Tag Archives: bruxelles midi

Sunday 20th January 2019 – IT’S BEEN BUILDING …

… up for a while so it’s no surprise that I was going to have a bad day sooner or later. But to have one on the day that I’m travelling is not what I was expecting at all.

Possibly it was the late-ish night that didn’t help, or possibly it was the fact that I couldn’t drop off to sleep..Or maybe even the fact that I awoke at about 05:40. But whatever it was, it wasn’t very good.

Still, no point in holding off the inevitable. I crawled out of bed.

No medication, and no breakfast either. Instead, I had a shower, a clean-up and a change of clothes, and then unplugged all of the electrical appliances (although I realised later that I had still left a few plugged in).

Packing the food and making the butties was next. A quick bit of cleaning up and tidying was next and then I hit the streets.

It was a long, lonely, difficult crawl up to the railway station and I really didn’t feel at all like it.

When I arrived at the station the garrulous cleaner was there so we had a little chat about things.

Luckily the train was in so I quickly grabbed a coffee and clambered aboard to my seat. I could sit and eat my breakfast in comfort while I waited for things to happen.

The train set off bang on time and that’s always encouraging, but my optimism didn’t last all that long. We’d only travelled a few miles before there was a call over the PA ystem “could any doctor or nurse on board make themselves known to the ticket collector?”.

Is there a doctor in the house? I hadn’t realised that I looked so bad.

But as it happens, it wasn’t for me.

Our train made an unscheduled stop at Folligny and all of a sudden there were a lot of people running around outside. Eventually, an ambulance pulled up on the station forecourt and the emergency personnel started to run around.

Round about this time I dozed off to sleep but by the time that I awoke we had the SAMU here too. And after a good while they evacuated a person on a stretcher. Judging by the heavy covers over the stretcher and the lack of urgency of the emergency personnel, it can’t have been good news for whoever it was.

75 minutes late, we headed off on our route. I made sure that I had the ticket collector sign my ticket to say that the train was delayed. It’s going to be touch-and-go for me to catch my TGV in Paris.

At Villedieu-les-Poeles I was joined by a fellow-passenger – a charming lady. I was looking forward to some convivial company but she just buried her head in her book and that was that.

70 minutes late at Montparnasse-Vaugirard so I had to move fairly rapidly – the last thing that I felt like. I was interrupted too by some African woman who wanted me to tell her the directions to somewhere or other – but what do I know?

We had a long wait for a metro too. This wasn’t looking good. And it was crowded too but I managed to grab a folding seat and make a start on my butties.

Much to my surprise, when I arrived at Paris Gare du Nord our train was already at the platform. She is our old friend PBKA 4304. We’ve travelled on this one on several occasions

Even more surprisingly I found that I still had half an hour to wait before I could board the train. I hadn’t been delayed as long as I thought. There was even a free seat in the public area for me to sit and finish off my lunch and that was even more surprising.

We were allowed on board the train early and I ended up with another charming and personable companion. But she was busy on her telephone so I curled up and went to sleep – just waking up long enough to have my ticket inspected.

The train arrived in Brussels a few minutes early which was very nice. I actually had plenty of time to buy my ticket for my train to Leuven.

That was on time too so it wasn’t long before I was in Leuven. A nice comfortable ride in a nice comfortable train.

But winter is here in Leuven, that’s for sure. It’s minus 2°C and there’s plenty of frost lying about all over the place.

At my little lodgings there is no trace of my passport unfortunately, but at least my room is warm and comfortable. I unpacked everything and then, shame as it is to admit it, I crashed out. And for two hours too. I was well away with the fairies.

I was awake later long enough to walk into town to pick up a pizza. After all, it is Sunday.

One thing that I noticed was that the Tiensestraat is closed off and they’ve dug up the road. Judging by the look of things it seems to be something to do with the drainage. But whatever it is, it will keep them out of mischief for a while.

My pizza was absolutely delicious and I really enjoyed it.

But I was soon back in bed. I just can’t last the pace these days, can I?

medical emergency gare du folligny manche normandy france

drainage work tiensestraat leuven belgie

Thursday 27th December 2018 – THE ONLY PROBLEM …

… with going to bed early is that despite all of my best efforts, I end up waking up early.

But no danger of me leaving the stinking pit at 04:50. Instead I turned over and tried to go back to sleep until the alarm at 06:00.

I’d been on my travels too. I was making some coconut macaroons so I’d deep-fried the mandarin oranges and I’d assembled a pile of desiccated coconut but I couldn’t remember what else to put in them. And so I was scratching around trying to find a recipe.

When the alarm went off, I was up quite quickly and finished the packing. I left some stuff behind but all that I could practically take, I brought with me.

It was a good plan to come home today because there was almost no-one around. At the station, I arrived just as the express from Genk pulled in. And it was still there by the time I had bought my ticket so I leapt aboard. Usually it’s packed to the gunwhales but today it was quite empty as the commuters have another day off.

No-one in the queue at the Carrefour supermarket on the station where I bought my raisin buns for breakfast, and I forgot AGAIN about the chemists – to see if the one on the station would be open.

Our train was our old friend 4304 – one of the Thalys PBKA (Paris, Brussels, Köln, Amsterdam) trainsets from the mid-90s. Nice and comfortable but starting to show its age like most of them.

There were a few spare seats on board too so we weren’t too hemmed in. I sent the journey to Paris reading a book in comparative comfort.

At the Gare du Nord I stepped onto the Metro platform just as a train pulled in. And that was empty too. I had a seat all the way to Montparnasse which was just as well because this lt in my luggage was heavy.

As I negotiated my way around Montparnasse, Rosemary rang me. And we had a little chat for a few minutes. Then I had to nip down to Vaugirard for my train.

It was already there so I had to shift someone out of my seat before I could make myself comfortable. And it was cold on there too. Ice and frost everywhere and as we left the station we rolled into a thick bank of fog that came with us all the way to Granville.

Not that I know all about it because I had a little doze along the way.

Outside the station I was almost squidged by a woman driver who doesn’t seem to understand the principle of a zebra crossing.

It was a struggle to come back here. I was definitely feeling the strain of all of my exertions. But I eventually made it back and I was glad, even though it was cold in here.

I haven’t done much since I’ve been back. Just some unpacking (but not all of it) and made my tea (a burger and the veg that I brought back).

Later on, I went for my usual evening walk around the headland.

By now, the fog had come down and closed in and it wasn’t very easy to see anything. Everything outside was swathed in a surreal orange glow thanks to the reflection of the street lights.

It wasn’t thick enough to dissuade the fishing boats from working. There were plenty of those unloading in the harbour tonight.

So now I’m off for an early night. I’ve earned it, and I need it too. But whether I’ll get it is another thing. You know how things are these days.

night fog fishing boats port de granville harbour manche normandy france

Friday 21st December 2018 – THE BODY CLOCK …

… wasn’t working as well as I would have liked this morning. It took the alarm to rouse me from the depths of wherever it was.

And two alarms too, because with having issues about upgrades on telephones switching them off at important times, I’ve resurrected an ancient mobile phone to act as an alarm back-up for when I need to be up and about.

No breakfast as yet, and no medication either. I can’t afford the distractions right now. So instead, I made my sandwiches, did the washing up, took out all the rubbish and then vacuumed the place. On my way out, I washed the floor behind me too.

Dressed up like Nanook of the North, I sallied forth into the open air, only to find that it was 13°C outside. I hadn’t gone more than a couple of hundred yards before I was sweating. It was something of a struggle with all of the stuff that I was taking with me.

Our train was already in the station but we weren’t allowed on it quite yet.

So while I was waiting I grabbed a coffee and admired the destination boards showing that trains from Caen and Rennes were also expected in the station.

That’s really good news from anyone’s point of view, especially mine. It’s nice to see an expanded railway service and might well prolong the active life of the railway station here.

The journey to Paris was pretty uneventful. I’d settled down in my seat and taken the bananas and packet of biscuits from my pockets. Along with the bottle of ginger beer that I had left over from my trip to Germany earlier this year and the coffee from the machine on the station, that was my breakfast.

I had made sure that I had a good view of the Eiffel Tower today. But fates conspired against me yet again, because it was shrouded in mist.

One of these days I’ll be able to have a really good of it and take an excellent photo. But I’m not holding my breath.

The railway station – Montparnasse-Vaugirard – was comparatively empty compared to how it usually is on a Sunday. The metro, however, was heaving although I was lucky enough to grab a seat by the door.

Plenty of time at Paris-Nord to eat my butties and read my book, and then off for my train. The arrival was about 10 minutes late so we had to wait a while while they cleaned it out, and then we could board.

It’s not one of the usual PBKA sets, but one of the Reseau 38000 tri-volt sets – known in the vernacular as the PBA sets because they don’t go to Cologne.

This one here, 4540, was the last to be built.

We set off on time, and hurtled off into the void. But I hurtled off elsewhere into my own little world for about 15 minutes.

Not only did we leave on time, we arrived on time too but we couldn’t disembark straight away as they had to uncouple the Amsterdam portion of the train. And so I missed the 15:52 to Leuven and had to wait for the next one.

This one was late and the third train arrived. So I legged it down the station and up onto the platform for that one, just in time to see it leave the station. And so I had to leg it all the way back to where I’d just been. And that wasn’t easy, with all of my luggage,

The train that I eventually caught was hauled by one of the SNCB Class 27 locomotives.

Built in the eary 80s, they and their sisters (because there are four almost identical classes) are the principle source of motive power on the SNCB

Their claim to fame is highlighted by the fact that one of this class, locomotive 2711, set a world record on 27th April 1991 by pulling 70 carriages from Gent to Oostende – the world’s longest ever passenger train.

The carriages of the train though were like something out of the 1960s. Probably the oldest on which I have travelled for a while. Old bench seats, poorly upholstered, just like something out of history.

And as we passed the carriage sidings at Schaerbeek, full of disaffected multiple-units awaiting dismantling, I wondered just how long it would be before these carriages join them.

I’ve a nice little room here at Condo Gardens. Up on the first floor overlooking the illuminated courtyard. I hope that I’ll be nice and comfortable here.

But I still went off to DelHaize for my shopping. The lights were on at the DenDreefStadion so I went down there to see if there was a match. But the place was all locked up, so I went back to the shops.

I spent a pile here too, but it is Christmas, and they do have (expensive) vanilla-flavoured soya ice-cream. And a pineapple too, ready-peeled and cored. So that’s pudding sorted out for the next few days.

Tea was some potatoes that I had brought with me, with atin of spicy beans and some frozen peas and carrots. Followed by some pineapple and ice-cream. That’s what I call a delightful meal.

It might only be 21:10 but I’m exhausted. I don’t even have the energy to watch a film. So I’m going to make the best of it and have a really early night in my warm, comfy bed. I’m going into town tomorrow morning.

Wednesday 28th November 2018 – I DID MY BEST …

… to have an early night last night. In bed at some respectable time but not able to go to sleep. And when I did I was awake again at 01:45.

But the body clock is working well again, for I was awake bolt-upright at 05:59, just seconds before the alarm went off.

With having done almost everything last night, it didn’t take me long to clean up and make sure that I had everything. And by 06:25 I was on my way.

There was a train at 06:52 for Brussels. One of the old dirty, filthy, graffiti-covered AM80 multiple units heading for Quievrain down on the French border.

The lack of care and attention that these are receiving – surprising for the SNCB – tells me that these trains are the next to go under the cutter’s torch, and fairly soon too, I reckon. They aren’t far off being 40 years old and haven’t in the main had an overhaul for nearly 25 years.

Our train was pretty crowded too but I managed to find a seat where I could settle down for the journey. And as we passed though the various stations in Brussels the train emptied rapidly.

At the Gare du Midi I went into the Carrefour and bought my raisin buns for breakfast, and a packet of crisps and a bottle of water as emergency supplies.

And then a wait for the TGV.

It should have departed at 08:13 but when I went up to the platform it was ominously marked “12 minutes late”. And by the time we left, we were 25 minutes behind schedule.

That’s enough to give me the willies as I don’t have too much time to change stations in Paris and it’s quite a hike across the city.

It was packed to the gunwhales too – not a spare seat anywhere. hardly surprising that even when I booked my tickets I couldn’t have a corridor seat.

We didn’t make up any time either and it was 25 minutes late that we pulled into Paris Gare du Nord.

I’m not into running about these days but I pushed on as quickly as I could. I was lucky with the metro in that I didn’t have to wait too long, and there were no delays. I chose a position right by where the exit to the platform at Montparnasse would be, and so I could step off the train and straight out of the station.

With no delays on the way, and no other incidents, I could push on and arrived at Vaugirard with 10 minutes to spare.

The train was already loading so I composted my tickets and leapt aboard. There was someone sitting in my reserved seat ao I was obliged to heave him out so that I could sit down.

There was plenty that I needed to do on the way back, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. Instead, I had a good sleep and that made me feel a little better.

We pulled in to Granville bang on time, which makes a pleasant change. And I stepped off the train straight into a wicked, high wind.

There’s a train timed to go out at about 15 minutes after ours arrives and I had always thought that ours did a simple turn-around. But apparently not. There was another train parked in the platform next to ours and all of the passengers for the afternoon trip to Paris were piling aboard.

I’m not too sure about the logic of running another train on the return. If I had invested as much money in captial equipment as the SNCF had, I would want it out there working and generating passenger income as much as possible

I stopped at the boulangerie on the way home for a baguette. I didn’t want to fetch any bread out of the freezer.

It’s good to be back home, even if it was cold in here. But the heating soon dealt with that issue.

After a very late lunch I started to unpack but I can’t keep it up like I used to of course. I ended up crashing out on my chair at the desk in the office. And I was away for quite a while too.

With lunch being so late, I was in no mood for tea so I simply stirred a few papers around in here and then went for a walk. I was on 90% of my daily activity so I didn’t go far, which was hardly surprising because, if anything, the wind had increased.

All of the fishing boats were now coming up to the fishing quay by the processing plant. There was quite a line of them waiting to unload, rather like the queue at the self-scanners in a supermarket.

You can see how strongly the wind was blowing by looking at the waves in this photo. And remember that this is actually inside the tidal harbour. You can imagine what it must have been like outside the harbour, but this wasn’t the weather for going for a look.

Strangely enough, I wasn’t tired now so not having had my lie-in on Sunday I switched off the alarm and watched something on the internet.

It’s now 02:30 and I suppose that I’d better make an effort to go to bed. I’ll be still here in the morning if I don’t make an effort.

Sunday 25th November 2018 – I WAS REALLY …

… Looking forward to my good night’s sleep, having made a determined effort to have an early night. But it all went wrong round about 01:45 when I awoke with a severe attack of cramp. So severe was it that all of my usual methods of relaxing the muscles failed to work and I ended up hopping around the apartment in agony until I could reset the leg;

It didn’t take me long to go back to sleep either. And when I did, I was away with the fairies again. On board ship, yet again, but this time on the way to Whittlesea Bay where Mrs Povey was busy organising the support for the local carnival. I really must stop listening to all of these episodes of the Navy Lark.

The body clock was working fine and I was awake before the two alarms. As a fall-back I have configured an older mobile phone to work as an alarm clock when it’s important, in case we have another upgrade.

No breakfast – just to back up the computer onto the travel memory stick attached to the keyring. And then to make my sandwiches, pack my rucksack,take out the rubbish and do some cleaning up.

It was raining outside, so I sorted out my raincoat again and had a rather wet and weary trudge through the dampened streets.

The tide was in so there were several fishing boats tied up at the quay by the fish-processing plants, unloading last night’s catch.

This one here has a great set of lights for seeing what it’s doing. It might be the same brightly-lit one that we’ve seen on a couple of previous occasions just now.

The town was quite deserted, as you might expect at this time of a sunday morning.

I mentioned the other day that they had begun to install the Christmas lights and I’d noticed last night that some of them were illuminated.

And so I suppose that I had better take a photo of them illuminated while there is no-one abot.

At the station I reckon that whoever had used the coffee machine before me had had a hot chocolate, because my coffee didn’t half taste strange.

There was a very friendly cleaner on the railway station and we had a very interesting while waiting for my train to arrive. There are all kinds of changes happening on the railways with the Caen-Rennes trains being diverted to pass by Granville, the doubling of the line between Dol-de-Bretagne and Avranches and the reinforcement of the shuttle service between Pontorson and Mont St Michel.

This is all good news, because there has been some talk about the possibility of closing the railway station and putting everyone on buses. But here we have an example of stopping one of the buses here (the bus to Folligny station) and increasing the rail connection. I’m keen to see how this is going to develop.

The train wasn’t all that full at first, although I had a couple of people witting opposite me. But slowly, little by little, the train filled up as advanced towards Paris. By the time that we arrived at L’Aigle the train was packed.

Somewhere between L’Aigle and Verneuil sur Ayre we stampeded a herd of deer in a field by the railway line. It must be that time of the year now, with the hunters starting to come out.

As we pulled into Paris, I admired the courage of the lady opposite who started to reapply her lipstick as the train rattled over all of the sets of points. I didn’t get to see the finished job but it must really have been something

The station at Montparnasse-Vaugirard wasn’t quite the chaos that it has been for the last few Sundays but it was crowded all the same. The Metro was pretty crowded too and I had to stand all the way up to the Gare du Nord.

At Gare du Nord I was lucky to find a seat where I could eat my butties but we had a rather curious incident there.

Some woman pushed a goblet with money in it under my nose. Thanking her, I took the contents. It was several Moroccan coins and a British sixpence. I put them in my pocket.

She then made a gesture, pointing to her mouth, saying “money – eat”.
I told her that she would break her teeth, eating money.

She then pointed to her belly, saying – “eat – baby”
I replied that if she has eaten a whole baby she would get indigestion.

This kind of desultory conversation continued for a few minutes and then she wandered off elsewhere.

Our TGV was packed to the gunwhales. Not a spare seat anywhere.

Luckily I was one of the first on board so I didn’t have to scramble for my seat, which was right down at the far end of the coach.

I spent most of the journey in a deep and profound sleep – with just one awakening to let my seating companion out, and another one for me to visit the bathroom.

We were bang on time in Brussels but so was the 15:42 to Leuven, which meant that I missed it. But there was another one right behind – at 15:56 to Eupen

That was 5 minutes late so there was quite a crowd gathered for it. Luckily I was right at the front so I was able to grab a seat but those who boarded the train at the middle had to walk the whole length of the train before they could find somewhere.

Here in Leuven it was freezing cold and foggy and I had a bitter walk all the way to my digs.

I’m in a room at the top overlooking the courtyard – I’ve not been in one of these before.

Tonight is pizza night so I had a stroll into town in the rain to the place that does my special pizzas.

They’ve put up the Christmas lights in the Tiensestraat, although they seem to be somewhat feeble. I was expecting to see much more than this.

It’s a sign of the times, I suppose.

Back here, I had my tea, and then a shower and clothes wash.

And it seems that I’ve forgotten to bring a spare pair of trousers so I hope that these will dry for the morning.

With the computer locking up, I decided to have an early night. 121% of my daily activity is enough for any man and I have a busy day tomorrow?

rue lecampion granville manche normandy france

Wednesday 31st October 2018 – THE BODY CLOCK …

… is working well again to day.

Never mind the awakening at 01:30 – that’s the kind of thing that happens quite regularly these days, but the being wide-awake at 05:20 can only be good news, especially as I needed an early start.

The downside of all of this is despite being off on yet another nocturnal voyage during the night, all that I can remember is that I was shepherding around another group of young ladies. But as for why, I don’t have a clue now and isn’t that disappointing when I’ve spend the evening with a bunch of bouncing beauties?

06:10 I was out of bed and it took me just 2 minutes to pack the rest of my stuff.

But not all of it.

I’ve lost the top off one of my little water bottles – one of the ones that I use to bring soya milk and fruit juice with me when I come on a Sunday.

Well, when I say “lost it” what I mean is that I seem to have brought with me the top off one of the bottles that I didn’t need and so threw away. And I must have thrown away the good top with the bad bottle, if you see what I mean.

Anyway, by 06:30 I was on my way to the railway station and it’s a long time since I’ve been out and about this early.

And doesn’t the station look beautiful in the artificial lighting?

At the railway station, instead of catching the 07:09, the 06:36 was rather late so I hopped on that without having to wait around at all.

As a result I was early in Brussels, but the Carrefour in the station was open so that I could pick up some raisin buns and some fruit for breakfast.

I didn’t have to wait long – just long enough to eat my breakfast in fact, before we were ushered up onto the platform for our train.

And on there in the windswept weather the train soon put in its appearance and we could clamber aboard. And just for a change, I was first on board.

And then we had to wait.

dDe to the late arrival of the portion of the train that arrives from Amsterdam, the TGV was 12 minutes late leaving the station.

It was one of the same rather elderly TGVs but it was much cleaner and tidier inside than usual, although there was no water in the washrooms.

And the journey was so uneventful that I can’t remember a single thing about my seating companion

15 minutes late arriving in Paris Gare-du-Nord but the Metro was quite rapid and, for a change, half-empty.

And we were on the platform at Montparnasse-Vaugirard with 20 minutes to spare.

There wasn’t even enough time to have a look around. I’d only been there a couple of minutes before they called us up to the train. And I ended up sitting next to a nice young girl, but unfortunately she wasn’t interested in having a chat.

We set off on time too and for the first 30 minutes or so I caught up with my beauty sleep.

Once I’d woken up, I carried on with my “Voyages Of The Norsemen“.

Bearing in mind that the book was published 104 years ago, it’s a totally fascinating read.

For example, Hovgaard quote a beautiful story that “There is a tradition among the Eskimos in Labrador about a fierce race of men of gigantic size and strength, who delighted to kill people. But these men themselves could not be killed by either darts or arrows, which rebounded from their breast as from a rock”..

Can you think of a better description by isolated people of small stature when they talk about Europeans of the 14th, 15th and 16th Centuries dressed in breastplates? It’s now accepted unequivocally that Martin Frobisher did in fact reach and explore Baffin Island in the 1570s and breastplates would have been in his wardrobe, but it’s interesting to speculate about who might have been there before and dressed in breastplates too.

It’s a similar kind of situation that I mentioned years ago about the old Mi’kmaq legend of Glooscap building a giant canoe and planting trees in it, which can, from the isolated mind, be no better description of the building of a European ship by European people on the coast of Nova Scotia long before the arrival of John Cabot.

The train pulled in on time at Granville station, which is always good news.

Here on the platform we were met by a couple of giant pumpkins. It’s nice to see the SNCF employees enter into the spirit of Halloween.

And that wasn’t all either. All the way down into town I was assailed by all kinds of demons and ghoulies. Someone whom I knew was chased into a pit by the demons, but was dragged out by the ghoulies.

On the way past the boulangerie I stopped to pick up a baguette for lunch. It’s been a long day and I’m hungry.

On the way up the hill, I looked over the wall into the harbour.

There was Victor Hugo moored up, all dressed in some kind of corporate advertising as if she had been hired to go off on a private excursion

I heard somewhere that one of the Channel Islands ferries had been broken down for a month during the holiday season and had cost the operators a great deal of money.

And regular readers of this rubbish will recall that back in the summer I did mention that I hadn’t seen her sister for quite some considerable time.

I had a very late lunch and then for the rest of the day I vegetated. I had a visit from the neighbours who invited me for a drink on Saturday, and I managed a walk around the headland later.

But it’s cold. 11°C in here and this would ordinarily be the signal to switch on the heating. Winter has arrived at last and it’s only going to get colder.

But I’m not. I’m going to be and I’m going to stay there. It’s a Bank Holiday so there’s no alarm tomorrow. I intend to have The Sleep Of The Dead, so just you watch someone come along and spoil it.

Sunday 28th October 2018 – AND HERE I AM AGAIN!

Safely shored up in my home from home from home in the Dekenstraat in Leuven. All ready … “I don’t think” – ed … for my visit to Castle Anthrax tomorrow, where I hope that Doctors Piglet and Winston will be practising their arts (although, knowing me, I’ll end up with a retired Bulgarian discus-thrower).

Last night was another night that was later than intended too. But there’s nothing whatever wrong with my body clock because at 05:17 (which is 06:17 in real money) I awoke bolt-upright.

It goes without saying that I didn’t actually leave my stinking pit at that time though. I did at least wait for the alarms to go off before showing a leg, and then out to the medication as usual.

While I was waiting for the medication to work I made my butties for the road. It’s a long day of course with plenty of waiting about, usually in places where there isn’t any food or drink. And even if there is, I usually can’t eat it anyway.

After breakfast I did some tidying up – not much, and it’s the first time that I’ve ever gone away from home and left it in a tip. Due mainly to not having had the energy to clean it up this last week or so.

As I have said before, I can see myself going slowly downhill and one of the (many) reasons for keeping this blog is to keep a check on my health, my moods and my state of mind and to be able to compare it with entries from a while ago in order to plot the deterioration.

I definitely think that it was my efforts in the High Arctic that finished me off, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. As Neil Young once famously said, “it’s better to burn out than to fade away”.
My my! Hey hey?

Having taken the rubbish to the bins and having backed up the laptop, I trudged off my weary way to the station.

And it was weary too. Everything is in the big rucksack (which now has a broken clip due to an accident in the bedroom just now) and while that has worked in the past, it was a struggle today. But then again, dragging a small suitcase behind me would have been even more of a struggle. I’m just glad that I didn’t have the giant one to bring. I would never have managed with that today.

Much to my surprise, the train was on time at Granville. I grabbed a coffee from the machine and leapt aboard. I should have had a seating partner – a nice young girl – but the train wasn’t all that full so she toddled off to an empty seat nearby.

The silence and the emptiness didn’t last long because at Vire we were invaded by a trainload of boy and girl scouts. But they cleared off after a while to another part of the train.

Never mind the “by the time we got to Woodstock we were half a million strong” – I reckon that we were that many aboard the rain by the time we pulled into Montparnasse. And I’ve no idea why because the school holidays aren’t over yet.

Last time that I was here on a Sunday the whole place was heaving in total chaos. And it was just the same today. I’ve never seen so many people about on the station.

And the queues for the tickets for the Metro were enormous. It’s a good job that I still had one left over so I could proceed to the platform directly.

The Metro was heaving too but luckily I could grab a seat by the door and there I stayed. But I had noticed that carrying my rucksack seemed to be a lot easier than it had been earlier in the day even though there was the same amount of stuff in it.

The queues for the Metro tickets at the Gare du Nord were much smaller- only 6 people in front of me and two cashiers – so I took advantage by buying another carnet of 10, seeing as I had the time.

A single journey is €1:70 but a carnet of 10 is €14:90 so it’s a decent saving, and it also means that you don’t have to hand around in these enormous queues all the time.

Up in the Gare du Nord it took me ages to find a place to sit and eat my butties. I’d tried outside but it was freezing and there was a bitter wind blowing down the alley between the station and the offices next door.

On the TGV to Brussels and I slept most of the way. I may as well make the most of the opportunities that come my way.

We were bang on time in Brussels- 15:47.

And the 15:52 to Leuven was bang on time too which meant that I had only just enough time to grab my ticket. I had a very bizarre and garrulous seating companion who told me loads of stuff that I didn’t really want to know, and then he promptly fell asleep.

I’ve never heard anyone snore as much as he did, but he soon awoke when he realised that he was about to miss his stop at Brussels-Nord. I’ve never seen anyone so big move so quickly. Evidently his bow tie could double up as a propeller if necessary.

A good stride out from the station brought me to my lodgings where I was immediately recognised by the proprietor. Unfortunately my room is not one of the quieter rooms but it’s still good.

And unpacking, I discovered that I’d forgotten to bring an ice cube bag with me.

For tea I went into town to pick up a peng … errr … pizza. Which reminds me – mustn’t forget to buy some more vegan cheese tomorrow.

Back here and a shower and then an early night with a Bulldog Drummond film. And true to form, I fell asleep after 5 minutes.

Final word though goes to my friend Clare in the Auvergne. She told me that today they had had the first snow in the Auvergne, and she sent me a photo.

Last time that they had had snow that early (winter 2012-13) it had snowed until 25th May 2013 – a record.

Looks as if it’s going to be a long winter.

Wednesday 3rd October 2018 – AFTER MY EXCITING …

… day yesterday, I crashed out on the bed at about 22:30 leaving half a mug of coffee behind, the laptop running and everything.

And I was off on my travels too, about a horse race that was taking place.

For no apparently good reason at all I was wide awake at 01:30 and so not being able to go back to sleep I spent an hour catching up on some more work that needed to be done.

Once I’d gone back to sleep I was off on my travels yet again, this time to an office where I used to work. It was office party time and there were quite a few married couples having rather too much fun underneath desks and the like. And when I say “married couples”, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they were married to each other either. I disturbed one couple having fun underneath a desk, and they asked me a question about it. My tart response was that surely they didn’t think that they were the only people at it. There were three different offices in this building, one of which had a connection with Scotland. And at a certain moment a young girl, blonde pony tail and in a white lab coat, talking in a Scots accent (the girl, not the coat), appeared on our floor to bring some work down. I was quite interested in finding out more about her so I started to climb the stairs in the fire escape to see if I could find her office. On the way, I was intercepted by someone who asked if my answer to a certain question on a form was definitive. I couldn’t even remember the question, never mind my answer!

By 04:30 I was wide awake again so I restarted what I had been doing earlier. That took me round to the medication and a nice hot shower with clean clothes for my journey home.

Next stop was the supermarket in the Gare du Midi for bread to make my butties. An enormous queue at the tills which is hardly surprising seeing as it’s morning rush hour and people are picking up their lunch. And I also picked up some or the raisin buns that I like so as to have something for breakfast, along with another coffee.

Once the butties had been made, and breakfast eaten and coffee drunk, I staggered (and I DO mean staggered because my luggage seems to have gained the weight that I had lost) down to the station and my train.

The TGV was ontime too, which is always good news because I don’t have time to hang around in Paris.

And it was packed to the gunwhales too. There didn’t seem to be a spare seat on board.

And several people seemed to have been late bookings because although they were wedged into individual seats all down the carriage alongside other people, they spent most of the trip standing in the aisle leaning over everyone else to see what was on the laptop of the leader of the pack, blocking the aisle, to the inconvenience of everyone else.

We pulled into Paris Gare du Nord bang-on time and I then had to negotiate my way to Gare Montparnasse dragging my heavy load and wondering just how I had managed to end up with so much stuff.

It was quite a struggle up and down the stairs and onto the train in the metro with all of my stuff but eventually I made it into the concourse at Montparnasse and could withdraw my ticket to Granville from the machine.

With having been an hour earlier on the TGV I had plenty of time to wait at Vaugirard. I sat next to a mother and her daughter who were also travelling to Granville and we had something of a chat while I ate my cheese and tomato butties.

On the train I had a very charming travelling companion but the train was quite empty so she moved to the seats on her own in front of me and spread herself out.

I did likewise and spend the journey alternating between sleeping and reading my copy of Arthur Reeves’ “The Finding of Wineland the Good” that I had downloaded off the internet. It’s an interesting book because although it’s very well-researched, he dismisses a great deal of work that had been done previously by people like Carl Rafn on grounds that may well have been logical at the time that Reeves was writing, but have since been found to be erroneous.

There was a 40-minute wait for the bus – I had no intention of walking home today. And we had some excitement on the journey back when the bus driver clipped another vehicle and pulled the rear bumper off the bus.

It’s good to be back home. I’ll tell you that. It smells of dust and so on, but it’s home all the same and I’ll open the windows tomorrow to let some fresh air.

I didn’t do too much – just relaxed for a while and then made myself a plate of pasta, olive oil and vegetables for tea.

Later I tried to start the back-up of files from the travelling laptop onto the home machine, but I gave up after an hour or so. Only 22:00 but I was gone.

And this is how I’m going to stay for a while because I’ve switched off all of the alarms.

Tuesday 2nd October 2018 – AND SO BACK AT CASTLE ANTHRAX …

… and start as you mean to go on.
Our Hero – “I seem to be half an hour early today”
Ann the Receptionist – “no you aren’t. You’re several weeks late!”

As might be expected after all of my sleep yesterday, I found myself wide-awake at 03:15 this morning. And by 03:40 I had given it up as a bad job and was sitting on the bed working.

That had still given me plenty of time to go off on a nocturnal ramble. Back on The Good Ship Ve … errr … Ocean Endeavour and back in the High Arctic again, only this time in the company of a couple of my spurious characters and it’s not very often indeed that they ever see the light of … errr … well, you know what I mean. Yes, two people, who shall be known as, say the QC PQ and C, for want of any other name, were out there last night on a voyage and not necessarily doing what they do best either. All in all, it was something of a cosy voyage being out there retracing many of the steps that were traced a couple of weeks ago and in interesting company too.

Yes, I’m feeling all broody again, aren’t I?

I’m not sure whether it’s nostalgia for the voyage, a desire to return to the High Arctic (which is by far and away the most splendid place on earth), an unwillingness to go home or trepidation about my appointment with destiny at Castle Anthrax later this morning tha has got me going like this.

Or maybe I’m just lonely. Mustn’t rule that out either. But as they say in France, it’s better to travel alone than be badly-accompanied. And I wouldn’t have done half of the things that I have done had I had anyone else to think about too.

While there’s a kettle in the hotel room, there isn’t any coffee. And so those little tubes of coffee that I keep in my backpack for emergencies came in very handy here. That was a handy bit of inspiration, that was and no mistake.

It was also a very good job that I was up and about early too, for I would never have been able to sleep through the racket that my neighbour made after he awoke at 04:20.

A shower at 07:00 and a general organisation of myself, and then off to catch the train. Not forgetting that I needed to have my rail ticket for tomorrow printed out. The receptionist here duly obliged.

At the Carrefour in the Gare du Midi I picked up some raisin bread for breakfast and then as there was a Leuven train already in the station I leapt aboard.

And then my leisurely walk to my appointment with doom.

As well as the interaction with the receptionist, I had an interaction with a young nurse.
“Your heartbeat is very fast today” she remarked.
“You lean over me one more time like that” I muttered to myself “and it will beat even faster”.

She had her revenge. She was very rough with the catheter tube.

As a punishment for missing an appointment they kept me waiting for a while before they hooked me up. And once I was hooked up I went off. Out like a light – well, as far as possible as it is to go with people buzzing around me.

And despite what you might think, after all of the good food that I have eaten on my travels, I have LOST 3kgs in weight. I shall have to go back to the Arctic, won’t I?

From the railway station I trudged my weary way across town towards the hospital.

And ground to a splendid halt in the Grote Markt bu=y the big cathedral.

It’s soon going to be the centenary of the Armistice, and there was a display of notices to the population from the First World War.

Leuven was occupied by the Germans in late August 1914 and was a major victim of the German policy of “Frightfulness”.

The town was sacked and then set ablaze. The huge Medieval library and all of its contents dating back to the 6th Century were burnt to ashes.

The population lived under a most repressive Martial Law. Hostages were taken and were shot for the slightest “provocation” by the civilian population.

It was a nightmare time for those who lived here.

At the hospital, they did their tests and gave me the news. As expected, the blood count is down and the protein loss is up. And for the first time, a doctor has admitted that they are concerned about my lack of response to the treatment.

So back in 4 weeks by which time they might have come up with A Cunning Plan.

On the way back I called at Delhaize for some fruit and tomatoes for lunch tomorrow, and then The Loving Hut for more vegan cheese and sausages (and where I was recognised by the cashier). Finally Kruidvat for some gelatine-free sweets.

back at the Leuven railway station, and I didn’t have to wait long for a train back.

It’s one of the Class 18 electric locomotives and is probably about 8 years old, although it doesn’t look it.

She brought me to the Gare Centrale for 18:10. I’d arranged a meal with Alison at The Moon but she was delayed as there was no bus. They are all on strike.

But she arrived soon enough and we had a beautiful vegan and gluten-free meal. And I took the opportunity to discuss with her an incident that had happened to me several weeks ago and had left me feeling totally puzzled. And I wanted a woman’s point of view.

Much to my surprise (because things don’t usually happen like this) she immediately saw my point of view without me even having to prompt her. I was convinced at the time that I had been correct in my understanding, and Alison’s opinion was that, if anything, I had been far more restrained that she would have expected in a similar circumstance.

So I dunno.

We had a coffee and I showed her my prize photo, and then she took the train back out of town to the railway station near to where she works. During the bus strike, the train is the best solution.

I walked home past the big Tintin mural and had a strange encounter with three guys in the street. I know what they were after but they weren’t quick enough.

Back here I had a chat with Liz on line, and then with Alison who by now had made it safely home. A little crash out and now I’m off to bed.

We had a coffee and I showed her my prize photo, and then she took the train back out of town to the railway station near to where she works. During the bus strike, the train is the best solution.

I walked home and had a strange encounter with three guys in the street. I know what they were after but they weren’t quick enough.

Back here I had a chat with Liz on line, and then with Alison who by now had made it safely home. A little crash out and now I’m off to bed.

It’s been a long day and tomorrow I’m heading home.

I wonder what I’ll find back there.

Monday 1st October 2018 – A NEW MONTH …

… an old continent.

Here am I, back again in Europe. Those five weeks just … errr … flew by, didn’t they?

But back on my aeroplane and I must have gone to sleep at some point (although it didn’t much feel like it) because I remember waking up when they brought the morning coffee around.

ETA on takeoff was 08:20 and at 08:20 we were rolling to a halt at the end of the runway ready to turn round and taxi to the terminal. After a few thousand miles and over 6 hours in the air that’s what I call good timing.

It wasn’t possible to take a pic of the plane so you’ll have to do without knowing anything about it. And my first stop was the gentleman’s rest room -and you won’t want to know too much about that either.

Long queues at immigration but actually passing the policemen there was quick and easy. Not much of a wait for the suitcases either, and I was on the train into Brussels just an hour after landing.

At the Hotel Midi-Zuid by 10:00 and my room was not ready (no surprise here) but in contrast to Montreal, I was invited to wait.

11:00 saw my lying on the bed in my little single room. Very well furnished and equipped seeing as it’s an economy place. I do like it here.

Most of the day was spent drifting in and out of sleep which is hardly a surprise seeing as how tired I was.

I was off on my travels too, watching a guy try to launch himself into the water in a kayak, but only getting his feet wet. I commiserated with him but he said that he’d been in shallower water than this. Some other people were in here messing around in a miniature car ferry and at a certain moment, this kayaker, the ferry and a few other things were in perfect alignment to make a really good shot but I didn’t have my camera ready. So I was trying to choreograph them when a naval vessel came on the scene and interrupted us, rather like Knud Rasmussen had at Iliussat the other week. I had to reverse my boat and tuck into a side alley but being confused about the controls with going backwards, I opened the throttle wide by mistake and crashed my boat into a bollard.

A phone call disturbed me, but I fell asleep again before I could answer it. But later managed a shower and to wash my clothes.

Tea – I did manage tea – was a bowl of lentils with bread and chips (we’re in Belgium of course). And back here later I booked my trains and made arrangements to meet Alison tomorrow evening.

Now it’s bedtime. Despite all of my sleep today, I’m still exhausted. I need a good sleep.

Saturday 9th June 2018 – THIS IS TURNING INTO A DISASTER

And I’m not quite sure about where to start either.

I could, I suppose, make a start by telling you all about last night’s nocturnal ramble. And that was such a confused, jumbled, rambling voyage too and I’ve probably forgotten most of it.

But I do remember leading a party of other motorists to Granville but it was nothing like the Granville as we know it, and the road to there was even more different. Doing it in the semi-dark was another thing too, especially as there were no signposts. However I had been there once before and I could remember the way – at least everything looked familiar like the roundabout near the yacht harbour where we had to turn left. At a certain moment we left the main road and were driving along a farm track where there was suddenly a terrific drop. I remembered a drop, but nothing as terrific as this one but it had to be here because there was no other way that resembled this. Everyone else looked in a panic but I pressed on down the slope and it wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be.
At some other time during the night I ended up in Bill Badger, my old BMC half-ton van from the 1970s. I’d put it back on the road after more than 20 years and it was running fine. I’d done some work on the engine too and that had me thinking about “why don’t I find a BMC 1622 diesel engine and fit that in the vehicle?”
From there I drifted into YLO, my first Cortina mkIV and I was going round to visit some sportsman. Much to my surprise he was living in very modest circumstances, the only sign of affluence being a small sailing boat in his garden that he was restoring. There was a notice on the gate to the effect that “no matter what, the boat isn’t for sale so don’t waste my time and yours enquiring”. He explained to me that his wife had just given birth and people always though that when you were there with new family commitments that took up much of your time, your hobbies would be the first to go, and go quickly and cheap too. I sympathised, explaining that I had a Transit van and another vehicle up on ramps in my garden right now.
Somewhere in all of this my mother put in an appearance. I’m not sure why. She was being assailed by a couple of women and even though I had no time for her at all, I couldn’t help feeling some sympathy for what she was suffering.

So there I was, at 05:20 sitting on the edge of the bed typing out all of this before I forgot it, despite the fact that with a long and exhausting day ahead of me, I needed all the sleep that I could get.

So an early breakfast etc, and organising myself, packing and the like. Ant at 08:30 I was at the supermarket buying a bottle of drink and a baguette.

Having made my butties I went off to hand in my keys and book the room for my next session, giving a big stroke to the cat on my way past.

It was here that today all started to go wrong, if you don’t consider awakening at 05:20 to be wrong.

My next visit here coincides with the big Werchter Rock festival in mid-Belgium, so there is no room at the inn. Not at any other inn in the region so I have been told. And I can’t change my appointment at Castle Anthrax because it fits in nicely with my other arrangements. And I can’t book a hotel in Brussels because I’m in Caliburn and there’s nowhere reasonable to leave him.

But there’s always a Plan B. It’s been years since I’ve been to Liège and I hardly know the city so I might book a hotel there and that will give me an opportunity to go for a wander around the city. I might even at last get to visit Welkenraedt – something that I’ve been trying to do for 45 years since I first saw it as a train destination at Oostende in the early 70s

Not only that, it’s easy to escape from too – avoids the necessity to struggle through the traffic on the edge of Brussels. There’s a motorway that goes from there to France via Charleroi instead.

But it’s still annoying.

At the station I didn’t have to wait too long for a train. It was another Oostende train and so it was heaving with holidaymakers. I ended up being crammed into a corner with about 20 young German kids, several crates of beer and a music centre playing “oompah” music.

That was certainly not what I wanted at that time of the morning, but at least I had a seat. So I can’t complain too much. Especially as one of the boys actually offered me a beer (which I of course declined).

At the Gare du Midi I didn’t have to wait too long for the TGV to be called and to my surprise it was already in the station so we could take our seats and settle down in comfort.

But that was to no avail because the train didn’t move. After a while we were told to dismount. We were apparently having a “technical problem”. They called for a new trainset and they coupled that up to the next TGV so we were half an hour late leaving Bruxelles-Midi.

I went in search of the train manager and made a fuss about my connection to Granville. We had a lengthy discussion and in the end she endorsed my ticket to Granville to the effect that I would miss my train due to their fault and not mine.

We pulled into Gare du Nord 35 minutes late, not 30 minutes late – and that extra 5 minutes proved to be crucial as we shall see.

There’s an RER “express” that does part of the route of Metro Line 4 missing out several stations, so I gambled on that as far as Les Halles. It was indeed much quicker but whatever time I saved was lost by having a long walk between platforms so it wasn’t any quicker really. But I have timed the journey in the past going on Line 5 and then Line 4 and I know full well that I didn’t have enough time today so it was a gamble to nothing.

At Montparnasse I rushed as quickly as I could but it’s a long way, and I reached my platform just in time to see my train departing. For the first time since 1992 I wished that I was back in the UK where the trains run when they feel like it and only pretend that there’s a timetable.

This meant a trip all the way back to the ticket office. It’s possible to travel to Granville on the TGV to Rennes and then the Caen and Cherbourg train from there, alighting at Folligny where there’s a bus that connects with the train. But that goes at 14:14 and by the time I’d walked all the way back to the ticket office and queued to see a counter clerk, that train had long-gone.

The clerk wasn’t all that helpful and I was in no mood for her light-hearted attempts at laughter. She refused to consider finding me an alternative route (far too much effort of course) and so there was no alternative but to wait three hours for the next train.

Another marathon walk back to my platform where I ate my butties and read my book. And listened to the desperate news that “the train arriving from Granville” … which will be the one that will be taking me back … “has been delayed by 40 minutes due to a signal failure”.

But to give them their due, as soon as it arrived and the passengers alighted and the crew had checked it for lost property, we were immediately waved on board. They hadn’t had time to clean it so it was something of a mess, but I didn’t want to wait around for another half an hour. 10 minutes late was quite enough.

During the whole route back I was in something of a daze. That 05:20 start had done me no favours whatsoever and the marathon dash and consequent stress had made things even worse. I wasn’t in much of a state to pay much attention to what was going on.

To make things worse, in view of everything that had happened today I was going to treat myself to a bus back home. But the last bus goes at 20:00 and we arrived back at 20:10 so that was that i had to walk.

And to make things even worse, the only bakery open in the town at that time of night had sold out of bread and buns for tomorrow.

It was a very long drag up the hill and I was stopped by a couple of tourists who needed directions.

So back here after all of that and I’m not up to much at all. I couldn’t even face making any tea. I’m going to go to bed and sleep until I awake. After all, tomorrow is another day.

Wednesday 6th June 2018 – I’VE BEEN REUNITED …

… with my missing wallet. And it didn’t take too much effort.

The route planner that I use proposed a route from the station to the Police Station that took 38 minutes, and from the Police Station to the “Convention” metro station a route that took 22 minutes. However, while I followed the suggested route from the Police Station to the Metro, the route that I took from the station was slightly different (as in “more straightforward and easier to follow”).

And I was on the platform of the Metro station, having been to collect my wallet, long before even the 38 minutes. And most of that time was spent going through the Security check at the entrance to the Police Station.

But I needn’t have wasted my time because there was nothing left of any value in the wallet – not that that surprised me. And it was a pleasant walk through a part of Paris that I didn’t know at all.

I’d had a decent sleep for a change, although it was once more difficult to haul myself out of bed. I had a shower, a quick whizz around the apartment, took out the rubbish, made my butties and made sure that I had everything that I needed.

It was a brisk walk of 25 minutes to the station in the cold, clammy weather, so I was there half an hour before the train was due to depart.

We only had to wait around for about 15 minutes or so before the train pulled in to the station so there was plenty of time to find our seats..

Nominally I was reading DW Prowse’s excellent History of Newfoundland but I spent most of the train journey in a doze.

On one occasion though I had to rouse myself to go for the stroll down the corridor, and the man whom I met leaving the Gentlemen’s Rest Room could have bowled me over, rather like Gabby Johnson in Blazing Saddles during the fight near the end of the film.

When we arrived at Paris it was still muggy and clammy but it warmed up pretty quickly while I was tramping around the streets.

The Metro was quite straightforward -Line 12 from “Convention” back to “Montparnasse-Vaugirard” and then a brief walk around the corner, not the usual marathon trek, to Line 4. With the works going on at Gare du Nord, I had to alight at Gare de l’Est and take Line 5. And I’ve never seen a Metro as crowded as this one.

But I was in plenty of time to eat my butties before boarding the TGV. It was trainset 4343 and we’ve travelled on that one before.

However this time I didn’t have much luck on it.

Having been exhausted by the walk I wanted to sleep on the train but every time I dozed off, my neighbour wanted to go to the Gentlemen’s Rest Room.

And that was dismaying. I was well out of it by the time we arrived at Brussels.

As luck would have it, we arrived a little earlier, so the earlier train to Leuven was still in the station. So I leapt aboard and we were off.

It was a struggle to make it to here, and once I’d installed myself in my little room I was out like a light for a good 90 minutes.

But it took longer than usual to install myself as, on leaving the office with my keys, I was assailed by the hotel cat again who insisted on being picked up and given a stroke.

Unpacking my stuff, I find that I’ve forgotten my coffee and my ice tray, so down at the shops i had to buy coffee and a pack of these ice cube bag things. And it makes much more sense to travel with a couple of these than a tray.

Tea was baked potatoes (I remembered those) and a tin of Fajita beans followed by a caramel soya dessert and banana.

Now, I’m totally whacked. 151% of my daily effort so even though it’s only just 21:30 I’m off to bed. It’s hospital tomorrow.

Thursday 10th May 2018 – I’M BACK HOME

Yes, with Alison being busy I haven’t hung around in Leuven this time. I came straight back on the train today.

But let’s start at the very beginning – a very good place to start, as Julie Andrews tells us.

As for last night’s sleep, that was one of the best yet.

With having had a hard day yesterday I was struggling to keep awake even while I was writing last night’s blog and once I’d finished and had lain down on the bed, that really was that, even though it wasn’t quite 22:00.

And for that reason, when someone knocked on my neighbour’s door at 05:00 to awaken him for work, I didn’t mind at all. For that was the first noise that I had heard all night.

First real noise, that is, because there had been plenty of others during my nocturnal voyages. We started off doing something that involved someone – an accountant from Vancouver – from where I used to work. What was interesting about this was not the voyage itself, but the fact that I awoke from it (although I didn’t) and thought that I had better write it down. And so I did – in a kind of spidery hand that when I looked at it after I had read it, I couldn’t make out a word. But of course I didn’t write it down at all. It’s quite amazing where these nocturnal voyages can take me.
A little later I was with Nerina again. She was in bed and she protested that I had hit her. I explained that there was some animal chasing a squirrel- a squirrel that was covered in fleas and maggots and the like – and the squirrel was trying to take refuge in the bed with her, and so I was preventing it from doing so. But of course you would never convince her of that.

But anyway, I was up with the alarm at 06:20 and went through the usual morning ritual, followed by a nice hot shower. Need to be fresh for my journey back home.

Having nipped out for a baguette, I made my butties for the trip and then made ready to leave. And then having to go back for the hat that I had forgotten.

While I was in the office and seeing as I know my plans (or, rather, Alison’s plans) for the next month, I booked my room. Appointment is on the Thursday so I’ll be arriving on the Wednesday, staying Wednesday, Thursday and Friday night (I’m determined to get to see the railway museum in Schaerbeek) and then back home on the Saturday.

At the station I bought my ticket for Brussels and stepped out of the ticket office to find a Brussels train already at the platform. And so I leapt aboard. And wasn’t that a mistake?

It’s a Bank Holiday in Belgium today and so many people are bridging the gap over to the weekend and having four days by the seaside on the Costa Stella. And the train that I had leapt aboard was the express to Blankenberge. So standing room only, I’m afraid.

But at least I was in Brussels with plenty of time (like two hours) to spare before my train; And the time would have dragged had I not found an abandoned Sudoku book with a couple of games still uncompleted.

Up on the platform I took my … errr … station where the noticeboard indicated that my carriage would stop, but the blasted thing shot past me without stopping and I had to run halfway down one of the longest platforms in Belgium.

It seems that instead of a 16-car unit, it was only an 8-car unit today – the bit that comes down from Amsterdam and Antwerp.

And packed too. It took ages to find my seat and then there was a regular change of companion until we finally settled on a young Dutch girl with a 7-month old baby. That kind of thing does my self-esteem a pile of good, I’ll tell you.

Across Paris with little or no effort at all, and then joining the crowds of people waiting at the Gare Montparnasse, where I ate my butties.

The train to Granville was heaving too and I had a fit of confusion, taking four attempts to find my seat, disturbing a couple of piles of people in the process.

But eventually I found the correct seat and settled down for the uneventful journey home. So uneventful in fact that I slept for much of the journey home, despite having the headphones on and listening to stuff on the laptop.

All of this travel is clearly getting to me

The walk back up here was likewise uneventful which suited me fine and it didn’t take too long to be back. And I seem to have brought a streaming headcold with me yet again.

And remind me not to travel on a Bank Holiday ever again.

Wednesday 25th April 2018 – I DON’T KNOW …

… whose silly idea this was but a flight at 06:15 in the morning should have given me a clue.

And so it was with a really heavy heart that I hauled myself out of my stinking pit at … errr … 02:00 following the cacophony of alarms and people knocking at the door.

But still I’d had plenty of time to go off on a journey during the night.

I was living in a village with a group of North Africans and the old lady of the village who had been wandering around came to see me in the house where I was living and then wandered away. In this village were two cows and they were both having some kind of psychological issues so I had to go to see an animal psychiatrist to make an appointment for one of them. So we had a little chat about this cow and then I decided that I would go home. But this cow decided that it would follow me and I don’t get on very well with large animals as regular readers of this rubbish will recall so I was rather put out by this. I had to dash home, reach the safety of the inside, lock the door and then park up a revolving door so that entry would be impossible but I could still get in and out of the house – something that was very complicated. And I had to do it pretty quickly too as I didn’t want to have a confrontation with this cow. But as I was trying to arrange the revolving door all of the villagers turned up. They had heard somehow that the old lady had been here and they wanted to come in to talk to her. But of course she wasn’t here, and I was wondering how I could tell them without arousing their anger or suspicions because I could see that although they looked reasonably good-natured, the wrong kind of word in the wrong kind of place could really upset them and we could have an “incident” here. It was all starting to become rather worrying.

The bus was due to leave at 02:41 so I had reckoned on it being here round about 03:15, so no-one was more surprised than me to find it outside the hotel when I hit the foyer at 02:15. Any chance of picking up some food at the all-night bar at the side of the pool promptly evaporated.

We were crammed like sardines into the bus – not a spare seat anywhere – and it took a mere 40 minutes to reach the airport on the way back. We must have come to the hotel via the scenic route.

Just by way of a change, I was one of the first to check in and was thus rewarded with an aisle seat. And passing security was something else. Bells and buzzers going off like nobody’s business but no-one seemed to care at all. That’s what I call a “progressive” attitude.

Take-off was timed for 06:15 but by that time we were probably already 500 feet off the ground. The plane was up there with us too and I for one am not at all used to this idea of people being early – especially in countries that are much more laid-back and in which time is of lesser importance than elsewhere.

We were in another elderly Airbus A320 that had Spanish signs plastered all over it, presumably from a previous employment, and which could have done with a really good clean, especially in the bathroom, of which only two out of three were working.

I had another seat up at the front against the aisle which was just as well because these Nouvelair jets are all rather like sardine tins and we are crammed in tightly. But then, as I have said before, it’s not as if we are going across the Atlantic on it, and the lack of comfort is adequately reflected in the lack of price.

We were served a breakfast – of an omelette and there was once more no vegan option despite my having requested one. But that’s not new, is it? What is new though is that I had missed my opportunity to stock up on stuff from the all-night restaurant.

At Brussels Airport I was first off the aeroplane, and by a long way too. And first at the baggage carousel too. Even more surprisingly I was down in the bowels of the station just as a train to the city was about to leave, so I hopped aboard.

But it was all to no avail because it pulled into Bruxelles-Midi at 11:15, just two minutes after the TGV that I usually catch had pulled out. And there was a wait of an hour and a half for the next one. I must say that I hadn’t expected to be on the 11:13 at all, but it was such a disappointment to be so near and yet so far.

At least it gave me enough time to go to the supermarket for a baguette for lunch and to pick up some of the nice raisin buns that they have. Remember that I had had no breakfast and I’d already been on the go for … errr … nine hours.

The TGV was pretty full and I seemed to have been given a seat next to the person who had all of the luggage. And he was most upset about having to move it, and even more upset when I told him where to stick it.

Not too many people these days seem to know how to use the luggage racks in the train.

You’re probably wondering what the yellow box is in the foreground of this photo.

There are several of them scattered about all over the SNCF railway stations in France. They are called composteurs and you stick your ticket in there to composter it before you board the train.

What the machine does is to insert a time and date stamp on your ticket so that you can’t claim a refund on it as “unused” at a later date. And it’s an offence to travel on the SNCF with an uncomposted ticket.

There’s always an announcement as the train is pulling out of the station to the effect that “if you have forgotten to composter your ticket, please see the conductor immediately”. He’ll growl at you and stamp it by hand, but he’ll do much more than growl at you if he catches you before you catch him.

I didn’t get much of a sleep on board the train, and that was a disappointment. I’ll probably catch up with it later but at a most inconvenient time, I suppose.

Travelling through Paris was pretty straightforward. Line 5 to the Gare de l’Est and then Line 4 down to Montparnasse. But it’s a nightmare trying to get to the ticket office in the station there but it’s even worse just now because they are carrying out renovations there and building a commercial centre.

And the queue for tickets! It took ages to work our way down it to the front – and to find that the next train is the 16:43. There was an earlier way to get to Granville, going on the TGV to Rennes and then on the train to Caen but leaving at some tiny wayside station and catching the bus. But that’s like going in a big letter “Z” and costs a fortune, not to mention all of the effort.

So I went down to the platform for my train and made my butties instead, fighting off the pigeons.

The train that we should have caught is the “return” from Argentan but that was running 50 minutes late so they prepared an idle multiple-unit standing in a vacant platform. Even so, we were still 20 minutes late leaving. And as it was a 6-car unit instead of a 12-car unit we were crammed in there like sardines too.

As the train emptied out I finally managed to doze off. But not for long though – only about 10 minutes I reckon.

I can see that I shall be paying for all of my efforts in due course

We arrived back at Granville bang on time – the driver must have done well to catch up the missing 20 minutes along the way. But it was a long, sad, weary way back home dragging my suitcase behind me up the hill and with the pain in my legs.

It’s good to be back home, as Barry Hay once famously sang, but I would much rather be in Tunisia. It took me a couple of hours to sort myself out and then I made some tea out of a tin.

But what an effort? What a surprise? Who would have ever thought that I would have made it to the desert?

They say that the best things come as a complete surprise and this is certainly true.

I’m now off to bed. With no alarm call either. Just watch me wke up at 05:00 tomorrow morning.

Wednesday 18th April 2018 – AND AN EARLY START …

… it was in the morning too.

never mind the alarm at 05:20 – I was wide-awake at 04:00. That is, of course, quite another thing from saying that I was out of bed at that time but at least it’s a relief to know that my body clock seems to be working when it has to.

I made my breakfast – a half-baguette with jam – and packed it in my rucksack for the journey along with the butties that I made afterwards.

By 06:00 i was ready to go and a brisk walk through the not-so-deserted streets (it seemed as if the whole town was heading to the railway station right now) brought me there in such good time that the previous train was still in the station. And so I leapt aboard.

It was quite empty when it left but by the time that it had stopped at Brugge and Gent St Pieters it was standing room only throughout the whole length of the train. Early rush hour of course and everyone was off to work.

But my early arrival had availed me nothing because there was no earlier train to the airport.

“Airport???” I hear you say. “What it all of this?”

Well, we’re having a change of plan and instead of leaping aboard the next available TGV to go home, I’m going on a little voyage. I didn’t mention that when I was in Leuven buying my shorts, something in a shop window across the road had caught my eye.

And so to the airport. I arrived in plenty of time, checked in, had a totally painless passage through security – and much as Ihave criticised the mentality of Belgian officialdom in the past, it’s only right that I say chapeau and wish that Canadian and USA border staff would take a leaf out of their book – and walked the endless miles of corridor to my departure gate.

And then walked half the way back because there was a gate change.

I’d been very lucky checking in. I used the old “bad leg” ploy (actually, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I do have issues with my leg) and was given an aisle seat, which was just as well because the plane was packed out with not a free seat anywhere. I had literally had the last ticket on the flight – as the Travel Agent had said.

And it was the oldest Airbus A320 I’ve ever been on. Piloted by Orville and Wilbur Wright, I had to move Amelia Earhart’s sandwiches off my seat before I could sit down.

And once we had settled down and taken off we all had to unsettle ourselves to search for documents papers and pens to fill in the applications for Visas. Why then couldn’t issue those with your boarding cards so that you could fill them out while waiting for the aeroplane to arrive is totally beyond me.

It was just as well that I had made my butties. I know that there’s a meal organised on the aeroplane but regular readers of this rubbish will recall that past experience has taught me never to rely on airline and tour companies to provide what I order. And so when I found out – just as I had expected – that there was no vegan meal on the plane for me, I didn’t worry.

The plane itself wasn’t that comfortable. We were crammed in like sardines but that didn’t worry me too much either. It’s a cheap tour package operator’s runabout and we weren’t going all that far anyway.

Two and a half hours later, we touched down. At Enfidha–Hammamet International Airport which, for the benefit of those of you who studied something other than geography, is in North Africa. Tunisia to be precise;

I’d seen a bargain last-minute offer to fly out to a holiday resort for a week in Sqanes on the Tunisian coast between Sousse and Monastir. All-inclusive, even down to the transport from the airport. Large air-conditioned room, balcony and sea view leaving, as you know, 5 days after I saw it and after a considerable amount of intense negotiations, knocked down to Yours Truly for all of €400.

And here I was. First off the plane, first through customs and immigration and sitting on a bench eating my butties waiting for the baggage.

I’d been saying for a while that the weather in Europe had been depressing all winter and how I wanted to go to the desert. Well, this was the best that I could do at short notice.

And while the weather in Western Europe had improved this last while, it seemed as if I had brought the bad weathe rover here with me.

There we were, loading ourselves up into the tour buses on the edge of the desert and in the background was this dirty black cloud hovering about quite ominously.

And, sad as it is to say it, we hadn’t driven more than a mile or two before it started to rain.

Yes, here in North Africa, in April on the edge of the desert, and it is raining. You couldn’t make up a story quite like that, could you? But then, I suppose that with knowing the way that things work out when I’m around you would have bet the mortgage on it.

Local farmers will be paying me a fortune to keep on coming back to the country, whereas the local Tourist Board will be denying me admisssion

Onto the motorway where tractors, bicycles and carts drawn by horses are prohibited.

But not herds of sheep and goats, so it seems. We would regularly pass a herd of sheep and/or goats, complete with shepherd and/or goatherd, on the hard shoulder nibbling away at what passes for greenery around here.

That’s the sheep and/or goats of course, not the shepherd and/or goatherd, although one never knows, of course.

In fact, it’s all very much as you might imagine that it would have been back in Biblical days.

Even the motor vehicles. And yes, they did have cars, and even motorcycles back in Biblical days.

Everyone knows that it clearly states in the Bible that the sound of Joshua’s Triumph was heard throughout the land, and later in the New Testament we read that the disciples were all in one Accord.

Sousse has always been one of the towns that I have wanted to visit, and for no other reason than the fact that I had actually heard about the place.

Unfortunately we didn’t get to go through the city itself, but round the outskirts where we were driven past the big University here.

But no matter. I’m sure that I can work out a way of going for a day out in the city once I get my bearings about the place

I’m not sure what I was expecting for a hotel. I know that, at the price that I paid, I wasn’t expecting all that much. And so my flabber has never been so gasted as it was when I saw it.

Firstly, it’s a gated compound and there are security guards who patrol the gate and the fences. But when you go inside you can see why.

It’s the holiday village to end all holiday villages and really must have been something quite impressive when it was built because today, even though it’s looking rather tired around the edges, it’s by far and away the best hotel in which I have ever stayed.

We were treated to a little cabaret by the … err … “Enjoyment Team” when we arrived and that, I’m afraid, got me off on the wrong foot.

I’m the wrong person to come on one of these tours because with having worked in the tourist industry for as long as I did, I’m immensely cynical about this kind of thing. I just wanted to get to my room.

And when I did, well, what can I say?

I can have a dance in my bedroom it’s so big. A family of 6 could sleep in the bed and it’s all a kind of five-star luxury even if it is a little worn in the corners.

And there really is a balcony, and there really is a sea view – and a proper sea view at that too, just as I had been promised. None of your craning your neck around a corner and leaning out dangerously, like you would get in many other hotels.

I threw open the windows really wide and let the sea air blow in around the room for quite some considerable time.

And then I … errr … had a little relax. It’s been a long day so far

Once I’d rejoined the Land of the Living I could go for another good look out of my window.

And it seems as if the sea isn’t the only attraction here either. There’s a whole series of swimming pools and I can see three of them – two just down there and one under cover that you can’t see – from my window.

Mind you, it’ll need to be warmer than this before I’m enticed into the pool. I can’t believe my bad luck with the weather.

We came through Sousse on the way here, but we are actually in a town called Sqanes, which is on the outskirts of the city of Monastir.

That’s Monastir, right down there. And although it’s quite an interesting city, the seaport isn’t up to all that much.

And it’s for that reason that if I have the chance, I’ll be heading to Sousse for a day trip. The port there is one of the largest in Tunisia with a busy railway freight line into the desert.

That should provide some good opportunities.

The production of oil is a big thing in North Africa and Tunisia has some at its disposal.

And in the days of a tight economy, exploration has expanded and underneath the sea has been targeted as a likely source – hence the oil rig that I can see from my window.

It’s quite a way out from the shore, but it’s amazing what you can do with a decent telephoto lens and a good graphics program.

Tea tonight – and every night – is a buffet. You can help yourself. And it’s rather light on the vegan options unfortunately but a plate of wild rice and vegetables cooked with garlic, and a helping of beans from the salad tray followed by a real and proper fruit salad and I will settle for that.

So now I’m going to have an early night. Only 56% on the fitbit but I’m not too bothered about that. I’m exhausted after everything today and an early night will do me good.

Tomorrow it’s the beach!

EPIC HALL

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

Tag Archives: bruxelles midi

Sunday 20th January 2019 – IT’S BEEN BUILDING …

Thursday 27th December 2018 – THE ONLY PROBLEM …

Friday 21st December 2018 – THE BODY CLOCK …

Wednesday 28th November 2018 – I DID MY BEST …

Sunday 25th November 2018 – I WAS REALLY …

Wednesday 31st October 2018 – THE BODY CLOCK …

Sunday 28th October 2018 – AND HERE I AM AGAIN!

Wednesday 3rd October 2018 – AFTER MY EXCITING …

Tuesday 2nd October 2018 – AND SO BACK AT CASTLE ANTHRAX …

Monday 1st October 2018 – A NEW MONTH …

Saturday 9th June 2018 – THIS IS TURNING INTO A DISASTER

Wednesday 6th June 2018 – I’VE BEEN REUNITED …

Thursday 10th May 2018 – I’M BACK HOME

Wednesday 25th April 2018 – I DON’T KNOW …

Wednesday 18th April 2018 – AND AN EARLY START …

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