Monday saw the 5th anniversary to us moving into the house. I know this as I like to read my old blog entries. I mention this just for added information really.
Those 5 years have been a rollercoaster ride at times, but now that I have been with Vestas for nearly 4 years now, things seem to be a little smoother now,although I do have worries about the job, but then who wouldn't? I have said that I won't talk too much about work, and I mean that, this is because of commercial considerations, and so not wanting to jeopardise anything I might do in the course of my duties.
In fact I should have been in Sweden tonight: we should have been doing an audit tomorrow, but that got cancelled last week and so all my travel plans had to be pulled and will have to be re-arranged. So, I have an unexpected week at home, and my calendar at work is quite empty due to the cancellation. Probably just as well it was cancelled, as I came down with the flu yesterday. I had a cough that was more like the bark of a dog, but I did manage to work the day, but then came evening, my breathing got worse and then sleep would not come so I tossed and turned all night. This morning I ached all over and was shattered. I e mailed work to say I would not be working. I then took to my bed and snoozed with Scully asleep at my foot.
I got up just after lunch, freezing cold despite the heating being on. However, my breathing was better although I was still barking like a dog at regular intervals.
Outside, the wind reached another peak and by dusk the rain was hammering down again, lightning flashed around and thunder shook the house. There has been a constant stream of storms since new year, and there seems to be no end in sight as another is coming tomorrow and yet another on Friday. The Somerset Levels have been under water pretty much since Christmas, and now the flood water is rising yet higher. The Thames in Berkshire is flooding with the water expected to rise 10cm over the weekend too.
Now, I might be a tad cynical, but Tory Boys announcement that money would be no object in helping the rescue effort in the thames valley, but funny how Tory voting areas get this much help whilst rural Somerset has been suffering with little help for weeks. Could it be the number of marginal constituencies there? Hmmmmm. Funnily enough, various Tory ministers have been blaming each other for the mess. Like that helps.
Things are not that bad here yet, although there has been some flooding, and then a 5m hole opened up in the M2 yesterday. The ground is saturated here, but nothing like it is in the west. Last week the sea wall at Dawlish was breached, along with the railway that runs along the top of it. With the storms we have since then, repairs haven't really begun as yet.
A UKIP councillor says the bad weather is because of gay weddings and is God's punishment for that.
Wednesday, 12 February 2014
Monday, 10 February 2014
Monday 10th January 2014
Saturday.
Mulder was up and about at just after five telling us that he really, really should be fed by now. I sighed and tried to ignore him, but being a weekend and there being so much to do, so much beer to drink, so many pictures to take, I got up before six to feed them cats and make a cup of coffee.
Hmmm, nothing quite like the feeling on a Saturday when the day is young enough still be exciting. I thought about it, maybe the cliffs, the bay and then back to the festival for a final slurp! All we had to do is to wait for Mr Sleepy-head, aka Steffen, to wake up.
He did surface, contacting me via Facebook, as is the modern way, to enquire about the availability of coffee and/or breakfast. Once we were all fed, we decided to head out, first of all to the cliffs at the Dover Patrol, so we could stand in awe at the edge of the cliffs looking down. And maybe look over to La Belle France.
We parked up, and an absolute gale was blowing. I knew I should have put another layer on! So, we walk over to the cliff edge. Steffen asked if I could take a shot of him standing on the cliff edge, and who am I to refuse? But, it was cold. I mean really, really cold. So, better head down to the bay where it would be warmer, maybe not warmer but out of the wind.
The waves were, whilst not crashing onto the beach, was still pretty impressive. However, most of the stones from the beach had been dumped onto the prom and the car park, leaving a sandy beach behind. Ian Flemming’s old house had also suffered some storm damage, with one window looking like it had been knocked in by the sea.
Wowzer.
Steffen decided he wanted to buy a warm hat. Quite why they don’t sell such things in Denmark is anyone’s guess. So began a trek to look for said hat: two tackle and seas fishing shops on Snargate Street, and then into Folkestone as I was sure the market would have something that would do. I was by now hungry, and after stopping of a Googies last week, I realised I really liked the sound of their Tex-Mex burger, and it took very little persuasion of Jools and Steffen that we should go in.
I can report the burger was OK, the fries to, but their own Boston Beans were wonderful, and worth going for just those. Anyway, all fed up we head to the main street to find the stalls being packed away! We walked up the street hoping to find an outdoor type shop or an Army surplus shop, but with no luck. So, we decided to head back to Dover where Jools could drop us back at the beer festival where Steffen and I could soak up some of the dregs.
And dregs is what we found; maybe less than 20 barrels were still going, so we had a couple of pints before we decided to end the afternoon back in The Rack of Ale for a friendly beer or two. And friendly it was, and packed. There was just enough room for us to get in and order a pint. It was all very nice. We had plenty to talk about as Liverpool had just stuffed Arsenal 5-1, and we leading 4-0 after 20 minutes.
Jools came to collect us at four, and so then I had the chance to see how City were doing against Citeh. I expected the worse, but in fact Norwich were still drawing 0-0, and that is how it stayed. In fact Norwich coming close in the last minute to snatching all the points. So, and unexpected point for us, but another game without scoring too.
That night we headed back out, this time to The Carpenter’s Arms at Coldred, as I thought Steffen might like a taste of an authentic county pub. We were remembered from last week, and the beer was just as good. The wind was howling outside, making it feel very cold indeed, even with two coal fires going. We drank up then headed down the hill into Lydden to the Bell for dinner.
They managed to squeeze us in, and the food was more like the nouvelle stuff, small portions, but tasty enough, and we were not that hungry. So as the rain hammered down outside we tucked into roast lamb, which was very good indeed.
Much to our delight, there was a badger munching away in the front garden, and I took a shot of it with my new camera, which turned out pretty darn well. Seems like it takes four shots in night mode and then combines the sharpest parts to produce one very good image.
Clever camera….
Sunday.
All things must come to an end, and so Steffen had to head home. And we had already decided that we would take him back to Stansted by car. Which was just as well really as the strong winds that were still blowing meant that there seemed to be no trains running.
Once he was packed, we climbed in the car and headed up the M20 to Dartford, along the M25 and then up the M11 to the airport. Not knowing whether the bridge would be open, we left plenty of time, and so got there with two and a half hours to spare, but better late than never I suppose.
We dropped him off and headed back south, managing to get back across the Thames before ten, thus missing all the shopping traffic to Lakeside and Bluewater. We stop off at the services at Maidstone for a coffee ,and as it turned out, brunch. That’s better.
On the way back home we call in at Alkham to see the flooding caused by the once-again flowing Drellingore winterbourne. It is already much worse than last year, with houses beside the flowing water already flooded. The flow is so large it has overflowed the culvert beside the main road, and already several holes have opened up meaning traffic lights have had to be installed. And down towards the cricket ground water bubbles up through the tarmac. It felt a little wrong snapping such sights, so we went back to the car and then home.
Once back home to tidy up some, and then decided to slob out a bit. I mean we had some stuff to do, but after much running around drinking beer, it seemed right just to relax, drink the occasional coffee. I even did a session on the cross-trainer, which was just right. Although I am sure I sweating out pure porter from every pore.
The day faded to dark, and so the weekend faded to dark too….
Mulder was up and about at just after five telling us that he really, really should be fed by now. I sighed and tried to ignore him, but being a weekend and there being so much to do, so much beer to drink, so many pictures to take, I got up before six to feed them cats and make a cup of coffee.
Hmmm, nothing quite like the feeling on a Saturday when the day is young enough still be exciting. I thought about it, maybe the cliffs, the bay and then back to the festival for a final slurp! All we had to do is to wait for Mr Sleepy-head, aka Steffen, to wake up.
He did surface, contacting me via Facebook, as is the modern way, to enquire about the availability of coffee and/or breakfast. Once we were all fed, we decided to head out, first of all to the cliffs at the Dover Patrol, so we could stand in awe at the edge of the cliffs looking down. And maybe look over to La Belle France.
We parked up, and an absolute gale was blowing. I knew I should have put another layer on! So, we walk over to the cliff edge. Steffen asked if I could take a shot of him standing on the cliff edge, and who am I to refuse? But, it was cold. I mean really, really cold. So, better head down to the bay where it would be warmer, maybe not warmer but out of the wind.
The waves were, whilst not crashing onto the beach, was still pretty impressive. However, most of the stones from the beach had been dumped onto the prom and the car park, leaving a sandy beach behind. Ian Flemming’s old house had also suffered some storm damage, with one window looking like it had been knocked in by the sea.
Wowzer.
Steffen decided he wanted to buy a warm hat. Quite why they don’t sell such things in Denmark is anyone’s guess. So began a trek to look for said hat: two tackle and seas fishing shops on Snargate Street, and then into Folkestone as I was sure the market would have something that would do. I was by now hungry, and after stopping of a Googies last week, I realised I really liked the sound of their Tex-Mex burger, and it took very little persuasion of Jools and Steffen that we should go in.
I can report the burger was OK, the fries to, but their own Boston Beans were wonderful, and worth going for just those. Anyway, all fed up we head to the main street to find the stalls being packed away! We walked up the street hoping to find an outdoor type shop or an Army surplus shop, but with no luck. So, we decided to head back to Dover where Jools could drop us back at the beer festival where Steffen and I could soak up some of the dregs.
And dregs is what we found; maybe less than 20 barrels were still going, so we had a couple of pints before we decided to end the afternoon back in The Rack of Ale for a friendly beer or two. And friendly it was, and packed. There was just enough room for us to get in and order a pint. It was all very nice. We had plenty to talk about as Liverpool had just stuffed Arsenal 5-1, and we leading 4-0 after 20 minutes.
Jools came to collect us at four, and so then I had the chance to see how City were doing against Citeh. I expected the worse, but in fact Norwich were still drawing 0-0, and that is how it stayed. In fact Norwich coming close in the last minute to snatching all the points. So, and unexpected point for us, but another game without scoring too.
That night we headed back out, this time to The Carpenter’s Arms at Coldred, as I thought Steffen might like a taste of an authentic county pub. We were remembered from last week, and the beer was just as good. The wind was howling outside, making it feel very cold indeed, even with two coal fires going. We drank up then headed down the hill into Lydden to the Bell for dinner.
They managed to squeeze us in, and the food was more like the nouvelle stuff, small portions, but tasty enough, and we were not that hungry. So as the rain hammered down outside we tucked into roast lamb, which was very good indeed.
Much to our delight, there was a badger munching away in the front garden, and I took a shot of it with my new camera, which turned out pretty darn well. Seems like it takes four shots in night mode and then combines the sharpest parts to produce one very good image.
Clever camera….
Sunday.
All things must come to an end, and so Steffen had to head home. And we had already decided that we would take him back to Stansted by car. Which was just as well really as the strong winds that were still blowing meant that there seemed to be no trains running.
Once he was packed, we climbed in the car and headed up the M20 to Dartford, along the M25 and then up the M11 to the airport. Not knowing whether the bridge would be open, we left plenty of time, and so got there with two and a half hours to spare, but better late than never I suppose.
We dropped him off and headed back south, managing to get back across the Thames before ten, thus missing all the shopping traffic to Lakeside and Bluewater. We stop off at the services at Maidstone for a coffee ,and as it turned out, brunch. That’s better.
On the way back home we call in at Alkham to see the flooding caused by the once-again flowing Drellingore winterbourne. It is already much worse than last year, with houses beside the flowing water already flooded. The flow is so large it has overflowed the culvert beside the main road, and already several holes have opened up meaning traffic lights have had to be installed. And down towards the cricket ground water bubbles up through the tarmac. It felt a little wrong snapping such sights, so we went back to the car and then home.
Once back home to tidy up some, and then decided to slob out a bit. I mean we had some stuff to do, but after much running around drinking beer, it seemed right just to relax, drink the occasional coffee. I even did a session on the cross-trainer, which was just right. Although I am sure I sweating out pure porter from every pore.
The day faded to dark, and so the weekend faded to dark too….
Sunday, 9 February 2014
Sunday 9th February 2014
Friday.
It always seems that the next morning after a late night return from Denmark comes round much too quickly. Did that last sentence make sense? I think so. Anyway, It was to be a very busy day, what with one thing and another, so, after laying in bed, I get up to take Jools to work so I can have the car and be able to transport myself at Steffen to the beer festival once work finishes. And being de-facto my own boss, I get to say when work finishes. So. Half eight finish?
I power the laptop up and get down to work: meetings and more meetings, and time inbetween to fire off some mails. One hour, two hours passed. I tried not to clock watch.
anyway, midday came and we decided to pack up. Hope in the car, drive to the factory to collect Jools and then to Ladywell so we could have a pre-festival pint at the Rack of Ale before getting down to some serious drinking. We try a sampler rack, as you do, then head to the chippy two doors up for some greasy food with which to line our stomachs so we can really enjoy the festival.
Steffen had never had fish and chips, so what better excuse for a cod and chips twice? None whatsoever. Not the best I have had, but good enough. So we head to the front of the town hall to queue. for once I was not at the front, but we would still get a table, which was what we wanted.
And so for three hours we went to refill our glasses, headed back to our seats and drink.
Sadly, my friends who normally attend, could not make the afternoon session, so there was just us to talk amongst ourselves. At three we decided to head back to The Rack for a more friendly drink. And much to our surprise it was heaving, we only just got in the door, but ordered another pint of 1914, which was wonderful, and waited for five when Jools was going to collect us and take us home.
That night i get the sharp knives out and make chorizo hash for us, and it was very good indeed, although none of us washed it down with any alcohol, which meant we had had enough. And so the day drew to an end.....
It always seems that the next morning after a late night return from Denmark comes round much too quickly. Did that last sentence make sense? I think so. Anyway, It was to be a very busy day, what with one thing and another, so, after laying in bed, I get up to take Jools to work so I can have the car and be able to transport myself at Steffen to the beer festival once work finishes. And being de-facto my own boss, I get to say when work finishes. So. Half eight finish?
I power the laptop up and get down to work: meetings and more meetings, and time inbetween to fire off some mails. One hour, two hours passed. I tried not to clock watch.
anyway, midday came and we decided to pack up. Hope in the car, drive to the factory to collect Jools and then to Ladywell so we could have a pre-festival pint at the Rack of Ale before getting down to some serious drinking. We try a sampler rack, as you do, then head to the chippy two doors up for some greasy food with which to line our stomachs so we can really enjoy the festival.
Steffen had never had fish and chips, so what better excuse for a cod and chips twice? None whatsoever. Not the best I have had, but good enough. So we head to the front of the town hall to queue. for once I was not at the front, but we would still get a table, which was what we wanted.
And so for three hours we went to refill our glasses, headed back to our seats and drink.
Sadly, my friends who normally attend, could not make the afternoon session, so there was just us to talk amongst ourselves. At three we decided to head back to The Rack for a more friendly drink. And much to our surprise it was heaving, we only just got in the door, but ordered another pint of 1914, which was wonderful, and waited for five when Jools was going to collect us and take us home.
That night i get the sharp knives out and make chorizo hash for us, and it was very good indeed, although none of us washed it down with any alcohol, which meant we had had enough. And so the day drew to an end.....
Friday, 7 February 2014
Friday 7th February 2014
Wednesday.
There are times when days at head office blend into one, especially as now they are just a series of meetings linked by gaps long enough to grab a coffee and fire of a shit-o-gram to whoever has messed up.
Each day begins with the groan that signifies that despite it being dark outside, it is time to get up. Then, down into the restaurant, grab some breakfast, whilst trying to be healthy. Heading out to the car park hoping that the windows do not need scraping, and then edging out onto the O2 ring road race track, hoping to be able to get into the left hand lane by the time I need to turn towards the office, counting one, then two to get the right junction before finally reaching head office.
and once in find I am usually second or third in, and so the day begins.
And some nine hours past and it is time to leave again. Only on this day I forfeited the chance to go bowling. Yes, bowling. After trying for 15 years to play in the RAF I realise that my arms and hands do not do as I tell them, only to make the ball head towards the gutter. But I do agree to meet them afterwards for a meal at Flammen. The reason for all these activities? Well, trying to make us all feel part of a team and to belatedly celebrate Christmas.
I'm not arguing.
So, I get a taxi into the centre of town, always an experience as we ignore all laws/driving signs to make it into the harbour area in one piece. Always nice. The going in, seeing the guys across the restaurant, and making my way over. A cold beer is waiting. And it is meat time! 15 different sorts to choose from, and a token amount of salad. But it is good, as is the banter.
I grab a lift with Jesper back to the hotel, having to try to attract the attention of the sleeping guard to get in through the sliding gate; all this to protect our cars from the locals.....
Thursday.
And in a break from the routine, I sleep through my alarm. Always an invigorating start to the day, really gets the blood pumping as you realise you have a meeting in 20 minutes!
Pack.
Clean teeth.
Stumble down the stairs as an elevator has broken.
Check out.
Load the car.
Decide to skip breakfast as there should be something laid on at work.
Drive into work in the driving rain.
Get into work with a couple of minutes to spare, power the computer up and away we go.
The meeting means I miss breakfast and there is one tiny slice of cake left at the end of the meeting.
Munch.
Munch.
I have to make a presentation to the Quality guys from our Japanese partner. We begin talking, and I end up taking over, drawing flow diagrams, going over system requirements and generally sounding like I know what I am talking about.
That takes me to another meeting, which lasts another two hours, and right to when it is time to leave for the airport. Apart from a couple of minutes panic when I can't find my phone as I had put it somewhere safe. I pack up the computer, head to the car and drive out of Arhus heading south towards Billund. Heavy traffic is not something I usually see, but Thursday the who drive down the E45 was a nightmare, heavy traffic in heavy rain. It was a relief to turn of at J57 and drive on some quiet roads towards the airport.
Now, it was three in the afternoon and I had not eaten in 18 hours: I was hungry. So, I leave the car in the lot, hand the keys over, check in, and get through security and go straight towards the cafe and order a burger. It is a gourmet burger, quite what makes it gourmet is beyond me, but is tastes like heaven to me, as does the half litre of Carls Special wash it down with.
The flight is called, and I head towards the gate, surprised to find it fully booked which is unusual on a Thursday. Once aboard, we find that the plane's computer is playing up. And to fix it they switch the whole plane off and back on again. It works! I sleep the whole flight, and wake up as the slip through the heavy clouds above Essex. We see nothing of the ground until we are a few hundred feet above the ground at Greenwich. Although there is little time to admire the view as the plane is buffeted by winds and it jerks about like a bronco.
It is a relief to be on the ground, and soon enough we are all in the queue for immigration. Shouldn't be being in the EU mean an end to all this?
A colleague of mine is coming over for the beer festival, so I have arranged to meet him at St Pancras. All I have to do is get there. Easier said than done when there is a tube strike on! But, I head the usual way to Stratford and catch a St Pancras bound high speed service, and am there by eight fifteen. I head to the pub where a pint of Guinness is waiting for me!
We have another pint before we walk back to the Southeastern platforms for the nine twelve train to Dover. We get a seat a ta table and both fall asleep. London, south essex and Kent al slip by outside the window as we head home.
It had been a long day.....
There are times when days at head office blend into one, especially as now they are just a series of meetings linked by gaps long enough to grab a coffee and fire of a shit-o-gram to whoever has messed up.
Each day begins with the groan that signifies that despite it being dark outside, it is time to get up. Then, down into the restaurant, grab some breakfast, whilst trying to be healthy. Heading out to the car park hoping that the windows do not need scraping, and then edging out onto the O2 ring road race track, hoping to be able to get into the left hand lane by the time I need to turn towards the office, counting one, then two to get the right junction before finally reaching head office.
and once in find I am usually second or third in, and so the day begins.
And some nine hours past and it is time to leave again. Only on this day I forfeited the chance to go bowling. Yes, bowling. After trying for 15 years to play in the RAF I realise that my arms and hands do not do as I tell them, only to make the ball head towards the gutter. But I do agree to meet them afterwards for a meal at Flammen. The reason for all these activities? Well, trying to make us all feel part of a team and to belatedly celebrate Christmas.
I'm not arguing.
So, I get a taxi into the centre of town, always an experience as we ignore all laws/driving signs to make it into the harbour area in one piece. Always nice. The going in, seeing the guys across the restaurant, and making my way over. A cold beer is waiting. And it is meat time! 15 different sorts to choose from, and a token amount of salad. But it is good, as is the banter.
I grab a lift with Jesper back to the hotel, having to try to attract the attention of the sleeping guard to get in through the sliding gate; all this to protect our cars from the locals.....
Thursday.
And in a break from the routine, I sleep through my alarm. Always an invigorating start to the day, really gets the blood pumping as you realise you have a meeting in 20 minutes!
Pack.
Clean teeth.
Stumble down the stairs as an elevator has broken.
Check out.
Load the car.
Decide to skip breakfast as there should be something laid on at work.
Drive into work in the driving rain.
Get into work with a couple of minutes to spare, power the computer up and away we go.
The meeting means I miss breakfast and there is one tiny slice of cake left at the end of the meeting.
Munch.
Munch.
I have to make a presentation to the Quality guys from our Japanese partner. We begin talking, and I end up taking over, drawing flow diagrams, going over system requirements and generally sounding like I know what I am talking about.
That takes me to another meeting, which lasts another two hours, and right to when it is time to leave for the airport. Apart from a couple of minutes panic when I can't find my phone as I had put it somewhere safe. I pack up the computer, head to the car and drive out of Arhus heading south towards Billund. Heavy traffic is not something I usually see, but Thursday the who drive down the E45 was a nightmare, heavy traffic in heavy rain. It was a relief to turn of at J57 and drive on some quiet roads towards the airport.
Now, it was three in the afternoon and I had not eaten in 18 hours: I was hungry. So, I leave the car in the lot, hand the keys over, check in, and get through security and go straight towards the cafe and order a burger. It is a gourmet burger, quite what makes it gourmet is beyond me, but is tastes like heaven to me, as does the half litre of Carls Special wash it down with.
The flight is called, and I head towards the gate, surprised to find it fully booked which is unusual on a Thursday. Once aboard, we find that the plane's computer is playing up. And to fix it they switch the whole plane off and back on again. It works! I sleep the whole flight, and wake up as the slip through the heavy clouds above Essex. We see nothing of the ground until we are a few hundred feet above the ground at Greenwich. Although there is little time to admire the view as the plane is buffeted by winds and it jerks about like a bronco.
It is a relief to be on the ground, and soon enough we are all in the queue for immigration. Shouldn't be being in the EU mean an end to all this?
A colleague of mine is coming over for the beer festival, so I have arranged to meet him at St Pancras. All I have to do is get there. Easier said than done when there is a tube strike on! But, I head the usual way to Stratford and catch a St Pancras bound high speed service, and am there by eight fifteen. I head to the pub where a pint of Guinness is waiting for me!
We have another pint before we walk back to the Southeastern platforms for the nine twelve train to Dover. We get a seat a ta table and both fall asleep. London, south essex and Kent al slip by outside the window as we head home.
It had been a long day.....
Thursday, 6 February 2014
Thursday 6th February 2014
Sunday.
As on Saturday, the forecast was for early rain, and so we had a lazy morning, either beading or watching MOTD. I’ll leave you to guess which one of us did what…..
We went to see Jools’ brother to talk about the situation with Nan. All is well, other than she is rattling through her savings at an alarming rate. Quite what we are going to do, unless we find that money tree my Dad always used to say I was ripping all the cash from. Anyway, it was good to see Mike and Jane, and catch up.
Next up was the old folks place in Whitfield, but Dad was then heading out to measure our front door. Not that this is something he does on a regular basis, his neighbour is seeing about fitting us a new front door. So, we pass the key over and then make for Deal for some more photo and beer related malarkey.
I hope all this is of interest to you.
Deal is a fine genteel seaside town now, however, in early Victorian times was less salubrious, and Bradshaw has some quite harsh words to say about it. But since then, what with thousands of Marines stationed there, The Duke of Wellington living and dying there too, it smartened itself up and got airs and graces and looks proper loverly now. It is stretched along a flat area of coast between chalk cliffs. Stretched along the coast, and shingle beach are grand houses, two castles and lots and lots of retired people.
In the town centre, the old fishermen’s cottages have been turned into fine houses and holiday homes, although no matter how delightful they look, there is no parking possible in the narrow streets between. We make for the pier, only for a large dark cloud to sweep over, and we have just enough time to shelter in its entrance. The rain passed quickly, leaving behind, briefly, glorious light that yours truly ran around snapping the scene of glistening pavements and scurrying people.
We walked down to the castle, I snapped the scene, then we returned to the pier, crossed over to head down to Middle Street to walk down to The Ship Inn, snapping as we did so. The Ship Inn is the latest pub in our voting, so we had to go in and me drink beer to see how good it was. And look at the décor and other stuff not quite as important. It was good. We ate peanuts, drained our glasses and we then headed home.
Another top afternoon out, then!
Jools was all pooped out in the afternoon and so went to bed. I, in sympathy, took to the sofa and listened to the radio, as football does not listen to itself.
It’s funny, despite having exactly having the same amount of hours and minutes as the other days, Sundays seem to slip through our fingers, and it was time for dinner, a shower, pack my case, write a blog and head to bead, pooped as a pooped thing.
Monday.
Urgh, Monday morning.
Double urgh, commute to Denmark Monday morning.
Its still dark, but looking out the back window I can see Venus hovering just above the horizon where the sun will rise about an hour and half in the future. We have a coffee, and its time to go. Already.
Off to the station, dodging the sleepy lorry drivers heading to the Eastern Docks, and then along Townwall Street and up Old Folkestone Road, drop me off, me grab the cases, into the station, buy me ticket and then go onto the platform to wait in the cold and watch the dirty pigeons (who love a bit of it).
I am trying to make it sound matter-of-fact, but I do enjoy the trip over, honest, even if it just to go to work.
By the time we leave Ashford, the train is full of business types, quaffing coffee, reading the FT, and the woman beside me, sleeping. At least it is nearly light now and so I can watch the countryside go by, if I could just keep my eyes open…….
At Stratford, I gather myself and cases to get onto the DLR and star bleary-eyed at the other commuters heading to work. At least the airport is quiet, for a Monday, and I check in, get through security and am sitting down ordering breakfast in ten minutes after arriving. Man, I am so hungry, I order the full breakfast, which unlike Saturday’s is half a plateful and twice as expensive. But it’s on the company’s paycheck, so I eat it all up. Even a slice of toast and marmalade.
Time enough to read a chapter of the Mark Kermode book and then head to the gate, have ticket checked. Again. Down the steps, over the perry track to the aircraft, strap myself in and ready to go. I can tell I have travelled this route a lot as the stewardess does not bother to check my ticket, she just assumes I know I’m on the right flight.
We set off, taking off heading east for a change, so no fine views of the centre of London as we turn. In fact soon we are lost in low cloud over east London, but the clouds clear as we head over Essex and heading towards Harwich far below. I can see there is no evidence of flooding in Essex, that being a problem mainly for the west I suppose, but the views are stunning along the Orwell to Felixstowe and Ipswich the other side of the Orwell bridge, looking tiny from this high up. We head out to sea crossing the coast just south of Orford, I can see the ness below, narrowing, widening and narrowing as it reaches Orford, above that there’s Sizewell, and all up the coast to Lowestoft.
But we are heading for the Dutch coast now, and soon the Northwind windfarm appears, its our latest, and has been delayed by the string of storms. But I can make out those that have been installed and just make out the transition pieces breaking clear of the water.
Denmark, however, is Narnia. Narnia gripped by winter. Is that snow on the beach down there? Yes it is. And all the lakes are frozen, and as we fly over the yard at Esbjerg I see the installation vessel is encased in frozen sea. What am I doing here?
Once I’m in my lovely new C4, I see the thermometer reads plus 7, so not that cold. But the wind from last week has blown the snow into drifts, drifts resembling frozen white waves at the side of the road. I drive down to Esbjerg, I have to call in to collect my PPE ready for the start of the supplier audits. I stop for a couple of hours, redo my presentation for tomorrow, and then in glorious winter sunshine, I bid farewell and climb back into the car for the drive up to Arhus.
As I hit the E45, the sun sets and the sky turns all colours from red to pink to purple. Frozen mists rise from lakes and rivers. I make it to the hotel just as the light finally fades, and can relax. Relax if there are no more mails to respond to……
I arrived at the hotel to be told I had been upgraded. There are times when I have dreamt of being upgraded. On those Emirates flights to Indonesia for several! So, I get the room key. Sorry, car, and go in. The upgrade seems to amount to a third single bed, a chair with some upholstery and no wheels, some extra cushions, an iron and ironing board and a safe. I checked and the safe was already empty.
I mess around for an hour before going down to dinner. I intend to be healthy. And not have the burger. But, I order the soup followed by the burger, but I do forgo the beer for a large diet coke. And all very nice it was too. But I had get back to work, so went back to my room, opened Outlook only to find a total of zero new mails. I had nothing to do after all.
So, how about the Citeh v Chelski game on TV. I checked, checked again, and again. And there was nothing there, just the usual odd looking Danish reality TV shows about some family of what look like freaks. But not of course. So I settle down to follow the game via Twitter and the BBC test of the game. Not.the.same.
Tuesday.
Up at six. Or that’s when the alarm went off. I flicked it onto snooze. Oh, and again.
I get up, get ready, gather what notes I have and head down to breakfast. I have the usual, branflakes in strawberry yoghurt followed by cheese roll. Washed down with a couple of coffees. And then into the early rush hour traffic to head to the office. As I approach the door, I am greeted by an oriental gentleman, one our new colleagues; can I let him in? I guess so. He seems to know my boss so that seems good enough. We swap business cards, which is the modern way.
As soon as I set up my computer and grab another coffee, I am told to go up to the conference room to set up. A bug meeting today, losts of powerpoint, lots of spreadsheets, and lots of discussions,. It does at least make the day pass quick, and the sense of blind panic I had quietly dissipates as it appears we are bettered prepared than they are. Oh well.
The day passes and I have not made any mistakes, which is good. From our side we are happy, and it seems my stomach is telling me I might just be having a beer or two in the evening.
Back at the hotel I am told something amazing: Scandic have a new menu! Now, this may not be earth-shattering, but it is. There is something reassuring being at one of their hotels, in that it is always the same. But not tonight: cured salmon (I didn’t know it was ill) and quail’s eggs and smoked mayo ( that would be a bugger to light)
Indeed, I have the beer. Just a small one. And a wine with my lamb accompanied by something called a potato tower. A what? I hear you ask. Well, I had it and I don’t know how to describe it. Possibly potato puree browned with a blow torch if I had to describe it.
As on Saturday, the forecast was for early rain, and so we had a lazy morning, either beading or watching MOTD. I’ll leave you to guess which one of us did what…..
We went to see Jools’ brother to talk about the situation with Nan. All is well, other than she is rattling through her savings at an alarming rate. Quite what we are going to do, unless we find that money tree my Dad always used to say I was ripping all the cash from. Anyway, it was good to see Mike and Jane, and catch up.
Next up was the old folks place in Whitfield, but Dad was then heading out to measure our front door. Not that this is something he does on a regular basis, his neighbour is seeing about fitting us a new front door. So, we pass the key over and then make for Deal for some more photo and beer related malarkey.
I hope all this is of interest to you.
Deal is a fine genteel seaside town now, however, in early Victorian times was less salubrious, and Bradshaw has some quite harsh words to say about it. But since then, what with thousands of Marines stationed there, The Duke of Wellington living and dying there too, it smartened itself up and got airs and graces and looks proper loverly now. It is stretched along a flat area of coast between chalk cliffs. Stretched along the coast, and shingle beach are grand houses, two castles and lots and lots of retired people.
In the town centre, the old fishermen’s cottages have been turned into fine houses and holiday homes, although no matter how delightful they look, there is no parking possible in the narrow streets between. We make for the pier, only for a large dark cloud to sweep over, and we have just enough time to shelter in its entrance. The rain passed quickly, leaving behind, briefly, glorious light that yours truly ran around snapping the scene of glistening pavements and scurrying people.
We walked down to the castle, I snapped the scene, then we returned to the pier, crossed over to head down to Middle Street to walk down to The Ship Inn, snapping as we did so. The Ship Inn is the latest pub in our voting, so we had to go in and me drink beer to see how good it was. And look at the décor and other stuff not quite as important. It was good. We ate peanuts, drained our glasses and we then headed home.
Another top afternoon out, then!
Jools was all pooped out in the afternoon and so went to bed. I, in sympathy, took to the sofa and listened to the radio, as football does not listen to itself.
It’s funny, despite having exactly having the same amount of hours and minutes as the other days, Sundays seem to slip through our fingers, and it was time for dinner, a shower, pack my case, write a blog and head to bead, pooped as a pooped thing.
Monday.
Urgh, Monday morning.
Double urgh, commute to Denmark Monday morning.
Its still dark, but looking out the back window I can see Venus hovering just above the horizon where the sun will rise about an hour and half in the future. We have a coffee, and its time to go. Already.
Off to the station, dodging the sleepy lorry drivers heading to the Eastern Docks, and then along Townwall Street and up Old Folkestone Road, drop me off, me grab the cases, into the station, buy me ticket and then go onto the platform to wait in the cold and watch the dirty pigeons (who love a bit of it).
I am trying to make it sound matter-of-fact, but I do enjoy the trip over, honest, even if it just to go to work.
By the time we leave Ashford, the train is full of business types, quaffing coffee, reading the FT, and the woman beside me, sleeping. At least it is nearly light now and so I can watch the countryside go by, if I could just keep my eyes open…….
At Stratford, I gather myself and cases to get onto the DLR and star bleary-eyed at the other commuters heading to work. At least the airport is quiet, for a Monday, and I check in, get through security and am sitting down ordering breakfast in ten minutes after arriving. Man, I am so hungry, I order the full breakfast, which unlike Saturday’s is half a plateful and twice as expensive. But it’s on the company’s paycheck, so I eat it all up. Even a slice of toast and marmalade.
Time enough to read a chapter of the Mark Kermode book and then head to the gate, have ticket checked. Again. Down the steps, over the perry track to the aircraft, strap myself in and ready to go. I can tell I have travelled this route a lot as the stewardess does not bother to check my ticket, she just assumes I know I’m on the right flight.
We set off, taking off heading east for a change, so no fine views of the centre of London as we turn. In fact soon we are lost in low cloud over east London, but the clouds clear as we head over Essex and heading towards Harwich far below. I can see there is no evidence of flooding in Essex, that being a problem mainly for the west I suppose, but the views are stunning along the Orwell to Felixstowe and Ipswich the other side of the Orwell bridge, looking tiny from this high up. We head out to sea crossing the coast just south of Orford, I can see the ness below, narrowing, widening and narrowing as it reaches Orford, above that there’s Sizewell, and all up the coast to Lowestoft.
But we are heading for the Dutch coast now, and soon the Northwind windfarm appears, its our latest, and has been delayed by the string of storms. But I can make out those that have been installed and just make out the transition pieces breaking clear of the water.
Denmark, however, is Narnia. Narnia gripped by winter. Is that snow on the beach down there? Yes it is. And all the lakes are frozen, and as we fly over the yard at Esbjerg I see the installation vessel is encased in frozen sea. What am I doing here?
Once I’m in my lovely new C4, I see the thermometer reads plus 7, so not that cold. But the wind from last week has blown the snow into drifts, drifts resembling frozen white waves at the side of the road. I drive down to Esbjerg, I have to call in to collect my PPE ready for the start of the supplier audits. I stop for a couple of hours, redo my presentation for tomorrow, and then in glorious winter sunshine, I bid farewell and climb back into the car for the drive up to Arhus.
As I hit the E45, the sun sets and the sky turns all colours from red to pink to purple. Frozen mists rise from lakes and rivers. I make it to the hotel just as the light finally fades, and can relax. Relax if there are no more mails to respond to……
I arrived at the hotel to be told I had been upgraded. There are times when I have dreamt of being upgraded. On those Emirates flights to Indonesia for several! So, I get the room key. Sorry, car, and go in. The upgrade seems to amount to a third single bed, a chair with some upholstery and no wheels, some extra cushions, an iron and ironing board and a safe. I checked and the safe was already empty.
I mess around for an hour before going down to dinner. I intend to be healthy. And not have the burger. But, I order the soup followed by the burger, but I do forgo the beer for a large diet coke. And all very nice it was too. But I had get back to work, so went back to my room, opened Outlook only to find a total of zero new mails. I had nothing to do after all.
So, how about the Citeh v Chelski game on TV. I checked, checked again, and again. And there was nothing there, just the usual odd looking Danish reality TV shows about some family of what look like freaks. But not of course. So I settle down to follow the game via Twitter and the BBC test of the game. Not.the.same.
Tuesday.
Up at six. Or that’s when the alarm went off. I flicked it onto snooze. Oh, and again.
I get up, get ready, gather what notes I have and head down to breakfast. I have the usual, branflakes in strawberry yoghurt followed by cheese roll. Washed down with a couple of coffees. And then into the early rush hour traffic to head to the office. As I approach the door, I am greeted by an oriental gentleman, one our new colleagues; can I let him in? I guess so. He seems to know my boss so that seems good enough. We swap business cards, which is the modern way.
As soon as I set up my computer and grab another coffee, I am told to go up to the conference room to set up. A bug meeting today, losts of powerpoint, lots of spreadsheets, and lots of discussions,. It does at least make the day pass quick, and the sense of blind panic I had quietly dissipates as it appears we are bettered prepared than they are. Oh well.
The day passes and I have not made any mistakes, which is good. From our side we are happy, and it seems my stomach is telling me I might just be having a beer or two in the evening.
Back at the hotel I am told something amazing: Scandic have a new menu! Now, this may not be earth-shattering, but it is. There is something reassuring being at one of their hotels, in that it is always the same. But not tonight: cured salmon (I didn’t know it was ill) and quail’s eggs and smoked mayo ( that would be a bugger to light)
Indeed, I have the beer. Just a small one. And a wine with my lamb accompanied by something called a potato tower. A what? I hear you ask. Well, I had it and I don’t know how to describe it. Possibly potato puree browned with a blow torch if I had to describe it.
Sunday, 2 February 2014
Sunday 2nd February 2014
At last the weekend.
Up at the crack of sparrahs, which is always the way at weekends, and Jools was feeling much better and indicated she would go to the beading class after all. The BBC said we would get some rain first thing so best doss around the house for a couple of hours before heading out at nine to go down into town so Jools could go to the library. And I could wander along the seafront taking photos.
Perfect.
We have breakfast, or rather Jools does and i have a coffee, and at the appointed hour, the rain did stop and so we headed out into the ever-brightening morning. Jools heads into town and I walk to the old hoverport, and i was rewarded with the sun breaking through, and looking back towards the Eastern Dock sand the light was just sensational. I snapped away.
Jools returned and as a very large black cloud drifted over, we went back to the car just as a hail storm broke, and we drove over to Folkestone. By this time I was hungry, and I asked if Jools was.She was. So, might as well find a place to have breakfast in then!
We head down to the harbour area and find a place to park in Tontine Street. Over the road was a cafe, and I had a fry up on my mind. I order the large breakfast, and it was just about the right size for me. Jools, still feeling a bit fragile has a bacon roll. All very nice indeed.
Jools takes the car and heads to her class, whilst I walk down to the harbour to take some shots.
As ever I knew i would visit the old Harbour Station, ripe as it is for great shots of dilapidation. I had the place to myself, and so I was happy enough with the shots I got. Although I know that the station may soon be gone if NR get there way, and then all the decay will be swept away to be replaced by a marina for yachts. If only it could be kept....
Back round the harbour and up the Old High Street, taking shots I went. Up and up to the High Street, trying to ignore the tat for sale from the market stalls. As usual all the dregs of society are on show, with various amounts of rotten teeth showing to the world. I am being hard on Folkestone, the the stalls do attract a certain demographic it has to be said.
I find the alehouse and I have ten minutes to kill before opening time. I watch people on the HIgh Street and even go into WH Smiths to check out magazines to read. Nothing piques my interest, so I head back to the alehouse to find it already had two customers inside drinking.
I settle down and order a beer, make do with reading The Mirror which is full of celebrity tat, like most red tops these days. It does maintain a left leaning at least. I have a second and then realise I have 5 minutes until it is time for me to meet Jools outside the Saga offices.
She turns up on time and we drive home, me trying to ignore the stunning light as waves crash against the Admiralty Pier as we pass by on our way into Dover.
Once home I settle down to listen to the radio, and as usual City lose away from home. This time they batter Cardiff and should have won by a country mile. We take the lead in the 5th minute and are in complete control, but fail to get a second. At the beginning of the second, City switch off for 90 seconds and manage to concede twice. After that they take charge and throw everything at Cardiff. We hit the woodwork several times, Bellers clears off the line and Marshall makes two world class saves. But nothing doing and we slump to another defeat. Next week it Citeh at he Carra, and that will only end one way.
Up at the crack of sparrahs, which is always the way at weekends, and Jools was feeling much better and indicated she would go to the beading class after all. The BBC said we would get some rain first thing so best doss around the house for a couple of hours before heading out at nine to go down into town so Jools could go to the library. And I could wander along the seafront taking photos.
Perfect.
We have breakfast, or rather Jools does and i have a coffee, and at the appointed hour, the rain did stop and so we headed out into the ever-brightening morning. Jools heads into town and I walk to the old hoverport, and i was rewarded with the sun breaking through, and looking back towards the Eastern Dock sand the light was just sensational. I snapped away.
Jools returned and as a very large black cloud drifted over, we went back to the car just as a hail storm broke, and we drove over to Folkestone. By this time I was hungry, and I asked if Jools was.She was. So, might as well find a place to have breakfast in then!
We head down to the harbour area and find a place to park in Tontine Street. Over the road was a cafe, and I had a fry up on my mind. I order the large breakfast, and it was just about the right size for me. Jools, still feeling a bit fragile has a bacon roll. All very nice indeed.
Jools takes the car and heads to her class, whilst I walk down to the harbour to take some shots.
As ever I knew i would visit the old Harbour Station, ripe as it is for great shots of dilapidation. I had the place to myself, and so I was happy enough with the shots I got. Although I know that the station may soon be gone if NR get there way, and then all the decay will be swept away to be replaced by a marina for yachts. If only it could be kept....
Back round the harbour and up the Old High Street, taking shots I went. Up and up to the High Street, trying to ignore the tat for sale from the market stalls. As usual all the dregs of society are on show, with various amounts of rotten teeth showing to the world. I am being hard on Folkestone, the the stalls do attract a certain demographic it has to be said.
I find the alehouse and I have ten minutes to kill before opening time. I watch people on the HIgh Street and even go into WH Smiths to check out magazines to read. Nothing piques my interest, so I head back to the alehouse to find it already had two customers inside drinking.
I settle down and order a beer, make do with reading The Mirror which is full of celebrity tat, like most red tops these days. It does maintain a left leaning at least. I have a second and then realise I have 5 minutes until it is time for me to meet Jools outside the Saga offices.
She turns up on time and we drive home, me trying to ignore the stunning light as waves crash against the Admiralty Pier as we pass by on our way into Dover.
Once home I settle down to listen to the radio, and as usual City lose away from home. This time they batter Cardiff and should have won by a country mile. We take the lead in the 5th minute and are in complete control, but fail to get a second. At the beginning of the second, City switch off for 90 seconds and manage to concede twice. After that they take charge and throw everything at Cardiff. We hit the woodwork several times, Bellers clears off the line and Marshall makes two world class saves. But nothing doing and we slump to another defeat. Next week it Citeh at he Carra, and that will only end one way.
Saturday, 1 February 2014
Saturday 1st February 2014
Friday.
Oh my gosh, what a day! Well, let me put it this way, i did not have to do a foot patrol in Helmund, or set to sail in a lifeboat to rescue sailors in peril, or rush into a burning house to save a damsel. No, I had to calculate the month KPIs. That and do the other stuff that is expected, attend two meetings and apparently I have a stake in another project now and so have scheduled more meetings regarding that.
And then send mails to the customer, do my expenses. Oh lordy by three i was shattered, but I had done it all. I decided to head home as Jools had to take the day off with a dodgy tummy. I knew it was bad when it only took three attempts to persuade her to take the day off. And that is a record, a record in that this is only the second day I think she has taken off in the seven years I have known her. She took to bed all day, and alternatively shivered and sweated.
I did stop on the way home to snap something with the new camera, and very good it seems with the 50mm. But the light was fading, so I headed hoe to see how Jools was. She was OK, but still not fit for eating, so after talking a while, she went back to bed, and I spent the evening quietly listening to the radio and keeping an eye on the newsfeed from the BBC as it was the last few hours of the transfer window.
The transfer window if you didn't know is when clubs and buy and sell players, it lasts all of January, but most business is done on the last day, and most of that done in the last few crazy hours. Odd then that it is all so ineffectual, the players bought are overpriced, and mostly do not work out well for the buying clubs. But such is the desperation that most fans expect more and more money to be spent so their club can climb the one or two extra places to qualify for Europe or escape relegation. The farce ended at eleven, although it didn't as clubs have an extra two hours to clear paperwork on ongoing deals. I bailed at quarter past, with Norwich failing to sign anyone that day. I don't think it would have made any difference, they spent £30m in the summer and are doing no better than last year. Spending another 5 or ten would not guarantee anything.
Oh my gosh, what a day! Well, let me put it this way, i did not have to do a foot patrol in Helmund, or set to sail in a lifeboat to rescue sailors in peril, or rush into a burning house to save a damsel. No, I had to calculate the month KPIs. That and do the other stuff that is expected, attend two meetings and apparently I have a stake in another project now and so have scheduled more meetings regarding that.
And then send mails to the customer, do my expenses. Oh lordy by three i was shattered, but I had done it all. I decided to head home as Jools had to take the day off with a dodgy tummy. I knew it was bad when it only took three attempts to persuade her to take the day off. And that is a record, a record in that this is only the second day I think she has taken off in the seven years I have known her. She took to bed all day, and alternatively shivered and sweated.
I did stop on the way home to snap something with the new camera, and very good it seems with the 50mm. But the light was fading, so I headed hoe to see how Jools was. She was OK, but still not fit for eating, so after talking a while, she went back to bed, and I spent the evening quietly listening to the radio and keeping an eye on the newsfeed from the BBC as it was the last few hours of the transfer window.
The transfer window if you didn't know is when clubs and buy and sell players, it lasts all of January, but most business is done on the last day, and most of that done in the last few crazy hours. Odd then that it is all so ineffectual, the players bought are overpriced, and mostly do not work out well for the buying clubs. But such is the desperation that most fans expect more and more money to be spent so their club can climb the one or two extra places to qualify for Europe or escape relegation. The farce ended at eleven, although it didn't as clubs have an extra two hours to clear paperwork on ongoing deals. I bailed at quarter past, with Norwich failing to sign anyone that day. I don't think it would have made any difference, they spent £30m in the summer and are doing no better than last year. Spending another 5 or ten would not guarantee anything.
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