Thursday 22nd September 2022

Well, not quite the red eye, but did mean being up at five, on the road half an hour later in order to drive the 70 minutes to Billund.

Dark when I left, dawn when I dropped the car off.

I had to stop off to take some allergy medicine, so got the lorry parked shots.

Very chilly in Denmark this week, a frost on Thursday morning, though temperatures rose quickly when the sun came up.

I made it in time, so was ready to come home.

Massive queues of locals for the Danish low cost airlines, and the Ryanair one building too, it was a relief to be just one of two people on our flight checking in a bag.

Then whiz through security, and up to the gastrobar for breakfast of coffee and a danish.

Well, I was in Denmark!

I have been on flights so full you're lucky to have a seat, and I've been on flights that passengers were so few I had a row or two for myself.

But this flight, on Dornier 328, which only holds 28 people, had just four passengers.

Meaning in theory there was seven breakfasts each.

If we were hungry.

So few of us in fact, instead of a shuttle bus, they took us to the pan in the marshal's van.

So we took off into the golden autumnal morning, the trees and fields looking splendid in the warm light, climbing up and up as we headed out to see over Ribe.

With breakfast came these delightful cruet set, much better than those tiny paper sachets. I nearly nicked these as I liked the design so much.

Breakfast done, and after a snooze, the plane began to drop from cruising altitude, and the familiar landmarks of the Kent coast came into view.

We flew over Grain and over the A2, meaning we were heading inland, and that meant a final approach from the west, with grandstand views of central London on the low pass along the river.

I got my camera ready.

And the turning points were the same; at Crystal Palace and then at Battersea before the turn onto the Thames.

Past Westminster, Whitehall, Charing Cross and into The City, familiar places passed quickly beneath the plane.

I took shots. Lots of shots.

We cruise over The City, then into the East End, passing near Spitalfields, getting lower and lower each second.

Finally skipping over the roof of the Excel and down onto the runway.

Home.

The aircraft parked, and we were allowed off, allowed to walk all the way from gate 10 to immigration, always a hike.

Are you the first or last passengers off your flight? A lady at immigration asked.

We are the whole flight, four of us!

Even they were amazed.

Through the scanners, my case was waiting, and out into the concourse, out to the DLR station, where I had 7 minutes to wait for the next train to Stratford. Which meant I would miss the ten to ten train, so would have to doss around for 55 minutes or so, once I got there.

Arriving after the morning rush hour was over meant having seats, and getting a seat at a bakery in the shopping centre with my coffee.

I wasn't really hungry but a ginger muffin piqued my interest, and was OK.

Still half an hour to kill, so I went down onto the platforms in the hope of seeing a Eurostar hammer through.

One did.

I just managed to get the camera out and record it after seeing the lights in the tunnel a mile away.

A few minutes later, my train arrived with *lots" of empty seats, just as the automated announcement had promised.

Last leg of the journey.

At Dover, I get a taxi and tell him to take me home. Drop me off at the end of the street.

He took us via Townwall Street and Jubilee Way, then along the Deal Road to Chez Jelltex.

I made a brew. Had a late fruit-filled breakfast and another brew.

Phew.

Now, as there had been several Queen of Spains seen in Walmer, I thought it a reasonable bet to go to find some around the village, so despite having already down 6,000 steps, a few more wouldn't hurt.

Not much to report, several Clouded Yellows among the lucerne, but none settled. But then I had shots of them this year, down past Fleet House and up past the farm to the new bench to have a sit and think about life, the universe and everything.

I pick myself up and walk along Green Lane beside the wood, before dropping down to Collingwood and to home.

I was shattered.

I unpack and put the case away, then pop the dinner in the oven; something Jools had prepared, chicen thighs and bacon medalions in a tomato sauce. With garlic.

Was good.

I open a bottle of red as it felt so good to be home.

Marc is back on the wireless, but sleep overtook me at eight, and we went to bed.

Phew.