Tuesday, 4 December 2012

Living the Dream

Yes, I'm here.  Or there.  It's difficult to know which now.  The move went relatively smoothly apart from some complaints about getting the mattress up the stairs (I did say...) and the €150 parking fine incurred by the Mans with Van.  In all my shuffling about north-west Europe, it's amazing how little has got broken.  One little table on the way from London and one piece of glassware coming here.  All my mirrors, pictures, and large collection of glass are intact.  Even the tiny Murano glass dish which has now got a job under the soap.  Everything is finally out, catching light and dust on my splendid window sills.

It feels a bit like I'm in a serviced apartment at the moment.  I've never lived anywhere this beautiful.  There is cream stone flooring throughout.  Those of you who know me a bit will guess that either I will become obsessed with keeping it perfect, or it will shortly be a repository mainly for spilled jam and tea.  After an afternoon of freezing strop on Saturday I finally worked out that the heating wasn't working because the boiler was off.  Yes, I know.  Internet was connected yesterday, and today was the first day of being a crazy commuter.

There are loads of us, and yet still we all get a seat, unlike the nose-to-armpit District Line back in London.  Coming home - meh.  I got soaked to my red leggings and then a tram in Gent met a car.  Long walk.  Wet, hungry, very cold.  Charlotte Bronte would have died of it.  If there was any night on which I was going to squander a luncheon voucher at the McDonalds in Korenmarkt, this was bloody it.  I shovelled in that slithery Big Mac and those fries, sitting in my wet coat and blue rainhat.  That hat does get about.

I could do with some furniture.  I've got a bed, a chair and the internet.  One up on Van Gogh I think.  When I was about twenty, I dreamed of having an apartment empty of pretty much everything except books.  I have an apartment empty of pretty much everything except books.  It only took thirty years.  Of course the dream is slightly more grown up now and I'd quite like something put them on.


  1. Too weary to say more than You Done Good

  2. This is the start of good things, I'm sure. Not so empty either - you have a glass dish, pictures and mirrors. I'm sure it's going to be great - well done you. Ax

  3. It'll take a bit of time to make it home but you'll get there. Well done and good luck in this new chapter of your life xx