quite a normal day really

...not quite sure where some of it went, though.

steaming

We headed back to the Smoke on Sunday afternoon.

I was still in the borrowed silver car but had acquired two extra passengers.

We'd left the sporty convertible at the farm and it was to be picked up again on Tuesday and driven to Cornwall. I needed to be back at work on Monday and then on to a rendezvous in an Italian restaurant for Monday evening.

So from a chilled out weekend, we were all soon back on our individual mini-agendas for the rest of the week.

But only after I'd taken my hostages to look at a steam railway on the way back.

Joey the Lips

We'd rocked the evening away yesterday, to a mix of jazz and funk as well as some improbable "anarchy in the UK" style folk-punk on a combination of electric mandolins and double bass.

I'd been sipping rather than guzzling which meant I could survive with little more than aching feet. Others were less fortunate and needed to lie down on the nearest grass.

By the time we'd all cleared our heads on Sunday, it was nearly time for lunch, so we ambled to the shoreline, which I described as a perfect landing spot for space cruisers. Others were bemused by this, but I'd just seen an old steam locomotive running along the opposite side of the river estuary and remarked that the landscape changes with different features of modernity. No-one thinks a row of moored pleasure cruisers and yachts is unusual nowadays, so why not have a few space craft parked there in a hundred years time?

The lunch was delicious.

ness

"Cock a doodle doo" started the day.

I was in time to see the amusing antics of the chickens leaving their hen-houses in the morning. It's like they all queue up behind the door to run out in a chaotic scramble of sizes and shapes. Then, after they shake themselves off, they start their earnest pecking around the yard.

Some of us were down by the sea, though, chicken-less, but with ships to spy and three cornered hats to wear. We'd be moving soon enough to a field for the day, but right now it was working out whether we'd need waterproofs or sunscreen.

in which we flee to the country

We were down on the farm for Friday night.

I held one of the well-behaved chickens to see whether we saw eye-to-eye. It was fine until they sighted some wet bread and broke into a frenzy of crust grabbing.

Later our increasing gang took ourselves off to an adjacent open air table to sip some local ale and chatter. It was still early evening and hectic London a few hours behind us took a moments to flee as we became adjusted to our rural surroundings.

loaner car heralds large bill

My car was whisked away for its "D +" Service a couple of days ago.

I could tell it would be expensive because the normal service is a very reasonably priced "A". I also had a couple of little extra things to get fixed, like the driver mirror motor which had stopped working (not that I use it much) and another warning message which had popped up.

"Ring Ring," went the phone later in the day as the friendly main dealer called me. "The other warning is because the complicated high tech computerised braking system control unit needs to be replaced and they cost £900".

Gulp.

"...But the good news is the car manufacturer will pay for it; no charge to you."

Good news.

"So I'm arranging for you to have a loan car because yours will be with us longer whilst we get the part/fit it etc".

Two hours later the delivery driver arrived with the loan car with its "new car" smell and six wiggly manual gears. End of day I drove it home, marvelling at the Thunderbirds style pop-up Sat-Nav and the way it pestered me to get my phone number for its bluetooth.

I'll admit to a few kangaroo moments with the gearbox. I'm used to manual shifts, but my normal car is an automatic, and the extra gear seemed somehow one shift too many, along with a little graphic on the speedo which kept suggesting to me when I should change up to a higher gear.

I realised again that I'm really one of the people that likes a car to 'drive me' rather than having to drive the car.

Its probably not very "Top Gear" but I'll be looking forward to getting my car back...Once fixed, I'm pretty sure it will again drive better than the loaner. Not bad for 120,000 miles on the clock.

trading statues

Trading statues today as I headed back to London in time for some meetings this afternoon. After the return landmark strewn ride to Leonardo da Vinci airport, I found myself as the solitary business person in the midst of holiday makers and large parties of school children.

I'm usually good at zoning out at airports, but as I queued for the flight, I could't help notice the sheer decibels of mayhem around me.

Then a sequence from one of those Guy Ritchie films. Flight. iPhone movies. Iris eye scan. Meeting. Car. Traffic Jams. Meeting. Car. Home.

more of the sweet life

An eight o' clock start, but my first meeting was by phone, so I managed to grab a small room service breakfast whilst I was on the call.

Then to the main lobby, to meet others before the main session started. The main meeting was scheduled to run through to 7pm before we were to adjourn to a nearby restaurant at around 8pm.

We did pause for lunch and emerged blinking into the heat and sunlight of Roma, where we sat at a street-side cafe before restarting the session. To others we may have looked relaxed, but it was all still part of our shop-talk.

Suffice to say we finished the main session late, with enough time to return to the room, drop off miscellaneous papers and then head directly to a special rooftop restaurant in the nearby Via Vittorio Veneto. Elegantly prepared Sicilian specialities in the Roman street that featured the paparazzi of the Fellini film.

And the start of a night in Rome.

la dolce vita

"Would you like the air-conditioning switched on?" asked the taxi driver in Italian.

I thought I'd heard a 'whoosh' sound as the car door had opened and the pent up heat hit me like a stun grenade. It was 33C outside but I think the driver was storing heat for the winter.

"Prego!" I uttered, realising I wouldn't have enough Italian to last me into the centre of Roma.

The driver floored it and entered the traffic system at Formula 1 speeds. I think he was trying for a personal best as he swept me along the Autostrada, then joggling through roundabouts, skittering across cobblestones and eventually past famous landmarks. The Coliseum, The Roman Forum, The Trevi Fountain, Piazza Repubblica and eventually to a posh hotel.

Probably a world record for sight-seeing during a taxi ride, and I've little idea how everything I glimpsed linked together. I realise that although I've been to Rome several times, I only have an episodic knowledge of it rather than any real sense of the geography.

Then to a florid room with its own rather excessive chandelier but I was more preoccupied to fire up the wifi and deal with the charts and diagrams I needed for tomorrow's meeting.

twinkle

Twinkling lights of London as we flew around in circles through dusk and into dark, before arriving, eventually, back at Terminal 1.

Its surprising, with reflection, how little I use T1 now, compared with even a couple of years ago, when it was the main BA terminal.

There's been plenty of subtle changes, with the new airside shops emphasis moved to the circular area and the old shops no longer quite such the central hub.

There was a brief period when all of it was fully operational and the whole terminal looked busy and purposeful, but now there seem to be a few dead ends blocked off with white painted boarding.

Of course that's nothing compared with the complete disappearance of T2, and the arrival of heavy digging machinery. No wonder we walked down the steps from a far corner of Heathrow near to Terminal 3 and had to be bussed back to the main area.

Today its further London time, before more travelling, although I must admit yesterday evening I was counting the days in the week and was slightly surprised it was still only Tuesday.

bin schon gelandet

Well, I found the hotel easily enough.

I used a form of advanced commuting that wouldn't have been available a few years ago. I googled the hotel and saw it was less than a kilometer from the airport terminal.

Then I switched to satellite mode and zoomed in to find the footpaths and access routes around the airport. Sure enough, a route from the middle terminal through a car park, across a road and I'd be at the main entrance of the hotel.

Much easier than waiting around for a shuttle bus.
Much better than having an argument with a taxi driver about a measly EUR3 fare.

So I walked and it took about 6 minutes. I was in the hotel at around the time the plane was officially due to land.

A good result.

Whitehall

Sitting here waiting for the coffee to take effect.

Today's London has lost the blast of sunshine colour and become more muted again. Damp drizzly early pavements but not enough rain to quench the yellow deserts of London's Parks.

I'm about to go into a couple of meetings and then later I head for Germany. I'll be staying at one of those hotels that has 'Airport' in its title, but could be anything from 'on site' (I doubt it) to ten kilometres away.

I know that the taxi drivers won't like it though, because the fare will be less than a trip into the city.