Thursday 11th September 2014

It is an odd feeling walking up on the first morning of 17 straight days without work, telling myself not to worry about work, as you don't have to for like over two weeks. So, little by little I am chilling out, thinking up ways of filling the days that stretch out before me. Jools has gone to work taking the car, so I will mill around the house, doing chores and getting stuff done, inbetween the sitting around doing nothing, like usually happens.

Anyway, back to earlier in the week.

Tuesday.

We had a late start back at the factory, not having to be there until nine, but we find ourselves all ready to go at twenty past eight, so drive the 6km to the factory and prepare for the day ahead. At least this would not last past half two as the auditors have flights to catch, so we put up with the circular nature of the day counting the minutes down. In the end, we finish at half one, and we wave them off at two, and Anni and I head back to the hotel. After just 5 hours sleep, thanks to the beer and mozzies, I take to my pit for a couple of hours before a short walk before dinner, where I find myself on a bridge overlooking a marshalling yard hoping to see some train on train action.



I see a single shunter, bustling back and forth, so I snap that as it passed beneath me, before heading back to the hotel to meet with Anni for pre-dinner drinks. And then dinner. And then back to my room to catch up on work, as I have to clear my in tray by the time we leave for the airport at ten the next morning. This meant working through a warm and sulty evening, and I failed to head out to snap the super moon rising over the bell tower in the centre of town, which we saw on the way back from the restaurant the evening before. I take to my bed at half eight, and soon sleep takes me, and the mozzies get to work having their dinner. And supper.



Wednesday.

I am awake at half five thanks to the early night previously. I put the computer on to listen to some music and wait until seven until it was time for breakfast.

I have the usual things; fruit, yoghurt, a roll filled with cheese. And coffee. Lots of coffee. Anni Joins me and we chat about work and stuff. And back to my room, to finish a re-write of a document so it can be sent off before ten. That done by nine, I pack, take the lift down to the lobby to check out. Anni is waiting so we make an early start for the airport.



Its a quiet drive, although made exciting by the high powered cars hurtling past us on the autobahn at 'oh my goodness that was quick' speeds. Or words similar or ruder.

Finding a place to drop the car off was trickier than it should be as they seemed like to hide the signs, but we find it, and within a couple of seconds we have logged the car in, and we can walk to the departure hall to check in. But we are a tad early. I have three hours before the flight, and Anni has four. And I suspect, correctly, that I will not be able to check in until two hours before the flight is due. Anni, flying with another carrier is able to drop her bags off, I have to stand in line for 35 minutes until twenty past eleven. The assistant sits at the desk looking at the clock, and does not try to log in un til the clock ticked to twenty past. As I was in the front, I get to check in first, request a window seat, and am free to go through security.



Anni is waiting me the other side, so we go for an early lunch of salad and a diet Coke. All exciting stuff. I look for some stuff to buy in the shops, but I bault at the price of the whisky, and the chocolates are the usual tourist stuff, like Toblerones the side of mountains and the such. At just before one the gate opens, and so I big farewell to Anni and take me and my work bag to the flight.

Once again I have a row to myself, and no space to store my bag above my seat, but I see now the narrow overhead lockers are such above these rows due to the fact the wings take up some of the space, and being quite important on planes, I don't mind. No delays this time, we taxi away and roar off down the runway and into the blue sky and home. Home for my holibobs.

Europe is covered in cloud, and I see no land until we reach the Dutch coast and I see the mouth of a large river. I had passed most of the flight sipping a glass of red wine and reading the interesting in flight magazine. No, you read that right. And down we came, flying over the Essex coast, breaking through the cloud cover north of Southend and flying over to Kent then round south London before turning to swoop low over the river, passing over the Houses of Parliament, The Barbican and The City. Again.

Landing at two in the afternoon means no competing with other flights for landing slots, so we run straight into final approach and straight to the runway, bouncing and then being thrown against the seat in front as the pilot selects full reverse thrust. We stop at gate four, the doors open and we are free to go, and no waiting at immigration, just those who were rushing to get off the flight first.

My case is waiting at reclaim, so I walk to the DLR station catch the first train to Canning Town and change for a train to Stratford. I realise I could catch the five to three train, but decide on the one twenty minutes later direct to Dover so Jools could get the full eight hours work in, and no upset the company. So, at Stratford I head to the cafe for a brew and to finish the book I had been dipping in and out of for the last three weeks. So I decide to wait on the platform.

Being just before the start of rush hour, I get a seat on the train, and so I can now really begin to relax as we storm under East London, through south Essex and under the Thames. Jools is waiting at the Station, I load my cases and we drive home, up onto the cliffs and along Reach Road.

I am on holiday!

We have fish and chips for dinner, and as the day fades we discuss the work on the house, as now we have confirmation of a start date for the rendering, the windows have almost all been done, so just the final act to do.

And I'm on holiday. Did I mention that?

I try to watch an episode of Top Gear, but Clarkson really is a dick and I can't bear it, so switch the TV off. I unpack, have a shower so I am all nice and clean for my holiday.

Wednesday 10th September 2014

Sunday.

The reason I am packing for a business trip on Sunday morning is that to get it all in, that is two days travel two days auditing, before my holiday begins on Wednesday evening, it all has to be done at the start of the week, travel on Sunday, audit Monday and Tuesday and travel back on Wednesday. And relax for 17 days on the bounce. As you do.

So, we have breakfast, I get ready and at ten we drive down into town and I am dropped off at the station. Here I am again. I get a ticket, and board the train and slump in my seat waiting for departure time.

And away we go, through Kent on a gloriously sunny day. And much to my surprise the train fills up and its standing room only after Ashford.



At the airport I realize I am with KLM, which means their ticket machine will not print tickets until two hours before departure, and not a second before. So I wait for eight minutes, until the machine agrees that it is half twelve and my ticket is printed. There are no queues in the departure lounge, and head to the Italian restaurant for some pasta and a glass of wine for lunch. Although, if I’m honest I don’t think the meal was cooked by Italians, they just pretended.

Whatever the case, the food was tasty enough and I am happy enough, doubly so as my company picked up the tab. Yay. I wait for the flight to be called, and then join the rush for the gate to we can all sit on the compfy seats and wait some more as we all have allocated seats. Its madness. But then I realize that inside the flight, there are only six overhead bins big enough for a business case, and me being a businessman these days, although one dressed in a holey t shirt, mine does not fit. But as the flight was not full, I put it on the seat beside me, until I am told off. It must go on the floor.



The plane then breaks down, and so we sit there for an hour as a guy in a day glo tabard brings modules in until the aircraft decides which one it likes and agrees to start.

And off we go, squashed in our three-quarter sized seats all jammed in with our cabin luggage; who said the golden age of travel was over? No me.

I try to snooze as we fly over Essex and head out over the sea at Felixstowe. The sea is lost to clouds, so I close my eyes. I open them to see Belgium and Holland passing below through gaps in the clouds.

I can reveal that far east Germany is very similar to far western Germany; all forest, fields and the such. Oh the lure of business travel.

I get the keys to the hire car and wait for my colleague to arrive, which she does in about ten minutes. After the chaos with the German sat nav on our last German trip.

I brought my own this time, and had already programmed it for the half hour trip to the hotel in the wonderfully named town of Shwarzheide.

Up the autobahn at 120kmh, something like half the speed of the fastest car on the road, which was an ancient Passat which went by at warp factor 9.8.

The hotel was easy to find, and there was a parking space, but the luxury coach brought the promise of old people, who would no doubt be complaining all through dinner and breakfast. The hotel is nice enough , and we have a nice local meal, which included, at least for me, a huge plate of pickles for a starter. And even I was pickled out after eating three quarters of them. But they must count as several of my five a day; right?

Finally I quality check the beer, and it passed. Which was good.

Monday.

The day of work. Or the first day of work.

I needed more sleep, but six hours would have to do after watching the Germany v Scotland game until half eleven the previous night. Oh well.

Work goes OK, I stay awake which is always good. And in the evening we are invited to a local restaurant for a meal with people from the factory. It is 1.4 km from the hotel. We walk. After about 1.3km there is doubt cast by the other three that I do not know where I am going, and we are going in the wrong direction. A check of Google maps proves me correct, but I get no apologies, which is about normal.

Food is good, decent local food, plenty of vegetables and lots of local beer, which is very nice.

We walk back to the hotel and we end up talking about work until midnight, some beer may also have been drunk. Anything is always possible.

So begun just five hours sleep. So it goes

Sunday 7th September 2014

It is Sunday morning, the sun has risen slowly casting its light through wisps of mist. Colours are muted and the shadows are lengthening. The year is getting old, even though it might still feel like Summer, it has less than four months to run. I am whiling the morning away until about ten, when Jools is going to drop me off at the station. Again. As I head up to the airport. Again. But this time I am not heading for Denmark, but Germany, and a place I have only driven through, Dresden. THese are my last few days of work before my annual vacation begins on Thursday, and so I am doubly happy.

Saying that, being away from home is something I am never happy about, but the sadness I feel as I pack and make ready is reversed as I make the return trip. So, swings and roundabouts.

Friday. As I am working most of Sunday, I take most of Friday off to compensate. But there is always time for a meeting or two, as is the case this day. That done, I pack the computer and work away, make the builders another cuppa and settle down to watch last weekend's MOTD2, which I end up watching in chunks as the guy's drills shake the house to the foundations as they remove the old windows and fit the new. It does begin to look very good indeed, and will look stunning once the new render is put on too. But for now we have clean and larger windows out of which to survey our little bit of Albion.



In the afternoon I watch the previous night's drama, Castles in the Sky, a dramatic recreation of the invention of radar, the towers of which still dominate Dover skyline. Sadly, I had to watch it in 30 second chunks due to the narrow bandwidth we still have, and so the effect was slightly ruined, but enjoyable nonetheless, and amazed that politics was being played within the Minstry of War with the nation's defence. Outsode the cloud was thick enough to send a few drops of rain down, and the light too poor for much photography, so I sat inside, or retreated out into the garden to read, where I would be joined by at least two of the cats. And in this way the day passed.



I also cook dinner through the day; grilled vegetables, then whisked up, adding some grilled chorizo to make a fine pasta sauce, meaning just having to cook the pasta, warm the sauce created a fine dinner soon after Jools returned from the world of boxes.



Saturday.

No shopping required. At least very little, and as Jools has an errand to run in town, she returns soon after nine with croissants, so we have a late breakfast.

The plan had been for Jools to drop me off in Capel and for me to walk back to Dover along the cliffs. However, the guy who is doing the rendering, called to say he was going to be late to come round to discuss the finer details of the rendering. I volunteer to stay behind, doing the grown up thing and so forgo the pleasant walk along the cliffs. Noddy turns up nearly two hours late, smokes roll ups as he talks, but we hammer out the details, and the work is to begin on the 20th.

So, I listen to the radio, edit some photos, and generally grumble about the fact there is no football on the radio to listen to, as there is no games in the top two divisions as England are attempting to play on Monday evening. I even go into the garden in the afternoon to do some tidying up. And in the way the afternoon passes into evening. I make another chorizo hash for dinner, and then I retire to the patio to watch dusk fall, and the fat old yellow moon rise over the trees at the bottom of the garden. Once again I am joined by a couple of the cats. Jools is watching Dr Who, but she too joins me when that is finished, as by now night has fallen and the stars just about shine through the thin cloud covering the sky.

Saturday 6th September 2014

Thursday.

After my late night, awaking at six was never going to be pleasant, even hiding under the duvet did not make the morning go away. I shower, pack go down to reception and check out, load the car and then walk back in the hotel for breakfast and to meet my friend again. We both are suffering from a bad case of 'morning,'

At least the drive to work is not long, and we race each other along the ring road and then out to the office. I switch my computer on to find I have ten minutes before the first meeting of the day, and that I have solid meetings until lunch.

Work passes and soon it is time to drive down the motorway to the airport. I have a Ford C-Max, some kind of MPV big enough for seven people, and I have it to myself. It is wonderful to tear down the road at 130km, when the speed limit allows. It is a glorious day, the sun is shining down from an almost totally clear blue sky, and was warm enough to have the air con rammed up to maximum.

When checking in, I ask if I have a ticket for the business lounge; sadly not, but that was soon to change when I got home. Anyway, I sit amongst the Danes heading out to sunnier climes, all dressed in their leisure gear all ready for the beach and drinking half litres of Danish beer. They were going to have a good time. Once the crowds thin a tad, I walk up to the gastropub and have a small, I repeat a SMALL, glass of beer. I am joined by a colleague/friend and we put the world, or the company to rights. As I look down onto the departure lounge below, I see more people from our company, and the customer on the Thanet project, and it turns out at least eight of us are on the flight to London.

So, once the flight is called, we all go to gate 2, and a third of the flight are either colleagues or friends of mine. We all chat as we wait to board, and most get to sit next to someone we knew.

Western Europe is mostly cloudless, and so I look out of the window as southern Denmark, western Holland and Belgium roll by, and then over the southern North Sea where we also pass over a few windfarms, some still being built. There is no escape from the bloody things.

Anyway, as we approach England, the cloud cover thickens, and so Essex is lost from view, and we only break cloud cover as we swoop over south London as we bank of the Crystal Palace TV transmitter and again over Battersea Power Station. As usual, my camera is in my work bag in the hold, so you will have to take my word how wonderful it is to fly over Buckingham Palace, the Palace of Westminster,, Regent Street, Piccadilly Circus, The Barbican and finally the City. We swoop lower over Stratford and finally the Exel Arena and down we go. Back in Blighty.

We are let off, a short wait at immigration, collect my bag, rush up to the DLR station to see a train leaving for Stratford. This means I have seven whole minutes for the next one! I didn't mind, I wouldn't have made the earlier train anyway, so I do a quick bit of people watching whilst I wait.

On the platform at Stratford, a Eurostar thunders through at over 100mph. As we head out of the tunnel at Dagenham, dusk is falling, the sky is dusky pink and it looks like peace has settled on the land. It was almost dark by the time we get into Folkestone, and along the final stretch of line I can see nothing out of the windows so I can't tell when we are in a tunnel or running along the bottom of the cliffs. Jools is waiting, and she tells me that back home we have a new back door and some new windows as the boys had begun the next phase of 'operation big job.'

Friday 5th September 2014

Wednesday.

Life is always better after a good night's sleep. And so it was this morning. Nearly nine hours sleep, and waking early enough to be able to lay in bed looking at the dawn creeping round the curtains. Oh well, can't avoid it any longer, better get up and take on the day. In fact, grab it by the tits and show it who is boss. Thing is, this was going to be a challenging day at work, seven hours of non-stop meetings and one of them, very challenging.

So, I have a shower, put on some smartish clothes and head down for breakfast.

Traffic in Arhus is as bad as ever, at least leaving at twenty past seven means you miss the worst of the traffic. Or at least I do. Anyway. I get to the office only to find that the reception staff are not on duty, and so I am stuck outside until a colleague sees me and lets me in the door and into the offices.



OK: lets get this done!

The day passes, and it goes as well as as it could be expected. In fact, it exceeds expectations and so by the time the evening comes, I am ready for something to eat and maybe a drink. And as it turns out, this very evening a team meal has been planned in downtown Arhus, so I dash back to the hotel, get changed and grab my camera and order a taxi to take me where the action is. And as it happens there is a lot of action in Arhus.



There is a music festival on, and the streets are full of people milling around, street performers and lots and lots of people. Or did I mention that already? Anyway, there is an organ recital going on in the cathedral, so I pass on that, but wander the city centre just taking in the sights, which is very good, particularly as summer seems to have returned to these northern climes. People are walking around still in their summer clothes, smiling and eating ice creams and the such. Young kids are jiving to some faux disco-Elvis, but it seems to work. Down by the cafe-lined canal, kids are frollicing in zorbing balls on the water. What better place to leave your kids whilst you have a swifter or two?



Dinner was arranged at a new restaurant called KoD, which means 'meat' in Danish. And they do serve meat, but then most Danish restaurants serve on heck of a lot of meat. There was 16 of us, and service was kinda slow, and the starters were all served on a platter which meant if you were last to get it, the platter was empty, so you went hungry. Now, the staff did try to rectify this. Anyway, the main course was great, steak, and more steak, with a few chips. Very few. And once again if you were last to get the platter, no chips left. But there was more than enough meat. MEAT.



I then head to meet a colleague at an English pub for a drink, and arrive to find the barman talking to a customer about Thomas Hardy ale. After a while my interest was piqued, so I order a bottle. Turns out this a wonderfully rare beer, and is some five years old, and 11.7% but costs 350DK, which is about £30. But what the heck, and it was an experience, and one I shared with Steffen. To my delight they also had 6X on draught, which was really good too, and a tenth of the price of the bottle of beer. We then get into an argument with a guy about whether Nicklas Bendtner was any good as a footballer or not. Let me say, I think the Dane is dreadful as a footballer, but the guy thought otherwise, and was drunk enough to talk louder and louder before ending up shouting to force his argument. And he would not shut up.



We head back to the hotel, bid our farewells and I head up to bed, as the clock told me it was now Thursday. Oh dear.

Thursday 4th September 2014

Monday.

First day of September, and the weather is glorious, like summer has returned, so I head into the office in Ramsgate for a day of productive work. As you do. I steal my old seat by the window, and open the window so to get a nice breeze flowing. It is almost pleasant, even if work itself isn’t.

At the end of the day, I head home picking up Jools on the way, so we drive along Reach Road, with its stunning views over the edge of the cliffs and the Channel to France, even if it is mostly lost from view in the mist. Inside the house it is carnage; or it had been, with the living room full of bird feathers, a vole in the kitchen, another on the steps outside along with the back end of a mouse. Them cats sure to like to shower us with gifts.

I am glued to the computer and the radio as the final hours of the transfer window tick away, with the deals and moves getting increasingly desperate. Still, it is fun and interesting. However, after yet another portion of apple and blackberry crumble, I can feel my eyes getting heavy, so give up on the deadline days news at a quarter past ten.

Tuesday.

Just as well I did, as deals were still being announced at half one the next morning, as I found out when I checked on the computer the next morning before the usual early morning dash to the station for the early train to London. Once I am sat on the train and it glides out of the station, I reflect on how twenty nine years ago, I was a lowly process worker in a rural chicken factory, and by a very circular route here I am globe=trotting quality expert. Its an odd life.

London is its usual hustle and over-crowded trains. I climb onto the DLR and we go through east London to the airport. But at least being a Tuesday, it was just busy as opposed to being rammed with people. Once through security, I treat myself to what is called a full English, but it just a rasher of bacon, a sausage, some beans and toast. But, as I know I won’t eat again until the evening, I tell myself that I’m worth it.

We take off on time, and soon we are flying through a Simpson-esque sky, heading over Essex and Suffolk out into the North Sea and bound for Denmark. Down below the countryside is a patchwork of browns as the harvest is all but complete, and the next crops are being prepared or have been sowed.

I pick up a huge Ford MPV from the car hire place, drive down to Esbjerg for a meeting, and am on my way north again in less than an hour as that is where I am to stay in the hotel. It is a wonderful late summer evening, but also rush hour, and as seems the way, Audi and Mercedes drivers don’t have to keep to the speed limit and are in some kind of race. But I have all evening, and tootle along, arriving at the hotel at just before six, giving me time to settle in to my room before dinner at half past.

I wanted to say something healthy when asked for what I wanted, but I heard my stomach say burger and fries, which, I have to admit hit the spot.

Back in my room, my eyes began to drop, and despite being only half eight in England, I decided I had had enough, and went to bed. Another day done, and not a chicken giblet in sight…..

Monday 1st September 2014

Sunday.

As usual at the weekend I was awake at half five, waiting for dawn’s early light to leak round the curtains. At my feet Molly slept soundly.

After breakfast we got our shit together, which, in fairness, did take some time, but we headed out at half nine, heading for Sandgate for the walk along the prom which we agreed yesterday would be a splendid idea.



We found a place to park at the west end of the village, I grabbed my camera and off we set. All along the coast road are many old and much newer buildings, all facing towards France. It is a most pleasing sight if I’m honest. And although we are perfectly happy in the ugly house, we thought some would be fine places to live, if not that cat friendly.



At the ‘welcome to Hythe’ sign, we turn inland and follow the military canal for a while, until we come to the metal bridge linking the prom to the town, at that point we turn back and walk back up the prom, this time calling in at a refreshment stall to buy a couple of 99s. Despite eating them quickly, I suspect that melted ice cream had accumulated at the bottom of the cone. This is confirmed as I bite into what was left of the cone, an explosion of what looked like milk coats my t shirt.



All there was left to do was laugh. So we did.

We explore a bit of Sandgate before heading back home in time for dinner. We have cold sausage sandwiches, and then Jools makes apple and blackcurrant crumble, which is delicious smothered in fresh cream and accompanied by a fresh strong cuppa.



It would have been tempting to spend the afternoon sorting through photos and listening to the footy on the radio. However, I head outside to mow the lawn and help Jools finish trimming the hedges round the back garden. It is oddly satisfying, and we now have plans on another project, this time to plant more stuff, have a pond and a fountain.

Maybe.

After snoozing through the second half of the football, I make chorizo hash for dinner, washed down with another bottle of Cava, before I catch up on the previous night’s MOTD before I run out of time and its bedtime again.

We end the day sitting in candlelight on the patio watching aircraft and satellites passing between us and the diamond-like stars of the milky way. A fine way to end the day.

This week seems more Denmark.