I had my pick of trains to go back on, but the truth is, as nice as it is being away, eating in fancy pants places and taking photographs, its better to be home.
And I wanted to go home.
Which is whay I set my alarm for six.
But I was awake an hour earlier, so I get up, get dressed and pack, checking the room time to make sure I had forgotten nothing. For once.
Down to reception, where I am told check out is all automatic, so nothing to settle.
Can you call me a taxi, please?
They do.
I will wait outside I say.
IIt was just before six, still dark, but it was mild. Very mild. I mean mild enough to wear just a t shirt. It is mad, and must be global warming, how else can you explain temperatures of 21 degress at the end of October?
The taxi arrived. I load my bags. I chose to go by taxi as there had been drunks and those heading home from clubs shouting and screaming on the street outside my window, pretty much all night. And Prince of Wales Road, the road to the station, is where a lot of the clubs and bars are. As it was, at the bottom, a man dressed in a poor Father Christmas costume was being sick whilst consoling a friend laying next to him.
Inside the station, I look for a place to get a coffee from, and see just about everywhere is closed, or not yet open. The Co-Op is, I am told, and they have a coffee machine. I go inside, get a large americano and two Yorkie bars, then walk to the barrier to get on the train. I had 40 minutes before departure, but on the train I could settle down, read and relax while I drank the coffee.
A few other people got on, but the carriage was still ostly empty by the time the train pulled out, while outside it was still dark. In fact it was pretty much dark all the way to Ipswich, only light coming through the towns and villages the line passed through or near.At Ipswich, a party of five Ipswich fans joined me, and we had some banter about our two teams, all good humoured and nothing nasty. Good to think such things are mostly of the past. They were on their way to Charlton, where a win could put them top of the league. They asked me why Norwich fans are so angry, which was a very good question. One I couldn't really answer.
Out of Colchester the train was three quarters full, but it was daylight so I could stare at the lineside and countryside as we zoomed sout into London.
I get off at Stratford, I knew I had 50 minutes before a direct train to Dover, so I set about looking for coffee. I found a place just inside Westfield, and the server suggested I have what I though she said was a slice of pistachio and raspberry cake. But when it came it was one heck of a bun.
Sticky, but nice.I eat that and wash it down with coffee, twenty minutes had passed so I walked to the barriers and went down onto the platform.
Trains to Ramsgate via Canterbury and one to Margate via the Medway towns left before mine pulled, in, a 12 car set meaning there would be hundreds of empty seats.
Not much else to tall, just the usual trip under east London, across the Eassex marshed, under the Thames and into Kent, the train emptying at each stop.
Jools was waiting at Dover, I load my bags and we go home.
It was 11 o'clock.
Over half the day to look forward to, but I was pooped and happy to be home.
I unpack, put dirty washing in the machine, have a shower, make brews and lunch.
All is well with the world.
And then there is football.
I listen to Radio 5 and follow Norwich on Twitter, and we run out 3-1 winners over Stoke, while Ipswich scored two late goals to lead Charlton 4-2.
I went to make a brew.
And by the time the kettle had boiled, I heard the radio say that Charlton had equalised to make it 4-4, with half the goals coming after the 90th minute.
I thought of the Town fans I had seen earlier in the day and wondered what they thought of it.
All part of the game, I guess.
And two games in the evening: a dour 0-0 draw between Leeds and Everton, then Liverpoon losing in a match of brainless counterattacking football, 2-1.
Phew.
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