As it was Belgian National Day today and a holiday, I took myself off for a day trip to Antwerp. And was Most Pleasantly Surprised. Antwerp knocks spots off Brussels. For a start, it feels like a real city, big and imposing and self confident. With a River. A River is very important. I think that’s why Brussels doesn’t feel like a proper city, it’s only got a canal. Antwerp has great shopping, loads of restaurants and bars, a Chinese quarter, the second biggest port in Europe, so lots of sailors …. and diamonds. Oh wow, has it got diamonds. They hit you in the face the minute you step outside the station. Sparkle, sparkle, sparkle, they went. Daphne, Daphne, Daphne, they called. Almost made me forget about chocolate. I earmarked a few pretty items for my next Big Occasion, or next husband, whichever arrives first.
Antwerp is also a mere 35 minutes by train from Brussels, and a day return set me back a whopping £4.50. I can’t believe I’ve been here nearly a year and no-one has told me what a fabulous place it is. The Twerps, as the residents of Antwerp are called, know how to keep a good thing to themselves.
It was horrendously hot today. To make matters worse, I fear I may have reached that milestone in a woman’s life. The hot flashes. Although it’s very difficult to tell in this weather. I shall have to wait until the autumn to know for sure. In the meantime I shall attempt to perspire daintily and always carry a couple of extra lace handkerchiefs.
The heat drove me into the Royal Museum of Fine Arts, where I cooled off among the Flemish Old Masters. The museum thought they’d jazz things up a bit by sprinkling the works of Antwerp-born “installation artist” Jan Fabre throughout the permanent exhibits. 
They were most incongruous, plonked in the middle of rooms full of 16th Century Flemish masterpieces. One exhibit that stopped me in my tracks for a good few minutes was an incredibly lifelike model of the artist with his nose smashed into a (presumably fake) Old Master, the dripping blood forming a puddle on the floor in which he (or his effigy) stood in bare feet. I know what Harold would have said had he been there. However, it was so lifelike I couldn’t resist offering to drop an ice cube down his back. Some puzzled looks were exchanged with other visitors. Most peculiar. But is it art?
10 comments:
I'll stop lurking long enough to say...for a minute I thought the effigy was having his period...
The heat was unbearable yesterday. the Twat and I went to visit a friend and i arrived feeling so hot, close to passing out so asked for a cold shower and a towel. i think the salvation army band who passed below her balcony will never be the same again though.
G-Gal ... that is gross. The blood was actually dripping from his nose. It was still quite unpleasant.
Shilo ... what do you think it was trying to say? Look where you're going?
Zed ... did the Sally Army see your Twat then?
Isn't it funny about diamonds? The last time himself bought me a ring I decide that that was as big as I wanted to go. And suddenly it seems to have shrunk and I think we should trade it in for a slighty larger one - like one used to do with cars.
Do consider hormone replacement therapy - HRT. It has been ny saviour for far too many years. In theory I shouldn't be here but I reckoned quality of life was better than quantity. Doesn't suit everybody of course but it does work.
My granny always used to tell me that "men sweat, women perspire, but ladies merely glow." But I don't think the hormones ever got up the nerve to give her a menopause. She'd have looked in the mirror and frozen her hot flush away with an icy how-dare-you look.
Pat: If you're looking for a rock, come to Antwerp. The prices appeared too good to be true. There was 50-60% discount in all the shops, summer sales I guess. I bet the prices shoot up just before Christmas. Harold never bought me a diamond, he was too mean. So I'm going to buy myself a belter as soon as I'm officially out of widow's weeds.
Sam: I'll try that. I used to be able to freeze Harold to the spot with a disapproving glare. I have had less success stopping the March of Time, but I'll keep practising.
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