Lad with a bladder problem

So, we have moved on yet again, and it was no less than an ordeal to get here. Not an ordeal in terms of anything going wrong – in fact it all went as smooth-as-silk and is a testament to people knowing what they’re doing in terms of public transit. But, yesterday was gruelling, nevertheless, and today we are taking it very easy, just wandering around and appreciating a little leisure before moving on. Oh, and I thought I could not leave this blog posting without sharing with you my encounter with Brussels’ possibly most famous former citizen, the little boy now known as Manneken Pis. Many stories surround this tiny bit of statuary, and on this particular day he is adorned in surgical scrubs, I know not why, but the Brussels Museum has literally hundreds of costumes that are put on the statue of what can only be described as a little boy taking a leak.

Otherwise, in some ways we didn’t want to leave Brussels so soon, but other commitments were calling on us. And, we had linked up with our friends Shelley and Dean, and had a wonderful day with them and ate royally in a very classy restaurant.

But, yesterday morning we arose early and headed out to catch the ‘Eurostar’ for London. The entire trip takes a bit more than two hours, thanks to the ‘Chunnel’. Chunnel, I must confess, was a bit of a disappointment. I mean, I don’t really know what I was expecting but somehow something more dramatic. Anyway, we are there riding in the sunshine through a bit of northern France, and then we could see Calais in the distance, and then it was dark. That was it. Just dark. Dark for about 20 minutes. And then, after that time had elapsed, we were in Kent, England. Quite amazing all things considered, but I somehow thought it should be more dramatic.

By the way, the security checks before you get on the Eurostar to take the Chunnel route are as stringent as at any airport, such is the threat of terrorism.

Anyway, we arrived in London on the day the Queen was opening Parliament, so traffic in London was even more congested than normal in the capital. But, thanks to a brilliant cabbie (and all London cabbies are brilliant) we made our way from Waterloo Station to Liverpool St. Station, whence we caught the train to Norwich, with literally five minutes to spare. Arriving at Norwich, we had less than five minutes to get the little train to Great Yarmouth. But, we got it, and now we are here.

So, as I said, Great Yarmouth was my hometown for a year 25 years ago, and more about that later. It feels weird to be back, and there have been lots of changes, but none of my feelings are negative.

Back whenever I can.