There has been much Ebay: the trousseau for my new job. I am still quietly and resiliently bloody happy. Moving to a new country brought so much uncertainty it was like looking out a car window and seeing only deep fog. I do not think I could have spent much longer wrangling toddlers and holding up their ankles to scrape shit off. It would have severely affected my life expectancy.
Downstairs is a contract, signed, that anchors me to a new future. I do not remember being this excited ever about a job - perhaps because achieving decent employment in your own city is one thing; to do it in another country is something else. Something else indeed.
After six months, I'm still infatuated with my city. The ice cream vans play tinkly off-key greetings just like the UK ones, but they also sell waffles. I have not yet, but will avail myself of one before very long. And today I have discovered that not five minutes from here is a two-screen cinema in a row of houses, that has served the local community for more than forty years. I love Brussels.