I am back.
It’s 23.02 English time. Out there in Belgium it would be 00.02. All them noughts.
And yes, it was me in Brugger. I know we say Brughe, but they don’t. Lovely to hear from Cutesy, my wonderful camera op, and lovely to get all your comments – they’re still thrilling me. But enough with the vinegar already, although to be fair the smell has died down over the last five days.
But in answer to your query as to whether I had seen Market Kitchen…
I steeled myself and watched it tonight. There was no reason for me to cry but I did shed a tear. Principally because I felt that the young pretenders had ousted me and that the food took second place to attractive young folk doing their stuff.
I asked my eldest daughter Hanna, who’s been house sitting, her opinion and she said, ‘4*&*^xxxnmund fu;,nuclbh,mn’. I then asked Jim as I wanted a balanced opinion and he said, ‘Listen love, *9(9),nlfiuw45ugb’. So, all in all we are pretty much agreed that the show… well, the show is… well, what I’m trying to say is that the show IS.
You will forgive me for not writing more this evening. I am buggered from Brugger, but I will sit down on Friday and regail you with tales of mussels and chips, food poisoning and fascists. So, do join me. Cu2morrer.