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