Monday, 12 November 2018

Just realised the little shop where I normally buy my cheap beer is called the Belgian Express Shop—disappointed it is still closed at 1045am

Just realised the little shop where I normally buy my cheap beer is called the Belgian Express Shop—disappointed it is still closed at 1045am, so I’m having to trek all the way to the other side of the road. As always, though there has been NOTHING to excite me on this trip to Brussels (I’ve scarcely given it any chance—in bed by 5 or 6pm both nights never to re-emerge!), I still love to be here, and am so glad I have two more full days here to relax, drink and eat—and have an hour or two in a porn cinema or ogling the floozies in Fifth Avenue. Seriously, I have to FORCE myself not to go out to Fifth till LATE on Monday, but I don’t know how I can do it. The rain stopping has ruined all my plans—there is nothing I find more uninspiring than that grey AFTER RAIN atmosphere. Four Belgian police officers strolling down under my window—the blonde lady dragging on a cigarette—don’t think this would be allowed in the Metropolitan Police in London!

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