An Ode to Curry.

O Curry, all hot and spicy,

why do I love you so....

God, I wish I could write poetry. The Belgians love their Whitlof, we British love our Currys. The first Indian resturant in England opened in 1815, I'm afraid I dont know when the first Witlof resturant opened in Belgium but it was probably around the same period. My name is Mike and I'm addicted to Curry. I had my first curry in the early 1970's, I can remember the journey to Gants Hill from our home in Enfield quite clearly. My first ever Curry was a Madras, so I started spicy at an early age. In my 20's I needed something spicier so I started eating Vindaloos and by the time I was 30 I was eating Phals. For anyone who doesn't know what a Phal is then imagine eating one of those things a fire-eater puts in his mouth while it's still on fire, it's as hot as that. I never really had a problem with Phals, but my lips did. If I could have lain on my back and had Indian waiters drop the food into my mouth like a Roman Senator then I would have. But I don't think my usual £2 tip at the end of a meal would have covered it. And I didn't like to ask, anyway. I had to stop eating Phals when my taste buds left for less spicier climes. I went cold turkey. Not all of my taste buds could be tempted back but enough have returned for me to enjoy a Jalfrezi whenever we visit England.

Oh Curry, so hot and spicy,

why do I love you so?

is it because you taste so nicey,

or becau......damn, I wish I could write poetry!

Thursday night is a Curry night in our house!

Bring it on!!

Summer in Antwerp.

Do You Blog?

A week ago I knew nothing about blogging. I was aware of them but in the same way that I'm aware of Elephants. I know they are there but I've never wanted to have one!
I know from my site meter that 23 people have visited this page today. I'm very curious as to who those people are. Did you just stumble across this page or were you pushed?
My attitude to the blog was to just press enter on my first post and let it disappear into the WWW, hoping it would introduce itself to the surfing world without any help from me. I guess the internet isn't as clever as I thought it was.
Luckily for me, my fiance and first follower(hmm, makes me sound like the leader of a dodgy religion), Do, told everyone she knew in her email address book and she had back some nice replies. What I would like to do is get people to become followers of the blog, leave comments and tell us all about their blogs. So even if you just stumbled across this blog, leave details of your own so we can visit it.

Klokkeven in Oostmalle.

faq

I wasn't going to write today but something happened on the way to Delhaize that left me scratching my head. So I decided not only to write about it but also start a new segment in my blog called faq or frequently asked questions. Basically, things that make me go "huh?".
I think this is also a good way of getting readers involved in the blog because I would love to hear your comments, dear reader.
I was walking along the pavement to Delhaize (that's a big supermarket chain here in Belgium), listening to a rather snazzy Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds compilation I made on my ipod, when over the sound of the music I heard women screaming. I looked to the source of the screaming and saw two teenage girls waving a stick at me. The girls stood at either end of the stick and hanging from the stick were maybe as many as five bikini's. I have to say that this is something thats never happened to me before but the postman behind me got a shake as well which made me wonder if this is a special feestdag I didn't know about. Something to do with spring coming maybe? I would appreciate enlightenment!
Readers can now leave comments without signing in.

Welke Taal Spreek Je?..deel 2

Three times a week I subject myself to a trip to the bakkers. The Belgians love their bakers. Within 5 minutes walk of our appartment you will find 5 bakkers and on a sunday morning you will usually find people queueing outside, such is the popularity of the pistolet, an airy, slightly crusty bread roll. I tend to use the same 2 bakkers based on the mistaken idea that repeated visits would gradually make me less like a mental alien with a speech impediment and more like a normal regular customer. I was fully aware that this would take a bit of time, but 2 years later it's beginning to wear a bit thin.
Maybe they just like to hear me say "abdij".
Anyone who read abdij as abdidge would be wrong. The letters ij are used a hell of a lot in Dutch and are in fact pronounced as "ay" or as near as dammit. Personally I'm all for using the less popular letters from the alphabet for some words but please, abday works just as well.
This particular bakker has a seemingly endless line of staff out at the back of the shop and everytime I visit, a new one gets pushed out to serve me with the rest sniggering behind the door. Last sunday I had a bigger than usual order. I asked for abdij brood, the words left my mouth as abdij brood but somewhere in the ether between my mouth and the shop assisitant's ears it turned into gibberish. I'm aware that I speak Dutch with a Cockney accent (Cockney is a term used to describe a Londoner, but is particular to the East End), in fact I'm probably the only person in the world who speaks Dutchney, but why do my words sound so different? I'm possitive I say the word properly. It has 2 syllables and just 5 letters, what could go wrong?
After repeating the word three times and pointing at the bloody thing the penny finally dropped and the bread was cut and packed for me.
My next problem was that I wanted 2 croissants. Did I ask for the croissants in Dutchney or should I speak with a French accent? The English are pretty good at French accents. This could possibly have something to do with watching too many repeats of Peter Sellars in the Pink Panther movies over the years, or maybe William the Conqueror's visit in 1066 has something to do with it. Incidently, I was intrested to read recently that the Flemish played a big part in his army. Ironically they had the same problem trying to buy bread from the Anglo Saxons that I have today...
I settled for Dutchney, the shop was full and I was positive that every pair of eyes were burning into the back of my neck, their owners thinking,"who's the alien...?"

Welke Taal Spreek je?

They often say that life imitates art and I can agree wholeheartedly with that sentiment because in the past 3 years I have turned into Officer Crabtree from the BBC series Allo Allo. Crabtree, you may remember, was the Englishman posing as a gendarme in occupied France during WWII or WOII, depending on whether you are reading this in England or Belgium. His famous catchphrase was "Good moaning". It's only since being here in Belgium that I can appreciate what a suberb piece of comic writing this was from the shows creators. Have you ever been looked at as if:
a) you have just stepped off of a spaceship from another galaxy- see prologue
b) you are mental
c) you have a speech impediment
d) you are mental and have a speech impediment
I have.
Try speaking Dutch to a Belgian.
Dutch is the 3rd most difficult language in the known universe to learn. For the record, the 2nd most difficult is that clicky tongue thing that tribal Namibians do and 1st is Fish.
I have been learning Dutch for around 18 months and find it to be...madness.
"This is not madness...this is Dutch!"
I shall be writing a lot over the coming months about learning Dutch. Watch this space...

Prologue

Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away...hmm, ok so it was North London, but it seems far, far away sometimes. This is a blog about my life, please dont get too excited because for the first 42 years it was fairly uneventful. However, for the past few years I have been living in Belgium, you might have heard of it, small country, best beer in the world, second best chocolate (after Cadburys) and nestling snuggly between France and Holland. In the past I avoided visiting countries that didnt speak English so my knowledge of Europe was sketchy and the only thing I could recall about Belgium was the superb goal David Platt scored against them in the dying moments of the 1990 World Cup quarter finals. So here's my blog, it's about being English, In Flanders.