Tuesday 4th March 2025

After eight days its time to go home.

But because of the cancellation of the BA direct flights, I now have to use KLM, but it comes with a bonus of being able to choose a later flight.

My flight wasn't until ten past two, meaning I had to be at the airport at about midday, and a 90 minute drive to get there meant leaving at half ten.

All of which added up to a lay in, lazy packing and breakfast.

On the second bed in the room was my case, my clothes and the bag of swag I was presented with on Monday. I had to get it all in the case.

It took 15 minutes, and sitting on the lid, but I got the catches closed and so could get dressed and go down for breakfast.

Quiet at eight, with most guests having gone to work, so I seat well and slowly, have a second coffee before going upstairs to lollygag and finish packing my small bag for a half nine wander down to reception to pay the bill.

The bill was paid and the receipt e mailed, so done in 30 seconds. I go to the basement, load the car and am ready for the road.

I wake the horses and we lurch out.

Through the docks and condos, then onto the main road out and onto the motorway spur.

The reason for leaving early was the roadworks on the motorway, I had seen stationary traffic a week back, so took no chances.

In the end there were no delays, so I had to park up and while away half an hour listening to a podcast before driving the last 35km to the airport.

I reluctantly hand over the keys and walk back to the terminal, but could not check in for 20 minutes, so people watch.

Third in the queue to drop my bags off, through security in 5 minutes, and up into the departure hall with the duty free and lego shops to look round.

Instead I went to the bar for a stiffner, and watched a couple of planes taking off as I supped.

Half one and the flight was called, so we go to the gate where there is a crowd of folks trying to be first on. I was very last, and so inched along the airbridge at the back as the plane filled up.

The flight was full, as the previous one had been cancelled, so all squeezed in for the 55 minute flight to naughty Amsterdam.

And again, they managed to hand our drinks and snack and collect the trash in that time.

And as ever, the taxiing took almost as long as the flight, to a pan near the terminal, but one that required a ten minute bus trip to the entrance, and waiting for a second bus for those of us at the back of the plane.

For a change my gate for the flight to London was just ten minutes away, so I had an hour to try and find Jools a new camera.

Long story.

Anyway, I went to two "Electronic" shops, only to find neither really bother with cameras much any more, or at least what we would consider cameras, but did a line in Vlogging cameras to influencers.

Instead I went to the Heikkinen bar for a large beer and some crisps, which was a two minute dash to the gate.

I chatted to an old Irish guy who didn't talk, but whispered, making conversation difficult, but turned out he's been punched at some festival in Belfast, had his nose broken and had a dozen stitches.

I went to the gate to find the flight not full, but due to balancing the aircraft, we had to be squashed up in the middle of the plane.

Not sure about that. Was never an issue on Sun Air on those flights to Billund where if not full we could sit anywhere, and the plane was tiddly.

All on, and it was a 35 minute leap to London, and yet the crew dished out drinks and snacks, and collected the trash before we began final approach.

The sun was setting, and the light golden as we dropped down over Essex and the river, and with one final skim over the river, we landed, and thus ended my last ever business trip.

We had to wait to get off, then wait again for our bags, but all good as by the time I has squeezed onto a DLR train and got to Stratford, I only had a 20 minute wait for a direct train to Dover.

On the train I got a seat, suddenly weary after the 8 days away. People looked at phones, no one talked, and outside, Kent slipped by unseen shrouded in darkness.

Jools was waiting for me, to take me home, I loaded the case in the back and poured myself in the front seat.

Back home, after my first cuppa for nine days, I defrosted some ragu and cooked pasta, warmed up some bread Jools had go, and twenty minutes later, with a glass of three of XV, we ate together.

Monday 3rd March 2025

The forth and final day of the long goodbye.

All good things come to an end, it is said, and today was my final day in head office and a not-so secret party was being planned.

It was another fine, but chilly day here in west Jutland, up at six so be down for breakfast at half six, and climbing into the taxi at seven for the drive to the office.

The driver was from Somali, and was a man of few words and a thick accent.

. But traffic was light, and for a change he went the way I would have driven to the office, driving up along side the tram lines and early morning drivers calling in filling stations for their breakfast sandwiches.

He deposited me at the main entrance, so I walked up the sloping path to the rotating doors and into the building for the last time.

Up in the lift to the 2nd floor, and into the open plan office where I was second in.

In twenty minutes I had dealt with my weekend mails and updates to databases, meaning I had a quiet day of drinking coffee.

There was a meeting to attend, discussing things we have been talking about for the last four years, and we're no further forward.

Then down for lunch, lunch of salad and pulses, healthy stuff.

And then an hour before the party.

I was taken on a circular walk round the top floor, told not to look down as a group of colleagues gathered, then down to be greeted by a round of applause.

There were two cakes, this and a puff pastry thing in the shape of a person, covered with salt licorice candies. Which I leave.

Then a speech from Rune, all wonderfully kind words, and then my garbled thanks.

I cut the cake and we eat, make small talk. I am presented with presents of branded leisurewear, super strong beer and a bottle of Danish whisky.

And then, it was all over.

I had a taxi booked for three. I pack up, go for two rounds of hugs and handshakes, then hand in my pass and out into the bright afternoon.

The taxi was waiting, I put by bags in the boot, and he takes the cab out into rush hour traffic, but knowing how to avoid the worst of it.

I had two hours to kill before the last and final goodbye, so back in my room I had a shower and put on some nice clean clothes, then looked at the piles of stuff on the bed wondering how I was going to get them in my case.

I'd figure that out later.

Anni and Bo arrived just after half four, I went down to meet and greet, then get three small beers from the bar. We found a quiet corner in which to sit, and talked about the past and future.

Come half six, the restaurant was open, so we took a table overlooking the street and after baulking again at the wine card, we had beers instead. And no a la carte, just simple burgers and fries.

They left, they had to catch a bus home, so I see them off, and are gone. I have known Anni for 15 years, apart from Shaggy, my oldest friend over here.

All things must pass.

Back in my room, I listen to the football to make sure Ipswich lost in the Cup to Forest. It went all the way to penalties, meaning it was half eleven when I climbed into bed.

Sunday 2nd March 2025

Sunday morning.

I woke at half six, then dozed until nearly nine. Finally woken by Shaggy’s cat Shaggy jumping on the bed and making a nest. Outside, the birds were singing with great gusto I guess about spring and their upcoming tasks.

I had to be on the road by nine, so walked through the kitchen to find Anna awake and offering to make tea and toast.

Shaggy, when he appeared, had red eyes and looked quite rough.

But a pint of tea fixes all, and some toast too.

I load the car and program my next destination, another friend’s house on the way to Esbjerg. Just 45 minutes.

I press the start button, all the horses woke up and I drove out of the courtyard and onto the main road, heading through two villages to the motorway. Another fine and sunny day, perfect for a drive, even through the endless roadworks on the E45 heading south.

I turn off and follow the instructions to Frank’s house. No time was agreed, just that I might call. Turns out he was at church, but on the way home, so I wait, listening to the radio and checking the news.

Frank arrived and I followed his car into his yard, on three sides the buildings of the old water mill rose. Fran and his family live in the main building of the 16th century mill, though just about all equipment has been taken out, the housing where the grindstones were can still be seen in the kitchen.

Frank makes tea, and we talk shop, as we can do without any ears listening in.

But time was getting on. I have to in in Esberg by two, and with an hour and twenty five minutes to go, and it being half twelve, no time to lose.

We hug and I climb into the car, drive out of the yard and turn towards the motorway.

After half an hour I get through the last of the roadworks, and so can speed up to 130 km/h, and the miles, or kilometers were eaten up gritty quick.

I turn east, and ahead is 70 kilometers of motorway with a limit of 130. But I was getting snoozy, the endless miles after mile of two lane blacktop means I have to open a window to keep me awake.

Esbjerg harbour is full of turbine tower sections. All ours. It look impressive, but I’m not going there, instead I drive on to the centre of town, finding a place to park near the town square. I would be ten minutes late.

The main street is dying. Shop after shop is empty and up for rent, this has been the situation since the new mall opened near the station.

Inside the Dronning Louise were two friends already, Brian and Carsten. Jesper comes soon after, so I get drinks in, and we talk. Food here is also good, so I have a plate of nachos, which have an insane amount of cheese on, but are very good indeed. I was on Coke instead of beer, which I thought wise.

Later, Steffen arrives too. He was my young padowan back when we set up the site in Esbjerg, it is good to see him again. But already time is slipping by. I had to return to my car after two hours, and a couple of the others had to get going too. So, we all say goodbye, not knowing when or if we would meet again.

We walked in different directions, I to the car. No need to set the sat nav, I knew the way, so set off to the main road, then past the port and onto the motorway.

My aim was to get back before dark, and hope there were parking spaces. I was hopeful.

Traffic was light, so I made good progress, even through the roadworks. I turn off towards the centre and 15 km later I turn off to the hotel, and in garage there are many spaces. I take one and turn the engine off. I would not move it for two days now, my last strip in it will be to the airport on Tuesday.

In my room, I call Jools, then settle down for a booze free early night. Outside the tram trundle past, and the lights of the city shine bright now the fog has finally cleared.

Saturday 1st March 2025

Welcome to the weekend. Where it is still Denmark, and I am still here.

I switched to soda before the end of the meal, meaning I was well rested and not slightly hungover this morning.

The fog soon lifted and sun came out.

I lollygagged around, had a shower, then got dressed before going down to breakfast. I thought the hotel would be empty, but the restaurant was rammed, but room enough for one slightly hungry large bloke.

I had lost my recharge cable for the phone, so first task was to find a phone shop. I had tried yesterday evening, but turned off the main street mere yards before I would have reached one of them.

So out this morning, past the bus station and up the slight hill to the main street, turning down the hill, I walked on to find shops don't open until ten, some twenty minutes away.

Maybe the cathedral would be open.

It was, but for a service. I could maybe go back in an hour the guy suggested.

This was the first time I have found it open, so something of a disappointment.

But by then it was ten past, so shops open.

A very nice young man called Simon sold me a cable, and should I wander back or wait for the cathedral to open?

I walked back to the hotel, as there was no coffee or 2nd breakfast needed.

I lollygagged around until about half one or so, as I didn't need to be at my friend's until three when his beer and brewery supply shop closes.

I went to the basement, found the car and got in. I pressed the start button and nearly three hundred horses woke and roared.

I knew the way, so drove out of the garage, down to the main road, then along the waterfront until the tram line crosses, I take the same turning as it goes right by head office.

It was still a fine day, driving was a pleasure once I left the city limits and joined the motorway, as this far north there were no roadworks putting more lanes in.

I thought it was a half hour drive to the junction, but twas just 8km, so I prepared to turn off, and then I saw the sign indicating a filling station. It could mean a simple unmanned station, or an actual rest stop with shop and cafe.

Thankfully, it was the latter. So I parked, went in and found there did reheated burgers and other snacks, so I ordered a "snackburger" with beef and bacon. It cost 45DKK, which is fair enough.

I sat in the café to eat and drink the bottle of Coke, which whiled away half an hour, and with the twenty minute drive to his farm, I would be fashionably ten minutes early.

Indeed, as I turned into the yard, his last two customers were taking their purchases back to their cars. I, instead, came bearing gifts: tea bags and pork scratchings.

After hugs and greetings: "shall we have a beer?"

We shall.

We talked and supped. Not beer call amounts, just drinking on a warm spring afternoon kind of way.

Later, we retired to the kitchen, and Mark made a curry, and while it cooked, we snacked on olives and pork scratchings.

Wine with dinner. Of course.

And after packing away and cleaning up, Shags and myself went to the shop to watch the Brits on his huge TV, the sound was pumped through a PA.

We drank as we watched.

Its probably the first Brits Award show I have watched in over two, if no three decades.

Scantily clad ladies cavorted in frilly underwear on pretend beds, like Madonna hadn't done this 40 years ago.

And then the ceremony began. Jack Whitehall cracking flat jokes, and introducing guests and performers.

Not as bas as I feared, but some of the acts were amazingly middle of the road and soulful.

Sometime after midnight were gave up and headed to bed.

Friday 28th February 2025

Jutland is still shrouded in fog.

I got up half an hour earlier so I could have breakfast early and get a cab to the office before rush hour.

Fog and rush hour makes a bad combination.

The same driver as the day before picked me up, and we made smalltalk after he pointed out out I was quiet. Something to do with the ten hours sleep I had and the wool filling the void where my brain should be.

He got me to the office safe and sound, and arriving at ten past seven, and once in the open plan office, just Frank had arrived before me.

I set up and got on with the overdue tasks I had been handbagging for two days. That took all of twenty minutes.

We were having a reunion with our old MVOW colleagues in the evening, and Anette was going to come to the office to meet Rune and I as we made our way into the city at four. So, a long day, but I had caught up on work.

Doubly so when I found the correct revision of a spreadsheet with all the work saved until the version I shared in a meeting during the morning.

Rune got the call from Anette stating the driver went past two stops so she would be in a different place.

We went down to his VW electric car, which has something equal to 280BHP, and he showed me how quick it could go on the narrow road to the traffic lights.

OK impressed.

But I also know how many wiggly amps such acceleration uses.

We picked up Anette, then into town, dropping me off at the hotel so I could pick up the boxes of Creme Eggs for my former boss, then walk to the Sherlock Holmes.

Charlotte (our old boss) and Flemming were waiting at a table. I get some beers in and we catch up as it has been some three years since we last met.

Rune, Henrik, Frank turned up, then we walked down by the canal to a traditional Danish restaurant, where most meals had potatoes, cream sauce.

Hearty bland fayre.

The escolope was fine as were the fried potatoes. There was some kind of quiche, crispy pork belly, potatoes.

It was good.

We washed the meals down with Irish coffees, while we talked more.

We left at ten, while we were off to bed, the young and beautiful were in lines trying to get into a nightclub, and on the way we past more over made up and underdressed young ladies.

I got back to the hotel, went to bed.

Rock, and indeed, roll.

Thursday 27th February 2025

Day four away from home, and getting near the halfway point.

My workload lessens each day, so I thought I would delay my travel to the office until half seven.

Huge mistake.

Late the previous afternoon, thick for descended on the city, and if anything was thicker by morning. That, and a few minutes makes all the difference with city traffic, on Wednesday it took just over then minutes to get to the office, but on Wednesday, 45!

The fog brought out the crazies, and with jams at each set of lights, each junctions, we crawled through the city centre and out to the north of the city. Traffic, getting worse all the while.

We arrived at the office at ten past eight, and inside my colleagues were waiting for me.

We shook hands and walked through the curtains and out through the fir trees beyond, into technological Narnia. This is our test bays, a place little know to those at the desks on the floors above. After a safety brief, we got down to work.

All completed in time for lunch, of course, so we could go and eat in the canteen, before going back to the office on the top floor.

Outside the fog hid all the neighbouring buildings, I had a meeting at two, and had I left after that it would have been during the start of rush hour, if I left straight away, I could work from my room, have the meeting, then maybe go out.

SO I arranged for a taxi to come and collect me, packed up and walked down to the entrance, and by the time I had my coat on, the cab arrived, and he zipped my back to the city and outside the hotel.

I found my room had not bee cleaned again, despite me requesting it the day before. So, once I had ended the meeting, I went to reception, stated very firmly my room needed attention, and said I was going out.

I had no clear idea of where I was going, but walked up the brutalist steps beside the Bruins Centre to old town, and along to the Mikkeller Bar which was open. I had a small glass of stout, which was more of a struggle to drink than I thought, so robust its taste.

Just was a more traditional pub, Classiker or something. I had a pint of O’Hara’s and download the Great Gatsby on my phone, and read the first hundred pages as I made two pints disappear.

It was getting dark when I left, back to the hotel, where my room was tidy and the bed made.

Dinner was taken in the hotel: fish and chips, which wasn’t good, but meant I did not have to go out into the fog. After eating, back to my room, where I fell asleep listening to the radio.

Wednesday 26th February 2025

I am here, apparently, for work.

So I had better do some.

or get some in.

Having bagged a parking space, I'm not going to lose it by driving to work. Oh no, I'll get a taxi.

And I might have breakfast first.

Freshly showered and dressed, I went down asked reception to book said cab, then go to the breakfast room, where a plague of business-suited corporate locusts were clearing the buffet bar.

I had a buttered roll, a coffee, watched the suits, and went to reception at quarter past seven where the taxi was waiting.

Mohammed, lovely Danish name, took me via new and interesting ways through the city, out past the hospital to head office, where the sun had broken through.

We have a conference room on the ground floor, close by are at least four different coffee machines, so we shall not die of thirst.

Rune had arrived, and had printed agendas.

Ready to rock.

We pause for lunch, do an hour after eating, and we are done for the day. So I ask a different reception to book me a cab, and after packing up I go to stand in the sunshine to wait for the cab to arrive.

The driver, another Mohammed, took me back to the hotel pretty much the same way, depositing me at the rotating glass doors, so I went up to change, then ponder what to do.

Art!

I'll go and look at some modern art.

I go back down to street level, walk down to the main road, past the swimming baths, then up past the street food place, the bus station and the music school to ARoS. The art museum.

At the top is a perspex coloured walkway offering panoramic views across the city, the Rainbow Panorama, so I go there first.

And I have to admit my vertigo was kicking in, so I walk down the middle of the walkway, taking shots.

And best was that there were few folks around.

I made my way down to the ground floor, via the spiral staircase that offered sweeping ergonomic views at every step.

On the 6th there was "Boy", and Gilbert and George and a Warhol.

I reached the ground floor and realised I was thirsty, and there was an Irish pub within a five minute walk!

A pint of Budvar was soon joined by a pint of Guinness, and the world seemed a much better place.

Outside, dusk fell, and so thoughts turned to dinner, and the small pizza place down the street.

One woman manning the oven, and one waitress kept the small place going, and very fine it was too. The pizzas being Neapolitan style with thin bases and light toppings.

I had a coke to go with them.

I walked back to the hotel in thick, recently descended fog, and once inside I went to the VIP room for free wine and then to my room to listen to the football.

A fine evening, topped by Ipswich losing to ten man Man Utd.

From my 4th floor room, I could barely see the ground thanks to the fog.

Tuesday 25th February 2025

Urggh.

Tuesday.

Like most modern hotels, this one does not have windows you can open, so you reply on recirculated air, and have to work out the frankly abstract heating controls to try to make it bearable.

I slept poorly, but lay in to half six, and after freshening up, decided to skip breakfast and coffee.

Instead I went to find the car in the car park, and spent ten minutes wandering about until I found it.

I drove down the ramps, out onto the street, then along the waterfront before turning up the main road which leads, in ten minutes, to the office.

It was dawn, rain had stopped, and driving the Beamer was still fun to drive even in light to medium traffic.

I soon arrived at the office, found a place to park, and walked up the stylish but impractical steps to the entrance, where Rune was waiting.

Up the lift to the top floor, and into the open office where everyone has to hot desk, I get one next to Rune and opposite Frank, and settle down with only a glass of water to drink, for four hours of back to back meetings.

I have vegetables and salad for lunch, but still feel like crap, so after two final meetings, I take my leave and head back to the car, leaving before rush hour, going through the centre and out by the bus station to the hotel, where I found one empty parking space, so take that.

I go to the my room, put up the do not disturb sign, find something to listen to and snooze the afternoon through.

After having a shower, I felt 100% improved, if not better.

Outside, the sun goes down behind the thick cloud and dusk falls, lights shining bright at the Street Food place the other side of the tram tracks.

I am happy enough to look on. I will eat in the hotel again, my body suggesting it was mildly hungry.

Which is good

Monday 24th February 2025

And here we are, once again.

I was only here on Saturday, but at Dover Priory before dawn to catch a train to that London.

En route to the airport this time.

A miserable morning, with rain throwing it down, and it followed me to London, to Amsterdam and then to Denmark.

Where, currently, in Arhus, its pissing it down.

Anyway.

Up at five to get dressed, have coffee and check on trains one last time. Jools dropped me off at the station on her way to work, leaving me with twenty minutes to wait.

Just as well I noticed my train was leaving from platform 2 for a change, I'd have missed it.

So on the red eye, which filled up with commuters on its way through Kent, standing room only by the time it left Stratford.

And all too dark to look out the windows, where there was just my bleary-eyed reflection staring back.

My direct BA flight has been crapped, so I have to fly KLM via Amsterdam this time, and its always a faff.

I was dreading it.

Anyway, up the DLR and I found no queue at the KLM desk, dropped my case off, ten minutes in security, and time enough for breakfast in the little used restaurant near the US gates.

My mouth ordered a full English and a coffee. Didn't think I was hungry, but there's the smell of frying bacon to make anyone hungry.

I ate that up, paid and then went to find a quit place to sit and people watch.

An hour passed.

The flight was called, it was crazy busy as always, so I was last on, hanging back as I could sit with my bag. Unlike the father and son in front who had 5 carry on cases between them. I thought there were restrictions, but apparently not.

In the 40 minute flight, the staff managed to dish out drinks and a snack and collect the trash.

Now for the fun of naughty Amsterdam.

The airport, anyway.

The fear of endless lines waiting to clear immigration were ill-founded, and I was through in two minutes.

So, two hours to kill and a great selection of bars to choose from.

Just had to choose one.

I found one, that sold ice cold beer, and accidentally jump to the front of the queue, but the barman was happy to serve me.

I found a table and watch the full spectrum of human life pass in front of me. All sorts.

And there was me.

Ten more minutes brought me to the gate, where I found a seat and waited.

An hour to kill.

There was the usual rush to get on first, I lagged behind, so got on the second bus to the standing, but having chose a set three rows from the back, I didn't have anyone next to me.

Just like I planned.

The guy in the seat in front did, however, snore like an Olympic champion, and on occasion, drowned out the sound of the engines. Which did not impress the Chinese later sitting beside him.

Another forty minute flight brought us to the wind and rainswept tundra of Billund, there was at least an airbridge to the terminal, right into the baggage reclaim.

I got my case, only to find that there is a new building for the car rentals, a 400m dash through the rain down to the car parks.

And then, soaked, wait in line twenty minutes. Quietly steaming.

I was given a BWM 320M, sport rocket something. Which was fun once we got to the motorway.

But it did pour with rain, all the way to Arhus.

And then there was the roadworks. Which seem to have gone backwards since my last visit in November.

Which is some going.

It was no fun, so I was glad to turn off to Arhus Sud and the harbour, trundling along until I got to the hotel, turning up and into the car park, where just as I feared, there were no spaces. Plenty for elecric cars, but none for ICE cars.

So I had to park in the massive shopping centre, but first find the entrance. And once I found a parking space, I had to find my way out and find the hotel.

No direction signs, but I did seems some doors, headed over, and could see the top of the block where the hotels is, so walked through the driving rain, over the road and into the air conditioned luxury.

A colleague with whom I have worked with for years, but never met, was staying in the hotel, so once she arrived we met up, hugged and went for dinner.

A small choice, but what there was was good. I had burger and a small beer, and made most of it vanish as we talked.

Come nine, I felt like crap, so made my excuses and went up to bed, too tired for a shower.

Sunday 23rd February 2025

The second day of the weekend, and my last day at home for more than a week. As tomorrow I put on my travelling shoes and head to sunny Denmark. We woke at half six when the hot water heater switched on, so Jools went down to feed the cats, and in time, make coffee.

Nothing much planned, other than maybe eating a meal, relaxing and packing.

We had coffee, listened to the radio, and the plan had been fruit for breakfast, but I saw some roles and thought of bacon butties.

But we had no bacon!

But there were sausages in the freezer.

Sausage sarnies, then!

9 minutes in the microwave to defrost, some gently frying in the pan, and some twenty minutes later we had breakfast.

After a lazy start, I mentioned Kingsdownher had seen some Lesser Celandines in Guston, so I thought we could go there, then see Jen.

We went via the Castle so we could see the new houses that replaced the 25m range and assault course. They looked OK, I guess, and out of the way on top of the down.

Along to Guston, we parked at the church, and in the churchyard were a few drops of golden yellow where a first flowers were in bloom.

I took a few shots, then with the early morning sun having faded, we beat retreat to the car and then over the fields to Pineham to Jen's.

We stay an hour, chatting, before we go back home so I could peel some spuds for dinner, then settle down for an afternoon of footy.

Newcastle and Forest shared seven goals with the Toon winning 4-2, before Liverpool beat Citeh 2-0 to about clinch the title.

Between, I cook dinner: steak and ale pie, roast potatoes and steamed veg.

The usual.

And the potatoes were the best ever.

Reality then took over as I have to pack and make sure I have all my work things.

One last time..........

Saturday 22nd February 2025

Should I really be contemplating a day trip to Norfolk just 24 hours after being laid so low?

I felt I recovered well on Friday, though not hungry still. After getting up and having a coffee, all was set.

I had to catch the ten to six train out of Dover, as I had a cheap ticket. I was going to have something from the buffet, or Pumpkin as its now called.

But was closed.

So, I sat on the station waiting for the train to pull in.

I got on and sat on my favourite side, the carriage was quiet, which suits me. Sadly, at Folkestone West, ten ladies got on and sat in the seats in front clearly on a weekend taking in the bright lights of London. They spent all the journey to Stafford talking about foundation cream and this season's colours.

But who am I to judge?

At Stratford I went up to the concourse then along to the DLY, hopping on a train that was about to depart for the stop to Stratford (Regional).

Where I found I had a fifty (50) minute wait, so went to the Middle Eastern kiosk on the underpass for lamb samosas and a coke.

The overnight rain had cleared, so I took my breakfast to the platform and found a dry seat under the footbridge and spent a fine half hour people and train watching.

As you do.

The train arrived at 08:37, it was three quarters full, but still plenty of seats.

So I took a seat on the right hand so I could watch the suburban stations flash by and then out into the Essex badlands.

No stopping at Chelmsford, onwards to the delights of Colchester and into Suffolk.

Train toilets can now be flushed in stations, so that joy is taken away. Not that I would have, anyway.

Unusually, both Ipswich and Norwich were playing at home on the same day at the same time, as were Colchester. Loads of fans got off at Ipswich, so the quarter full train continued to Stowmarket and Diss.

Then to Norwich.

Norwich is my old stamping ground, a city I know so well, apart from the usual suspects hard to enter churches, there wasn't a lot I could think off to fill in the two hours before opening time.

I looked at Simon's album of roof bosses from the Cathedral cloister, and decided I would photograph those. I didn't have a long enough lens, but what the hell.

Into Norfolk just before arriving in Diss, then through the rolling countryside peppered with sentinel-like church towers. Some close, some distant.

And then we were on the edge of the city, round to the single track bridge and into Thorpe Station, as was.

Back home.

If anywhere feels like home now.

I walked up the once vibrant Prince of Wales road, still with nightclubs and lap dancing bars, but most looking down at heel. The lights and paint not so bright, and the pub after which the road is named, is no more and is a gaming hub. Closed.

Through the Erpingham Gate into the precinct and to the modern entrance. I paid a tenner, and went straight to the cloisters, having declined a map.

I spent nearly an hour photographing and then talking to an American gentleman before a figure came to my shoulder.

It my my friend, Cam, and I was here to meet him and others for beers, chats and laughs.

We shook hands and chatted. I took a few more shots before we went back into the Nave and did one grand loop of the Sanctuary before leaving and getting his cycle.

A five minute walk down Wensum Street, over the bridge and onto Magdalen Street to the Kings Head, five past opening time.

I had a fine cherry-chocolate porter to start, and we met John and Stephen in the rear bar.

Hands shook, update on Simon's journey, and we got down to chit chat.

The pub was lively, with lots of scarf bedecked fans coming in for a pint or two before heading off to the home of football.

At some point, Simon arrived having had to get a rail replacement bus from Diss to Norwich, he was soon catching up.

We left for the Ribs at three, our number already down to the hardcore three, and Cameron left at four to meet with his family.

We took our beers to the decking just over the river surface, and leisured in the warm later afternoon breeze and low sun, it was warm.

Nearly.

I ended up having an argument with the two racist Brexit supports beside me, thankfully they left, leaving Simon and myself to empty our glasses and at five, walk down towards the station.

Norwich had won 4-2 against Stoke, while Ipswich lost 4-1 to local rivals Spurs.

At the Compleat Angler, it was full with happy fans. Simon got a round in, and I sat outside, though with dusk falling it was no longer warm.

We walk across the rad to the station, climbed on board the train waiting, quite full. But we found seats round a table, so spread out and chatted some more.

The train moved out, and into the blackness of the moonless night, illuminated only by the villages and stations on the line.

Simon got out at Norwich, the train continued south. I got a sandwich from the refreshment trolley.

The train entered Essex, speeding towards the capital.

At Stratford, back on the DLR to the International station where I had a twenty minute wait for my train, which when it arrived was busy, but with seats free.

So, just an hour down to Dover, where Jools was waiting for me to take me home for one last brew before going to bed.