Thursday 18th April 2024

Time to go home.

With appointments on Friday, I was to bail on the team event just after lunch to catch the evening flight.

I wake at six, have a shower and get dressed, then go down to breakfast with Henrik, before going to pack my things.

Breakfast has bacon rolls, made with crispy Danish bacon, which is always cooked to perfection. There is also lashings of strong, black coffee.

I pay the bill and go outside to see Parandaman and Rajesh waiting beside the van, pointing to the frost on the windscreen, the first time they have ever seen such a thing.

Henrik had to scrape his screen with a tool, they told me. I touched the frost and found it already melting, so I said there'd be no need for scraping. I switched on the ignition, and the wipers cleared all frost in three swipes.

They were amazed.

As we drove to the factory, the inside of the screen began to mist up, something else they had never screen. I turned a dial to make the fans of the heating go faster and in a few seconds the screen was clear again.

They were amazed.

We arrived at the dock gates, were allowed in, and so drove to the meeting room, being the first to arrive.

The 19th (Friday) is the 14th anniversary of my joining the company, though it has changed identities twice since then, it is soon to be Henrik's and Rune's 10th anniversary too, so a cake had been supplied to celebrate, and that greeted us when we walked into the classroom.

After lunch, I had to say goodbye to my boss and colleagues, so a final round of handshakes and hugs, and I walked out of the building to the car Instead of setting the sat nav I set up a podcast, thinking I knew my way .

I was pretty sure.

So, out of the port and along to the O3 ring, then north on the E20 and cruising along at 100 to 110 kmh. The sun shone, the birds sang, and along the side of the road, butterbur was just turning to seed.

It took about an hour and 50 minutes to get to Billund, and another ten minutes to walk to the terminal from the drop off point, only to discover the Britsh Airways desk unmanned, and I was told that I could not drop the case off until two hours before departure time.

The first time this rule has been enforced here.

I checked in my case, and then went through the priority gate at security, and up to the lounge where I paid 200DKK for access so I could join the last of the meetings of the workshop, but for the most part heard those in the room playing some kind battleship/twister game.

I had to go to the bathroom, then walk down to immigration, have my passport stamped and then to the gate, all took over half an hour, by which time we could walk to the plane, so no time to rejoin the meeting.

Instead the engines powered up and we were off to the piano keys, but not stopping, instead the engines set to maximum as we roared off down the runway and into the air, soon lost in clouds.

I settled back and snoozed, though did accept a small bottle of wine and some pistachio ice cream, which was all rather pleasant.

The plane dropped from cruising altitude, Essex could be seen through the clouds, or parts of it. Shoeburyness, Southend, Westcliff and along the north bank of the Thames, getting lower minute by minute.

One final swoop over the river and touchdown, but the fact we were 15 minutes early was tempered by the fact we were put on the most remote pan, then had to wait for the steps to be brought, then groundcrew to unload the cabin bags too big to be carried in the cabin and finally the bus to take us to the terminal.

Instead of dropping us near immigration, the bus let us off at gate 7, and for me it was a long hobble trying to stay ahead of a larger jet that had followed us down. I made it, my case was waiting, so a dash to the DLR where I had just missed a train to Stratford, so have seven minutes.

When the next train came, it was rammed, because West Ham were at home, and fans were travelling for the club's old heartland to the new ground in the old Olympic Stadium.

Each station, more drunken singing fans squeezed on, until at each of the three Stratford stations, half of them got off.

I walked to the International station and found I had just over 15 minutes before the Dover train arrived, so I called Jools, arranged for her to be at Priory when I got there at quarter past eight.

The train was busy, but not full. I found a place for my case and a seat, so I could relax and check on how West Ham were doing on my journey down to the coast.

We arrived at Dover, I had to climb the stairs from platform 2 to the exit, Jools was waiting outside, she had a bag of KFC freshly collected from the old Market Square, so she took us home.

We tucked into the bag, both of us suddenly shattered with our weeks. The good news is that Jools is back full time on Monday, with orders higher than before Christmas.

I listen to West Ham and Liverpool lose, so go to bed near to eleven. Pooped.