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Now matter how enjoyable your journey, it is always nice to arrive back home. Back to my own bed, my own kitchen, and a pile of email and voicemails that need attention.

It was a good journey back. It seems the German trains run the same on a Saturday (and a Sunday for all I know) as they do on a weekday, so I took the 10h02 Thalys I’d had my eye on and was in Brussels in time for lunch. On the one hand this was bad as my Eurostar ticket was non-exchangable, so I was stuck there, in the rain, until 18h56. On the other, it was good, as it meant I got away from the woman beside me on the train who had spent since Aachen passing wind and had body odour that would kill a skunk.

Much as I like Brussels, it is not a place to be in the rain. I went to the Atomium and rode up and down its escalators, admiring the 1958 memorabilia and looking at the rain through the portholes.

Once that option was exhausted, I hauled my rucksack around town looking for presents to take home. I knew exactly what I was after, but it took a while to track down the right shop. In the end they refused to take my credit card as I was

This entry was posted on Saturday, October 12th, 2002 at 11:55 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.