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BBQ FTW
 The sun is paying a visit and as a form of worship, a barbecue has been purchased and the last couple of evening meals have been cooked on the balcony. MFC has let loose his inner caveman although disappointingly he didn't grunt "man make fire" when he collected the ingredients from the kitchen. Maybe it's because we have only had burgers and sausages so far and not entered the "meat on a bone" territory of ribs, wings and legs yet. The Boy is proving quite adept at picking vegetables suitable for grilling and he is honing his skewering skills. I wonder which will run out first, the mild evenings or the menu and kebab ideas. 
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Easel side manner
"Did you do anything interesting at school today?" "We did portraits?" "You studied how artists draw people ?" "No. We drew the person next to us" "Do you want me to pose for for practice?" "No, you'd be too hard to draw." "I promise I wouldn't fidget" "I guess I could, but I'd have to do loads of marks on the paper because your face is full of dents and crevices" *holds back* "It's because you are old Mummy" Have kids they said, have kids... |
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We decided not to go for the Shane McGowan look after all
You'd think a 10 year old would know to duck when a blunt object comes towards them at speed. Apparently not. So if you take a week-end nice enough for a barbecue in The Boy's Father's garden, add a swing and 10 year old wanting to untangle it from the tree and stir you might get the following result. BEFORE  One emergency appointment at the dental surgery at the hospital + two visits to the dentist later - one to check the damage and redo the temporary work the hospital did which lasted less than a day and the other to rebuild the tooth with composites - (way to use up a day of already dwindling annual leave - but I'm not bitter) and you get this. AFTER  The Boy is happy with the result, less so with having to chop his apples to preserve the dentist's hard work. |
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Sometimes...
 Sometimes scaredy cats like me whose heart beat quickens at the mere thought of standing on a stepladder give birth to little people like The Boy who have absolutely no fears of heights whatsoever and who enjoy nothing better than launching themselves on zip wires. Sometimes, people like me who dislike heights enough to avoid looking at people on ladders and scaffolds because it makes them queasy manage to put aside the queasyness long enough to fulfill their mummy duties and watch as their little boys negotiate one rope bridge after another with determination. Sometimes, I am really glad my brother lets me use his camera and fancy zoom if he can't use it himself because he knows I am snap happy enough that the sheer volume of pictures will make up for my lack of skills and even out the odds in favour of capturing the concentration and pride on the face of all involved. Sometimes I wish my rules rules on putting The Boy's face on flickr were a bit less strict because there are a couple of really cute ones on the SD card waiting to be uploaded to the computer and tinkered with photoshop magic. Sometimes I wonder if MFC would forgive me if I put the photo of him pulling faces (purely to increase his power of concentration of course) while trying not to lose his balance on the oh so wobbly rope that seems oh so far away from the ground. I wonder if he'd forgive me or if he would seek retribution. Actually I only wonder for a second or 2. I know he would forgive me for sure AFTER he had dealt his own brand of retributions. Sa vengence serait terrible.
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C'était au temps où Bruxelles bruxellait
So how was Bruxelles then? To be honest it was a bit like this skyline... a bit dull as tourist destinations go.  Don't get me wrong, I am sure it's a perfectly pleasant place to live in, with a huge choice of places to eat, bars with a large choice of beers (like pecheresse , that stuff is seriously nice) and the second bestest chips in the world (after my grandmother's which *are* the bestsest ever, no contest) if you are happy to stand in line for half an hour at one of the numerous "friteries" (my favourite was Frit' Flagey ). Still, once you have done the touristy stuff like hang out on the Grand Place, take a peek at the Manneken Pis in one of its fancy costumes and in the buff, eat waffles, mussles and chips and chocolates I found I had a bit of a "what do we do now feeling".  The non plussed feeling wasn't helped by the fairly consistently bad service encountered. Special "OMG you are bad" mention goes to the staff at Le Pain Quotidien who makes Paris waiters look friendly and attentive. That place does nice bread and boils the perfect soft boiled egg and I could forgive the prices if service could be with a smile instead of a snarl, actually I'd settle for efficient service, where the waitress actually comes to take the order without having to be called three times after a 20 minute wait at the table and where the drinks are brought with breakfast rather than after it has been consumed, but there again I'm fussy like that. I wonder if the old lady sitting a few chairs away from us did get served eventually or if she eventually tired of waiting - she arrived a bit after us and was still waiting for somebody to come take her order after we had finished eating. Thankfully the Centre Belge de la Bande Dessinée didn't disappoint. Seriously, how could a building full of artifacts about childhood companions like Tintin , Gaston Lagaffe and Thorgal ever be a let down? I guess it could if BD isn't your thing but The Boy and I were quite happy to slouch on the cushions of the reading room and our biggest struggle was to pick which BD to read first. As for MFC lets just say he isn't as much of a fanboy as we are but he was happy enough to indulge us for a bit.  I know the Grand Place is a Unesco World Heritage site but I found it a bit underwhelming, maybe because of the grey weather, maybe because of the scaffoldings a large number of the buildings are covered in. My advice for the person who only has time to see one thing in Bruxelles... I'd say skip the Grand Place and make that one thing the Atomium . It has that "nifty" factor and it is easy to see why people fell in love with it enough to make it a landmark when it was meant to be a temporary feature (following in the footsteps of the Eiffel Tower and joined by the London Eye... long live the ephemeral by design only). 
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Dear Metropolitan Police,
When you send people a form through the post, with their name and address neatly typed in a box on the front page, could you please explain why the same front page of a form then asks for that same name and address. I would understand if the box said "in case the name and address above are incorrect", but I feel silly entering the exact same information - which you collected from me on the previous form I filled in and then processed in some way so it could be neatly printed on the new form - in my rather crummy handwriting. It seems a bit like a duplication of information, as does the request for the date and location of the incident, which are also neatly typed on the front of the form. I wonder if somebody somewhere will be re-entering the data which was already collected on the first form and duplicating the information in an additional field. 
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Such a sweet talker
 Some teenagers who were leaning on the wall and shouted "fat arse!" at me as I walked past. I explained to a colleague that I had been tempted to turn round and shout that it wasn't that fat and that I then thought better of it because when it comes to it the aim was to be offensive not to make me aware of my bulk so it would have defeated the object. She thought about it a little and then said. "You should have, it's not small but it's definitely not shout out in the street large". I might have laughed, a little loud, ok, I admit, very loud at the remark. From now on, when I get dressed I shall no longer inquire "does my bum look big in this" noooo, in future I shall ask "does this make my bump look shout out in the street large?".
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