Almost forty eight hours without the internet but I am surprisingly calm as I walked through the front door at exactly 11pm last night. There was no question that I was going to jump on the computer as soon as I could but I did not feel the same level of withdrawal symptoms as I have done in the past. Perhaps because I had so much to do in between all the travel, there was little time to even think of checking my e-mail. I return from my first trip to Spain with mixed thoughts. A wonderful trip but just too brief in the sense of the itinerary. Airport, taxi, hotel, conference and back again the following evening, after a long and tiring day. Nevertheless I had an absolutely wonderful time, particular as the colleagues I was with were such a great laugh. I suppose I must start, as all great stories start, at the beginning. I knew I needed an early night, but didn’t get into bed until around 11.30pm and it was just after midnight when I finally drifted off. I woke up, before my alarm, which for a sleepy head like me, just never happens. As usual, when my alarm did go off, I hit snooze on the mobile phone and drifted back to sleep. What felt like a moment later, my Mum to knock on the door and wake me up, it was gone 4am, I was already running late. I rushed to grab some breakfast and a small mug of tea. By the time I was ready, it was quarter to 5. My taxi would be here in less than half an hour and I still had the last few bits to stuff into my overnight bag. I opted to wear jeans, a decision which even as I left the house, I had second thoughts about. My taxi arrived on time, even though originally it was scheduled for 5.30am, but our PA was paranoid about me being late, so moved it forward by another fifteen minutes. The drive was pleasant making excellent time to Terminal Two at Heathrow. Even though I was tired, the early start a great shock to my system, I was excited. At 5.41am, one of my colleagues called me, just as I was walking through the double doors into the check in area. Talk about perfect timing. We waited for the rest of our team to arrive, and queued at check in, which was surprisingly packed for pre 6am on a Thursday morning. The auto check in computer did not work, or was just far too unfriendly to operate, so we had to queue up, I decided to put my bag in the hold, rather than carry it around. Even though it would have passed for hand luggage, it was uncomfortable to carry and another thing to think about. We then headed up to the departure lounge for some breakfast before boarding the flight, which was not due to fly out until 7.25am with Iberia Airlines. Breakfast for me was just a mug of tea, as was the case for most of my colleagues, plus a couple of slices of toast. Apart from one of course, whom insisted on a full English breakfast and extra strong coffee. A few minutes later, we headed down to the gates and waited in a long queue to be seated in the departure lounge. Once again it was shockingly business for two flights heading out to Spain and Greece respectively. While there were of course a large contingent of business travelers, there was also many early holiday makers and families with young children. I took the few minutes that we had spare to text Chris, he must have been on the way to work by now. The air crew called seat numbers from the back of the plane and half our party headed up to the desk, while myself and two of my colleagues waited back at the end of the queue, as our seats were the next to be called. We boarded the Airbus A321 which was packed. My seat was by the emergency exit, so with two seats in the row, with the air hostess seat facing the opposite direction to the right, blocking out any view of the outside world. Never mind. Could be worse. My aisle seat was comfortable and I just longed for the aeroplane to be airborne, so we could be on our way. The waiting, even for me, generally quite a patient person, can get irritating. I was sitting next to a guy aged around 19, who spoke fluent Spanish but had a British passport. I did not speak to him. As we lifted off, leaving the sunny skies of England, I closed my eyes to try and get some rest. I never really sleep on airplanes, I find it physically impossible. Instead I just get comfortable in my seat, close my eyes and just let my mind wonder to a blank. The journey was uneventful and we landed at 11.30am, European time. As we taxied on the runway, I was impressed by the airport terminal building, clearly visible as brand new against the desert like back drop. It was clearly hot outside, almost 40 degrees. Walking off the plane and into the terminal via a glass tunnel, I looked outside and was amazed by the sheer size of the terminal. I set my watch an hour forward, as we went into the terminal building, there was a lack of clear signs. Getting in the queue with everyone else, it took us a good fifteen to twenty minutes to realise this was the queue for a connecting flight. Speaking to one of the airport staff, we were informed passport control was around the corner and we rushed over. That was close, we could have ended up on a flight to South America. After having our passports checked, we headed downstairs. It was there that things got slightly completed. To collect our baggage, we had to take the subway train down to the main terminal building, as we were at the satellite. The metro train arrived within a minute, and we boarded the fully air conditioned compartment. Similar to some of the stations on the Jubilee line with sliding doors on the platform as well as the train itself. We got off at the next stop, went upstairs to collect our luggage. Thankfully our three cases were the first to arrive at on the revolving carousel, we grabbed our bags and headed for the exit. There was the option of the hng forward to something. I had been waiting for this weekend to come around for a while, the final swan song before we get down to the business of the World Cup. As I mentioned in my last entry, I had avoided Hussein on MSN for a reason and I think to a degree it worked. I focused on work and the important tasks at hand and did not get carried away. Driving home, I made a detour to ASDA to pick up some last minute toiletries. Then as I walked into the house I rushed around to shower, get changed, pack the final few things in my bag, get some food and then wait for the phone call. He rang me at 7.25pm, to say he had left his house in Harrow and was on his way, would be about another 20 minutes. Perhaps for the first time in the week, I felt slightly excited by the prospect of the next two days. The sun was shining as I walked out of the house, down the drive to the Fabia, as he turned the filthy car around. I threw my holdall in the boot and small rucksack on the backseat. My thoughts were to hit the road but my friend and driver had other ideas. Where is the nearest car wash he asked. I need to clean this car, get some mints and a drink. I took over the roll of the satellite navigation and directed us to the Total garage down in Sands. While there was a jet wash about half a mile away, time constraints met it was far too time consuming. We picked up the items and then headed into the car wash, after a silver Mercedes pulled out the other side. Coming to a stationary position, Hussein put on the most appropriate song. I laughed, then grabbed my camera to capture the moment (as would be the case for the next 48 odd hours). Just a shame his music knowledge is not as good as his car knowledge.

Pulling out of the car wash, with a semi clean car. It was by no means perfect but it would ‘do’ for the 200 odd mile journey north west into the Norfolk countryside. All the toys in the Fabia. I have already mentioned the Empeg Mark II A but we also have a Treo 650 with Tom Tom Navigator 5 with a Bluetooth connection to a Holux 236 GPS receiver. With the voice of Jane, our vocal guide for the weekend. We entered the main road and as the sun set in the distance headed for the M40 motorway. Hussein showed what the VW quality build Skoda could do. Quite nippy for a 1.9 diesel. Just a shame about the badge. The journey was care free, we made great progress. At the petrol station, we had noted the time before we left. 8.04pm. The Tom Tom estimated we would reach the hotel by the North Sea, by 11.11pm, three hours and seven minutes to go. Hussein thought he could beat the computer, but I knew it was a realistic ETA purely because of the country roads, once you come off the motorway. The scene was magnificent, with the red sky in the distance, us facing a uphill struggle chasing the sun. I took several pictures before night fall, of the fantastic landscape.

The audio that kept us going was rather strange to begin with. Hussein boasts an impressive if somewhat mixed music collection. First he chose the Roots (who have famous song Guns Till Dawn) that you would instantly recognise if you heard it). Then, I grabbed the remote but only played one track on my play list. Great. Then my friend recommended we just switched to his ‘singles’ group and play everything there. Most of the songs would be to both our diverse tastes. That was an understatement. He pulled white rabbit, after white rabbit out of the bag. Classics from the early 1990s, such as Luniz – I Got Five On It, Dee-lite – Groove Is In The Heart, Skeelo – I Wish. Then with minutes to (just after 11pm) with us within a mile of the hotel, on came the 1976 AOR classic, “Hotel California“. Perfect, you could not write a book to script this journey. Before hand I had joked with my friend that I did not want to hear the same song all weekend, pure random (as the mode is called by the car mp3 player). In total there were 318 songs in the singles group but we had only listened to 31 by the time we pulled up in the hotel. We had probably listened to much less as we had skipped the odd track were not in the mood for. It was late on a Friday night and after a long week in the office and shop respectively we were not in the mood for a rave. We pulled up at the hotel around 11.15pm, the last group to arrive. We were quickly shown to room 7 by Arran. Standard affair, nothing fancy to write home about. The country style hotel meant each of the rooms were outside the main building in their own quadrant. A bonus was a near Phillips DVD player, tea, a big empty fridge and standard en suite facilities. Mr. J kept his job with him, finding all the faults from all the parts in the room. He shows his professional side by naming components by their part code. There was a group of DOC owners out on the porch drinking, rhaps my second favourite genre after superhero action. Fearless gives the impression, by the title of mindless violence, but there is much more substance to the story, a long emotional tale with passion, defeat, regret, remorse and change. Not the normal collection of adjectives you would use to describe such a movie, but if you go and see it you will be impressed. I was glad on the directions discussion to use a flash back right at the beginning as a way of leading the narrative. The violence was graphic but it had a purpose. Jet Li does an amazing job in the lead role, giving the perfect balance between great athletic fight scenes and not getting too bogged down with the various elements of the story. All martial arts fans should go and see this movie, just a shame it had such a limited theatrical release here in the UK. Plus I am sure I will get the DVD come Christmas to watch the full unedited version. It was condensed down to make it more suited for a Western cinema audience. That reminds me, I got my Dad Kung Fu Hustle for Father’s Day a few weeks back, need to make some time this weekend to watch it. Meanwhile Mr. K needs to watch all the major martial arts movies from the past six years (which of course I have on DVD). Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Hero and The House of Flying Daggers. The later two I have seen at the cinema with Nav, with reviews in September and December 2004, respectively. Pav is not a football fan, never has been. Although the text above contradicts this statement, he has never had any interest in football over the seven years or so I have known him. However, suddenly with this World Cup, he he has got the bug and has been enjoying numerous international matches, although mainly focused on England. He has been really enjoying it and as we drove back to his house, he asked about the next round. Portugal await. Off to Madrid with work on Wednesday, so I will not have a chance to update until Friday evening, in my usual weekly blogging spot. Hopefully I will have tales to tell from my trip and more importantly photographs.