MKWM

Follow me, myself and I

2009-09-28T08:23:00.003+02:00

I learned my lesson today: do not mess with widgets that early in the morning when you should be on your way to work...

Welcome David

2009-09-27T19:30:00.004+02:00

Un des plus grands bonheurs de cette vie, c'est l'amitié ;

et l'un des bonheurs de l'amitié,

c'est d'avoir à qui confier un secret.

[Alessandro Manzoni]

Les copains d'abord

2007-12-09T17:59:00.000+01:00

Que l'on soit collègues, amis ou un groupe de personnes ayant quelque chose en commun, rien de tel que de se retrouver réunis autour d'une table. L' approche des fêtes de fin d'année est une raison de plus pour ce faire, n'est-ce pas?

La recette est simple et facile à réaliser: prenez une grosse tranche de samedi soir, une poignée de copains, ajoutez un soupçon de bonne humeur, un zeste de joie de vivre et une larme de parfum exotique. Faites revenir le tout dans un poêlon assez grand et savourez immédiatement.

C'est ainsi que la soirée de Noël des blagueurs bruxellois a eu lieu hier soir, sous le haut patronnage de Lady Daphné, laquelle apparut au restaurant indien en grand apparat, comme il se doit, suivie de ses dames de compagnie Doris, Honey, Marianne, Vida-Min et moi-même, ainsi que du vaillant chevalier Elaib et deux de ses compagnons d'armes. Joliet Jake, notre maharajah d'un soir que nous rencontrions pour la première fois, nous a tous sollennellement acceuillis et nous a invité sans plus tarder à déguster les différentes saveurs de son pays d'origine.

Le restaurant Anarkali fut suggéré par ce dernier, qui nous confia qu'il recommande cet endroit à tous ceux qui veulent découvrir les plats principaux de la cuisine indienne. Eaux, vins et mets succulents à volonté pour un prix des plus raisonnables, voilà un très bon choix, ma foi. En voyant le contenu de ma troisième assiette, j'aurais pu me croire dans un restaurant grec, tellement la similitude était grande. Le spécialiste à notre table confirma que l'ajout de feta dans les épinards n'était qu'une frivolité. Mais avec tout ça, je n'ai pu m'empêcher de penser à ce peuple lointain dont j'ai entendu parler. Les Kalash du Pakistan, les descendants vivants des colons grecs qui émigrèrent dans le sous-continent indien à l’époque d’Alexandre le Grand, vous connaissez?

Comme je disais, la recette n'a pas de secret et les ingrédients sont faciles à trouver. En fin de compte, il suffit de peu pour passer une bonne soirée entre copains. Le restaurant ne fut qu'une première étape pour certains d'entre nous, il y en eut trois autres avant de nous décider à rentrer enfin...

et la prochaine fois, j'espère qu'il y aura bien plus de copains à bord.

Red ribbon story

2007-12-01T12:28:00.001+01:00

I received this Ruban rouge pin in a gay bar last night. How I got there is a rather long story I will have to tell you some other time, 'cos I'm running late now.

In fact, we all have more important things to do today. Please wear your own red ribbon and meet me down town.

Journée mondiale de lutte contre le sida - 01/12/07 Originally uploaded by MKWM

"SIDA... mour on parlait?"

A French lesson (for Joliet Jake)

2007-11-15T19:01:00.000+01:00

On ne dit pas mon corridor, mais mon corps se repose. On ne dit pas c'est l'Amazone, mais c'est là que j'habite. On ne dit pas un ouvre-boîte, mais un portier de night-club. On ne dit pas il est chétif, mais il est chez le coiffeur. On ne dit pas la maîtresse d'école, mais l'institutrice prend l'avion. On ne dit pas jerrycan, mais je rigole. On ne dit pas le ton monte, mais la fille moche prend l'ascenseur. On ne dit pas javelliser, mais j'ai lu. On ne dit pas un ingrat, mais un nain gros. On ne dit pas le petit poucet, mais le gosse était constipé. On ne dit pas mine de rien, mais gisement épuisé. On ne dit pas démanger, mais vomir. On ne dit pas un poète, mais un klaxon. On ne dit pas un enfoiré, mais une année de perdue. On ne dit pas une biroute, mais une route à deux voies. On ne dit pas dégâts des eaux, mais des marins. On ne dit pas je suis paniquée, mais je cherche un mec. On ne dit pas adéquation, mais y a-t-il des questions. On ne dit pas je suppute, mais je suis péripatéticienne. On ne dit pas je suis très sain, mais j'aime les gros nichons. On ne dit pas un conquistador, mais un imbécile narcissique. On ne dit pas j'ai vaincu, mais je suis pluri-anal. On ne dit pas faire des vendanges, mais péter comme un Dieu. On ne dit pas un microprocesseur, mais un petit prof. On ne dit pas un oenologue, mais un sexologue. On ne dit pas un homme hors pair, mais un eunuque. On ne dit pas couper le beurre, mais circoncire. On ne dit pas barbecue, mais poils aux fesses. On ne dit pas la bonne paella, mais la femme de ménage est absente. On ne dit pas mélodie en sous-sol, mais gare la voiture au parking souterrain. On ne dit pas je tripote, mais j'ai trois amis. On ne dit pas le processus de paix est enclenché, mais je vais lâcher une caisse. On ne dit pas c'est alligator, mais c'est Mouloud qui a raison. On ne dit pas un pinailleur, mais un mari infidèle.

Shape up or ship out

2007-11-13T23:56:00.000+01:00

I have it on good authority that, early in the morning, someone will be checking this place in view of finding something new to read. Although I warned that lovely person she would probably have to sip her cuppa reading elsewhere, I decided to write a couple of lines, wishing her a very nice day :-)

In case you were wondering, I'll have you know the shaping up is on its way...

Interlude

2007-11-07T00:18:00.000+01:00

Shaggy & shaggier dog stories

2007-09-21T17:21:00.000+02:00

I have started a book that had been standing on a shelf for too long. I mean I finally started it from the beginning, as pages 103-104, 146-147 and 148-149 were the only I had read so far. Now all I miss is Tippler's, Zoe's and Daphne's autograph on those very pages. Mind you, I have two copies, and I expect a different dedication in each Shaggy Blog Stories, am I asking too much?

Although these stories are highly entertaining, the reading made me fall asleep, as usual. Don't ask me what I dreamed about, I simply don't remember any dreams lately. I don't get enough sleep and getting up in the mornings to go to work is rather painful.

But Goth didn't ask about my 'normal' dreams but what my strange dreams are made of. Like in anybody else's, sex, pursuits and very odd things are involved.

Shaggier dog stories

I often had nightmares when I was little. I had this recurrent dream of a man with an axe, in our neighbourhood in Forest, chasing me and my brother and sisters in the streets. When said man would catch one of them, I would stand totally helpless, covering my ears with my hands not to hear the cries and yelling. It was horrible and I was relieved to wake up, seeing them sleeping in the same bedroom, safe and sound.

I once woke up with my arms pointing to the ceiling. I was simply dreaming of the class gathering in the school yard. Discipline was tough in those years, teachers used to make us stand in lines, stretch our arms forward to reach the shoulders of the pupil standing in front of us and then we would march in perfectly formed ranks into the classroom.

The weirdest thing during those schooldays was this recurrent dream where I was seeing myself going to the loo, and thinking I had actually arrived therein, I would simply wet my bed. Totally shameful, needless to say my sisters hated me for waking them up to clean my mess.

After all, that might not have been the weirdest of all in those days. I dreamt about a blonde Spaniard classmate standing on an ice field, wearing a bikini, with a huge colourful butterfly on her nose. I can’t remember what exactly she was telling me but I haven’t forgotten that strange dream and I still can’t explain its meaning. Besides, I don’t think anybody could, if only dreams have a meaning, that is.

Being an adult, I dreamt about merciless Spartan warriors chasing me and other unknown people. I was running and hiding and could feel the fear for my life so much that I woke up in a cold sweat... just like when having intense and unfinished passionate dreams involving sex.

I used to live in my village in Greece and got to attend many funerals. The coffins remain open until they reach the grave. Yes, they do. And no, it doesn’t scare me to touch a cold body. One night, I saw my ex-husband laying in a coffin, wearing his wedding suit, looking pretty dead. As I approached, he started talking to me. That scene was quite a shock and I woke up right after his unexpected move. I couldn’t help telling him about my dream the following morning. Very bad idea actually, yet another fight started... I just can’t live my dreams and shut up, can I?

These strange dreams are engraved in my memory, like the few involving my deceased mother. I’ve only seen her in four or five dreams since 1980. Despite being woken up by the emotion I felt when it happened, being aware I am dreaming of her and that it hardly ever happens, I always managed to make my lovely dream continue. I sure hope I can have that lucid dream again.

"One of the most adventurous things left us is to go to bed. For no one can lay a hand on our dreams." - E. V. Lucas

Breaking news

2007-09-16T18:41:00.000+02:00

The legislative election 2007 is today's headline in Greece. Much to my regret, I could not travel to my native country in order to vote but I rejoyce as I currently watch the exit poll results.

The official and final results will only be known later tonight but I already guess I will be raising a glass to the new ND government.

Having lived in Greece during two decades, I sure know why I have developed a penchant for blue, which has become my favourite colour.

Alone together

2007-09-15T19:03:00.001+02:00

*♫♪♫♪♫♪ ringtone ♫♪♫♪♫♪*

Me: Allô... oui Anna, tu es où?

Anna: Ze soui devan lotel devil, è toua?

Me: Ah bon, ben moi aussi, mais je ne te vois pas...

Anna: Tou è deza ala grran plas?

Me: Mais oui, je suis devant l'hôtel de ville, comme convenu.

Anna: Moua ossi.

Me: *scrutinising the surroundings from East to West* Il n'y a pas deux hôtels de ville quand même. C'est pas possible, tu dois être en face, de l'autre côté.

Anna: Ze soui devan lotel devil.

Me: *taking a 180° south turn, finally facing Anna who is sitting on the cobblestones, looking everywhere but in front of her * Anna, regarde en face de toi!

Anna: Aaaah, tou è la, ha ha ha...

Then we hung off. Very funny indeed. Well, it would have been if it wasn't the upteenth time you read about two people calling each other while they are merely a couple of feet away.

I'm sure you must have noticed that days are getting shorter and that it's dark already after 8 o'clock. We are therefore excused, I didn't see her coming behind me and she failed to see me as I was dressed in black.

Anna: Zai pa ou le tam de emprrime le plann. Alorr ze ne se pa parr ou onn doua allè mai onn va demanndè.

Great, we had found each other but we still had to find the way to the place we were going to. Neither Anna nor I had taken the time to have a look at a map, we both had such a busy day.

Me: Tu te rappelles du nom de la rue au moins?

Yes, Anna did remember the name of the street and a policeman told us it was the first on the right, so we arrived at the Music Village and sat at our reserved table for two, just in front of the podium.

As you may have guessed by the transcription of her slavic accent, Anna is a foreigner and I take great pleasure in making my colleague practice French for over a year now. Last night, our conversation was jazzed up by the C. Loos / S. Mercier quartet. Oh, and Belgian beer too, of course, which made us switch to English after Anna's third one, that is when her French became utterly unintelligible.

Although I've always liked jazz, I think this was my first live experience, unless there was one before the age of twenty that I can't possibly remember. Nor can I recall being so close to gay bars... there were at least two across the street. I kept looking at those guys in between the sets, while having a smoke outside -I hasten to add that smoking is allowed in that lovely place, it's just that our table was in the "wrong" area. I must say I like gays, they are usually very friendly to women, who sometimes bemoan the fact that attractive men can be gay.

Back to the Music Village, where the quartet was really smoking in the second set and whoever talked loudly was being shushed. Those who stayed until the end of the third one were rewarded with a long improvisation, closing a fine musical evening.

I particularly liked the Unknown mallow and a tune called Alone together, referring to a relationship wherein one feels alone, despite having a companion, as explained by the composer.

That's not my case anymore but I reckon it must also apply to people in general. Aren't we sometimes alone together out there?

Soft bloggers

2007-09-13T22:09:00.000+02:00

In the morning, when I don't snooze too much and can find what to wear in less than twenty minutes, I manage to arrive at a reasonable time at Trône underground station to find and grab a copy of the metro.

From time to time, I also take the Dutch copy in view of brushing up my Flemish. I have noticed that, in the two linguistic versions, the various articles are on different pages and some topics can't be found at all. French and Flemish speaking people must have divergent interests and opinions, so what else is new here in Belgium?

Today, this article made me realise the blogosphere is much wider than I thought, and reading its last line, I immediately thought of a 44 year old I know. I wonder whether SHE who hates exclamations marks knows about it.

Micro-Soft blogging? Not my cup of tea, I'm afraid. I like it here. It's quite cosy, the template matches my lino and curtains, making me feel pretty much at home. I wouldn't change a single thing, I don't want a fancy counter or any other featured gadget, I like to keep it simple.

Spaces dot live dot com might be attractive for you readers who think about joining in. So why don't you have a try at Blogger first?

Everyone is welcome right here, in my own soft space.

Dear Vida, you ought to be my first guest. I give you the floor.

It's a small world after all

2007-09-10T22:35:00.000+02:00

September means going back to school, to work, and finally, going back to the nearest to work gym club because I do want my thinner waist back. There I was tonight, sitting in front of my Flemish personal trainer, confessing I couldn't possibly remember the last proper workout. Lazy me just went to take the hammam's temperature lately. Frankly, I had no excuse for wasting the efforts made last spring, but as of today, all will be back on track.

I was hesitating between taking the bus or the metro to go home and eventually went for the latter. Wise choice, because the nice bloke with the extraordinary shoes I had met a couple of days ago at the birthday party was sitting in the train that arrived as soon as I found myself in the underground. Small world, isn't it?

I opened the door, stood smiling in front of him, shook his hand and sat next to him. Apparently, he was trying to remember my name but I couldn't possibly hold that against him, because I don't remember the names of all the people I met either, they were so many... Maybe he was simply wondering where on earth he had seen that face before, or even worse, he couldn't remember me at all...

Taking a close look at his shoes didn't seem a trick good enough to refresh his memory. You see, that's how I started talking to him at the party. You don't get to see a pair full of St George flag miniatures everyday, do you? Anyway, we chatted as much as we could until the next station and wished each other a pleasant evening. I hope to see him again, he is such a friendly fellow.

For me, September also means being one year older. These last twelve months brought me a lot of new friends. After all, if not smaller, the world is just getting brighter.

Kαι του χρόνου…

2007-09-09T19:57:00.000+02:00

I finally start typing after staring at a blank page for a long while. It’s not that I lack in inspiration today, it simply took me a lot of time to recall what happened at Tippler & Laura’s birthday party.

Don’t get me wrong... I was not trying hard to remember what exactly happened. Whith a broad smile, I was reviving the party from the beginning to the end, or should I say until the moment I left this morning, because it was not quite over yet when I decided it was about time to go home.

No unnecessary details revealed here, just plenty of wonderful souvenirs to keep to myself, which will definitely make me smile whenever I remember that great bash. One of the highlights was the rather short but outstanding opening address delivered by our host, after which we all raised a glass to Love and Friendship.

Another one was getting to know new friends better and making the acquaintance of lovely people such as, to name but a few, la petite fée Clochette, a nice bloke wearing extraordinary shoes and a permanent smile, a truly nice person called Joe -a totally unsuspected reader of mine to whom I dedicate this post- and last but not least, a man who took me to the moon and back.

Jamais deux sans trois

2007-09-06T00:29:00.001+02:00

Strange messages were sent to me lately. I received the first one on 19 August, at precisely 23:43:13. Right, it woke me up and I couldn't go back to sleep for a while, wondering who on Earth could have sent it to me. The anonymous text went like this:

"Sorry maria. You must be very kind but i do nöt remember you at all. Thanks for the lovely note and all the best."

That is indeed my name, and I must be very kind since I didn't call that Belgian number, yelling at that person for waking me up. But I didn't write any note to anyone, so... what was this all about?

The next day, I concluded the message had been sent to me by mistake and thought of "warning" its author. I started texting back but changed my mind and rather chose to ignore it.

I received a second similar text on 2 September at 18:59:21. Same number, same puzzlement. At least it wasn't midnight this time, there was some improvement.

"Hi maria. I do not remember you but you are absolutely very kind. Best regards."

This time, I answered back: "I don't remember you either. In fact, I don't know who you are."

And the following reply came a while later: "That is good. No need to seek further. I wish you a wonderful evening maria, the stranger. Adieu."

No need to seek further, adieu?? Phew... and good riddance too. Or so I thought...

Jamais deux sans trois, apparently. This Wednesday at lunchtime, as I was peacefully enjoying a cup of coffee with two colleagues, the third message troubled me a lot and really made me wonder who is behind all this.

This time, the tone and content were not at all the same: "Dear mr mistery man. It is 13h30. I will not ask you again to be fair, correct and civilized. You can surbordinate those who allow you and even break their spirit because of foolishness and greed but to reduce the universe to your insignificant size yo need to target the Ahab and the Jezebel. I will not contact you again."

What the hell?! You'd better not contact me again, you idiot.

But he or she just has, at precisely 20 past midnight, while I'm writing about it. Jamais deux sans trois, or more, obviously. Same message as above, preceded with "Copy to all".

I have the feeling this text I just received won't be the last. Enough is enough, though, I've had it. It might not be possible for me to find out right now to whom that number belongs, but let us not forget that a mobile can easily be located, along with the person who is using it. Mistery weirdo, you have been warned...

Silence is golden

2007-08-29T20:00:00.000+02:00

The Greek post was a call for a silent demonstration that I received by email. It was about a silent protest, which explains why no comments were allowed. We may not have been able to join in, but we will at least have observed silence for the 6364 victims. I am dismayed by the catastrophy and the aftermath. I wish politicians remembered that words are silver and silence is golden.

Γ Ι A T I ;

2007-08-29T19:00:00.000+02:00

Τετάρτη 29 Αυγούστου, στις 7 η ώρα το απόγευμα θα συγκεντρωθούμε όλοι στην πλατεία Συντάγματος αλλά και σε κάθε κεντρική πλατεία κάθε πόλης σε ολόκληρη τη χώρα.

Φορώντας μαύρα.

ΒΟΥΒΗ ΟΡΓΗ.

ΕΚΚΩΦΑΝΤΙΚΗ ΣΙΩΠΗ.

Αποδοκιμάζουμε χωρίς συνθήματα και πολύχρωμες σημαίες. Πενθούμε για την απώλεια των συνανθρώπων μας χωρίς να συνδέουμε την πρωτοφανή περιβαλλοντική καταστροφή με προεκλογικές σκοπιμότητες. Δίνουμε το παρόν και στεκόμαστε απειλητικά απέναντι σε οποιονδήποτε επιχειρήσει να εκμεταλλευτεί την τραγωδία για οποιοδήποτε όφελος.

ΤΟ ΠΟΤΗΡΙ ΞΕΧΕΙΛΙΣΕ.

σαν-ΥΠΟΓΡΑΦΗ

Ποίηση Είναι ο Μαγικός Εκείνος Χώρος, στον οποίο Αποτυπώνεται η Λανθάνουσα έστω, κοινή όμως Ανθρώπινη Ανάγκη για Ουρανό (Σαχτούρης)

Update

2007-08-23T21:49:00.000+02:00

My holiday in Greece went fine, just fine.

Sea, ~~sex~~kids and sun during three whole weeks. Bliss.

Along with the postcard, I have a piece of advice for you: reading this, you'll learn about mobile phone calls while abroad. "Considerably cheaper from summer 2007" ? Maybe, if only I had had the opportunity to acquire a "vodafone passport" before leaving. Yes indeed, I received a huge phone bill today, and I'm now at the bottom of a second Triple Leffe, trying to forget about those bloody roaming charges, not to mention the dreadful weather. Right, yet another day in Paradise, as Spanish Goth would say, and so I did get the beers in.

Well, you can't possibly go out every day, can you? I was out last night, going straight from work to the pub for ONE drink... and ended up having several. (Damn true, dear colleague, I am weak at times, especially when in good company).

The usual pub, with the usual crowd but someone I had already met numerous times turned to be the new kid on the blog. He was glad to meet a reader and I was pleased to meet Tom Joad, in flesh and fine words. No, no, no, I won't reveal his identity. I'm not THAT weak, you know.

Unplugged

2007-06-28T22:09:00.000+02:00

À l’instar de Dip-Dop-Crabtree, suite à une overdose d’anglais,

ayant définitivement perdu mon grec et le latin.

Une multitude de pensées se bousculent dans ma petite tête. J’ai si souvent voulu les écrire mais, quand le temps ou la connexion ne manquaient pas, le moment ne s’y prêtait pas.

Les deux derniers mois se résument de la sorte : sorties, excursions, long week-end en Angleterre, nouvelles rencontres et beaucoup de travail au bureau. Un moment privilégié fut une fin de semaine passée avec mes sœurs et frère, ce qui n’arrive que trop rarement. J’espère que nous n’aurons pas à battre le record de 18 ans écoulés avant de nous retrouver à quatre.

Événements remarquables à noter également, deux prestations en plein air avec l’ensemble vocal, qui se réunira à nouveau après les vacances d’été : participation à une fête de quartier et à l’union de deux charmantes jeunes femmes. Nous avons chanté de tout cœur pour elles, leurs familles et invités, et nous avons été chaleureusement applaudis par les habitants de cette rue d’Ixelles qui avait été fermée à la circulation, afin de leur permettre de faire la fête entre voisins, quel merveilleux concept !

Euh, oui, bien sûr… A signaler aussi, plus de deux mois de célibat bel et bien enterré, d’où l’overdose d’anglais, vu que je ne parle pratiquement plus que ça. Je vous le disais bien, j’en ai perdu le latin, d’autant plus que je travaille dans un milieu « multiculturel », où l’on peut lire et entendre plusieurs langues différentes à longueur de journée, ce qui peut provoquer un échauffement des méninges, voire un court-circuit cérébral.

Ce soir, je voulais avoir la paix, toute la paix, rien que la paix. Je voulais, dans le calme plat et dans un peu de solitude bien méritée, prendre le temps de vous écrire et puis de vous lire plus longuement, et enfin publier mes photos. Je voulais aussi penser aux vacances que je n’ai pas encore organisées, mais dont la destination est déjà connue… c’est le pays que j’ai quitté, il y a cinq ans déjà.

Devinette

2007-06-07T00:42:00.000+02:00

Dear me, I almost forgot my login and password. It has been such a long while...

Anyway, guess where I took this picture and I'll give you one of the two large jars of Branston pickle I brought back last Monday.

Of course, you must live in Brussels, do I really need to point this out? Please note I already gave you a hint here.

(No J, your answer would NOT be taken into consideration and I'd better find at least one of the pasties in the fridge tomorrow night or else you will be in big trouble, I kid you not).

"There is time for everything" (T. Edison)

2007-05-24T19:24:00.000+02:00

In Brom Man's "Useful Stuff - Tips for bloggers", I found no answer whatsoever to my "finding time to blog" query. Not a single topic related post.

What I have missed most of all during this last month is not at all my writing here but to be able to read and comment on your posts. I must admit you have become a part of my world, and to be kept away from the expression of your thoughts and feelings has created moments of emptiness in my daily life.

I miss you, I really do... But in fact, the answer is quite simple:

I will have to TAKE the time, instead of wishing time could stop.

There is time for everything, isn't there?

2007-05-14T18:38:00.000+02:00

Alive and well (and very happy too) - stop - been adbucted by English gentleman - stop - will soon find way to resume normal service - stop - miss you All - stop - Much love, M.

Un brin d' bonheur

2007-05-01T14:08:00.000+02:00

'... Le premier Mai c'est pas gai,

Je trime a dit le muguet,

Dix fois plus que d'habitude,

Regrettable servitude.

Muguet, sois pas chicaneur,

Car tu donnes du bonheur,

Pas cher à tout un chacun.

Brin d' muguet, tu es quelqu'un. ...'

Georges Brassens

My favourite rugby player

2007-04-25T23:58:00.000+02:00

Although Graham only introduced him to me this morning,

Connah has already become my favourite rugby player.

Scherzando, con brio

2007-04-15T11:30:00.000+02:00

I was supposed to be enjoying a boat & bike ride in Brussels today but my brother's plan "fell in the water", as we say in French. In other words, our Sunday cruise with Rivertours.be was cancelled, or just postponed if you prefer. Brussels by Waters was advertised everywhere lately, and with such a lovely weather we're having these days, I'm not surprised there were not enough bikes left to rent.

My brother's family and his friends have an alternative already, they are going to watch a rugby match in Boistfort. So what else is new... and I shouldn't have written "his family AND his friend" but rather is huge family, because that's what they are, all members of a same clan. Have you clicked on that link yet? See the one behind the coach in that vets' team? Well, he's my 45 year old brother. Years ago, he used to drag me to the La Hulpe field (oh, there he is again, on the far right, sporting another tartan this time).

I'm not at all complaining, actually. As a matter of fact, I enjoyed very much being taken along, it was a pleasure being a pom pom girl and having a drink altogether in the club house, what they call la troisième mi-temps. Now you understand why Daphne's post brought cheerful memories to me and why I can't help watching that Gods calendar over and over again.

Anyway, staying home suits me fine after all, because I have to get ready for a concert tonight. Before waxing my upper lip and ironing my black & red outfit, I need to rehearse the six songs we shall be singing tonight. Five at the opening, a cappella, and one at the closing, with the piano. Yep, my little choir is performing tonight, and on next Tuesday too. Oh no, I'm not at all stressed... It won't be my first public performance. Haven't you seen me fooling around before?

These fellow singers are damn good... and twice as many as we are.

Enjoy. As for me, I'd better warm my voice up...

Shush

2007-04-14T10:15:00.000+02:00

“Silences make the real
conversations between friends.
Not the saying but the never needing
to say is what counts.”

Margaret Lee

Runbeck

SCOOP

2007-04-09T23:54:00.000+02:00

Easter Holiday is already ending and I’m not that happy thinking that, as of tomorrow, the alarm clock will have to go off early in the morning again.

So... tell me the Christ has raised and I’ll believe that without having to witness it. Tell me any of the following, and I’ll believe it too:

Daphne will win a 2008 Bloggy Award;
Marianne will invite us gels to her hen party by next year or so;
Zoe will see a third satellite dish landing on her roof;
Quarsan will have a shed in the garden;
Goth Master will marry Mariposa;
Drama Queen will keep her promise and make it to the next blog do;
Lynx will eventually find a suitable gravatar pic and start his own blog;
I can sometimes be called a Doubting Thomas;
Pigs can fly (damn easy, you just shove’em on a plane).

This was a splendid very long week-end: relaxation, blogging, church crawl as JJ cleverly put it; picture hunting 'n' all that with Zoe and her Twat of a boyfriend, and meeting up with a lovely friend and former colleague on Sunday afternoon. Rendez-vous à la grecque, that is, meaning I was at least twenty minutes late (blame the blogging addiction, posting on Mannekin Pics took longer than planned). On the other hand, fate must have intervened in my being late, otherwise, ‘Scoop’ wouldn’t be the title of this entry.

Scoop dans tous les sens du terme, as Tippler will agree with me. There is the journo scoop and the other kind of scoop, which is not at all irrelevant here. There are several details I’m dying to tell but I’m sure he will highly appreciate my shutting up on this part of the matter.

On that divine sunny day (Easter Sunday, remember?), I saw Tippler and Laura walking on the Boulevard...

On that divine sunny day (Easter Sunday, remember?), I saw Tippler and Laura walking on the Boulevard...

On that divine sunny day (Easter Sunday, remember?), I saw Tippler and Laura walking on the Boulevard...

Right, you read well, and three times should be enough now. Yes, yes, yes, I saw Laura with my own eyes... You can take Saint-Thomas’ word for it, Laura is not a figment of Tippler’s imagination, she is a real person and a gorgeous woman too, may I add. The very same all regular readers had the opportunity to see, before she was “Italianised” (cf. Venus).

I know Tippler has a great sense of humour, I know we haven’t seen the last of his shenanigans yet, I know he is a fine lad, I know he is extremely kind and friendly, I know all that BUT.... what I don’t know, what I really don’t know is how he managed to pull such a lovely lady. He cheerfully said hello to me and my friend (there you go, yet another witness), smiling from ear to ear, probably because he knows there are times I just can’t shut up and would certainly write a scoop for you to read.

So there you are, Brussels posse and beyond, paranoia has not been kicking Tippler but some of us. So please forgive me, for I, the Greek Didymus, have doubted Thy Word...

This being said, trust and sanity restored, let’s go back to my rendezvous with my Belgian former colleague now working in France. Going to the cinema was originally planned, but the weather was so delightful that she suggested we wander downtown instead, enabling me to take several nice pictures, by the way.

D and I sat at Dandoy’s where we washed down our crêpes Mikado with two laits russes, talking and talking and talking... We had not seen each other for months and had a lot to tell, although we had been emailing and chatting over the phone from time to time.

Several kilometres and a couple of hours later, our promenade finally led us in front of Les Feux de Bengale, rue des Eperonniers 69 (this time, karma must have intervened...). I was so glad to finally enter an Indian restaurant for the first time ever. Pretty strange for the curry lover I am, but let’s put it this way, opportunity eventually knocks on one’s door, hence a first time for everything. The place was nicely decorated, we were kindly served tasty food and had more chitchat, but also more heart-to-heart, talking about men...

But I’d rather cut this long story short, as we came to the same conclusion and both decided to keep on living in hope. Finally, I told her about my new addictive hobbies (blogging and flickr) and the new friends I have made out of these. So I gather there must be a new reader among us as of today.

D, I am looking forward to seeing you again in the near future, in France hopefully. Meantime, enjoy the reading and the photo stream, and feel free to comment! xxx

Flickr

2007-04-06T12:13:00.001+02:00

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Sucessfully linked...

And to Mannekin Pics too.

Great, we are all set now...

Brussels, here I come.

Update - 8 April

Originally uploaded by MKWM

PI, thanks to the broken pavements or cobble stones, we actually did a three-legged race, hopping bras dessus, bras dessous...

Elaine, here are the beers. Cheers! We usually have Chimay blue label (a Belgian Trappist beer) but as they say, when in Rome, do as the Romans. So here we are in an Irish Pub in the Schuman area, enjoying a Guinness Draught, which is Irish, and rich in hops.

Yet another Mannekin Bunnies mission fully accomplished...

Red is for Passion

2007-04-05T19:30:00.000+02:00

A Romanian choir mate was telling me last night that I could use onion peels to dye my Easter eggs. So as I was searching the Internet for more info on natural colorants, I found out that some priests have become bloggers. Holy me, this world is truly beyond belief...

On the plus side, Father Joseph has already explained why eggs are tinted red and what they symbolise. Eggs-cellent, now I can swiftly go into the kitchen and start dyeing eggs, while you find yourself a good reason to celebrate Easter, should you need one.

Top Ten Reasons

10. You absolutely love the movie, "The Ten Commandments".

9. You look really, really good in yellow.

8. You just went on a low cholesterol diet and didn't want to waste all those eggs in the fridge.

7. You figure any Holiday that starts with a "Good Friday" can't be all bad.

6. You love to bite the heads off chocolate bunnies.

5. It's a good time to check out your neighbourhood church and not be noticed.

4. You have this bunny suit you love to wear, but are too insecure to wear it without a reason.

3. Even though you don't know what it is, you really like the sound of going to a "Passion Play."

2. You figured since Jesus went to all THAT trouble to make it to the first Easter, you'd give it a shot.

1. As a Christian you celebrate the resurrection every other day, why not Easter too?

Picture hunting

2007-04-01T20:04:00.000+02:00

Before you accuse me of being very lazy lately, let me point out that Mannekin Pics gladly kept me busy at least twice this week. Check it out and most of all, do join in!

Despite having lived so many years in Brussels, there are numerous things I’ve never seen or paid attention to. It must be because, when walking in the capital of Europe, one must rather focus on the pavement and pay attention to keeping his shoes clean. This city is full of surprises, I couldn’t agree more.

Picture hunting around Brussels is highly enjoyable, and wandering around with Zoe means even more fun. After many “aaaah, this is so original”, “wow, another mural”, and finally failing to find our way to the Grand Sablon (shame on us both...), we headed towards Toone for a bit of rest. I mean for a drink. Well, we had walked several kilometres and needed both. But the official picture hunting season has just begun, and we'll be out again...

No pics today, although it is Palm Sunday and going to church on such a special day would have been the opportunity to take interesting shots. But I’m afraid I purposefully missed going to church, waking up very late (there you go, I admit it, I am pretty lazy lately).

You see, I have my own philosophy as far as religious matters are concerned. I can enter any church that is open or choose not to go in at all. However, I will be going more than once this Holy Week and will most certainly be there on Good Friday, because, as far as I know, it is the only day a Greek Orthodox is allowed to sing in church and I love that beautiful hymn called “life in the grave”, Ζωή εν τάφο, for those in the know. But it is also a deeply moving ceremony altogether and the main reason for me not wanting to miss it.

Finally, other than Mannekin Bunnies hopping around (Zoe and me, that is), there is also Easter Egg Hunting in sight... Are you also looking forward to it?

25η Μαρτίου

2007-03-25T21:21:00.000+02:00

While the European Union was celebrating its

50th anniversary this 25 March,

Greece was celebrating its Independence Day.

Kilts, blue and white flags...

Mmmh.... where have I seen those before?

Tagged on Thirds

2007-03-24T21:20:00.000+01:00

Aunty Marianne has tagged me and I thank her for giving me the opportunity to answer the following questions:

Three Things That Scare Me:

Anything bad that could happen to my children and people I'm fond of;
A phone ringing during night time, which usually means bad news;
The fact that people can't or just won't understand me.

Three People Who Make Me Laugh:

Myself, I really do silly things sometimes;
Numerous bloggers;
Fernandel and Bourvil, may they rest in peace.

Three Things I Love:

Being alive, through good and bad times;
Free time, enjoying peace and quiet;
The bagpipe and the Scottish landscape.

Three Things I Hate:

Having only three answers to give to each of these questions;
Grey skies and cold weather;
Being alone when I have so much love to give.

Three Things I Don't Understand:

Why some people are not as patient as I am;
Why I always put other people’s interests before mine;
Why men are so scared of women and why I don't have a boyfriend.

Three Things On My Desk:

At home:

An empty mug and an ashtray:
A pile of papers, namely bills paid via net banking;
Dust.

In office:

A terrible mess consisting of stacks of useless paper files;
Hidden in a corner, my ‘best 40 year old’ mug I never use because it would need washing up about 5 times every day;
L&M lights on top of my wallet.

No pictures of people I love but I must mention a saffon flower picture, my native region’s flag and Van Gogh’s Starry night on the wall I’m facing all week day long.

Three Things I'm Doing Right Now:

Wondering what time I’ll turn in tonight since I slept all day long, typing my answers to these questions with my ten fingers, listening to the radio;
Smoking my last cigarette and thinking I’ll have to get dressed and go to the night shop. Not only do I need fags, some white wine would make my evening more pleasant;
Thinking there are many places I could be instead of staying home alone.

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

Grow older with the man I love;
Do whatever I can to make this world a better place, make people around me feel happy;
Visit a couple of far away places, such as Japan, Canada or Australia, and have a holiday in a tropical island.

Three Things I Can Do:

Express myself better in writing than orally;
Make a mess of my life, always falling for the “wrong” guy;
Cook in large quantities, not because I eat much, I mean cook for up to 20 people for instance.

Three Things I Can't Do:

Shut up. I must always have the last word;
Take the “right” decision;
Find a third answer when there are so many things I can't do...

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:

The piece of advice your friends, your parents or I would give you;
The sound of silence;
Whatever you fancy. This is a free world, after all.

Three Things I'd Like To Learn:

Ballroom and more folk dance;
Finally learn to play the guitar (it started and ended when I was a teenager);
Martial arts.

Three Favourite Foods:

Asian food in general;
Chicken & rice soup, stuffed cabbage leaves & stuffed green peppers and tomatoes, my favourite Greek meals;
Junk food: Manon café / Cornet de frites + sauce Andalouse / paprika crisps

Three Wonderful People to Inflict My Meme On:

Toone the Tippler, just to piss him off once again;
Dip Dop Crabtree and
Kissme, in view of getting to know them better.

Questions I omitted:

Three Shows I Watched As A Kid:

Sesame Street;
The Muppet Show;
La petite maison dans la prairie.

Three things you should never listen to:

Anyone who would say you are useless;
Your children or friends yelling at you;
The flattering words of a man who had too much to drink.

Scotchée à Paname

2007-03-22T22:40:00.003+01:00

Hello there, Bagpiper! I'm not sure you looked more surprised than anyone who happened to be visiting the Sacré Coeur that day. I was not. I knew I'd find you up there. In fact, you guys drove me to Paris last week-end. I travelled with the Thalys very early in the morning in order to arrive on time for the défilé franco-écossais.

That train is so fast that one doesn't even have the time to take a proper nap. You just find yourself in Paris Nord before you know it. Then all you have to do is take the metropolitain: ligne 4 direction Porte de Clignancourt, change for ligne 2 direction Porte Dauphine at Barbès Rochechouart and get off at Anvers.

But that's not what I did... I first went to Rome to drop my suitcase at the hotel reception and dashed back to Anvers. Oh come on, you can't possibly get lost! Get a Paris Visite metro/train/bus pass, a map, and off you go wherever you fancy.

Along with many other people gathered on the esplanade, I followed the défilé, marching at pace to the sound of their drums. I know I could have followed those pipers all around the world but we had to stop at place des Abbesses, after passing by several streets through Montmartre. You should love this particular spot, just have a look...

Day 1 to 3, you would have found me there. The Sacred Hill is so enchanting. Admire Paris standing at your feet. Let the bagpipers add a bit more colour and breathe the special atmosphere in the cobbled streets. Time to climb down now... But I returned several times over there and couldn't help entering the magnificent Basilica every time I did, at night also, just to have the pleasure to sit silently in this haven of peace, admiring the vitraux, either in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary or under the impressive huge mosaic picturing her beloved Son.

When I stumbled across one of my Brussels choir companion in a metro station, I once again realised our world is actually very small. Inevitably, I was sermoned for not telling her I would be visiting her native city that week-end. Truth is I didn't even know I would be going to Paris when I last met her and would never imagine to find her there, paying a visit to her parents. C was kind enough to spend some time with me, guiding me through this huge city.

We eventually sat down for a drink in Saint-Germain des Prés, which gave us the opportunity to watch the second half time of the rugby match. A French girl supporting her national team is absolutely normal, but don't try to find a reasonable explanation to the fact that I turned the Scottish flag I had received earlier into a napkin on our table. It must be because I love Scotland very much, that's all. As we were rehearsing last night, she couldn't help telling all the choir members about the French Victory and how sadly I was forced to fold the flag after the Scottish defeat...

Right after the match, we had to split for a while. I had to do the proper check in at my hotel before meeting her at Chartier for dinner. There I arrived with a look of victory all over me, as I managed to find my way alone, using three different metro lines. That restaurant is a wonderful place indeed, a must. Now I know where to eat when I'll be visiting again, and I sure know about a couple of restaurants to avoid at all cost.

It was raining heavily on Sunday and it seems all tourists took shelter in a famous museum. Scots were still all around the City of Lights... even in the Louvre, as you can see. This Palace is full of treasures but is also a treasure in itself. I finally got acquainted to Venus and Mona Lisa, and after having walked for hours through any piece of art you can imagine, I headed towards Notre Dame and visited the Quartier Latin. I turned in rather early that evening, listening to the hail knocking on my window.

I wandered through Père Lachaise cemetery on Monday morning, paying my respects to Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, Molière, La Fontaine, Gilbert Bécaud and Edith Piaf, to name but a few. You can easily guess where I spent my last hours in Paris... Le Sacré Coeur just stole my heart.

After having lived in Paris only three days, Brussels looks like a village to me and I already miss Montmartre (let alone the bagpipers), the crowded boulevards and the Parisian atmosphere, so it won't be long until I board the Thalys again.

Next time, YOU might come along.

It is written on this poster: j'attends quelqu'un...

**************************************

le deagh dhùrachd

*******************************

Fluctuat nec mergitur

2007-03-19T22:37:00.000+01:00

I will only say this for the time being: Paris is wonderful.

Enjoy the pictures, they are worth a thousand words.

Lothian & Borders Police Pipe Band of Edinburgh

Place des Abbesses - 17 mars 2007

Le Louvre

La Seine

Le cimetière du Père Lachaise

La Tour Eiffel, vue depuis le dôme du Sacré-Coeur

L'Arc de Triomphe

Lutèce

2007-03-16T19:15:00.000+01:00

Meuh non enfin, ce n'est pas pour vous rendre jaloux!

Du tout, du tout...

Je vous disais bien que je vous y emmènerais!

Départ de bonne heure demain matin,

de retour à Bruxelles lundi soir.

Si vous n'êtes pas à l'heure à la gare,

je partirai sans vous.

Your chance to win a city-trip

2007-03-09T23:48:00.000+01:00

The spring is around the corner. I should feel fine but I don't. At all. Don't ask me why, it would be too long to tell.

I need a couple of days off, far away from Brussels. A long week-end, a couple of week days, whatever, wherever.

I'd hate going alone so I need a guide. You may share my hotel room but I might snore so you could insist on having your own. I'm offering a city-trip in Belgium or somewhere in Europe. Of course, I will have the final word on the destination and the winner. For instance, les Ardennes, London, Paris, Dublin or Prague would be nice... like a handsome man between 40 and 50 (the romantic kitchen, please), but I'm open to any other propositions.

I'm drunk but I'm kidding you not. I will keep my word, I always do.

Brussels inhabitants only as interviews and further arrangements will take place here. Applications by email by 10 pm on 13 March. Many thanks in advance.

I wonder whether there will be a lucky winner. I might have to go alone, after all. Heigh ho.

Nous les femmes

2007-03-08T00:20:00.000+01:00

Nous ferons la une de l'actualité aujourd'hui et vous aurez l'occasion d'apprendre tout ce qu'il y a à savoir sur l'origine de cette journée de manifestations à travers le monde, revendiquant l'égalité des femmes et faisant un bilan sur leur situation.

C'est donc l’occasion de vous parler de quelques femmes exceptionnelles qui ont marqué l'Histoire de mon pays d'origine mais... ce sera pour une prochaine fois, je peux toujours faire entendre leur voix tous les jours de l'année.

Quant au bilan de ma situation, il devra attendre, lui aussi. Car ce soir, à défaut de moitié, j'ai hâte de me retrouver enlacée dans les bras de Morphée.

No pain, no gain

2007-02-28T00:59:00.000+01:00

I have seen many naked bodies lately... I stumble into topless or bottomless women. Quite often, they are shamelessly walking around, naked from top to bottom. I try keeping my eyes on the floor but not seeing them is simply impossible. I felt surprised and rather uncomfortable the first time but I got used to it by the second one. I see them and they see me. No big deal. One might add it is a direct and fair exchange of views.

As soon as I walk in the changing room, I choose a locker and start undressing, then off I go, wearing my training suit, holding my bottle of water and a towel. One can see me wrapped in a larger one when I exit the shower. Never before had I found myself in a fitness club. Highly recommended... if you are not shy and prude, which I am not.

Once a week, I meet my personal trainer who is a qualified physiotherapist. After a first theoretical lesson, he finally made me sweat last Thursday and that was not due to him showing me and making me touch his abdominal muscles. I simply had to make mine work... There I was, following his instructions, taking very ‘interesting’ positions in a crowded place. “You have a very nice posture” he told me. Well thanks, coach... I’ve always loved gym and this is far from being a chore for me.

I had done my routine alone before and all in all, I did about two hours of hard work out that evening. Suffice it to say I was in a pitiful state the next day... I must say I feel better already and look forward to going as often as possible. Of course I must take it easy but I already feel my body is starting to respond to my physical efforts, not to mention that I smoke much less than I used to. My physical condition is improving and it is a real pleasure.

I haven’t tried the sauna yet, nor the hammam but the latter is ‘mixte’, meaning men and women go together in there. I wonder whether they go naked. I guess I will have to find that out soon enough. Meanwhile, I might have another greeting, another broad smile and another goodbye wink from the handsome man rowing just in front of me while I was pedalling earlier tonight.

P-h-w-o-a-r.... I told you already, no pain, no gain.

International Mother Language Day

2007-02-21T23:31:00.000+01:00

The theme of International Mother Language Day in 2007 is the linkages between mother tongue and multilingualism.
Languages play an important role in the integration process in all aspects of public life but especially education.

However, thousands of the world's 6,000 languages are absent from the public arena and fifty per cent are in danger of disappearing altogether.

The disappearance of any language is an irreparable loss for the heritage of all humankind.

In my opinion, my MT is not likely to disappear in the foreseeable future...

La vie c'est comme une dent

La vie, c'est comme une dent

D'abord on y a pas pensé

On s'est contenté de mâcher

Et puis ça se gâte soudain

Ca vous fait mal, et on y tient

Et on la soigne et les soucis

Et pour qu'on soit vraiment guéri

Il faut vous l'arracher, la vie

Κ - Λ - Μ

2007-02-18T13:40:00.000+01:00

My... third birthday, apparently

My brother and sisters might want to kill me when they find out about this... They know nothing about the blog yet. A little tang of well-deserved revenge perhaps, because they've always been picking on me. I was the little one, as you can see.

Do you know why I hate that dress my eldest sister is wearing on this picture? Well, because all three of us had the same one. But this is not the only reason. When I couldn't fit in mine anymore, I got to wear my sister's V dress, and when I grew up a little more, I got to wear my sister's C dress. So I've been wearing the "same dress" for ages and this is the reason I haven't forgotten it, this is the reason I hate it so much. I've inherited their clothes all my life, I still do... History keeping repeating itself, we have also been saving and giving each other our children's clothes, so there is the same kind of heritage between cousins.

I can't be too sure this picture was taken in Brussels but the fact is that I was about that age when we moved to the capital and when my paternal grandfather travelled to Belgium to visit us. No grandma here, she passed away when my father was little. I have recollection of the first kindergarten I was going to and I also remember clearly the day when my father took us all four to another school for the first time, when we had moved in another "commune". I must have been four or five then and at the time, there were still classes on Saturday mornings as well.

My parents were both working so we were often alone at home when back from school. Not completely alone really, bossy C was in charge, always patronising the younger ones. My brother N is two years older and also a Virgo. We sisters are still jealous of his beautiful grey-blue eyes. Being very close, N and I formed the team that would always try to pick on the elder one, formed by V and C. They are respectively four and six years older than me, this was a huge difference between us girls when we were younger. Can you imagine what a 10 year old girl can do with a 14 and 16 year old? Plain nothing, apart from fighting all the time, of course, especially since we had to share the same room.

We lived in the same apartment for about 13 years before my sisters left, then my mother died, my brother and I moved out later on, then V moved back... The few who had remained moved out once and for all around 1985 I think. I have sooooo many memories there that I often pass by that house, which is not far from my current place. This commune in Brussels is actually "my home town". Passing by E.F. Street makes me recall, in random order:

the best friend I used to spend a lot of time with, the one who graciously shared her many books and toys with me (God bless you A, wherever you may be);
all the kids who lived in that part of the street and our get-togethers in gangs, the games we played, the walks we took, exploring further neighbourhoods;
the historic moment when man walked on the moon;
the day I learned to drive a bike;
the first boy who kissed my lips on the doorstep;
a great deal of my mischiefs....

Handsome brother N has never left Brussels, V married an Englishman and lives in England, C married a Scotsman and now lives in California. Me? Pah... you don't want to know, really...

I Blog Therefore I Am (AM ©)

2007-02-17T20:19:00.000+01:00

There are plenty of places at square du Lux where you can eat, drink and be merry but let’s stick to lucky number 7 that is "O' Flannell's". Little wonder Tippler chose this particular place as our meeting point last Thursday evening, it is probably the favourite of his many second residences.

Right after a long tiring day's work nearby, I arrived on the premises before 8 pm to be warmly welcomed by our evening host. Nice haircut, T, you do look much younger, have yet another haircut, by all means, Laura would appreciate her toyboy even more. By the way, it is a pity we were not given the opportunity to meet the object of your lust in person...

In the absence of a hostess, Kiwi Ed kept me good company before I was introduced to gregarious Aunty Marianne who was already sipping a G&T with lime whilst Tippler was examining her classy walking stick... and much more than that, it goes without saying.

Kiwi Ed is UP Front’s webmaster and Tippler’s best mate. He is also a fanatic book reader, who is usually rather silent and captivated by his books’ real or imaginary world he's travelling into. Kiwi Ed is a fine man, rather quiet and sometimes looking a tad helpless, like a lost child. But this is the reason why he is the kind of man whose immense sweetness and blamelessness makes you feel like taking him by the hand and walking him back home in order to tuck him in, singing a lullaby after reading him a bed time story.

Tarquin, the young and talented UP Front photographer, was in attendance but we didn’t give him a flash since he was wearing his bartender hat and apron that evening. The place was packed and so we were standing at the bar when yet another UP Front member made his appearance. I had already met Aloisius months ago and have seen him many times since but I never realised he is so tall, I was rather impressed. After standing right beside me, he sat on a stool and still looked as tall as a cypress, which is not that odd, after all, considering he is a member of the press corps. A fine chap with a great sense of humour and a lovely smile, who gives much appreciated affectionate kisses on cheeks, the perfect handsome gentleman to be chosen as a double in Bond’s next movie, of which he will have of course to publish a review to the attention of the UP Front Readers. I had the opportunity to tell him we travelled on the same train to the UK last December. He confirmed having had a good time with his family during his Christmas holiday and I had to refrain a giggle when picturing him wearing a paper hat and reading out loud a fire cracker joke.... as if he wasn’t tall and humorous enough as it is...

Come to think of it, I now realise why Goth Master used the expression “Minky was cunningly disguised as a shrub” in his version of the facts. I can easily imagine that from the angle he was standing in front of the bar, having just arrived with his exquisite and beloved Mariposa, he couldn’t possibly see me behind Aloisius. As weird as it may seem, I’ll have you know that gothic elegance exists; we had the living proof amongst us.

Meanwhile, Lady Daphne had joined in, spreading her illustrious wit all around. Without a shadow of a doubt, she is a Lady, a bright and clever one may I add, who is in possession of a remarkable collection of pearls of wisdom. We had two girls nights out before and realised we have a lot in common, which made me feel I knew her for years already. The O’Flannell kitchen was already closed by the time we thought we could use another drink to wash down some food, so our dinner turned up to be one portion of chips we shared. I sure look forward to at least a traditional “paquet de frites” during our next girls’ time out in Brussels. Daphne is adorable and therefore, one can do nothing else than just become very fond of her. Her French is perfect, as well as Marianne’s, who finally took me out of the shrub in order to be introduced to Mrs Elaib who was chatting with an exceptional butterfly also known as Mariposa.

I had been wondering for a while who this gorgeous person could be. I was not aware of her presence that very day, as England was expected to be entertained by Tippler alone the next evening. So the lovely couple appeared to be eventually able to join us on Thursday, to our great pleasure. Elaib arrived later on, as smart as can be. He is undeniably a true rhetorician. He seemed not to recognise me at first or at all, but we had met in O’Flannell’s months ago, where he even bought me a drink, as part of a round to our table shared with Kiwi Ed, Tippler and someone called J, I think. Despite the fact that we had not been introduced properly, J stole two cheek kisses that day, saying “à bientôt” to me as I was leaving, a while after having raised my glass to Elaib’s wife and childrens’ safe journey back to Brussels. J! And there was me thinking all English men are gentlemen like Elaib, who then kissed my hand, as a proper Knight of the Goddess would do. Apparently, English men like the Belgian kissing-when-we-meet-routine very much...

All in all, I didn’t have the opportunity to chat a lot with Marianne whom I was meeting for the first time. She noticed very quickly I looked exhausted and was not fully participating to the conversation. There was a moment when I really felt I was about to faint and had to take some fresh air outside. I was indeed extremely tired after many long days of hard work this week in office, and having to stand up and put up with the hullabaloo made me feel very uncomfortable, not to mention that I had to make a tremendous effort to understand what people were talking about. As Daphne was saying to me, when Brit people meet, they tend to speak very fast, but I assure you I can follow a fast conversation easily as long as I can HEAR what you guys are saying. Right, I may be deaf, I won’t deny it... But that place is definitely not a quiet one, especially when the music covers up your foreign to me tone. There you go, Tippler, some more criticism that is not to be mistaken for denigration. There is always room for improvement, so let the girls organise the next do, this is a women’s business, our business, isn’t it Daphne?

Anyway, God bless Daphne and Marianne for providing me with stamina, thanks to some chips and a vitamine C sweet. Some food supply and a place to sit at last made me feel much better and smiling again, to which Tippler remarked I ought to smile more because it makes me look lovelier. Well thanks very much for the compliment, T, I just wish I could find more reasons to smile all the time...

One of them good reasons to smile was the rose Goth Master kind-heartedly offered me, in compensation for not having received anything the day before as I have no Valentine. But I might have received something if only Tippler had introduced me to Lynx, as he was supposed to... Find out more about Lynx, Drama Queen's guest blogger on 12 February 2007. By the way, Tippler, I am nearly fully convinced that Lynx is a real character... “Nearly” because I haven’t seen him yet!

Absentees aside (we missed you DQ, Z & Q and look forward to seeing you as soon as possible), it was a good evening, as Tippler recalls, especially that it was topped off by the “unexpected” late arrival of “She-with-the-legs-that-form-the-ladder-to-heaven”. Obviously, Tippler is not superstitious and to be frank, he was too pissed to notice that she had left her coat right behind him so that she would have to eventually come again to take it back, probably attempting a -sticking-your-hands-inside-my-bra session. She's French you said? Well, after having been extremely polite with her at the time, I feel like having a last word with her: Madame, je vous saurai gré de ne plus interrompre de conversation de la sorte et vous fais grâce de mes commentaires les plus pointus, par souci de préserver votre réputation. I ask you, how effortlessly French does this sound?

So I left with Goth Master and Mariposa, leaving Tippler behind, living in hope and sorting out his way to Heaven. That would be home, indubitably. My taxi was not a compact coupé and its driver was not sexy but he also drove me home at last, after such a long and memorable day...

There I sat in peace and quiet, assessing the evening and thinking about how it all began. I was happy as a browser and never meant to start my own blog. It is rather time consuming but worth the while, after all. I must admit it is a fantastic way of communicating with people from all around the world and I feel lucky to have met several people through this blog experience.

I thank you T, DQ and Daphne but most of all, I thank you, D, from the bottom of my heart. Now if I see you deserting your office to come into mine next week, trying not to burst into laughter in the corridor, I’ll just know you’ve been reading me...

Thank you also for making me practise my English on a daily basis, thank you for the slang qualification (O-level so far). Thank you All, it was a pleasure meeting or seeing you again and I look forward to our next get-together.

Oh, by the way.... isn’t it high tea time yet? DQ, you know what I mean, just one more guest blogger, pleeeeeease!!

Say it with Words

2007-02-14T00:20:00.000+01:00

cras amet qui numquam amavit

quique amavit cras amet

Say it with Flowers

2007-02-12T23:47:00.000+01:00

I found a yellow and purple tulip

this Monday morning,

on the street door handle.

A rather nice surprise.

Thank you so much, whoever you were.

You made my day.

Bêta

2007-02-10T18:22:00.000+01:00

Blogger must have mistaken my mentioning of

the Greek alphabet for wishful thinking.

Today, I was forced into becoming a

Η - Θ - Ι

2007-02-08T22:14:00.000+01:00

Much to my regret, you won't be reading about the time when my family moved to Brussels. Still, board the time machine with me if you please, we will travel further back this time. Awaiting the next installment, here is a joke interlude my sister sent me today...

Two Jewish men, Sid and Al, were sitting in a Greek restaurant. Sid asked Al, "Are there any people of our faith born and raised in Greece?"

Al replied, "I don't know, let's ask our waiter". When the waiter came by, Al asked him, "Are there any Greek Jews?". And the waiter said, "Aronno, I ask the cooks."

He returned from the kitchen in a few minutes and said, "No ser, no Greek Jews." Al wasn't really satisfied with that and asked, "Are you absolutely sure?"

The waiter, realising he was dealing with "xenoi" (foreigners) gave the expected answer, "I check again," and went back into the kitchen.

While the waiter was away, Sid said, "I find it hard to believe that there are no Jews in Greece. Our people are scattered everywhere."

The waiter returned and said, "The head cook say there is no Greek Jews."

"Are you certain?" Al asked once again. "I can't believe there are no Greek Jews!"

"I ask EVERYONE," replied the exasperated waiter.

"All we have is Orange Jews, Prune Jews, Tomato Jews, and Grape Jews."

Joke aside, Al and Sid's people are indeed scattered everywhere. So are Greek people, by the way. Twenty-three centuries of Jewish presence in Greece have left their mark in more ways than one. Material remains to this legacy can be found all over the country. Home of the largest pre-war Jewish Community in Greece, Thessaloniki was once called “The Metropolis of Israel, the City of Justice, the Mother of Israel, same as Jerusalem itself”, according to the words of the poet Samuel Usques.

In 1943, all of the Jews of Thessaloniki were deported to extermination camps, where 95% perished. Only 1,950 returned, to find only two of the city’s 19 synagogues still standing, their properties looted and themselves a minority in a city where they once had been the largest community. Today, the Jewish Community of Thessaloniki is the second largest in Greece, with two functioning synagogues, its own nursery and primary school, a local museum and a number of active organisations.

Greek Orthodox people were also deported during WW II. I've seen a couple of elderly people in my own village with a number on their arm, indelible reminiscence of their time spent in some concentration camp. I recall my grandmother telling me how women had to hide in the fields with their children, scared by planes flying over the village or simply running away from German troops passing by.

All men above the age of 15 were once gathered in the school yard and threatened to be killed because the occupant suspected weapons were hidden somewhere in our village. They were indeed hidden weapons, meant to be used by the Resistance, that were kept in one of the churches. That is "Saint Paraskevi", the older church that was, and still stands, further down a slope, far behind the school. "Saint Nicolas" newer main one was, and also still stands, beside the village square.

A couple of Germans stood in front of the church and were about to have its door unlocked when a rabbit appeared miraculously and made the soldiers chasing it all around. A while later, a whistle blew from the school yard and made them abandon both the rabbit and the weapon chase. The whole German troop had been called to withdraw and go elsewhere. So they did leave the village in a hurry, not having found any weapons in the meantime and therefore not killing anyone.

However, villagers' lives were lost, either fighting the ennemy during WW II or killing one another during the Greek civil war that followed. One can read many names written in golden letters on a memorial in the middle of the village square. My father was too young to find himself in that school yard but other members of my family were standing there at the time. I can't help thinking how many of the people I used to meet and talk to during the 18 years I lived in Greece wouldn't have been alive or born if the soldiers had found these weapons in the church. But all of them were not evil, my parents and grandmother told me some German soldiers were extremely friendly and even gave them food.

Hundreds of British, Australian and New Zealand soldiers were befriended, hidden, sheltered and assisted to escape by the Greek people. Nowadays, my people do take care of the many graves in cemeteries and duly respect the memory of all these soldiers' wasted lives. Of ALL soldiers, German included. It's your turn now, please pay a visit to the graveyards through this link and pay your respects to your people who fought and are buried in my country.

Rememberance day can also be today. In fact, we ought to Remember every single day of the year. These bloody wars are over but history keeps repeating itself, yet another conflict is always going on in some part of this world. Apparently, mankind will never learn, mankind will never be wise and humble, mankind will always be greedy and stupid.

On the left picture:

Greek soldiers, my grandfather standing on the right side.

*Mille mercis à Dip Dop pour la retouche de la photo*

On the right: my mother's family, probably before 1940, considering how little she is on this picture. Grandmother is wearing our traditional costume. I have been proud to wear it myself on many occasions. I remember meeting my grandfather at the age of six while on holidays but I never had a second chance to see him afterwards. Today, I still remember him clearly, though.

My grandparents survived two world wars, my mother and her two brothers just one. But just one out of the above nuclear family is alive today. It is my uncle P., standing in the middle. I miss those who have passed away, especially my late wonderful mother.

Anyway, I sure hope I won't live to see a nuclear world war...

Let us enjoy a peaceful life

Δ - Ε - Ζ

2007-02-05T23:29:00.001+01:00

This is the 8 months old baby I was talking about yesterday. Yes indeed, this is me, my picture in my first passport!

My mother had to drag my two sisters, my brother, me and probably a lot of luggage too. We travelled by train to Belgium to meet my father who had already settled there and was working in the coal mines near Mons, towards the French border.

A lot of people were immigrating back then, looking for a better life in far away countries such as Australia, the United States, Germany, Sweden and Belgium. It must have been hard for them, very hard also for the rest of their families they were leaving behind.

We lived near the coal mines a couple of years before moving to Brussels, where another adventure began. I think I ought to go back to Péronnes-lez-Binche as a tourist some day...

A - Β - Γ

2007-02-04T21:43:00.000+01:00

J'ai vu le jour avant la floraison de ces si jolies fleurs mauves dont mon village natal porte le nom. Je suis un chat et l'eau est mon élément. Mais c'est du petit chinois pour moi, je suis née sous le signe de la Vierge dont je porte le prénom.

I like being more or less cryptic... but not too much this time. You can easily figure out where I was born and what my name is. You don't need to know my age, do you? But it is not relevant, is it? It doesn't matter at all, I will always be young at heart and spirit.

You will learn about our national flower some other time, there is so much to let you know about it. Meantime, you can guess what it is called.

Now, let me tell you some more about me. My official life began on 3rd September. There was a sort of hospital in the nearby town but babies were usually delivered at home back then. People had no cars, they traveled with their ass or by foot. Just imagine they had not even electricity at home. No, no, no, don't be mistaken, I'm not at least a sexagenerian, I was just born in the sixties in a small but rather well-known Greek village.

My mother was alone that day, as everyone else was out, working on the fields. I think they must have been on the family's vineyard from what she had told me, the grape harvest was about to begin. I was her fourth baby but despite the experience acquired, she needed help from a midwife, who eventually gave me a cute belly button.

I was sleeping in a low wooden rocking crib that had been used by all the babies who were born in that old house, the very same crib where I saw one of my cousins ten years later. By then, a new house had been built on the same ground and I was on holidays in Greece. You see, I had only lived eight months in that family home before being taken to Belgium.

I don't recall anything of these first eight months of my life, but who would possibly remember something? I was mostly breastfed by my mother, was baptised and named after my father's grandmother. According to the tradition, I should have been named after my mother's father but my father's family wished otherwise because my great grandmother's name was lost together with my father's little sister.

It is rather complicated, I know, and I guess you're not following me here but anyway, both names have the same meaning and the same name day so everyone was happy, including me today. I suffered enough, at school for instance, having a "weird" surname, I was more than glad to have a more "Belgian friendly" name. As you can see, Greek people have their names carefully chosen and their name days are more important than birthdays.

Whereas I sometimes wish I wasn't...

What's another year

2007-02-01T22:41:00.000+01:00

This is not my boss hiding under the desk and this is not me. I'm not blonde, not even a fake one. I don't wear glasses yet nor do I usually wear dresses and skirts. But I shamelessly admit to have been in this very interesting position yesterday.

I signed a legally binding piece of paper. Another one year contract, which means twelve more months to spend working in Brussels, in such an enjoyable multicultural environment.

You don't know much about me yet, do you?

Stay tuned, I am just about to tell you more...

Earliness, readyness, thoughtfulness

2007-01-30T22:02:00.000+01:00

Easter eggs were already in the supermarket yesterday.

Very early, isn't it?

Today, the decoration in a window shop drew my attention.

Red heart shapes floating around four huge red letters.

Just in time...

Or perhaps too short a notice considering I need to...

find myself a Valentine within a fortnight.

ON & OFF

2007-01-27T14:59:00.000+01:00

May I remind you the sales will end soon, there are only a couple of days left for you to acquire whatever you need or wish at a more reasonable price.

Bargains are still waiting for you, such as the €86,50 digital camera I bought yesterday. I also got a digital voice tracker to use at the choir rehearsals and a steam iron which, hopefully, will make me hold ironing in a higher esteem. Oh, and an optical mouse too.... Don't ever think I am a greedy person, these are but useful things I actually needed.

This is a part of the Brussels scenery I can enjoy from my rear window. Nice view, isn't it? I invite you to read The Damn Architect by the exquiste Daphne Wayne-Bough to learn more about the magnificent Palais de Justice you can see on the left.

I didn't take the time to carefully read the instructions for use yet but managing to take a first shot and downloading it on my PC without any trouble prove that my brand new camera is rather easy to use.

So far, I can say that it is great value for money. The quality of the picture is pretty good and I look forward to discovering all the possibilities this apparatus has to offer and to sharing some of the best results with you, right here.

The funny thing is that a part of the school I used to frequent as a teenager is pictured here, at the front bottom. Ages ago, under that very roof, I took some photography classes. I must say I haven't forgotten my teacher and most of the tips I had learned at the time. There were no digital cameras back then and taking a perfect shot was quite a challenge.

Nowadays, everything is achieved by simply pressing a button and I intend to use my new 'tech-toys' a lot. Which reminds me that I have become an e-addict and should immediately stop writing and think of pressing the washing machine's start button instead, before giving the new iron a try.

High technology is all around and I wonder what it would be like if human beings could also be controlled by various buttons. Let us hold our breath while Goth is about to introduce us to his new Creature. Will it be a contribution to finally making this world a better place, Master?

Meantime, OFF with this, and ON with the rest, just hoping I will obey my own orders...

La groupie du pianiste

2007-01-26T18:38:00.000+01:00

Elle passe ses nuits sans dormir,

À gâcher son bel avenir,

La groupie du pianiste

Dieu que cette fille a l'air triste,

Amoureuse d'un égoïste,

La groupie du pianiste

Elle fout toute sa vie en l'air,

Et toute sa vie c'est pas grand chose,

Qu'est-ce qu'elle aurait bien pu faire,

À part rêver seule dans son lit,

Le soir entre ses draps roses

Elle passe sa vie à l'attendre,

Pour un mot pour un geste tendre,

La groupie du pianiste

Devant l'hôtel dans les coulisses,

Elle rêve de la vie d'artiste,

La groupie du pianiste

Elle le suivrait jusqu'en enfer,

Et même l'enfer c'est pas grand chose,

À côté d'être seule sur terre,

Et elle y pense dans son lit,

Le soir entre ses draps roses

Elle l'aime, elle l'adore,

Plus que tout elle l'aime,

C'est beau comme elle l'aime

Elle l'aime, elle l'adore,

C'est fou comme elle aime,

C'est beau comme elle l'aime

Il a des droits sur son sourire,

Elle a des droits sur ses désirs,

La groupie du pianiste

Elle sait rester là sans rien dire,

Pendant que lui joue ses délires

La groupie du pianiste

Quand le concert est terminé,

Elle met ses mains sur le clavier,

En rêvant qu'il va l'emmener,

Passer le reste de sa vie,

Tout simplement à l'écouter

Elle sait comprendre sa musique,

Elle sait oublier qu'elle existe,

La groupie du pianiste

Mais Dieu que cette fille prend des risques,

Amoureuse d'un égoïste,

La groupie du pianiste

Elle fout toute sa vie en l'air,

Et toute sa vie c'est pas grand chose,

Qu'est-ce qu'elle aurait bien pu faire,

À part rêver seule dans son lit,

Le soir entre ses draps roses

Elle l'aime, elle l'adore,

Plus que tout elle l'aime,

C'est beau comme elle l'aime

Elle l'aime, elle l'adore,

C'est fou comme elle aime,

C'est beau comme elle l'aime

La groupie du pianiste...

Chanson de Michel Berger, dédicacée à Drama Queen l'Espiègle

Long live the Adventures of our beloved Drama Queen,

Long live the Queen & King

Si Fa Si La....chantez!

2007-01-25T00:02:00.000+01:00

Yes, yes, yessssss! Hell no, it's got nothing to do with my special friend Heino. Should he finally want to see me next Wednesday, I'm afraid I will have to say "so sorry, I'm not available that evening and will be busy every other Wednesday too". It's not that I would have to mix business with pleasure, in this particular case, I would simply have to choose among two dreams come true at last.

So Heino can wait a bit longer, or should I say I can wait for him a bit longer... I'm so used to it, anyway. I would rather join a club of new friends, they are fifteen all in all and I already met more than half of them tonight. They are such nice persons and we liked each other at once, so much that I didn't feel a stranger at all, I was a newcomer that fitted in immediately.

"Si fa si la... chantez", well... in fact it's not si facile de chanter, I mean it's not that easy to sing and I will never be a diva like Maria Callas but I love singing as much as she did, with all my heart and soul, that is. My first rehearsal went pretty fine and I have just become a member of the choir. This is a memorable day, and I'm soooooo happy!

What about you out there, what does your voice sound like? Are you soprano, alto, tenor, bass, a baryton perhaps? Alto as far as I'm concerned and to begin with, not to mention that I still have to get attuned to reading music again... Thinking that music is the international language, it is certainly worth the effort, isn't it?

Hit me, hit me, hit me

2007-01-21T11:23:00.000+01:00

Dédicacé à l'extraordinaire Zoe

Looking forward to your next hit,

x M x

Quid pro quo

2007-01-18T00:08:00.000+01:00

You might recall my recent trip to the UK and the fact that I was not once bothered by the local currency. I had paid my coffee in € on the €urostar and got some £ change back, a convenient quid pro quo which gave me more than enough to buy the metro ticket I needed.

I must say that zone 1 fare was more expensive than I expected: three whole quid. Yes, € 4,5... a British scandal, that’s what it is, three times the price we pay in Brussels. (By the way, as I was on a tramway this morning, I noticed the ticket one will buy on board will cost € 2 as from 1 February, that’s 50 eurocent more, you have been warned).

Etat des dépenses suivi d’état d’âme... here’s a reminiscence of my trip and paying with plastic money everywhere I shopped, little wonder I was not once bothered until today, when I found the grand total in my letter box.

22/12 First Capital Conn Blackfriars 15,90- GBP 23,92- €
Single train ticket, yet another scandal
23/12 Budgens Stores LTD 19,35- GBP 29,10- €
Christmas pudding and such stuff
23/12 Debenhams PLC 20,00- GBP 30,08- €
Trousers and pullover
23/12 Marks & Spencer 67,50- GBP 101,53- €
Clothes + vouchers (gift)
23/12 DP/Burton/Evans 25,00- GBP 37,60- €
What the heck was this, can someone tell me what kind of things they sell?
28/12 The Clarks Shop 34,99- GBP 52,66- €
One pair of leather boots
28/12 The Factory Shoe Shop 35,97- GBP 54,13- €
Three pairs of leather shoes/sandals, a real bargain

The list goes on, it was a shopping spree as I was telling you, let alone the outrageous amount of 185 € for my train ticket to Waterloo International... and I’m still waiting for the refund of my cancelled flights, but that was achieved only after one week’s efforts over the phone, before, during and after Christmas, desperately trying to speak to a human being who finally told me I would have to wait 6 to 8 weeks. That’s at least another month’s patience by now. Heigh-ho.

Heigh-ho again as I see this:

30/12 BP Woodcote S/Serve 7,04- GBP 10,59- €
A bottle of water, sausages (well yes, pork sausages, what’s wrong with that, he?) and two boxes of PG tips.

Right, they were selling petrol as well but the car’s tank was full already, I just needed the tea. I had seen and recognised my special friend’s favourite tea bags in a supermarket days before but at the time, I thought... “Oh, just forget it, he couldn’t care less anyway”. On my way home and as my brother-in-law was driving me to the railway station, I asked him to stop somewhere in order to finally buy them.

I couldn’t possibly leave England without a gift for Heino, a tall blue eyed Finn who used to live in London and is now based in Brussels, where I met him last year. As I write this and turn my head towards the kitchen, I can still see the box on a shelf. No, it hasn’t been delivered yet and I wonder whether I will ever get the chance to hand it over and sip a cup of tea in his gorgeous company.

He hasn’t been in touch yet, but I know he’s a busy man...

Cyber’n’ethics

2007-01-13T15:12:00.000+01:00

Reading about natural hardness and boosted drive, refreshing your body with numerous miraculous products, etcetera, can be amusing at first but that kind of daily unsolicited information surely gets on one’s nerves in no time.

Much to the chagrin of Hormel Foods, maker of the canned "Shoulder Pork and hAM"/"SPiced hAM" luncheon meat, the term "spam" has come to mean network abuse. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, spam mailing is merely one of its many aspects.

Were you aware of just how often your dirty laundry piles up or how empty the refrigerator gets?
Have you reached out to any people who don't have access to the Internet lately, how many "real" friends do you have and when was the last time you got together?
Are your life experiences and personal contacts diverse and not limited to cybersex?

In case your answers to the above questions were “no, none and I can’t remember”, the time has come to evaluate the impact of the Internet on your life.
You may find out you need immediate help, confidential counselling or worse, you may come to realise you suffer from addiction and find yourself admitted to hospital.
Fortunately, I’m not in such distress. I may surf a bit too long at times but I still have control over my World Wide Web usage. This is why, dear Readers, I won't abuse of your precious time much longer today.

As a matter of fact, any unethical practice is all geek...

...all Greek to me.

In the eye of the beholder

2007-01-07T08:08:00.000+01:00

Prompted by Berlaymonster - EU talent, the search continues - I am currently in the process of reviewing hundreds of people in view of nominating my MEP Idol. I must admit I’m not having as much fun as with the Cabinet Review but nevertheless, a couple of FAQ stroke my mind and I believe there is a valuable lesson to be learned here, a pearl of wisdom to be found.

Looking for a leading actor among 785 people from 27 different nations is not an easy task; I needed guidance concerning the best way to proceed:

MKWM: Aren’t we all united in diversity?

European Citizens: Aren’t we supposed to be?

MKWM: Then why do our countries of origin matter that much to us? EC: Why wouldn’t they?

MKWM: In the process of electing your MEP Idol, which would be the most appropriate approach?

EC: Why would we bother, is it mandatory?

Admiring the wisdom of answering a question with a question, I have come to the conclusion that, since our MEPs are not organised by nationality but by political affiliation, such a vision would be more appropriate, if only reviewing the non-attached Members was possible. Unfortunately, the latter can only be seen by country, while the seven political groups have their own web pages.

Consequently, these men and women will all have to be reviewed by country, but how exactly will my choice be made and if I had to vote, for whom would I put my cross on the ballot paper and for which reasons? Why are we inclined to instantly judge people by their appearance? What makes me think this man/woman is attractive or not? And incidentally, which is "my" country, where is my home, who are my ancestors and where do I really come from?

The least I can say is that Earth is my planet of origin. I have lived for a quarter of a century in the multicultural environment that Brussels has to offer and which I consider my home but I am a peaceful, open minded European Citizen who could fit and adjust everywhere in this world, live happily amongst all kind of people, whatever their colour, origin or even sexual orientation.

To judge a person by their image is of course wrong and it is certainly not a rule that governs my life, who am I to judge anyone anyway? I could be subjective and choose someone from my country of origin or according to my own political orientation but I’m afraid I will have to disappoint you - and my own self - by electing my MEP Idol as seen on a rather good or bad picture. Doing this, I know I will choose nothing but a person who meets the criteria of my archetype of beauty, in fact, nothing but an attractive outer shell in the eye of the beholder.

What about people’s inner self? Isn’t it worth exploring, could it have a greater impact on us than their outward show? Surprisingly enough, we realise there can be a natural attraction, liking, or feeling of kinship between persons who have never met, no matter their age, gender or good looks.

This is achieved through a telephone conversation or a script that allows individuals to communicate without meeting face to face. Writing allows us to capture our ideas, and through our blogs for instance, our thoughts and therefore a part of our soul are available to all.

There are affinities between people who have never seen each other, nor even spoken to one another, meaning they have discovered their inner beauty and its great value over physical appearance.

Yes indeed, beauty is only skin deep.

Wise men

2007-01-06T07:54:00.000+01:00

I can’t believe I just wrote that… ”wise” men, pffft.... That will probably be when pigs fly, unless they have an epiphany today, have the luck to get the bean and become king for a day.

Happy Feast of Light to All. (Αγαπημένη κόρη μου Φανή, χρόνια σου πολλά)

Faits d'hiver

2007-01-06T02:41:00.000+01:00

Puisque nos voisines anglaises nous ont largement devancées, nous nous consolerons en pensant que nos voisines françaises auront une semaine de retard. C’est pourquoi nous devrons faire preuve de flegme britannique si elles venaient à franchir la frontière afin de piétiner nos platebandes.

Laissez passer, il y en aura pour tout le monde. Bien entendu, vous devrez vous y prendre à temps, définir un plan d’action tout en ne négligeant pas l’intendance. Vous ferez face à des sacrifices mais ce ne seront pas les vôtres, bien au contraire.

La période de chasse est officiellement ouverte. À bon entendeur, salut. Je vous invite à suivre ce plan d’attaque stratégique préalablement testé:

Faites sonner le clairon à l’heure matinale, restaurez-vous suffisamment car l’exercice vous fera notamment dépenser beaucoup d’énergie ;

Ne vous habillez pas trop chaudement, chaussez des chaussettes en coton et vos chaussures de marche, passez votre escarcelle en bandoulière, prenez un sac à dos, armez-vous de patience et d’endurance ;

Partez aussitôt faire de la prospection, ne laissez pas la tentation vous mener par le bout du nez, ne ciblez que vos besoins réels… mais après tout, ne visez que ce dont vous avez irrésistiblement envie d’acquérir ;

Restez vigilantes sur le champ de bataille, assurez-vous d’être bien à l’abri des regards ennemis et indiscrets, couvrez bien votre retraite en changeant d’uniformes et de soutient gorges;

Surtout, ne vous laissez pas décourager si, aujourd’hui, vous n’avez rien trouvé à votre goût, à votre taille ou à votre pointure.

À la chasse aux soldes, mesdames, vous y retournerez…

The more the merrier

2007-01-03T20:24:00.000+01:00

New Year, new EU presidency but also new Member States, new official languages, new Commissioners, new € coins... we knew this was bound to happen since we do live in a constantly enlarging empire whose membership now stands at 27.

As if CS, DA, DE, ET, EL, EN, ES, FI, FR, HU, IT, LV, LT, MT, NL, PL, PT, SK, SL and SV weren’t enough, BG, GA and RO have joined the club of official languages. You should know that, in a Europe which will always be multilingual, learning languages opens doors. Just imagine you could become a translator or an interpreter and start learning as many as possible of the aforementioned 23. Do not omit Catalan, Basque and Galician that have already been granted semi-official status and could soon be included...

But there is more to it than the possibility of getting hold of a better job. The language a person speaks is part of their identity and their culture. So learning languages means understanding other people and their way of thinking. It means opposing racism, xenophobia and intolerance and therefore enjoying living in this wonderful "melting pot" also known as European Union.

Don’t you feel like saying "EU go brách" ?

MMVII

2007-01-01T16:20:00.000+01:00

I'm only expected back in office on Wednesday which suits me fine because I still need to recover from a hell of a New Year's Eve party, not to mention that I haven't unpacked my suitcase yet. What am I saying here... not mine actually, my sister's. After a shopping spree in the UK, I needed a bigger one and my arms and shoulders are still aching as all in all, I had to drag about six or seven heavy pieces of luggage back to Brussels.

From clothes, shoes and boots to various typical English goodies, you name it, I have carried it home. PG tips too, of course, although I never get the chance to use a tea pot in the morning, a pyramid bag makes such a tasteful cup of tea I have to brew and drink alone, unfortunately. One of the two boxes I brought back is a gift. Yes, quite an original one and I just hope the special person who is to receive it will also grasp its meaning, which is "tea for two and two for tea". I know this is going to be very hard because, obviously, we don't speak the same language and furthermore, that particular Man I long for is not able to read tea leaves. Delivering my gift will definitely be "another pair of sleeves" as we say in French, which means yet another achievement. Luckily for me, I do not lack in patience and determination, especially when the goal is worth struggling for. The tea's "best before" date being April 2008, I believe I might have a chance after all, time will tell. Meanwhile, I can't help thinking about my trip to the English countryside and how beautiful it was, I have always felt very much at home over there.

As you must have heard, Christmas was all fogged up and a lot of BA flights were cancelled but thanks to my Internet connection and my credit card, I was instantly able to book a seat on Eurostar, thank God for this alternative. I boarded train 9133, as Aloisius did. I felt like approaching the Euro Star for an autograph but decided not to bother him as he was obvioulsy travelling incognito so I hopped in carriage 14, seat 73. There I was sat next to a guy watching a science fiction DVD on his laptop. After a while, as I was wondering why he had stopped eating his sandwich and had not yet looked at me, I realised that rather dull movie was full of totty and that must have been the reason of all his attention, hence no conversation possible... this is definitely a sad world.

I saw Aloisius again at Waterloo International and at the time, I was more concerned about asking him to show me the way to the Underground rather than having his autograph but he disappeared before I had the chance to do so. Nevertheless, I followed the signs and whilst in the metro, I thought I had entered a Star Gate and found myself in a completely different universe; the tube made me think I was travelling from a space station to another. I reached Blackfriars without getting lost and an hour or so later, I had arrived to my final destination up North and was welcomed by my sister and brother-in-law, oh and by their dog too, the very one that kept walking ME around. We had a lovely time altogether and I already look forward to a next visit.

The highlight of my trip was the midnight mass. I didn't even know what kind of church I was entering but it didn't really matter, I had to be therein or else Christmas would be meaningless. I was provided with the order for the celebration and the lyrics so there again, I felt pretty much at home and was proud to sing the carols out loud. Brilliant, so was the choir and the blonde version of the Vicar of Dibley. Britain has so many 'different' things that make it attractive to me. I like its people (the gentlemen most of all, it goes without saying), its language, the real ales in cosy pubs, the sales shopping, etc. I must say I was not once bothered by its currency. After all, who would need the euro with such beautiful coins, my favourites are of course the 20 and 50 p. because of their heptagonal shape.

All good things come to an end, enabling other beginnings to happen so I travelled back to Brussels, first class in the Eurostar this time but once again no gentleman in front or next to me so it was yet another silent journey. I had indeed promised my friend and colleague Carrie Cole we would see the dawn of the New Year together. MMVII started under magnificent fireworks and we danced the night away in a disco bar in the Chicken Market Street. Great craic and two handsome men chasing me all around and chasing one another in order to be closer to me, I just couldn't believe my luck. Apparently, this new year starts way better than the previous one. They were both young and extremely attractive men I'll have you know but... I had my mind set on delivering a box of PG tips instead. You have been warned already, I always fall for the odd and curious...

Home sweet home

2006-12-31T11:32:00.000+01:00

J'ai ouvert les rideaux sur un tout autre paysage ce matin. La rivière, le pont, les arbres et ces si jolies maisons bâties au cœur de la campagne anglaise ont fait place à la Basilique, l’Atomium, un clocher du centre ville, le Palais de Justice et une multitude de bâtiments bruxellois, tous couverts d’un ciel gris et menaçant.

Je tenais à être de retour dans la capitale belge afin d’y entamer l’An Nouveau mais j’avoue que le calme intérieur procuré par ces paysages verdoyants me manque déjà. Je me sentais si bien sur cette île voisine parce que j’y ai probablement déjà vécu une autre vie, à une autre époque, dans un autre univers.

Tout en faisant le bilan de l’année écoulée, un sourire se dessine sur mon visage. Les bons souvenirs surpassent les mauvais et ma foi, le plus important est que je sois toujours ici, à la veille d’une année à passer aux côtés de mes amis et concitoyens à qui j’ai le plaisir de présenter mes meilleurs vœux.

Nous voici donc à l’aube de nouvelles aventures que nous allons pouvoir vivre et partager ensemble car mon souhait le plus cher est de vivre, tout simplement.

Home is where heart is...

MKWM - Brussels - MMVII

The F word

2006-12-23T22:29:00.000+01:00

I felt this headline was worth mentioning:

Christmas is all fogged up. Metro.co.uk - 22/12/2006

Poinsettia, the Star of Bethlehem

2006-12-21T04:18:00.000+01:00

Senior correspondent Carrie Cole called me while I was at the hairdresser’s today, having my hair cut after camouflaging my scarce grey hair. All this trouble to look at least a couple of years younger and smarter in view of my crossing the Channel on Friday.

No, it’s not at all my eldest sister I have to make an impact on, it’s first of all on myself and then on my brother-in-law’s twin brother. I am meeting him for the very first time in the English countryside where we will be Christmas holidaying altogether.

Carrie Cole joined me at the salon de coiffure and off we went for a walk downtown, as soon as my brushing was done and over with. She kindly offered me the last ‘business lunch’ of the year. As expected, we spent most of it enjoying our meal whilst talking about men and therapy shopping, in other words, anything but MKWM matters.

We enhanced our joyous spirit by lighting a candle in Saint Nicolas church in rue au Beurre Boule et Bill. I am kidding you not; it is indeed the twofold name of the street leading to the Grand’ Place. I only noticed it today and will have to investigate further before giving you any feedback. This church was worth the visit but astonishingly, there wasn’t any newborn to be seen between Mary, Joseph and the gang, which made me think he might have been kidnapped or about to be delivered. Deplorable and simply beyond belief.... I guess I will also have to enquire about the missing infant in the crib as of Monday.

Moreover, I had to see for myself whether what I’d been told concerning this year’s festive decoration on the Grote Markt was accurate. I felt cheerless looking at a Christmas tree that reminded me more of a weeping willow banged by a flock of reindeers. Don’t ask me about the ‘sounds & lights’ show that wasn’t on at the time, I doubt it would have fascinated me, anyway.

We had to pass by le Gisant, also known as Everhard ‘t Serclaes, a hero of the 14th century who died in Brussels, the city he had fought for. As usual, we rubbed the naked Knight all over, as tourists do, making a wish that has to be kept secret. Some say it brings luck, or love according to others. Whatever... I need both and come to think of it, I forgot to make a wish. Never mind though, I was given a poinsettia yesterday, a Christmas Star, a gift that filled me with joy and happiness. I pass it on to you All.

I’m not a square

2006-12-20T01:27:00.000+01:00

I wish I had given more thought about Belgian standards before being seduced by a pack of greeting cards with red square envelopes. I couldn’t resist choosing them because these Christmas mobiles are lovely and decorative at the same time.

Stuck in four-sided figures, I came across a card for a special friend of mine. This time, it was not its square shape and white envelope that stole my heart but the perfectly weighted text it was bearing inside, let alone the cute illustration, quite a symbol in fact.

Once I had written down my best wishes and sealed the envelopes, I jam-packed the parcel to be sent back home to my beloved ones. As I started wondering about stamps, the abovementioned website made me realise I would have to pay a visit to the nearest post office and pay a higher price as I had not made an ordinary choice.

Pretty normal for a person like me who always falls for the odd and curious.

I still have to post more season’s greetings, by e-mail and through this blog. Even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable in the recipients’ eyes.

Entering the Blogeoisie

2006-12-17T23:27:00.000+01:00

Who would ever have imagined my humble self, MKWM's foreign correspondent, penetrating the Court of Blogeoisie...

Captivated by the trendy World Wide Web, I am merely a debutante wearing the appropriate court dress and feather fan, who thought it was about time to bring my nom de plume into play and publish a tirade in this rant and rave atmosphere.

Several favourite distinguished blogeois’ names are already in my carnet de bal and I will link to them in the near future. I have indeed been sending them feedback for quite a long time now, although I was not properly introduced to All.

It is only fair I remain blogless no more and while laying the foundation stone and preparing myself to enter the Court's ball room, I hope to be sufficiently thought-provoking with the following philosophical interlude, courtesy of Plato.

The beginning is the most important part of the work. Never discourage anyone... who continually makes progress, no matter how slow.

Sprôtje, MKWM, Brussels

MKWM

Follow me, myself and I

Welcome David

Les copains d'abord

Red ribbon story

A French lesson (for Joliet Jake)

Shape up or ship out

Interlude

Shaggy & shaggier dog stories

Breaking news

Alone together

Soft bloggers

It's a small world after all

Kαι του χρόνου…

Jamais deux sans trois

Silence is golden

Γ Ι A T I ;

Update

Unplugged

Devinette

"There is time for everything" (T. Edison)

Telegram

Un brin d' bonheur

My favourite rugby player

Scherzando, con brio

Shush

SCOOP

Flickr

Red is for Passion

Picture hunting

25η Μαρτίου

Tagged on Thirds

Scotchée à Paname

Fluctuat nec mergitur

Lutèce

Your chance to win a city-trip

Nous les femmes

No pain, no gain

International Mother Language Day

Κ - Λ - Μ

I Blog Therefore I Am (AM ©)

Say it with Words

Say it with Flowers

Bêta

Η - Θ - Ι

Δ - Ε - Ζ

A - Β - Γ

What's another year

Earliness, readyness, thoughtfulness

ON & OFF

La groupie du pianiste

Si Fa Si La....chantez!

Hit me, hit me, hit me

Quid pro quo

Cyber’n’ethics

In the eye of the beholder

Wise men

Faits d'hiver

The more the merrier

MMVII

Home sweet home

The F word

Poinsettia, the Star of Bethlehem

I’m not a square

Entering the Blogeoisie