It's that kind of day. Delayed responses. Sweeping the big rug before rolling it up. How can I shed that much hair and still have hair? I've got boxes and bubble wrap and a headache and a big fear.
Unpicking that a bit, it's all sorts of things.
Gent really is pretty foreign. Oh yes, they all speak English. But the official language is one I can hardly understand, and attempting to read it feels like eating pins with my eyes. So Flemish for Dummies on Youtube is very handy. French, although far from being fluent on the tongue, is a language which I can read quite easily. Gent is really a foreign place.
The rental contract is for a minimum of three years (breakable with all sorts of penalties - limbs, eyes, firstborn son, that sort of thing). Which means I appear to have made a very definite decision to put roots down in Gent.
And then there is all the stuff around commuting and whether it's insane. It isn't really - it's one hour door to door. For Londoners, an hour commute is normal. Some people commute from Brighton. Not to Gent, that would be insane.
And just a general, sucky fear about whether this is all right. Well, I don't know if it is. I have a good job that I like, and now I have found a beautiful place to live in a beautiful place to live.
So that should be all right. Yes.