Wednesday 4th October 2023

Last day of my trip.

And with an evening flight, I had a day to kill, so went to visit my colleague, Henrik, on his farm on Langeland.

Denmark is pretty much a "fly-over" country, and in Denmark, Langeland is right in the middle of nowhere.

It was a two hour drive, due east from Esbjerg.

I woke at half six, packed and went down for breakfast. A little earlier than previously, and it was full of folks in suits from both the wind and oil industries, all talking of meetings and deal.

I was on my own, so ate in silence, drinking an extra coffee to make sure I stayed awake on what was going to be a long day of travel.

A fine and sunny day, driving was pleasant, the motorway had light traffic, past Kolding, Middlefart (stop sniggering), Odense, and onto Langeland.

Fields were harvested, ploughed and smelt of recently added manure.

Langeland is a rural, and flat place, with small towns nestling among the farmland.

I called to Henrik to let him know I was close. Follow the road round the bottom of the hill, he said, mine is the next farm on the right.

The highest point in Denmark is Møllehøj at 171m high, so a hill on Langeland would be relative. Turns out the hill is 17m high, and sure enough, Henrik's place was right beside it.

I stayed for two hours, fixed my IT issues, had a brew or two and had lunch before it was time to leave.

At quarter to one I had to leave, so bid farewell to Henrik, set the sat nav for the airport, and headed back across the island and Jutland.

Not much to report, just a pleasant day with lots of time in which to travel the 81 miles.

I dropped the car off, then went to check in, a little early, but the lady on the Easy Jet counter said she'd check my case in. And then with Fast track, through security in double quick time, and up to the departure hall.

Last month I watched a video on the new Lego Concorde model, and the Lgo shop there had three, so I bought one for Jools, as next month its her 60th birthday.

Did I have access to the executive lounge?

I went up to check.

No, was the answer, but for 200Kr, I could go in. I pay and enter. The reason was free food and drink, lots of seats and tables too.

I have a beer and some Doritos and surf the web for a couple of hours, which was all very pleasant. While outside the heavy dark clouds burst and torrential rain fell for half an hour, turning day into night.

Time came to board, so a short walk to the new immigration gates, passport stamped and to the gate where there were 11 of us this time, probably just enough to make it profitable.

At least the walk to the plane was under clearing skies and no rain, I sank into my usual seat of 8A and waited for departure.

We were on time, and soon the plane roared down the runway and into the air, over Legoland and into clouds.

Goodbye Denmark.

I slept through most of the flight, missing dinner, ice cream and woke just in time to decline whisky or a Baileys, while we began to drop down from cruising height, passing over the London Array and Thanet Windfarms.

With winds from the west, we would do the usual approach along the river, and from a few thousand feet I could see the clogged roads around Dartford and along the M25 caused by the train strike.

We had to do a low level circuit to delay our arrival, giving views along the river and a chance to video final approach after having taken shots.

We landed at twenty past six, taxi to the gate and get off to the terminal, through immigration, collect my bag and walk to the DLR, where I would go to Woolwich where, if traffic allowed, Jools would be picking me up, again thanks to the train strike.

But that is where the adventure really began.

I got on the DLR and was in downtown Woolwich in 5 minutes, only Jools was stuck in traffic 4 miles away in Eltham. I would wait.

Now, St Margaret's is quiet.

Very quiet.

Woolwich is not.

It is loud, vibrant, with the smalls and sounds of dozens if not hundreds of exotic eateries, and nose to tail traffic, with hundreds of people trying to get home on packed buses.

When they came.

I remembered the car park Jools was supposed to use, so I walked there, round over a hundred folks waiting for buses that, when they came, would be full to bursting.

I waited and waited, but no sign of Jools. Then came a call. I can't find the car park, but I found a space near to the station.

We arranged to meet at the station entrance, which we did, then walked to the car to find it had not yet received a ticket, so we loaded the car and tried to get to the end of the street.

Not helped by an old guy in a car refusing to give way to the traffic going the other way, causing a standoff, and an old woman refusing to move out of the way on the pavement which we could have used to get by.

That's not how we fuckin drive round her, you fucker, the little old lady cried.

With the traffic behind us now solid to the end of the road, and a chorus of horns filling the air, the guy moved out of the way just enough for the car in front and us to get by.

Plumstead High Road was an experience, stuck behind two buses, we inched up the road, where at the top was a roundabout and our way home.

After twenty minutes, going past takeaways, pubs, bars and nail bars, we made it, turned right and the road turned more residential and we were able to make good time.

Three more turns and we were on the A2, 5 miles from Dartford, and making good time, though it had taken an hour to get this far.

Under the M25 and into Kent, stopping at a service station to grab some supper and a drink, then into the night, past the Medway towns, Canterbury and to Dover and home.

Scully was sitting at the top of the drive, meowing where the hell time do you call this, even though Jen had gone round to feed the cats.

Inside for a brew and a rest.

Phew.

I was beyond tired.

But home.