Parting is such sweet sorrow

I know what you're thinking.....more love life trauma for Hartley. Clearly didn't believe me when I told you I was over men then did you.....man trouble is so 2011 ;-)

No the title refers to saying goodbye to two special people who haven't been in my life for long - but will stay in my heart forever. I met Rach on a yacht in the middle of the Caribbean, she impressed me with her ability to snorkel at about 20 knots/ hour and her match making skills. We were going to be great friends.

Since those blissful Central America days I've seen the girls a lot - we glamped in the lakes, drank copious amounts of beer in Munich and have eaten and drunk all over Brixton Village.

Then came the devastating news that the lovely R and her boy Ringo were moving back to Australia. Gulp. Leaving. I'll be honest I don't like the idea of London without Rachael - doesn't feel quite right. Who was going to try and convince me to get involved in tag rugby ( Rach tried every time I saw her; highly amusing; never going to happen but hey nice to be wanted).

I tried to see as much of Rach as I could before she went, but it wasn't long before the final supper arrived. Friends were gathered, secretive instructions to meet at 43 Saltoun Road, Brixton were issued, top floor flat, penalties for latecomers. Ordinarily I'm no good with secrets ( Brother Paul can testify to my Xmas present unwrapping tendencies) but mainly due to rubbish work interfering in my detective work - I arrived pretty much non the wiser.

The doorbell had SSC written on it. A young French man let me in ( I say young, lets go with 25) - and I ascended up stairs into the quirkiest flat I've ever been in. Bric a brac tastic. A truly incredible place. The owner, and chef for the night told me about the concept. Excited face - I'd finally made it to a supper club. Rach and Ringo have lovely friends and we spent a pretty special evening drinking leftover booze ( pretty good leftovers, Laurent Perrier was flowing), eating incredible food and checking out all the trinkets.

Five courses later - smoked ham salad, a beautiful celeriac velouté served in a Hendricks Tea cup were our first two courses. Duck with giant couscous was our melt in the mouth main, and we polished it off with a special 4 chocolate pudding, and some mega strong coffee.

Rach and Ringo proved their uber couple of the decade title by gifting all of us individual books, personally inscribed - and photos of us with them. Very, very cute my friends. I got described as an English girl who actually did stuff when I got my Wild swimming book - chuffed to bloody bits.

I'm going to end this now before I get emotional - they leave tomorrow I'm picturing them sailing off into the sunset together - who wants to let Grey miserable Heathrow get in the way of a good story.

Can't understand why you'd want to leave.......

Wish I'd taken Rach up on that electric blanket offer....


Xx

No mussels in Brussels

A few years ago I'd never had any real desire to visit Belgium - they seemed a little odd - who chooses mayo over ketchup to accompany chips. But then I met Maartje backpacking in China, and I'm now a regular visitor.

That said its Ghent I've been to the most - and 'the capital of Europe' as Brussels amusingly likes to call itself has evaded me. It's meant to have the biggest Christmas market in Europe ( never got to check this; Belgium decided to open the market the week after I was visiting) - so the plan was to meet Maartje in Ghent for a night, but then train it to Brussels for Saturday night to drink mulled wine at the Xmas market - ho hum.

To get things starting off in the right vein, I had a glass of champagne ( toasting new baby Newbolt) in the lovely bar at St Pancras, and hopped on the train. I bloomin love the Eurostar - it's all so easy, lovely French accents help you onboard. Gatwick Airport needs to come visit and learn a few things.

Friday night was spent exchanging gifts ( they have a cute tradition in Belgium - on December 6th children put a shoe out for St Nicholas overnight, a la Rudolph and Santa - and they get filled with chocolates).

We arrive in Brussels the next day, I'd bargain hunted a room in the lovely Hilton Brussels city for €70 - and after a bit of tourist time staring at buildings and chocolate shops we made the most of the spa. Ignoring the naked couple in the steam room it was a great way to spend the afternoon. Stress oozed out of every pore.

There is a beautiful cinema in Brussels- Galleries Cinema which is in a gorgeous, ornate shopping arcade. One of those arty cinema's I love - but in a city whose main language is French, but the rest of Belgium is Flemish/Dutch speaking the chances of an English film showing was slim. The girl assured us though that a Danish movie had English subtitles. Cool. Only it didn't. Tempting though it was to admire the person in front's head and stare at the ceiling - trying to work out Danish ( with Dutch subtitles) film- we only saw the trailers and 5 minutes of the movie. Jagten will have to wait. Mojitos in a South American place were a good consolation ( people book in Brussels, we had many other doors closed on us with a very impolite 'non')

Sunday proved to me that although Brussels is a lovely city, it's inhabitants are indeed weird. Post Brunch in the lovely Louisa area of town ,we head into Parc de Bruxelles. There were curious objects dotted around the place, up close they were 2 metre statues of erm Sprouts, Mussels and Frites.

Odd I tell you..........