No sooner had we arrived in Belgium than we left. One of the exciting things about being back in Europe is how close we are to England, so after a week getting used to "la vie Belges" we jumped on the Eurostar for the two-hour trip to London.
Sadly, while we returned to Europe, Britain has left it. Most political decisions have only an oblique effect on us hoi polloi, but as I stood in the long line to emigrate from Belgium before joining the next line to immigrate to the UK, all before even leaving Belgian soil, I again cursed the 51.89% of my country that voted to personally inconvenience me.
No matter - once on the train we were quickly surrounded by the verdant Belgian countryside and, after a quick stop in Lille, into the darkness of the Chunnel before emerging to grey skies and rain, and several Covid tests. We're spending the week pootling around the West Country and trying to get used to the strange experience of seeing family in real life for the first time in over two years. Unlike on Skype, I'm apparently expected to have trousers on when talking to people in person.
