I met my delightful new friend S (contrary to popular belief, I do not only have friends called S) and she treated me to lunch in the Merode quartier. Then home via my Carrefour which seems to be the only shop in this town open on a Sunday. I'm disconcerted by this widespread Sunday closure - it reminds me of London in 1986 and I'll have to get them to change it.
Tomorrow I start actual work, and then off to the osteopath. You know you've arrived when you get yourself an osteopath. Unfortunately the Go Ape injury is showing no signs of going anywhere so I need someone who can crack my back back in place.
Afternoon was spent reading. When I went to the storage place yesterday I stanley-knifed open a box above my head and reached in to get the first available reading matter. Incidentally, am I the only person to read One Day and not be remotely moved? Dexter is a tit and Emma's tragedy was signposted like the M1. So I've got Don't You Want Me by India Knight and In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. And yes, darling daughter, it was one of your boxes I opened. Sorry about that.
I have finally worked out the Brussels trash system, much to my relief. If you get it wrong they fine you, which is a right bastard. There is now a diagram taped on the wall telling me exactly what I can put in various bags. Bottles you have to clank down to the bottle bank like an old alky. By the way, Carrefour you are spoiling me with this €3 Minervois.
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