Ben and Laura in Brussels

We've Moved!!!

2010-03-03T22:20:00.003+01:00

'Why stay in the same place when you can move elsewhere?' - That's my motto. As such, it should come as no surprise that we've moved our blog to Wordpress.

Please come and visit our new blog at:

http://benandlaurainbrussels.wordpress.com/

You'll still be able to read all of our old posts here, but since they're on the new site too you might as well read them there, where you can enjoy shiny new posts too!

Don't forget to update your links and bookmarks.

Things which have Enraged me Tonight

2010-02-28T21:08:00.003+01:00

1. The rubbish internet connection in Belgium. I do not pay €35 a month to have my internet crash every hour.

2. Blogger's insistence that I must speak Dutch while logging on. Dear Blogger, I don't even know how to say 'I don't speak Dutch' in Dutch - that is how little Nederlands I spreek! Go to hell! Yours Sincerely, Laura

3. The completely random occassions when the buttons on Blogger doesn't work when using Google Chrome. Why? Isn't Blogger part of Google? I give in and use Internet Explorer but then, oh yippee - back to complaint number two!

I was in such a good mood before I sat down at the computer... Would anyone else like to share their woes?

To Do Lists, New Shoes and Owls

2010-02-19T23:11:00.001+01:00

Aside from ten minutes spent wandering around in a turban and my beautiful new shoes this morning, this not procrastinating lark is going well.

I got them with my credit card loyalty points – there’s nothing quite like free shoes. Mmmm… shoes…

So, procrastination…

The to do list is 57 items long and includes such delights as ‘pay ACCA subscription’, ‘get boiler serviced’ and optimistically, considering I still can’t find the blank form, ‘send off work experience form’. I tried to do the former today but apparently, until the exam results are out, you can’t do anything on the website. Great, so I can’t use the site for about half the bloody year then? Wankers.

I’ve managed a session of Yogalates: Firm, Fit and Flexible but haven’t done any more due to a ~~broken~~ sore shoulder. I was a little disillusioned after the initial promise of quick results changed to twelve weeks – I was thinking more like, I don’t know, two …sessions??

This morning I put on my most motivating t-shirt in a bid to combat the early afternoon slump:

What’s not motivating about hundreds of green owls staring at you accusingly with their beady little eyes? It worked rather nicely! I managed to get some solid work done on my next two writing assignments and a quarter of an hours study for my last tax exam.

Alright, the tax study wasn’t very impressive, but it’s terribly boring. Even the owls can’t help with that…

Belgians of the Week - 3

2010-02-18T19:42:00.001+01:00

On our road there’s a clothes shop who’s most notable features are the R&B being pumped out of the speakers and the red carpet they’ve laid across the pavement.

On his walk home tonight Ben spotted some guys in their fifties, one standing on the carpet, singing along and conducting to an invisible orchestra and the other watching his friend while clutching a half drunk bottle of rosé.

Maybe there should be a sub-category for ‘Belgian Drunks of the Week’ – the ordinary Belgians don’t stand a chance at the moment!

I Was Going To Do This Blog Post Tomorrow…

2010-02-16T22:45:00.001+01:00

I’m not normally one to give things up for Lent. Ben gets quite into it, usually living on a diet of which a Carthusian monk would approve. This year he’s decided to give up chocolate and fizzy drinks. He had a farewell can of 7-up and bar of his favourite banana chocolate thing earlier this evening as I looked on with a tear in my eye.

I’ve decided to get involved too; mostly because it’ll give me something to do. I have chosen to give up procrastination. I am going to become organised and tidy and on top of things. I’ve considered doing it in the past but the time has never felt right.

It kills me that I’m such a disorganised person at heart; I want to be one of those people who are always prepared and who know where everything is. The person I want to be also has a really nice wardrobe; I’m not sure if that is related, but I would like some new shoes.

Here’s an example of how rubbish I am. I left my last proper job nearly a year ago. About nine months ago I asked my manager if he would sign off my work experience form for my accounts qualification. Six months ago I asked Ben to print off the form so I could fill it in. Today I decided to fill it in but couldn’t find it in the chaos of our office. Gah!!

Tomorrow I’ve asked Ben to make me get up before 9am so I can make a good start on this new life. I’m going to do some Yogalates (new Laura is much more bendy and does not tire when climbing the stairs) and then make an enormous to do list. Obviously, I will start the list with ‘Make to do list’ in time honoured fashion. I WILL NOT waste time colour coordinating it though – that is something the old Laura would have done.

I’m fairly sure I posted something along these lines on New Years Day. Since then I’ve been consistently doing my own head in and not achieving anything. I think the trick is that this time I’m focusing on the source problem rather than the specific goals I want to reach. I hope so, anyway.

While writing this I’ve been distracted by several cups of tea, determining the precise number of days in Lent, other peoples blogs, my own blog and a baby manatee named Herbert. It doesn’t bode well.

A Strange Valentines Gift

2010-02-14T19:03:00.001+01:00

Our little Carrefour got into the Valentines spirit by giving us a free heart shaped ice cube tray to go with our eight pack of Maes. The hearts are massive though so we’re considering making little strawberry jellies instead.

More confusingly, considering that it’s halfway through February and on our thrice weekly visits over the past year we have never had children with us, they also gave us a Gogo’s 2010 calendar. Despite investigating, I remain a little hazy about what these actually are… Jacks, I think.

The above picture is taken from the welcome page of the Carrefour Gogos website. They seem to have decided to represent the Walloons with an onion headed gogo.

English Shelf!!!

2010-02-13T23:11:00.001+01:00

Today I took my camera out and was planning to take some nice photos of doors or windows or other Art Nouveau features. It was really, really cold though and I didn’t want to take my gloves off. Instead, I took some pictures of the English shelf at Carrefour.

Heartbreakingly, I’ve only just noticed the Curly Wurlys. I did get some Crunchies though. Miam!

Mmmm… look at all those baked beans! I really wanted to tell someone that the Oreos and Betty Crocker cake mixes should have been on the US shelf (they have a separate one!).

There’s another section but the Belgians were looking at me strangely so I stopped taking pictures – if a Belgian thinks you’re strange you should be worried.

The selection of food in Belgium is good and we enjoy trying the different things available here. I don’t feel the need to search for English versions of things usually (except tea bags) but it’s nice to stock up on comfort food when you can. Speculoos just don’t cut it when you fancy a Ginger Nut.

One thing I will never understand about Belgians (actually a lot of Europeans, I think) is the love of UHT milk. The hunt for a bottle of fresh milk can be quite time consuming, I’ve known all three of the Carrefour Locals near us to run out at once. One of my friends had the following conversation with her Belgian boyfriend when she moved here:

- Can we get some fresh milk?

- Fresh milk?? You can’t buy fresh milk in Belgium – it’s illegal.

- What??? Why?

- Oh, you know… the bacteria…

Snowballing…

2010-02-13T22:07:00.001+01:00

Just before our trip a friend told me about a skiing trip she’d been on where someone fell on the steps of the coach from the airport and broke their leg. As we’ve discussed previously, I’m incredibly clumsy. I was not filled with confidence.

It went much better than either of us had expected. I think this had a lot to do with Ben being my teacher; he’s much more patient than your average angry French skiing instructor. I particularly liked it when he picked me up after my worst crash and skied backwards in front of me the rest of the way. I was surprised that falling over generally didn’t hurt that much, although you do end up with an unpleasantly wet back (now I see why people wear those awful all in one suits).

My main concerns (thankfully unrealised) were that I would either fall over and continue rolling down the hill like some kind of human snowball, or I would get stuck on a chair lift for days on end.

In the end I picked it up within three days and was happily whizzing down the easiest blue slope (not the very easiest slope of all) by day four. I even managed to do a little jump at one point!! It wasn’t deliberate, but I didn’t fall over afterwards – hurrah!! Ben just looked incredibly cool all the time – he’s my ski-tar hero*.

I’d been warned about the children who would be so much better than me; it was ok though as they were incredibly cute – like little cuddly teddy bears! The fact that the ski school bibs they wore said ‘ourson’ helped. We caught a chair lift with one and he had a really sweet French conversation with Ben about why he didn’t have poles and how old they each were – because they don’t use them when learning and 4 1/2 and 29 (comme the kids maman), if you’re interested.

One night we went for a moonlit skidoo ride which was super-cool. We nearly toppled the thing at one point and it was bloody cold but it was beautiful, the stars were so clear and I saw my first ever shooting star. I had imagined going on a dog sled but this didn’t seem to be on offer; it was probably a good thing as I may have smuggled a husky back to Belgium with us.

I really, really want to go back now… Maybe I can have an ourson bib next time? And a puppy…

* Strange Clash reference for my dad…

Belgians of the Week - 2

2010-02-08T21:55:00.001+01:00

We saw a brilliant drunk at the weekend. He was hanging round outside Pull and Bear on Avenue Louise, clutching his can of lager (probably Jupiler) commenting on passers-by. We escaped without comment, but only because he’d outdone himself with the guy in front.

‘Oh look, he’s got a big moustache and everything! It’s nice…’

It was an enormous handlebar moustache. Nice, if that’s your thing.

Belgian drunks: surprisingly complimentary.

A Complete Lack of Coordination

2010-02-05T23:04:00.001+01:00

I’d planned to tell you more about the skiing trip… apart from the gigantic turd of a hotel and my whimsical thoughts on the subject of snow and mountains and stuff. This was before life got in the way and I went out with wet hair and got ill (my mum resisted the temptation to say ‘I told you so’). Then, once the illness was on it’s way out I became madly clumsy - even more so than usual. A rundown:

1. Broke the office chair (no idea how).

2. Broke the microwave. On closer inspection it turned out that I’d just blown the fuse in the adaptor… This might be a sign that we should change our plugs to Euro ones.

3. Hit my head on the ceiling while investigating the microwave. Cannot get used to triangular flat.

4. Punched the ceiling while in a rage over the head hitting incident.

5. Tried to get something out of the oven with a bare hand. Not entirely sure why as had an oven mitt on the other hand. Now have a blistered finger.

6. Dropped a tray loaded with plates and pizza crusts. Smashed a plate, got tomato sauce on floor and TV stand.

Tomorrow we’re having a house meeting with all our neighbours. What are the chances I can get through that without spilling something on someone else's carpet?

You can expect the final instalment of the skiing trip sometime in the next week. Then I promise to shut up about the bloody mountains.

Miss Laura’s Feeling for Snow

2010-02-02T15:58:00.001+01:00

I hadn’t imagined there could be a place as beautiful as the mountains were. Pictures don’t do them justice. Sitting on my bed in the hotel room I could see the glistening peaks across the valley, the snow whiter than I had thought possible.

I could see people gliding down the pistes which littered the mountainsides, twisting suddenly from one side to the other; so small and numerous they looked like ants on a Dame Blanche. They reminded me of the people in paintings by LS Lowrie; real but then again, not quite.

Below the peaks, below the skiing ants and below me I could see clouds. What an amazing feeling to be above the clouds while still on solid earth. The people below me had a cloudy, overcast day; I had beautiful sunshine which reflected on the snow to create a wonderful feeling of heaven on earth.

It Was Too Hot… and the Sea Was Too Wet

2010-02-01T14:27:00.001+01:00

This article brought back memories for me. While I often have a look on Trip Advisor before setting off somewhere, I take the reviews with a pinch of salt. It’s an unfortunate fact of life that people who receive poor service will shout much more loudly about it than people with good experiences.

I spent three years working for an (unnamed) travel company and would see the complaints letters coming in on a daily basis. The company I worked for was a small one, it’s reviews were pretty honest and it was very much about offering hotels at low prices. I dread to think what the letters must have been like if you worked for one of the big companies.

While there were, of course, some serious complaints; the majority were from people who had spent too much time watching Watchdog and were just trying to find faults in the hope of receiving a refund.

I’ll always remember one letter saying there had been prostitutes in the reception of her hotel before dinner. The contractor for that resort was passing so we asked her about it. “Prostitutes? No… They would have been the Russian’s mistresses*.” Brilliant!

Did we receive any letters saying how good their holiday was during the period I worked there? Of course not. Isn’t it time we stopped looking for problems and appreciated the good things?

I know I did a post yesterday where I complained about a hotel, but I do write nice reviews too…

* Actually, after going to Dubai and witnessing the Russian’s on holiday with their mistresses first hand, I can confirm that it would be easy to make this mistake. Maybe I’ll do a separate post on them sometime.

Hotel Terra Nova: Review

2010-01-31T17:25:00.001+01:00

This month we went on holiday to Noah’s Ark. Despite looking like a cruise ship the hotel wasn’t at all exciting. It had a ski hire shop and we were able to ski straight out of the hotel onto the green run shown at the front of the picture above. This was very good. There was a gym, sauna and beauty therapist, although I didn’t use any of them. It was also fairly centrally located within Plagne Centre, the biggest resort on the La Plagne mountain thingy (uber-resort?) in France; the resort centre was about a five minute walk.

On the downside, our room had twin beds (arguments ensued about who had to leave their bed for cuddles), and an adjoining door (thankfully locked) to a noisy Portuguese family. The room featured a full sized bath which was very welcome after a day on the slopes. There was a bar – it was blah.

The hotel’s restaurant was unbelievably dreadful. There was waiter service for half the week and a buffet for the other half. Even on waiter service nights the starters and desserts were still buffet service. It was weird and there seemed little point in having waiting staff when the buffet nights went much more smoothly. I don’t think I’m a complete restaurant loser – I don’t normally have problems – but this was highly confusing. On waiter nights there were only two choices for the main course – a fish and either chicken or beef; the fussier eaters in the party struggled. One night we waited for 45 minutes for our main course of duck to be delivered to our table; when it turned up it was hugely overcooked. I consoled myself with the delicious dauphinois potatoes that came with every meal and the pichet of wine which was included in our booking.

A conversation overheard between two of the restaurant staff:

- I’ve put forks on the table but there are no knives; should I get them?

- Non. Don’t bother.

Nice.

I’ve never been skiing before and don’t know how the Terra Nova compares to other skiing hotels. I suppose it was a fairly cheap option (hah! It was soooo expensive!). I don’t mind having a basic room or the hotels features being limited; this holiday wasn’t really about the hotel. However, I do like eating nice food in a nice setting and I was continuously frustrated by the restaurant – it could have been at least half decent if it wasn’t for the vague service and stupid systems.

If you’re still strangely keen to go, details are below:

Hotel Terra Nova, Plagne Centre, 73210, Macot La Plagne, France

Tel: +33 (0)4 79.55.79.00

Web: http://www.hotel-terranova.com/

Email: info@hotel-terranova.com

In The Exhaust Pipe… Of Course!!!

2010-01-30T22:30:00.001+01:00

I hadn’t bought any rubbish gossip magazines for a while so I treated myself to Now when I saw it in Relay today. I’m glad I did!

Henry has it off with his bike, Mary, twice a week, up the exhaust pipe (the logical place). His girlfriend doesn’t seem too bothered; at least it’s not another woman. She does make him wear a condom though, so he doesn’t cut himself (I don’t this would work).

Here he is, getting ready for some action. Do you think he keeps his glasses and his socks on throughout? I hope so.

Eija-Ritta Berliner-Mauer, wife of the Berlin Wall, has chosen something more difficult to get intimate with. I was interested to learn that she still considers the wall her husband, despite him being spread around the globe now, and that she doesn’t really approve of a united Germany. 1989 – not her year.

Bless ‘em, they aren’t hurting anyone. The same cannot be said for Erika Eiffel who was caught cheating on her husband, the Eiffel Tower (obv.), with the Golden Gate Bridge. The bitch!

Manifestation Pictures

2010-01-29T14:27:00.001+01:00

Ben’s been watching another manifestation today. It’s got something to do with Opel.

There is less tyre burning this time but they have been setting off bangers and they played a U2 song at one point.

There is some mistiness over the reason for the red, blue and green colour scheme.

It was the biggest protest Ben has seen from his office, although it probably wasn’t the most exciting…

Corpulent Cat

2010-01-28T17:56:00.001+01:00

This is Amber. She is the PDSA’s Pet Slimmer of the Year. As you can see from the before picture, she used to be one porky puss. She even had a tubby tail.

Amber lives in Scotland so we can probably put her size down to a desire for deep fried Mars bars*.

Sorry… no more alliteration, I promise.

I’m not very good with weights. I remember a friend asking how much my cat weighed when I was about fourteen. I had a look at him, he seemed quite big so I decided a couple of stone seemed reasonable. My friend found this hilarious, as did my mum. Even Amber at her fattest only weighed 15.7lb.

While we’re comparing Amber to my pets; now she’s toned down she looks quite a lot like our other cat, Jennie (not so much in the picture below). Amber doesn’t look quite so much like she’s going to scratch your eyes out, though.

* Can you believe I’ve never had a deep fried Mars bar? They sound like exactly the kind of thing I would LOVE. I bet Ben has; he used to have a Scottish accent and everything!

Poor Ben*

2010-01-27T21:55:00.001+01:00

Some conversations I’ve had with Ben today:

Please note, the conversations below are sometimes quite geeky. We didn’t use any of the hyper-geeky abbreviations – I just can’t be bothered to type…

On surveys…

B - There were some children at work today. They were doing a survey about the languages we spoke and our favourite seasons and dishes.

L - What did you say?

B - Well, I spoke to them in French so I had to say I spoke English and French. It would have seemed weird otherwise.

L - Obviously. What about your favourite season? Summer?

B - No, winter. I couldn’t remember how many accents there were in été. For my favourite dish I said dessert.

L - Didn’t they want to know a specific dish?

B - Yes. I just said all. All desserts.

I never got to do fun surveys at school. We just used to get to count the amount of cars turning into roads and stuff. Rubbish.

On our DVD collection…

L - Why do we have two copies of all of the Lord of the Rings films?

B - I bought the first set and then the extended editions came out. So I bought them too.

L - Really? You don’t watch them all back to back to discover which bits have been extended?

I worry I have given Ben an idea, here… I also worry he is grooming me into a geek. He seemed very pleased the other day when I knew the name of the stupid LOTR castle. I should add trying to make me a geek to the list before it’s too late…

This conversation started because I decided to alphabetise the DVDs. Geeky in an acceptable, house proud, OCD way?

On the next Star Trek film

B – I was reading about the plans for the new Star Trek film today. At one point they were considering teaming up with the X Men but decided it wouldn’t work - Patrick Stewart would have to play Charles Xavier, not Jean-Luc Picard.

L – Also because X Men isn’t set in the future? Anyway, CX is dead.

B – But the ST film has a new timeline now…

L – That doesn’t mean he would have come back to life a century after dying. JLP wouldn’t have been born anyway.

It’s too late… Ben has turned me into a geek. I am now fully conversant on the effects of screwing with the time-space continuum… or something. It gives me a headache.

On Commando

B – Shall we watch Commando?

L – No. Commander?? It sounds awful.

B – Um, Commando. It’s quite modern. It’s got Arnie in it. IMDB says ‘A retired elite commando has only a few hours to find and rescue his daughter from an exiled dictator’.

L – Wandering over to the computer. It’s from 1985! It’s not modern – I was ONE! Also, it sounds like a mix of Patriot Games and that awful film with Shannon from Lost.

B – Apparently you haven’t seen Patriot Games… And you liked Taken.

L – I didn’t like the ending – she didn’t deserve to meet Holly Valance, stupid taxi sharing twat – and I HATED her coat.

After this, Ben wisely escaped to the peace and quiet offered by Call of Duty. I think I ruined Commando for him. On the plus side, I didn’t ask him if it’s the one where Steven Seagal punches a penguin** in the face.

* One of my mum’s most frequently uttered phrases.

** Here are BLB Corp. we do not condone penguin punching. At least one of our board secretly dreams of opening a penguin sanctuary.

Out of Office

2010-01-15T22:56:00.001+01:00

We’re off to ski (Ben) and fall down mountains (me) for a week.

Ben hasn’t been skiing since we met so I thought it was time I gave in and learnt. I’m feeling quite enthusiastic about the whole thing so hopefully that will balance against my lack of balance and I’ll enjoy it.

See you in a week!

Sony Reader Pocket vs. Kindle

2010-01-13T14:58:00.001+01:00

I got a Sony Reader Pocket Edition for Christmas and absolutely love it. While choosing which ereader to go for, Lydia very kindly leant me her Kindle, Atlas, so I could try out the electronic book format. It’s a while since I used Atlas so I apologise if I miss anything out. Also, apologies for the switches between imperial and metric measurements and my insistence on working in GBP.

The Kindle is about 4cm longer and 2 cm wider than the Sony. Most of the extra space is taken up by the keyboard, but there are also large borders around the screen which feel unnecessary. I prefer the look of the Sony which is styled like a book (albeit one that doesn’t open), with three sides in a different material. The Kindle’s styling doesn’t exactly set the world alight. The Kindle comes in white. The Sony is available in Silver or Pink in the UK and seems to come in Navy Blue in America (annoying since I would have preferred blue).

Considering the extra size, the Kindle screen is 6” whereas the Sony is only an inch smaller. The screens are both on a par in terms of clarity, although I watched a video of the two next to each other and the definition on the Sony appeared a little better. Neither of the devices has a touch screen but both screens can be rotated. You can also increase the text size on each. I’ve read mine by lamplight and on a train without issues so the lack of backlight isn’t an issue – it’s exactly like reading a book.

Weight-wise, the Kindle is 290g and the Sony is 240g so not that much difference.

The Kindle has some extra features - you can browse Wikipedia and look things up in the (American) dictionary; both very useful. I think you can also add notes, which is nice. I like the fact that you can download a book straight onto the device. The Kindle has a selection of images available as a screensaver which were quite pretty but made it more difficult to actually switch the device off. One of the less successful features is Text to Speech which (at least, on the book I tried it with) was like having Stephen Hawking read you a bedtime story.

The Kindle seems well set up in the US market but in Europe the lack of access to other internet sites and the need to buy books from Amazon.com (in USD, and I believe, at a higher cost that in the States) is off-putting; the Kindle does not recognise the standard epub eBook format. There now seems to be the added issue of Amazon removing books from peoples Kindles after the publisher withdrew them – quite annoying when you’ve paid for a book!

The Sony Reader is a little short on extra functions but at £149 it is a fair bit cheaper than the Kindle (which would probably work out at about £200 once the shipping and import fees are added). I like the numbered buttons on the side which enable faster navigation in the menus. I think I prefer the next page buttons on the Kindle, purely for their location at the side of the screen.

The Kindle holds about 1500 books, while my little Reader only holds 350. Of course, you can store books on your computer and I think I’d struggle to put 350 books on (I think I’m at 135 with all the freebies I downloaded from the Sony site).

I don’t think the Kindle comes with a case but the Reader was supplied with a little padded storage pouch. I didn’t know about this before it arrived but I’m now glad I resisted the temptation to buy a leather case at the time of purchase.

The menus on both are easy to navigate, although the numbered buttons on the Reader speed up the process. Sadly, the Sony Library computer software is awful (although slightly better than the Walkman software) – once you’ve got to grips with it, it’s just a case of dragging and dropping but there’s little else to it which is a shame, it would improve the whole experience if it was more pleasant to use. I haven’t used the software for the Kindle so no comment on that.

So, in terms of which is better – it depends what you want. If you’re in America then the Kindle probably has a lot more to offer you. In Europe, the limitations would put me off - it feels like Amazon don’t really care about us. I really like the Sony, which does everything I could ask of it, but if you’re after a little bit more I’d shop around - there seems to be a lot of choice in ereaders at the moment (I notice that Waterstones are no longer only selling Sony) so it would be interesting to see what some of the others were like.

One thing I find very frustrating is having to pay almost full price for eBooks. Surely this defeats the object slightly? The Waterstones sale actually meant that it was cheaper to buy a real book at one point. Hopefully this will change as the format becomes more popular. For the moment I will content myself with the free classic stuff on Project Gutenberg.

The Ginger Fox: Restaurant Review

2010-01-12T21:15:00.001+01:00

On Saturday lunchtime we met Ben’s parents for lunch at the Ginger Fox; a gastro-pub between Brighton and Henfield, just north of Devil’s Dyke. It’s part of the Gingerman Group, a chain of three restaurants in the Brighton and Hove area, run by Ben McKellar (who is ginger – hence the name).

It’s a beautiful old cottage which has been done up and rethatched (complete with a Fox stalking across the roof). The inside is traditional but with bright modern twists, such as the gorgeous chairs shown below in the lounge area. The staff were super-friendly and helpful offering explanations of the dishes and advice. On a previous visit it was packed but this time round it was almost snowed in and we were one of about four tables.

The food is a stylish take on pub grub with classics such as Steak and Dripping Chips and Welsh Rarebit on the menu, alongside some more unusual options. The desserts looked so delicious we all decided to skip the starters and head straight into the main course.

I went for the steak and kidney pudding (I haven’t had suet pudding for years!) with spring onion mash, Ben chose the steak and chips, his mum had the homemade burger (again, with dripping chips which were double fried, Belgian frite fans) and his dad went for the venison. All mains were delicious and I even finished mine (most unusual, I seem to have a natural gastric band). The spring onion mash reminded me of stoemp – double miam!

The current menu doesn’t seem to be up on the website so I may get the desserts a little wrong. Ben and his dad had a toffee and banana cornetto with espresso ice cream (I think) and I enjoyed the masterpiece which was the honeycomb and iced greek yoghurt on a bed of figs. I’m not a big dessert person but this was probably the best pudding I’ve ever had. It wasn’t too sweet and the chunks of honeycomb provided an interesting change in texture.

I can’t remember what wine the others had but I had a couple of glasses of the house chardonnay which was good, even though I’m not normally a big chardonnay drinker.

This is a definite reccommendation if you’re in the area.

The Ginger Fox, Henfield Road, Albourne, West Sussex, BN6 9EA

Tel +44 (0)1273 857888

Pictures borrowed from: Essex Eating, Satelliet Browns & Sophia Evans

Weekend Recap

2010-01-11T16:00:00.001+01:00

Despite it’s best efforts the snow didn’t ruin our weekend. I was disappointed that we didn’t get to see everyone we’d planned to and a little sad that I hadn’t been able to get to Bluewater. It’s a shame that on the one weekend where we actually left enough time to see everyone, it snowed.

Here are a few observations about our trip:

- The British media does like to work itself into a frenzy over the snow doesn’t it? We had phone calls from several people who thought we’d be stranded in London after a piece on the news about all the trains being stopped. We were fine, a train arrived 10 minutes after we got to the station and we got on it. As far as we could tell, the only problem was that some of the doors had frozen shut.

- The snow disproved the common theory that ‘you can’t polish a turd’ – Burgess Hill actually looked quite pretty for the first time in it’s existence.

- La Senza is quite shit isn’t it? I had some vouchers to spend but everything was so horrible I came away empty handed. Ben had to ask me if it was a teenage girls shop.

- In relation to the above observation – why is it so hard to find an unpadded bra nowadays? Is this the case in other countries (Belgium counts as another country in this case)?

- On our way home, we got to St Pancras quite early as we were expecting carnage. There weren’t very many people there at all. While browsing in WHSmith I only got bashed by three peoples bags, which is some kind of record. The shopkeeper cried out ‘Who’s next, please?’ repeatedly, unable to believe that there wasn’t a queue.

- I did my usual thing of striking up conversations with nervous looking strangers, just because I could. Today, back in our flat, I haven’t spoken to anybody but myself yet.

- I managed to find some magazines I needed for my course so I’ve now got no excuse not to get on with my next assignment. If you see me procrastinating, please kick me…

On that note, I’m off to pretend to do some work.

Need… New… Shiny Stuff…

2010-01-06T15:29:00.001+01:00

I was going to write a blog post for you today but all that came out was unspecified rage along the following lines:

I hate Waterstones… I hate WHSmith… I miss Borders, I wanted to buy my ebooks from them – I bet their website wasn’t shit… Twitch twitch… Mutter…

It was very boring and I thought I would spare you from a blow by blow account of how haaaaaard it is to get ebooks and why the booksellers of the world are against me.

I managed it all in the end and am now the proud owner of The Winter Ghosts by Kate Mosse, Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel and The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters. Quite why I’ve bought two ghost stories when I am the sort of girl who always has to jump into bed to avoid the monsters underneath is beyond me.

I’m off for a long weekend in Blighty to recuperate (assuming the trains are still running – it’s England’s turn to try and break Eurostar with snow).

Next week (or at some undefined point in the not so near future) you can look forward to:

- a review of the Sony Reader

- a blow by blow account of our trip home (including a review of my new hairdresser)

- a very late post about Christmas

- a post about attempting to rediscover my ability to sew

You lucky things.

Wired!

2010-01-05T12:42:00.001+01:00

Ben is a terrifying combination of geek and hoarder. Under our desk we have his old computer which hasn’t been plugged in since we’ve been living here. It doesn’t have any sides for some reason and it once gave me an electric shock to the foot (he claims it was my fault for putting my foot in there in the first place).

Over Christmas his impressive wire collection (four boxes at last count) has spread to the box which houses the decorations for the rest of the year. I suppose I could transfer the wires to the box which is sitting on the balcony, holding our beer – but it’s cold out there and I think it’s got ice on it. Brr. Another option would be to give up either my box of fabric or my box of candles. Yeah, right.

At the moment I’m tidying the wires into little balls and tying them with string; working on the principle that if they look neat, they may slot neatly back into their old homes.

So far I’ve found a purple wire, a yellow wire, four iPod headphones, two old phones and my missing camera charger (hurrah!). The rest is a total mystery. With any luck I’ll find something bulky and so old I can give it to a museum. A dot matrix printer perhaps?

Do you or your significant others have any strange collections hidden away?

Resolved

2010-01-02T00:37:00.001+01:00

Today feels like I’m opening a brand new diary and writing my first entry, never mind all of last year in the archives. 2009 was probably the best year of my life but it was also the most challenging. I hope that 2010 proves to be just as happy but with less stress. I hope that things come more easily to me.

I’m not sure if they’re proper resolutions but I’ve put a list together. I want to do more exercise, I want to cook proper food every day, I want to stop wasting money on English magazines when I should be reading French ones, I want to save money (after I’ve bought a Roomba, a gigantic beanbag and a puppy).

Most of all I want to feel completely comfortable in Brussels, I want to speak half decent French, I want to get on with my writing and achieve something I’m proud of.

I don’t really do New Years Eve (it’s complicated) but this year I surprised myself by staying up and watching the fireworks light up the sky over the city. It left me feeling so positive about the future in a way that only fireworks can.

Here, have some pictures…

Happy New Year everyone, I hope 2010 brings you everything you wish for.

More Snowmen…

2009-12-21T22:26:00.001+01:00

While the snow had initially been fun and exciting, it then began to royally screw up everybody’s Christmas plans by breaking the Eurostar and icing up runways. People were too busy organising hot air balloons and rafts to get them across la manche and the inner children were neglected.

Pinolona built a tiny snowman on her balcony. It looks a bit like a penis but I don’t think this detracts from it’s beauty.

Our friend Lee built a rather nice snowman in Crawley. He stuck to a more traditional format although his accessories were unusual.

Laura: I particularly like his walking stick. Oh, and his scary red eyes. Are they glacé cherries???

Lee: They are coke bottle tops.

Laura: And the nose? That looks like a biscuit or a segment of satsuma.

Lee: It’s a shoe horn :D

Laura: Genius.

My stepdad, Ken, comes over all artistic when it snows and this time created a snowcat called Jennie 2. Last year he made a snow squirrel.

During our five hour arctic round trek to the supermarket today we came across some more snow sculptures.

This little chappy featured impressive stick usage. The eyes and nose were made of some kind of tiny fig.

Here we have a snowsnake presumably created by late night drinkers on Rue du Bailli. They also made a mouse.

In other exciting snow news, I helped to push a wheel-spinning car into a garage. I think the karma built up from this is the only reason I didn’t fall over today.

Yeah Baby!!!

2009-12-21T00:06:00.001+01:00

I’ve just watched the Strictly final and I’m a happy bunny as I was cheering on Team Cola. They were just soooo cuuuuute. Also, their Charleston was my favourite dance EVER! I would embed the video but I can’t, apparently.

Ricky was fine but he appeared to be a pretty good dancer in the first place so it didn’t seem like a huge challenge to him. I liked his partner, Natalie Lowe, a lot though and hope that she comes back next series. Ah, how I shall miss the weekly family VTs with Ricky’s dad calling him “Richard.”

I was glad that Ali and Brian were voted out last week – her sweetness started to grate by about week four. There just didn’t seem to be that much going on with her – maybe I’m just a horrible person but I found her very blah.

I think the highlight of the series for me was when Rav Wilding got voted out (in week three, although it was actually his second week because they have soooo many contestants they have to split them across two shows). He threw a little strop about it and made up a story about the phone lines not working.

Oh for the love of God, please don’t start this whole phone line thing again.

Mind you, I’d have been gutted to lose out to Lynda Bellingham and her big immobile face.

One good thing about this series being over is that I don’t have to hear about BLACKPOOL for another nine months. Jesus Christ, they spend one week there and bleat on about it like it’s the best place on earth! I’ve been, it’s shit.

And of course, what sort of Strictly post would this be without a mention of the whole Arlene/Alesha ageist sacking row. I still don’t understand why they got rid of Arlene Phillips; she was probably my third favourite judge (1. Craig 2. Len). I could take or leave her and Bruno but the line up didn’t seem like it needed changing particularly.

I’ve actually warmed to Alesha (a previous celebrity winner), after a shaky start she began forming her own opinions, she’s got an amazing laugh and I even grew to enjoy listening to her slaughter the English language on a weekly basis (at least she didn’t say ‘isit’ – a word that makes absolutely no sense to me).

Am I the only person who can’t stand Darcey Bussell? She’s so dull (D-U-double-L DULL!). She talks too quietly when giving comments and then blares out her scores like a big monotone foghorn. I also don’t like her nose. I don’t notice her getting the amount of abuse Alesha did when, in reality, she’s more clueless when it comes to the dances. At least Alesha knows how to do the dances!

I just found this link about last years final show which made me laugh.

Actress Samantha Bond, who starred in four James Bond films as Miss Moneypenny, told presenter Andrew Marr that she had tried to vote for runners-up Rachel Stevens and Vincent Simone 75 times – but had only succeeded on four occasions.

Why the bloody hell would anyone want to vote 75 times? Is Samantha Bond off her head? Does she have any idea how much those phone lines cost? That’s got to be at least £100 she’s tried to spend!

I wouldn’t be surprised if trophy hungry Tom and Camilla had sabotaged the lines themselves.

Balcony Snowman!

2009-12-17T15:25:00.001+01:00

Youpi! It’s snowing!! The windows in our flat are covered in the fluffy white stuff – it’s like being in an igloo, only ever so slightly warmer!

Pinolona and I decided not to let sub zero temperatures stand in the way of our inner children and made a pact to build a snowman each. It turns out that my inner child isn’t very artistic.

Internets, I’d like to introduce you to Ghislain. He is a thoroughly French snowman (or bonhomme de neige if you’re feeling picky). He’s also quite short (which decided the French theme) since I only had a limited amount of snow on the balcony. I think he looks a bit like he’s lost his false teeth.

I had to use the items I had to hand so in a break from the more traditional carrot and coal features I have used shallots for his eyes (French, see??) and a tea light holder for his mouth. His arms are made from bits of the dead olive tree that’s been on our balcony since we moved in. His scarf and beret are an actual scarf and beret… if that wasn’t obvious. I wanted him to be smoking a cigarette but it seemed a waste to buy a whole packet for a snowman.

Now – I challenge YOU (including the ones who don’t talk)! Well, only the people who have snow. Or will have snow in the next couple of days. Build a snowman, stick it on your blog and put the link in the comments or if you don’t have a blog, email me a photo of it and I’ll stick it up here for you. You should probably give some details about the bits you’re most proud of, or maybe a snowman back story.

Mmmmh!

2009-12-15T22:38:00.001+01:00

Mmmmh! is the Belgian equivalent of Lakeland Plastics. Except, it’s posher and doesn’t have as many random gadgets; it does do cookery lessons and wine tasting though. Sadly it’s customer service can be a bit hit and miss. Their Brussels branch is only round the corner from our flat and I like to admire the food processors and chopping boards in there.

Today I bought something!!! According to the bag she does not cook. I can’t decide how the feminists would feel about this…

Do you like my tea elephant in the background?

I actually bought four things. I was overcome by the sight of some English stuff and came away with some cheesy biscuits (amusingly branded ‘Grate Britain’) and some tea leaves. I also noticed that they sell Yorkshire Tea (€4 for a small box, builders tea fans). Regents Park tea is quite nice but probably not worth the €7.000.000.000.000 I paid for it.

A whale box??? Hein??? For the record, I LOVE this box.

All becomes clear… I found a whale kettle! I felt that there weren’t enough appliances with eyes in our flat. Now there are two – Norman the whale kettle and Sylvain the tape dispensing snail.

I just boiled him up and I’ve been delighted to find that instead of whistling he moans a sad whale song!!! This might just be the best thing I’ve ever bought. There were also pandas, ducks, elephants and giraffes available. I have no idea if they were as impressively vocal or, indeed, what noises half of the animals make (could you make a duck kettle say coin-coin*?).

The Palace of Strange Girls by Sallie Day

2009-12-14T18:12:00.001+01:00

The Palace of Strange Girls by Sallie Day

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Set in 1959, this book tells the story of a family who's holiday in Blackpool seems to have exacerbated all of their problems.

I read an interview with the author and she said that she writes blind, she doesn't plan a novel out before writing it. I think this could be where my problem with the book stems from. There were a lot of different stories running throughout and sections felt disjointed.

It was obvious that the book had been carefully researched but I found all the historical information a bit more than was necessary (and dull in the case of t' cotton and t' mill). I didn't like the flashbacks or sudden changes of character - these were thrown into the middle of chapters and led to the story feeling even more disjointed.

On the whole, it was an enjoyable story but I think it could have been so much better. I think this was her first book so I hope for better next time round.

View all my reviews >>

Lefty

2009-12-11T14:51:00.001+01:00

I’m left handed. Nobody else in my family is; we’re not sure what happened - I thought it was meant to be genetic. The only explanations we’ve come up with are:

a) My Grandad lost his right arm in an accident at work/the war (I’m hazy on the details) so he had to learn to be a lefty. Maybe somehow I’ve inherited it from him? I’ve definitely inherited his love of scabby stray animals.

b) I was being awkward.

Both my family and I have struggled with it over the years. They’ve had to work out how to do things the wrong way round so that they can teach me. My mum thinks the worst were probably knitting and holding a pen. Ben reckons I tie my shoe laces weirdly – presumably the result of this backwards teaching. Apparently I also hang clothes up the wrong way round – I have no idea how.

I do some things the right way. I use a knife and fork the proper way, although this actually makes more sense to me. Surely I need the stronger hand to hold the food in place as I saw at it wildly? Surely it makes sense to use the better coordinated hand to shovel the food into my mouth and not, for example, my eye? I do use a spoon with my left hand, this seems to be acceptable although I lay the spoons on the table left handedly which people seem to get really annoyed about. Think about how I feel at their tables!!!

I knit right handedly. Nobody could work out how to do that the other way round. Although calling it knitting or even right handed is stretching the truth. I stick one needle between my knees and work around it. It is painful to behold. A bit like watching an old person use a computer. I couldn’t watch it.

I struggle in the kitchen. I sustain more burns than most people (five in the preparation of one meal recently). I can’t use some tin openers. I can only use the vegetable peelers where the blade goes across the top. I can pour from a kettle with my right hand but only because I grew up with right handed kitchens.

Cutting things out with right handed scissors is a nightmare. I have special left handed ones which I guard with my life. Apparently I can use my left handedness as an excuse for being incapable of cutting bread straight, which is nice.

It makes me laugh to see Barack Obama writing - he has the classic lefthanders claw. I don’t have that. Instead, I write pretty much upside down. The bonus of this is that I can read upside down and sideways without a second thought, something some people seem to struggle with. I also have nice handwriting which is unusual for a lefty.

Pens on chains in banks are a complete nightmare. I can never unlock doors. I go to the wrong side when avoiding people in the street. Worst of all, I think I go for the wrong cheek first when kissing – Is there a rule?

I don’t think I would change being a south paw if I had the choice. I’m creative and would have the advantage in a lot of sports if only I wasn’t so clumsy. I get a nice feeling of satisfaction when I complete something made difficult by my hands. I also like being called a south paw (it makes me think of a polar bear, waving).

My only concern is that my left hand seems to be considerably less useful than most peoples right ones. I would quite like some more coordination - God knows I need it.

Fin de Manifestation

2009-12-09T12:04:00.001+01:00

Ben has been reporting on the events as they unfold at the strike across the road from him. Here is the last instalment for the manifestation fans.

“They've all just left (the Touring people) but have left a massive fire in the road.”

“What have they set fire to?”

“Just a load of wooden pallets or whatever they're called.”

I’m glad it’s not just me who’s forgetting English words.

“The pompiers have finally turned up, I'll send you another photo.”

Thanks Ben. Well reported.

Manifestation Alert!!

2009-12-08T15:41:00.001+01:00

Ben works further down the road from the normal hot spot for demonstrations, outside the Berlaymont building. He occasionally comes home with pictures of protesters marching down the street but he doesn’t get to see the more bizarre parts of most demonstrations.

It was an exciting day yesterday though. Touring (Belgian AA), whose head office is opposite Ben’s, announced some restructuring and the drivers were having none of it.

Excuse the quality of the photos, Ben took them from inside his office.

First they blocked off three of the four lanes on Rue de la Loi with their vans. Then they upturned an old banger outside the office door. Then they put some tires in an oil drum and set them on fire in classic manifestation style.

Here’s a quick update on the situation from Ben, live at the the scene:

“They're still there but only blocking one lane. The upside-down car isn't there any more, but there's still plenty of people huddled round a new oil drum filled with fire.”

This is nearly as good as the time the French farmers turned up with a plastic cow and filled a paddling pool with milk. It could have been a real cow, actually. They really put a lot of effort into their demonstrations over here.

Why is there Coal in my Shoe??

2009-12-06T22:29:00.001+01:00

Today is Saint Nicolas’ Day. He’s basically a mean Santa. He has a slave/good friend called Black Pete (the details are hazy; as far as I can work out he used to be a slave but is now just a friend. It’s best not to ask too many questions). Saint Nico will put you in a sack and kick you to Spain (where he lives) if you’re bad, although if you’ve been good he’ll put presents in your shoes. I think he used to be the bishop of Turkey and he looks similar to normal Santa which is confusing. He is also known for throwing satsumas at people so I was a little nervous when I saw him heading down the street towards us today. Turned out he’s gone soft – he gave us a coupon for two free mandarins from Carrefour!

Have I told you previously about the Belgian love for coupons? They put them next to items in Supermarkets so unless you take the coupon you don’t get a discount! If you go to one of the bigger supermarkets you are liable to have to wait for hours while the person in front of you explains to the cashier which coupons from the sheaf they are waving relate to which items. The rainforests thank you, Belgium…

We’ve had Ben’s family over for the weekend and spent our time walking veeeeery slowly between markets. Ben’s Nan bizarrely refused to take a coupon from Santa as she thought he was trying to make her go to church.

All the slow walking wreaked havoc with my big toe, which I’m fairly sure is broken. Ben has decided it’s just staved but since neither of us actually know what that means I’m not reassured. When he lived in Scotland his school nurse told him that his (probably broken) thumb was just staved – it still bends the wrong way now.

Maybe Saint Nico whacked me on the foot with his big stick when I wasn’t looking?

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

2009-12-06T18:25:00.001+01:00

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A beautifully written and heartbreakingly sad tale of women in Afghanistan over the past forty-ish years.

A friend bought this for me and I put off reading it, partly because it was hardback and therefore harder to travel with but also because I expected it to be harrowing.

In the end it was well worth the time spent on it. Despite dealing with a difficult subject matter it isn't a difficult book to sit down and lose yourself in for hours.

I just wish the sad feeling it's left me with would go away.

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An Unusual Burst of Film Watching

2009-12-03T14:03:00.001+01:00

I’m not sure where I was in the late eighties and early nineties but I don’t seem to have seen any films from the time (with the notable exception of Spacecamp; a film that nobody except my friend, other Laura, and I seems to have seen).

Ben has taken it upon himself to educate me. Under the guise of ‘getting in the Christmas spirit’ he’s lined up a selection of classic films for us to see in the month of December. This is all well and good but leads to some difficult conversations and questions.

Jingle All The Way

Classic ‘Dad forgot Xmas gift and has to go shopping on 24th Dec' with added Arnie. I might have seen this before, I guessed exactly what would happen quite early on which suggests that I have. Either that or it’s just a reeeaaaally obvious plot.

Who could possibly think it would be realistic to give the role of a man named Howard Langston (a very American name, surely) to an Austrian man with a fairly thick accent? I’ve only just learned that the kids name is Jamie – I thought Arnie was calling him Timmy for the whole film!

Die Hard

B – You’ll like this. It has both Alan Rickman and Bruce Willis in.

L – Hmm. I think I’ve seen it. Bruce Willis works in an ice hockey rink and then there’s a bomb or something.

B – Err… No. You’re thinking of Sudden Death with Jean-Claude van Damme.

L – Ah, that’s a great film. I used to watch it on the bank holidays when they weren’t showing Spacecamp. Will Bruce be wearing a vest and smoking in this? It doesn’t look like a Christmas film.

B – Yes. And, yes it is - It’s set at Christmas.

L – Yippee ki-yay, mother fucker! Let’s get a-watching.

I’ve just looked up JCVD’s character from Sudden Death and he’s called Darren McCord. That is even worse than Howard Langston! Did they pretend his Belgian accent was actually Scottish??

The Information Officer by Mark Mills

2009-12-01T22:52:00.001+01:00

The Information Officer by Mark Mills

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Set in Malta during WWII, this book covers the British occupation (if that's the correct word, I think Malta was part of the Commonwealth then) and the Maltese reaction to it. Although, it's really more about Max, an army officer who is investigating the murders of some local girls which seem to have been committed by another Brit. Golly.

The level of historical detail included was fascinating, I knew nothing about Malta's part in the war and was interested to learn what an important role it played.

Despite appearing quite readable, I did struggle to get through this book. The chapters are insanely long which makes sitting down to read a little feel like a big commitment. I also found the characters a little stale for my liking. I didn't have any issues with them individually but I felt like I knew the murderer best of all (he got his own chapters, offering an insight into his damaged mind). They were all a bit jolly hockey sticks/stiff upper lip/'insert other wartime British stereotype here' for my liking.

I preferred this book to The Savage Garden, Mills' previous work, which I seem to remember had the same character issues for me. I will certainly read his other books at some point because the good stories and interesting writing outweigh my complaints.

Oh, another thing. On the cover picture there is a fallen column on the bottom left - does anyone else think this looks like a seal? It's very distracting!

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The Democratic Republic of Frenglium

2009-11-30T23:09:00.001+01:00

I like Belgium very much. I also like England and France very much. Obviously each country has aspects that I dislike as well. I feel that if I could create a country consisting of the best aspects of each, I would be entirely happy.

Firstly, I need to find an island somewhere hot. Then I will find a pretty looking French town and move it onto my island with the help of a giant crane. I’ve decided on a French town because, as much as I like Brussels, it isn’t the most picturesque place in the world.

England

- An understanding of the need to clean up after your dog

- Easily available fresh milk

- Pubs and, therefore, pub lunches

- Tea, delicious tea

- Imperial measurements to go alongside the metric system (where’s the fun of measuring if you don’t have to remember whether there are twelve or fourteen inches in a foot or pounds in a stone)

- Clear signage on roads and in public places

France

- Wine

- Moderately bad drivers (the English bore me and Belgian driving could scare the shits off a donkey)

- A sense of style (from Paris, to be precise)

- Nice beaches

- A superior attitude and shrugging skills

- Those little rest stops every few kilometres on the motorways (although Frenglium will have cleaner and less hole-in-ground based toilets)

- Saucisson

Belgium

- The Metro

1. The escalators turn themselves off when not in use and then burst into life when you reach them – I like the moment of panic just before they get going. Also, the escalators are very short.

2. It’s very cheap to use our public transport system. Most people don’t seem to bother paying at all.

3. The lines are shallow (hence, short escalators) which enables constant mobile phone usage.

4. They play music on the platforms while you wait for your train. Really random music!!!

- Dutch - an amazing language

- An encyclopaedic knowledge of the correct kisses for every occasion

- The zebra-horse at the café at Gare du Midi

- Dogs in shops & restaurants

- Massive amounts of surrealism at every turn

- Beer

- This advert:

Don’t ask what can Frenglium do for you – What can you do for Frenglium? What would you bring to our new nation? What qualities (the weirder the better) do you admire from other countries that we could steal?

The List of Unacceptable Qualities in a Boyfriend

2009-11-27T21:03:00.001+01:00

As requested by Lydia and Adrian, here is the list of the unacceptable qualities in a boyfriend. Apparently, most people don’t have these.

I should point out before I start listing that Ben doesn’t have any of the bad habits listed below and is super-lovely. To his credit, he knew about the list when we started dating and didn’t run a mile.

It’s really just a list of things that people have done to enrage me at some point in the past and is therefore ever evolving. People who are not boyfriends will often do something which I will inform Ben that if he ever does I will leave him. I probably wouldn’t; don’t tell him that though.

There are separate lists for friends, family members and acquaintances but I can’t post those because some of the people who inspired the list read this blog.

1. Do not, under any circumstances, wear a fleece on a date. Particularly not a first date. I will not return your calls.

2. Don’t tell me what to do. I will sulk like a child. Actually, Ben does try to do this occasionally; he usually means well - “Look both ways before crossing the road”, “Don’t talk to that tramp”, “Don’t steal the Glutton”.

3. Don’t have the wrong accent for where you’re from. I don’t care how many South Africans you work with – you are from Croydon, talk like it!

4. Don’t clear your throat just as I answer the phone every time you call me.

5. Don’t keep your wallet in your trouser pocket if it means you’ll have to stand up to get it out to pay for dinner. Keep it in your jacket. Or just let me pay – even that would be better.

6. If you’re going to wear a leather jacket, make sure it fits you nicely. If it looks like it came from a market I won’t be seen with you.

7. Like a theme park ride (bad example), I have height restrictions. All potential boyfriends must be 5’10” or over. I’m quite tall and often wear heels; I don’t want to tower over you.

8. For the love of God, don’t wear ugly shoes. I once went out with someone who was wearing what appeared to be grandad shoes. I nearly died of shame.

9. Don’t wear a t shirt with some sort of massive hideous designer label on the front, particularly if it doesn’t fit. You’ll look like a berk. If you bought it from a charity shop despite it not fitting but because it was cheap, you will look like even more of a berk.

Can you think of anything else that should be on the list? What would be on your list? Do you have a list? Please, someone, have a list!

Chez les Ch’tis

2009-11-26T13:53:00.001+01:00

The Christmas shopping sleigh is off and careering dangerously out of control!! Last week we ventured to Lille to search for that special something, let Ben visit the Fatherland and satisfy my bi-annual need to (ahem) fall into the Gap.

For some reason I’d got it into my head that I hated Lille. The first time I went was a school trip and last time Ben got his arm stuck in the door of a metro that we didn’t even need to catch!! Anyway, third time lucky and all that – Lille is very nice.

Firstly, we knew where we were going this time and trotted straight off to Euralille (a shopping centre presumably built to contain British day trippers) where I bought a purple owl to go on our Christmas tree (they’ve got an Accessorize!!! Eeeeeee!!!!!) and wandered around New Look touching shoes and stroking jumpers.

After the excitement of Euralille we continued on to the town centre. Last time we visited was in June and it rained and I had a shitty day despite buying two yellow dresses (both of which I’ve worn, surprisingly); this time it was only mildly cold and bright which made it much more pleasant. The beggar with the cat was still there; Tati was still there looking, well, tatty; this time though there was also a CHRISTMAS MARKET (and we all know how much I like them) and a Ferris wheel being built:

We managed to track down the gift that had been eluding us in Belgium and I bought some new t-shirts and a red checked dress in Gap (my Christmas day outfit is coming together nicely). We looked in FNAC at the little teeny weeny laptops and prodded the eBook reader things a bit before buying magazines (even more expensive than in Brussels). Then we meandered through the streets of the old town and Ben took some pictures.

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest by Stieg Larsson

2009-11-21T20:19:00.001+01:00

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest by Stieg Larsson

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I've been feeling a bit sad after finishing this book. It was brilliant in the same way the first two in the Millennium trilogy are brilliant but now I'm left wanting more and Stieg Larsson is dead so I can't have more. Apparently he had planned to write ten of these - even more frustrating! Given that fact it's amazing that all of the loose ends were tied up and I am left with no niggling questions.

I'll have to make do with the films I suppose (the first one is excellent). I've read that there are plans for Hollywood to make their own versions of them which fills me with dread as they will probably be terrible in the way that Hollywood remakes of foreign films usually are.

Blimey, I'm getting gloomy enough to write my own Scandi crime novel over here!

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European Excitement

2009-11-20T13:25:00.001+01:00

A surprise foray into the little explored (by me) world of politics.

Herman Van Rompuy has been elected as the EU President, much to the dismay of the British press it would seem. Personally, I think they’ve made a good choice. Belgium has seemed fairly united of late and surely the role of EU president should involve trying to keep the different countries of Europe happy, together and away from each other throats.

Sarkozy seemed happy with the decision, saying it was a wise decision to choose a candidate from "an important country but not one of the most important countries." Umm, yeah… thanks for that slightly patronising comment, Nicolas.

The British press should be somewhat consoled by the fact that the other job of Foreign Affairs Chief has gone to Baroness Catherine Ashton, a Brit. I don’t know anything about her but I imagine Harriet Harman is eating her face off in glee at having a woman in one of the top spots. I just hope she wasn’t elected purely because she was a woman; it would be great if there was more sexual equality in the top jobs but I fail to see the benefit of appointing someone to a role based on their sex when another candidate is more suitable. Surely that is just the same old sexism but in reverse?

I find it immensely frustrating that Britain seems to consider itself so important to Europe that they MUST have one of the top jobs. Why should a country that takes what it wants from Europe and complains relentlessly about being a part of it have anything to do with it’s leadership?

Back to Van Rompuy. I have been doing my research this morning and like him more and more! His interests include caravanning, reading and penning haikus (in Dutch, an even more amazing language in haiku form); he is an avid blogger and apparently, he takes himself off to a monastic retreat once a month. Brilliant!

So, in honour of Herman, I have composed my own haiku.

Herman got the job

Europe has a leader, but

What will Belgium do?

Carrefour Insanity

2009-11-17T22:46:00.001+01:00

At Carrefour this evening we were queuing happily (we are British, after all) and discussing the people around us, under the (probably false) assumption that they didn’t speak English.

Note to self: LEARN DUTCH – they almost definitely won’t speak that!!!

Anyway, there was some kind of hold up at the front of the queue… Normally this happens when they’ve employed an entirely new team of workers with nobody experienced on the shift, but today we had the little guy in the Burberry shirt who’s been there for at least a month.

Wandering around, looking at sweets while they should have been paying, were some special looking ladies. At first I thought they were just causing problems and queue jumping in front of each other but eventually it became clear that they were together… and totally bat-shit crazy!

Anyway, the sorted themselves out in the end and we got to the desk. I was packing things away in my Cora bag (a warning to Carrefour that we are not in a mutually exclusive relationship with them and if they don’t start stocking enough milk I might go elsewhere, at much inconvenience to myself I should add) when lo and behold – the nut-nuts returned, started muttering and digging around in my bags saying something which sounded like “chocolatey chocolatey.”

Presumably they thought that the checkout guy/I had stolen their snacks. Bloody hell… What do you do in a situation like that? I settled for muttering “non... non…” and shooing them away. The checkout guy just laughed – he was alright, if they got nasty and started spitting I would have been in the firing line.

If I only learn French for one reason, it will be to shout at people in shops. So, what is the French for “Are you completely off your head?? Get out of my bags, you crazy witch!!!”?

Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë

2009-11-16T15:44:00.001+01:00

Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë

My rating: 1 of 5 stars

Agnes Grey spends her time trying to make the lives of her students and those around her as dull as possible. She does not approve of fun, it would seem. If she can't do something or if something goes wrong then she will blame someone else - never God though, she likes God.

I struggled with this book. It's a lot more readable than Wuthering Heights, by her sister Emily, but also a lot less enjoyable. I wasn't particularly interested in the characters and got sick of Agnes' voice wittering on about how wonderful her mother was. The only reason I finished it was the novelty value of reading on a Kindle.

eBooks – lovely.

This eBook – not for me, I fear.

View all my reviews >>

The Lighthouse by P.D. James

2009-11-12T12:52:00.001+01:00

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I love P.D. James. Her books are well written and hold your attention nicely. I can never guess the killer and surely that's the sign of a good crime writer?

She's nearly ninety and writing these modern crime novels which still have a strange old fashioned feeling about them due to her descriptions of the characters. I can't imagine anyone else doing that.

I do struggle to relate to any of the main characters. I suppose because I've only read two of her her most recent books and haven't followed poet/police detective Adam Dalgliesh (I know!) from the start, but also because they seem quite old fashioned yet are in a modern setting (she's been writing with some of them from the sixties so it's not surprising). This doesn't put me off though, strangely - it just makes me want to devour the whole series right from the beginning. View all my reviews >>

Goodreads

2009-11-12T11:58:00.001+01:00

I’ve recently joined Goodreads. Why just subject you guys to my book reviewing when I can broadcast it across the world on a website with more than twenty readers. The good news is that I can show my Goodreads review on here too so you don’t miss out – you lucky, lucky people.

Goodreads is a bit like Facebook for books. Bookbook? Bookface? Each book has a page and people write reviews on it’s wall. Sort of. You can also make friends on there. I have no friends. Sniff.

I could even update my booklist in the side bar with a Goodreads one. I might do that actually… It would be less annoying to update. It would also show all seven million books in my possession. Nice.

I was going to investigate the book swap thingy they have on the site but that seems to be US only so I shan’t. Their loss…

Right, I’m off to review things and make a list of all my books.

Holidays Are Coming…

2009-11-10T12:30:00.001+01:00

Is it too early for a Christmas post? Never!

While I’m beginning to get hugely excited about Christmas I’m also finding the idea a little stressful. I’ve sort of got it into my head that there is more chance of a white Christmas in Belgium than in the UK (it was very snowy in January this year). This is an excellent reason to be excited in my opinion although if it interferes with the family’s travel plans then I will not be impressed.

This will be my first Christmas in a foreign country so I’m looking forward to seeing all of the differences (although we will be having as English a Christmas as possible). While looking for a site about Christmas in Belgium I came across this bizarre description of Christmas in Belgium. They’ve done something I’ve never seen before in calling Belgian French “Walloon” – weird.

So, onto the stress. We’ve got to get presents for Bens family by 6th December. Not because it’s St Nicolas day, it just happens that they’re coming over then. I might still put their presents in their shoes though.

Then we have my family coming over. I’m looking forward to this as my step brothers haven’t been over here to see us yet. There’s going to be seven of us in a two bedroom flat though which could prove stressful. We haven’t got enough chairs.

Ken will be in charge of the cooking since he can’t stand being left out of the kitchen and I have vowed never to make a roast dinner. We’re making a break from tradition with beef because at least two of us hate turkey and apparently shepherds pie is not the Christmas dinner of champions. I will be making a Ceviche for a (somewhat random) starter.

Do I need to pre-order the beef? What are we going to eat on Christmas Eve? Will I be able to find a pot of seafood for the Ceviche I’m making for a starter? Why have Carrefour stopped selling pots of seafood? Will I ever manage to find a Sony Reader to try before buying? Do they sell them in France, because they don’t in Belgium? Yes, I stress about ridiculous things… Please feel free to reassure me in the comments.

Oh, and I’ve decided to buy what I can online this year and get it delivered either straight to the family members I wont see until next year or sent to my mum to dispatch. Please could said family members hurry up and decide what they want? THERE’S ONLY SIX WEEKS TO GO!!! WHY ISN’T ANYONE ELSE STRESSED???

I feel a little better now. When do the markets start?

The Glassblower of Murano by Marina Fiorato

2009-11-09T15:56:00.001+01:00

I really enjoyed this book. Unfortunately, I have very little to say about it so I took a picture of it for you.

The Glassblower of Murano is another split timeline novel; it’s set in Venice in both the 1600s and the modern day. It covers the stories of Corradino Manin, who sold Venetian glass making secrets to the French, and his ancestor Nora Manin, who has split up from her husband and decided to move to Venice and become the first female glassblower.

While it sounds a little schmaltzy it wasn’t overdone and I sped through it, really enjoying it. I thought the author described Venice really well; I often find that books don’t do it justice.

So, yep - I’d recommend this book. It’s an easy yet interesting read.

Laura ♥ Books

2009-11-05T14:57:00.002+01:00

While reading through the study booklets for my creative writing course I was pleased to see that I should be reading widely and often to keep up to date with world events and to start paying more attention to different types of writing.

With regards to current affairs, my knowledge is spectacularly poor – I only learnt at the weekend that this EU Presidency thing they keep mentioning in the papers is a new post.

For as long as I can remember I have read at any possible opportunity; my whole family are big readers. Where Ben will watch telly, I will read. When I lived at home I would always say I was going to tidy my room but would be found curled up with a book underneath a fresh layer of mess by my despairing mother.

But now reading books is good for my course. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it

So there!

Persuasion by Jane Austen

2009-11-03T15:42:00.001+01:00

Aside from the first chapter of Great Expectations and the first half of several Shakespeare plays I don’t think that I had ever read something published before 1930 until last December.

Since then I’ve discovered Jane Austen. I’ve owned Emma for years and have still yet to read it; instead I started off with Pride and Prejudice - now on my list of the top 5 books ever. I think I was surprised at the comedy evident throughout; I assumed old meant serious!

I finished Persuasion last night and while not as immediately arresting as Pride and Prejudice I enjoyed it very much. The humour throughout and the fun poked at various characters appealed to me.

The story follows Anne Elliot who had been persuaded not to marry the love of her life, eight years previously. As the book progresses he comes back into their circle and throughout all the twists and turns this story tells of love standing the test of time.

Jane Austen books always evoke the time so well for me – I can imagine life in her books much more effectively than in a lot of others I’ve read. I suppose a childhood of National Trust visits will do that to a girl.

I think I have a hugely romantic vision of the olden days and a strange desire to live them (I wander round ruined castles, thinking about where my furniture would go). This is one of the biggest differences between Ben and I; if we could time travel, I would go back and he would go forward.

Bleu De Toi

2009-11-01T13:16:00.001+01:00

We went out for a lovely meal last night. One of Ben’s colleagues had recommended we try Bleu De Toi, a restaurant situated between the Marolles and Sablon areas of Brussels.

Bleu de toi is a Belgian expression which means “I’m crazy about you.” They serve sea food and meat dishes although their specialities are Lobster and also Bintjes (jacket potatoes) stuffed with seafood, vegetables or meat. The bintjes are a much more gourmet experience than the baked potatoes I’m used to eating. Apparently, jacket potatoes aren’t really known in Belgium so the menu in this restaurant is quite unusual.

We’d tried to go with some friends previously but due to a mix up with our booking and a huge party booked for the same night we’d had to rebook. They were very apologetic and offered us a free bottle of champagne with our next meal there so we were happy to give them another try (they had me at ‘free’).

I’m glad we went back as it was absolutely fantastic. Our champagne was, of course, very nice (not a bottle of cheap cava as I’d expect in a restaurant in England) and the food delicious. The staff were friendly and the lady who I took to be the owner recognised us and came over for a chat.

They have special seasonal menus alongside the normal listing and the autumn one was 28.50€ for three courses (with two choices per course) and also carried some recommended wine options. Menus are in three languages which is helpful but I’m much less adventurous in English; I usually fare better with a French menu.

We both went for the main menu and straight into the main course, keen to try out some bintjes (which are also available as entrées).

Ben opted for a Bintje Poulet Yassa which is filled with chicken marinated in onion, lime and mustard. We had had another type of Poulet Yassa at an African restaurant we tried a few weeks ago with Lydia and Adrian (which I forgot to blog about). This one was different but still delicious.

I enjoyed my Patate Douce des Iles Grenadines which was a sweet potato stuffed with crab meat, banana and vanilla and coated in a mango sauce. I don’t particularly like banana and haven’t really tried crab before but read about the dish in French and decided to give it a shot – I’m glad I did as the flavours really complimented each other. For dessert, Ben had nougat and I had a trio of crème brulées – all very yummy.

If you take a look on their website you can see pictures of the restaurant and it’s really nicely decorated in shades of blue, spread across two floors (with the kitchen on the third floor, unusually) and with a terrace for the summer).

Bleu de Toi, Rue des Alexiens 73, 1000, Bruxelles

Tel: +32 (0)2/502.43.71

Website: http://www.bleudetoi.be/ – booking online possible

Email: bleudetoi@skynet.be

Open for lunch and dinner – closed Saturday lunch and Sunday

Look Out, Belgium…

2009-10-29T11:13:00.001+01:00

Yesterday was both a good and a bad day for me. Let’s do the good first, it will distract me briefly from the pain of the bad.

I got my ID card yesterday. I’m staying, Belgium, and there’s nothing you can do about it! Well, until 07/09/2014 at any rate… (yes, I waited nearly two months to collect the card – what of it???). I am pleased with the look of the card – the gothic passport photo has been converted to black and white and, strangely, this makes me look less gothic and more elegant. I always get confused by pictures as my parting is on the other side from in the mirror – I look all wrong. I can now finally stop lugging my passport round everywhere with me – youpi!

I had my first assignment marked for my writing course and my tutor said that it was a great start and I have a good command of the English language – I know! I’m as shocked as you! Anyway, it was just the boost I needed to get on with assignment two which looks much more tricky.

Now the bad news – All four of my bloody wisdom teeth seem to have decided to make a break for freedom at the same time. Even the bastard one which burst forth about two years ago and promptly got impacted* and infected has joined in the action. They’re pushing all the other teeth into weird positions and now one of them has started getting caught on my tongue. Woe is me…I am utterly pathetic.

* Oh yes, former colleagues. I can still remember at least one word of dental terminology!

Window Cleaners, Swamps and Dead Bats

2009-10-28T11:22:00.002+01:00

I woke up at Ben’s parents’ house (that wasn’t really their house) and noticed that, firstly, there was a window cleaner perving at me through the window, and secondly, there was a dead bat hanging off the curtain pole. My old cat was there too, I blamed him for the bat being there, he liked bats. Ben came into the room which surprised me as I thought he was in Belgium. Apparently, he’d got the train over with me the night before.

I walked to the bathroom and turned the tap on at the sink. It hadn’t been plumbed in properly though and water ran across the floor. I turned my attention to the shower but a new bath had been fitted and the sides were too high for me to climb into. Fortunately, they’d left a step ladder for me to use.

I went to the airport – I was going to Tobago with my Mum. I got there early but couldn’t check in as my suitcase was in Mum’s car (she was coming later). When I found her she’d checked herself in but left my case in the car park. I checked in with minutes to spare and then we went home for some reason. We missed the flight, obviously.

Somehow, I was in Tobago; I was with Ben though, not my Mum. We went to the beach but it was more of a swamp with strange little man made islands of sand that could be pushed around. We settled on an island but Ben pushed it into the shade. I got off and swam it back to the sun but then Ben pushed again and me and the island went hurtling off across the swamp. We stopped when we bumped into the dead body all wrapped up on a little funeral island. We began to wonder whether perhaps the swamp water was poisoned...

I woke up and told Ben about the dreams and he laughed.

Then I really woke up. I was quite pissed off by this point – Ben had sent me scuttling across a poisoned lake AND not listened to me telling him about my dreams (I presumed I had actually spoken as I do chat to him while I sleep).

Turns out Ben had been happily asleep; dreaming of aliens, free power sources and who knows what else. Sorry Ben.

My dreams always seem to be so frustrating!!! RAAA!!!

Vous êtes Belge?

2009-10-25T17:10:00.001+01:00

Have I mentioned before that I look quite Belgian? This is all well and good when it comes to living in England and looking a little bit exciting and foreign but when I’m over here it gets more complicated.

Out of a whole street of people, I appear to be everyone's first choice for directions. I don’t really mind as it gives me a chance to practice my French. This weekend we have variously directed people to Arts-Loi metro station, Place Stephanie and “the centre-ville with all the monuments and stuff.”

While taking the big free glass lift down to Les Marolles a while ago I politely held a door open for an old man. He then proceeded to talk to me in crazy old man French until I gave in and said I couldn’t really speak much… At which point he told me that it was ok because he was Nederlands too and carried on in Dutch. By this point it was all too much for me and I just smiled and said Ja and Nee every now and then.

Recently, I went to a doctor and decided that it would be best to check if he could speak English – he could, terribly. Good thing too because once he heard that I was foreign he refused to understand my French anymore.

Laura: J’ai mal a dos. (I have a bad back)

Doc: You ‘ave ‘eadache?

Laura: NON! Pas de ‘eadache – J’ai mal a dos.

Doc: Vous êtes Flamand? (You are Flemish?)

Laura: Hein? (Eh?)

So there you go – If you look like a lanky French person you have to be some form of Belgian.

While writing this I found a rather nice table on Wikipedia (I do love statistics) – It turns out that I’m the average height for a Belgian woman. Or a Mongolian man.

Things I Like

2009-10-22T12:31:00.001+02:00

In a bid to end the moaning streak I seem to have begun recently I have made a list of my favourite things. I’ve mentioned some things I like before so I’ve tried to find ten new and previously unexplored favourites.

1. People who look like their dogs.

2. New stuff (possessions, places, people).

3. Reading up on peoples star signs.

4. Surprises.

5. Wearing sunglasses and spying on people.

6. Singing and dancing to my IPod when left alone at home.

7. Giving gifts.

8. Finding lost things in unexpected places.

9. The sound of rain on the windows.

10. Handbags.

My Sister’s Keeper Strikes Again

2009-10-20T21:44:00.001+02:00

Gah! I did it... I watched My Sister’s Keeper. Now I want to take my eyes out with hot pokers, or possibly put myself forward as a brain donor (oooh, topical) – anything to get that god awful film out of my head.*

Alec Baldwin was as bad as expected, he was like a big faced ham, over-emoting his way through the court room scenes – I actually didn’t notice when he had a seizure because he was sooo over the top for the rest of the film.

I quite enjoyed the ‘cooking with firemen’ montage but only because it brought back fond memories of the ‘African poverty/flute playing’ montage from The Translator with Nicole Kidman.

This is exactly why I don’t watch films very often. I have had to expand my worst films ever list to include it! It now joins the ranks of Cabin Fever and Open Water. It takes a special kind of awfulness to get onto this list – Ben wasn’t watching with me but did turn round at one point to ask why I was watching something so awful - I think the amount of tooth grinding and rage spilling from my every pore was distracting him.

*Actually, my eye is now hurting so it would seem that it has chosen to destroy itself rather than ever be put through anything like that again.

My Sister’s Keeper by Jodie Picoult

2009-10-20T15:27:00.001+02:00

Anna was a designer baby - she was created as a perfect genetic match for her sister who has a rare form of leukaemia. After spending thirteen years of her life saving her sister’s life her mum now expects her to give up a kidney for the cause. This book is about Anna’s fight for medical emancipation from her parents – her right to make her own decisions about her body - and the moral and ethical questions that stem cell research raises.

While I could relate to most of the characters in some way, I really struggled with the mum, so caught up in saving one daughter that she managed to turn her son into a delinquent pyromaniac and completely ignore her other daughter. I found it really hard to see things from her point of view and spent much of the book wishing that they would discover that she could in fact donate her own kidney and that hopefully she would die on the operating table. That would serve her right.

My personal favourites were Campbell, the seemingly cold-hearted lawyer and Julia, the kooky court appointed guardian. They were a mismatched couple in high school until Campbell broke it off in mysterious circumstances. I liked Campbell’s increasingly bizarre lies to explain his service dog (“I’m a lawyer, he chases ambulances for me” has to be the best). However, when the truth finally came out I just felt a little disappointed – why would he go to such great lengths to hide that? Also, surely he wouldn’t be allowed to drive?

There’s a twist in this book and unfortunately it rendered some of the things that Anna had said - not just to other characters, but as part of the narration - redundant.

My copy of the book had one of those “Interview With The Author” and “Book Club Discussion Questions” sections at the back which are a complete nightmare for me because I will just flick to them and ruin the ending, as I did with this book. I found the first question particularly nonsensical.

I don’t think I liked the ending. It didn’t really feel right next to the rest of the book and I feel that it could have finished in a better way. I cried of course, I spend a great deal of my life crying at books, but it wasn’t as bad as the time I read the bit of PS I Love You with the travel agency; that involved crying my eyes out on a packed train and having to pretend it was hayfever. Oh god, or every time I read The Book Thief and spend days wandering around the house in tears “But his hair is like feathers, Ben, FEATHERS!!! Waaaaaaiiiiiil!!!”

Anyway, I digress. I’ve done my usual thing of complaining about a book when in fact I really liked it. I just feel a bit complicated about it.

Apparently the ending of the film is different so I might give that a try as well – it has Alec Baldwin and his enormous face in it though so I’m not holding out high hopes.

I Love Eating…

2009-10-17T17:38:00.001+02:00

I have discovered a new favourite food – Ceviche! It’s basically raw fish which is marinated in lemon or lime juice which cooks the fish (I don’t really understand). It’s bloody lovely!!! Be warned, family, I will probably attempt to make this at Christmas.

We went over to some friends in Schaerbeek last night and they put on a lovely table of tapas and wine (so much wine). It was nice to go to someone’s house and steal their recipe ideas rather than just working through the same old cook books week after week.

We had a bit of a disaster on the way there when I got the road name wrong and led us into Place du Ghetto rather than the nice leafy bit of town our friends live in. It was fine though, it only added ten minutes to our walk in the pouring rain.

After last nights adventure we spent this morning walking to a big GB we’ve found locally (20 minutes away, it’s actually just round the corner from one of the flats we viewed). I satisfied my craving for pâté, Ben picked up some cereal which we didn’t think they sold here and we spend a long time looking at the English shelf – they had Spaghetti Hoops and Pop Tarts!!! You can’t get Pop Tarts in England anymore!!! I like trying new foods in Belgium (I bought Stoemp as well – yes I am too lazy to mash potato and carrot) and exploring the markets for interesting new ideas but sometimes I just want to sit down and eat something which reminds me of home.

More Travelling & Some Stupidity

2009-10-15T18:21:00.001+02:00

So, just to finish my recap of the weekends events:

- Saw graffiti saying “Big Dave’s Gusset” on the way to London. Cheered me up a little as I was feeling very travel sick.

- The man next to me on the Eurostar took about 700 pictures of the inside of our carriage. Weird.

- Went to Carrefour and put my cheese into someone else’s basket. I said “oh, cock… désolé” and walked off without retrieving the cheese. I didn’t have the vocab to explain why I was digging around in their basket, in case they didn’t realise. Turned out he was English though so I needn’t have worried.

Vous Avez Dit Shopping?

2009-10-14T14:03:00.001+02:00

The reason for last weekends visit to England was to attend a christening. Ben is now a god father. He seems fairly happy with this role and particularly enjoyed doing the sign of the cross on the babies head. I displayed too much cleavage and described the church hall as “wicked” to the priest.

Of course I took advantage of having Saturday free and aside from visiting all parents resident in Sussex I did some shopping…

- LBD & foot massaging tights from M&S (I had ordered more but it was all horrid. The foot massaging tights are very comfy but still look horrid).

- Notepad from Paperchase (like I needed another notepad).

- Books for my writing course from Waterstones (so cheap compared to their Brussels store).

- Lovely, lovely novels from Waterstones.

- YSL Touche Éclat and Benefit mascara, eye liner and lipstick from Debenhams (I forgot my make up bag).

Brighton was looking sparkly in the sun but sadly the whole of South London seemed to have arrived for a day out so it was mega-crowded and I didn’t really want to stay long.

After rushing through the shops we headed up the A23 to The Plough at Pyecombe for a pub lunch (God, I miss them). Ben had gammon and I had a prawn sandwich and a pint. Miam.

Then we went to Tesco and home for a nap.

Travelling Woes

2009-10-13T18:00:00.000+02:00

Whenever I catch the Eurostar I end up in the carriage with the loud and irritating person. I’m not sure if this is because Eurostar like the spread these people out across all carriages to ensure maximum irritation for other passengers or if I’m just unlucky. This weekend I ended up with a dull, dull woman with a loud, loud voice who apparently “can never forgive the Tories”. Sometimes I wish I had some sort of astonishing political knowledge (I have no political knowledge) with which to force these people to SHUT UP!!!

I was cheered up when I noticed the serious looking guy sitting opposite me seemed to be wearing a tie with enormous ducks on it.

When we finally arrived back in The Hill I was relieved. Not because it’s nice; it’s not… I just really, really hate travelling in the UK and in particular, London. The walk to Bens parents house was only disturbed by what appeared to be the sound of monkeys howling in trees. On closer inspection it turned out to be the strange alarm on a car which was unfortunately positioned under our window.

The Good Thief’s Guide to Paris by Chris Ewan

2009-10-13T15:06:00.001+02:00

Until this year I hadn’t read a crime book since Nancy Drew (does that count as crime?). Since January I’ve gone a bit mad for them with a PD James, the first two Stieg Larsson ones and now The Good Thief’s Guide to Paris finished.

I am absolutely crap at guessing who is behind anything and I have to re-read paragraphs about fifteen times before I understand what’s happening but maybe with time this will improve. Anyway, onto the book…

The Good Thief’s Guide to Paris is Charlie Howards second outing as the mystery writer/thief in the title role. I’m not sure why I chose to buy this book rather than Amsterdam which was the first one but it didn’t really matter, everything was explained.

Charlie is hired to teach someone to break into an apartment and then hired by someone else to steal a painting from the same apartment the next day. Then a dead body appears in his living room. The rest of the book is the classic whodunit but with humour injected which really made a change from the usual depressing crime dramas that I go for.

I was pleased that I really enjoyed this book as I seem to spend so much time complaining about things in my one woman book club. The writing has a light tone and it is very funny which makes it so much more readable.

Of course I couldn’t get through a review without pointing out a problem and there’s a spelling mistake on page 193. Never mind though, it didn’t stop me enjoying the book so the rest must have been really good!

Touareg

2009-10-09T12:13:00.003+02:00

Last night Ben and I went to a Moroccan restaurant close to us called Touareg.

The walls of the restaurant are hung with a deep blue fabric which gives the impression of sitting inside a tent and incense permeates the air. It’s nice to go somewhere that has put so much thought into getting the atmosphere right, playing the right music and so on.

The website has menus on it in French, Dutch and English but they didn’t have any English menus in the restaurant. Another table asked for one, I like to struggle on in French and am rather good on everything except fish now. Oh, and I have a habit of mixing strawberries and raspberries up – unfortunate when I have an allergy to one and the other is my favourite fruit.

I ate the Zoubida which is a tagine with Lamb, Garlic, Potatoes and Coriander; Ben chose Les Délices de la Palmeraie which was lamb with prunes, onion, ginger and some nuts. Both meals were a good size and delicious. The food I’ve described is a little different to the menu – mine could have been made with beef as advertised but the waiter suggested that I may prefer lamb as it was more tender (it was very tender). The menu didn’t mention that Bens dish contained nuts but Belgians put nuts into everything so I wasn’t that surprised.

To drink we had a bottle of Gris de Boulaouane which is a dry Moroccan rosé which complimented our meals perfectly. The wine list contains suggestions of which wines go best with which dishes – something I like because I am a complete wine loser and always order Sauvignon Blanc or Pinot Grigio.

On a Thursday night the restaurant set out an all you can eat buffet for €20 which the waiter explained was all freshly prepared. It did look delicious and I look forward to going back again to try it out.

Looking through the menu it seems like they have at least one vegetarian option (the one I spotted was couscous with seven vegetables).

Touareg are part of the Resto Presto scheme. This is a home delivery scheme that we’ve used a version of in Brighton (I’ve got no idea what the Brighton one was called) and while I think it’s fairly pricey it is nice if you want to try somewhere a bit different but can’t be bothered to go out.

Touareg, Chaussée de Charleroi 80, 1060, Bruxelles
Tel: +32 (0)2/534.54.00
Email: info@letouareg.be
Open for lunch and dinner – closed Saturday lunch

Ooooh, un orage…

2009-10-08T13:25:00.001+02:00

There was a massive storm last night in Belgium. We had a lovely time watching lightning flash from the comfort of our sitting room. It got a little hairy at one point when the thunder appeared to be rumbling directly overhead but aside from deciding not to touch anything metal for a while it was fine. I get a little confused with electricity – am I a good or bad conductor of it and is that a good or bad thing to be?

I had a look on the news this morning and apparently a lane of motorway near Ghent caved in and in Zaventem (home to the airport, some Flemish people and I don’t know what else – their website is in Dutch) “a couple of streets turned into little rivers of mud” which sounds rather fun. I love the news site – they manage to take the drama out of everything when they translate to English. I can’t guarantee it was any more exciting in the original Dutch but it certainly looks exciting.

Elsewhere, in Schepdaal (home to a tram museum, I would link to Schepdaal’s website but it doesn’t work) a bus drove into the side of a car. They’re blaming this on the storm but, to be honest, I think it more likely that the car wasn’t paying attention to the terrifying “priorité à droite” rule and the bus decided to teach him a lesson.

The Mighty Glutton

2009-10-06T17:16:00.001+02:00

This, my friends, is the mighty Glutton.

The Glutton is my favourite thing about Brussels. I like it even more than the really short escalators at Metro stations which people still barge their way up – Belgians love a good barge.

I think it’s the fact that it’s got an English name which makes me love it so much. It seems to be Romanian in origin.

As the website says “The Glutton is to be found wherever there is waste to be picked up”. It laughs in the face of Brussels’ filthy streets. It also says “The city is breathing where the Glutton is cleaning” which makes less sense but I’m far too thrilled by the picture on the contact page to care.

I took these pictures on my I Phone and although I pretended I was sending a text I think the look of concentration and the fact that I was pointing my camera directly at the Glutton gave me away. I had to take two pictures as well – the first time it went behind a bin…

Sussed… He reminds me of Gus from Eastenders. I tried to find a picture of Gus at work, cleaning the streets of Walford, but with no luck. It wouldn’t have been the same – Gus didn’t have a Glutton.

The Tortured Writer

2009-10-05T20:53:00.001+02:00

I’ve recently signed up for a creative writing course. Since starting the blog I’ve really enjoyed writing it and as it’s not something I’ve done since leaving school I thought I might as well get some tips in – you should be grateful!! Through some rather clever faffing and procrastinating I managed to get a discounted subscription fee and felt that this was the sign that I’d been waiting for – the creative writing course was the one for me.

I’m waiting for the course books to be delivered at the moment and have that delicious feeling of anticipation that only comes from hearing the postman ring your bell while you’re in the shower and wondering what he was trying to deliver for the next 24 hours. If it’s not my course books it’s my last set of lunch vouchers and these are equally welcome if not half as exciting. I bet it’s the lunch vouchers.

I’ve been given my first assignment which is to write about a local event. Jolly good. What do I like doing more than anything else in the world ever? That’s right, going to the market. Youpi – now I get to go there and make notes.

The idea of the first assignment is for them to get an idea of your writing style (and skill). The problem is that when I write about the market I sound nothing like I do when I write normally. I get the feeling that this is maybe not what they’re after? However, I think the first draft sounds rather good and certainly more professional than anything I normally write.

So, do I continue with my travel writing about the market or do I find something that I can write about in my everyday style? Would it be wrong to write a whole piece about the cross-dressing tramp? Maybe I could interview him/her at a later date for the human interest module:

- So, erm… Mme. Valise… When did you decide to start dressing like une vielle dame?

- FAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!! mutter… mutter-mutter….

- Oh, ok then… Well, pip pip… Bon soirée old chap*

* Apparently, I’m rather posh when interviewing. Not sure where that came from.

Bruges, As Much As Anything

2009-10-04T17:48:00.002+02:00

We’ve been a little overwhelmed by visitors of late which means I’ve got behind with the old blogging. We should have the place to ourselves until Christmas now though so I have no excuses. Oh, except for our trip to England next weekend, that’ll set me back again.

I love having people to stay but sometimes it’s nice just to be able to curl up on your own and not have to think of new tourist attractions to stop yourself going insane visiting Mini Europe again and again and again.

First up we had Steve & Claw to stay. This was ages ago now though and apart from Mini Europe (which I love but don’t want to go to every weekend) and the stupid Mannekin Pis (which forms an integral part of everyone's visit for some reason – they don’t seem to be able to take my word for it that it’s shit. Usually they walk away saying “Really? That’s it?”).

Next, my mum and Ken came over and we visited Bruges (MUCH nicer than I expected). I have an unfortunate tendency to dismiss places before visiting them if I deem them to be “a bit touristy”. Bruges surprised me though, it was lovely. It reminded me a bit of Chichester and various little towns in The Cotswolds. I found it really strange after spending so long in Brussels to make the switch to English from French. Dutch was out of the question as I can only muster up about three phrases at the moment, none of which are the all important “excuse me”.

Then Steve came back for an evening and we spent some quality time getting hammered in the town centre.

Our final set of visitors left last night. One of them is pregnant and very sleepy at the moment so we spent a nice amount of time taking naps. We visited the Military Museum here in Brussels which was very good. It’s free to get in so I wasn’t expecting that much but the place is huge and the collections impressive – I believe they have a boat in there somewhere. At the moment they have an exhibition about animals used in war which was really interesting. Since the Military Museum seems to shut for lunch we also paid a visit to Autoworld which houses a huge collection of cars and is also worth a visit.

C’est Combien???

2009-09-28T18:20:00.001+02:00

When we were at the market a couple of weeks ago I understood all of the prices. At first I put this down to my Mum and Step-Dad being there (my French is noticeably better when we have visitors, I am keen to impress and show that I have achieved something in my time here since I find my progress mind-numbingly slow) but even when we headed off to the market this weekend on our own I still understood everything.

I just didn’t need to think about the numbers or translate them back to English in order to pay people. This was something that had been frustrating me and I am absolutely thrilled with my new skill. I would be completely lost in France no doubt as it seems that I have learnt Belgian numbers (oh, the shame).

This is probably the most significant development since I started to distinguish individual words in sentences (this makes life easier for Ben when I ask for a translation as I no longer just make a long stream of noises at him and just go for the sections of noise I don’t know).

It’s strange how I go along in my life, feeling frustrated about the lack of improvement in my French and then seemingly overnight I pick up a new skill. It’s nice this way, I feel a huge sense of achievement every now and then which makes all the struggling worthwhile.

My Latest Hobby

2009-09-22T16:27:00.001+02:00

I am completely obsessed with Immoweb, the Belgian equivalent of Rightmove. We’re not actually moving, I just like to look. I claim this is so I can practice my French (very few of the listings are translated) but really, I just like looking at other peoples houses.

I’m not sure if it’s the estate agents, the sellers or a mixture of the two but some of the pictures used in these adverts are amazing. When we moved here we visited a flat which had a huge stuffed bear in the lobby and crazy trompe l’oeil paintings all over the walls of the shared areas. I still kind of wish we’d taken it – it would have made an excellent talking point.

Here are some of my favourite finds today.

Creepy baby – not so much why is this in the photo but why is it on the wall?

I’d have just left this one out.

Interesting Mondrian Tiles going on here.

I think this is the worst bathroom in the world. Even I don’t need that much storage!

French Kissing by Catherine Sanderson

2009-09-16T17:45:00.001+02:00

Oh, bloody hell!! I wanted to like this book, didn’t think I would, quite enjoyed the first half and then ended up hating it.

I should explain a little for those of you who don’t know. Catherine Sanderson is better known as Petite Anglaise, a British blogger who lives in Paris. She’s pretty famous after getting sacked over her blog content and then landing a book deal. Her blog is actually the first one I ever read (I still read it today) – I have a long-standing obsession with the idea of living in Paris…

Firstly, I really like her blog – it is well written and entertaining. However, when I read her first book, Petite Anglaise (a memoir), I was disappointed. I assumed this was because I’m not a big fan of memoirs, especially when we already knew the story from her blog. Also, there was some kind of grammatical error that should have been picked up during editing that wound me up.

I had hoped that this book would be an improvement, sadly it wasn’t. I know that they say to write what you know but that doesn’t mean you should recycle your life story from after your first memoir and pass it off as a novel. The new book is about a single mum from Yorkshire who lives in Paris with her four year old daughter and looks for love online. There are some major differences but as a regular follower of her blog I felt that the story was quite obviously recycled. I’m sure I’d read some of the dialogue on her blog before now as well.

The conversations felt stilted, the main character was self-righteous, the other characters lacking in any depth and how many times did she need to mention that the character was in her early thirties? This just emphasised the fact that she’s based this character on herself.

One thing that I did enjoy about both of the books is the descriptions of Paris. Sanderson really makes the city come alive with her writing (I still want to live in Paris, sigh).

This book really wound me up partly because I’d paid €13.00 for it in rip of Brussels Waterstones and partly because there are a lot of talented writers out there who struggle to get books published and along comes Sanderson and gets a book deal despite dubious talent for writing anything longer than 500 words.

If you enjoy those Shopaholic books then you’ll probably like this – the plot is about as obvious. I wouldn’t bother buying it though, just read her blog instead.

Rant over.

L’Automne

2009-09-15T18:48:00.001+02:00

Autumn has arrived in Belgium. Over the past week I’ve noticed the temperature drop and seen some golden leaves in the gutters of Avenue Louise. Yesterday there was a heavy downpour just as I left the office for the evening. I was soaked but not unhappy. I came home, changed out of my wet clothes into a cosy jumper and did my best to salvage the mascara that was working it’s way down my cheeks. I’m sure I will be wishing the rain away shortly but I’m looking forward to our first Winter living together in Brussels.

When we first visited Brussels it had been snowing and the temperature was hovering somewhere around -9°C. We spent the weekend walking around a large area of southern Brussels, viewing flats and stopping occasionally to thaw out our frozen bodies in cafés. I’m hoping for the same this year. I want to see the places that we didn’t see on our first visit under a blanket of snow, I also want to be able to snuggle up on our sofa and watch the snow fall on our roof terrace and beyond.

In the meantime though, I look forward to putting on a warm cardigan, some boots and possibly a scarf and finding some leaves to kick up.

Crystal Maze a la Belgique

2009-09-14T22:14:00.001+02:00

I can’t believe I forgot to tell you about this…

This is what happens when you cross The Crystal Maze, Fort Boyard and Belgium.

Ben had a team building day with his colleagues at Fort Adventure. This dude was the Maître (master). I think my favourite thing about him is the Arran jumper he’s wearing under his rags. Apparently he was very scary in real life.

Ben showed me pictures of the whole day and aside from the red boiler suits (just pictured) that the maître forced them to wear it reminds me of a particularly unhappy school trip I once took. I was forced to walk along ropes between trees and canoe. I have no hand eye coordination. It was horrible. I got stuck in the middle of the lake. Ugh. Oh god, I just remembered – we had to sleep in tents. Shudder…

Fort Adventure seemed much more civilised, they had champagne before they had to do anything scary and some of it was indoors which is a big plus for me. Also, it only lasted half a day so they could head off for a barbeque before any lasting damage was done.

Seriously, I think this guy may beat the Mini Europe tortue as my favourite Belgian.

The Lost Book of Salem by Katherine Howe

2009-09-13T21:38:00.001+02:00

The Lost Book of Salem is spread over several time periods, from 1681 onwards and details the Salem witchcraft trials.

The main plotline, set in 1991, features Connie, a Harvard student of history who spends her summer holiday clearing out her grandmothers cottage for sale near Salem, Massachusetts. While sorting out some books she finds a slip of paper with the name Deliverance Dane written upon it. This begins a search for details of the mysterious Deliverance Dane through a variety of New England archives and, after discovering that she was an accused witch, a further search for her spell book, which has been mentioned in the records.

I almost always enjoy historical novels and, while I’ve always wondered about this period in history, I’ve never bothered to research it. I was pleased that the author decided to base this book upon the idea that witchcraft did exist, if not in the form that most people would necessarily think of it. The author has obviously put a lot of work into researching the time period of the flashbacks and this shows – I felt as if the historical sections really came to life with their descriptions of dress, housing and social customs.

I have a few complaints about this book. Near the start, when Connie claims not to have known her grandmother and then occasionally over the next twenty pages or so reminisces about the times she spent with her.

Another problem for me was that I found the plot a little obvious. I don’t think it was meant to be a huge surprise but some suspense would have made it more interesting.

Finally, I found that the hunt for the spell book was a little forced in some parts. For example, Connie is told that the book may have been sold on a certain date and from then on it is taken as certain that the book was sold then.

All in all these are minor complaints and I would still recommend this book. I found it entertaining and the pace was just right. This would be an ideal for reading on the beach or for curling up with on a rainy Sunday. It’s not overly taxing but it’s not a fluffy chick-lit either.

If you enjoyed the style of this book you might like to try books by Victoria Hislop or Kate Mosse both of whom write books with both modern and historical aspects.

Laura’s Book Club

2009-09-13T20:57:00.001+02:00

I’ve decided to branch out with a new blog category.

I spend a lot of time reading so I thought it would be fun to review my recent finds. I’m an incredibly picky reader (maybe a career in editing would suit me?) so be prepared, I will be pointing out spelling and grammar mistakes (yes, I know, people in glass houses blah blah blah…) and picking holes in flimsy plotlines. I will attempt to be nice as well but complaining just comes so much more naturally to me.

If you’ve read any good books recently then please feel free to recommend them, either in the comments box or by email. I’ll read pretty much any type of book although given my distaste for mistakes and gaping plot holes please avoid recommending Dan Brown.

I’ve added a list of my upcoming reads to the left-hand column so I feel forced to read those books rather than getting distracted by anything newer I may have bought. I’m like an ADHD book magpie.

J’aaaaaiiii Maaaaal

2009-09-12T16:55:00.001+02:00

I’ve found something which is easier to do in Belgium than in England!!!

It turns out that going to the doctors here is really straightforward – I was not expecting that.

You just turn up and wait. No need to make an appointment, no need to register. The doctor gave me a prescription, a receipt for my mutuelle (social insurance thingy – we pay to see the doctor and get a prescription but then get most of it reimbursed) and a sick note for work.

Ah yes, I knew it couldn’t be that simple. You need a doctors note for even one day off sick. In England you can sign yourself off for up to one week before you need to see the doctor. I’d feel a bit silly going to the doctor with a migraine or a short-lived virus. I guess they’re used to it.

I’d managed to choose a doctor in the middle of the ghetto (Phil and Kirstie would describe our commune as up and coming). I presume the hoodies hanging round outside were enough to put most patients off as we were the only people in the waiting room.

Along with the painkillers I’d requested (I’ve got a bad back – NOT SWINE FLU) the doctor also provided some mysterious tablets which are either to help me sleep or to make my muscles sleep. I chose not to ask the doctor for specifics as I quite liked the idea of my muscles having a little nap.

Even picking up prescriptions from the pharmacy is easy here. There are so many of them (at least three within 100 metres of my house) that you don’t have to queue.

Now I just need to get my ID card so I can get a mutuelle and claim my €30.24 back.

Belgian Surrealism Finally Seeps into my Brain

2009-09-11T12:43:00.001+02:00

Another night, another crazy dream.

A vintage car (UM, if you are reading – I think it might have been your car?*) was pulling a metro which was actually a set of theme park ride seats and at one point a normal train which then proceeded to turn into a single line of metal going round a model train track. As I pulled out of stations (on the normal train/metal line of death) we saw that loads of the mad replacement metros had come off the rails. I remember discussing with the lady next to me how Belgium had gone too far this time. Everyone was English in the dream, strangely.

Then I was doing some kind of assault course in a jungle, swinging from rope to rope. I was going really high up as I swung though and got quite scared.

Next, I was watching TV and an advert came on for a sale at Paperchase which I got excited about and made Ben promise to take me to. Then I woke up and realised they don’t have Paperchase in Belgium. Waaaaa… Oh god, I miss Paperchase.

* Important detail for interested parties.

Another Dream. No Less Crazy.

2009-09-10T20:37:00.001+02:00

It’s been a while since the last crazy-ass dream. Now I actually do some work for a living I find that I tend to dream about that which is incredibly boring.

For the past week though I’ve been having quite a disturbing dream about choking on chewing gum. I’ve taken it as some kind of premonition of what will happen next time I do chew and have decided to avoid it. This is no great hardship, I’ve had the same packet on the go in my handbag since we moved to Belgium. It’s chlorophyll flavour which is what makes trees green. Tastes nice too as long as you’re not choking on it.

Last night in addition to choking my dream also featured a catwalk (damn you ANTM) and one of those long tubes made up of a bunch of buckets that builders chuck rubbish down. The rubbish tube was quite stressful actually because it seemed to be filled with water and was leaking strangely. I remember being quite angry about it as it was interfering with my having a bath. God knows why.

I thought sleep was meant to be restful?

HTML Pour Les Nuls

2009-09-09T21:31:00.001+02:00

Ah, that’s better. Our blog looks so much less slimy now.

Ben had the final say in the design which was probably a good thing. I did want to have a snail theme at one point.

Concerns were raised over my ability to choose and install the new layout (do you install a layout? What is the terminology?) since I seem to be lacking in the appropriate skills (along with various other skills required for day to day life). Ben had to explain the following to me:

- How writing in HTML makes pictures appear. I am still a little hazy on this but impressed, nonetheless.

- That it is called an RGB colour code, not an RPG. Apparently RGB stands for Red Green Blue. Amaaaaazing. Does RPG stand for anything?

Please pay particular attention to the label cloud. Notice how the blues compliment both each other and the background perfectly. Hurray for RGB in all it’s primary colour mixing glory.

Anyway, I’m off to celebrate my success in a more old school fashion with a cup of tea and a book.

Le P’tit Weekend

2009-09-07T20:33:00.007+02:00

Now, lets get back to my list of criteria for the perfect trip (complete with traffic light coding system):

Visit New Country	Luxembourg (well, drove through it)
See Snow	Saw the Alps – no snow, sadly
See Cows	Sooooo many cows
Drive Through Tunnel Under Mountain	There’s a bloody great tunnel going right through the middle of Lyon – beat that Brussels!
See Little Yellow Train	Nooooooooo! Saw the TGV though…

We had a great weekend, even if we only spent one day in Narbonne.

Friday was spent lying to the car hire people about only wanting to go as far as Liege (I wasn’t sure if we were allowed to export their car for a few days), driving through some kind of monsoon which reached as far as Dijon, sitting in rush hour traffic in Lyon (which looked amazing – I want to go back) and hitting my foot repeatedly on the gigantic fire extinguisher in the foot well of the crappest car on earth (my feet provide a handy sizing guide – I doubt the car could have given off enough fire to use the whole thing). 12 hours later, we arrived.

Saturday was great though. We pottered about the market, lazed on the beach and then went out for Japanese/Vietnamese food which was yummy. I managed to eat a whole meal with chopsticks (the waiter laughed and asked if I wanted cutlery, I said non! I need to learn!) - anyone who knows how clumsy and pathetically left handed I am should be impressed. Miam miam miam.

Sunday was sadly spent back in the car. This time the journey was quicker, but no less depressing. Sadly, I have an overwhelming need to live near some form of water. The rain in Brussels just doesn’t cut it. I either need the sea, a pool or at the very least a nice river. The city of Brussels decided to cover their river up and use it as a sewer. Not impressed. Admittedly, when we lived in Brighton I spent six months complaining and visited the beach twice. What I really need is a beach with some sand and a hot climate.

Today was spent in our town hall. My long awaited audience with the fonctionnaires was at lunchtime. Obviously Belgium welcomed me with open arms – slightly more so than expected because I brought additional papers to those requested (you want the lyrics to La Brabançonne written in the blood of Axelle Red? Mais oui, I brought that just in case) and I spoke in French to them (in Brussels, while they will talk to each other in English to avoid having to speak the other national language, they do not like speaking it to the English who should really learn French. Surely everyone should be able to speak French, non?)*. Anyway, with only minimal paper shuffling, I was on my way with the promise of a return trip to collect my shiny new ID card in two to three weeks. Youpi!

* To be fair, the people who work in my commune have always seemed at least moderately happy to speak to me in English. I appreciate that I am in their country and really should expect to speak in their language but it’s soooo difficult and they’re all soooo good at English. See, Belgium, I like you really – that was a compliment.

Je Suis Très Fatigué

2009-09-03T11:53:00.006+02:00

It’s amazing how quickly being in full time work has made me miss my previously free and easy existence (in which I did precisely nothing, save for the occasional coffee with friends). I think I like being a working girl again, it's just taking a lot of getting used to at the moment. I did enjoy receiving my first payslip and also my meal vouchers (in Belgium you get €6 per day to spend on food if you work).

I’ve not blogged for a while as I’ve not had much to say, I thought that I would wait rather than just write anything. However, I feel a bit guilty about it and as I can’t pull myself together and create my “list of unacceptable qualities in friends, boyfriends and acquaintances” I am just going to write anything. I will write the list, eventually.

The following things are on my mind at the moment:

1. I’m not 100% sure I like the layout of the blog. Or the colours. I may need to rethink the design. Do not be alarmed if it changes at anytime in the next year or so. I will probably procrastinate a little.

2. There is a new tramp outside our supermarket. He is a transvestite who wears old lady clothes and a black wig. He listens to big earphones and shouts “FUCK” at Ben. I think he might have killed the one legged guy with no voice who was there before. He scares me.

3. How come my French vocab has now reached the point where neither Ben nor Harrap, the dictionaire, know the translations I ask for but I still can’t get a sentence out in this damned language? French, not English. Although, my grasp of the English language is questionable. I think I’ll go to Waterstones and buy myself a new dictionary this afternoon (means walking past the tranp though). Oh, maybe a new book too.

4. There are some parrots in the tree out the back of our flat. LOOK!!! I am so confused.

5. Ben has a new camera so at some point I should really post some of the pictures he’s taken of our neighbourhood. While I spend my time behind a camera snorting with laughter and taking pictures of vomiting tramps and amusing shop displays; Ben takes pictures which highlight the beauty of Brussels (and in particular, Saint Gilles – where we live). He does occasionally give in to my demands though:

You can now do Segway tours of Brussels. I like the little Japanese lady the best though. She is how I imagine Claudia’s Nan, Mimi, from The Babysitters Club to look (does anyone else remember those books?). Not pictured: me squealing with horror at being within 500 metres of the Manneken Pis, my most hated tourist attraction in Belgium.

Well, that’s all for now. We’re off to France for the weekend so maybe that will throw up something for me to blog about. If not, apparently making a list has helped me come up with a few topics… Exciting stuff.

Andorre

2009-08-04T18:50:00.002+02:00

On holiday I had one of the best days of my life EVER! Here is a checklist of my best day ever criteria:

Visit New Country	Andorra
See Snow	A little patch high up a mountain
See Cows	Many cows seen
Drive Through Tunnel Under Mountain	Toll tunnel – even better
See Little Yellow Train	Saw and got waved at by passengers

God, I love a list. Maybe I should explain a little.

The visiting a new country thing doesn’t need an explanation does it? Surely, everyone loves to do that? Ken (step dad, did I tell you this already? I like people with three letter names ending in –en, my mum has one too) visited two new countries on holiday as he’d somehow managed to avoid France for his whole life.

Cows and snow are two of my favourite things and if seen require a cry of either “COWS!!!” or “SNOW!” (snow gets only the one exclamation mark as it is lower down the list of favourite things).

Again, tunnels are something of a novelty for me. Even the Southwick tunnel can raise a squeal of delight (it’s not an exciting tunnel, merely going under a fairly average hill). While researching this post (yes, I research. What do you mean you couldn’t tell?) I discovered that apparently there is a secret military installation in it.

The Petit Train Jaune is something I have been obsessed with for over two years now. It travels from Perpignan over the Pyrenees to Andorra. Hopefully, Ben and I will manage to go skiing this winter and if we do I hope to go to Andorra so we can get there via the little yellow train (and the big TGV the rest of the way from here). I hope that the excitement of the yellowness will help me overcome my natural aversion to every single form of transport that I’m not controlling.

Anyway, Andorra was very pretty and I enjoyed the drive up there but was disappointed that it was not as cheap as I’d been promised. We did get given a free bottle of vodka though which was nice.

On a final holiday-recounting note, I seem to be stalked by Jehovah's Witnesses in Europe. First there was the strange English man who called round to see us. Then, in France some others arrived at the flat and although I panicked and spoke to them in English they still invited me to a prayer meeting. I declined politely.

I’ve started a new job this week which has proved to be absolutely exhausting so far so you’ll have to excuse me if I’m a little quiet for a while since I have to adapt to getting up about four hours earlier. Yawn…

Me Comprends-Tu?

2009-07-30T17:43:00.001+02:00

So recently (this week) I’ve got into the habit of giving my posts French titles. It wasn’t deliberate, it just amused me. Anyway, I’ve decided to keep it up (apologies in advance for the frequent errors you can expect from here on in) as it’s good for me to practice and also you can learn along with me. Lucky you. I live to give.

It took me a long time to write the title of the last post as I was looking in the wrong side of the dictionary (just wait, it gets worse). Once I had confirmed that OWL = HIBOU I finally understood why there is an owl on the giant vending machine Hiboo Shop* in Gare du Midi. Then I spent a while pondering why it’s called the owl shop. It’s a vending machine, it’s open all night. Like an OWL!!!

All this translating has clearly destroyed precious brain cells.

*It’s spelt wrong because the Os are the eyes of the owl. Actually, it may be spelt right… I don’t remember. It’s also possible that the owl is not involved with the name at all.

J’aime Votre Hibou

2009-07-30T14:35:00.002+02:00

Yesterday, I was planning on writing a post about Carcassonne but I couldn’t really think of anything I wanted to say. So, um, if you wanted to hear about Carcassonne you could try Labyrinth and Sepulchre by Kate Mosse. Both are very good reads and provide some interesting historical information. My trip was not as exciting as the books.

While in Languedoc, we visited the castles of Quéribus & Peyrepertuse. The one to the left is Quéribus. Both were perched on top of hills in the middle of nowhere (although quite nearby, you could see one from the other) and I found that unless you knew what you were looking for they were rather difficult to spot as they blended in with the rocks. Both involved a loooong climb up some very slippery paths to reach them. Ben has the stability of a mountain goat so he was ok but I had some impractical shoes on (not uncommon) and struggled a bit.

While they are now set a fair distance into France, back in the day they were on the Spanish border (the border moved, not the castles) and provided an important defence. Now they serve to bring tourists into an otherwise fairly poor region. There is also a miellerie nearby which looks quite interesting, I don’t really know how to translate it… honey-ery? Do we have such things?

At Peyrepertuse we watched a falconry display which was absolutely brilliant against the mountainous backdrop. I didn’t understand a great deal of the commentary but I have learnt that Ural Owl is very difficult for a French person to say. It made me feel a bit better about butchering their language so frequently.

This is my favourite shot. I like that the owl looks like a celebrity on the brink who’s been papped one too many times. Like he’s going to throw a tub of baked beans at any second.

Putain, C’est Chaud*

2009-07-28T15:22:00.001+02:00

In Brussels I tend not to notice if my French has got any better. Because I don’t see an improvement on a daily basis I feel a little disheartened and think that I’m not getting anywhere. Going to France meant that I was able to see how much I had improved from when we were there last year. I was so shocked that I drove Ben mad asking him repeatedly if he thought I was much better. I could ask for things, understand menus & grasp what was happening in most situations. The thing that pleased me most though was that I could understand other peoples conversations when out and about.

After spending our first day on the beach we took a trip to Montpellier which was lovely but sooooo hot (I think we’ll go back in the autumn or winter).

On our way home we drove along a road in the countryside between Beziers and Narbonne (where we stayed) which had women sitting by the side of it at intervals of a couple of kilometres. At first we thought that maybe they were selling fruit or something but once we’d gone past one who definitely had no fruit and was wearing a bikini and tiny little shorts we weren’t so sure. Once we’d passed a middle aged eastern European in an acid yellow dress getting into someone's car we worked out that they were probably prostitutes. Good job we didn’t try to buy any fruit.

In the evening we went out to a restaurant nearby called Meli-Melo (it means mish-mash) for Ben’s birthday. This is one of my favourite restaurants in Narbonne as the food is excellent and they serve my favourite Muscat (Saint Jean de Minervois, a local brand). The restaurant looks a bit like a really cool junk shop with old chairs covered in leopard print, handmade ornaments and beautiful bedspreads used as table cloths (I’m making it sound horrible, you’ll just have to trust me). All of the furniture is for sale which makes it interesting to go back in there and see what has changed from trip to trip. Previously, I saw some giant wooden chickens on wire legs which Ben was grateful I couldn’t have got home.

* Fuck, it’s hot. This was the first time I’d understood French while eavesdropping. It’s opened up a whole new world to me.

Holiday pt. I – Beer Tents & Baby Poo

2009-07-27T23:12:00.001+02:00

After a lovely trip to England with the south of France sandwiched rather weirdly into the middle we’re back home in Brussels. I missed it while we were away but found it a little strange coming back last night. I suppose that as I’ve not been here that long spending two weeks away is quite a long time in the scheme of things. On our walk back from the station I saw a jogger pick up and examine a calendar which had been discarded at the roadside and today I nearly got run over so Belgium is it’s usual self. I’ll do a few posts about our trip as we packed a fair bit in.

When we first arrived back in England we went to the Ardingly Vintage & Classic Vehicle Show which is held each year in a village close to where I grew up. My family go every year but this was the first time we’d taken Ben with us. There’s a wide variety of stuff there but as it was raining we mainly stuck close to the beer tent.

Here I am hovering near the Morris dancers clutching a plastic cup of wine. There was a band playing and (as he knows everyone in Sussex) my step dad recognised the accordionist from work. There was also a lot of beer – GO CAMRA!

After the rain got too much we spent the evening with Bens family and I discussed the joys of catching baby poo in your hands. That’s set the broodiness back another couple of years.

OMG – It’s The Ommegang

2009-07-04T15:33:00.001+02:00

It’s at this time of year that Brussels likes to get medieval on our arses.

Ommegang is the name given to most medieval pageants in Belgium. Our one commemorates the coming of Emperor Charles V to Brussels in 1549. For three days the Place du Grand Sablon is transformed into a medieval village with cannons, fighting and a lot of dressing up. In the evening there is a parade down to the Grand Place.

Ben took this shot from the Grand Place which I rather liked. It was looking especially golden in the sun.

A Design Classic?

2009-06-26T14:42:00.001+02:00

Can you guess what this is? I know it’s not a very good picture… I’ll give you a clue – Ben despairs of me.

It is our new toilet soap thingy. You know, the thing you clip onto the rim of your loo.

In my bid to only buy cute looking things for our flat I have found an Alessi toilet rim soap thingy. We now have two little men kayaking around our loo.

While I’m sure they are available in England, I’ve never seen them so I’m going to add this to the list of things I love about Belgium. HURRAY FOR BELGIUM!!!!

Alessi has to be one of my favourite design brands. I can honestly say that if someone* were to buy me anything at all from them I would love it.

* Ben, this someone is YOU!

Little Dogs Freak Me Out

2009-06-25T11:07:00.001+02:00

I warned you there would be more weird dreams. Here is one from the night before last…

I was on a ship and wanted to help them fix their swimming pool; I think it needed a new pump or something. It was all very serious. The captain (who may or may not have been Dr Strangelove) wouldn’t let me give them a new pump - I had a spare in my bag – because of maintenance costs or something. Anyway, for some reason I had to take out a mortgage on the swimming pool.

I went off to see my girlfriend (I was a boy, she was Shannon from Lost but more like she was in Taken – even more stupid and wearing that denim jacket that offends my eyes and was one of the reasons I hated the film so much).

We went off hunting with my vampire friends. Did I mention I was a vampire? Shannon wasn’t though and she turned her face into the face of a Jack Russell so they wouldn’t bite her. I think we were all a bit magical.

Afterwards we went to see her Dad and his little white dog and the doorbell rang. He said it would be the dog’s trainer so I went and let her in. When she bathed the dog in beer I became suspicious and decided that she probably wasn’t the trainer. I went to tell the dad but I couldn’t really speak (Aaaauuurgh!). He went and saw her but decided that she was the trainer but she’d changed her face by magic for reasons that might have been explained if I hadn’t woken up. I wasn’t convinced.

She started showing the dad these new tricks she’d taught the dog, except that, as she wasn’t a trainer, she hadn’t. Instead she was sort of attacking me with an Andrex puppy puppet and getting the dog to jump up and scrabble his paws around in my hair…

At this point Ben woke me up as I was breathing too much. Thank God!

I now add a fear of little dogs scrabbling in my hair to my list of irrational fears: Electrocution from using my mobile in the bath & being stabbed in the back of the knee. Not at the same time – that would just be weird.

C’EST LA GUERRE!!!

2009-06-21T15:04:00.001+02:00

We left the safety of Brussels today for the wilds of Braine l’Alleud to watch the reconstruction of the Battle of Waterloo. It was our first trip outside of Brussels since we moved here and we were impressed with how easy it was to catch a train and how pleasant the train ride was.

Braine l’Alleud didn’t strike me as the most interesting town but it is a Sunday and nowhere in Belgium is any good on a Sunday so I will withhold judgement until I visit again. We walked for about 20 minutes through mostly residential roads to the battleground and it seemed nice but not much more…

The Battle of Waterloo took place on Sunday 18th June 1815 between the forces of the French Empire and the Seventh Coalition which was made up of Prussia, UK, United Netherlands, Hanover, Nassau and Brunswick (in modern terms the countries of Germany, UK, The Netherlands and Belgium). Napoleons defeat in this battle ended his rule as French Emperor.

The reconstruction itself was interesting but a little crowded (we have numerous pictures of the backs of people’s heads). If we went again I think we would book early and get grandstand seats – the extra cost would be well worth it. It was a shame that it was raining as it meant that we weren’t so keen to hang around.

I didn’t fancy walking up the 200-odd steps to the top of the lion but on a nicer day the view would be great from up there. In the Hameau du Lion (Lion Hamlet) there was a selection of bars and restaurants which looked nice along with about three museums, one of which provided a 360° painting of the battle complete with dead horses:

One of my favourite sights of the whole day has to be this: “Belgium Old & New Meet Avec Une Bise”

I’m still not used to seeing men kiss each other in greeting. It doesn’t happen that often in Brussels but today I saw it quite a few times. I like it, I just find it very surprising every single time!

On our way home we were serenaded on the metro by a man playing “Careless Whisper” on his accordion. Ah Belgium, you never fail to delight me!

I Spy… Brussels Style

2009-06-17T21:30:00.001+02:00

Today I went out and what did I see:

- A man in his forties walking along my street reading one of the Twilight books. I feel he was old enough to know better.

- A beggar wearing clothes in a similar colour and style to me. He did not pull it off as well as me though – that red vest and cords look is hard to master.

- Five policemen taking pictures of a car.

- Only one man in red trousers. Usually there are more. They are the style staple of the older Belgian male.

- Some working Metro signs. I nearly fell over. They haven’t worked since April.

- An old man who chose to sit right next to me in an otherwise empty metro station.

- Someone speaking French with a thick Irish accent.

- A Belgian Gene Hunt out for lunch with a man bag.

The First In A Long Line Of Posts About Weird Dreams

2009-06-17T13:54:00.001+02:00

I have incredibly strange dreams. Since I love hearing about other peoples dreams I have decided that, clearly, you will all want to know about mine too. This dream is pretty normal for me, I’m expecting stranger ones to follow.

Firstly, do you like my dreamy grey writing? I think it sets the tone nicely.

I had started French lessons. I scored zero on a test and was quite upset. Marcus from Big Brother was there, he also got zero but didn’t seem bothered. The teacher wrote a bunch of comments and corrections on my test in German and Spanish so maybe she didn’t speak French either. This thought cheered me up a little until I realised that this meant I might be going to the wrong class.

If anyone would like to make up a “dream translation” for me please feel free. I have my theories about what it means but it amuses me to hear what other people think too.

Also, please tell me about your dreams in the comments.

Big Brother 10

2009-06-16T15:36:00.000+02:00

Now, I’m not one to let a little thing like moving to a different country get in the way of my Big Brother fixation. Since I have nobody to talk to about this years contestants I am going to put my opinions out there on the interweb. Sorry if this is all a bit random, I’m a couple of days behind and I made some strange notes while watching the last couple of shows (I am very dedicated).

Angel – 35, Boxer, London – I quite like Angel. She is a bit mental but interesting. I was amused last night that she seemed to be shaving her face. Apparently she fancies someone in the house – I cannot wait to find out who.

Beinazir – 28, Study Support Assistant, London – I was sad to see Beinazir leave first, I felt that she would have been a lot more interesting to watch than some of the other people (Sophie). EVICTED!

Cairon – 18, Student, London – I have yet to decide about Cairon. I like his ever changing accent (he was raised in America but is British – think American drawl with an “innit” on the end of every sentence). I like the fact that he stands up for himself.

Charlie – 22, Customer Service Advisor, Newcastle – Charlie is potentially the campest man on the planet. He’s very funny and I think he will be one of the finalists. He seems totally pissed off about Kris and Sophie's relationship and hopefully he will form an alliance with Karly.

Freddie/Halfwit – 23, Web Programmer, Market Drayton – I find it hard to hate him but I also find him very difficult to watch. I think his new name suits him rather well (he and Sophie changed their names by deed poll to become housemates). Most of the time I just feel a little bit sorry for him. I’m a little confused about his obsession with only wearing a towel to support Noirin during her hunger strike – even when she called it off he said he would still wear his towel to show support.

Karly – 21, Model, Fife – I thought I would hate her but she actually seems alright. It’s a shame that she looks like such a bitch. I preferred her with brown hair but never mind. I particularly like her accent when she goes off on one as she seems to get almost comically Scottish. She’s endearingly stupid – I liked her theories on why the English and German languages were similar.

Kris – 24, Visual Merchandiser, Manchester – I knew that he would spell his name with a K. Obviously, I like his hair. I find his relationship with Sophie really boring – I don’t really want to watch 5 minutes of a duvet moving at the end of the show.

Lisa – 41, Unemployed, Birmingham – I liked her to start with but she seems to have turned into a total bitch in the last couple of days. Potential house psycho.

Marcus – 35, Carpenter/Glazier, Brentford – He’s probably one of my favourites. He seems to have an strangely high opinion of himself. When he was listing the things he liked about the housemates he forgot to tell Sree what he liked about him which made me laugh.

Noirin – 25, Retail Manager, Dublin – Poor Noirin, she hasn’t had the best start to her life in the house what with having to draw glasses on her shmoo every day. On top of this she is being stalked around the house by Sree. She doesn’t stand a chance. I hope she gets less boring soon.

Rodrigo – 23, Student, Manchester – I love him. He is my favourite. I have nothing further to say about him.

Saffia – 27, Beauty Consultant, Nottingham – I thought she said in her VT that she was a dental nurse? I cannot stand anything about this woman. I think it has a lot to do with her smug face but there is more to it than that. She started fights with Sophia and then managed to twist it round so Sophia got the blame for them. She was a nasty little cow and I’m glad she’s gone. I can’t believe she blamed her leaving on missing her kids when obviously it was all about Kris and Sophia. RAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! WALKED!

Siavash – 23, Events Organiser, London – I think he may be the coolest person I have ever seen.

Sophia – 26, Banking, Herne Hill – I’m sad she’s gone. I think that she could have been really good to watch and it’s a shame that Saffia tried to argue with her and lost and then made Sophia look aggressive. She seemed fairly down to earth. EVICTED!

Sophie/Dogface – 20, Model, Cheshire – She’s sweet enough but so boring. I really hate it when girls with ridiculous boob jobs wear bikinis that don’t fit – is this meant to look good? Ah, she wants Botox when she’s 21 – WTF??? Am I the only person who doesn’t think she’s pretty? She looks like one of those dogs I want to kick. Yawn.

Sree – 25, Hatfield, Business Student – He makes my skin crawl, Creeeeeepy. Manipulative. Nasty. If I was in the house I would have lost my temper with him by now. I wish Noirin would tell him where to go rather than just humouring him all the time. Oh, but if she did that he would cry AGAIN. I sometimes fast-forward through the Sree sections of the show.

Shopping and Exams

2009-06-15T16:31:00.004+02:00

Due to overwhelming demand here is a post about shopping and exams.

The exam went ok but I don't think I passed. I'm probably not cut out for the exciting world of tax accounting. Never mind, I will resit in December if needs be.

After the exam I had a lovely lunch with my exam buddy. We went to Wetherspoons and marvelled at the cheapness of everything. We were particularly taken by the burger and beer for under a fiver. I made the mistake of drinking Fosters when I have become used to Belgian beers. I used to like it so thanks Belgium; you ruined that one for me. However the burger was delicious and I enjoyed dipping my chips in mayonnaise and feeling rather continental. "Miam" I cried, adding to the effect I think.

Hurrah! Shopping time! I was disappointed not to find anything I liked in Topshop (apart from some impractical shoes) so I just bought a couple of vests because you can never have enough. I also got a beach bag and beach dress thingy from Gap.

I was pleased to visit the new Esprit shop in Brighton (and even more pleased to find that it was cheaper than in Brussels) and particularly enjoyed being stalked around the shop by an over-eager greeter (I don't know what their official term is). He was particularly amusing as each time he spoke to me he didn't seem to recognise me from the last time despite asking if I needed help about four or five times. I bought a sundress:

When I got my dress home Ben asked if I didn't already own this item. After checking I could confirm that I didn't, I just have a lot of skirts with a similar print:

I spent ages in Get Cutie which is a great independent shop selling the most beautiful locally made dresses in really interesting prints. As they didn't have my favourite dress in my size they are having it made up for me. How exciting!!! This is what I have chosen (it looks much better in real life):

After all the excitement of Brighton town centre we headed off to Hove to scare my brother and take advantage of his staff discount in Tesco. I stocked up on PG Tips, Shreddies and various treats.

On my trip back home I noticed that they seem to be opening a Krispy Kreme shop in Gatwick Airport. I cannot even begin to tell you how much I am looking forward to flying out of there next month. I am praying that the empty shop at the top of Avenue Louise will also become a Krispy Kreme store if my first choice of Marks & Spencer/KFC/Starbucks hybrid doesn't come to fruition.

Go Metro!

2009-06-14T12:20:00.002+02:00

Instead of providing any sort of interesting information about my one day trip to England I’ve decided to discuss trains with you. I much prefer the public transport in Belgium to the UK. Obviously, if you would really like to hear about my exam and subsequent shopping trip I will be happy to enlighten you - today being Sunday I will have little else to do.

I made the mistake of travelling home from England on Wednesday in the middle of the tube strike. Trying to get onto an already full four carriage train with a suitcase you can barely lift and a bunch of other tired holiday makers is NOT FUN. I would like to thank my mum at this point for making me change into sensible shoes and not get my be-flip-flopped feet crushed under my own and other people’s bags.

My favourite part of this journey was when the horrible rude nasty woman next to me discussed loudly with her husband whether or not to have a sip of Ribena as she was worried about spitting. I didn’t fully understand – did she mean dribbling or missing her mouth or something? I also liked it when someone dropped a suitcase on her foot.

My mum and I have quite a good arrangement whereby she drops me at Gatwick Airport on her way to work and I get the train up to London. Unfortunately she dropped me off about four hours before my Eurostar this week. I had dressed fairly sensibly in a cardigan and jeans so I don’t understand how both the airport and St Pancr(e)as station could be so cold that I was shivering. Is it normal to arrive at these places with a scarf and coat in June? Come to think of it, the Eurostar is also always freezing too. This is quite a shock to me after spending the past three months sweating in the lovely warm Brussels metro.

Once back in Brussels I was relieved to discover that the metro was as surreal as ever.

In the stations they seem to always play a strange mix of music. Nobody seems to know who chooses the music – it’s not the radio, maybe they just have a rota for bringing CDs from home. I don't know if the same music is in every station either. They play Amy Macdonald’s “Mr Rock & Roll” quite often and Ben came home singing another of her songs on Friday so I presume they have broadened their selection a little. I’m not complaining; I like her music. I had a little sing along to “Personal Jesus” by Depeche Mode the other day.

This week there seemed to be an electrical problem at one of the stations and it was announced that the trains would not be stopping there. They did stop though and on my first trip past people got off without any trouble. On our way back though when the train stopped and people got off they were then herded back on again through a secret door at the end of our carriage. Weird.

Most amusingly of all, when we were waiting for our metro home a girl on the other platform got her head stuck in a train door. Apparently they don’t have sensors like in London. She seemed ok once the driver finally opened the door off her. I’ve never seen anything half as amusing on the London Underground.

Sunday Bloody Sunday*

2009-06-06T22:07:00.008+02:00

I was born in 1984 and as such I don’t remember a time in England when shops didn’t open on Sundays. I think they also open on Bank Holidays. I should point out that although I could have done, I didn’t go shopping every Sunday – it was just nice to have the option there. Actually, I did go to the supermarket on a Sunday quite often (usually I would arrive sometime after four and be greatly confused when they were shut – “but you’re 24 hours” I would cry).

I am completely lost in Brussels. What is one meant to do on this day when nothing opens? I have taken to going to the market at Gare du Midi on Sunday mornings because it’s a bit like a big open air Tesco but with more tasters. It has been a success – I love the market. When we went back to England recently I was upset on Sunday morning that I was missing the market.

Anyone who either has a keen interest in fashion or who I wish to impress should look away now. The next part is not pretty.

I warned you! I love the market so much that I have bought a Granny Trolley. In my defence, a lot of people here have them and not all of those people look weird. At least it’s not tartan… Ben refuses to pull the trolley while in public but has decided that he can live with being seen with me pulling it which is something.

* Naming this post after a U2 song has nearly killed me. Sadly it was the best name I could think of. I still hate you Bono; you and your face.

Shopping Saturday

2009-06-06T17:20:00.006+02:00

On a Saturday there is nothing the people of Brussels like better than taking a trip to City 2 and Rue Neuve for some shoppy-shopping. I don't really share their enthusiasm for this as we do not have Topshop. Also, they seem to repeat a lot of the shops. There are definitely two Zaras, two H&Ms, and two Promods (UK readers, Promod is basically a French Zara, they deliver to the UK but have no shops there, I like it very much). Another reason for my dislike is that it reminds me of the Whitgift Centre in Croydon due to it's complicated layout (less chavs though).

The one saving grace of City 2 is that it has a Fnac. Fnac is like a combination of HMV, PC World and Waterstones which on their own are some of my favourite shops, obviously a combination of them is even better. We went here today and both came away happy with some new purchases (Red Xbox Controller and game for Ben, Bookssss for Laura).

We then headed off to De Broukere where rumours had been flying round about a newly opened Lush store. These turned out to be true and I enjoyed my time there watching the Belgians peering in, wondering what it was (it does look a bit like a greengrocers from the outside). Ben doesn't like the smell of Lush so rushed me around the place and we left empty handed.

On our way home we spotted this happy chappy:

My mum likes this man, she thinks he looks like a lion (I think this is him anyway, I phoned her to ask what his name was and she said something different. She's not so good with names though so I'll take the risk). Personally, I don't think I want Ben to smell like a rugby player. I also noticed that Rafael Nadal is advertising a Lanvin fragrance:

I just think maybe this one would smell better, no?

Woe Is Me

2009-06-05T14:24:00.004+02:00

I've been feeling a little down this week. Nothing serious, just feeling a bit lonely I guess. I'm not really cut out for being miserable though - I don't think I have the attention span for it. I have more interesting things to do than mope around feeling blue. So yesterday, after listening to The Holy Bible by Manic Street Preachers (their most depressing album, and that's saying something!) a couple of times I decided it was time to cheer up.

As is traditional in my family, I clean if I feel sad. After the flat was looking lovely again I sat down and made a list of all the things I wanted to achieve this year. As I have no job, I need to be my own manager so I gave myself an appraisal. Here is my list (along with motivational annotations):

1. Do some studying - Your exam is on Tuesday, stop being so lazy. You only need to study for four days - just deal with it.

2. Look into doing French lessons - Just give in and admit that the random methods you have so far employed are not producing the instant results you need to maintain an interest. You might make some French-newbie friends too - that'll make you feel better.

3. Do some exercise - For gods sake, you are such a lazy pig. Just get up off the chair and go for a walk, anything!!! It's no wonder your feet are so rubbish and blistery - you never use them!

4. Cook proper food every week - You love the market and you love cooking so I don't know why you can't do this every week??

5. Get a pet - Maybe a doggy or a kitty?

6. Ask Ben to ask your landlord to move his furniture out - Why is still here? I don't understand.

7. Try to write on your blog at least every other day - You seem to be losing interest in it already.

8. Finish sorting out your music on the computer - And please don't buy any more. You've already got too much to fit on the I Pod.

9. Do your hand washing - You spent £70 on a bra and have worn it once because you can't be bothered to wash it. In future DO NOT BUY HAND WASH ITEMS.

I can't decide if my internal monologue is more horrible to me than most peoples?

Anyway, I felt much better after giving myself a good talking to. Today I felt so positive I did some studying and all my hand washing - I don't think I destroyed anything either (although I seem to be using eco washing powder which smells disgusting, I question how anything that nasty could be good for the environment.

A Birds-Eye View Of Brussels

2009-06-02T13:51:00.008+02:00

We live on the fourth (and final) floor. While this means we have a ridiculous amount of stairs to climb to get home it also means that we have a rather good view.

In case you were a little confused, I added the letters on myself. Brussels does not provide the world with a handy marker system of letter shaped, helium filled balloons above the points of interest. These are three of the top 15 tallest buildings in Brussels (and some cranes).

A - Palais de Justice. On a (rare) clear day the view from outside here is even better than the view from our flat – to the north you can see the whole of Brussels laid out before you.

B – The Hilton. The less said the better really. It ruins my view.

C – I believe this is the Finance Tower. Again, I have nothing interesting to tell you.

D – Here are some cranes. These pop up all over Brussels. We had to climb across the base of one recently to get down a street; it could have been one of these two. Sometimes they spin round but not often as I think that would indicate that some work is being done.

From our terrace at the back we can just about see the top of St Gilles town hall but it is hidden by a big tree and doesn’t really show up in pictures. When I lie on our balcony it feels a bit like I’m in the country as the big tree is the only thing I can see. I tried to pretend that the traffic noise below was the sound of waves and I was on a beach yesterday but that didn’t work quite as well.

Brussels 20km Run

2009-05-31T20:43:00.005+02:00

Today was the 20k run of Brussels. This turned out to be a fairly tame event with none of the usual Belgian madness on display. Very few people dressed up which was a shame – I do love a ridiculous costume!

We had initially hoped to watch the race from the end of our road as it passed down Avenue Louise but I had forgotten about the tunnel which runs from Place Louise to Place Stephanie. It turns out that the runners were directed down there (this is not entirely surprising as Brussels loves a good tunnel) so we wandered up to Place Poelaert to watch them heading underground.

Here are some pictures:

Maybe the nervous clown had claustrophobia and was concerned about the tunnel ahead? I feel this guy deserves the award for most effort of the day as he was attempting to juggle while running - possibly with only two balls though...

This isn't a real baby - there were a few of these running. One persons baby was real though.

We also noticed that there was a band playing in the middle of the runners, they were cool:

Please imagine the runners in this photo, I was insistent that there must be a whole herd of people dressed up just about to turn the corner but sadly not.

Brighton

2009-05-29T14:49:00.005+02:00

I’m off to England for the day in a couple of weeks. The trip has been a little ruined already by the stupid Eurostar website charging me in Euros but not letting me pay with my Belgian card. I also know that the time I have to spend in London (nobody seems keen to drive half way round the M25 to collect me in rush hour) will wind me up no end since I lost my Oyster card and resent paying £4 for a single tube trip (I love you, STIB). However, my day will be spent in Brighton which is one of my favourite places in the world so that makes up for it.

Brighton and I have a chequered history and after I moved away I swore I would never love it again. It wooed me back though, with its beach and crêpes on the pier and quirky shops and fab nightlife.

I’ve planned out my list of things to do – sadly one of these involves sitting an exam but after that I have a day of fun in store. Firstly, I have lunch booked with an old friend and then I will be shopping! Yippee!!! I’ve got a Waterstones voucher to spend and a dress to buy. I also intend to hunt down all the treats I can’t get here and if there is a single Crème Egg left over from Easter I will find it and eat it. I’ll try and fit in some time on the beach fighting with a seagull over the remains of my crêpe too.

While I’m looking forward to going back it does feel a little strange now – as if I’m just on holiday; which I suppose I am. It’s surprising how quickly Brussels has begun to feel like my home and how much I look forward to coming back here after a trip to the UK.

Learning French

2009-05-27T17:06:00.007+02:00

Since we decided to move to Brussels I’ve been trying to improve my French. It used to be quite good. Ten years ago. Not one to do things the easy way, I have decided against enrolling in any sort of class. Instead I am experimenting with a variety of methods.

1. Forcing Ben to speak French to me at all times
Not very successful. Ben speaks fluent French but doesn’t like speaking it to me. I’m not 100% sure why. When he told me he wanted to live with a monkey instead of me we switched back to English.

2. Verb Conjugation Book
This would have been brilliant if I hadn’t got bored with it. I know the present tense of all regular verbs and how to ask a question in three ways. Maybe I’ll go back to it sometime.

3. Watching French Telly
This is incredibly boring when you don’t know what is happening.

I tried Plus Belle La Vie but everyone looked the same; I recognised one man who I think was called Leo and was reduced to shouting his name whenever he came on screen and making up plotlines that were probably less ridiculous than the real ones.

Then I tried Tout Une Histoire but found Jean-Luc Delarue disturbingly attractive. I think it is the French version of Jeremy Kyle but I can’t really be trusted since I don’t know what anyone is saying.

This all came to an end when I flicked onto the Flemish channels one day and found Blokken, a quiz show that seems to incorporate Tetris. I was very taken with this when I managed to get two of the answers right one afternoon.

Now I watch occasionally and shout out translations whenever I understand something. This is getting slightly tiresome as my knowledge improves.

4. Reading books in French
Slow, but rather effective. I average a page of vocab for each page of the novel.

5. Watching films with French subtitles
I like this one. I used to hate the cinema in England but Kinepolis is much nicer. Also, I prefer reading to watching films so I do spend the whole film reading in French. I think it must go in…?