This, the best announcements by Belgian railway guards, is the funniest thing I have read for MONTHS. French speakers only. I mentioned it on Twitter a few days ago, but I still love it. It encapsulates everything about Belgium that amuses and delights me.
What else is happening in Belgium, I hear you ask in your ones and occasionally twos?
1. The chip figurine I have been trying to photograph for months is still not out, though there is a nice mural of him on the front of the chip shop. I think they are scared I'll steal him, which is actually wrong, because I'd be scared to touch him. He is definitely some kind of sex pest.
THE TIP OF YOUR CONE IS TRAILING ON THE GROUND, SIR
2. I was furiously to learn from one of my neighbours that whilst we were in London, the incredibly grumpy hairdresser with the incredibly retro window decorations in our street was filmed for a Renault commercial. Apparently there was a chase scene in the street and everything! HOW can this have happened while I was away? The only exciting thing to happen in Uccle since the Napoleonic wars, and I missed it. I am left to try, hopelessly, to imagine the scene, and also wonder how much they paid him (I bet it was a lot, he is a miserable bastard and would not do it for love). Coming soon to a screen near you: my miserable bastard hairdresser neighbour and possibly my house en arrière plan. Fame, at last.
3. I am collecting 'StreetStyle Uccle' subjects, gradually. Today I added 'woman in a back fastening hospital gown at the bank' to my collection. A bold choice. The sun has also brought out Reclusive Neighbour and his Special Bench Of Crazy.
Special Bench of Crazy features:
Health and Safety outlawed nest of cables hooked up to CD player playing chamber music!
Sandpaper scratching/smoothing post!
Spare pencils neatly lined up its grooves!
Cache of batteries and sheath of mystery papers hidden under science magazines!
Rear view mirror!
I am considering stealing the design, making my own and selling them on QVC. Buy now while stocks last, ie. before Reclusive Neighbour takes it back inside with him. Which he does. Every night.
4. The Belgian candidate, Iris, has, with wearying inevitability, been eliminated from Eurovision at an early round. Would You? No, apparently we wouldn't. Reduced to two nationalities to choose from, we hesitate. Anggun, or Engelbert? La peste ou le choléra? I was rooting for the greasy, funk menace of Rambo Amadeus, but he too has been eliminated.
5. I am experiencing yet again the strangeness of having only one child around. So quiet! So easy! And yet so odd. I forget about not having Fingers around for huge swathes of time (well, you know, they are usually at school), and then suddenly remember and am filled with disquiet and miss his strange, insistent whispered messages in extremely precise, accented English. The big one is pretty nice though. Tonight we went and ate bad pizzas on a swing, then he read me a selection of disgusting extracts from the Grand Livre de L'Incroyable, which is a sort of extra-vulgar Guinness Book of Records substitute. I know a lot about freakish extra limbed creatures and hideous deformities now. In return I forced him to watch an episode of Thomas the Tank Engine which used to terrify him, and which now made him laugh like a drain. Better still, we discovered there is a whole vein of appalling fan homage videos recreating Thomas's Greatest Catastrophes. WHO does this? We watched a slightly balding tennis ball menace some Brio trains until we nearly cried laughing. I can't find it now, but frankly, it was quite an acquired taste so I don't think you're missing out too badly.
I am trying to appreciate every second, having read this lovely post about big boys, which set off lots of echoes. Soon, Fingers will have harvested enough barley at the collective farm to be allowed home and this tiny special hiatus of leisurely rat feeding and admiring photos of people who are half-mollusc will be gone again.