Non, je ne regrette rien

The word that is heard perishes, but the letter that is written remains

Post (if it's the right sort of post) is always exciting. When you're a child, all post addressed to you is obviously something amazing, because you don't get bills, junk mail or appointment notifications, and when you get older, anything handwritten is usually exciting, because it means someone's actually taken the time to remember how to use a pen!

Living abroad seems to make people put pen to paper, to prove that they care about you. I love it. I miss letters, and if it takes moving abroad for people to write letters, then it's a sad day for all of us. 

However, every single bit of post makes my day - I love reading, and letters are one of the nicest things to read, because they're personal and bizarre. It's very rare that people plan out a letter; mostly (or maybe that's just me), I start to write, and I end up waffling on about really random stuff (just like this blog).

Anyway, I really appreciate the cards, emails, parcels and post cards from everyone, and a special mention to my 'sister-in-law' and godmother for the Cadbury's and home-made goodies.

Mais soudain je pousse un cri parmi les rires

As my French improves, I start to notice certain elements of English which don't cross language barriers. I almost feel mean when people say things in English which to me means something completely different.

My colleague asked me what my plans were this weekend...Me: Well my boyfriend's coming tomorrow, so we'll probably go to the Atomium on Saturday

Colleague: You like looking at big hanging balls?Me: Err...Lapland and Pole DancingIn England we all moan about public transport, but in Brussels it's something else altogether.I take the Metro to work, and every day one of the escalators (always an up escalator) is broken. There's something very depressing about climbing up a broken escalator, because halfway up you realise how unfit you are, but you have to keep going!Of course, you have to survive the journey itself before you can even contemplate leaving the station. The drivers seem to enjoy harsh (normally random) braking. A woman actually landed in my lap the other day. The train screeched to a halt, and she toppled onto the seat and slid into my lap. Charming!The same is true of the bus - sitting or standing, if you're not holding on tight enough, you'll end up on the floor, or doing attractive pirouettes around the pole. My advice is this: if you can, use your legs, it's safer and - most of the time - quicker! My journey takes 40ish minutes which is walking - metro - metro - walking. If I walked the whole way, Google Maps estimates 52 minutes, which means it would take a normal human about 45.And another thing...

Most importantly, I get to see my boyfriend this weekend, and best of all, he is bringing a suitcase full of toiletries and sundries from Merry Old England! Good ol' Blighty :)

Talon Free & All Cried Out

For someone who doesn't really like tea, I've been craving it a lot recently. Especially now when I'm sitting with a cryptic crossword and a piece of home-made cinnabon. I was going to be entirely British and watch an episode of Pride & Prejudice, but I spend all day staring at a screen so a crossword seemed like a good option to exercise my brain.



Well, I made it a week (just about), and have only got to wait 9 more days until my emergency supplies are brought out to me. I can definitely cope another week or so days without squash, mouthwash and Options hot chocolate. As for Cadbury's well that's debatable - I bought some 'chocolat blanc avec pâté de Speculoos' and it leaves a lot to be desired!


However, I did (after several days of contemplating), buy some nail clippers. I hadn't cut my nails in possibly 3 weeks, and they were disgusting! I mean at least 1cm... so I feel much better now. Who knows, I may even shave my legs on Saturday, as it's been almost 2 weeks! How revolting. My excuse is that it's so damn cold in my office, I need the extra warmth. But I must admit, I have let my standards slip - I haven't even worn make-up this week, and need to pluck my eyebrows. 
I don't want to end up like this:
 


People don't seem to wear make-up in Brussels - there's no stigma attached to not trying. I like it, because I can get up in the morning (I do shower and wash my hair - I haven't quite lost the plot), and chuck on jeans and a T-shirt without feeling like I'll be judged. Maybe it's their culture, why waste time on grooming, when there are far more important things to do. 


Like shopping. I popped into the supermarket on my way to work because I was fed up with drinking coffee with 'coffeemate', it's just wrong! However, the entire Roodebeek community seemed to be doing their weekly shop at 8.45am. And only one checkout was open. Naturally. However the nice lady in front of me pointed out that I could use the express till. Result. Then I messed up barcode scanning and threw my milk on the floor. Nice man came to my rescue. I am the Eeenglish Peeg.


People are nice here - several times people have told me to go in front of them in the supermarket because I've only got a few items. I appreciate that. In England you're more likely to get pushed in front of.


I have cried a bit this week (much to my disgust), but mainly because I was uprooted from the place I was getting used to, and put somewhere else. It's nice enough, although I'm terrified of sleeping in a bunk bed... it's 6 feet off the ground, and there's no way of turning the lights on or off when you're in, meaning it's an obstacle course. I will bump my head on the ceiling, and I will stub my toe on the ladder. I've accepted that. Hopefully I won't fall out, or fall down the ladder. Although then I could come home, and get paid 'incapacity benefit'... 


Seems a popular idea - apparently a girl started at work the week before I did, and went home at lunchtime feeling ill. She then didn't return because she was pregnant. I think she made that up, because I'd thought that would be the perfect excuse to leave. Sneaky sneaky.


I'm fairly sure I'll be here until Christmas, but I can't say after that!l All I need is some British food (that's what will bring back the stiff upper lip), a hug, and a fleece!
 
Still not convinced, but who knows...