On a visit to London one of the things my Sister-in-law and her husband noticed was that there seemed to be some warnings which where to all intents and purposes obvious. For example when travelling on the Tube the warning to stand clear of the closing doors, the message given before the doors close was seen as superfluous. Isn't it obvious that you need to keep out of the way of the doors as they close? Isn't the audible alarm enough to warn you? In the UK we are familiar with the culture of litigation and therefore the explosion of obvious warnings which we used to take for granted as competent adults.
In fact as a child if I were to hurt myself say on a bouncy castle then my parents would just tell me to be more careful in future, it was part of growing up. Now though, we expect to be told, have warning signs and be supervised when we use these things and God help them if they end up with someone getting injured.
There are warnings to look left and right at crossings, to stand back from platforms, to mind the steps, beware hot contents (in hot plastic cups with coffee in them), hot pies, etc etc. In Belgium it appears that the local population do not need to be warned of such things, they learn from experience that there are things out there which they need to be careful with. I do admire the country for being sensible in this respect.
Mind you, if you see how they manage road works then you must wonder how more people are not killed on a regular basis. The road works are best described as dodgy, there is a section on my commuter route which shifts two lanes towards the hard shoulder in order to bypass a bridge that they are not working on, I say not as I have never seen any workmen doing anything with it as long as I have been commuting back and forth since August last year. Anyway, the traffic 'cones' that guide you on and off the road are rather short and sharp, in fact so much so that I have seen cars in the slow lane cut straight across, ignoring the guiding lines to go right. What this means is that the car on the left crashes into the side of the car that makes the mistake, brakes hard (and possibly gets rear ended) or smashes through the cones (I have seen the wrecked cones giving evidence of a previous incident). Now imagine if there were any workmen there too, thank God they are never about!
The Brits on the other hand have absolutely shedloads of cones that guide the drivers well before any changes, along with average speed cameras and appropriate limits that people generally keep to. We even have people working on the road works too, it is so much more efficient.
What of other health and safety then? Well when the builder was working on our house the lift they used was interesting, I am not entirely sure if it was certified as fit for purpose or indeed stable. I was however going up and down all day on the thing carting bricks up and down. I suspect that a builder (a decent one) in the UK would construct a scaffold next to the house and it would be almost nuclear proof. There was a plank of wood from the roof to the lift, this would make contact with the lift as it got to the top. There were no hand rails and I would push the wheelbarrow across the gap. It is a different attitude to the whole subject. Although An tells me that she doubts whether it conformed to normal practice in Belgium. I have to say that I have noticed cranes with loads suspended above the street when they have shut down and gone for beer and frietjes. There seems to be no consideration that the load may fall or swing into things, maybe incidents do happen but no more so than anywhere else?
I won't begin to talk about playgrounds, you should see the stuff they have in these places, the kids love it but a British health and safety guru would have kittens. There are far too many high things to fall off, fast moving bits to hit people and quite frankly hard objects that can cause injury. How on earth will Belgian kids get to adulthood with such dangerous places to grow up and no one supervising them either, I fear for them. I remember having to face these challenges myself and boy was it....oh hang on, I actually survived! Maybe I was really lucky?
I will leave you with a classic phrase from my childhood relating to being picked on by much older and bigger kids. My parents used to say, 'the bigger they are, the harder they fall', complete and utter tosh. The bigger they are the more they can kick seven bells out of you if you get caught. David and Goliath is a story in the Bible and unless you are a ninja then generally speaking bigger people (when you are a kid) are best as either allies or avoided. You would not believe it now but I was a very fast runner.
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Getting Married
I met An in October 2005 and after courtship that lasted a couple of years I thought it might be timely to pop the question. I had received a few combat indicators from the family and An, which meant that there was a fair chance of success.
I have always been one to get quite attached quite early in my relationships, but in this case and more recently I had acquired an attitude of taking things as they came. I wasn't really looking when An showed up, in fact we met on a horse riding holiday in Tuscany. I even had my mother with me as I wanted to show her another part of the world, not having had the chance to travel far. I said to my mam, when she said that she didn't want to cramp my style, 'oh no I have no intention of meeting anyone!' My mother checked An out and observed the flirting each day we went riding, she neglected to brief me though! An for her part had always been quite cool when in relationships, not wanting settle down, often cutting things short.
Anyway, when we came to getting married I was in the process of getting a Belgian ID card. When you live in Belgium you must register with your local town hall, this is so that they know you are here legitimately and so they can send you a tax return.
In order to get married you need to involve the town hall, in essence you can have both a civil ceremony and a church service or just a civil ceremony. You must have the civil bit, the equivalent of going to the Registry Office back in the UK. However, it is not just a case of booking the event and attending, there are forms to fill in and in my case I had three challenges to overcome before I could have the ceremony.
Now I am not talking about slaying dragons or climbing mountains, although that would have a degree of logic, no. I had to: prove I was British, prove I was not married and obtain a copy of the marriage laws of the UK in Dutch. Now I know what you are thinking, holding a British passport surely means that I am in fact British or at least I have British citizenship. Sadly this official document, which allows me to travel across borders and is recognised as my identity document in countless countries around the world was not sufficient, in a word balls. Now the second challenge really was a challenge, did I have to go round every town hall in the UK and get a declaration? I had no idea how to prove that I was not already married. The last one was the easiest but I would have to obtain the relevant laws and get them officially translated (could not be done by any normal person, but has to be properly translated).
The next hurdle was dates and timing, it would have to be a Saturday and therefore twice the cost of a weekday and I had to have a minimum period of time before they could process the paperwork. At this point in exasperation I said, forget it I'll get married in Scotland, it is both easier and quicker! They did relent and tried to be a little less obstructive at that point.
In the end I had to go to the British Embassy to get the certificate of Britishness, Laws of marriage and a declaration that I was not married. The Embassy were familiar with this process and asked me to bring along the specific document from the town hall as all of them asked for differing things. Of course it cost to have these documents provided, but then no more expensive than any other wedding stuff.
The wedding traditions are a little different over here, apparently the groom is supposed to collect the bride and then take her to the venue. I did make a point of having my last night of freedom among my closest friends and family. An was going to make her own way there having been collected by her sister. I was waiting at the local town hall for her arrival.
There are some details to fill in here, I along with my circle of trust stayed at a hotel in Leuven. We had the Last Supper and then retired to the hotel where I and my two best mates had a nightcap. I left Sam and Spider to it after a while and unfortunately they proceeded to drink one or two more beers and spirits, including the dreaded Duval. Duval in Dutch is devil and it is quite appropriate a name too! Sam can drink like a trouper and so can Spider, the difference however can be seen the following morning.
We rose and had breakfast and I was in a bit of a tense mood. I, for the first time, was quite stressed about getting things organised and being on time. Meanwhile back in Aarschot An was the exact opposite and utterly relaxed about the whole thing. When Spider turned to for breakfast he was as white as a sheet and experience told me that this condition would get worse before it got better. He was not at all well and his first words when he met my future father-in-law was; 'can you tell me where the toilet is please?' He was sick to the extent that even the cat refused to enter the toilet after he had finished. The nice touch of the spatter on his jacket rounded it off, much to the amusement of all present. I was still tense but only to get things done to timing. I was driving a small minibus carting everyone around. I was told at least once that it was not too late to escape to Las Vegas.
Once I got to the town hall I then became very calm, it was because there was nothing else I could do. From then on it was a very, very laid back and relaxed day.
Tradition dictates that the bride and groom lead the way into the town hall and everyone else follows, I wanted to do it the British way which was to have everyone seated and me up front waiting. Nope, I was alone with Sam waiting at the front whilst everyone else came in after An, it felt a bit weird but then I suppose I had not briefed everyone about what I wanted. The ceremony was all in Dutch, which I am afraid I was not up to speed with. The best bit of the ceremony was signing a blank sheet of paper, upon which they could write anything!
When the ceremony was over we left together this time and in front of the crowd as it should be! Waiting outside were the ladies of the Ladies Circle with champagne, we then had a drink in the park with the guys who turned up, it was a bit like a garden party. The sun was out and it was a really pleasant afternoon. We overran on the timing and were a little late for the reception, which was a very small do in the same restaurant that I had proposed to An in, The Gelofte.
We followed up the reception with an evening do at our place, again only small do for the close friends and family. My mate Sam and his wife Mandy had flown in from New York and were feeling the effects and Mandy was pregnant too. We had two wedding cakes, a traditional British fruit cake (brought through by air by my mother)and a Belgian sponge with fresh cream and fruit. It seemed to last for ages and eventually we got to the hotel in Leuven with the rest of the gang. We had a breakfast the following day to round things off.
The following day (Sunday 25th May, apart from being my brother's birthday), Sam and Mandy were due to fly out to the UK. There was an air crash at Brussels Airport the same day, which was a bit off-putting. There was no honeymoon as I had to get back to work in Scotland ready for my deployment to Iraq!
I have always been one to get quite attached quite early in my relationships, but in this case and more recently I had acquired an attitude of taking things as they came. I wasn't really looking when An showed up, in fact we met on a horse riding holiday in Tuscany. I even had my mother with me as I wanted to show her another part of the world, not having had the chance to travel far. I said to my mam, when she said that she didn't want to cramp my style, 'oh no I have no intention of meeting anyone!' My mother checked An out and observed the flirting each day we went riding, she neglected to brief me though! An for her part had always been quite cool when in relationships, not wanting settle down, often cutting things short.
Anyway, when we came to getting married I was in the process of getting a Belgian ID card. When you live in Belgium you must register with your local town hall, this is so that they know you are here legitimately and so they can send you a tax return.
In order to get married you need to involve the town hall, in essence you can have both a civil ceremony and a church service or just a civil ceremony. You must have the civil bit, the equivalent of going to the Registry Office back in the UK. However, it is not just a case of booking the event and attending, there are forms to fill in and in my case I had three challenges to overcome before I could have the ceremony.
Now I am not talking about slaying dragons or climbing mountains, although that would have a degree of logic, no. I had to: prove I was British, prove I was not married and obtain a copy of the marriage laws of the UK in Dutch. Now I know what you are thinking, holding a British passport surely means that I am in fact British or at least I have British citizenship. Sadly this official document, which allows me to travel across borders and is recognised as my identity document in countless countries around the world was not sufficient, in a word balls. Now the second challenge really was a challenge, did I have to go round every town hall in the UK and get a declaration? I had no idea how to prove that I was not already married. The last one was the easiest but I would have to obtain the relevant laws and get them officially translated (could not be done by any normal person, but has to be properly translated).
The next hurdle was dates and timing, it would have to be a Saturday and therefore twice the cost of a weekday and I had to have a minimum period of time before they could process the paperwork. At this point in exasperation I said, forget it I'll get married in Scotland, it is both easier and quicker! They did relent and tried to be a little less obstructive at that point.
In the end I had to go to the British Embassy to get the certificate of Britishness, Laws of marriage and a declaration that I was not married. The Embassy were familiar with this process and asked me to bring along the specific document from the town hall as all of them asked for differing things. Of course it cost to have these documents provided, but then no more expensive than any other wedding stuff.
The wedding traditions are a little different over here, apparently the groom is supposed to collect the bride and then take her to the venue. I did make a point of having my last night of freedom among my closest friends and family. An was going to make her own way there having been collected by her sister. I was waiting at the local town hall for her arrival.
There are some details to fill in here, I along with my circle of trust stayed at a hotel in Leuven. We had the Last Supper and then retired to the hotel where I and my two best mates had a nightcap. I left Sam and Spider to it after a while and unfortunately they proceeded to drink one or two more beers and spirits, including the dreaded Duval. Duval in Dutch is devil and it is quite appropriate a name too! Sam can drink like a trouper and so can Spider, the difference however can be seen the following morning.
We rose and had breakfast and I was in a bit of a tense mood. I, for the first time, was quite stressed about getting things organised and being on time. Meanwhile back in Aarschot An was the exact opposite and utterly relaxed about the whole thing. When Spider turned to for breakfast he was as white as a sheet and experience told me that this condition would get worse before it got better. He was not at all well and his first words when he met my future father-in-law was; 'can you tell me where the toilet is please?' He was sick to the extent that even the cat refused to enter the toilet after he had finished. The nice touch of the spatter on his jacket rounded it off, much to the amusement of all present. I was still tense but only to get things done to timing. I was driving a small minibus carting everyone around. I was told at least once that it was not too late to escape to Las Vegas.
Once I got to the town hall I then became very calm, it was because there was nothing else I could do. From then on it was a very, very laid back and relaxed day.
Tradition dictates that the bride and groom lead the way into the town hall and everyone else follows, I wanted to do it the British way which was to have everyone seated and me up front waiting. Nope, I was alone with Sam waiting at the front whilst everyone else came in after An, it felt a bit weird but then I suppose I had not briefed everyone about what I wanted. The ceremony was all in Dutch, which I am afraid I was not up to speed with. The best bit of the ceremony was signing a blank sheet of paper, upon which they could write anything!
When the ceremony was over we left together this time and in front of the crowd as it should be! Waiting outside were the ladies of the Ladies Circle with champagne, we then had a drink in the park with the guys who turned up, it was a bit like a garden party. The sun was out and it was a really pleasant afternoon. We overran on the timing and were a little late for the reception, which was a very small do in the same restaurant that I had proposed to An in, The Gelofte.
We followed up the reception with an evening do at our place, again only small do for the close friends and family. My mate Sam and his wife Mandy had flown in from New York and were feeling the effects and Mandy was pregnant too. We had two wedding cakes, a traditional British fruit cake (brought through by air by my mother)and a Belgian sponge with fresh cream and fruit. It seemed to last for ages and eventually we got to the hotel in Leuven with the rest of the gang. We had a breakfast the following day to round things off.
The following day (Sunday 25th May, apart from being my brother's birthday), Sam and Mandy were due to fly out to the UK. There was an air crash at Brussels Airport the same day, which was a bit off-putting. There was no honeymoon as I had to get back to work in Scotland ready for my deployment to Iraq!
Sunday, 23 June 2013
Let's Buy a Box of Bees!
An managed to find a company that sells boxes of bumble bees, the idea being that they can be placed in the garden and then cross pollinate the plants as they go about their business. They only last between 8-9 weeks and then they die off, the queen survives and goes off to make her home elsewhere. All of this for 70 euros, although you can get a smaller box. The 70 euros gets you 7-800 bees. If you are interested then the website is here www.biogroei-shop.be.
I was having lunch with my colleagues and I told them that the following day I was going to pick up these bees. This caused some amusement and curiosity. Surly it was going to be dangerous to transport 700 bees in the car? What if they were homing bees and as soon as I open the box they all bugger off back to the shop? I had to bee certain it was going to bee safe! The lady in the shop told me that I had to bee careful not to rock the box too much as there is a water/sugar solution that is the food and if it comes into contact with the cotton wool (their nest) then it will be bad. Of course I then set out over winding roads and undulating hills a bit like Postman Pat, great no chance of sloshing about there then. To make matters worse despite my exceptionally careful driving I did end up with a couple of dodgem cars in front of me that insisted on doing an extreme trial on their brakes, they worked and were very effective, thankfully so where mine. I think the bees were getting car sick by the time I got home.
I had images in my mind at one point of herding bees, but then I am not sure what the equivalent to a sheepdog would be for the bee world, a bird of some description maybe? I did see a programme recently that said Bees are positively charged and flowers are negatively charged so when a flower has been visited it then remains neutral for a while. Apparently bees are attracted to negatively charge things. As an added precaution when transporting them I thought I should positively charge myself, but then that would be a bit extreme.
Once home I set the box of bees inside a rabbit hutch, you will be pleased to hear there were no rabbits in there too, we bought the hutch to keep the box out of the sun and rain. The box can either be closed, have an entrance open that allows bees in but not out and then have one that allows both entry and exit. The idea being if you want to work in the garden you only have the one way hole open for two hours then they are all in. We had to wait until they had settled for the night and let them out the next day. There was no rush though, when we did open the door they just had a quick look outside and went back in, it was a bit damp. They stuck a leg out gave a tut and then thought naaaaahh, maybe later.
I am looking forward to seeing a bit more of them!
I was having lunch with my colleagues and I told them that the following day I was going to pick up these bees. This caused some amusement and curiosity. Surly it was going to be dangerous to transport 700 bees in the car? What if they were homing bees and as soon as I open the box they all bugger off back to the shop? I had to bee certain it was going to bee safe! The lady in the shop told me that I had to bee careful not to rock the box too much as there is a water/sugar solution that is the food and if it comes into contact with the cotton wool (their nest) then it will be bad. Of course I then set out over winding roads and undulating hills a bit like Postman Pat, great no chance of sloshing about there then. To make matters worse despite my exceptionally careful driving I did end up with a couple of dodgem cars in front of me that insisted on doing an extreme trial on their brakes, they worked and were very effective, thankfully so where mine. I think the bees were getting car sick by the time I got home.
I had images in my mind at one point of herding bees, but then I am not sure what the equivalent to a sheepdog would be for the bee world, a bird of some description maybe? I did see a programme recently that said Bees are positively charged and flowers are negatively charged so when a flower has been visited it then remains neutral for a while. Apparently bees are attracted to negatively charge things. As an added precaution when transporting them I thought I should positively charge myself, but then that would be a bit extreme.
Once home I set the box of bees inside a rabbit hutch, you will be pleased to hear there were no rabbits in there too, we bought the hutch to keep the box out of the sun and rain. The box can either be closed, have an entrance open that allows bees in but not out and then have one that allows both entry and exit. The idea being if you want to work in the garden you only have the one way hole open for two hours then they are all in. We had to wait until they had settled for the night and let them out the next day. There was no rush though, when we did open the door they just had a quick look outside and went back in, it was a bit damp. They stuck a leg out gave a tut and then thought naaaaahh, maybe later.
I am looking forward to seeing a bit more of them!
Saturday, 22 June 2013
Travelling
Firstly I must apologise for the gap between this and my last post. It has been a tad busy what with a trip to London and some time off in between.
An and I went over to London with Pia, her best friend. The trip is almost an annual event where we go over to shop for shoes and then take in a musical when we have time. I am pleased to say that after another trip I am well on the way to completing the directory of shoe shops to be found in all parts of the Greater London area. Actually our programme was quite comprehensive, which I shall now relate.
We set out at silly o'clock in the morning in a bid to miss the rush hour traffic on the Thursday morning. We had to travel down from Aarschot, past Leuven and on to the ring road, then traverse the most congested part between Zaventem and the turn off to Antwerp (we carried on to the Gent exit), after that the run down to the coast was uneventful. In fact we were quite lucky, apart from two drivers who I scared the crap out of by doing some enforced manoeuvres brought on by the erratic driving of other motorists. We made it to the Eurotunnel in plenty of time and made the crossing ahead of schedule. That was the 2 1/2 hour drive out of the way on this side, we noted the severe traffic jams on the opposite side of the road and were grateful to be heading in the other direction. As we exited the tunnel and got underway things were going just fine until we hit an unexplained traffic jam as we got up towards the M20/M25 junction, we had plenty of time though as we did not need to be at the Albert Hall until 15.00. I cannot remember when we got to the hotel in Ealing but it was around 11.30 ish. We left the hotel not long thereafter and headed into town.
For those who do not know, the Victoria and Albert museum is in South Kensington, which is not too far away from Ealing relatively speaking. We bought some Oyster cards, a very good tip, as they could be given credit which you use as and when you travel. If you happen to reach the point where a travel card would have been cheaper then it caps the cost at this level, otherwise it takes fares as you use them. The Oyster card has a deposit of £5, which can be reclaimed along with any unused credit at the end of your trip. One point of warning though, you cannot get a refund from a combined Tube/railway station, it has to be just a tube station. Don't ask why but that is the way it is. We stopped off in South Kensington for lunch at a Pain de Quoitidien, one of An's favoured hostelries. During lunch we played a game to spot those ladies who do not have to work for a living and decided that those carrying backpacks were definitely tourists.
Now I didn't know this, but the V&A is right next door to the Natural History Museum and both of these are well worth a visit. We were a bit early for the David Bowie exhibition, which was being tightly controlled by using timed access. We took the opportunity to traverse the shop, actually you could not get round this, very clever marketing. There were a large number of kids in the shop who were, along with others, barging about and getting very excited about the souvenirs available in the shop. It was not long to wait though and my feet were already protesting at the length of time I would be standing, a sad feature of my trips to London.
David Bowie is not someone who I am a particular fan of but then it is always nice to learn something new and to understand a bit about his work. I have to say the two key points I picked up on was that he had had a fight when a boy and suffered a punch to the eye which left him with a permanently dilated pupil, the other was that he is called David Jones and changed his name to differentiate between the singer from the Monkees. Both were a revelation to me and now I shall look closely to every picture of him that I look at from now on! The rest of it was an education as well but he was really before my time. We bought a platinum album which included songs from the 60s, 70s and 80s, clearly this had some dross on as far as I was concerned but I recognised quite a few of the well known ones.
When we left the museum we headed off towards Chelsea for the first of our marathon walking/shopping expeditions. It was not far to go and to cut a long story short I ended up reluctantly buying a pair of shoes for £145, these were comfortable, initially but not when worn for the entire day the following day!
We got back and had supper at the hotel, the service there was very good I have to say. I did get an odd phone call asking if I still wanted to keep both rooms, which was odd as I was standing in one of them as I took the call. It would appear that I had booked two rooms by accident, although I did not get the customary confirmation email when I did so. More importantly the man I spoke to when checking in did not think to question the double booking at the time. Thankfully I did not get charged otherwise I would have been most unimpressed.
The following day we took a trip up to Camden Town, where the girls bought no less than 5 pairs of shoes between them, including a pair of Doc Martin boots from the British Boot Company. Camden Town is an amazing place, full of market stalls and interesting shops, I would strongly recommend a visit. There is also a world foods area where you can get a whole range of different food to sit and eat either there and then or by the lock gates. It is a place where you could spend a while with a camera and get some great shots. I met an American Artist who had a tag which was called the Killer Bunny, he combined rabbits with movie and TV scenes with some quite disturbing images. Not for the kids I have to say but fascinating as an idea. He told me that he got his inspiration from Watership Down and chose to combine that with the Movies and TV. I showed An the picture he had of Smurfs being nailed to the wall, she was not impressed (Smurfs originating from Belgium). Check out the website but be prepared to be shocked! http://www.killerbunny.co.uk/egn2/
We continued our trip by heading to Spitalfields and then Brick Lane. Really it was just a shopping trip disguised as a sightseeing tour. Brick Lane was not what I was expecting but Spitalfields is worth a trip. We finished up by heading to my Aunt and Uncles place in Clapham and had a nice curry. We made our delivery of Neuhaus chocolates and caught up with the family, apart from Max who was out at the time.
Saturday was also going to be a bit of a shopping day but we also planned to take in a Salvador Dali exhibition followed by a show in the evening. There was a plan to get to Libertys and I wanted to get some photographic kit from nearby Wardour Street. It was this day, with regret, that I wore my new shoes and paid the price with my feet. I only had the whole day walking for God only knows how far. You would think after having reached the age of 40 that I would know the risks associated with buying new shoes and then breaking them in. When looking for the photographic shop on Wardour street I of course turned the wrong way down the street and walked the entire length of it before realising that the shop was in the opposite direction. I had neglected to make a note of the number and knew only too well that had I abandoned my search down one end it would have been but 10 metres further on. Anyway I did find it and it was disappointingly tiny but yet well equipped. I was after a background support, which they had. I also bought a couple of other things spending around £200 in the shop and now looking like an assassin carrying a rifle in my black elongated bag that held the stands. It was heavy and awkward, but I was willing to bear the burden. I also took in a trip to Hamley's, I could not walk by without checking it out as usual.
Once the shopping phase was done we headed off to see Rock of Ages, this is a show that takes well known Rock songs and mixes it with a typical story of hope, love and celebration. It is really very funny the 'compere', for want of a better word, was outstanding. I don't know what came first the show of the film but I just cannot imagine the movie because I cannot see how it would work. I won't spoil it for you but you will not be disappointed.
For Sunday we took in the Bluewater shopping centre on the way back and also stopped off to get some nice things from a branch of Sainsburys, this was topping up on UK stuff. Strangely enough we did this and then started the Dukan diet (a strict protein diet that lasts a while). I currently have two blocks of Wenslydale cheese, two malt loaves, some crunchy peanut butter, Hartley's blackcurrent jam, sandwich spread and Pringles. Thankfully they have a long use by date and we have some visitors in July so we will be breaking the rules then!
An and I went over to London with Pia, her best friend. The trip is almost an annual event where we go over to shop for shoes and then take in a musical when we have time. I am pleased to say that after another trip I am well on the way to completing the directory of shoe shops to be found in all parts of the Greater London area. Actually our programme was quite comprehensive, which I shall now relate.
We set out at silly o'clock in the morning in a bid to miss the rush hour traffic on the Thursday morning. We had to travel down from Aarschot, past Leuven and on to the ring road, then traverse the most congested part between Zaventem and the turn off to Antwerp (we carried on to the Gent exit), after that the run down to the coast was uneventful. In fact we were quite lucky, apart from two drivers who I scared the crap out of by doing some enforced manoeuvres brought on by the erratic driving of other motorists. We made it to the Eurotunnel in plenty of time and made the crossing ahead of schedule. That was the 2 1/2 hour drive out of the way on this side, we noted the severe traffic jams on the opposite side of the road and were grateful to be heading in the other direction. As we exited the tunnel and got underway things were going just fine until we hit an unexplained traffic jam as we got up towards the M20/M25 junction, we had plenty of time though as we did not need to be at the Albert Hall until 15.00. I cannot remember when we got to the hotel in Ealing but it was around 11.30 ish. We left the hotel not long thereafter and headed into town.
For those who do not know, the Victoria and Albert museum is in South Kensington, which is not too far away from Ealing relatively speaking. We bought some Oyster cards, a very good tip, as they could be given credit which you use as and when you travel. If you happen to reach the point where a travel card would have been cheaper then it caps the cost at this level, otherwise it takes fares as you use them. The Oyster card has a deposit of £5, which can be reclaimed along with any unused credit at the end of your trip. One point of warning though, you cannot get a refund from a combined Tube/railway station, it has to be just a tube station. Don't ask why but that is the way it is. We stopped off in South Kensington for lunch at a Pain de Quoitidien, one of An's favoured hostelries. During lunch we played a game to spot those ladies who do not have to work for a living and decided that those carrying backpacks were definitely tourists.
Now I didn't know this, but the V&A is right next door to the Natural History Museum and both of these are well worth a visit. We were a bit early for the David Bowie exhibition, which was being tightly controlled by using timed access. We took the opportunity to traverse the shop, actually you could not get round this, very clever marketing. There were a large number of kids in the shop who were, along with others, barging about and getting very excited about the souvenirs available in the shop. It was not long to wait though and my feet were already protesting at the length of time I would be standing, a sad feature of my trips to London.
David Bowie is not someone who I am a particular fan of but then it is always nice to learn something new and to understand a bit about his work. I have to say the two key points I picked up on was that he had had a fight when a boy and suffered a punch to the eye which left him with a permanently dilated pupil, the other was that he is called David Jones and changed his name to differentiate between the singer from the Monkees. Both were a revelation to me and now I shall look closely to every picture of him that I look at from now on! The rest of it was an education as well but he was really before my time. We bought a platinum album which included songs from the 60s, 70s and 80s, clearly this had some dross on as far as I was concerned but I recognised quite a few of the well known ones.
When we left the museum we headed off towards Chelsea for the first of our marathon walking/shopping expeditions. It was not far to go and to cut a long story short I ended up reluctantly buying a pair of shoes for £145, these were comfortable, initially but not when worn for the entire day the following day!
We got back and had supper at the hotel, the service there was very good I have to say. I did get an odd phone call asking if I still wanted to keep both rooms, which was odd as I was standing in one of them as I took the call. It would appear that I had booked two rooms by accident, although I did not get the customary confirmation email when I did so. More importantly the man I spoke to when checking in did not think to question the double booking at the time. Thankfully I did not get charged otherwise I would have been most unimpressed.
The following day we took a trip up to Camden Town, where the girls bought no less than 5 pairs of shoes between them, including a pair of Doc Martin boots from the British Boot Company. Camden Town is an amazing place, full of market stalls and interesting shops, I would strongly recommend a visit. There is also a world foods area where you can get a whole range of different food to sit and eat either there and then or by the lock gates. It is a place where you could spend a while with a camera and get some great shots. I met an American Artist who had a tag which was called the Killer Bunny, he combined rabbits with movie and TV scenes with some quite disturbing images. Not for the kids I have to say but fascinating as an idea. He told me that he got his inspiration from Watership Down and chose to combine that with the Movies and TV. I showed An the picture he had of Smurfs being nailed to the wall, she was not impressed (Smurfs originating from Belgium). Check out the website but be prepared to be shocked! http://www.killerbunny.co.uk/egn2/
We continued our trip by heading to Spitalfields and then Brick Lane. Really it was just a shopping trip disguised as a sightseeing tour. Brick Lane was not what I was expecting but Spitalfields is worth a trip. We finished up by heading to my Aunt and Uncles place in Clapham and had a nice curry. We made our delivery of Neuhaus chocolates and caught up with the family, apart from Max who was out at the time.
Saturday was also going to be a bit of a shopping day but we also planned to take in a Salvador Dali exhibition followed by a show in the evening. There was a plan to get to Libertys and I wanted to get some photographic kit from nearby Wardour Street. It was this day, with regret, that I wore my new shoes and paid the price with my feet. I only had the whole day walking for God only knows how far. You would think after having reached the age of 40 that I would know the risks associated with buying new shoes and then breaking them in. When looking for the photographic shop on Wardour street I of course turned the wrong way down the street and walked the entire length of it before realising that the shop was in the opposite direction. I had neglected to make a note of the number and knew only too well that had I abandoned my search down one end it would have been but 10 metres further on. Anyway I did find it and it was disappointingly tiny but yet well equipped. I was after a background support, which they had. I also bought a couple of other things spending around £200 in the shop and now looking like an assassin carrying a rifle in my black elongated bag that held the stands. It was heavy and awkward, but I was willing to bear the burden. I also took in a trip to Hamley's, I could not walk by without checking it out as usual.
Once the shopping phase was done we headed off to see Rock of Ages, this is a show that takes well known Rock songs and mixes it with a typical story of hope, love and celebration. It is really very funny the 'compere', for want of a better word, was outstanding. I don't know what came first the show of the film but I just cannot imagine the movie because I cannot see how it would work. I won't spoil it for you but you will not be disappointed.
For Sunday we took in the Bluewater shopping centre on the way back and also stopped off to get some nice things from a branch of Sainsburys, this was topping up on UK stuff. Strangely enough we did this and then started the Dukan diet (a strict protein diet that lasts a while). I currently have two blocks of Wenslydale cheese, two malt loaves, some crunchy peanut butter, Hartley's blackcurrent jam, sandwich spread and Pringles. Thankfully they have a long use by date and we have some visitors in July so we will be breaking the rules then!
Just Minding My Own Business
I am now commuting daily between home and work, which on a good day is about an hour and a quarter but on a bad day anything pushing 2-3. As you can imagine with most places the volume of traffic is rather predictable at given points. I am lucky in that most of my route is free moving most of the time.
Anyway as I was pootling along at 120km/h ish I was happily listening to the radio and avoiding the potholes and crazy loons with their last minute.com changes to road position. On the radio, once again freely airing, Rosana's 'What's My Mother f**king Name' was playing out uncensored and probably in multiple nursery schools across Belgium. Now I am used to the apparent lack of regard for explicit English swear words being used on the Belgian radio during the day but what nearly made me swerve into the central reservation and had me cursing at the radio was when the DJ and his guest had an exchange. The subject of the exchange escapes me now but the guest muttered under his breath God Damn It in Dutch and was told off by the DJ saying hey hey this is national radio, please! I mean what? I think my tirade at the radio lasted at least 2 minutes. It made an otherwise routine trip just a tad more interesting.
Anyway as I was pootling along at 120km/h ish I was happily listening to the radio and avoiding the potholes and crazy loons with their last minute.com changes to road position. On the radio, once again freely airing, Rosana's 'What's My Mother f**king Name' was playing out uncensored and probably in multiple nursery schools across Belgium. Now I am used to the apparent lack of regard for explicit English swear words being used on the Belgian radio during the day but what nearly made me swerve into the central reservation and had me cursing at the radio was when the DJ and his guest had an exchange. The subject of the exchange escapes me now but the guest muttered under his breath God Damn It in Dutch and was told off by the DJ saying hey hey this is national radio, please! I mean what? I think my tirade at the radio lasted at least 2 minutes. It made an otherwise routine trip just a tad more interesting.
Tuesday, 4 June 2013
Home
One day I was driving over from the UK, back from work to my new home. I have driven the route from Portsmouth up the A3, along the M25, down the M20, through the tunnel, then from Calais through France towards Brussels, round the ring road and then up towards Leuven and then the last stretch to Aarschot. I got so used to this that I started getting the welcoming feeling as I passed Leuven. It is the kind of feeling you get when you have been away from home and the familiar landmarks begin to appear as you near the area of your youth, your upbringing. The thought occurred to me that, although I feel welcome, I have very little local knowledge of the area in which I live. Back home in Gateshead, in the UK, I know the area down to the finest details. I don't need to orientate myself because I just know where everything is. Mind you growing up in a conurbation such as Tyneside, you cannot possibly know everywhere, but I knew our territory very well. I know where to go to get things or indeed find things. In Aarschot I depend on knowing a lot less and being a little less orientated. I cannot tell you which way is North or indeed which way most cities are relative to where I am. Of course, I do know where things are relative to Aarschot on a map, but on the ground it is a different story. I can work out which direction North is by using the sun and my watch but I have never taken the time to do that.
The feeling of being at home is special, there is nowhere quite as welcoming for me as the North East of England. The accent is special and it honestly feels like everyone is part of my family when I am out and about. I could sit and listen in a bar all day just absorbing that feeling of comfort. Here in Belgium it is not that I do not fit in or I do not feel welcome, I know some fantastic people here, both friends and family and I love them dearly.
I suppose one way to look at it is that I have spent 40 years learning to express myself, be able to read and write in English and I would like to think that I can hold a decent debate given the chance. Unfortunately I am starting out somewhat behind the curve in Dutch. I am very fortunate that the people I have met are just as good in English as they are in Dutch so I don't have to have the advanced skills I need to be able to hold a complex conversation. It is not that I want to chat deeply about politics or some other technical subject it is just that I am a social animal and I like to interact!
It can be frustrating not being able to read and understand instructions in Dutch as I have a natural inclination to check things and to follow instructions, most of the time. I have to rely on An for most of this and this includes when I am not happy with someone and I wish to make my feelings clear. When I want to complain, half of me thinks can I actually get my message across and the other half thinks what is the point? Of course the way to get round this is to learn Dutch, I only have around 32 years to go before I get fully proficient and even then one must remember that as a child I absorbed a lot more information that I am probably capable of doing so now!
The other thing about home is that I spend a lot less time with my UK friends which can be quite testing. I have been used to being able to more or less drop by but over the last 10 years or so I have been less able to visit people. When I go to London I often meet up with friends and family and it is like an injection of energy. Unfortunately I know quite a few people further afield and it is quite difficult to reach them at times.
Sometimes it is difficult to imagine that An must feel as familiar with the local areas as I do when I am at home. Although she has lived away from home before, we are living in her town of birth and so she is or rather should be completely at ease with where everything is. This makes for interesting conversations when in the car looking for our destination and not knowing where we are, especially when the satnav is playing up. An often ignores the satnav, which then has a mental breakdown and then refuses to cooperate, then An will admit to being lost because the roads have in fact changed or are blocked. Roads are blocked more often than you would think. It is not just An though, I have had this in the car with her dad too, who questions the satnav and then, eventually, realises we do not know where we are. I don't have the luxury of local knowledge and therefore I depend upon the satnav, which usually knows where it is going!
Back in the UK and the North East I almost always use my satnav too, but this is because I appreciate the speed and distance information it gives me and not necessarily the directions. You do become less dependent upon signs and it is quite interesting that I will still read the road signs and yet some people either don't or they do but it does not sink in. That is my way of explaining some erratic driving. Because I have been away from the North East for the best part of 18 years, the road systems keep changing so it is as well to keep your eyes open for signage and road markings.
When I compare my home in Gateshead to my home in Aarschot, well there is no direct comparison possible. Gateshead is more dangerous from a crime point of view but then better from the aspect of choice of shopping (of any kind). Even Leuven does not offer anywhere near the range of choice, but it is a more picturesque place to shop even given the risk of being run over by pretty female students on bikes. At least I would have a smile on my face as I feel the tyres bump over my head. There are too many cars in Gateshead and simply not enough room for them and there are precious few bikes, the girls are still pretty though even if a little under-dressed.
A trip home is always a good one though!
The feeling of being at home is special, there is nowhere quite as welcoming for me as the North East of England. The accent is special and it honestly feels like everyone is part of my family when I am out and about. I could sit and listen in a bar all day just absorbing that feeling of comfort. Here in Belgium it is not that I do not fit in or I do not feel welcome, I know some fantastic people here, both friends and family and I love them dearly.
I suppose one way to look at it is that I have spent 40 years learning to express myself, be able to read and write in English and I would like to think that I can hold a decent debate given the chance. Unfortunately I am starting out somewhat behind the curve in Dutch. I am very fortunate that the people I have met are just as good in English as they are in Dutch so I don't have to have the advanced skills I need to be able to hold a complex conversation. It is not that I want to chat deeply about politics or some other technical subject it is just that I am a social animal and I like to interact!
It can be frustrating not being able to read and understand instructions in Dutch as I have a natural inclination to check things and to follow instructions, most of the time. I have to rely on An for most of this and this includes when I am not happy with someone and I wish to make my feelings clear. When I want to complain, half of me thinks can I actually get my message across and the other half thinks what is the point? Of course the way to get round this is to learn Dutch, I only have around 32 years to go before I get fully proficient and even then one must remember that as a child I absorbed a lot more information that I am probably capable of doing so now!
The other thing about home is that I spend a lot less time with my UK friends which can be quite testing. I have been used to being able to more or less drop by but over the last 10 years or so I have been less able to visit people. When I go to London I often meet up with friends and family and it is like an injection of energy. Unfortunately I know quite a few people further afield and it is quite difficult to reach them at times.
Sometimes it is difficult to imagine that An must feel as familiar with the local areas as I do when I am at home. Although she has lived away from home before, we are living in her town of birth and so she is or rather should be completely at ease with where everything is. This makes for interesting conversations when in the car looking for our destination and not knowing where we are, especially when the satnav is playing up. An often ignores the satnav, which then has a mental breakdown and then refuses to cooperate, then An will admit to being lost because the roads have in fact changed or are blocked. Roads are blocked more often than you would think. It is not just An though, I have had this in the car with her dad too, who questions the satnav and then, eventually, realises we do not know where we are. I don't have the luxury of local knowledge and therefore I depend upon the satnav, which usually knows where it is going!
Back in the UK and the North East I almost always use my satnav too, but this is because I appreciate the speed and distance information it gives me and not necessarily the directions. You do become less dependent upon signs and it is quite interesting that I will still read the road signs and yet some people either don't or they do but it does not sink in. That is my way of explaining some erratic driving. Because I have been away from the North East for the best part of 18 years, the road systems keep changing so it is as well to keep your eyes open for signage and road markings.
When I compare my home in Gateshead to my home in Aarschot, well there is no direct comparison possible. Gateshead is more dangerous from a crime point of view but then better from the aspect of choice of shopping (of any kind). Even Leuven does not offer anywhere near the range of choice, but it is a more picturesque place to shop even given the risk of being run over by pretty female students on bikes. At least I would have a smile on my face as I feel the tyres bump over my head. There are too many cars in Gateshead and simply not enough room for them and there are precious few bikes, the girls are still pretty though even if a little under-dressed.
A trip home is always a good one though!
Sunday, 2 June 2013
The Cultural View
I was 16 when I first went to London with my grandfather, we travelled down by train and stayed at my Uncles' house in Streatham. There is no easy way to say this but I had never seen so many people of West Indian or African descent. In the North East of England there was at that time a sizeable Jewish population and to a lesser extent those of Indian and Pakistani descent. The Indians and Pakistanis ran most of the local convenience shops in our area. Naively, I thought I had grown up free from any exposure to racist behaviour, the reality was that I had not noticed and therefore thought it didn't exist.
London is how you would describe as cosmopolitan, it is a rich mix of ethnic groups, cultures and traditions. The reality is that in the UK the population composition has changed a great deal since the Second World War, we have people from all over the world coming from Commonwealth countries, what we used to call the British Empire before that term became a bit embarrassing. Since the UK joined the European Economic Community, the forerunner to the European Union, the UK has become even more diversified with citizens from all over Europe, former Eastern block countries and now asylum seekers from all sorts of countries. In essence the UK is a big mixing pot and our culture and identity is changing as a result. Now this is not meant to be a debate about politics, the rights and wrongs of taking in asylum seekers, border controls, the future membership of the European Union, no. My aim in starting this off was to explain why I think London is a much more dangerous place to drive and the people seem less friendly than back home in the North East. I put this down to a lack of understanding and uneven cultural attitudes to driving.
So what has this to do with Belgium then? Well I think that Belgium being in its central position in Europe and having its connections with former colonies has a similar mix of cultures, particularly in the big cities. Where it does differ is that the two predominant language groups of Flemish and Wallonian are very conscious of their identity. So even if there are three official languages in Belgium; Dutch, French and German, they do not really do a lot to help other non-natives out. If you buy some drugs at a pharmacy in Belgium you will get a leaflet out and the chances are the instructions will only be in either Dutch or French and if you are lucky German. In the UK if you buy some drugs then the leaflet will most likely be printed in about 8 or 9 languages. In the UK we seem to bend over backwards to cater for people who do not speak English, in particular in the cities.
I consider myself extremely fortunate that a lot of people in Belgium speak English very well, mainly I have to say this is on the Flemish side. In the Wallonian side they speak English to a lesser extent and this is probably due to the dominance of French speaking TV and radio. The Flemish TV has a great deal of programmes and films in English. These are dubbed in French in Wallonia. Do I think that they are losing their identity because of this, no, not at all. I know where I am and the locals are rightly proud of their heritage and they maintain it very well. You just have to visit one of the local towns when they have an event in the main square, they all have markets and festivals and there is usually a town Prince, which is an ornately dressed person I can best describe as similar in appearance to a Pearly King only more outlandish.
My original intent was to talk about queues and the different attitudes to them, somehow I got onto the composition of the population! Oh well, next time.
London is how you would describe as cosmopolitan, it is a rich mix of ethnic groups, cultures and traditions. The reality is that in the UK the population composition has changed a great deal since the Second World War, we have people from all over the world coming from Commonwealth countries, what we used to call the British Empire before that term became a bit embarrassing. Since the UK joined the European Economic Community, the forerunner to the European Union, the UK has become even more diversified with citizens from all over Europe, former Eastern block countries and now asylum seekers from all sorts of countries. In essence the UK is a big mixing pot and our culture and identity is changing as a result. Now this is not meant to be a debate about politics, the rights and wrongs of taking in asylum seekers, border controls, the future membership of the European Union, no. My aim in starting this off was to explain why I think London is a much more dangerous place to drive and the people seem less friendly than back home in the North East. I put this down to a lack of understanding and uneven cultural attitudes to driving.
So what has this to do with Belgium then? Well I think that Belgium being in its central position in Europe and having its connections with former colonies has a similar mix of cultures, particularly in the big cities. Where it does differ is that the two predominant language groups of Flemish and Wallonian are very conscious of their identity. So even if there are three official languages in Belgium; Dutch, French and German, they do not really do a lot to help other non-natives out. If you buy some drugs at a pharmacy in Belgium you will get a leaflet out and the chances are the instructions will only be in either Dutch or French and if you are lucky German. In the UK if you buy some drugs then the leaflet will most likely be printed in about 8 or 9 languages. In the UK we seem to bend over backwards to cater for people who do not speak English, in particular in the cities.
I consider myself extremely fortunate that a lot of people in Belgium speak English very well, mainly I have to say this is on the Flemish side. In the Wallonian side they speak English to a lesser extent and this is probably due to the dominance of French speaking TV and radio. The Flemish TV has a great deal of programmes and films in English. These are dubbed in French in Wallonia. Do I think that they are losing their identity because of this, no, not at all. I know where I am and the locals are rightly proud of their heritage and they maintain it very well. You just have to visit one of the local towns when they have an event in the main square, they all have markets and festivals and there is usually a town Prince, which is an ornately dressed person I can best describe as similar in appearance to a Pearly King only more outlandish.
My original intent was to talk about queues and the different attitudes to them, somehow I got onto the composition of the population! Oh well, next time.
The 'h' isn't silent in think!
Something that did not occur to me until I started learning Dutch is that there are some sounds in English that are just not replicated in other languages and I suppose the opposite holds true. In this case I often hear An fail to pronounce the 'th' sound when she speaks English. You have to form this sound by placing your tongue between your teeth and then expel out as you say the 'th' bit. It is hard to describe but then not having to think about it, you just know rather than have to explain. In An's case she 'tinks' about it and does not put her tongue between her 'teet'. She trows things, tanks people and is very 'toughtful', most of the time.
I can't think of the equivalent in Dutch but they do have the long ij in makkelijk (easy). In English this combination ij is not found, as far as I know, therefore we don't readily know how to pronounce this or even how to try. When I was learning I found out that it is essentially the same as saying 'air'. In this case you extend it out, there is the shorter version which is 'ei' as in eieren (eggs). As a general rule in Dutch when you have double vowels it means that the sound is longer, single vowels are pronounced shorter. It is here that I miss-pronounce my wife's name I actually say Aan but it is spelt An, it is meant to be abrupt, almost curt really. I say it with a longer 'a' sound.
It works both ways I remember going to the baker for my father-in-law's salt free bread, which had been pre-ordered. When I asked the lady behind the counter, 'u heeft een bestelt voor Rene, zout vrij brood?' she did not understand me, I probably said it a bit quietly and now I was beginning to question whether I was in the right shop or whether the order had been placed at all. I repeated several times and the thing is it was the name she did not understand. Eventually another one of the ladies came through and said who it was for, at which point the other lady did a fantastic impression of the waitress Yvette in Allo Allo as she growled out 'ah rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrennnnnnnneeeeeeeeee'. I should have rolled my 'r' and held it but then I would feel rather stupid saying that as though he were a long lost relative...
By the way if you have not heard of Allo Allo then catch this from Youtube at the link here.
I can't think of the equivalent in Dutch but they do have the long ij in makkelijk (easy). In English this combination ij is not found, as far as I know, therefore we don't readily know how to pronounce this or even how to try. When I was learning I found out that it is essentially the same as saying 'air'. In this case you extend it out, there is the shorter version which is 'ei' as in eieren (eggs). As a general rule in Dutch when you have double vowels it means that the sound is longer, single vowels are pronounced shorter. It is here that I miss-pronounce my wife's name I actually say Aan but it is spelt An, it is meant to be abrupt, almost curt really. I say it with a longer 'a' sound.
It works both ways I remember going to the baker for my father-in-law's salt free bread, which had been pre-ordered. When I asked the lady behind the counter, 'u heeft een bestelt voor Rene, zout vrij brood?' she did not understand me, I probably said it a bit quietly and now I was beginning to question whether I was in the right shop or whether the order had been placed at all. I repeated several times and the thing is it was the name she did not understand. Eventually another one of the ladies came through and said who it was for, at which point the other lady did a fantastic impression of the waitress Yvette in Allo Allo as she growled out 'ah rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrennnnnnnneeeeeeeeee'. I should have rolled my 'r' and held it but then I would feel rather stupid saying that as though he were a long lost relative...
By the way if you have not heard of Allo Allo then catch this from Youtube at the link here.
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