I may have to revise my opinion of Brussels a little. Any place where the office organises an impromptu champagne party on a Monday afternoon can’t be all bad. The champagne was mediocre, but the principle was sound.

A note to the burger connoisseurs out there: France and Belgium have a burger chain called Quick, whose burgers are amazing. If you like the taste of cardboard that is. Perhaps vegetarians own the franchise?

I never really liked Brussels and now that I have seen more of it, I’m not likely to revise my opinion. Brussels is crumbling but, unlike Paris, that jaded old whore, that is dying elegantly and in style, Brussels is withering away in the shame brought about by it’s own blandness

A note to the unwary: Those who do not wish to be ripped off by “enterprising” taxi drivers, there are two Place Saint Lambert in Brussels, about 850 Belgian Francs apart.

Waterloo International Train Station. Home of the Eurostar in the UK, decent salmon bagels and a herd of sheep more commonly known as tourists. Why these people charge, barge and clamber to be on the train as quick as possible I’ll never understand, since everyone has a fixed seat reservation. So, I enjoy my Monday morning bagel, while gleefully watching the furious glances of the English-speaking, queue-respecting travelers being shot at the French-speaking queue-resistant travelers. This gaggle always seems on the verge of an all-out fight but, disappointingly, never quite crosses that hair thin line.

All good things are worth taking a break from and one of them is fiction. So, I submit here the beginnings of my Travelogue. Apologies will not be made for bigotry and hypocrisy.