Loud and Clear

I pause and try not to stare at her. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that the Italian couple, who were arguing over which brand of whisky to get, are watching in silence to see what happens next. I decide to pretend that I have not heard her. I look up and am greeted by a peroxide blonde set of curls sitting atop way-too-much-make-up.

Electrifying

I carefully shield my camera as the blonde waitress wafts past me again, a tray laden with drinks in her hand. It’s not that I’m embarrassed by what I’m about to do, you understand, but there’s no need to draw attention to the fact that I’m about to prepare for another one of my blog posts.

Engendering Confusion

Despite many years of instruction, I still almost imagined my companion’s computer to have genitals. I suppress a smile and peek across at the laptop that refuses to connect to the airport wireless connection. The gentleman sitting next to me is trying to get work done but is rather frustrated at the lack of connectivity.

Raised Expectations

I refrain from swearing out loud, mainly because there is a nun sitting next to me. I doubt she would understand Maltese, but with my luck you can never really tell. I am sitting on a tram stop somewhere in Brussels waiting to catch the 94 tram which the overhead display claims has just passed. As you can imagine, it has not.

The Unexpected Meeting

There are many things that affect the stories behind the blog. First of all, there is the fact that certain weird things just happen to me. Or maybe I’m the only one who thinks that they are strange in the first place. Living in Belgium has certainly given me a taste for all things surreal …

Adding Complexity

“So,” the Unexpected Father concluded, “we only managed to get out because the machine let us out.” I nod as I munch on some frites. Having lived here in Brussels for a while, I’m not surprised at the fact that no one was manning the service desk at this metro station as I’ve often seen it empty.

Hake To The Sailor’s Blouse

A few weeks’ ago, I wrote about my brother in Spain contemplating the patriotic nature of his vegetables. Of course, it is easy to take a cheap shot at some restaurant owner who is doing his best to accommodate the tourist trade. After all, in many places, it is difficult to find something that’s in your own language so perhaps we should appreciate the effort.