I have not had a very ambitious time. I went to the choux shop, bought some choux, bought a falafel sandwich from the beardy hippies, then came home, took my bra off and watched Fake or Fortune on the sofa with three choux, after instagramming them like an insufferable wanker. You cannot imagine the pure animal delight of it all, or perhaps you can. Fake or Fortune is excellent and I am now obsessed with the faded, terribly British beauty of art expert Philip Mould who is like a Jilly Cooper hero, if Jilly Cooper ever wrote about art (oh, apparently she did) (I bet PM was in it).
What is happening in Uccle, Emma, you do not clamour, not even one or two of you. Well.
1. Our neighbour claims there is a pole cat living in the next street. I wonder what pole cats eat?
(b) Frites like everyone else, fool
(c) YOUR FACE
2. She also nearly got arrested for feeding the foxes, but ran away and someone else got in trouble instead. She is an outlaw.
3. My eldest son has been regaling me with texted tales from his summer gulag. For the first day he was mistakenly enrolled in a group of younger children.
I like "taped my solder" especially.
4. There are major, quartier-wide roadworks as a new and pointless roundabout is crafted, which is causing widespread disruption to all road and public transport users and generalised irritation. Someone has decided to deal with public resistance by means of a series of BATSHIT CRAZY rhyming slogans placed all over the area. It is the work of a creative agency, obviously. An agency that needs to go home, because it is drunk.
These are my favourites.
"Quartier en chantier, quartier enchanté"
The area's a building site, HOW FUCKING ENCHANTING
What you can't see is that this is basically in the middle of a massive heap of rubble. This is a brave statement.
Dans le chantier, on s'arrête pour bronzer!
In the building site, take a break to tan!
The state of my tan is always prominent in my mind as I cross building sites. I don't know if you can tell but that's a sort of tanning chair behind the window. So you can sit in the highly public tanning chair and look out at the devastation. Naked, presumably. I live to see someone doing this.
"Dans la poussière on fait des affaires"
There are bargains to be had in the dust
Doubtless. Cables. Corrugated iron. Fluorescent tabards. That kind of thing.
Du brouhaha, cela ne nous arrête pas!
The noise doesn't stop us!
On a hearing aid centre. Very good.
Dans les travaux, c'est rigolo!
The building works are fun!
No. This is just a lie, isn't it. Obviously they never watched that terrifying public information film about building sites they showed us in primary school in which a child was repeatedly killed in terrible and unlikely ways (crushed by falling masonry, drowned in pothole) and which blighted my tenth year.
There is still a reflex twitch of life in Uccle this week, next week, with the arrival of the fête nationale it will close down completely, leaving the probably fictional pole cat in charge. This is the point at which I usually give in completely to my summer psychosis, so that's something to look forward to.
10% pizza disappointment
10% vicious mosquito bite on knuckle
20% dissatisfaction with my tops (or rather with my own fatness preventing me wearing them)
60% shit I have to walk the dog now because he's whining at an unbearable pitch.