Some people can pull off the tea-dress and work-boots look. They are usually about 19 and fairly ethereal looking. I look like a gentle builder who goes by the name of Sandra at the weekends. But it's a comfortable combination, especially as I'm doing a lot of walking at the moment (for which read getting hideously lost with badly drafted instructions in my hand). The cobblestones around Ixelles are a bit treacherous in pointy boots.
It appears from this morning's outing that I live in the centre of the kebab district. It seems to be a heavily Turkish area and I really quite like it. Just used my new debit card in Carrefour for the first time, with quite some trepidation. You will be pleased to hear that I exist, and that my card works. Not bad considering the account was opened yesterday.
Quite a long bus journey spent listening to conversations, or trying. I catch beginnings and endings of sentences and am waiting patiently for the language to unknit itself. I was delighted to understand a whole sentence the passenger next to me garbled into her phone.
Having some tinned tortellini now (hey I never said I was sophisticated) and then off to see "We Need to Talk About Kevin". It's almost as if I live here.