Down: Crossed town (desperate scramble for clean clothes, double tram fun) for a meeting that had been cancelled.
Up: They let me into the building before they told me that, and they have nice coffee.
Down: The dog was sick, copiously, right next to the sofa last night.
Up: I narrowly avoided stepping in it, barefoot AND he avoided the (white) sofa.
Down: I still had to clean it up, which was enough to start me retching.
Up: I was quite productive yesterday and wrote a 1400 word article in one concentrated burst, thereby freeing myself for tempura and pottering downtown.
Down: Then I decided it wasn't quite right and I have spent the whole of today arsing around with it to little avail.
Up: I had tempura and miso soup on my own, in total peace in the sunshine at St Géry, and wandered around downtown Brussels for half an hour.
Down: My tempura was a bit rubbish and approximately 93% batter.
Up: Cosmeticary now sells Laura Mercier - the first place in Brussels to have half decent cosmetics, hurrah.
Down: I can't afford Laura Mercier.
Down: I am really quite fat, and I can't quite work out why. I think I have hit a metabolic wall, and will have to stop eating crisps and cinnamon rolls (and 93% batter tempura, you may quite justifiably add).
Up: It has mainly gone to my chest, which is attracting quite the following among Brussels perverts.
Down: My chest hurts like hell.
Up: It is not because I am pregnant, thank fuck. Or if I am, it is a miracle, and they can start a cult in my honour, which might be lucrative.
(After I wrote this, I got so paranoid that even though there was no possible way I could be pregnant, I actually wasted €7 on a test, which,
Up: Was negative; but
Down: That means I'm just fat. M says it's probably the menopause, and they are putting hormones in my chicons. )
Down: Organising Lashes's birthday party (paintballing, never again) is a complete ball-ache. I have had to provide full postal addresses, phone numbers, ages, dental records and DNA samples (ok, that might not be strictly accurate) for all attendees ten days in advance (when of course, no normal parent has even located the invitation, let alone replied to it) on an online form of enormous complexity. It is also frighteningly expensive: I could probably build my own paintballing centre for the price. I have lost all festive spirit in the preparation.
Up: Parents are actually BANNED from staying on site at the paintball place. They will cancel the party if we hang around. Oh, shame. I supppose we must comply though. Oh look, there is a conveniently placed chateau with a café just a brief stroll away.
Down: The oehoe cam is entirely obscured by leaves
Up: The baby Slechtvalks are quite nice.
Colossal down: I have just looked and there seem to be only two left! Oh DEAR. There used to be three. Bloody nature. This whole birdcam thing is fraught.
Sheepish, but very relieved up: I think the third chick had just wobbled off screen and hasn't plunged to its death. Phew.
Down: This post is utter rubbish.
Do let me know your ups and downs of the last few days?