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.
Sunday, 2 June 2013
Tuesday, 28 May 2013
The New Roof
When we bought the house in October 2007 An and I had a long term aim to replace the flat roof with a pitched one and to also replace the windows in the entire house. No small measures here then, the two projects combined would be around 50,000 euros.
I do not really have much to compare this with when it comes to the UK. I once bought a set of UPVC double glazing back in 1995, that was 5 windows and 1 door and it cost £1500, the fitting and quality was poor and I paid up front for it. In Belgium we bought 7 aluminium windows, a garage door and a front door. One of those windows is a sliding door that is about 3 metres wide. The whole lot cost 16,000 euros and we paid something like four months after fitting, no deposit or any form of security. It was quite worrying not being asked for any money. They waited until the last few bits were complete before sending the bill. Mind you they did make their money. We also got tax back, it is part of the incentive to become more energy efficient.
The roof, however, was a far more taxing affair to deal with. We had to secure borrowing and to do that we needed to hire a solicitor and go through a broker, it was just like getting a mortgage. More importantly we had to get an architect in to do the plans and give us advice.
We held a meeting once we had identified a suitable architect, he was recommended although I am not sure why. During the meeting we discussed a number of crucial objectives such as: timing of how long it would take, planning permission, fees and overall cost of the project. All of our discussions were utterly pointless, whatever we said it was either ignored or agreed with and later ignored. As an example, I stated that the cost of the project should come in at no more than 25,000 euros and I asked if this was possible. What the architect should have said is no, what he did say was oh yes it will come in at around that price. The architect's fees eventually were about 4,000 euros, this is a ridiculous 20% of the cost of the project. We did not know this at the time and have learnt our lesson, but 9% is a more common figure. The legal costs were around 1500, but that related to the borrowing being arranged. I cannot remember how much the planning permission cost but this was another screw up by our architect.
When our plans were submitted the architect did not take pictures of the surrounding area or highlight that of the estate of around 100 houses, almost 25 had pitched roofs. So amazingly enough the planning authority in Leuven said we could not build our roof as it was not in keeping with the local area and in addition we could not have solar panels (something we were considering). Our neighbour directly across form us, less than 30 metres away has a pitched roof, so why were we being declined? The neighbour next to her had solar panels on her garage roof and the houses in the surrounding area had stacks of them, another strange decision. Anyway I ended up marking up each house on the estate with a pitched roof and then took it to the architect and said just show them that. This he did and we got our permission (still without the solar panels). I must add at this point that when we called into the town hall for advice, the quality would vary depending upon who you spoke to and indeed what time of day it was. It seems to be a common trait that you don't generally get the same answer twice and therefore my instinct is not to trust what I have been told. In fact the best thing to do is to get them to write it down and sign it off, they then backtrack and make sure they have it right!
The next phase was getting the quotes from the builders, again we held a raft of meetings with several builders to outline our requirements. Any quote takes two weeks to produce and bears no resemblance to any discussions that you may have held with the contractor. I have no idea if this is the case with UK builders. In my experience I have known people to be able to estimate there and then not to wait for two weeks. What inevitably happens is they forget what you have discussed and then have to go for another two weeks whilst they re-do the quote. There is a silver lining to this cloud, which I will get to. The quotes varied wildly between each builder and of course each was using the best quality and construction techniques. We discussed them with the architect and he advised us on the various offers. Eventually we chose one, which was around 19,000 euros but did not do everything that we wanted. In essence it would be a shell with no plasterboard or electrics installed. It also did not include the brickwork for the gable ends, we had to get a separate quote for that. More of that later.
The timing was all shot to bits, this was due to weather and workload of the builder as well as the delays with the plans having to be submitted again. The original timeline was for the work to take place in Jul but in the event it was late August. I had taken time off work to be there and for most of the construction I was not there, more delays. The work took around 3 weeks to complete and I had to harass the builder to turn up once the gable ends had gone up. It was like having two large unstable sails on the house and the flat roof had been compromised.
The gables ends took about a week to put up and I humped brick and blocks from the ground up a rather rickety lift and onto the roof, whilst our brickie did the work. We did not benefit financially from that, the price was fixed, something that has both advantages and disadvantages. The good thing is that it is never more unless you significantly change the requirement and even then it is reasonable. It can, however, end up far too much if it has been overestimated. This happened with the tiling in the bathroom which took around half as long as he expected, we got ripped off here and we made our displeasure known. It was an extremely hot August and toiling with these bricks in the sun was quite something. I have to say the view from the top was also quite impressive.
I had to go back to work for the next phase so I missed the joy of seeing it go up. The roof is made of a wooden construction with essentially 4 triangles running the length of the house. The first triangle is the one form the ridge of the roof to the sides of the house, the big one. Two are one each from each side going in maybe a metre. This way you have no supporting structures spanning the main space and getting in the way. The last one was along the ridge and connecting each side together. I have drawn a rather crude diagram below.
Now the thing that most people dread is when the builder starts to deny all knowledge that you had agreed to do a particular bit of work and that it was included in the price. In our case in involved the removal and disposal of the roofing felt and the installation of a floor. Thankfully we had a written and signed contract that included both of these things and they duly carried out the work without fuss. The architect earned some of his money by being on hand and carrying out inspections. I have to say in this respect he was very good. He made sure the floor was of a decent thickness and questioned and changed their construction when needed.
The things that needed to be changed were:
We ended up with a 5 x 7m space, my man cave. The loft was insulated but not fitted out for electrics or with plasterboard. I will do a separate blog on that one as it was some effort to do that. We had a loft with three windows and one hole in the floor for the stairs when they were installed, again another time with that one.
Once again the lessons from this are get a written and signed contract, get quotes (including more than one architect) and then make sure they do the work they have signed up for. The loft is a great space and it was not long before An was eyeing it up for alternative uses...
Photos to follow.
I do not really have much to compare this with when it comes to the UK. I once bought a set of UPVC double glazing back in 1995, that was 5 windows and 1 door and it cost £1500, the fitting and quality was poor and I paid up front for it. In Belgium we bought 7 aluminium windows, a garage door and a front door. One of those windows is a sliding door that is about 3 metres wide. The whole lot cost 16,000 euros and we paid something like four months after fitting, no deposit or any form of security. It was quite worrying not being asked for any money. They waited until the last few bits were complete before sending the bill. Mind you they did make their money. We also got tax back, it is part of the incentive to become more energy efficient.
The roof, however, was a far more taxing affair to deal with. We had to secure borrowing and to do that we needed to hire a solicitor and go through a broker, it was just like getting a mortgage. More importantly we had to get an architect in to do the plans and give us advice.
We held a meeting once we had identified a suitable architect, he was recommended although I am not sure why. During the meeting we discussed a number of crucial objectives such as: timing of how long it would take, planning permission, fees and overall cost of the project. All of our discussions were utterly pointless, whatever we said it was either ignored or agreed with and later ignored. As an example, I stated that the cost of the project should come in at no more than 25,000 euros and I asked if this was possible. What the architect should have said is no, what he did say was oh yes it will come in at around that price. The architect's fees eventually were about 4,000 euros, this is a ridiculous 20% of the cost of the project. We did not know this at the time and have learnt our lesson, but 9% is a more common figure. The legal costs were around 1500, but that related to the borrowing being arranged. I cannot remember how much the planning permission cost but this was another screw up by our architect.
When our plans were submitted the architect did not take pictures of the surrounding area or highlight that of the estate of around 100 houses, almost 25 had pitched roofs. So amazingly enough the planning authority in Leuven said we could not build our roof as it was not in keeping with the local area and in addition we could not have solar panels (something we were considering). Our neighbour directly across form us, less than 30 metres away has a pitched roof, so why were we being declined? The neighbour next to her had solar panels on her garage roof and the houses in the surrounding area had stacks of them, another strange decision. Anyway I ended up marking up each house on the estate with a pitched roof and then took it to the architect and said just show them that. This he did and we got our permission (still without the solar panels). I must add at this point that when we called into the town hall for advice, the quality would vary depending upon who you spoke to and indeed what time of day it was. It seems to be a common trait that you don't generally get the same answer twice and therefore my instinct is not to trust what I have been told. In fact the best thing to do is to get them to write it down and sign it off, they then backtrack and make sure they have it right!
The next phase was getting the quotes from the builders, again we held a raft of meetings with several builders to outline our requirements. Any quote takes two weeks to produce and bears no resemblance to any discussions that you may have held with the contractor. I have no idea if this is the case with UK builders. In my experience I have known people to be able to estimate there and then not to wait for two weeks. What inevitably happens is they forget what you have discussed and then have to go for another two weeks whilst they re-do the quote. There is a silver lining to this cloud, which I will get to. The quotes varied wildly between each builder and of course each was using the best quality and construction techniques. We discussed them with the architect and he advised us on the various offers. Eventually we chose one, which was around 19,000 euros but did not do everything that we wanted. In essence it would be a shell with no plasterboard or electrics installed. It also did not include the brickwork for the gable ends, we had to get a separate quote for that. More of that later.
The timing was all shot to bits, this was due to weather and workload of the builder as well as the delays with the plans having to be submitted again. The original timeline was for the work to take place in Jul but in the event it was late August. I had taken time off work to be there and for most of the construction I was not there, more delays. The work took around 3 weeks to complete and I had to harass the builder to turn up once the gable ends had gone up. It was like having two large unstable sails on the house and the flat roof had been compromised.
The gables ends took about a week to put up and I humped brick and blocks from the ground up a rather rickety lift and onto the roof, whilst our brickie did the work. We did not benefit financially from that, the price was fixed, something that has both advantages and disadvantages. The good thing is that it is never more unless you significantly change the requirement and even then it is reasonable. It can, however, end up far too much if it has been overestimated. This happened with the tiling in the bathroom which took around half as long as he expected, we got ripped off here and we made our displeasure known. It was an extremely hot August and toiling with these bricks in the sun was quite something. I have to say the view from the top was also quite impressive.
I had to go back to work for the next phase so I missed the joy of seeing it go up. The roof is made of a wooden construction with essentially 4 triangles running the length of the house. The first triangle is the one form the ridge of the roof to the sides of the house, the big one. Two are one each from each side going in maybe a metre. This way you have no supporting structures spanning the main space and getting in the way. The last one was along the ridge and connecting each side together. I have drawn a rather crude diagram below.
Now the thing that most people dread is when the builder starts to deny all knowledge that you had agreed to do a particular bit of work and that it was included in the price. In our case in involved the removal and disposal of the roofing felt and the installation of a floor. Thankfully we had a written and signed contract that included both of these things and they duly carried out the work without fuss. The architect earned some of his money by being on hand and carrying out inspections. I have to say in this respect he was very good. He made sure the floor was of a decent thickness and questioned and changed their construction when needed.
The things that needed to be changed were:
- Insulation in the gables, it needed to be thicker (more cost).
- The floor needed to be thickened up (more cost).
We ended up with a 5 x 7m space, my man cave. The loft was insulated but not fitted out for electrics or with plasterboard. I will do a separate blog on that one as it was some effort to do that. We had a loft with three windows and one hole in the floor for the stairs when they were installed, again another time with that one.
Once again the lessons from this are get a written and signed contract, get quotes (including more than one architect) and then make sure they do the work they have signed up for. The loft is a great space and it was not long before An was eyeing it up for alternative uses...
Photos to follow.
Sunday, 26 May 2013
The Wedding Anniversary
On Friday the 24th May An and I had been married for 5 years, we celebrated by heading to the restaurant where we got engaged and then later had our wedding reception. The Gelofte is a very special if small restaurant located in Aarschot. When I first started coming over to Belgium the price of a meal here was quite reasonable given the excellent quality of the food and service. Of all of the places I have eaten in Belgium, this has to be the best and it easily beats any food I have had in the UK.
With this sort of quality, however, you need to pay the price and now it is somewhat more expensive than it used to be, so much so that we really cannot afford to eat there as often as we would like.
This time round both An and I walked to the restaurant so we could both enjoy a drink. There was a fixed menu which was 45 euros per person, not including any drinks but I wanted to go for something on the main menu which meant paying a bit more. For starters An had a crab salad with apple, cucumber and radish. I had duck liver with pear balls and sauce. The description does not really do it justice. The duck liver was similar to foie gras, but with a consistency that was a little firmer and a lovely baked crust. It was, without any doubt, the best starter I have ever had. I cannot stress how exquisite this was. Our mains were rood baars, (I think this is red snapper but I am not sure) for An and lambs fillet with ratatouille and mustard sauce for me. Again this was very good. For dessert An had strawberries with a rhubarb sauce and special ice cream and I had a Dame Blanche. We had a glass of champagne each, some water and between us 5 glasses of red and white wine. In all it was an experience rather than just a meal out. The cost of the meal was 203 euros for the two of us. There were entrees as well before and after the starter. The first was something similar to prawn crackers but made from squid and quinoa with a mushroom mousse. The second was made with a St Jacobs escallop with beetroot and cauliflower.
The restaurant details can be found at the link here, along with details of the menu (although this has now changed since Friday!)
If ever you happen to be going by then I would strongly recommend you check it out.
With this sort of quality, however, you need to pay the price and now it is somewhat more expensive than it used to be, so much so that we really cannot afford to eat there as often as we would like.
This time round both An and I walked to the restaurant so we could both enjoy a drink. There was a fixed menu which was 45 euros per person, not including any drinks but I wanted to go for something on the main menu which meant paying a bit more. For starters An had a crab salad with apple, cucumber and radish. I had duck liver with pear balls and sauce. The description does not really do it justice. The duck liver was similar to foie gras, but with a consistency that was a little firmer and a lovely baked crust. It was, without any doubt, the best starter I have ever had. I cannot stress how exquisite this was. Our mains were rood baars, (I think this is red snapper but I am not sure) for An and lambs fillet with ratatouille and mustard sauce for me. Again this was very good. For dessert An had strawberries with a rhubarb sauce and special ice cream and I had a Dame Blanche. We had a glass of champagne each, some water and between us 5 glasses of red and white wine. In all it was an experience rather than just a meal out. The cost of the meal was 203 euros for the two of us. There were entrees as well before and after the starter. The first was something similar to prawn crackers but made from squid and quinoa with a mushroom mousse. The second was made with a St Jacobs escallop with beetroot and cauliflower.
The restaurant details can be found at the link here, along with details of the menu (although this has now changed since Friday!)
If ever you happen to be going by then I would strongly recommend you check it out.
Friday, 24 May 2013
Trenches
After coming back from my tour in Iraq I was lucky enough to have about two months of leave, which was great. I spent some of it getting fit, whilst at the same time eating lots of leftover wedding cake. It was around mid Feb when I returned and I was given the project of installing drainage in our garden. An had completely redesigned the garden and part of this involved the removal of the old square lawn and its replacement with a new round lawn. I am not a gardener and although I like things to look nice, I have no clue about plants and colours and stuff. I do, however, know about money and how much things cost and my Northern background makes me acutely aware of how expensive things are and I am forever questioning why we need to change things. Needless to say I lost the argument, partly as I was not there to argue in the first place, I was being rocketed in Iraq!
As part of the project we had a problem with out garden, it was wet, very wet. In fact it would flood quite regularly but not to the point where damage was caused. I turned to the trusty internet and sought out some solutions to our problem. I am not particularly good at DIY but I will have a go and some things I find easier than others. There were two solutions that presented themselves, one was to dig a sink hole where the water could collect and drain away and the other was to dig a series or trenches and construct drainage. The first solution was no good as we were on a flat piece of land and as far as I could tell water does not generally flow uphill. Our solution would have to involve something rather more technical.
I researched the net and discovered that a recommended way to install drainage was to dig trenches about 800mm deep in a so called fishbone arrangement. The construction involved digging out the trench, laying some base gravel, laying a coconut covered plastic pipe and then covering that with more gravel. The whole lot was wrapped in anti-weed matting and it was meant to gradually slope down to the direction where you wanted the water to accumulate. Each section of trench would drain 2.5m either side and in our case we had one main diagonal trench going across the garden and then subsidiary trenches to cover the 2.5m areas missed by the main. In all I dug around 40m of trenches in four sections.
The first stage was to remove the old grass, this was done in shovel sized sections and then plonked onto a wheelbarrow and shipped to the front of the house through the garage. They were then neatly and I really mean neatly packed into a large container. The container man was quite surprised at how well packed our container was when he came to collect it. We also threw bricks and a number of other bits in there that we unearthed. I say we, it was only me doing the digging! It was back breaking work and I am not used to labour, I work in an office, in the comfort and the dry of a heated building.
Our soil is basically clay and it rained. I had some idea of how the soldiers in the trenches must have felt as I toiled in sodden conditions where it felt at times that I was just moving the clay around and not getting very far. I quickly gave up on the idea that the trench should slope gradually, I am not an engineer and I had more chance of nailing jelly to the ceiling than I had of getting a decent slope sorted out. I have no idea what the previous owners did but I found a rather amazing amount of rubble and crap buried in the garden. I jarred my shoulder and legs countless times on rocks and slabs of concrete as I battered away. I had to remove the footpath as well, these were slabs of paving which I introduced to my friend Mr Sledge the hammer.
Once I had the trenches dug I had to get the gravel, which was delivered in batches. We worked out, I think, it was 4 tonnes of gravel were needed to fill the trenches, all of this had to be hand carted through the garage in a wheel barrow and then deposited into the trench. An managed to over order the gravel and we were left with about a ton at the front of the house. If this would have been the North East of England you would be beating people off with broken beer bottles but no, no one was interested in helping themselves. We ended up getting a friend to collect it for free, he was happy to help us out.
I lined the trenches with anti-weed matting and then laid a base of gravel and then the coconut covered piping. After that I topped up the gravel and then finished by wrapping the weed matting over the top and then putting some soil on top. I did not do any clever linking of pipes, measuring of slopes and other such crap. Water is amazing stuff which cannot escape the effects of gravity and just collects at the lowest point. Now the tricky bit was how do I get the water out of the trenches once it has collected there? Well I dug a hole big enough to put a rain vat inside. This is easier said than done. I felt like a Viet Cong starting out on my tunnels as I slopped around in the clay mud trying to scoop out the hole, which of course was filing with water. I drilled out some large holes in the rain vat and then covered them with weed matting, the idea being to stop the mud from getting in. It later transpired that I needed a lot more holes as the damn thing would end up floating out of the hole and need resetting several times.
We now had a series of trenches and pipes which led to a rain vat that was sunk into the ground, the next challenge was to get the water out and dispose of it. Luckily on the other side of our fence is a main drain and in fact this is where all of the excess run off goes for the whole street. I rigged up an automatic float pump to activate and pump out the rain vat into the main drain. It is one of the more satisfying projects as the drainage is extremely effective and our garden is so much better for it.
I have to say once I had completed the task and the new circular lawn was laid, An's next question was 'can we move the gate half a metre to the left?' I responded with disbelief that the work involved to do this would probably mean removing the fence at the back and that was no easy task. To date we have not changed this, I think it is a case of An biding her time before she asks that one again!
The lawn was laid down by some professionals who also shipped in a load of topsoil as well. Despite my protests at costs and inconvenience I do think An has done an amazing job and our garden is full of a variety of plants and more importantly birds too. I like to watch them as I have my breakfast and I do take charge of making sure they are fed. An does not do birds, the feeding bit anyway. We have had them nesting in boxes that we fitted and now we have them in the hedge too. I never thought I would be so fascinated by watching them interact. Small pleasures.
As part of the project we had a problem with out garden, it was wet, very wet. In fact it would flood quite regularly but not to the point where damage was caused. I turned to the trusty internet and sought out some solutions to our problem. I am not particularly good at DIY but I will have a go and some things I find easier than others. There were two solutions that presented themselves, one was to dig a sink hole where the water could collect and drain away and the other was to dig a series or trenches and construct drainage. The first solution was no good as we were on a flat piece of land and as far as I could tell water does not generally flow uphill. Our solution would have to involve something rather more technical.
I researched the net and discovered that a recommended way to install drainage was to dig trenches about 800mm deep in a so called fishbone arrangement. The construction involved digging out the trench, laying some base gravel, laying a coconut covered plastic pipe and then covering that with more gravel. The whole lot was wrapped in anti-weed matting and it was meant to gradually slope down to the direction where you wanted the water to accumulate. Each section of trench would drain 2.5m either side and in our case we had one main diagonal trench going across the garden and then subsidiary trenches to cover the 2.5m areas missed by the main. In all I dug around 40m of trenches in four sections.
The first stage was to remove the old grass, this was done in shovel sized sections and then plonked onto a wheelbarrow and shipped to the front of the house through the garage. They were then neatly and I really mean neatly packed into a large container. The container man was quite surprised at how well packed our container was when he came to collect it. We also threw bricks and a number of other bits in there that we unearthed. I say we, it was only me doing the digging! It was back breaking work and I am not used to labour, I work in an office, in the comfort and the dry of a heated building.
Our soil is basically clay and it rained. I had some idea of how the soldiers in the trenches must have felt as I toiled in sodden conditions where it felt at times that I was just moving the clay around and not getting very far. I quickly gave up on the idea that the trench should slope gradually, I am not an engineer and I had more chance of nailing jelly to the ceiling than I had of getting a decent slope sorted out. I have no idea what the previous owners did but I found a rather amazing amount of rubble and crap buried in the garden. I jarred my shoulder and legs countless times on rocks and slabs of concrete as I battered away. I had to remove the footpath as well, these were slabs of paving which I introduced to my friend Mr Sledge the hammer.
Once I had the trenches dug I had to get the gravel, which was delivered in batches. We worked out, I think, it was 4 tonnes of gravel were needed to fill the trenches, all of this had to be hand carted through the garage in a wheel barrow and then deposited into the trench. An managed to over order the gravel and we were left with about a ton at the front of the house. If this would have been the North East of England you would be beating people off with broken beer bottles but no, no one was interested in helping themselves. We ended up getting a friend to collect it for free, he was happy to help us out.
I lined the trenches with anti-weed matting and then laid a base of gravel and then the coconut covered piping. After that I topped up the gravel and then finished by wrapping the weed matting over the top and then putting some soil on top. I did not do any clever linking of pipes, measuring of slopes and other such crap. Water is amazing stuff which cannot escape the effects of gravity and just collects at the lowest point. Now the tricky bit was how do I get the water out of the trenches once it has collected there? Well I dug a hole big enough to put a rain vat inside. This is easier said than done. I felt like a Viet Cong starting out on my tunnels as I slopped around in the clay mud trying to scoop out the hole, which of course was filing with water. I drilled out some large holes in the rain vat and then covered them with weed matting, the idea being to stop the mud from getting in. It later transpired that I needed a lot more holes as the damn thing would end up floating out of the hole and need resetting several times.
We now had a series of trenches and pipes which led to a rain vat that was sunk into the ground, the next challenge was to get the water out and dispose of it. Luckily on the other side of our fence is a main drain and in fact this is where all of the excess run off goes for the whole street. I rigged up an automatic float pump to activate and pump out the rain vat into the main drain. It is one of the more satisfying projects as the drainage is extremely effective and our garden is so much better for it.
I have to say once I had completed the task and the new circular lawn was laid, An's next question was 'can we move the gate half a metre to the left?' I responded with disbelief that the work involved to do this would probably mean removing the fence at the back and that was no easy task. To date we have not changed this, I think it is a case of An biding her time before she asks that one again!
The lawn was laid down by some professionals who also shipped in a load of topsoil as well. Despite my protests at costs and inconvenience I do think An has done an amazing job and our garden is full of a variety of plants and more importantly birds too. I like to watch them as I have my breakfast and I do take charge of making sure they are fed. An does not do birds, the feeding bit anyway. We have had them nesting in boxes that we fitted and now we have them in the hedge too. I never thought I would be so fascinated by watching them interact. Small pleasures.
Monday, 20 May 2013
Save Our Souls - It's a Question of Diction
I started to learn Dutch not long after meeting An, the main purpose being able to take part in discussions and to be able to survive when out and about. Now considering that I have been learning on and off for around almost 8 years, you would think I would be reasonably proficient. I have to say that I am not as swept up as I would like to be and part of that is down to not dedicating time to learning and then putting it into use.
I started off by learning the sounds of the various combinations of letters such as ij and ei. Now I won't go into detail because it would put you off but communication is all about saying the right thing and it sounding correct, the order of the words is not necessarily important. It is nice but it is icing on the cake so to speak. An speaks very good English, but if I was to stop and correct the grammar of what she is saying then we would not get very far, the key point is that I know what she means even if it is a bit jumbled at times.
Confidence is also very important. A friend of mine said to me that I should say whatever I want in Dutch and then revert to English to fill the gaps, a kind of hybrid. At first, when I was learning, I only wanted to say things if they were correct and therefore I would not try, that phase has passed.
Another thing, which takes a bit of getting used to is to be in a completely alien environment where everyone is talking to each other and you cannot understand either because of the speed of speech or the words they are using. I was at a private party one evening and two blokes came up to me and said something which was clearly very amusing to them but which I did not understand at all. I noticed that some of the other guests looked uncomfortable and An was not around to translate. The thing is, there was no impact on me whatsoever, what I did understand is that they were both extremely rude and that was from body language alone. Now this really reinforced what most people in that situation must think and that is, well because I don't understand they must be talking about me and not knowing is bothering me. Even though An's English is very good I have noticed that she feels quite isolated when in similar situations England. This phase also passes, people are not necessarily talking about you because you cannot understand what they are saying. It is very tiring to concentrate for so long and I have not even begun to deal with accents!
An has asked me if I can pick out the differences in accents but I am afraid that I can only distinguish between Flemish and Dutch speakers, it sounds like the latter is drowning when they speak! In fact my view on the difference is that Flemish is more refined and softly spoken. I have been told that I have an no Dutch accent, which is nice but then people expect you to be fluent so it can be a bit of a disadvantage. The accent I put down to learning the sounds of the combinations of letters at the start.
People say that Dutch must be such a difficult language to learn, I suppose the answer to that is no language is that difficult it is just that you reach your limits rather quicker and find yourself searching for the right words. I hit the buffers more often than I would like. I did go through a phase of learning one to one with a teacher from Limburg, my father-in-law laughed when I told him, he told me that their accent was one of the stranger ones! Anyway, when learning grammar from my Limburg teacher, it became obvious how much I took English for granted. We have more or less the same rules but my God, try explaining them! I tended to learn favourite sayings and therefore stick to what I knew. I worked through the entire book and my teacher was quite pleased, although I think her expectations of my progress did not reflect reality.
I have had to learn by experience and so when we had the roof put on our house I learnt the language associated with this building project, the same could be said for the windows, getting work done on the car and, of course, ordering beer and food in cafes.
An does not speak much Dutch when talking to me and so I am missing out a bit here, but really this is a matter of convenience and speed. It would take too long to get things done. One of the things, and I am getting better, is learning the subtle differences between different words for example vlees and fles, the first is meat and the second is a bottle. The v and f are similar sounding, however, the double e is a longer sound and the emphasis is slightly different. It is also worth pointing out that the letter e sounds like the a in Jay not e as it meet. You also have to be careful when you spell out words as the i in Dutch sounds like e in English! You do get over these when people keep passing you a plate of meat instead of a bottle of water! A lot of it is just saying it with confidence. Now, a word of warning, the subtle wordplay of English does not really work even if you are chatting to people whose English is excellent. The same must apply in reverse and the amount of times when I have been told a joke and just looked blankly must have been a bit off-putting. Combine that with my poor hearing and it can be a challenge.
One evening An and I were watching a documentary on the Titanic and at that particular moment it was concerning the distress signal. They were explaining that it used to be CQD, referred to as Come Quickly Distress, but that they had recently introduced the signal SOS, Save Our Souls. An asked me what SOS meant and naturally I replied Save Our Souls. She was almost shocked and said that it could not possibly mean that, so I repeated it and said no, really Save Our Souls. I grabbed the computer and quickly searched Google to prove my point, she really did not believe me. Google duly provided the answer at which point she said, oh, I thought you said save arseholes... I thought that would be a novel way of calling Thunderbirds into action, now, where are these arseholes who need saving?
The point though was a fair one, as you get tired your brain interprets what you think you hear and finds the best match. I normally start out ok but in a social context as the beer flows it gets more difficult to follow the theme. It also helps if you have been part of the story. I find it easier to chat about something if I know where the conversation is going. I also find it easier to chat to pensioners as they tend to speak more slowly and clearly.
I know I must be getting indoctrinated because I now dream in Dutch, the thing is I suppose all of the words are in there somewhere and my subconscious must be able to put them together in the right order without worrying about whether it is right or not.
The most important words I have learnt are: Ik ben en engelsman, ik spreek en beetje Nederlands, kunt u spreek langzaam alstublieft. I am not sure about the spelling of those but in essence it is: I am an Englishman, I speak a little Dutch, can you speak slowly please? It also gives me more time to think and understand. I also know how to get someone to repeat themselves in two different ways!
I think I will be learning until the day I pass on, I suppose that is not just limited to languages!
I started off by learning the sounds of the various combinations of letters such as ij and ei. Now I won't go into detail because it would put you off but communication is all about saying the right thing and it sounding correct, the order of the words is not necessarily important. It is nice but it is icing on the cake so to speak. An speaks very good English, but if I was to stop and correct the grammar of what she is saying then we would not get very far, the key point is that I know what she means even if it is a bit jumbled at times.
Confidence is also very important. A friend of mine said to me that I should say whatever I want in Dutch and then revert to English to fill the gaps, a kind of hybrid. At first, when I was learning, I only wanted to say things if they were correct and therefore I would not try, that phase has passed.
Another thing, which takes a bit of getting used to is to be in a completely alien environment where everyone is talking to each other and you cannot understand either because of the speed of speech or the words they are using. I was at a private party one evening and two blokes came up to me and said something which was clearly very amusing to them but which I did not understand at all. I noticed that some of the other guests looked uncomfortable and An was not around to translate. The thing is, there was no impact on me whatsoever, what I did understand is that they were both extremely rude and that was from body language alone. Now this really reinforced what most people in that situation must think and that is, well because I don't understand they must be talking about me and not knowing is bothering me. Even though An's English is very good I have noticed that she feels quite isolated when in similar situations England. This phase also passes, people are not necessarily talking about you because you cannot understand what they are saying. It is very tiring to concentrate for so long and I have not even begun to deal with accents!
An has asked me if I can pick out the differences in accents but I am afraid that I can only distinguish between Flemish and Dutch speakers, it sounds like the latter is drowning when they speak! In fact my view on the difference is that Flemish is more refined and softly spoken. I have been told that I have an no Dutch accent, which is nice but then people expect you to be fluent so it can be a bit of a disadvantage. The accent I put down to learning the sounds of the combinations of letters at the start.
People say that Dutch must be such a difficult language to learn, I suppose the answer to that is no language is that difficult it is just that you reach your limits rather quicker and find yourself searching for the right words. I hit the buffers more often than I would like. I did go through a phase of learning one to one with a teacher from Limburg, my father-in-law laughed when I told him, he told me that their accent was one of the stranger ones! Anyway, when learning grammar from my Limburg teacher, it became obvious how much I took English for granted. We have more or less the same rules but my God, try explaining them! I tended to learn favourite sayings and therefore stick to what I knew. I worked through the entire book and my teacher was quite pleased, although I think her expectations of my progress did not reflect reality.
I have had to learn by experience and so when we had the roof put on our house I learnt the language associated with this building project, the same could be said for the windows, getting work done on the car and, of course, ordering beer and food in cafes.
An does not speak much Dutch when talking to me and so I am missing out a bit here, but really this is a matter of convenience and speed. It would take too long to get things done. One of the things, and I am getting better, is learning the subtle differences between different words for example vlees and fles, the first is meat and the second is a bottle. The v and f are similar sounding, however, the double e is a longer sound and the emphasis is slightly different. It is also worth pointing out that the letter e sounds like the a in Jay not e as it meet. You also have to be careful when you spell out words as the i in Dutch sounds like e in English! You do get over these when people keep passing you a plate of meat instead of a bottle of water! A lot of it is just saying it with confidence. Now, a word of warning, the subtle wordplay of English does not really work even if you are chatting to people whose English is excellent. The same must apply in reverse and the amount of times when I have been told a joke and just looked blankly must have been a bit off-putting. Combine that with my poor hearing and it can be a challenge.
One evening An and I were watching a documentary on the Titanic and at that particular moment it was concerning the distress signal. They were explaining that it used to be CQD, referred to as Come Quickly Distress, but that they had recently introduced the signal SOS, Save Our Souls. An asked me what SOS meant and naturally I replied Save Our Souls. She was almost shocked and said that it could not possibly mean that, so I repeated it and said no, really Save Our Souls. I grabbed the computer and quickly searched Google to prove my point, she really did not believe me. Google duly provided the answer at which point she said, oh, I thought you said save arseholes... I thought that would be a novel way of calling Thunderbirds into action, now, where are these arseholes who need saving?
The point though was a fair one, as you get tired your brain interprets what you think you hear and finds the best match. I normally start out ok but in a social context as the beer flows it gets more difficult to follow the theme. It also helps if you have been part of the story. I find it easier to chat about something if I know where the conversation is going. I also find it easier to chat to pensioners as they tend to speak more slowly and clearly.
I know I must be getting indoctrinated because I now dream in Dutch, the thing is I suppose all of the words are in there somewhere and my subconscious must be able to put them together in the right order without worrying about whether it is right or not.
The most important words I have learnt are: Ik ben en engelsman, ik spreek en beetje Nederlands, kunt u spreek langzaam alstublieft. I am not sure about the spelling of those but in essence it is: I am an Englishman, I speak a little Dutch, can you speak slowly please? It also gives me more time to think and understand. I also know how to get someone to repeat themselves in two different ways!
I think I will be learning until the day I pass on, I suppose that is not just limited to languages!
The Belgian Rivera
The short strip of coastline that runs from De Panne on the French Belgian border to Knokke-Heist on the Dutch Belgian border is what I refer to as the Belgian Rivera. The coast itself is remarkably plain when you consider the variations that you get round the UK.
The beaches are relatively narrow sandy strips with low level dunes. In the built up areas it is like any other seaside town. In hot weather and during the holiday season they flock to the coast and populate the many cafes on the sea front. I have spent time in Knokke, which is the posh bit where the well off seem to parade their cars and the not so posh bit down in Nieuwport. I will probably get some abuse for saying that.
The one thing you do need to look out for is the bicycles and what I can best describe as go-carts for adults. These go-carts can be peddled by anything up to 8 adults so they can go fast when they want to. Anyway, the promenade is mobbed by these go-carts and bicycles and they are even more ruthless than they are in the towns and cities. I must add that inland there is some beautiful canals and villages that you can cycle to. You will be surprised how far you will end up cycling. An and I have had some interesting times cycling round including through the middle of the night, with the lights down on one bike and not really sure which way we needed to go. It was a mini-adventure.
Our first holiday after we met was a week in Nieuwport, it was January and the snow had come down quite heavily, on the radio they recommended that people should stay at home. Not us, we went to Bruges, but then the roads were quiet. I remember coming up to some traffic lights and they changed, despite going quite slowly I failed to stop as the ABS on my car juddered it to a halt passed the stop line. An said to me, I hope you don't get a fine for going through a red light! I thought well apart from it being British plates and therefore unlikely, there was not a lot else I could have done to stop the car!
Getting back into the apartment was quite interesting as the car park was under the building and the ramp going in was iced up. I had to open the door and just go for it as there was no stopping once I was on the slope.
We celebrated New Year and the first of many confusing texts sent over the following years as I would send my best to friends in the UK whilst they had to wait another hour before the New Year came. This time was particularly odd because we went out to have some champagne on the beach in the middle of the night. we went out well before midnight, which was just as well, we came back in just as quickly because it was bloody freezing. Anyway we sent our Happy New year messages earlier still and got some confused replies back asking why we hand sent them just after 10pm! We finished that champagne in the room. Anyway at midnight all hell broke loose on the beach with fireworks being set off all over the place, good job we came back otherwise it would have been something like the opening salvos of the battle of El Alamain.
I have fond memories of the snow and ice on that particular trip, I took photos of the snow lying on the beach, which I thought was quite rare. An and I had been together for just 3 months at that point.
The trip was even more memorable for another reason, I had started the holiday by spending time with my brother in Denmark, which involved getting a ferry from Harwich to Esbjerg and then driving up to Hobro. I was driving a silver Jaguar X-Type four wheel drive 2.5V6 petrol car. It shifted to say the least. Anyway, after having Christmas in Denmark I set out overland driving through Denmark, Germany, the Netherlands and then to Belgium. There was a light dusting of snow and so I was driving very carefully and even dropped right down to about 40mph, it was going to be a long night. The rest of the motorists were belting past me, but then, unbeknown to me, winter tyres are mandated in Germany and I had Summer tyres on mine.
Not long after I got across the German border I was driving along and the car started to slide towards the hard shoulder, I kind of froze, not wishing to put the brakes on. I also took my foot off the throttle and turned the wheels in the opposite lock towards the central reservation. At this point when the car kept sliding I decided that I would apply a little power, not knowing what else to do, the car then spun completely 180 degrees and was facing the wrong direction! I could see the oncoming traffic but now I was sliding towards the barrier. I decided to turn the opposite lock on and apply even less power, I then spun 90 degrees and was heading straight for the central reservation. At this point I gave up and resigned myself to either being hit, hitting the barrier or ending up in a ditch. I therefore decided to apply the brakes and, amazingly, they slowed the car enough for me to turn the wheel the other way and apply even less power. This time I ended up almost straight in the legal direction of travel and rolling slowly off the carriageway and onto the extra wide hard shoulder. I did not stop, I allowed myself to safely continue rolling at an even slower speed and re-join the carriageway. It all happened so quickly and my heart was thumping, it took a while to get my nails out of the steering wheel!
I am not sure what was scarier, the fact that I did not know where I was and could have crashed or that I still had a considerable distance to go. Looking back on it now I realise that winter tyres are a must really. The other thing is that by applying power it does keep you going as long as you have not radically altered the steering. I am sure there will be people laughing asking how I managed to lose control of a four wheel drive on barely any snow at all. The German cars kept thundering past as well.
Anyway that was the start of my holiday that finished with both of us going to the coast. I think I arrived at around 2am in Aarschot, much relieved and in need of a cup of tea!
The beaches are relatively narrow sandy strips with low level dunes. In the built up areas it is like any other seaside town. In hot weather and during the holiday season they flock to the coast and populate the many cafes on the sea front. I have spent time in Knokke, which is the posh bit where the well off seem to parade their cars and the not so posh bit down in Nieuwport. I will probably get some abuse for saying that.
The one thing you do need to look out for is the bicycles and what I can best describe as go-carts for adults. These go-carts can be peddled by anything up to 8 adults so they can go fast when they want to. Anyway, the promenade is mobbed by these go-carts and bicycles and they are even more ruthless than they are in the towns and cities. I must add that inland there is some beautiful canals and villages that you can cycle to. You will be surprised how far you will end up cycling. An and I have had some interesting times cycling round including through the middle of the night, with the lights down on one bike and not really sure which way we needed to go. It was a mini-adventure.
Our first holiday after we met was a week in Nieuwport, it was January and the snow had come down quite heavily, on the radio they recommended that people should stay at home. Not us, we went to Bruges, but then the roads were quiet. I remember coming up to some traffic lights and they changed, despite going quite slowly I failed to stop as the ABS on my car juddered it to a halt passed the stop line. An said to me, I hope you don't get a fine for going through a red light! I thought well apart from it being British plates and therefore unlikely, there was not a lot else I could have done to stop the car!
Getting back into the apartment was quite interesting as the car park was under the building and the ramp going in was iced up. I had to open the door and just go for it as there was no stopping once I was on the slope.
We celebrated New Year and the first of many confusing texts sent over the following years as I would send my best to friends in the UK whilst they had to wait another hour before the New Year came. This time was particularly odd because we went out to have some champagne on the beach in the middle of the night. we went out well before midnight, which was just as well, we came back in just as quickly because it was bloody freezing. Anyway we sent our Happy New year messages earlier still and got some confused replies back asking why we hand sent them just after 10pm! We finished that champagne in the room. Anyway at midnight all hell broke loose on the beach with fireworks being set off all over the place, good job we came back otherwise it would have been something like the opening salvos of the battle of El Alamain.
I have fond memories of the snow and ice on that particular trip, I took photos of the snow lying on the beach, which I thought was quite rare. An and I had been together for just 3 months at that point.
The trip was even more memorable for another reason, I had started the holiday by spending time with my brother in Denmark, which involved getting a ferry from Harwich to Esbjerg and then driving up to Hobro. I was driving a silver Jaguar X-Type four wheel drive 2.5V6 petrol car. It shifted to say the least. Anyway, after having Christmas in Denmark I set out overland driving through Denmark, Germany, the Netherlands and then to Belgium. There was a light dusting of snow and so I was driving very carefully and even dropped right down to about 40mph, it was going to be a long night. The rest of the motorists were belting past me, but then, unbeknown to me, winter tyres are mandated in Germany and I had Summer tyres on mine.
Not long after I got across the German border I was driving along and the car started to slide towards the hard shoulder, I kind of froze, not wishing to put the brakes on. I also took my foot off the throttle and turned the wheels in the opposite lock towards the central reservation. At this point when the car kept sliding I decided that I would apply a little power, not knowing what else to do, the car then spun completely 180 degrees and was facing the wrong direction! I could see the oncoming traffic but now I was sliding towards the barrier. I decided to turn the opposite lock on and apply even less power, I then spun 90 degrees and was heading straight for the central reservation. At this point I gave up and resigned myself to either being hit, hitting the barrier or ending up in a ditch. I therefore decided to apply the brakes and, amazingly, they slowed the car enough for me to turn the wheel the other way and apply even less power. This time I ended up almost straight in the legal direction of travel and rolling slowly off the carriageway and onto the extra wide hard shoulder. I did not stop, I allowed myself to safely continue rolling at an even slower speed and re-join the carriageway. It all happened so quickly and my heart was thumping, it took a while to get my nails out of the steering wheel!
I am not sure what was scarier, the fact that I did not know where I was and could have crashed or that I still had a considerable distance to go. Looking back on it now I realise that winter tyres are a must really. The other thing is that by applying power it does keep you going as long as you have not radically altered the steering. I am sure there will be people laughing asking how I managed to lose control of a four wheel drive on barely any snow at all. The German cars kept thundering past as well.
Anyway that was the start of my holiday that finished with both of us going to the coast. I think I arrived at around 2am in Aarschot, much relieved and in need of a cup of tea!
Sunday, 12 May 2013
Yorkshire Puddings
I remember, when I was little, every Sunday we would walk down to my Granddad's house for Sunday dinner. Having Sunday dinner was a tradition which involved the gathering of our family to have a roast dinner. The meat varied, the usual vegetables were potatoes, peas, carrots, butter beans, cauliflower, turnip, cabbage and Brussel sprouts. How could I forget, the Yorkshire puddings too! The gravy was always lovely and the accompanying sauce would match the meat, apple sauce with pork, mint with lamb and horseradish with beef. Sometimes we would have dripping and bread or be able to scoop out the bone marrow from the leftover lamb bones. My Granddad or uncle would drink the cabbage water, yuk.
Glen and I would be out in either the large garden or the alley way playing football. If we were lucky our Uncle Peter would be there to show us his ball skills and run rings round us. Of the three of us I was the most useless at football. I spent most of my time chasing a ball across the main road at the bottom of the alley way, this was on a hill so it was good exercise. We also used to climb the trees and make bows and arrows as well, Glen once managed to spear me with home made javelin, thankfully it did not break the skin. We would often be off to casualty after standing on a plank with a rusty nail in it, getting a tetanus jab was a regular event.
Anyway the usual cry of 'oh, the potatoes are burning!' would follow the detection of that unmistakable aroma emanating from the kitchen. The rescue attempt would follow and sometimes you could taste the charcoal other times it was fine. Glen would always want whole potatoes even when the mashed season was upon us. The Yorkshires were one of the favourite parts of the meal, these are baked puddings made by mixing milk, eggs and plain four and then baking in an extremely hot oven. In fact the smoke coming from the oven looked scary but it was necessary to get the lard that hot. Yes, lard, not oil. I don't know if you can even get lard anymore! Apart from the sauce that went with the meat, there was nothing fancy about the preparation no special way to prepare the veg or flavour the meat and it is here in the main, where we differ from the Belgian side of things. I am not saying all households have 'plain' food but we did and it tasted great. The UK culinary tastes are now so broad it would seem that the trend is that we must do something different. We take in the best we can find from the rest of the world, a walk down the supermarket aisles will confirm the cosmopolitan tastes we have.
I have often had the debate with An when she seems keen to flavour everything from the meat down to the humble carrots, 'they need to have a taste!', she says, they do, they taste like carrots! The best way I can demonstrate the difference in the approach to food is when we compare our Christmas dinner. Typically we have, carrots with onion, butter, parsley, thyme, bay leaves and salt. That was just one vegetable side dish of carrots! There is also warm pear halves, freshly made cranberry sauce made with port, chicory (with butter, salt and pepper, simple compared to the carrots). Maybe I am just very lucky and have a wonderful wife who goes the extra mile to make the food more than just a meal, an experience.
I have had mixed success at introducing Yorkshire puddings and this is down to my inability to make them. I am not sure whether I get the balance of flour, milk and eggs wrong, if I make the batter too runny or whether it is just the oven that is not hot enough. We have often had very flat and solid biscuit looking things which is no real advert for this wonderful thing. I basically have to wait until my mother comes over before I get a decent Yorkshire pudding. I prefer stodgy gravy absorbent ones, not the airy mushroom shaped ones. I have also introduced butter beans, which were not welcomed, cranberry sauce (out of a jar), which An puts on cheese sandwiches and Christmas pudding, which sends everyone off to sleep when they have a mouthful. Curries have been a hit, but then that is never a surprise. Crackers, both the pulling variety and the ones that go with cheese have also been warmly welcomed. They don't really do crackers with cheese. They do, however, do cheese and there is a great shop in Leuven called Elsen , which you must visit if you are around.
I have managed to go to a few places in this blog but the main purpose was to compare the typical roast in the UK to Belgium. Believe it or not they don't do crackling here, you have to ask, in code, with a butcher who is in the know. Mind you some people would not see the attraction in eating pigskin, slashed, with salt rubbed in and is baked until crispy. I can understand why you might get put off. But then they eat horse here and also snails, so horses for courses, if you forgive the pun.
Getting back to Sunday dinners at my Granddad's house, he used to come in from the social club, put his feet up and watch the football or snooker. Occasionally there would be a western or war film on in the afternoon. At some point around 2pm we would have dinner, in the early years Glen and I had to eat in the kitchen as there was not enough room on the main table. My uncle was always very fast at eating his dinner. Whenever I went to get the salt before anyone else, my stepdad would stab my hand with a fork, a subtle way of saying let others go first. There was normally a break between the main meal and dessert. Dessert would range from Jamaica cake to apple crumble with custard. The first out of a packet and the second home made. My Auntie would then make cheese and fruit scones and an apple pie for tea, Glen and I used to ask for the apple peel to eat whilst we watched her do the baking.
I occasionally make apple crumbles here, which are appreciated. I also make scones, shortbread and other things. I have to say nothing can ever replace that taste of a roast dinner, which my mam comes over and makes every now and again, she also does a fantastic lasagne.
Before I close this one off I must tell you about the time An asked what I would like for tea when I came home. I said I fancied breaded plaice with mashed potatoes and peas. Now this, back home, is a case of banging into the oven a frozen breaded plaice, heating up the peas in a microwave and boiling a few potatoes (the most time consuming aspect). An on the other hand bought fresh plaice, floured and flavoured it and covered in breadcrumbs. With the peas she got frozen and puréed them, it was like concentrated mushy peas. Finally she bought some pre-made mash, cheating so to speak, but then she got them from the equivalent of Marks and Spencer's. The meal was lovely, but it shows that the tendency, in our house at least, is to go for fresh. Tinned and ready meals are almost never used.
Glen and I would be out in either the large garden or the alley way playing football. If we were lucky our Uncle Peter would be there to show us his ball skills and run rings round us. Of the three of us I was the most useless at football. I spent most of my time chasing a ball across the main road at the bottom of the alley way, this was on a hill so it was good exercise. We also used to climb the trees and make bows and arrows as well, Glen once managed to spear me with home made javelin, thankfully it did not break the skin. We would often be off to casualty after standing on a plank with a rusty nail in it, getting a tetanus jab was a regular event.
Anyway the usual cry of 'oh, the potatoes are burning!' would follow the detection of that unmistakable aroma emanating from the kitchen. The rescue attempt would follow and sometimes you could taste the charcoal other times it was fine. Glen would always want whole potatoes even when the mashed season was upon us. The Yorkshires were one of the favourite parts of the meal, these are baked puddings made by mixing milk, eggs and plain four and then baking in an extremely hot oven. In fact the smoke coming from the oven looked scary but it was necessary to get the lard that hot. Yes, lard, not oil. I don't know if you can even get lard anymore! Apart from the sauce that went with the meat, there was nothing fancy about the preparation no special way to prepare the veg or flavour the meat and it is here in the main, where we differ from the Belgian side of things. I am not saying all households have 'plain' food but we did and it tasted great. The UK culinary tastes are now so broad it would seem that the trend is that we must do something different. We take in the best we can find from the rest of the world, a walk down the supermarket aisles will confirm the cosmopolitan tastes we have.
I have often had the debate with An when she seems keen to flavour everything from the meat down to the humble carrots, 'they need to have a taste!', she says, they do, they taste like carrots! The best way I can demonstrate the difference in the approach to food is when we compare our Christmas dinner. Typically we have, carrots with onion, butter, parsley, thyme, bay leaves and salt. That was just one vegetable side dish of carrots! There is also warm pear halves, freshly made cranberry sauce made with port, chicory (with butter, salt and pepper, simple compared to the carrots). Maybe I am just very lucky and have a wonderful wife who goes the extra mile to make the food more than just a meal, an experience.
I have had mixed success at introducing Yorkshire puddings and this is down to my inability to make them. I am not sure whether I get the balance of flour, milk and eggs wrong, if I make the batter too runny or whether it is just the oven that is not hot enough. We have often had very flat and solid biscuit looking things which is no real advert for this wonderful thing. I basically have to wait until my mother comes over before I get a decent Yorkshire pudding. I prefer stodgy gravy absorbent ones, not the airy mushroom shaped ones. I have also introduced butter beans, which were not welcomed, cranberry sauce (out of a jar), which An puts on cheese sandwiches and Christmas pudding, which sends everyone off to sleep when they have a mouthful. Curries have been a hit, but then that is never a surprise. Crackers, both the pulling variety and the ones that go with cheese have also been warmly welcomed. They don't really do crackers with cheese. They do, however, do cheese and there is a great shop in Leuven called Elsen , which you must visit if you are around.
I have managed to go to a few places in this blog but the main purpose was to compare the typical roast in the UK to Belgium. Believe it or not they don't do crackling here, you have to ask, in code, with a butcher who is in the know. Mind you some people would not see the attraction in eating pigskin, slashed, with salt rubbed in and is baked until crispy. I can understand why you might get put off. But then they eat horse here and also snails, so horses for courses, if you forgive the pun.
Getting back to Sunday dinners at my Granddad's house, he used to come in from the social club, put his feet up and watch the football or snooker. Occasionally there would be a western or war film on in the afternoon. At some point around 2pm we would have dinner, in the early years Glen and I had to eat in the kitchen as there was not enough room on the main table. My uncle was always very fast at eating his dinner. Whenever I went to get the salt before anyone else, my stepdad would stab my hand with a fork, a subtle way of saying let others go first. There was normally a break between the main meal and dessert. Dessert would range from Jamaica cake to apple crumble with custard. The first out of a packet and the second home made. My Auntie would then make cheese and fruit scones and an apple pie for tea, Glen and I used to ask for the apple peel to eat whilst we watched her do the baking.
I occasionally make apple crumbles here, which are appreciated. I also make scones, shortbread and other things. I have to say nothing can ever replace that taste of a roast dinner, which my mam comes over and makes every now and again, she also does a fantastic lasagne.
Before I close this one off I must tell you about the time An asked what I would like for tea when I came home. I said I fancied breaded plaice with mashed potatoes and peas. Now this, back home, is a case of banging into the oven a frozen breaded plaice, heating up the peas in a microwave and boiling a few potatoes (the most time consuming aspect). An on the other hand bought fresh plaice, floured and flavoured it and covered in breadcrumbs. With the peas she got frozen and puréed them, it was like concentrated mushy peas. Finally she bought some pre-made mash, cheating so to speak, but then she got them from the equivalent of Marks and Spencer's. The meal was lovely, but it shows that the tendency, in our house at least, is to go for fresh. Tinned and ready meals are almost never used.
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