.A Digress Can't Change Her Stripes.

Last week I went to a new place with my ex. I fell in love with one and smoothed things over with the other. Before I went I thought, What the hell was I thinking inviting the ex to go on holiday with me? I knew that this trip would either become a gargantuan mistake or it would untie the knots in our relationship. I am lucky. It was the latter.

Our common ground was Brussels. I spent my first few hours in this city feeling small and lost. I was supposed to go see my friend but he ended up having to go to Austria for a last-minute business trip (hence the clever invitation to the ex). Eventually I found my way to his flat (thanks for the lack of directions, asshole) where I plunged the key into the door, only to discover it wouldn't budge. After jiggling it around, somewhat manically, I burst, unashamedly, into tears, right in the middle of that quaint, Belgian street. As soon as I called my mother, the door flung open; her magic can cross countries.

Upstairs, I found a pile of dirty dishes, a single, unclean towel and a mug masquerading as an ashtray. Yes, I wept again.

Despite the distressing beginning to my trip, Brussels swept me away. It has a peculiar charm, a run-down delicacy, a gritty quaintness about it. It is, without a doubt, the most polite city I've evern been to. People in the street stop to offer you their assisstance! Yet, I would not walk around by myself at night.

My favourite place was Les Marolles. The Jeu de Balle market is utterly divine! A whole world of junk and antiques- the most spectacular little finds! I bought a handmade, beaded 1930's purse, a tiny, embroisered portable ashtray and a tin with a rusty phoenix on the lid that was absolutely filled with buttons! We met a furniture maker called Stephan who divorced his Texan wife because she was crazy, who had gone from owning multiple houses to being homeless and back again, who paid for our coffee without telling us! When all the sellers had packed up and left, we wandered through the cobble stoned square and looked for neglected treasures. I found dozens of black and white photographs scattered all around like monochrome confetti! I'm going to make a collage... a collage of the histories of strangers.

Oh and I went to a Bob Dylan concert. He was so disappointing. I was told he would be but I think I hoped he wouldn't anyway.

Human tend to be sheep in disguise. Few people are Babes in this world. Trying doesn't mean we're not sheep. So here's my Happy List:

1. The first gust of warm air every spring.
2. Sundaes.
3. Bed-time. Especially if there's a hot water bottle involved. Oh or a lover!
4. Drivers letting me cross the street when there are no traffic lights involved.
5. Reunions with old friends.
6. The number thirty-three.
7. Cocktails.
8. When my cat sleep on my stomach. (OK, this happened only once but it made me really happy.)
9. Drunken 'no, I love YOU more' conversations.
10. Writing.

Greece refuses to warm up this year. I can't believe it's May and I'm still sleeping with my duvet. In Australia we call a duvet a 'doona'- isn't that so cute? I also love 'lollies' instead of 'candy'. Aw, I should relight my Aussie vocabulary.

Actually, maybe it's time I stick to a single vocabulary... and a single accent. I say pants and trousers. I say pant and underwear. I say cab and taxi. When I talk to my family or people in Australia (note, no necessarily Australians), I'm Aussie. In Britain, I speak English with an Aussie/ American twang. With everyone else I'm super American... and I've never even been there! I have a feeling I'll end up with an American accent...
I digress.