Nothing amusing has happened in the last couple of days. This is not a complaint, everything is fine, just not very blog-worthy. You can rest your eyes on this list of humdrum non-events in a dull moment, I suppose.
The surviving rat just peed up my (best cashmere jumper) sleeve. It hasn't done this to anyone else. Fucker. Who does it think keeps it in hypo-allergenic bedding and its favourite thyme scented hamster food?
Plumber has vanished after promising that he had "measured the pipe" and would be returning "urgently". Water continues to accumulate in places it should not be.
A man on the Armani counter gave me an unsolicited pity makeover this afternoon, because I was looking at his lipsticks while dishevelled and make up free, and I think because he felt I was bringing the reptilian House of Armani into disrepute. Admittedly I do look pretty awful.
I don't think I can listen to "The Happy Farmer" (Fröliche Landmann, beginner's violin torture, vol 84) again without breaking down irretrievably.
There are two squidgy rubber eyes in a plastic bag on top of the microwave and I think they have been there for a year.
The alien putty too, but I find the eyes much more disturbing. It's the texture. This evening I tried shouting that if they were still there tomorrow I would throw them in the bin and now they have gone, but doubtless I will find them somewhere far worse tomorrow.
FOURTH day of sun. I feel like a new woman (even without a thick layer of unsolicited Armani goop). The wasteland that is the back yard is sprouting (mainly weeds). Birds (mainly pigeons) are singing. I am no longer so enraged at my neighbour that I fantasise about punching his teeth in whilst grinding my own away to stumps. Much. Except during the Jamiroquai sequences.
Made a new friend in the park. She's called Angelika, she's Romanian and she used to be a member of the Committee of the Regions. We had a chat about chickens, children who won't tell you what they want, Brussels, the city all your friends leave, and Romanian winds. She is several decades older than me, obviously, I basically live the life of a pensioner. Hopefully she won't turn out to be a massive racist like my previous dog walking acquaintance. So awkward.
Stroked two nice dogs on public transport: a comical bulldog puppy with gigantic paws (rather smelly) and an effusive Staffie called Ziggy, who made noises like a pig. Ziggy's owner said she was actually "a really fat whippet". He looked traveller-esque and spoke heavily Cockney accented English, but not to native level, quite a puzzle on the Brussels metro. Most things on the Brussels metro are a puzzle though (music, civil war reminiscent levels of disrepair, futile barriers, etc etc).
We tested eye creams on Facegoop and mine were bloody disastrous, so that's one less thing to spend my money on. Results here. There's nothing like a vast, awful, exhausted picture of yourself with no concealer or foundation around your eyes to raise morale. I really need that 3 day cantaloupe and salmon facelift, shame it's absolute bollocks, eh.
Apparently the Belgian pandas arrive later this month!
My cephalopod correspondent has alerted me to this both touching and profoundly unsettling piece of capybara behaviour*. DR CAPYBARA? IS THAT YOU? BLINK IF YOU NEED HELP.
Do fill me in on anything more interesting you have been doing, which has to be one of the lowest bars imaginable.
*NB: For the avoidance of doubt, the capybara, despite its classification by the Catholic church as a 'fish' is not a cephalopod.