I woke at about 03:30 on the morning of 21st October.  I'd intended to wake a little later, at about 04:15, but the rustling of trees outside in unusually turbulent weather and my unconscious anticipation conspired to make my alarm clock redundant that morning.  I lay in bed until 04:15 anyway, conserving my energy for the rest of the long day ahead.

I rose, bathed and climbed into the clothes I'd already set aside the previous night to make the act of dressing as quick and effortless as possible.  At 04:50, I opened my front door to start my 45 minute journey to Derby's railway station on foot.  I'd briefly considered ordering a taxi, but my experience is that they are unreliable at that time of the morning, and I just didn't need the additional element of uncertainty that day.  So I locked the door, zipped up my flying jacket, and turned to face the icy wind.  It was still a dark night of course, and a clear one, too.  I set off to walk in the direction of the constellation Orion, suspended brightly in the cold black sky above the horizon, and above Derby railway station, four miles away.

By the time I reached Derby's so-called city centre at 05:30, I'd started to realise that I was actually running slightly late, and there was a serious danger that I'd miss my train, due to leave at 05:40.  So I quickened my pace.  I ran for the final few hundred metres; it was 05:40 exactly when I reached the station, and as I rushed through the concourse and onto the nearest platform, I could see my train waiting to leave across the tracks opposite.  I gave serious consideration to running across the tracks for a moment, but instead I ran as fast as my legs would carry me into the subway and across, lungs bursting as I emerged onto platform two.  Thankfully, the train was still stationary.  I leaped through the nearest doorway, threw my jacket and backpack onto a table, then collapsed into a seat as the train pulled away.

My journey to Manchester Airport was uneventful.  I changed at Stoke, where I spent 25 minutes sitting comfortably in a quiet waiting room, and at Manchester Piccadilly, where I waited only two minutes for a train to the airport.  I very much enjoyed the view of the landscape from my window seat on the train.  I haven't been back to that part of the world very often since my time at Huddersfield University 25 years ago; the distinctive green hillsides dotted with mills, warehouses and chimneys looked very familiar in the grey morning gloom.

I arrived at the airport at about 8:10am, underwent the usual check in / x-ray / metal detector ritual, located a coffee shop, consumed a croissant and some coffee.  I briefly browsed the duty-free shops, then slouched quietly until departure time.

Lots of empty seats on the plane, and I had a row to myself.  As I observed some of my fellow passengers, some with distinctive Nordic features, rearranging their luggage in the overhead lockers and chatting in Finnish, it sank in for the first time that I was about to visit Scandinavia, something I've always wanted to do .. the purpose of my journey had tended to relegate the geographical significance of its destination very much into second place in my thoughts until that point.  I enjoyed a wonderful view of the Teesside coast looking out from the port side as we headed out over the North Sea, and the flight was comfortable and pleasant.

We arrived on time at Helsinki Vantaa Airport at 15:15 local time; passport control and customs were painless and quick.  I emerged a few minutes later and boarded a bus to the city centre.  My first glimpses of the centre of Helsinki as the bus wound its way through its picturesque city streets were very impressive; it seemed very European in aspect, reminiscent of Geneva and Paris with those distinctive colourful signs erected above the fronts of elegant buildings.  Twenty-five minutes later I arrived at the bus / railway station, where I'd arranged to meet the purpose of my visit, my adorable, Helsinki-resident new girlfriend, Sari.

As things transpired, we didn't meet until ten minutes or so after I arrived.  We'd expected each other to turn up in different parts of the (fairly large) station, but after a brief, initially slightly confusing phone call, we managed to track each other down - thank goodness for mobile phones.  After weeks of emails, phone calls, instant messages and anticipation following an all-too-brief first meeting in Manchester, I finally held Sari in my arms.

We walked to my hotel, a few minutes' walk away in the city centre.  I checked in, and we went to investigate my room.  It was extraordinarily small, with a tiny bed and only a cramped, combined toilet/shower in place of a bathroom, but it was comfortable enough.

The next three days passed very quickly; I have really too many happy memories to write about them all.


On Friday, we had breakfast together in a beautiful restaurant near the quay, then walked around the centre of Helsinki - which really was a revelation, such a beautiful place.  Every capital city can boast beautiful architecture in a few of its famous buildings, but in Helsinki, it dominates - nearly every building of substantial size is elegant and beautiful, many decorated in a distinctive shade of sandy-yellow paint, and the overall effect, with an abundance of open space and trees is really quite breathtaking.  Senaatintori (Senate Square) in particular is a remarkable, graceful place, steeped in history and tradition with strikingly elegant buildings, some resplendent in Helsinki's ubiquitous yellow paint, facing each other commandingly across the square.

I love to walk around foreign cities, appreciating the little unfamiliarities that underline a sense of being in a different country, and even away from the historic sites, strolling around Helsinki hand-in-hand with Sari in the Autumn sunshine felt like a dream.


On Saturday morning, I took a tram to Sari's apartment in an idyllic, leafy suburb called Munkkiniemi, a few miles from the city centre, and we walked from there to Seurasaari - an open-air museum set on a beautiful, wooded island, connected to the mainland by a wooden footbridge. A few dozen wooden buildings relocated from original sites around the provinces of Finland are arranged there in a replica of a country district, reflecting Finnish life in various levels of rural society between the 18th and 20th centuries.  After strolling through the fallen leaves for an hour or two, we made our way back to Sari's apartment, stopping for coffee en route, this time at a lovely, quiet little café right next to the sea.

It was the most wonderful, unforgettable, romantic weekend, and I said goodbye to Sari at the airport very reluctantly on Sunday afternoon.  The flight back to England was as comfortable as the outgoing flight, and I had acres of space to myself on the plane.  Although I was sad to be leaving, at the same time I felt happy, contented, fulfilled and complete, with a warm sense of anticipation for whatever the future might hold.  The Internet travel agency with whom I'd booked my tickets had evidently neglected to relay my request for vegetarian food, but a stunning aerial view of the Humber bridge through a break in the clouds as we crossed the English coast made up for that.

As my train left Manchester Airport on Sunday night, bound for Sheffield where I would catch another train to Derby an hour or two later, I dug my personal radio out of my backpack and tuned into BBC Radio Five Live, hoping to catch the remaining twenty minutes or so of Manchester United's Premiership clash with Arsenal at Old Trafford.  I listened intently to the commentary as United decisively defeated the North London side, bringing their record run of unbeaten Premiership games to a welcome end.  How much happiness can one weekend possibly hold?