Category Archives: Belgium

Wednesday 5th June 2013 – HELLO AGAIN.

I thought that I would have a nice interesting introduction this evening, because in all probability it will be more exciting that the rest of the post.

Basically, nothing much has changed since yesterday. I’m still up to my ears in papers. Mind you, the wardrobes and wall unit in the main bedroom have been emptied and most of the stuff has been packed away.

I suppose that that is progress.

There are three large sacks full of clothes and one of shoes (Marianne seemed to like shoes) and they will all be headed for a clothing bank next time I take Caliburn for a joy ride. Someone else may as well have use of it all.

So apart from that, what else?

Ahhh yes – Julie went into St Eloy-les-Mines today which was quite lucky because today was the day that the compost bins that we ordered from the VALTOM were to be collected. So thanks for that, Julie.

And in other news, I’m going to the UK – to Dymchurch in fact – for a day quite soon.

Just as I was wondering where I can get boxes and packing tape from in bulk and regretting that there was no Screwfix nearer than Dover, and how I was feeling like a day out by the seaside, Terry rang me up. He’s just won a job lot of 400 slates on eBay and they are in Dymchurch, down on the edge of Romney March about 10 miles from Dover. Fuel and ferry fare offered, and you can’t say fairer than that.

It’s a region that I know quite well of course, and if you were following my adventures in March 2009 you will know that I spent a pleasant few days just down the road at Dungeness.

Yes, a nice day out this weekend would just suit me fine. I hope that the weather stays fine.

-2

Tuesday 4th June 2013 – I’M UP TO MY KNEES …

… in papers right now, trying to start the packing. But somehow it’s just not happening.

Someone once saif of Ford Madox Ford that they could put him in a totally empty room and come back later and find the place in total chaos. Anyone who comes here right now will understand exactly what they meant by now.

But never mind. Nietzsche famously said “out of chaos comes order”, but that was many years before I was born.

It depresses me, though. I’m not sure why it is but when God or whoever it was was handing out the tidying-up gene, I dunno where I was. I somehow make the place even more untidy until it looks like a total tip and then I lose interest or something and it’s always the same. The road to hell really is paved with good intentions.

I’ve been going round finding all of the DC appliances in the apartment, and believe me, ther are tons of them. But not a charger or transformer in sight. Anyway, today, I came across a drawer full of DC chargers and transformers, And not one of them labelled either. This is going to be fun, mating them all up.

And apart from that? Nothing at all. But then, that’s quite enough to be going on with, I reckon

Thursday 30 May 2013 – IT’S BEEN ANOTHER …

… one of those depressing dismal days where it has rained almost non-stop from start to finish. It started off badly when I had another one of those dramatic awakenings, where I find myself sitting bolt upright and wide awake. I was having some kind of vivid dream (and I’ve been having a few of those just recently), and although I don’t remember anything about it, I had the uneasy feeling that there was a catastrophe occurring somewhere – and it was that thought that caused me to awaken so dramatically.

Anyway, after breakfast I made a start on writing the text for my next rock radio programme for Radio Anglais but by 13:00 I abandoned it to go and pick up Marianne’s death certificates from the funeral director. I stopped off at the fritkot at the Place Flagey for some frites on the way – after all, I’m in Belgium now.

From the funeral director’s, I went to the local nick to enquire after these allegations that have been made against me and, as I had no doubt whatsoever, they have been classées sans suite. I can’t have a copy of the complaint though – I need to ask an avocat to ask the Procureur du Roi for a copy. The coppers don’t think that it’s worth the effort though. According to them, they never took them seriously, even for a moment but had to go through the motions.

From there I walked through the torrential rain across the city to my notaire to let him have one of the copies of the certificate, passing by the grounds of the European Parliament on my way

There was a meeting taking place and I was tempted to go in and spectate as I have done in the past, but I had other things to do. But I couldn’t resist taking a photo of the sign outside the Paul-Henri Spaak Building.

It’s true that they have extraordinary meetings there – I’ve sat through a few – but if this notice proves anything at all, it is that as long as the UK sits on its haunches and refuses to push for additional staff to deal with the increased pressure of additional translations and leaves it all up to the local Flemish-speaking Belgians whose “English doesn’t need any supervision – it’s totally perfect”, we’ll have a few more extraordinary translations too.

From the notaire’s, it was back to the bank at the Rond-point Schuman to check that nothing unusual was happening to Marianne’s bank account, and then I gave up. My knees were hurting a bit after yesterday’s marathon, I wasn’t comfortable, I was soaking wet and so I took the metro and then the tram back home where I crashed out for a couple of hours. All this walking is certainly doing me good.

Tomorrow I’m having a day off and then I’ll attack the next stage of the clearing up on Monday.

-3

Wednesday 29th May 2013 – When was the last time that you saw …

… one of these? I couldn’t work out what it was at first. Either a Gogomobil or a Frisky was what was going through my head at first, but it is in fact an Autobianchi, a microcar from Italy and so rare that I haven’t even seen one in Italy. But here it was, sitting by the side of the road in the Chaussee de Charleroi in Brussels.

Anyway, after my lost day yesterday where I spent some of it in bed and the rest of it wishing that I was back in bed, I went out and about. And wasn’t that a waste of time?

Firstly to the Maison Communale for a copy of Marianne’s death certificate, and after much ado about nothing I eventually found the correct person. €8:50 they wanted – per copy – and after picking myself up off the floor and asking for two copies, I was told that I couldn’t have them as Marianne and I weren’t married. A notaire needs to apply, so it seems.

Not to be out-done, I went to the undertaker’s. Now I don’t know what he spends his extortionate fees on, but it’s not on his premises, I’ll tell you that. Art-deco 1920s is my guess and it hasn’t been cleaned since then. The kind of place where, if you give the curtains a good shake, a couple of bats would come flying out.

It seems that I’ve paid (well, I haven’t, but I’ve been booked down to pay for) 3 copies of the death certificate. So the secretary asked me “haven’t you had them yet?”, which elicited the obvious response of “why else would I be here if I had?”. anyway, she rang up the commune to enquire and she was told, and I heard it clearly from where I was sitting “but you never asked for them”. So someone else trying to stick me for dosh on false pretences. Anyway, after a lengthy discussion and “frank exchange of views”, I can go to pick them up tomorrow.

From there I went to have lunch and had the estate agents on the phone. They are extremely worried that I’m trying to deal them out of their commission and are thus keeping close tabs on me. But two can play at that game as well – I was not really in the mood for conciliation today.

After lunch I went for a good walk and found a CD sale. I’m €46 lighter but my CD collection is now considerably heavier and it’s all good stuff too. High time I took more care of myself and my well-being. As long as I can still hear the music I’m okay.

But apart from getting myself soaking wet, that was that. Highlight was, of course, the music. And also the Autobianchi.

-2

Monday 2nd January 2012 – I’M BACK …

… on the road again. My stay with Marianne in Brussels is over.

I’m presently holed up in a concealed fold in the ground in a parking space I know somewhere between Rethel and Chalons-sur-Marne, or Chalons en Champagne, or whatever they call the place these days. We’ve stayed here before as you know.

The plan was that I was going to have a slow amble back over a few days, looking at all of the places that I’ve driven past and never visited during all of the time that I’ve been travelling up and down the road, but the weather put paid to that.

It’s broken at last as you might expect, and we had a howling hurricane and pitch darkness all the way down to here. And so I pressed on rather than hanging around, and took shelter here.

I’m not anticipating it being any better tomorrow, so I’ll be going home instead.

As for today, a few more hours on the book and then after lunch we nipped out. Today is the start of the January sales so our first port of call was the sales at IKEA.

But of course Brain of Britain strikes again, doesn’t he? They don’t start until the Tuesday.

We had a bit of a laugh too at her apartment.

One of her best friends is a strange woman who belongs to one of these weird sects, and the idea that anyone should put temptation of sin in their way by being in the close proximity of a person of the opposite sex is a devastating one, from her point of view.

Consequently, I’ve been having to keep a low profile, but the aforementioned friend called round today. The machinations that we had to go through in order not to offend this woman were … errr … quite amusing, I’ll tell you.

But it’s all good fun, isn’t it?

So two poems in French (and several more, I notice, as I glance further ahead) translated into English (straightforward), then rendered as poems (nothing like as easy) with certain crucial words remaining in the same place (almost impossible).

I ended up spending all my time thinking in rhyme, in order to try to get into the swing of it.

And translating several anagrams into English to the satisfaction of Marianne and keeping to the gist of the story – it’s been hard work.

But it was worth it in the end.

-2

Sunday 1st January 2012 – HAPPY NEW YEAR …

… to all of my readers, but seeing as how we’ve already done the “Crewe Bus Station” story, I’ll not mention it again.

Except to say that limbo dancing was invented by a Scotsman trying to get into the toilets there without paying.

So having had a little Sunday lie-in, and a quick breakfast, our first stop was the church at the Abbaye de la Cambre again. Marianne is a practising Catholic so I keep on telling her that if she keeps on practising like this, one day she will be perfect.

She certainly deserves a sainthood or whatever it is that they give to heroes in the church, seeing as how she’s brave enough to risk all kinds of thunderbolts to drag me along. Organised religion is not my thing as you know, but when in Rome and all of that.

We had a nice walk in the Bois de la Cambre this afternoon and ended up going for a coffee. But I’ve also done another couple of hours on this book. With all of the practising that I’ve been doing on it, I ought to be perfect now too.

Later this evening, we went out.

There’s an Egyptian restaurant (I had actually thought that it was a Lebanese one) in the neighbourhood that does vegan food so I had booked a table there. No point last night because of what Marianne wanted to see on the TV of course.

That made quite a pleasant change – we had a very pleasant time and it does us good to break our routine up like this.

So tomorrow is my final day. A long way from being finished but I suppose that much of the time has been spent socialising.I don’t see enough of people as you know, and you lot are always telling me that I should get out more often.

I like Marianne very much but living here in Brussels and working this 09:00 – 18:00 routine is definitely not for me.

Saturday 31st December 2011 – HAPPY NEW YEAR …

… or, at least, it will be in a bit.

This morning I was attacking Marianne’s book yet again. I’ve unearthed several more poems, at least two of which need certain crucial words placed in the right position
and poetry’s not my strong point
I’ll be glad to leave this joint.
Cos poetry is real hard work
And I can’t do it
What a berk!
so how I’m going to do all of that – I am as yet … errr … undecided.

Another anagram has reared its ugly head too (and I think that there are a couple more) with certain words put into a precise order and harry hid is vest.

So you can see – no chance of doing this by Monday evening.

I went out to lunch. It’s been a while since I met Mike – one of my cohorts from the OUSA – Open University Students Association – days here in Brussels. We had a very good chat for a couple of hours and raised a glass to absent friends, Liz Ayers especially. Nearly three years since she left us.

Mike is looking quite well and I wished him all the best. But I couldn’t hang around because Marianne and I had shopping to do. I keep forgetting that these days I’m having to think about the routines of others rather than just my own.

We’ve had tea and Marianne is settling down to watch the Pope and the religious services for the New Year. Me, I’m sitting here idly reading a book (not about poetry) on the internet.

I wish you all well – see you next year.

Friday 30th December 2011 – I STILL HAVEN’T …

… solved this anagram issue yet, despite having given the matter considerable thought.

But I’ve moved on, leaving that behind me to reflect upon at a later date, and I’ve now run aground elsewhere.

Another recurring theme in this book is a poem, and this requires me not only to translate, but to translate in rhyme. And that’s not easy either because
I’m not a poet
And don’t I know it!

But I’m struggling on all the same. Never let it said that I’m going to be defeated.

And while I was busy working, others were of course relaxing and I notice that once again His Nibs has taken advantage of my preoccupation to arrange a photo shoot

There’s really no stopping him when there’s a camera and a floozie floating about in the vicinity, is there?

I don’t know what I pay him for half of the time, I really don’t.

We’ve done the usual domestic stuff here today but we are taking a break tomorrow for a few hours. There’s shopping to be done for the weekend of course and I have an appointment in town to see someone – catch up with old friends and chat about old times.

So having had tea we’re going to settle down now and watch a film. And I can’t even remember which film it is that we’ve decided to watch.

It’s getting to me, all of this.

Thursday 29th December 2011 – MARIANNE AND I …

… have had a disagreement.

But it’s not anything to do with our personal life at all – it’s to do with this book. And the only reason really that I mention it is to illustrate the difficulties under which this translation is proceeding.

And it’s no wonder that no commercial translator would undertake the job. Having this done for the weekend is impossible and I realised that a while ago.

Part of the plot hinges around an anagram, and without this anagram the story can’t proceed.

And it’s all very well doing a translation, but to keep the translation down some kind of narrow pathway to represent the author’s literary channels and literary thought is complicated enough, but when there’s a key anagram to be thrown in at a crucial point, it’s snot, aye.

So after much binding in the marsh, I came up with an absolutely belting anagram for the English translation of my phrase, but unfortunately it doesn’t quite correspond with the literary sense that Marianne is trying to convey.

I’ve spent all morning trying to find an appropriate phrase (which is required to be used in a considerable part of this book) just so that its anagram would be a powerful one. But it’s not suitable, and that’s that.

So it’s back to the drawing board, Cecil.

Yes, I hadn’t realised what I was letting myself in for when I volunteered for this task. It’s certainly … errr … challenging.

And I suppose that it’s that in itself that is doing me good.

Wednesday 28th December 2011 – DAY THREE …

… of our megathon continues apace.

And we had some excitement today.

The plan this evening was for us to be sitting down in the lounge after tea to watch La Grande Vadrouille, another de Funes film in which he stars with Terry-Thomas and Bourvil.

It’s another one of my favourites and Marianne had bought that for me as well. I’d been a lucky boy this Christmas

And as I was getting the film ready in the DVD player to watch, Marianne was idly surfing through the channels and what should be on the TV but La Grande Vadrouille

Coincidence or what?

Apart from that, it’s been the usual routine today – breakfast, work, coffee, work, lunch, and then the cycle continuing in the afternoon.

I thought that I had left the 09:00 – 18:00 cycle behind, yet here I am deep in it again. I’m not used to this kind of routine and I don’t think that I ever will be.

And sleeping here in the city with all of the noise doesn’t help.

Tuesday 27th December 2011 – DAY TWO …

… of my mega-workathon, and Marianne is a hard taskmaster. She makes sure that I’m always hard at it, as well as working overtime on her book.

I’ve stopped for the occasional coffee, and stopped for lunch too, but I’ve put in a good crack at this book. And I think that having it finished in a week or so is being optimistic, to say the least, despite all of the preparation that I did at home before I came away.

After tea, we went for a walk in the park down the road for a breath of fresh air and that did us good. It was a fairly reasonable day for the time of year as it happens.

And then we settled down to watch another film that Marianne had bought me for Christmas. Le Petit Baigneur, another film of Louis de Funès.

It’s another one of those films that I can watch time and time again, and with a couple of scenes – the “church” scene and the running gag of the “launching of the Incrèvable (‘Unbreakable’)” scenes, I won’t ever tire of seeing those.

So now it’s bed time and an early night (if the noise in the street will let me). I need to be on top form if I’m going to do this work.

Monday 26th December 2011 – BOXING DAY …

… and despite, for me, it being a traditional Day of Rest, no such luck unfortunately. I have plenty of work to do.

I’m not sure if you know why I’m here, but basically my friend Marianne has written a book. It’s called Les Secrets du Moine, a mystery thriller involving buried treasure and an Abbey.

It’s written in French of course, and she would like it translated. But it isn’t easy because there’s such a lot in there that can’t be translated literally or it will lose the sense. And there are all kinds of stuff in there that needs a lot of careful thought.

When I had been here in July Marianne had given me a copy to read on the ‘plane over to Canada. And on my return she asked me what I had thought of it.

I told her that I enjoyed it tremendously (which is true) and so she asked me if I would like to translate it.

And so I had done some research on what it was that I was expected to know, and here I am – ready to set to work.

And this will be my task for the next week or so – to thrash out a whole plan with Marianne and to discuss the technical issues involving the plot of the book (I don’t pretend to understand it all).

So I’d better stop blogging and get working, hadn’t I?

Sunday 25th December 2011 – A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS …

… to all my readers.

I didn’t get that line from a Christmas Cracker or from an Annual, but from off the back of the door of the Public Lavatory on Crewe Bus Station. That was a good source of reading material for a spotty young teenager and I certainly learned a good deal about anatomy there.

In fact, I reckon that it was thanks to there that I passed my Biology ‘O’ Level with the best result I ever had.

This morning we had a lie-in and so it was about 10:00 when we finally struggled into the kitchen. Breakfast was flapjacks made with flour, soya milk and a little sugar, and then we went to the church at the Abbaye de la Cambre.

I have issues with churches, though.

Someone once tried to drown me in a church, and the next time I went there someone stuck this woman in my hand. I swore that they next time anyone of my acquaintance went to a church it would be over my dead body.

All in all, I’m surprised that I wasn’t struck down by a thunderbolt

I made Christmas dinner as well. We had seitan slices in onions and gravy, boiled and roast potatoes, sprouts (well, we ARE in Brussels) and mixed vegetables, followed by Christmas pudding and custard.

And even though I say it myself, it all tasted very nice.

This afternoon though, we listened to our Christmas Radio Programme on Radio Arverne, watched “Dr No” and that was that really – just chilled out.

But tomorrow we are starting work in earnest. after all, that’s why I’m here.

-3

Saturday 24th December 2011 – I DIDN’T FEEL …

… much like getting up this morning.

I can’t sleep in Brussels and it’s pretty pointless trying, if you ask me. And so when the alarm went off at 08:30 I was already alive and kicking.

Having fallen off the end of the bed three times during the night doesn’t help much either and so I turned the bed round in the middle of the night. And so tonight it will be my feet that will fall out.

This morning we went shopping at the Shanti – the health food supermarket over the road in the Avenue Adolphe Buyl. Start as we mean to go on, I suppose.

After that I made a start on the work that we had to do. I’m not here merely to pass the time of day or to sit and put my feet up – I have plenty of work to do.

Another shopping trip, this time to the Carrefour at Waterloo (or, rather, Mont St Jean) for the stuff we couldn’t find at the health food shop was on the cards for later and after a coffee, we went to Chi Chi’s, the Tex-Mex restaurant down the road from there, for a Christmas Eve meal.

We arrived much earlier than anticipated for our booking, but there was a table free and so we didn’t have to wait around.

Back here later, we watched the Chronicles of Narnia II – Prince Caspian, which isn’t a patch on the first one unfortunately, and that was Christmas Eve.

And now I’m off to bed. I have to wait until tomorrow to find out what Santa has bought me.

-2

Friday 23rd December 2011 – I HATE BRUSSELS

Especially when I am trying to sleep and there are trams clanging past, police cars racing by, doors slamming, people shouting.

And here is me, having once complained about being awoken by an owl screeching. I can’t wait to return home and I promise that I won’t ever complain again.

And so this morning Marianne and I went shopping. I was a-hunting for a pair of boots seeing as the ones that I bought in Canada in 2010 have split right across the sole.

But having seen the prices in Brussels, I’ll limp around with soggy feet for the rest of my life. Extortionate isn’t the word.

Better news at IKEA though where I bought one of my “plank-trolley” specials – a trolley loaded up with odds and ends of doors.

This one has a set of bed laths (which was what I wanted), 2 other sets, a baby’s cot, a load of wood that will do for shelving, some heat-treated glass shelves, all kinds of useful and exciting things – and all for €10 too. That was money well-spent as well.

The interesting bit was trying to manoeuvre … "PERSONoeuvre" – ed … the trolley around the other piles of trolleys in the way while several members of staff stood and watched, the idle ghits, and manoeuvring … "PERSONoeuvring" – ed … Caliburn into the loading bay (waiting permitted for 5 minutes only) between the van containing the guy surfing the internet on his laptop and the other van with the guy eating his sandwiches.

Yes, waiting only for 5 minutes, while the staff stood and watched. I hate Belgian shop assistants. Totally unhelpful and thick as slurry.

This evening we went to see “The Untouchables” – I’ve seen worse films than this to be sure but to be honest it’s nothing more than “The Fabulous Destiny of Amelie Poulain“, but with Attitude.

Anyway tomorrow promises to be a little more exciting, and so I’m off to bed. Although whether or not I’ll have sweet dreams is another thing entirely.

-2

EPIC HALL

The Poisoned Pen (or Poisoned Chalice, more like) – or my relentless struggle against reality