Friday, 20 November 2009

Moving, Moving, Moved

I am in the FNAC, temple of all things audiovisual. They do not, contrary to Belgacom's lies, have a Wifi network. I have no idea whose wifi I am stealing, but it works occasionally. I am rapidly losing my sense of humour about this whole connectivity thing. Dull. How are you internet? I miss you. It's lonely here in 1983 without you. Wafflechild keeps getting his iphone out and staring at it folornly, telling me all the magical things it could do if we weren't, well, in Belgium.

Apart from that, sweet baby Nathan but the last 24 hours have been EFFICIENT. My gay adoptive son is like a home furnishing whirlwind, braving not only Belgian public transport, but also my driving and Belgian Ikea (where we both incurred paper cuts deep enough to require several stitches and bled all over the collection area before staunching the flow with a 65 cent hot dog, famous for their antiseptic properties) and THEN building flat pack after flat pack in a whirl of ratchet screwdrivers and Allen keys. He is AMAZING. A techno/practico/brico genius. Clearly his days of slavery in the cruel art factory he used to occupy were not wasted. My rôle has been to stand back, open mouthed and admire. It has been bloody brilliant, I can't imagine how I could ever repay him, having no skills in any domestic departments whatsoever. Maybe some mean biscuits? And of course a trip to Chez Maman's transvestite cabaret tonight. If I ever let him out of flat pack hell. Hmmm. I am tempted to just keep him. He is unbelievably useful, a bit like a home help for the elderly and permanently confused, he has got my heating working, showed me how to work my Mac, set the time on my stereo and remembered several times where I put my keys.

The Salmon Palace is starting to look like a real home, albeit one situated deep in a Marks and Spencer smoked salmon mousse. The move was extraordinarily, even brutally, fast. I only flinched a couple of thousand times as the three village idiots tossed stuff around cavalierly. We were finished before the Wafflechild had even found his way out of the Gare du Midi (much harder than it sounds, actually) leaving more time for hardcore flat pack action (if that phrase doesn't occur in my keywords, I will be extremely disappointed). The table has been a total revelation, allowing us to sit and drink tea whilst we mock the crack three man fence building team, particularly the taciturn Boris and his chainsaw happy, dog baiting, one handed press up performing awesomeness. I have a Romanian orphan tv table thing liberated from Ikea's Bargain Corner, a kitchen bench type thing, curtains... None of it would have been even remotely imaginable without Mr Houser. I would just be sitting in a nest of cardboard boxes eating biscuits and whining. He is truly a boy wonder. He should be canonised Saint Thomas of Uccle. Truly.

In other news - and truly, I promise, normal service will eventually be resumed on these pages, rather than feeble despatches from the outer limits of the 1980s - Brussels is entirely filled with drunken students at the moment. I should probably know what it's all about but the whole of the lower town is sticky with spilled beer, piss and vomit, and lorries full of peculiar people in decorated labcoats with beer mugs tied round their necks are staggering around showing me their genitals. Peculiar, but entertaining. Anyone know what it is?

I have to go. But before I do, let me edify you with the news that a BELGIAN, our Prime Minister "Herman Von Rompuy" (an assumed name if ever I heard one) has now been elected King and Lord High Emperor of Europe. He gets to have a throne on the top of the Atomium and robes made from the national flags of the 27 Member States. Or something. I dread to imagine what this will mean for Belgian government, so if you don't hear from me for a while it probably means I have been called upon to run Belgium temporarily. Don't worry, I have an Allen key and I know how to use it. Well, I don't but I know a man who does.


The Accidental Author said...

Jaywalker, please, please send me your Flatpack King. We have also moved and I'm in dire need of organising. We're trying to fit 5 bedrooms into three small ones and it's not working. We've also had to brave the necessary evil which is IKEA where the CH was worse than a toddler for wandering off. Bon courage et bon continuation. PVLiF

the polish chick said...

what has worked for me in the past (and when i say "worked for me" i mean "i didn't always fuck up entirely") is to get drunk and THEN attempt the flat pack assembly process.

in this mellow way i put together an ikea coffee table using nothing but wine fumes, a butter knife and several pints of my blood. sure, it had to be reassembled later, using proper technical equipment that goes by the name of screwdriver, but for that night at least i had somewhere to put my wineglass.

it also "worked" for an ikea storage shelving unit which i actually put together gloriously but was unable to get fully in to (or, subsequently, out of) the storage room where for days it hovered crosswise above the floor before being rescued by a guffawing mr. monkey.

you do sound better. keep it up! more gin! bustawsu (WV), bring more gin!

redfox said...

Flatpack hooray! I am currently deeply regretting the fact that our nearest Ikea is two whole hours away. And then of course who knows how far we would have to go to find a Flatpack King as glorious and helpful as yours? Very far indeed, I imagine.

Ami said...

I think you would do a most excellent job of running Belgium. If you need someone to do your PR work, my brother is there and would be happy to help, I'm sure.

So glad that moving went quickly and well and you had a lovely person to assist you in assembling dread flat packs. Here's hoping the Belgacom listens to your pleas in short order and that you can settle into your new home AND connect to the Internet.

Anonymous said...

Now, one thing I am good at is deciphering Ikea instructions and using that potent little Allen key to its best advantage. I have tapped into that part of my brain. I can build and build and build, and certainly, nothing looks PERFECT when I'm done, but hell, I did it, it stands up (usually in the same way the Leaning Tower of Pisa stands up) and is semi functional so I consider it a job well done. Although, honestly, isn't there SUPPOSED to be a couple of pieces left over that you have no idea what you were supposed to do with to begin with? I say yes.

I will say that a large collection of your favourite alcohol is the best assistant to furniture building you can ever find.

I once played a small gig with my band in Belgium in some tiny town near the France and Luxembourg borders. It was full of extremely drunken 15 year olds who thought it was still the eighties and enough free Jupiler to fill a swimming pool. Good times! :)

The Spicers said...

When I heard the news about Rumpoy I thought of you immediately. Didn't you do a cake of him once?
Hooray for your gay adopted son; he sounds brilliant! And congrats on surviving your move.

That's Not My Age said...

I think running Belgium would be fun - and if you don't fancy it, I hear Tony Blair is looking for a new job!

Red Shoes said...

I love Wafflechild and his fabulous, helpful, lovely ways. Hooray for Wafflechild!

London City (mum) said...

I was indoctrinated into flat-pack assembly at an early age, visiting IKEA in Switzerland (Zurich? Bern? mind a bit woolly these days) at the tender age of 8 in the 1970s.

It has become a lifelong obsession and I am proud to declare that said talent is yet to abandon me (yes, I know there is still time as I steadily grow more senile, but cut me some flack man...).

So if in need (and gay adoptive son absence), you know who to call.


p.s. I am also an avid ABBA fan, so maybe it is just a Swedish thing

carolinefo said...

So glad to hear you are getting settled in, sweetheart, and have some male assistance. Male assistance is key at a time like this.

Am liking the sound of Wafflebebe more and more.

i think you should rent him out. This could be an excellent business proposition for both of you.

In general, this is what the women of the Noughties need: the All-Purpose Bloke (OK, Wafflebebe not fit for quite ALL purposes, but near enough)

WV = salmig. I think that is a kind of disgusting Swedish food you can only buy in Ikea. Or get posted t oyou by @jeremyduns.

Much love from me, Freddie & the cats. Your designated Aegean Ektorp is waiting for you, whenever you need it.

C xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

unintentional housewife said...

apparently the drunken students are taking part in St.Verhaegen day--commemorating the founding of the U.L.B. i was completely boggled about it myself when i saw all the drunken youngsters covered in paint and throwing things (although this is Belgium, so you just never know), but wikipedia has saved the day again. i have an irrational fear of being vomited on, so i'm doing my best to stay far, far away from anyone in a lab coat in Brussels today.

Anonymous said...

Oh I love thee Belgium Waffulus.

Please do a separate post on the subject so we can count the ways!

fanny said...

Hey there funny girl - just catching up on you. Hoping this all goes really well. With a weepette what can go wrong?

Lulu LaBonne said...

Will you still be doing the fetes - Or am I a bit late?

Veronica Wald said...

Do you suppose you could rent out your gay adoptive son? I'd be happy to show him the sights of Chicago and let him play with my kitten if we could cut some kind of deal.

johnny88 said...

oh he's belgian.. i had high hopes it would be the gay german guy - with the oddly attractive 'partner'... wishful thinking...
as for ikea - you haven't lived until you've bitten into one of their fatty meatballs straight from the microwave. honestly. i used to buy one pack as a student and limit myself to three meatballs a day with some sort of carb..
i'm getting cravings now just thinking about it...

westendmum said...

...and breathe!
Well done the pair of you, what reward will the Houser be getting.
Does one Allen key fit everything in Belgium? I have a selection that fit nothing, maybe they're french and Erbie's cot still only has three sides.
I was stuck sans internet when I first got my computer and used to piggyback but now we have a dongle - which changed my life for the better, I put £10 on a month and have constant internet access!
Must go Erbie has just managed to remove the selotape holding the Sky card in place.

The Jules said...

Hmmph. Bet he reads the instructions.

bevchen said...

I am going to google that phrase to make sure it ends up in your statistics.

Glad to hear the move went well.

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