In just 30 days time, we will be in Tokyo. Just sayin, not that we're excited about it or anything.
Tuesday
The first of three trips away with work before we go east. Way out east, so, best make the most of it. Anyway, I had a few ideas to sweeten the trip away. The first being on the trip to the airport, and what with there being no trains from Dover, and to save taxi fares, I got Jools to drop me off at Folkestone, so I could catch the slow train upto Charing Cross. That was the plan; we had to get up first, and make it to the station and all that.
In order to save on waiting time around the airport, I decide to go with no check in bags, and carry it all on me back, so I would be like a little two-footed fat turtle for a couple of days. A change of clothes, my laptop, leads, notebook, magazine, book and the camera was a tight squeeze, but it all did fit in.
I could have made it on the high speed train at half seven to be honest, and I did think about it, but it would mean sitting around up LOndon for a while, or finding a greasy spoon for second breakfast. Which was attractive, but I thought better of it.
I caught the 'classic' service at twenty to eight, to trundle up thrugh the Kentish Weald to Tonbridge then into the south eastern London suburbs to London Bridge then over the river to Charing Cross. Although it took over two hours to trundle up to London, sometimes it is good to take your time over things, like homework, but modern life is so fast, we should go slow on occasion. Desite being a 'peak' service, getting in just after half nine meant that even as we neared the city, the train wasn't full, so I could just enjoy the sights of Kent in the spring sunshine.
The approach into Charing Cross is always interesting; after passing through the half-rebuilt London Bridge station, then waving its way over the pitched roofs of Borough Market, then along the South Bank before tuning over the river and into the station, thus giving fine views down to Westminster from my window seat. And this is work. Kind of.
Just along The Strand, past Somerset House and St Mary Le Strand is the Savoy Hotel; Then just past there, down the hill leading to The Embankment, in an island of verdant grass sits The Queen's Chapel of the Savoy. I knew nothing of it's history to be honest, other than it is something to do with Her Maj, but after walking round the railings to the door under the small bell tower, I saw the magic sign: church open. I was given a cursory greeting by the man in the office, he told me to enjoy myself; I tried my best.
I had the church to myself; glorious roof and stunning stained glass windows and all to myself. I went round two or three times, snapping away. It was rather wonderful, even my feelings on the Royal Family notwithstanding. Turns out it's called The Savoy because of an ancient hospital that used to be in the area. So, I learned something.
I walked back down to Temple Tube station, I could see the side of the building which houses the entrance, and I recognised this from some distance away, I felt like a Londoner; but none were available. Two stops up the line is Monument, and just up Cornhill stand two churches: St Michael and St Peter. Now, I think I went into St Michael a few months back, but I could not find the shots, so, it being open again on this fine day, I went back, going round snapping another fine Wren church; although as the wardens said, he probably wouldn't have liked what the restorers did after the war, but the eggshell blue ceiling was fine with me.
I walked further up Cornhill to St Peter's, and it came as no surprise to find it locked, with no real idea if when, if ever, it will be open for viewing.
My final port of call was to be St Mary at Hill, if only I could find it. I seemed to think it was up Cornhill, but clearly wan't after a few minutes searching. I walked past The Walkie Talkie, through Leadenhall Market, past Lloys until I came to Fenchurch Street, and sure enough on the other side of the street, I saw a sign pointing to the church. So I cross the street and make my way to the gateway leading to the court, in which is the small graveyard, and on the other side, the doorway, which I hope will be open.
It is, and so after some 5 years, I am finally going in. And you know that worry you sometimes have that something long-anticipated won't live up to your expectations? Well, St Mary is that, with knobs on!
The church is almost empty, just a handful of modern chairs littler the floor, so the impression is a large square space, with the altar infront of a long set of curtains: and is something of a disappointment, but I go round getting shots of the windows and memorials until there was nothing else to snap.
It was now mid-morning, so time to think about going to the airport, the name to chill to the bone: Heathrow. I walk back to Monument station and get a westbound Circle Line train, go along the river then under Westminster to Kensington to Paddington. I have so time, so rather than spending huge sums at the airport on a small lunch, I go tot he small pub on the station and have a pint and a small bowl of nachos. I sit at the window, watching the trains coming and going, which is good enough for me. In fact I could have sat there all day and watched the trains, but work called.
I take the Heathrow Express, at £22 each way for a 15 minute blast up the GWML is overpriced as I have said before, but for the curious, like me, it does give fine views of the near-completed work on Crossrail in the shadow of the Westway, and the new sheds for the IEP or whatever they are going to call the new electric trains. Anyway, soon we turned off the main line, dived into a tunnel and were nearing the airport.
As I had no check in baggage, I could just my boarding pass and go through security, only the computer said my booking did not exist. I tried another, same result. I go to see a member of BA staff, he tried and got my reservation straight away. Oh well.
I find a place to sit down and check on my mails, send replies and so in about an hour I am up to date. I people watch, which is always fun, but at an airport is the gift that keeps on giving. Should I go for a look round the duty free shop? Upon reflection, I decide not to, not even the specialist whisky shop.
The flight is called, and I find I am already sitting at the right gate, so wait whilst all the other passengers arrive, then we frequent fliers are allowed to board first, before the rabble are allowed on. Anyway, I am sitting way at the back anyway, so I have a window seat without a view of the wing, I like to see the ground passing by if I can.
The plane is less than half full, and I have a whole row to myself, six seats, if I want. It feels luxurious to have so much space, and the servoce crew smile and are pleasant and insist I have a couple of packs of white chocolate covered lemon flavoured biscuits. So, I take them and munch them. As we fly over Gravesend, cloud obscures the view of the ground, and this is the case until we are on final approach into Stuttgart.
The pilot said good weather and 15 degrees. If by good weather he meant cloud cover at 500m with driving rain, he was right. But I think he was wrong, it looked horrible, and already it seemed to be getting dark.
Once on the ground, I queue to get through immigration then walk right through baggage reclaim and into the arrivals hall, where I have to find my new colleague, Daniel. Daniel has been with the company 2 months, and I have met him once, and buggered if I could think what he looked like. But me with my bright purple eyes and dashing good looks are memorable, and after a minute's panic, he came over and we walked to the car hire place to claim our steed for the duration. An Astra, with sat nav, we just had to find the parking garage; did I know they way? Well, I have been to so many airports I can't be sure, but once outside I remember.
We program the sat nav then set out into the evening traffic for the 20 minute blast up the motorway to Kirchheim where the hotel was. It was still raining, and I don't like driving in rain at the best of times, but on an autobahn it is scary, with cars hurtling past at 200kmh, whilst I am happy to just get there in one piece.
There is a parking space in the hotel forecourt, so we park up, unload our bags and check in. Sadly, I don't have the suite I had last time, but the room was wonderful, plenty of room to stretch out, a couple of armchairs, large TV.
We meet up for dinner in the restaurant of the hotel; we both have steak, because we can, and it is OK, not as good as mine, but as the company is paying, that is good.
Despite being in Germany, I can't find a channel with the Bayern game on, so have a channel on with a group of people talking about the game whilst they watched the game. I had the sound off, they seemed excited.
We meet again at the car at quarter past eight for the two minute drive to the factory, where we meet the senior management for some last minute alignment, then it is showtime.
Lunchtime is late, after one, and we are taken to a trucker's cafe nearby. But a truckers cafe unlike any you may get in Britain for sure. There is a restaurant, with choices from pepper steak to salads and local pasta. Like before I choose the lentil dish, which comes with two smoked sausages and a piece of smoked pork belly. And a huge portion of local pasta. It is a meal fit for two people, so I eat just the lentils and one of the sausages. It was then back to work for the last two hours or so, as loose ends were tied up, and the day was done.
When I was last there, with Anni just before Christmas in December 2014, we arrived in the dark, and by the time work had finished the next day it was dark again and we left for the airport well before dawn on the third day; so we saw nothing of the town. So, Dan and I drive to the centre of the town find a spot in a parking haus, called Krautmarkt, which I think is German for cabbage market. Sounds legit to me. From there we walk up the cobbled streets past ancient timber-framed houses, much bigger than their UK cousins, to the town hall. From there the main shopping street ran, so we wandered along, rushing past a Peruvian panpipe band that was making an awful racket.
We stop for a coffee and take a seat art the tables in the street, watching the world go by. As you do.
A little short walk further on and Dan needs the restroom, we look around and can find no public ones, so the only choice is to call in at a bierkeller, order more drinks so he can use the ones there. We take a table in the beer garden, bathed in the late afternoon sun and I manage to order a pils and einen dunklel bier (for mich). And all was right with the world. And we both agreed it was moments like that, as we supped great German beer, that made business trips worthwhile.
We amble back to the car, then drive the 5 minutes back to the hotel, for a bit of relaxing, or catching up on work mails before the main even of the evening; dinner with more beer. We go to the hotel restaurant again, as the food is good and wholesome, along with fine beer. And so eat, drink and be tired. 
It is nine fifteen by the time we finish, I have an early start in the morning, so will travel to the airport alone. I say bye to Daniel, then go to my room where I find the Wolfsburg v Real game on TV, and Wilfsburg were already 2-0 up. And thats the way it stayed until the bitter end, with Real getting angrier and angrier, and resorting to the most annoying cheating tactics to try to get an advantage. Embarrassing to say the least, and the right result for football.
