Friday 18th November 2016

I wake up at home. Which was nice.

It does mean that will have to make my own breakfast, or at least Jools makes the first coffee. Which is also nice.

There are cats out an about, whilst outside birds wait for me to put some food out for them. And I suppose the cats are too, so they can chase said birds. It was a fine day, at least outside, but I had to spend most of it working at the dining room table, fighting fires. At none the boys arrived to do more in the garden which was mainly involving laying paving stones, but once that was done, the cabin, or retreat as Jools has told me it is called, can be put up. They did demand tea before they started.

Of course.

The day pans out as expected; meetings, mails, phone calls. And repeat in random order until Denmark finished for the day at about two in the afternoon. My head was fried, and so I did too. I make no excuses, but I had had enough. Enough of it all.

A cuppa and listening to the radio whilst making yet more tea and coffee for the guys out back. In fact, the paving is half finished, and is looking really good, but will look better when it is complete. And the fountain up and beds planted and all that stuff.

Jools comes home at three, just as the light was fading and the boys were wrapping up for the day. They had got soaked twice by downpours during the day, and apparently had also had enough. Which is only right.

Jools goes to the chippy for battered sausage and chips, I butter some bread and make tea.

We play cribbage whilst listening to the radio, the evening fades out to half an hour of Mastermind, specialist subjects included Eastenders and the Battle of Trafalgar. Thinking i could have a bash at it one day. Maybe.

Thursday 17th November 2016

We are some three weeks into the offshore phase of the project, and thanks to a number of factors, things are going slowly. Which is why late on Wednesday I decided that I would leave for home a day early. I tell the hotel, and then think about three days in a row being at home. Lovely.

So after a shower, I pack and and going down to check out at seven, and after talking about football with the night porter for a few minutes, then up to the breakfast room to find the hotel had sprung a leak. A few leans in fact, as water poured onto the serving tables. Staff ran around trying to make things work enough so us early enable us to get to work. As I left the hotel manager had arrived, and stood at the entrance to the room, hands on hips staring at the water pouting through the ceiling.

I take the car out of the garage and manage to get it down the ramp without having to reverse in fear of of hitting the walls.

And then out onto the empty streets, out past the other hotel I used to stay at, over the two intersections which have no give way signs, as you have to give way to the traffic from the right. This is OK until you get near to the office where there is a 5-way junction. I mean, maybe the Belgians have been born to understand this, but it seems madness to me, and mostly a case of who dares goes first or something like that.

And so another day at the office begins, but unlike normal days I have to squeeze the day into 5 hours. As you do. Or I do when I have to travel back.

And at half twelve I can leave, throw my stuff in the car and set the controls for due south.

Heavy rain had been forecast, but although there was low cloud, and felt like November. Which is is, really. And with the holiday season over, traffic was light indeed, and driving a pleasure, as well as being work too.

Through Belgium, over the border through Dunkirk and to Calais. All in about an hour.

I check in, go for lunch in the lounge, by which time we can board and are the first cars on the train, driving the fll length of it to sit next to the door which will open to let us out. I have a copy of the Financial Times to read, just the headlines and comment pieces, written by people using facts. Just like newspapers used to do.

Anyway, the doors close and after the safety announcement we pull away, and in half an hour we arrive back in Blighty with the familiar sights of Castle Hill out of the window on my right.

A quick blast up the A 20 to Aycliffe and along Townwall Street where there roadworks seem nearly to be done, but again taking so long to do. Up Jubilee Way at warp factor 5, overtaking a Porsche on the left, right at the Duke of Yorks and to home. The car splashes through deep puddles showing that there had been some recent heavy rain, but I had seen none of it, and now at the end of the day, the light was wonderful, all golden on what was left of the trees still with leaves.

Back home and the boys had finished for the day, but they had done some good work, and maybe this time next week it will be finished. Or not.

The cats were pleased to see me, as they thought it dinner time, so I gave in and fed them.

At half five I took the car back to the docks to hand back, and when I came out Jools was waiting, perfect timing. At least we didn't have to go out any more that night.

Darkness had already fallen, so once home I made dinner; pasta cabarnara with extra bacon, freshly fried.

And that was the day; we were both tired, watch The Sky at Night trying to stay awake as we learned about Mars, then listened to Autobahn again before deciding that the day was run and we should go to be. So we did.

Brexit and the walls of reality

Since I last wrote, one would be forgiven for thinking we had traveled even further into Wonderland with the difference between what the Government and the Brexitteers and the Fleet Street press are saying, and what is really happening.

First up is the fact that during the run up to the referendum that Britain would save the country sending Brussels £350m a week which we could spend on the NHS. Rings any bells? Anyway, at the time anyone who pointed out that this was wrong was either accused of peddling "project fear" or having vested interests. The reality turns out that by 2020, Britain could be dealing with losing £410m a week in lost tax revenues, and on top of that might have to pay more to the EU to have less access than we have now. But at least we would be taking back control. And on top of that, there is no guarantee that things would get better after that, it could even get worse.

So much for the sunlit uplands that we had been promised post-Brexit.

And then our Foreign Secretary was bitch slapped down after a meeting with his Italian counterpart when Boris used the you'll sell less Prosecco if tariff barriers were put up. But there would still be 27 countries in the EU we could still sell it to Boris was told.

And today it was announced Britain is going to be liable for many more payments even if Britain were to leave, but has already agreed to fund certain projects, and the EU would force Britain to pay, not unreasonably. The FT is suggesting this be as much as £60m.

Any hoped Germany will make a Brexit (hard or soft) easy have been dashed in an interview also in the FT today.

The Italian Government has described Britain's Brexit policy as chaotic. And lets be honest, Italian Governments know about chaos. And bunga bunga parties.

And finally, the Dutch Finance Minister has described Boris' position as pr-cake and pro-eating cake as being impossible.

And yet the Brexit fan club at the Express and Torygraph spin the positive stories. It comes as a surprise to find I now read the Financial Times as this is now the only place that is reporting what are known as facts.

Wednesday 16th November 2016

I woke when the alarm went off at half six with whatever was outside trying to get in. Or more accurately, what was outside trying to get what was in the room, outside. If that makes sense. Thing is, during an offshore project, you get better weather forecasts that most people, and I pay attention, so I knew there was wind coming, but on the ninth floor facing the sea meant the sliding door felt the full force of the, er, force nine wind.

And it was cold. I get up, close the door and get back in bed, cowering under the duvet. But Wednesday was still there.

And did I mention it was raining? It was hoofing it down, like the end of the world. So, the neon lights of the closed bars shone through the downpour as I ate breakfast sharing the breakfast room with the other early risers.

I get the car out of the garage and drive carefully to the office, taking my time, especially round the roundabouts. I arrive safely, but then get wet running from the car to the office door.

I settle down to work, and the business of the day means I fail to notice when the rain stops and the clouds clear and the sun came out. Too early to see the super moon of the previous day, needless to say, but the light outside was fabulous.

At half five, I finish for the day and try to rush home as the sunset looked like it could be sensational. I am stuck at every set of lights, slow moving cars and tractors, but get up just as the sun dipped below the horizon, so was treated to nature's fireworks as the sky and clouds turned red.

I took shots.

After a shower, I go downstairs for a strong beer and to wait for my colleagues to assemble before we go into the burger place next door. Whether we eat together or individually, the company would pay the same, so may as well go on one credit card bill, as longs as its not mine too often.

The food is good, and the beer great, we eat, we drink and we laugh, which is what days like these are about.

Another round of drinks is tempting, but I am shattered, and I need sleep, so decline and go back to my room to listen to some music and get an early night.

Sensible at last.

Tuesday 15th November 2016

Halfway through another month, and thoughts turn to what I have achieved this year. So much I have, and we have, done. Phew, and with seven weeks or so to go, still much to cram in.

I am awoken by the sounds of seagulls circling over the hotel, I'm pretty sure this isn't a sign. Or a bad one anyways. I have slept in until seven, as I am due to meet Manu at half eight for the drive to Leuven, so think I have time.

I am down for breakfast at half past, and soon I am joined by Manu who tells me we have to leave soonest due to "IT problems".

So the shower I was going to have was scrapped, I go back to my room and clean my teeth, nice and clean, and am down again in time to meet manu for the drive to the office so he can sort his IT out and raise a report.

His st nave says its 90 minutes to Leuven. No 2 hours. No, 1 hour 45. No, 90 minutes again. We were expec ting travel problems. Especially with mist making driving tricky, but Manu seems confident enough, I suspect he is driving with spider senses as we motor up the A10 to the main road east to Brussels and Leuven.

There are jams, but there are long clear stretches, so we make mostly good time, even if I have my eyes closed for some of the journey. A friend once said he always kept his eyes open when being driven as he wanted to see how he was going to die. I'm not so sure, and anyway, close shaves are too stressful. Oh look, cows. Farm. Train. More cows.

We arrive at the office by half ten, and join the meeting. Wish us luck.

No luck needed, as we are the four musketeers, defeating evil with a slash of our sabres of truth. Huzah!

We retire to The Consulat and order mid range Belgian beers, but my eye had already caught sight of the strong Christmas beer at 12%. I means that is basically wine with malt. But I do have one, and it is good, if powerful.

Our boss treats us to burgers again: I have a "For the Love of Fig" burger. Me neither. Anyway, it is fine and we wash it down with a Coke.

That leaves me with 40 minutes to walk through the bright streets of the town, with neon lights reflecting off the wet cobblestones of the old town, to the station where I buy a 1st class ticket to Oostende, then walk over to Spoor Tvey for it to arrive.

Thankfully there are lots of empty seats in first, so I take a seat facing forward then try to keep my eyes open. Easy at first as the train rattles its way through Brussels Nord, crossing over many tracks with wheels and bogies below creaking and screaming. Then through the tunnel under the centre, through Centraal station to Midi, then out into the Belgian countryside, mostly dark, so I stare at my reflection until my eyes droop and my mind wanders.

Through Gent and Brugge, trundling into Oostende at half eight, leaving me with a damp walk through the desrted streets of the town, through now-empty town squares and back to the hotel, just in time to find the British channel ITV on the TV so I can watch the England v Spain game.

England were leading 2-0 going nto the last 5 minutes, and playing well, and as a team too. But fatigue took its toll and Spain get two late goals to make it 2-2, but reason to be hopeful, maybe.

Monday 14th November 2016

Is it back to work already? Really?

I hide under the covers after the alarm had gone off, blaring out about the latest from the US on Trump. Bah, Life was better when I was away and listened to no news.

I have to face the day, and anyway, a day featuring a drive over the France and Belgium and will end up with a slap up fest at Mme Miggins Muscle emporium (it is in Belgium), Anyway, lets get it on.

Jools has made coffee, and is making her lunch, the cats fed and they have gone out already to hunt or do the stuff that cats do when they're not sleeping or washing. I have another cvoffee once Jools has left, pack, then book my passage through the tunnel, and can leave at quarter to nine. Not sure where half the morning went, but hey ho.

There are the usual bunch of idiots on the road, no indicators used and driving slowly. Get out of my way, I'm on Wind Business! Through Dover, up the A20 to Folkestone and to the terminal, check in, go to the lounge, collect a packed breakfast and drive onto the train, where we are put onto the carriages usually used for coaches, so there is nothing by empty space above us where the upper deck should be.

Off we go, I read half of of WSC as we pass beneath the sea and we emerge on the other side with France looking pretty much as Kent did half an hour before.

The train stops, doors opened and we drive off, straight onto the motorway and I head north, not stopping for shopping this time so once through Calais, traffic is light and I can put my foot down, driving through Flanders in a light mist making for a pleasant way of spending the morning.

I arrive at the office at half twelve, and have the horrible task of opening Outlook to sort through the avalanche of mails i had received in the previous week.

The afternoon passes, darkness falls and we carry on working until six comes around. I have to leave to check in to the hotel, and arrange to meet my team outside the hotel so we can go for dinner. And for a change I have a room at the front of the hotel, overlooking the beach with a good balcony. A shame then that it is November and so cool. However, I am also on the top floor, which makes the view even better, looking down on the casino next door.

At seven we go door dinner, but find the burger place closed, so we walk to Den Artiest for another round of BBQ. Cheese croquetes followed by tenderloin and frites with mayo. And sweet Belgian beer. It'd be rude not to.

It is a good evening again, the food and company good.

Outside it is raining again, so we get damp walking back along the street of bars, which claims tobe Montmartre, but looks nothing like it, judging by the density of kebab shops.

I listen to some radio, then crash out, telling myself I deserve a lay in in the morning.

Sunday 14th November 2016

Awake at half five, and with two hours to wait for breakfast, I think in that time I could get dressed, pack and after check out be at the Tunnel in that time.

Yes, that sounds like a good idea.

I am loading the car at just gone six, looking up there is no light in the sky, seems and feels like the middle of the night.

I drive out of the car park, through Oulton Broad towards Kessingland, passing just one other car on the way. And then out in the country, driving at 60mph when I could down the twisty road south to Ipswich. There was little traffic about, so I made good time, arriving at the A14 junction in 45 minutes, and after grossing the Orwell Bridge, back on the A12 again in under an hour.

Traffic was light, the radio was on, and dawn crept over the land, cloudy, then clearing, then getting cloudy again.

I am indeed at the tunnel by half seven, meaning that home is just over an hour away. Over the bridge then turning down the A2, keeping the average speed at the speed limit.I just want to get home, so I was only thinking of getting home as quick as possible.

I pull up outside Chez Jelltex at twenty to nine, not a bad run at all. Jools is already out in the garden, painting the back wall of the garden prior to the cabin being put up. The guys had prepared the second area prior to the patio stones were being laid. Other than that, thanks to the rain, the garden is beginning to look like the Somme, but it will recover, and with most of the hard landscaping now done, we can see the end of the job.

We have coffee, talk about what we had done these past few days, and then it was time to strap the workboots on as there was a hedge to lay. Yes, a hedge.

When the tree stump was taken out, it left an eight feet gap on the hedge, so we have to replace that with some hedging. We have to dig a trench just one foot deep and wide, eight feet long, and it seems that was almost beyond us, but we laboured on, and in an hour we had the gap filled, although the plants/shrubs need to grow some.

Phew, manual labour.

And that was it for the day, even with the sun coming out and making a golden afternoon, we sit around doing our hobbies; me editing and Jools crocheting. We are joined by the cats who seems happy enough to have us about.

The afternoon passed, the sun set and the warmth of the day faded so we put the heating on.

Another week had gone by, a week off for me, gone in the blink of an eye. And tomorrow it is back to reality with the commute to Belgium.