Aux Bruxelles

Today, I have been recovering. 

The weekend began with a rush-hour train to London and a brisk walk to St. Pancras station. A glass of Merlot, train supplies from M&S and a half-hour delay later, we were on our way to Belgium. Prosecco, crisps and olives helped the journey pass quite pleasantly. 

Upon arrival in Brussels, we were met by our friend, a UK diplomat on a two-year secondment. Back at his apartment, the wine flowed along with the catch-up chat, before we headed to bed for a well-earned rest. A lazy morning with home-cooked breakfast (scrambled eggs and mushrooms on toast, fresh orange juice) was followed by a trip to the busy, busy Christmas market et beaucoup de vin chaud. C'etait bien.  After some tartiflette and a sit-down, we headed back to change for the evening. Genuis graduate professionals that we are, we thought it would be clever to squeeze five adults in an ancient apartment building lift. We just managed to close the doors. It was not a good idea. We got stuck. Half a floor up.

Yikes. 

If you've never got stuck in a lift before, but wondered how it would feel, what would you do; I'm not sure I can say. For the first minute, it was...it's fine, it will be okay. Just press the button again. Press the other button. There wasn't panic, but it was tense. It was stuffy. Did I mention we only just managed to squeeze in? It was tight. Press the call button. Is it ringing? No. Do we have signal? No. Press the alarm...is that someone coming? Are they talking to us?  

There was someone. He called the maintenance company. We forced open the lift doors and he opened the door. We had air. We had a friendly Flemish face, speaking fluent English. The maintenance had been informed. Trente minutes. Thirty minutes, shoulder to shoulder with four other people. We manged to take off our coats, one at a time, and pass them up to him. He stayed with us, he laughed with us, he took photos of us and half an hour passed quite quickly, considering the circumstances. We didn't consider what might happen if something went wrong; if there were further delays, if there were problems. If he couldn't get us out. 

We got out. Forty five minutes waiting then 5 mins of being winched manually back down to the ground floor. What a relief to be out. What an ordeal to deal with, in a foreign country. But we were okay, we were with friends. We survived. 

Later, we went to see the light show at Grand Place, which was fantastic. We went out for dinner and drinks, both delicious. If I were a true blogger, this entry would be filled with photos of the rest of the weekend and not a story documenting my own stupidity. But, the memories we make are built from the less than ordinary moments.

It was a good weekend. I would have liked to see more of the city, I would have liked to have a waffle. But when the Eurostar is less than 3 hours and under £70 return, there's plenty of chance for me to go again one day. 

I might take the stairs next time. 

Flitterbox: Coldplay ~ Christmas Lights

Baby Born

Today, I have felt old.

One of my close friends gave birth yesterday. A little chubby cherub. I don't know quite how to feel about this. For the last half of this year, I have known she was pregnant. Six months seems like it's a long enough time to get used to the idea, especially with an ever-increasing bump presented in front of me. Yet somehow, it's still so strange. 

It's the first of my friends to have a baby. It wasn't planned or expected, but it happened and now she's a real person in the real world and one of my school mates is a Mum. It's weird. None of my friends are even husbands or wives, let alone parents, so to have a mum among us makes it extra peculiar. 

We're growing up. I am aware, it will be a snowball effect. This was accidental, outside of the usual course of things but in a few years' time, one by one and all at once, people will be getting pregnant on purpose. I will be gulping at the extortionate expense allocated for sequential hen-dos, all happening within a months of each other. I feel like we are quite in limbo at the moment, at this age. There are careers, there are long-term boyfriends, there are mortgages, but there are no marriages or families. All of that is soon to come, has now started, and the anticipation makes me slightly anxious. Who will end up tying the knot; who will end up breaking up? Who will be the next to get pregnant? Will the baby's parents' relationship survive on this tiny thread of life which it has developed around? What will change in six months' time? Where will we be in five years' time?

Where do I belong forever, in whose arms, the time and place?

Flitterbox: Avril Lavigne ~ My World

Age Concern

Today, I have felt young.

I walked across the dark car park, careful to ensure I kept my bag close to me and my eye out for any suspicious characters. It was an idle Tuesday evening, not late but the lack of sunlight makes even six o'clock seem sinister. There was a tall man looking lost, an older gentleman, but not one I would classify as elderly. 

He approached me, cautiously, and asked if there was a police station nearby. There wasn't one but when someone asks that you can only wonder if they are in trouble. His nose was streaming, his ears sprouted dark hair. I asked if he needed help, if he was okay. He couldn't find his car. The car park was big, but it wasn't huge. I couldn't imagine losing a parked car, not remembering even the vague area that you left it. Was it just a case of old age? Can it happen that you just completely forget something so vital to remember? He said he felt like an utter fool. It must be so embarrassing. 

What could I do? I asked him if he needed a taxi calling. He was grateful for that, he didn't have a phone, he didn't live in the area, he was staying in a nearby town. He would have to come back again in the morning to find his car. I phoned the taxi for him, let them know it was not for me but for a man who didn't have a contact number. I was already running late, so I couldn't stick around too long. I showed him where to buy cigarettes while he waited and I went on my way. 

I have to hope he got to wherever he was staying. He had money, he had an address and he had a bank card, so although I have no way of knowing, there's no reason to believe he wouldn't be okay. The place was busy and safe enough, restaurants and bars nearby, plenty of people around to help if needed. It was just a weird situation; a scary side-effect of getting older and being alone. A harsh reminder that although now I am mentally capable and physically able, at some point, I will no longer be. One day, I'll be older too.

Never get old, he said. 

Flitterbox: Pulp ~ Help The Aged - one time they were just like you.

Gift Giving

Today, I have received a gift. 

Receiving presents makes me terribly uncomfortable. There's not a lot of stuff I really want or need. It is really sweet when someone buys me something small and thoughtful, or sends me something little in the post as a pick-me-up. It is nice to feel like someone cares about you, thinks about you.

But just giving loads of gifts, for the sake of it? Because you like buying gifts? It annoys me. Except, I am not allowed to be annoyed at it because they are doing it for me. I appreciate that I am very lucky and I am grateful, but it is the useless expense that bothers me. Why have you bought me this, why have you bought me so much? I didn't ask for it. I don't expect it. I don't want it. It's not humorous or meaningful; a shared joke or memory. It doesn't make me happy, it makes me feel guilty. 

I try to take the view that it is their money, that they get to choose how to spend it, and if it makes them happy to spend it on me, then the real gift is not the item but the way it makes them feel and my main role is to allow them their joy in purchasing presents for me. It sounds awful and ungracious to put it that way, I know. I'm sure there's plenty of people (although most of them not reading this) who would love someone to just show some sort of affection towards them through gift-giving. Who ask, would I miss it if I didn't have it? Would I prefer someone who didn't buy me gifts at all? 

Of course I appreciate the affection that is demonstrated in this routine. To have someone, who is always thinking of you first - buying you things before they buy themselves things. It is nice. But there are always other ways of doing that. I don't need all the stuff.

What do I do with all this stuff? Stuff I won't use; stuff that takes up space; stuff that costs large amounts of money and is never seen nor worn. The sensible thing is to tell the person you don't want the stuff. But to them, the stuff is their love. The stuff is them. To say you don't want the stuff is to say you don't want them. I can't understand it, to me, stuff is mostly just stuff and I have too much,  yet I am very bad at getting rid of it. 

Flitterbox: The Feeling ~ Same Old Stuff

Advent Arrives

Today, I have a dry and scaly lizard hand. 

It's a Monday! It's the beginning of the month! It's the start of Advent! So many time-markers I wanted all my good habits to start at once and yet it's half-ten and I feel like I've failed the fresh start.

I will do more cardio! Yoga keeps you happy and relaxed and stretched but it doesn't make you sweat, it doesn't make you fit. I don't need to lose weight, but I would like to feel like my heart is healthy.

I will read more books! November was going to be my month of reading. When I hear about people who have less spare time than me read nine or ten books a month, and I've barely managed that in the past 9 or 10 months, something's got to change.

I will go to bed on time! Stay off screens and sleep at a sensible hour. I will start work on time! Having eaten breakfast and drank something before doing so. 

I will write more! Do more! Think more! Be more! Be happy. 

I will make more people happy. Last week, I sent a cheer-up package of small things; I like sending post almost as much as receiving it. Christmas is a time to spread the love and the joy and I love that about it. 

I also love festive flavoured coffees. Mostly too sweet, but some just hit the spot and they all smell so good. I had a praline cappuccino today whilst pondering plans for presents. A lovely lunch.

So, maybe I chose Chinese over cardio and screen over book. It's almost quarter-to eleven and I'm not in bed so that's another strike. But I have sorted something special for someone special and that makes the day worthwhile, right? 

Flitterbox: Jimmy Durante - Make Someone Happy