more train of thought – Anvers

more train of thought

Comfortably on eleven oh four Eurostar to Brussels, coach 16 Seat 57. Table to meself at the front of the train. Place to be. Buried in ma tunes. Poxy connectivity as usual. Having a table to yourself means being able to shift the food tray out of the way in between courses. 

The woman sat over the aisle in a single seat is having to put the tray on her lap whilst typing away on a powerpoint. I’m writing my diary. A day in the worralife!

Just emerged from the chunnel. The weather is the same here as in London. Dullness prevails. Looks like it has been raining a lot. Makes life in the trenches very unpleasant. Don’t suppose trench living is pleasant whatever the weather. I only mention trenches because the train traverses world war one territory.

This train continues on to Amsterdam via Rotterdam after dropping me off in Brussels. Shame it doesn’t stop in Antwerp which is where I am off to. Goes through Antwerp. 293kmh. The train. Quite fast eh? The countryside is verily whizzing by, forsooth.

I seem to be jumping back and forth across history here. I mean c’mon. Nobody says forsooth or verily these days. Did they ever other than in Shakespeare plays?

Pretty full on day in London yesterday. These conferences are knackering. No respite. I rarely bother with any of the content.

Now on the delayed (15 mins) 14:19 to Anvers Centraal. 2 changes of platform, presumably because of the delay. You have to be alert when catching trains in Belgium. 

Trundling along at a very sedate pace. No wonder it is running late. I suppose the bloke carrying the flag out front is a bit tired. We’ve just pulled in to Brussels North and are now running seventeen minutes late.

Looking at a quiet night tonight. Beans on toast ideally but I guess they probs don’t have that delicacy on menus in Antwerp. Missing a trick. I don’t want moules frites or steak frites Bob.

I wonder what Belgians eat instead of beans on toast. They must have their own comfort foods. Chip butties? Quite like a chip butty. Buttered white bread.

All quiet in the exec lounge of the Antwerp Hilton. Quaffing a g&t before heading down to the bar which should be a bit livelier. Not made my mind up whether I want dinner. Nowt special.

In one sense it’s a waste just hanging around the hotel here in Antwerp. I’ll be back again in May though for a longer stay. See how it goze.

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