They like dolls. Or perhaps they don't.
I took a picture of this delightful tableau initially that I was very happy with, but when I showed it to the CFO he said, "no, you can't tell it's been scalped. Do it again". I love how he is always striving for excellence.
Again, here he said "make sure you can tell those are its eyes".
This one is specially for Antonia. These fuckers are up to no good. They are plotting their next armed raid on the local night shop.
In the end the joke was on us, when we both ended up buying things. I bought a plush Bulbasaur. €3. (CFO: "you HAVE to negotiate! Otherwise you aren't respecting the marketplace! It's disrespectful to accept his first price!"). Then the CFO bought a slightly too small all in one motorcycle waterproof suit thing from a decayed gentleman who looked like Serge Gainsbourg's more disreputable (yes, imagine) brother. For €15. (Me: "did I just imagine that conversation about my Bulbasaur?"). We placed the Bulbasaur on top of the tv and it looked witheringly at us when we watched shitty tv. I barely missed Oscar at all as a result.
The Spa of Spa was peaceful and beautiful. Look!
Imagine, indeed what the "Cérémonie Inférnale" in the Sauna Naturiste might be. Or not.
There was one tricky moment when someone's sticking plaster ended up stuck to my finger. Brrrr. But the quasi-miraculous appearance of a temporary cocktail bar serving violet mojitos ably helped me forget Plastergate, and several of the less well-advised pairs of swimming trunks on show. The nudists had their own section behind a large metal gate and the CFO could not be convinced at any price to go and peep.
"Pourquoi? C'est étrange, j'en vois strictement pas l'interêt" ('Why? It's weird, I don't see the point')
"Because I am British and am therefore simultaneously repelled and pruriently fascinated by nudity" I should have said. In fact I said "moi non plus" ('nor do I') and shut up, regretfullly.
Given the absence of nudity, fighting, or other noteworthy hideousness, I felt compelled to take a picture of this packet of cakes.
Good holidays make for bad blogging. Sorry.