Belgium

As Mr. Waffle points out, it makes her look sane and as though it might be a good idea to ring her, if you saw a falling pot plant. Cunning eh?

We went to the horse parade last weekend. The Princess was crabby but the horses were fun. Thierry has posted some excellent pictures. If you want to know even more about this Belgian extravaganza, you can have a look at the homepage.

I have found a website that suggests Belgium is a conspiracy. Who knows, maybe it’s true.

The following, from the Economist, made me laugh. I should try to get out more.

“Among the many consequences of the European Union’s current troubles, the fraying Benelux axis seems to have generated little chatter. For years Belgium, Netherlands and Luxembourg have sought to operate as an informal alliance within the EU. The three smallish nations, sandwiched between France and Germany, have often shared interests; they have always met before EU summits to co-ordinate their position. The hope was for Benelux to be as big a player as the French, Germans or British are individually.

But it is increasingly clear that the three countries have different agendas. The Belgians (and Luxembourgers) are still passionate European federalists, drawn to the Franco-German position on everything from the Iraq war to the future of the EU. The Dutch, by contrast, are increasingly drawn to the Atlanticism, free-market policies and anti-federalism traditionally associated with Britain. They underlined their new-found Euroscepticism when they voted overwhelmingly to reject the proposed new EU constitution. This vote provoked a row with their Belgian neighbours. Karel De Gucht, the Belgian foreign minister, blamed the vote on the Dutch prime minister, Jan Peter Balkenende, whom he called “a cross between Harry Potter and a rigid little bourgeois.” The enraged Dutch recalled their ambassador from Brussels, prompting Mr De Gucht to make a hasty, if unconvincing, apology.”

And note that someone is always trying to upstage you, you decide to have twins and then Claire and Laurent do too. On the plus side, I see from the cascade of Pampers vouchers in my mailbox that the hospital has received my room booking form for September. Doubtless official confirmation will follow.

And today’s final random thing. I have a friend who is half Belgian. She was talking about paying taxes. She cited the example of a friend who is a dentist and pays all his taxes. The Belgian revenue always slap him with a big fine on the basis that he can’t possibly have declared everything. “But” says my friend “he has and I’d believe him too because he’s a really odd person”.

Last night Mr. Waffle had to stay late at work and I had a work dinner. My proposed schedule for the evening was as follows:

Unfortunately, I was stuck a bit later at work than I had planned and didn’t get home until 7.00. When I arrived home, this woman followed me upstairs. She looked very respectable and I presumed she was visiting one of my neighbours but she followed me in. Conversation proceeded along the following lines:

Me: Um, can I help you?

Her: A flowerpot has fallen on my car from this building.

Me: Oh, well, I don’t think it’s one of ours but you can come and look, we haven’t got any flowers on the windowsill. (Glad of our black thumbs).

Her (aggressively): Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?

Me (with Princess clinging to me in my arms sucking doggy and looking alarmed): Well, I suppose, but it’s true, it must have come from one of the other flats.

Her: It’s your responsibility.

Me: Well, no, it’s not.

Her (getting louder): What are you going to do about it?

Me: Well nothing, really.

Her: (extremely agressively) You live in the building, it’s your responsibility. What are you going to do about it?

Princess (sotto voce in my ear): Nasty lady Mummy.

Me: Don’t be ridiculous, how can it possibly be my responsibility? In any event, I wouldn’t do anything for you as you are so unpleasant ( I actually said this), now, my child is hungry and I have to give her her dinner and I’d appreciate, if you’d leave.

Her: Snort.

Me: Deep sigh [realise this woman is never going to leave my house, am conscious of the onward march of time and my terrified, hungry daughter] Look, I have a digital camera. I can take a picture of your car for you and you can pursue the matter with my neighbours in due course.

We descend the stairs in dignified silence except for Princess muttering “We go home, Mummy, nasty lady”.

I stand in the pouring rain with my 2 year old perched on my hip. This woman’s car does have a broken flowerpot on it, but it has sustained no visible damage. I point this out. She says “Someone will have to clean it”. I do not deign to answer this comment. I take my pictures (see below).

Her: This is your responsibility.

Me: (Throwing eyes to heaven) No, it’s not. Look, can you please leave me alone, I am trying to be helpful by standing here in the bucketing rain photographing your car while carrying my child, whom you have terrified and, just in case you haven’t noticed, I’m 6 months pregnant (regret that I did not add “with twins” for added pathos).

Her: Well, I’m pregnant too!

Me: (Momentarily arrested, looking at her flat stomach, in deep surprise, but thinking, this could explain why she’s behaving so oddly): Um, really, how many months?

Her: (Very aggressively) Well, no, I’m not actually pregnant.

Me: (Baffled silence) OK, look, give me your card and I’ll email you the
photos.

Her: No.

Me: OK….why don’t I print them out for you?

Her: Snort.

We trail damply back upstairs. I print out the photos.

Her: I should call the police.

Me: (Thinking that really the police are bound to be better than this madwoman who won’t leave)
Look, feel free, you can use our phone.

Her: Snatches photos from my limp grasp and marches out banging the door.

Princess: Nasty lady, big bang Mummy.

By now it was 7.30. The Princess consented to leave go of my neck and I prepared the royal dinner and persuaded her to eat same. Off we went to the bath. At 8.00, when our babysitter arrived, the Princess was still in the bath. I heard her calling from the hall “Madame, Madame” and I was a bit fed up because she knows that her arrival will make the Princess hyper and usually if we are putting her (the Princess, obviously, don’t be difficult) to bed, the babysitter just waits in the dining room until we emerge. So I stuck my head into the hall only to see that our babysitter had brought two male friends. I looked at her surprised.

“Madame, la police” said she. I went back to the bathroom and whisked herself out of the bath. She was delighted to see our babysitter but a bit surprised to see two policemen with guns and bullet proof vests.

Policeman 1(addressing himself to Princess): Hello there!

Me: Um…

Policeman 2: We’ve come about the pot plant.

Me: Ah yes, well, it’s not our pot plant, let me show you the windowsill.

Policemen: (perfectly agreeably) Yes that seems reasonable.

Policeman 1 to Policeman 2: Bet it’s on the top floor where they have the
balcony.

Both policemen: Sorry to have disturbed you (and to Princess) night, night little girl.

Even though I think that it is odd to have to come out to investigate falling pot plant incidents with guns and bullet proof jackets, am sorry that they hadn’t been called much earlier as they were speedy and pleasant.

Got the Princess into bed by 8.30 and whizzed out to dinner a shadow of my former self. When I got home about midnight, I woke up my loving husband. “You’re never going to believe what happened to me”. “Can I not believe it in the morning?” he said, somewhat tactlessly. However, you will be delighted to hear that once fully awoken by the simple expedient of turning on the light, Mr. Waffle nobly expressed sympathy and a manly desire to protect me from any future pot plant unpleasantness.

Comments

stroppycow on 30 June 2005 at 21:02 Didn’t know Belgium had “care in the community” too. Sounds particularly unpleasant. I hope she finds a life / her medication / a great big hole to fall into (delete as applicable) and leaves you in peace in the future. If she turns up again call te police straight away and watch out for falling flowerpots.

KateEvans on 30 June 2005 at 21:07 This makes me want to fly to Belgium, come by your flat, buy a potted plant on the way and hurl it from your window onto her car.

beachhutman on 30 June 2005 at 21:48 Top blogging Waffy!

UndercoverCookie on 01 July 2005 at 10:05 And now Princess will think being rude warrants calling the police. To be remembered next time she throws a tantrum.

London mom on 01 July 2005 at 10:16 Ah – that reminds me why I left Belgium…that woman is obviously bonkers…

BarbieDollAbroad on 01 July 2005 at 10:48 great story!!

poggle on 01 July 2005 at 10:58 I bet she carries the plantpot around IN her car – otherwise how could there be no damage? She placed it on there (carefully) herself. She’s got no friends, see – nobody to talk to. As menace says – mentalist ….

Kate_Sith on 01 July 2005 at 11:01 I particularly liked the ‘I’m pregnant, too’ ruse.

Lilo on 01 July 2005 at 12:59 Obviously the mentalist had a drug habit, hence all the snorting. A sweetie for the ordeal and for dealing with the nutter so helpfully – I’d have probably got a bit rude in that situation.

Lilo on 01 July 2005 at 12:59 Sorry – forgot to attach this. 1
Sweetie(s) given

jackdalton on 01 July 2005 at 17:15 Next time use a breeze block. And wait until she’s in the car. Problem solved: Brussels is a better place.

belgianwaffle on 01 July 2005 at 21:45 Oooh Menace, a sweetie too. Ta.
Stroppy, the hole sounds best, I think.
Kate E, I’m touched and you (really) pregnant and everything.
BHM, too kind, my material was provided by a mad woman and that always helps.
But cookie, the police were really NICE, she liked them. Thank you for your sweetie.
London Mom, to be fair, I don’t think she was a native, she sounded kind of Spanish actually.
BDA, thank you, you are most kind.
Pog, I like that image. I will treasure it.
Kate S, I know, it was really weird. I mean what was the point of that?
Lilo, thank you for your sweetie. I did think that I was kind of rude, I mean I told a complete stranger (well I suppose not complete after nearly half an hour in my house) that she was deeply unpleasant. In retrospect, I wonder if that added to the atmosphere?
JD, fantastic. Thank you.

Bobble on 03 July 2005 at 17:31 belated hugs on this one Waffly. And there is no finer word than mentalist to describe this harpy.

belgianwaffle on 03 July 2005 at 19:19 Bobble, you are kind..

Hurrah, my traffic has gone through the roof, Beth has mentioned me on her blog.  Otherwise today has not been a fantastic day.  No work. Good.  Decided to go to Planckendael. Bad. When we left Brussels, it was nice and sunny. I was wearing my trail about in the mud flares that I got in a mutton dressed as lamb moment. This is important. It was raining in Planckendael. It was muddy.  Unlike teenagers who don’t mind being wet to the knees in their trendy trousers, I like to be dry. So I rolled my trendy jeans up to the knee exposing a lot of hairy leg (look, I am still getting over the rash, shaving is not good – if you care, you will be glad to know that, at least, my legs no longer
look leprous). This is not really the look I was going for.
Meanwhile my daughter splashed in numerous puddles and had a fab time getting wet to the knee. The animals were all, very sensibly, indoors and invisible. Mr. Waffle pointed out that for 30 euros less and considerably more conveniently, we could have had the same experience in the park round the corner from our flat. Without wishing to sound at all partisan, I would like to go on record as saying Planckendael is not half as good as Fota.
We arrived home sodden and muddy. Put the Princess to bed for a nap and collapsed on the sofa. Mr. Waffle’s brother and his wife are coming to stay this evening. I hope that they’re prepared for a quiet time with lots of lovely babysitting…