Discovered
that it is half term next week for schools and also for the
Praatgroep; joy unconfined. There is nothing like a voluntary
activity receiving the unexpected bonus of a holiday, to cheer the
troops although we all seem to enjoy the meetings. It tends to bring
out the Inner Recalcitrant Child I suppose. I mention it solely because of the
official name of the holiday: Krokusvakantie, which I think is the
most delightful name for an official holiday ever invented.
The image above of crocuses peeping through snow rather aptly sums up the name for a winter break from the rigours of school and class!
Although
in some respects, a busy week, I spent two separate days in my
apartment, partly one day because of the ache in the foot and Friday
because cometh my cleaning lady and there were extra chores to do [ daughter and friends here in my coming absence] so
I worked alone in the morning. I exclude, of course, the sacrosanct
early swim which goes on daily and provides a peaceful interlude for
thinking. The Thursday evening group meeting nearby upstairs in the Cozy Bistro [photo opposite] to speak English continues to be a delight, with two members, temporarily we hope, stopping while the family home is sold and downsizing begun. Two other members have joined and next week, a new American friend from the Wednesday morning coffee get-together, will come along to meet and greet, with her dog. She will take my place while I am in America from February 15 which is so pleasing. Think the group will
like her; she is feisty and unafraid to speak her mind. Perfect! And the dog, a sort of old English sheepdog, kind and wise, will add a certain extra je ne sais quoi; his name to be revealed!
Saturday was eventful; I met a lovely young couple from Wye in Kent where I used to live, over for a long weekend break without baby and young son. I took them to breakfast at Blackbird in Jan Van Eyckplein and they loved the chic interior, and incidentally, the breakfast. In spite of all tables being full, there is never the feeling of being in a crowd there and Stephanie and Peter are super-hospitable. Open only since April last year, they recently won an Hospitality Award for being the most friendly, and the best, coffee house in Belgium.
Then,
Saturday afternoon to a 75th birthday party, a tea party
with bubbly, masses of sweet little patisseries, chocolates and cakes
followed by coffee and larger patisseries. Different from England
where it would have been canapes and wine followed by coffee and
perhaps chocolate. I had long ago decided that the Belgians definitely
have a sweeter collective tooth than the English. Always there is
something sweet offered with coffee or tea in homes or cafes. Happily
for me there were a number of guests who spoke English well,
generally after apologies for poor English. Makes me secretly ashamed
of the Brits' inability to grapple competently with other languages.
Here, SO many people slide effortlessly from French to Dutch to
German to English. It is a source of secret envy to me and I resolve
to Do Better with the Dutch, at which I am really not working hard
enough. There
is Always something more interesting to do and my will power, which
used to be adamantine, is ageing too I think! Aux verbes, citoyenne!
It was
a lovely party and held in a super barn converted into the warmest,
chicest place for relaxation ever; next-door to the house but
separate and just the right size. It is so difficult to do justice, in a photograph of the lovely conversion; the outside is quite tidily mundane and hardly hints at the charm within. The
surrounding parkland is quiet and delightful and belongs to a nearby castle! I sat mostly [as
did everyone, thankfully]. In my case I had ditched the loathed
heavy, tractor-tyre shoes I now always wear, for the first time, and
wore my beloved black boots so walking was less easy though the
superficial appearance, vastly improved! I could almost hear Eric
having a little rant about vanity!
And so another week; today, Monday, is free so for a treat, I went to De Belegde Boterham, my favourite place for lunch out. Frani has been running her own bistro for 22 years and she says she now knows what works. That accounts for the fact that there was just one tiny table available; the rest were full and that on a Monday in
February, with tourist numbers down, and heavy rain and gale-force wind outside.
Although
in some respects, a busy week, I spent two separate days in my
apartment, partly one day because of the ache in the foot and Friday
because cometh my cleaning lady and there were extra chores to do [ daughter and friends here in my coming absence] so
I worked alone in the morning. I exclude, of course, the sacrosanct
early swim which goes on daily and provides a peaceful interlude for
thinking. The Thursday evening group meeting nearby upstairs in the Cozy Bistro [photo opposite] to speak English continues to be a delight, with two members, temporarily we hope, stopping while the family home is sold and downsizing begun. Two other members have joined and next week, a new American friend from the Wednesday morning coffee get-together, will come along to meet and greet, with her dog. She will take my place while I am in America from February 15 which is so pleasing. Think the group will
like her; she is feisty and unafraid to speak her mind. Perfect! And the dog, a sort of old English sheepdog, kind and wise, will add a certain extra je ne sais quoi; his name to be revealed! Saturday was eventful; I met a lovely young couple from Wye in Kent where I used to live, over for a long weekend break without baby and young son. I took them to breakfast at Blackbird in Jan Van Eyckplein and they loved the chic interior, and incidentally, the breakfast. In spite of all tables being full, there is never the feeling of being in a crowd there and Stephanie and Peter are super-hospitable. Open only since April last year, they recently won an Hospitality Award for being the most friendly, and the best, coffee house in Belgium.
We
talked non-stop during breakfast while we exchanged family news and I
caught up with the village events. Then we talked more during the quick one hundred metres to my apartment for them to view it. As I explain to all who will listen, it is a
perfect place for me and is, almost certainly, an important part of my feeling of total comfort and wellbeing in Brugge. A light and spacious sanctuary; a home for
friends and chats, for phone calls and Face-time; a perennially quiet
place to study, read, think, talk and write with a little wind-swept
terrace, evergreen in my mind though with scarcely any present green
to see. The furniture and furnishings are achingly familiar and give
an alluring continuity to each day as part of the constant stage set
of Life. When someone comes to see me who hasn't been before, I think
their approval heightens in me my delight in this place which I value every day, in a more muted way .
They asked if I missed Wye, my home for almost 31 years and I had to say No but that implies no dissatisfaction with my former life there; I loved it all. But now, it has been replaced with a different but equally-loved life here. I live in the present and my present present, is more than presentable. It is enriching, engrossing, unpredictable in many ways but with comforting routines underpinning it all which confer an assumption of security.
They asked if I missed Wye, my home for almost 31 years and I had to say No but that implies no dissatisfaction with my former life there; I loved it all. But now, it has been replaced with a different but equally-loved life here. I live in the present and my present present, is more than presentable. It is enriching, engrossing, unpredictable in many ways but with comforting routines underpinning it all which confer an assumption of security.
Then,
Saturday afternoon to a 75th birthday party, a tea party
with bubbly, masses of sweet little patisseries, chocolates and cakes
followed by coffee and larger patisseries. Different from England
where it would have been canapes and wine followed by coffee and
perhaps chocolate. I had long ago decided that the Belgians definitely
have a sweeter collective tooth than the English. Always there is
something sweet offered with coffee or tea in homes or cafes. Happily
for me there were a number of guests who spoke English well,
generally after apologies for poor English. Makes me secretly ashamed
of the Brits' inability to grapple competently with other languages.
Here, SO many people slide effortlessly from French to Dutch to
German to English. It is a source of secret envy to me and I resolve
to Do Better with the Dutch, at which I am really not working hard
enough. There
is Always something more interesting to do and my will power, which
used to be adamantine, is ageing too I think! Aux verbes, citoyenne!
It was
a lovely party and held in a super barn converted into the warmest,
chicest place for relaxation ever; next-door to the house but
separate and just the right size. It is so difficult to do justice, in a photograph of the lovely conversion; the outside is quite tidily mundane and hardly hints at the charm within. The
surrounding parkland is quiet and delightful and belongs to a nearby castle! I sat mostly [as
did everyone, thankfully]. In my case I had ditched the loathed
heavy, tractor-tyre shoes I now always wear, for the first time, and
wore my beloved black boots so walking was less easy though the
superficial appearance, vastly improved! I could almost hear Eric
having a little rant about vanity!And so another week; today, Monday, is free so for a treat, I went to De Belegde Boterham, my favourite place for lunch out. Frani has been running her own bistro for 22 years and she says she now knows what works. That accounts for the fact that there was just one tiny table available; the rest were full and that on a Monday in
