Yes, I finally broke the ice with Inna—and yet I have no memory at all of what happened in the room. I have no visual memory; was she on top of me, underneath me, bending over? No idea. I have not got a single picture in my mind of what took place. I am sure an encounter took place, but I have no evidence of any kind to prove it. Therefore, I must do it again. Belgium is such a lovable country, and Brussels such a lovable city, it is so perverse it is facing this mortal danger right now; threatened to be blown limb from limb every time we go shopping. This perversity must surely end soon; every band of losers has their shelf life; let us hope this one is nearer its end than its beginning.