Pop pop pop that thing

The good thing about living in Belgium is that it is way higher up on drop-down lists where you have to fill in your country of residence than both Sweden and the UK. Also, there are no mice in the metro. People speak French but are not French, I like that. (Je plaisaaaante, bisous a vous tous!) I'm not saying the list ends there; Brussels is beautiful and it's only rained on 5 out of 9 days, that's not too bad...

But right now most things I want, can't stop thinking about, and love, let's face it, are not in Belgium with me. I'd totally trade waffles for my Archway flatmates - I don't like either at breakfast but would love both at a later and less cranky time of the day. That isn't to say that my current flattie isn't eeeeexcellent, because she is. Her name is Caterina, she works for the Vatican and is of course Italian. She is one of the most genuinely kind people I've ever met, so I feel very lucky to be housing with her. Living with her is slowly but surely teaching me Italian; one word I'm definitely down with is 'aspetta', which means 'wait'.

Because I've spent all day figuring out how to make logical links between sections in a report we are trying to write at work I'm going to make a completely illogical one now and go on to explain that I'm not sure why I'm starting this blog. A part of me wants to think it's because I suddenly find myself a little more lonely than usual (the tiny violin-playing part) and another that I am too lazy to write by hand in my pink purchased-for-a-purpose diary (the same part that just realized I am uncomfortable here on my bed and need another pillow but am too paresseuse to go get one so I made my hair into a bun and laid on it in the hope of becoming Americas Next Top Model that it would provide some cushioning). Either way, I am hereby making a commitment (because these days we don't have have to keep them) to write in it until I move back to London in 2011 so that all the people I directly forget to write to while I'm hors Angleterre can feel indirectly addressed via this here. 

It's now getting to that time of day when my eyes that have turned square from too many hours in front of an office computer screen are also starting to black out certain parts of my vision. I think that means bedtime. Expect great things from Le temps danse. Ask me where I got the name from. Expect office gossip about Baden Baden and the marginally friendly receptionist with great shoes. Expect reports from Yaoundé which unbelievably enough is only 19 + 24 (whatever that is) days away. Expect many a posts tainted by love-sickness about a Benji who lies over the ocean. Expect Miss Maja Helena Jazzee Nordstrom to be guestblogging from Lyon and Miss Sara Sir Vas Edvinsson to be distance blogging from the other side of France in order to reunite L'equipe suedoise (also known as the blog that DIED).

This one will not die. I have killed cacti in my days but am determined to let this one live. So cheers! La quercia solitaria aspetta la notte - The lonely oak waits for the night.