Tag Archives: eric hall

Wednesday 14th August 2013 – YET ANOTHER MORNING …

… when I was up long before the alarm clock went off. I dunno what’s been happening to me just recently – it’s not as if I’ve wet the bed or anything.

So for an hour or two at least it was “full steam ahead” with adding these tags to my web pages and I really didn’t realise exacly how many pages there are. All this time and I’ve hardly scratched the surface.

What’s even more frightening is that I’ve realised just how many web pages are in the pipeline and how much I still have to write. I hope that my stay in Greece will be productive.

Once Cécile’s mum had woken up we sorted out all of the boxes here – Cécile has had a good look at all of the stuff that was in them. THen we attacked the kitchen, and the least said about that the better. I never realised just how much stuff there is in here – it’s amazing just how much useless rubbish one can accumulate.

The big wardrobe went today, that means that tomorrow we can all go shopping and buy some food. We might even be able to eat too.

And later on this evening we went for a long walk around the University grounds and somehow ended up at the Abbaye de la Bois de La Cambre, the abbey that is just down the road from here, sitting quietly in the sunset watching the fish and the ducks and the herons in the old fish pond.

Cécile’s mother, who has never been to Brussels before, is quite pleased with what she saw today. She might not be so pleased with what she might see tomorrow, because Cécile and I are going to empty the cellar.

And in other news, the much-maligned (and quite rightly so) FAW, the Football Association of Wales, has made a complete and utter U-turn and inviting not only Barry Town but also Llanelli FC to rejoin the Welsh Football League. I suppose that “it is better to learn wisdom late than never to learn it at all”, as Sherlock Holmes said in “The Man With The Twisted Lip”, but this sordid issue could have been resolved in the same fashion with just 5 seconds of goodwill and earned the FAW all kinds of applause, instead of having disputes, arguments, lies and Court Cases and even more vilification heaped upon the Football Association of Wales.

As long as the FAW continues to shoot itself in the foot, there is really no hope for Welsh football. It’s high time the FAW councillors got a grip or else that’s going to be another group of people stood up against the embankment in the Tir National up the road.

Tuesday 13th August 2013 – WE ARE NOT ALONE

No – Cécile and her mum breezed into town this evening. They made it as far as the Chaussée de Waterloo about 2kms away from here so I suppose that’s pretty good going. A quick phone call and I went off to rescue them. They took a while to find Brussels as I suspected, but neverheless it wasn’t too bad at all, everything considered.

I had another exciting dream last night, one that went clean out of my head the moment I woke up and that was hardly surprising seeing as how it was not even 06:30 when I woke up. When was the last time that I was up, washed, dressed and breakfasted and hard at work before 07:15, for no good reason at all? I bet that it wasn’t this year.

And what have I been doing today then,

A bit of desultory tidying up – I don’t want to give Cécile’s mum the right idea – and dismantling the giant wardrobe that someone is (hopefully) coming to pick up tomorrow early evening. But apart from that I have finally managed to find some on-line coding segments to add to my web pages to enable people to share them on various social media. You can see an example if you look right down the bottom of a page that I’ve already modified.

It’s not exactly what I wanted – I was really hoping for a hit counter as well for each button but that’s far too complicated for my *.html and *.css skills so I’ll have to deal with that another time. In the meantime I’ve added the button to about 50 of my … gulp …700 pages. I’ll be here for another 10 years doing the rest I reckon.

I found something similar for my blog, as you might have noticed. This does indeed have a counter but it doesn’t transport out of the blogging environment which is a pity. Nevertheless, you can all like my pages as much as you like and even share them with your friends if you want to. I know that I would, if I had any friends to share them with 🙁

Monday 12th August 2013 – THIS BLASTED ESTATE AGENT …

… is thoroughly and completely getting on my nerves now and I’ll be resorting to violence if we have much more of this, I promise you.

We were all at the notaire’s today and ready to sign up when the purchaser requested a six-week delay (usually a delay of 10 days) of the final act in order to confirm the acceptance of the loan.

Yes, that’s like forever, but he wasn’t willing to budge, that was clear, so I wasn’t all that bothered. So I’ll have to pay another month’s service charges on the place, but that’s a small price to pay.

I was confident that given 10 minutes with him afterwards I could have managed to persuade him to shorten his time scale no matter what he had signed up to.

But this blasted agent immobilier went on and on and on at him for about half an hour (and I had an attack of cramp while she was doing it) and wouldn’t leave him alone.

In the end I had to tell her three times to put a flaming sock in it. Then once the meeting closed she had another go at him, and then she had another go at him in the hall and then a further go at him outside.

I tell you now, I shan’t ever be doing any more business with her – it’s appalling.

We didn’t sign the compromis because yet another snag has surfaced. Marianne and I have told everyone that there’s a cellar included in the deal. And indeed there is, and Marianne (and now I) has the keys for it.

But nowhere in the deeds of the property is there any mention of the cellar. Maybe the owners of the apartments don’t own the cellars and only have the enjoyment of them, but that needs to be cleared up.

So this morning I had another exciting dream. I was part of a team of people going exploring, and we were on a kind-of converted fishing trawler on our way to some remote spot somewhere. But the guy leading the expedition was something of a martinet and at he first sign of dissent he sailed to the nearest port and offloaded the dissenter. I remember chatting to a young guy who was working on the deck above me, an open deck, and I climbed up onto his deck to have a chat, but he informed me that he was being put ashore at the next port.
The trawler had in fact turned back and after a while we sailed into a harbour in South Western Ireland just as three small Ro-Ro car ferries were leaving the harbour in line astern. We sailed up the harbour wall and onto the car park and across the car park to a building on the far side (it’s a dream, of course).
A little later I was driving a taxi with a woman passenger in the back. I was taking her somewhere where I was sure that I knew the way but at the end of the road (on the outskirts of Crewe) I couldn’t remember whether I turned left then right, or right then left. I went right then left and I was sure that it was wrong, and how I wished that I had made sure before I set out.

brussels belgium bruxelles belgique grand boulevard basilique de sacre coeur de koekelberg
So up long before the alarm, and into town. I’ve paid the outstanding property tax and that wasn’t without excitement. I also had to deal with some issues about Marianne’s succession –
Belgian Civil Servant “you don’t pay that here”
Our Hero “where do I go then?”
BCS “where it says on the letter”
OH “well you’ll have to tell me because you have the letter”
BCS “it says here (pointing) – Rue de la Regence”
OH “where’s that?”
BCS “I don’t know”
Further enquiry from a security guard (of an ethnic minority, not a Belgian) revealed that Rue de la Regence is the street at the side of the Tax Office.

Yes, you can’t make up rubbish like this, but everyone living in Belgium will tell you all about it. The whole lot of Belgians, especially Civil Servants, DiT shop workers and agents immobilier should be stood up against a wall, preferably at the tir national, and dealt with accordingly.

The same at the Post Office. I have an account at the Post Office, still registered at my Belgian address, and I want to change the address to France. Armed with a passport and French driving licence you might think that this would be easy, but I promise you that it isn’t.

She had to ask three different colleagues how to do it and none of them knew, so when she had a go on her own the computer system crashed. So that was that.

But it’s a good job that I went to my bank though. While I was activating my card (only one of them – I’ve flaming well forgotten to bring the other, haven’t I?) for Canada, the bank clerk noticed that my credit card had expired.

Luckily there was one awaiting me and so I picked that up and we activated it then and there, but by God I was lucky. I could have had a major embarrassment about that.

And then all of this flaming rubbish with the agent immobilier.

And Cecile and her mum are setting off for Brussels tomorrow. That means that, knowing Cecile, they’ll arrive some time in April 2016.

And in a master-stroke of organisation, they are taking the bus to Nantes and picking up Cecile’s car there in order to come here, rather than coming from door to door in Cecile’s mum’s car.

That means, of course, that they can only take back with them whatever they can carry on the bus rather than a whole car-load of stuff that is otherwise heading for the tip, and that defeats the whole purpose of coming here, doesn’t it?

Saturday 10th August 2013 – WELL, YOU MISSED…

… all of the excitement today, anyway.

You may remember that I told you yesterday that Barry Town had beaten the FAW hands down in the court case concerning the football club’s expulsion from the league.

Anyway, to day in one of the Welsh newspapers was a letter from a member of the FAW commenting on the case, and I have to say that in all my life I have never ever seen such an inflammatory, insulting, offensive letter.

Its contents, full of vindictiveness and hatred, certainly would have brought it into the realm of a “Contempt of Court” charge.

It provoked a whole hornets nest of comment from all kinds of people and I myself spent some considerable time drafting a letter of complaint.

And then what? Yes, the newspaper concerned withdrew the letter with a comment that the author denied ever having written it and does not subscribe to the views that are represented within it.

Frankly though, I cannot believe that a respectable on-line newspaper would have published a letter of such a type without making further enquiry.

If the editor didn’t, then he only has himself to blame for whatever might follow for, as night surely follows day, this matter is not going to rest here, given the amount of dust that has been spread around.

It wasn’t without its moments of humour either. I sent my mail to the editor of the newspaper concerned. It came back with “sorry I’m on holiday, please send your mail to (my deputy)”
So I resent the mail to his deputy. It came back with “sorry I’m on holiday, please send your mail to (the editor)”.

You couldn’t make up a thing like that.

tir national military firing range schaarbeek schaerbeek fusilé cemetery executed by nazisAt lunchtime I went off to do the shopping. I went to the Carrefour at Evere today and made a little diversion on the way.

If you remember from last Sunday, I took you all to the cemetery at Ixelles to see some of the war graves. I mentioned the Tir National, the old army firing range at Schaarbeek quite close to where I used to live when I had the little apartment in the Boulevard Reyers.

I told you all that the Tir National was used as the execution point for those found guilty of War Crimes by the Germans.

edith cavell memorial tir national military firing range schaarbeek schaerbeek fusilé cemetery executed by germans world war 1Many of the victims have been buried there, and although I did tell you that Edith Cavell was there, that’s no longer true.

She was disinterred shortly after the end of World War 1 and taken to be reinterred at Westminster Abbey and ended up being buried at Norwich Cathedral on 19th May 1919 as Annie so kindly informed me.

However, her name is there on this World War I monument along with that of the people who died with her, and plenty of others from World War 1. A mere thirty-odd, you might think.

One is more than enough but 30-odd does pale into significance when compared to the several hundred others from World War 2

robert roberts jones grave  tir national military firing range schaarbeek schaerbeek fusilé cemetery executed by nazis world war 2Amongst these hundreds and hundreds of graves from World War II is this one of a certain Robert Roberts-Jones.

With a name like that you might be forgiven for thinking that he is a Welshman, but he is in fact a 3rd-generation Belgian and was a lawyer before he was shot in 1943.

Brussels was honeycombed with spy networks (for example, the Soviet “Red Orchestra” had its headquarters a brisk walk from where I’m currently sitting) and escape routes, called “rat lines”, which were used to dispatch escaping and evading Allied forces personnel and others into neutral territory for trans-shipment back to their units.

The most famous was arguably Andrée (Dédée) de Jongh’s “Comet Line”. This was however infiltrated and collapsed in 1943 and Roberts-Jones, one of the members of Comet, was arrested, tortured and executed.

He has a street named after him, at the back of the Russian embassy here and I often wondered, while I was driving down the street to pick up visas and the like, what the street referred to.

unknown graves tir national military firing range schaarbeek schaerbeek fusilé cemetery executed by nazis world war 2More poignant though are the “unknowns” here. Probably a hundred or so graves are marked as “unknowns”.

No-one will ever know who they are and what they did – they will be amongst the victims of what the Germans called Nacht und Nebel, “Night and Fog”, the name given to the method by which people were quietly abstracted from their environment and “disappeared” for ever, presumably after suffering all kinds of horrors ant the hands of their torturers.

Friday 9th August 2013 – WELL …

… this apartment might be sold (again).

Someone who visited it yesterday has made a written offer via a promesse ferme d’achat and, being fed up of things dragging on (and on and on and on) I’ve accepted it.

Of course, I’m not vending the peau of the ours before I’ve tue’d it. I’ve enough promesse ferme d’achats to wallpaper the living room, as you know, but it’s something at least positive. I just hope that it comes off.

But it wasn’t all roses today. I was just about to step into the shower this morning when the doorbell rang.

One of the people from yesterday wanted to take a couple of measurements. And then he offered what in th common parlance would be described as an offre bidon in cash underneath the counter, take it or leave it.

Of course he went out of the door with my boot up his nether regions. I hate people who totally waste my time like that.

And what with the fracas I forgot about my shower. Mind you it does remind me of that famous cross-examination in a British court in the 1960s during a trial on a charge of affray
Barrister “and you were kicked in the fracas?”
Witness “oh no – I was kneed in the bÛllÛcks”.

And so the amateur came round to make the offer and what should have been a 15-minute task turned into 90 minutes and more and in the end I had to shout at the agent immobilier to run off her battery of mobile phones so that we could flaming well do the flaming task that we had flaming well come here to flaming well do without a flaming interruption every 30 flaming seconds.

Rude, impolite, unprofessional, pig-ignorant, call it what you will, but it wasted everyone’s time and both the purchaser and I have better things to do than to listen to her on the telephone.

I’ll be glad when the apartment is finally sold and she p155es off.

But she didn’t go yet because she came back with 4 or 5 clients at 16:30 and was here until gone 19:00 and my day was totally ruined. I didn’t even have time to do any cleaning up and that annoyed me greatly.

Mind you, it wasn’t all bad.

I finished my magnum opus, all 41kb and 7700 words of it – enough there to keep us going for a lifetime I reckon – the second longest script I’ve ever written (apart from the Christmas Specials of course).

But there’s a lot to be said on the subject I’m discussing and there are some surprising issues that will have a few British people gripping the edges of their seats once we get well into the issue.

Apart from that, the Football Association of Wales, which features regularly in these pages, has shot itself in the foot yet again and has been humiliated in the courts.

Basically, the FAW expelled Barry Town from the league because the secretary tendered the resignation of the club.

However, the secretary doesn’t have the authority to do so – it’s only the owners or the Board of Directors who can do that and the secretary (who was formerly the owner) had relinquished control to the supporters earlier.

Nevertheless, the FAW accepted the resignation.

And despite all of the FAW’s pleading in court today, the judge ruled that “the FAW council had acted unlawfully in refusing the club full FAW membership and entry into the Welsh League in June this year” and that the FAW’s decision was “flawed and irrational”.

Yes, a right bunch of miserable pleaders, the FAW. Never mind anything else, it’s the members of the FAW Council who are bringing the game into disrepute if you want my opinion, and it’s high time that someone charged them with misconduct.

And so, in honour of the FAW’s achievements today in dragging Welsh Football through the mire and into the gutter, here’s Oliver Cromwell’s speech to the Rump Parliament, and as an address to the FAW, I couldn’t have put it any better myself –

“It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonoured by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice.

Ye are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government.

Ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of pottage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money.

Is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you? Is there one vice you do not possess?

Ye have no more religion than my horse. Gold is your God. Which of you have not bartered your conscience for bribes? Is there a man amongst you that has the least care for the good of the Commonwealth?

Ye sordid prostitutes have you not defiled this sacred place, and turned the Lord’s temple into a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wicked practices?

Ye are grown intolerably odious to the whole nation. You were deputed here by the people to get grievances redressed, are yourselves become the greatest grievance.

Your country therefore calls upon me to cleanse this Augean stable, by putting a final period to your iniquitous proceedings in this House; and which by God’s help, and the strength he has given me, I am now come to do.

I command ye therefore, upon the peril of your lives, to depart immediately out of this place.

Go, get you out! Make haste! Ye venal slaves be gone! So! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors.

In the name of God, go!”

Thursday 8th August 2013 – I HAVEN’T FINISHED …

…my magnum opus for “Radio Anglais” as I had hoped.

I’m not too disappointed though – because I haven’t by any means been idle. The notes that I had prepared from last time ran to something like 15kb.

By the close of play today I’ve more than doubled that to 32kb, which is he equivalent of about 800 lines of text and over 5770 words.

Usually a radio programme’s “technical notes” bit runs to about 3.5kb so I’m looking at an equivalent of 10 programmes and maybe more (because I’ve still plenty of stuff to go at) and that will suit me fine.

Yes, 5 weeks to record just before I go and 5 weeks to record as soon as I come back.

Some more furniture might be going too. Someone has been round to look at the big wardrobe and made an offer.

I was hoping for more but I want to empty the place as quickly as possible so I shall gnash my teeth and let it go. She’s coming back for it on Tuesday – I hope she won’t have changed her mind.

Apart from that we had a pile of visits of people to look at the apartment. Some are clearly timewasters, of course, but one or two look more interested. We shall have to see.

I’m not too discouraged, though. In order to find a prince you need to kiss a lot of frogs.

I had another good dream too. I was at a product fair somewhere in the UK selling stuff related to my business but throughout all of the day I didn’t sell a tap, which was disappointing. A short while later I was wandering around Wistaston Road in Crewe near where the old timber yard was, which by now was all closed up and weed-infested, and I was following a couple of girls who were looking for old cars – Morris Oxford MO-type and pre-Farina Austin A50s and the like. And as I came to the bottom of Delamere Street where it joins Flag Lane round by the Old Vine, a pre-Farina A50 estate turned up into the street in front of me. I remember thinking to myself “how lucky – the only abandoned cars you see around here these days are old Morris Minors”

Yes, nostalgia ain’t what it used to be, is it?

Wednesday 7th August 2013 – Yum Yum Yum

home made apple pie brussels belgium august aout 2013Yes indeed – tonight’s tea included a generous slice of home-made apple pie and soya ice cream.

I have to be honest and say that the apple pie is not one of my best – it’s overcooked, unfortunately (not burnt).

I am the first to say that I have a lot to learn when it comes to baking, but I’m never going to learn if I don’t have a go and at least it’s not an absolute disaster like my pear tart on the Ile D’Yeu.

The agent immobilier came round this afternoon with a few clients but no-one interesting.

One of them implied that he would make me an offer, but his sickly, smarmy smile told me everything that I needed to know about the kind of offer that he was likely to make so I told him not to waste my time or his time.

Someone else has made an offer on the place but the agent immobilier told them to save their breath.

The thing about offers of this nature is that the market is rather stagnant and there are people in Brussels with cash, so they wander around and make derisory offers, waving the used oncers under the nose of a suitable victim in the hope that he will crack.

Not that I’m complaining about this – that was exactly how I bought Expo, except that I only pretended to have the cash. If you were a follower of the old Xoom blog you will recall the panic that I had and the efforts that I had to make when my bluff was called.

Apart from that, I was up waayyyyyy before the alarm and I’ve done the additional notes for the next batch of Radio Anglais recordings and I’ve made a start on the main text.

With a bit of luck, God’s help and a bobby, that might be finished tomorrow and so I can crack on with other things.

Tuesday 6th August 2013 – I PROMISE YOU …

av jeanne ixelles 1050 brussels belgium bad parking august aout 2013… that this shall be the last time that I’ll mention parking.

So here’s a photo of two different vehicles well-advanced in front of the rear limit for parking, and this time a car parked here in the foreground and overhanging the pedestrian crossing.

What more can I say …“haven’t you said enough?” – ed

Meanwhile in other news, the first of the furniture has gone from the apartment. Nothing large or bulky though, but nevertheless it’s a start. I’m now €20 richer than I was before, so “spend, spend spend!”, hey?

But this blasted agent immobilier is thoroughly getting on my wick. She’s uncovered another problem now – that the monthly service fees are so astronomical that no-one will buy the apartment (and so she will lose her commission of course).

“I know they are” I told her. “Marianne was on a very limited income and so when the boiler was repaired in 2009 and the lift was overhauled in 2011 she didn’t have the money to pay her share”.

“Consequently the gerance of the building arranged two loans for her (and for other people too) for their shares and the monthly repayments are included in the service fees”.

“And if you remember “I continued “I mentioned this to the people who came this weekend and I told them expressly that these loans would be paid off at the sale and so they will have no implication for any new purchaser”.

“Well I spoke to your notaire and they know nothing about it” she wailed, and that angered me, her not believing a single word that I told her and her clients

“That’s hardly surprising” I retorted, “seeing as how my notaire is on holiday. You probably were put through to the teaboy.”
And on and on and on she wailed until I lost patience and told her to f*** off.

5 minutes later I had someone from the notaire on the telephone. “Will you tell that blasted Madame Blum to stop flaming well ringing us up every 5 sodding minutes about your flaming apartment. It’s getting on our blasted nerves”.

Yes, this stupid woman is the cause of more problems here than she solves.

Everything is a crisis for her, every reaction is a panic. She’s frightening away more customers than she’s recruiting, thanks to her attitude, and also with her business practices, about which I shall have much more to say at a later date.

But doing business with her is a nightmare. She is making problems out of nothing at all.

And apart from that, when I had the time (which as you can see, wasn’t as much as I would have liked) I did the two radio programmes for the Radio Anglais rock shows on Radio Tartasse.

I have to do two because I’m away at the end of September (I hope, unless there’s another crisis) so I’m recording two months’ worth at the end of August.

Tomorrow I’ll start to attack the rest of the programmes.

If the blasted agent immobilier lets me. What a shambles.

Monday 5th August 2013 – I’VE BEEN HAVING …

… a bad day today.

Yes, I do have them every now and again. even though I had a restful day yesterday and a decent night’s sleep, I just couldn’t get going today and I’ve no idea why.

Not only did I not do the things that I was going to do, I didn’t do any of the optional stuff either.

I really need to get a grip and sort myself out otherwise I’m going to be here for ever at this rate.

However, my adverts all over cyberspace are coming up trumps and I’m fielding loads of enquiries about the apartment and the stuff that I have to sell, although I’ve yet to have any visits, let alone any sales.

Hopefully this might improve as time goes on, especially as the agent immobilier wants to bring people round on Wednesday.

I’ve also been thinking more about my mega-voyage in … gulp … just 3 weeks time. I have to sort that out too.

In other news, a Press Release from the Metropolitan Police says that they have accepted responsibility for the death of Ian Tomlinson, the newspaper vendor attacked by a policeman with previous convictions for violence.

“I apologise unreservedly for Simon Harwood’s use of excessive and unlawful force which caused Mr Tomlinson’s death, and for the suffering and distress caused to his family as a result.” says the Deputy Assistant Commissioner (not the Assistant Commissioner and not the Commissioner either) of the Metropolitan Police Force.

Harwood, by the way, was found not guilty of Manslaughter.

Meanwhile, in other news, a nightclub bouncer who saw an off-duty policeman hit a woman and so pushed him to the ground – hitting his head and killing him, and who was told by a Judge that “I am absolutely certain that you meant no serious harm to (the victim)” – he’s just received three and a half years for Manslaughter.

“One law for the rich, and one for the poor …”

Sunday 4th August 2013 – YOU’VE BEEN SPARED …

… another discussion and more photos of the parking around here – not because of the fact that there was nothing to report (there was in fact even more than in the last few days) but because I’ve had other things to do.

I told you last night that I would go and visit Marianne today and give her a progress report, which I duly did. Her grave has been restored from the last time I was there, and it’s grown a basket of flowers – obviously someone else has been to visit her.

Her headstone hasn’t arrived yet though, but then again what I have ordered for her will not be the work of 5 minutes.

On my way to her grave I pass by the military section of the cemetery, where soldiers who died during the defence of the city in August 1914 and May 1940 are buried.

There’s also a section that deals with the civilian victims of the two World Wars and I went for a wander around that part of the cemetery today.

Many people, mostly British and Americans, tend to criticise, sometimes vehemently, the citizens of many occupied countries for what they see as their collaboration with the occupying powers during the wars.

They also criticise those in Syria, Iraq and Afghanistan who are standing their ground and fighting the occupying powers, but that is by the way of course.

But these British and American critics of the civilians in these occupied countries are being extremely naive. They simply have no conception of what was going on and what it must have been like to live in these countries.

Nazi execution victims Ixelles cemetery Brussels belgium august aout 2013Here are a handful of the hundreds of graves in this part of the cemetery – people who died after falling into the hands of the occupying powers.

If you enlarge the photo you will notice the legends thereupon – “FUSILLE” (shot), “EXECUTE” (executed), “DECAPITE” (decapitated) and all of the hundreds of graves here, of both men and women, bear similar legends.

And none of these legends tells you anything about the sufferings that they must have undergone at the hands of the Gestapo before the Gestapo tired of amusing itself with them and sent them on their way.

Yes, it’s easy to criticise people for collaborating with the enemy when there’s a whole ocean or a sea between you and the enemy. The British and Americans would think twice then.

I don’t seem to recall the British inhabitants of the Channel Islands putting up too much of a fight when they were occupied by the Nazis – in fact they even sat on their hands for 10 months, slowly starving to death, after the war had passed them by.

They couldn’t even seize the initiative then when the Germans no longer had anything to fight for.

civilian victims world war 1 Ixelles cemetery Brussels belgium august aout 2013There’s also a section for civilian casualties of the Germans in World War I.

Back then in those days the Germans made no secret whatsoever of their policy of “frighfulness” towards the civilian population. All kinds of atrocities were committed upon the civilian population.

All kinds of people were caught up in the dragnet during World War I and in this photo you’ll see graves of a couple of British civilians and a couple of French civilians, as well as some Belgian civilian graves.

The flat at Boulevard Reyers where I lived for a few years, that backed onto the Tir National – the National Firing Range – and that was where people who were singled out for “special attention” by the German occupying forces were executed, and subsequently buried.

Edith Cavell was shot there, and many famous people from World War I and II, and many SOE operatives who were running escape lines across occupied Europe and who fell into the hands of the Gestapo are buried in there.

Even more poignant are the graves of the “unknown” – no-one knows who they were and why they attracted the special attention of the Gestapo. From the one or two survivors of this kind of treatment, the suffering was appalling and death was often a merciful release.

Leaving Marianne’s grave, I heard a familiar sound in the distance – yes, a referee’s whistle. The football season has restarted here in Belgium and it seems that there’s a football club here in Ixelles – the Royal Ixelles Sporting Club.

They play at the sports ground down the hill from the cemetery and today, they were at home to La Hulpe in Division 3b of the Provincial League of Brabant, so I was informed.

Royal Ixelles Sporting Club de football La Hulpe belgium august aout 2013And so I went for a nosey around, like you do … "like SOME of you do" – ed …

The standard was pretty dire, I have to say. FC Pionsat St Hilaire could have defeated both these teams without drawing too much breath, but at least it was football and so that cheered me up considerably.

I was wondering what I was going to do for my weekly football fix while I’m living here, and now I know. It’s played on artificial turf, but I don’t suppose you can have everything.

Reminds me of that gridiron player asked by a television reporter if he preferred grass or astroturf, replying “hey man, I ain’t ever smoked astroturf”

local authority social housing Ixelles Brussels belgium august aout 2013But never mind the stadium itself. That’s quite a modern edifice, but it’s surrounded by Council Houses and Council Flats and not just any old council houses either.

If you’ve seen my page onthe houses built by the Peabody Trust in London, you might recognise the influence.

Brussels was also a slum-ridden city at the turn of the 20th Century and a great deal of effort was put into rehousing some of the inhabitants of the worst areas.

The earliest social housing was in the centre of the city but by the 1920s the city was building out in the suburbs and I reckon that this might be one of those

So there you are – 4 photographs and 1002 words. You really ARE having your money’s worth today, and on my day of rest too.

Still, back to work tomorrow.

Saturday 3rd August 2013 – THIS PARKING THING …

bad parking avenue jeanne 1050 ixelles brussels belgium august aout 2013… is getting out of hand.

As you can see, we’ve changed the car in the foreground (and several times too) but there’s still a good 6 feet or so of wasted space behind it.

As for the car in the background, that’s not moved now for over a week I reckon, still losing half a car’s length of space.

But apart from that I was up at the usual time, breakfasted, and then started sorting out the books.

And I reckoned that my ship had come in when I spotted a copy of “Si on Parlait des Miracles?” and, upon opening the flyleaf, the author had signed it with a dedication to Marianne.

So hot-footing it to an on-line second-hand book shop, I was going to make my fortune.

However, there are about 50 of these copies for sale there, and erery flaming blasted last one of them is signed with a perishing dedication.

I’m surprised that the author didn’t catch writers’ cramp.

Ahh well.

So on with the motley and as I was preparing to go out and do some shopping came a ring on the bell.

The agent immobilier was back with one of the people from yesterday and all of his family – including a young kid of about 5 so Strawberry Moose was once more in his elephant.

Once they had all piddled off I went to the shops but I didn’t stay long, especially as I had forgotten my coolbox. And the rest of the day has been one of relaxing – I even made myself a coulis of kiwi and soja milk.

So tomorrow is Sunday and it’s a day of rest. I’ll go for a walk and say hello to Marianne, I reckon.

Friday 2nd August 2013 – I’VE BEEN BUSY TODAY

Due to the hot weather it was once again difficult to get off to sleep and so once again I had a little trouble trying to find my feet when the alarm went off. But I didn’t let any of that stop me.

The apartment now looks as if someone normal lives here, which makes a great change from how it was when I came back the other day. I don’t mind letting people come to visit now.

And there were two visitors, a young guy and also a woman. The latter brought her daughter with her, which pleased Strawberry Moose greatly as it meant that he had a hug.

I took full advantage of their presence, of course, by announcing that all of the furniture is up for sale too. One may as well try to kill several birds with one stone.

But in more important news, I’ve located the Belgian equivalent of Craigslist or Leboncoin, thanks to someone (whose name I have regrettably forgotten) on Facebook.

It’s called 2ememain and so I’ve advertised the apartment and I’ve also started to add the furniture, but it’s soooo sloooowwwwwwwwwwww to do that.

Still, a faint heart never won a fair maiden and all of that.

Tomorrow is of course shopping but I don’t want much and in any case I need to wait until the agent immobilier has called me. She says 13:30 but that could be any time between now and next Thursday.

Not the best at punctuality.

Thursday 1st August 2013 – MORON PARKING

avenue Jeanne 1050 Ixelles Brussels Bruxelles bad parking belgium august aout 2013Even though you might think that this is a mistype for “more on parking”, and even though you might think that “more on parking” might be appropriate, I can assure you that I meant what I typed.

That’s because, further to my post of yesterday, we have three morons now taking up the space that any four real drivers would take up.

It’s certainly exciting, watching the unskilled of Brussels try to cope with modern-day technology.

But one thing that we must never lose sight of is that the driving test wasn’t introduced here until 1973, and there are all kinds of jokes about driving licences being given free as promotional offers in boxes of cornflakes and the like.

But anyway, this morning it was for some reason or other a struggle to leave my stinking pit but eventually I struggled to the coffee machine.

After that, and the customary hour or two on the computer, I attacked the apartment and you might find this hard to believe but it actually looks like a normal person’s living space and I’m exhausted.

Even the kitchen has been steam-cleaned and that’s a first since I ended up on my own here.

Tomorrow I’ll be giving everywhere a quick whizz round and then making a whole sheaf of adverts for distributing everywhere. I need to start moving on all of this furniture and stuff.

But like I said, there doesn’t seem to be any rush. This apartment isn’t going to sell itself very quickly

Wednesday 31st July 2013 – TODAY’S SUBJECT IS …

bad parking belgium july juillet 2013… parking

And how Belgian drivers don’t have a clue. If you look very carefully at the two cars in this photograph, you’ll see that the nearer one has under-run the parking line by a good 4 feet, encroaching upon all of the vehicles further down the street.

Consequently, when the vehicles in front of him change during the course of the day, someone will find himself 4 feet short of a parking space, in a street that already has quite a bit of pressure on parking.

As for the car in the distance, he’s encroaching by half a car’s length and you can see already that there’s a space in front of him that no car could ever hope to fill. The words “stupid” and “selfish” spring immediately to mind.

avenue jeanne 1050 ixelles bruxelles motorist receives parking ticket belgium july juillet 2013The outcome of this is inevitable and I didn’t have to wait too long.

Some other motorist in a hurry to go to the boulangerie or the newspaper shop across the road can’t find a parking place handy and so takes a risk by parking behind the other car, encroaching upon the zebra crossing.

And here’s a nice photograph of the driver having a “frank exchange of views” with the Council employee who has just given him a €15 fixed penalty ticket.

Yes, Belgians just don’t “get it”, do they?

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, after a disturbed night’s sleep during which I had a bad attack of cramp and also had to go for a ride on the porcelain horse a couple of times, I struggled out of bed this morning and wasn’t feeling much like it for a while.

However, I eventually came round and then attacked this web page that I have been promising myself. And here it is, in all its glory and all nicely finished off.

All I need to do now is instead of advertising each individual item of furniture etc, I just advertise the web page.

The prices are really all “best guess” because I don’t have much of a clue. If anyone has any suggestions, don’t hesitate to make them.

However, there’s no urgency. This place won’t be sold in a week. Despite telling the Agent Immobilier yesterday that he can ring me next week for visits (when this place ought to be tidied), his oppo rang me today insisting on bringing someone round on Friday.

So after I gave her a piece of my mind … “do you have that much to spare?” – ed … the conversation went something like this …
Estate agent “is it okay to bring someone round on Friday afternoon then?”
Our hero “yes, I’ll be here”
EA “what time?”
OH “whenever’s convenient. I’m not going anywhere”
EA “is 4pm okay then?”
OH “yes, fine”
EA “or what about 5pm then?”
OH “whatever suits you best”
EA “well, how about 4:45 then?”

Well, quite! No wonder that they are struggling.

The place will be a tip because I won’t have finished, but whoever will be coming will just have to make the best of it.

Tuesday 30th July 2013 – I’M HAVING A …

… bad day today!

And I missed some of it too because at about 15:30 I went and crashed out for 90 minutes. That’s just how it was.

Mind you, I was up long before the alarm and I don’t remember much of my dream except that there were two people in it who were green, something similar to Fantômas in the series of Louis de Funès films.

After breakfast I made piles of space in the living room and in the big bedroom and photographed almost everything that there is to sell.

My plan is to make a web page of articles for sale and then advertise it on places like Craigslist and so on, and have a kind of open day or two.

But here’s no rush because the Estate Agent called me again today. His pool of clients has now whittled itself down to zero and so he wants to restart the visits. Consequently we had a brief discussion.

Three times he’s “sold” this apartment “subject to the availability of finance” and three times the “availability of finance” has not been forthcoming. High time he presented some serious clients.

Apart from that, a lunchtime and at tea time (and the second portion of my potato pie was even better) I’ve been watchin the John Wayne film The Undefeated – and watching it open-mouthed.

Although this was the film that directly followed True Grit , it has to be one of the worst main feature John Wayne films that I have ever seen.

It’s a rambling, shambolic 100 minutes of tiny little sub-plots with just the vaguest hint of story stringing them along. It’s as if someone has taken a TV series of 26×50-minute episodes and made a collage out of the highlights.

His character in the film, by the way, is called “John Thomas” – probably because the film is all c*ck.

In other news, the BBC tells us today that “for years the Arab world’s dictators kept radical Islamic groups in check but the uprisings of 2011 gave them freedom to operate more openly”.

Anyone who has been following this load of rubbish for any length of time will be only too well aware that I’ve been saying since the Iraqi invasion over 10 years ago that the west will end up regretting the overthrow of Saddam Hussein and his like.

Truth travels slowly but it’s finally reached the BBC.

Trouble with me is that I’m 10 years ahead of my time.