Sunday 9th November 2014 (part 2)

Sunday.

It is the day of rest.

So I rest.

We lay until nearly seven, outside a few mournful birds were singing in the heavy rain. I get up, come downstairs to be greeted by three hopeful feline faces wanting breakfast. The rain falls heavier outside.

After the first cup of coffee, I settle down to watch the football from the recorder. Everyone apart from Chelski are awful, and with the exception of Southampton, all seem to have given up and are doing impressions of Norwich. So it goes. Liverpool lose to Chelsea, Citeh draw with QPR. It passes the time anyway.



Once I have booked my seat on the flight tomorrow, we drive into Deal so we could walk along the prom, prom, prom. The rain had stopped, and the sun was threatening to break through. Deal out of season means being able to find a parking space, which is nice. We park by the pier, and have to decide to head towards Walmer or Sandwich. Sandwich is the winner, so we walk north, along the new sea defences, and past the dozens of people trying to teach worms to swim. Or fishing as they like to call it.



There is barely a breath of wind, and the sea is so calm there is hardly a wave breaking on the beach. All very nice indeed. We reach Sandown Castle, or the remains of it, turn round and walk back to the car, this time heading along Middle Street once we were back into town. The place is nearly deserted, and very pleasant to walk through. Near the car, the smell of frying bacon was almost too much to bear, but we do resist and head back home for lunch of toasted jalapeno bread and a large cuppa. Oh, and another generous slice of early Christmas cake. Well, Mum said she didn;t want it, so we didn't want it to go to waste, did we?



In the afternoon, I listen to the football, prepare and order calendars for Christmas presents, edit photos, pack, and at half three do a session on the cross trainer, I am man. And I do things.

The weekend is slipping by, it is getting dark outside when Jools comes back from seeing Nan: the visions have stopped, but she is in a poor way, too fragile to move, hardly eating or drinking. She wants to die. Its hard on Jools, seeing Nan like that. Old age will get us all, unless something else doesn't first.



Dinner is chorizo hash and a pint. Perfect.

I shower, pack. And there is just a couple of hours of the weekend left. Where did it go?

Tomorrow is Denmark, more audits and inspections. And rain. And Christmas beer. Skol!

Sunday 9th November 2014

Saturday.

Oh yes, my good friend Mr Weekend, how I've missed you.

Whilst working away from home is not as bad as my moaning might make it seem, travelling back on a Friday and flying back out on Monday makes the weekend seem very short indeed, especially as I leave left the offices in Arhus on Friday, so were many others who were making an early start on the weekend. Mine would have to wait some eight hours.

But the weekend did arrive, and very welcome it was too. So welcome I was laying awake at half five, listening to the silence outside. Is that even possible? Listening to silence I mean. Well, I love the quiet of St Maggies, and just the wind in the trees, the few early birds looking for food and singing to the whole world about it. And at least one of the cats meowing to make sure we knew it was time for breakfast. Or at least, cats breakfast.

I get up, put on my dressing gown and walk down the stairs, into the kitchen, filling the coffee pot and then heading into the utility too, to feed them cats. It makes them happy, and making them happy makes me happy.

We have a coffee, then plan the day: drive upto the Hoo Peninsular, snap a train, come back, maybe go out to snap it again, the usual.

Hoo is an area east of Gravesend, right at the end of the Thames estuary, and as well as the setting for Great Expectations, it is now home to power stations, Thamesport and still a few scattered communities. It lies over the other side of the Medway, but could not be more different to the Medway towns. Very quiet, rural. It also has a frieght only branch line serving Thamesport and another wharf. And today, a passenger tour was going to travel up and down it. Not earth-shattering stuff, but worth a trip out, standing on a windy bridge for half an hour with half a dozen other like-minded people with cameras.



It is a long drive up the A2 then the M2, past Faversham and then the Medway towns. I suppose we could have taken the tunnel, the Medway Tunnel that is, but I like to drive over the motorway bridge beside HS1. Just in case we see a train. But we don't.

I look at the clock, I realsie we are cutting it fine for my first shot, passing by the signal box at Grain, and to add to the pressure, the fuel light came on. No time to stop now, press on.

We arrive at the crossing with ten minutes to spare, I take out my camera with the nifty fifty, check some angles and decide on the shot I want with the small signal box and the gates in the shot. And wait. The gates are closed, I hear a rumble and a huge class 66 trundles up, stopping on the crossing to receive a token from the signal man. Engines roar and it inches off, accelerating to a quick walking pace. I cross back over the road to snap the loco on the back as it passes.



The gates are opened, I make my way back to Jools in the car and we drive back down where a new bridge has been built over the line to be ready to snap it on the way back. It is a fine, but chilly and windy morning. We wrap up and wait. And wait. We can just see the train dwarfed under the gas storage tanks a mile or so away, so we will have plenty of warning when it does come back.

Quarter of an hour late, it begins to move, and we get ready as the driver pushes the power controls and it speeds up to something like 30mph. I snap it all the while, and soon it fill the viewfinder before, seconds later, if disappears below our feet, and its all over.



The A2 is blocked at Canterbury, so we drive down the 229 on Bluebell Hill to join the M20, and drive down through Maidstone, Ashford and Folkestone before we approach Dover. Jools has an errand to run in town: I don't, so I suggest I wait in the Rack of Ale sampling a pint whilst I wait. Yes, that seems a very good idea indeed. I have a pint of mild, and then try the new barrel of stout which is very nice indeed before Jools comes back and we return to the car and drive home for lunch.

Two pints in half an hour means I would be snoozing on the sofa, which I do, whilst listening to the football. Later I wake up to follow City's game on the internet. We throw away a goal lead in the final 5 minutes to lose 2-1 at Forest and enter the crisis zone. What happens now? Who knows, but this aint good enough, and we all knows it.

The evening highlight is the final Dr Who of the series, which Jools watches, and I don't. But we're both happy, and that's what matters.

Saturday 8th November 2014

Thursday.

Another day of meetings. Or meeting.

The meeting was not due to start until nine, but I was awake before six, so got up at half past, had a shower, got ready and went down for breakfast. Here we go again.

Outside it was a cool and damp morning with a hint of mist in the air, traffic was already heavy, and a drive along the O2 would certainly wake me up. It is odd, that Arhus has such a bad traffic problem, but all roads seemed to be jammed in the mornings, but I know the roads leading onto the city are even worse. I get to the office with no trouble, only breaking the speed limit by 10km/h a few times. And so it was time to prepare for the meeting and act like an adult for a while.

All goes well, in fact better than that, so I was able to relax, enjoy a leisurely lunch with plenty of chit chat. All very civilised.

The meeting breaks up early, all parties being happy enough. I catch up on my mails before heading back to the hotel to chill. In a surprise move, I order meatball and rice with curry sauce instead of burger and fries, which is good, and the food was even OK.

Another day over, and tomorrow, I get to go home.

Friday.

And here we are again, awake before dawn, laying in bed listening to the traffic passing on the ring road outside my window. Time to pack, have breakfast and check out.

And today I have yet more meetings. No, worse than that, an audit. And instead I was the one being audited. The auditor becomes the audited. Oh, the horror. But thanks to the hard work of my colleagues, all goes well, and once again we end up having a very pleasant lunch, a bit more of an audit and shake hands and pack up. Whilst others in the office are packing up for an early start to the weekend, I have an hour drive to the airport, wait for my flight, an hour and 50 minutes to London then crossing London on the DLR in the rush hour and then getting a train to Dover. THEN, the weekend can begin. I shouldn't complain, but with travelling back on a Friday evening, and back out Monday morning, it makes the weekend seem so short.

And that is how it panned out, driving south to the airport in the weak Danish sunshine. At the airport I call my old boss to see if he is at the airport and see if he can sign me into the business lounge: the answer is yes and yes. He meets me at the door and I am in the land of free beer and free snacks and decent wifi.

My flight has been put back 20 minutes, which does not sound too much, but that 20 minutes means making the direct train to Dover at seven fifteen tricky. Philip leaves on the Manchester flight at five, leaving me alone with the free beer. Oh, the horror.

We take off on time, and with clear skies over Denmark and Holland means the lights glisten below me as we travel south towards London. I snooze, obvs, I mean after three halves, who wouldn't? As we make our final approach along the Thames, I see roads are heavy with traffic, with the M25 at Dartford stationary for miles on either side. A Eurostar hurtles along below, soon I hoped to be travelling along those same tracks heading home. Once landed, we are made to sit in the plane for 20 minutes, whilst a plane on the next pan readies to take off, then we have no staff to escort us the 5m to the door of the terminal. I try not to get frustrated.

What is called a 'passenger indecent' means that one of the DLR lines is blocked, not the one I want to travel on, but the trains are packed, I just get on with my bag and case. I look at my watch, it is two minutes past seven, 15 minutes to get to Stratford. I am pretty sure I won't make it, and think of getting a coffee for the inevitable wait until five to eight. And I am right, I get to the station four minutes after the train has left. I by a drink and sit down to watch people passing by, the heady mix of people with cultures from the four corners of the world: it is dizzying, but wonderful, not as the Daily Hate Mail would have it, horrific or frightening. I love it.

I get a packed train to Ashford, wait 15 minutes on the platform looking at the sparkling stars above, and the Eurostars thundering past a few feet away at 175mph. The wires fizzle and shake after the trains have past. This is the future.

And here it comes, the final leg of the trip back home. I slump into a seat, read some articles in Empire as the inky blackness of the Kentish countryside slips by outside.

Jools is waiting in the car, I throw in the cases and we drive home. The weekend had arrived.

I had had a good week at work, and Jools had completed her first week at her new job. Yay. And yay.

Friday 7th November 2014

Monday.

Being a Monday, better head to Denmark on what is likely to be the first in three if not four weeks in the land of strong beer and crispy bacon. And Jools was starting her new job, But I was so wrapped up in thoughts of my tasks for the day, I forgot to wish her luck, but I remember at the airport so sent a text. Jools dropped me off at the station, I bought the tickets and waiting on the platform for the train, making calls on my mobile so putting out those early morning fires.

I felt in control. Good.

The train arrived early, so I settled into a seat and waited for the departure, squeezing in a call to my boss updating him on the firefighting.

Still in control. Still good.

We moved off into the dawn of the new week, I tried not to think that a week before I was preparing to head to Norwich for the beer festival. But here I was heading to London, with the commuters, drinking their coffees answering mails. Just like me, he said dressed like a tramp.

In London, it was light, I made my way to the airport on the DLR, still felt good. I checked in, went through security, and made my way to a table with a view of the large TV so I could catch up on the news. I ordered poached eggs and a coffee, and so the waiting began. And the eating.

The flight left late, and we were in a queue to take off, but nothing unusual in that. We took off, and for a while London was spread out below before it slipped out of view under the clouds. I read a magazine, and so the journey passed quietly. It is now so routine, I hate to sound blasé, but it is.

Once back on the ground, I was the last one off the plane, and ambled along as I knew there would be a queue at immigration, so if I hurried I would only have to queue there. I signed for a car, walked to the lot, loaded up and was all set for the 45 minute drive to the factory.

Denmark was in all its autumnal finery: trees were golden, and leaves fell like golden snow in the gentle breeze creating a golden carpet between the trees. It would have been wonderful to stop and just look: but I had to be in Varde by two, and time was getting on. I pressed on, and soon arrived, although the customer had missed her flight from Amsterdam, and so we had a couple of hours to kill before she arrived. We filled the time by drinking coffee and swapping stories, about turbines. As you do.

She arrived at three, and so we began a discussion about what we should do over the next day, that done, we broke up and I set off for the hotel in Esbjerg, where I guessed I would eat a burger in the evening. Sadly, the Irish bar has closed, which gives some relief for my liver, and makes the thought of a walk in the Danish evening, with rain sheeting down, somewhat unattractive.

I have burger and beer, and then retire for the evening to spend it in my smoking jacket puffing on cigars and sipping vintage port. Or not.

Tuesday

I am awake so bloody early, so I lay awake listening to the town waking up too. I shower, collect my things and go down to have breakfast, then drive over to Varde, arriving half an hour before the start of the day. And so the merry dance began.

In truth the day went well, by lunchtime the dancing had finished and there were no more questions, and the meeting broke up at two with Mariska driving to the airport, ahead of schedule for a change. I drove to the hotel, climbed into bed and snoozed. As you do, whilst outside, night fell.

That night I went out with two of my colleagues, well friends really, for a meal at the place over the road, and better than anything, Philip picked up the tab. It is so nice to have people to eat with, and to chat and laugh. Yes, a very nice evening, but one filled with too much meat.

Wednesday.

5th November

Bonfire Night (actual)

But not here in Denmark.

Again, awake at silly o’clock, I pack, shower and check out, meet Anni for breakfast and get ready for the short drive to the port. Last time I was here they were digging up the branch line to the port, a shame I thought, that even here in Denmark they are removing lines. But no, they relaid it, put in longer sidings beside the south port, ready for the transportation of turbines, and indeed as I made to turn across the line, a maintenance train was crossing the road, with another load of ballast for the tracks.



The day is one long meeting. We drink coffee. Talk. Drink coffee. Talk. Walk round the site. Drink coffee. Talk. It goes well, and they are satisfied.



All that is left now is to drive the hour or so up to Arhus to another hotel, book into an identical room , look at an identical menu and order burger and beer.

The drive is good, as I make it before it is filly dark, and it feels safer to do that. It rains some, but then it is Denmark in November.

Just time to write some mails, watch some more football before another day of meetings tomorrow. And guess what I’m doing Friday? Yes, more meetings, but also going home.

Monday 3rd November 2014

Sunday.

With heavy rain forecast for the afternoon, we decided to make the most of it before the rain hit. As the work uncovering the WWII works in Fan Bay have beenin going apace, I knew they had uncovered the sound mirrors. So, after watching MOTD, I grabbed my cameras and walking boots, and we drove along Reach Road to the dog walkers car park, strapped on our boots and set off into the howling gale.



Nothing quite like walking along the cliffs in a storm, whilst the wind tried to sweep us off the cliff edge, down below the waves crashed against the foot of the cliffs: dramatic stuff!



We made our way along Langdon Bay a brisk ten miunte walk to Fan Bay, and there was the entrance to the deep shelter, little different from when we were last here. Where were the sound mirros? I saw some work had been done lower down the hillside, and sure enough, the works were fenced off, but it would be quite a scramble down to get shots. Should I go down?



Silly question, as I made my way down the very steep hill, 60 degrees in places, but steps had been cut in the earth making it possible to get down. The sound mirrors are almost in pristine condition, after over 60 years of being buried, and it was quite some job to uncover them. I got the record shots, then began to look for an easier way up, the path having been swept away in a cliff fall, I had to scramble back up the way I came, which I did with no bother.



Back home i put the rolls I had been making all morning, into the oven. So they would be cool enough to eat at lunch time.

The afternoon was filled with editing photos, laying on the sofa and listening to the radio. THe usual. Jools when to see Nan, who is still in a bad way and is also very frail.

Anyway, the rain arrived, sweeping great sheets of the stuff from the west, soaking the land and turning the afternoon into early evening.

Somehow, the day had slipped through my fingers, and it was time to pack for the trip to Denmark in the morning. Where does the time go?

Sunday 2nd November 2014

Saturday.

All Hallows Day.

All Saints Day.

Bonfire night (part 1).



Jools had done the shopping, so there was no need to be up early to head out, and yet we were both up and about before 6, looking to the east as the sky turned ever more glorious colours. And when the sun did rise above the horizon, it was into a mostly clear blue sky. But within minutes, cloud had rushed over covering the sky with a sheet of grey.



We decide to go for a walk before the weather really gets crappy, so we decide to head to Windy Ridge, an hour round trip, especially if I dawdle as I take shots. We pull on our walking boots, put our coats on, but as with the day before, it seems warm enough, just about to do without. In fact it was some eight degrees cooler than Friday, but once we began the steady climb along the muddy lanes, the blood started pumping and it was warm enough to unbutton our coats.



We saw precious few people about, but that was fine, in the woods at Windy Ridge, we saw a few fungi, nothing special, a good crop of King Alfred's Cakes, some Jelly Ears, a few button mushrooms and some forked orange coloured fungi. So, that done we headed back home, back down the hill, time enough for another brew.

I thought about the drain we rigged up last week, and how I could fix that, so I used insulation tape to tighten the joints, hoping that would do the job, and save a trip to B&Q.

The afternoon involved me, snoozing, the sofa and football on the radio. The usual mix. As Norwich had already played, I was not feeling as tense as usual, so sleep came even easier.

For dinner we had pan fried breaded aubergine and home made pasta salad. Light and tasty. SO all was eaten, washed and cleared up before the serious business of Dr Who began at a quarter past.

A quiet day, then.....

Apart from the very early bonfire night parties which lit up the night with flashing lights, bangs and scared the cats. Cheers for that.

Saturday 1st November 2014

Lets play catch-up.

Thursday.

Jools had two days off before she starts her new job on Monday, and she wanted to try out the public transport to Hythe. I drop her off at Martin Mill when it was still dark, and then head back home for breakfast and getting ready for work; locating the work phone, the pass to get in the compound, etc.

I drive myself to work, at least the car knows the way to go. It is just getting light as I make my way to Ramsgate, only to find the tunnel still closed due to the sewer collapse near the beach, so I have to make my way round the harbour to the office.

It is the modern way that we dread the first day back after any time off due the the backlog of mails in our inboxes. Indeed, I had over 50, all apparently urgent, so like everyone, I answer the easy ones first, and so by lunchtime I was back in control, or at least at a point where I believed I was in control.

The day carries on in much the same way until I have had enough, I mean really had enough and turn the computer off and go home. It was still light, the clouds had parted and the sun was casting golden light on Thanet. Once home I dust off the cross trainer again and do a session, and feel much better about myself. Listening to good music helps with the huffing and puffing of course.

It was getting dark as I begun my workout, and was totally dark by the time I finished. It is going to be the end of March before we can think about doing anything outside after work. Oh well.

We watch Autumnwatch on TV in the evening, something undemanding.

Friday.

All Hallows Eve.

Halloween.



Jools is to walk to Deal in the morning, and I am to work from home due to the high winds blowing. Well, not strong, but there would be a good chance the monkeys would be in the office. So, I power the laptop up and get cracking, and straight away, major fire to put out. And so it continues. Bloody Fridays, its supposed to be the final bit of the slope before the weekend, not this pain in the arse thing that stresses us out!

Meetings, meetings and more meetings. Troubles are solved or passed onto someone else.



The final part of the day is the final preparations for next week, briefing people so they know what is expected. And then it is the weekend.

Yay.



I have a touch of sciatica coming back, and it is bad enough to tell me to stay off the cross trainer at least for that night anyway. It is Jools' brother's 50th birthday this weekend, and we are invited to the combined birthday-cum-Halloween party/bbq thing. We drive to Whitfield, and then up to his house where the smoke is already hanging over the garden meaning the food should soon be ready. We are not in costume, but many are. It has been a glorious golden day, with temperatures up to 24 degrees in the north of the country, this means it was the warmest Halloween on record, and almost warm enough to sit in the back garden sans coat. Almost.



We stay for over an hour, eat a burger, a banger in a bun and drink a beer. My back is bad, and I just want to have a shower and chill out on the sofa, so we go home.

I end up following the Norwich v Bolton game on Twitter: it has been switched due to being screened on Sky, but football on a Friday night just don't feel right. Saying that, it changes our luck as we take a 2-0 lead early in the 2nd half, but then manage to concede in the dying moments to make it 'interesting.' We wond 2-1, had we won 3-0 we would have gone top, as it was we finish the day third.