It’s true. Three minutes of ferocious stair-rod rain, and it is clear blue blazing skies again. Disgusting! No, no, this isn’t what I expect of Brussels. I expect all day lashing rain. You cannot even rely on the rain in Brussels anymore!
Oh! Oh! Suddenly the blue skies all turned rather grey! A sudden gloom, mon ami. Where did that come from? I should go back up to my room for my brolly! Though as my adorable ex-wife will tell you, I will probably only carry it in the rain, rather than putting it up. Like wearing gloves when it is only slightly cold (or arctic), putting up an umbrella in the rain seems so WEAK. But, to be honest, the skies are suddenly looking pretty cataclysmic. OK, now the skies, and the trees, look positively like Armageddon. All of a sudden, people are running along the road with coats over their heads, and brollies blowing inside out. NOW is time to go out. Still I—hesitate. OK, now there is proper rain. I don’t mean the drizzly rain but STAIRRODS! To be honest, I don’t want to go out in this. Oh! So boring! It’s stopped already and bloody blue skies are right behind it! What the hell?! Feeling really hungry now (8 cans); a walk, an early Fifth Avenue, and I’ll be ready for a lovely lovely lovely Brussels Grill and Domino’s Pizza. Yes, that’s right, only just got up from bed and already looking forward to getting back to it again. I am on holiday monsieurs. Leave me alone!
Yes, I tell myself please please go to these places like Fifth Avenue sober for a change, so for once I can actually feel something when I have sex; but it is only when I feel really wild with drink that I want to do anything with them, and it is in the WILDNESS that I get my high. I need to feel that wildness, otherwise there is no point. So I will go on having numb, zero-sensation sex with no ejaculation. How incredibly happy I feel in the rain. Coming out of Cine Paris the first spots of rain started to fall on my head. My spirits soared immediately. Alas, it only lasted for a minute or so and by the time I got here to Fifth Avenue it had already stopped, and blue skies come out. Two rubbish films in Cine Paris. I bemoaned the constant diet of Dorcel films but when he shows something different they are always worse.
I would like to go to City2 to buy some more shoes for myself but they seem to think it is still high on the list of targets for “jihadis” planning their next pathetic “outrage”; it would be just my luck to get killed nipping in for a pair of shoes. A grey day but seeming to be brightening, unfortunately. I hope it darkens again and starts pelting down.
Back in the Max Hotel, and oh I cannot help thinking “Home Sweet Home”. It started raining as soon as I started walking down from Gare du Nord. Lovely. I’m not sure I’m ever happier than when in Brussels in the rain. We will see if there is ANY excitement for me later to justify this. Vienna was disappointing last time, Berlin was massively disappointing (the final nail in the coffin I’m afraid); Brussels can you salvage anything for me? F—king Gareth Bale. F—king Daniel Sturridge! At last. England’s luck has changed.
Off the Eurostar, bag in locker (4,50) and in L’Orient Express by 12.29. My Berlin train leaves at 225pm. My first beer of this trip. Ice cold Jupiler (25cl, 1,80). Incredible. I literally just came out of the station and crossed the road in the heat and blazing sunshine. Now sipping my first beer, it is lashing down with rain, from dark skies. That came out of nowhere. Ah, the glory of Brussels in the rain!