So this curiously sexless sojourn in Brussels nears its end. Not feeling in the mood for anything naughty at any point. Maybe too anaesthetised with lovely ice cold watery Jupiler beer; maybe too many things to do back at home making me anxious to be back and get on with them; I don’t know. A brief stop in Cine Paris, then up to Rue d’Aerschot—Mariana the pick of the windows again. Her bosoms are extraordinary. But even with her I did not feel at all tempted to stay. A Brussels Grill Steak then back to bed. 8pm now, and I try to prepare to go out again.
The second beer went down quickly; I’m on to the 33cl cans now. That first 50cl can from the shop took forever; but the big cans are 1,50 in the shop and the small cans are 2 euros in the Max vending machine. Intime opens at 9pm, as do the Rue de Livourne places, but Reves doesn’t open till 11pm! Not a big fan of walking the streets of Brussels that late at night; I am really not a late night person anymore. I prefer to go places in the afternoon these days. Although I suppose I could stay in Cine Paris till it closes at 11pm, and then start my long walk from there. 1149am.
A Simon Mignolet can of Jupiler today. In tribute to the great man I dropped it and spilt it all over the floor, and received terrible abuse (in French) from the cleaning lady. Excuse my French, as my mother used to say, when swearing. Why was swearing known as “French”? Do people say that all over England? Excuse my French? This beer is having no effect on me; it is usual. By the 4th day I am now completely sodden with it, and it has no effect at all. Diminishing returns. On Monday after Inna, I said let me now do something EVERY DAY on this holiday! Well I did nothing Tuesday in Nuremberg or Wednesday back in Brussels, and here we are on the 4th day. And I don’t even have a single memory of what I did even with Inna.
With no more beer in my minibar, and no sign of the minibar lady (who to me is like some kind of goddess, oh goddess of beer), I am forced down to the bar at 1120, which I had preferred to avoid on this trip—I don’t like the bar’s Zipfer as much as I like the minibar Gösser and in my room I can enjoy my music channel. Plans for today, perhaps the U-Bahn up to Wahringer Gurtel Kino, back down to WSK, maybe Burggasse Peep maybe not, then finish off in Café Westend before crashing out back in the hotel; ready to wake in time to go back out tonight. I will save the Belvedere for tomorrow.
1044 On my first beer of the day. This time yesterday we were just 10 minutes across the border into Austria, with another 2½ hours on the train still to come.
How lovely to be back in a Dorint hotel room. Not only was there a Granny Smith apple left in the room for me—the only kind of apple I like—but they had stocked the minibar with just the things I drink, so there were 6 bottles of Gösser beer instead of the normal 2, 2 bottles of sparkling water instead of 1 sparkling 1 flat, and 1 bottle of coke. It is like they studied my minibar habits and stocked the minibar especially for me! Amazing. That is the personal touch.
Olympique Marseille v Bordeaux on the Orient Express TV—Christ, French football is so slow & boring. No wonder PSG win the league by 20 points every year. The sun is about 1 minute away from going down behind the Midi railway tracks, and out of my eyes at least. My train to Nuremberg is not until 10.25 in the morning so at least I should be able to have a long sleep tonight. I need it. I don’t know how French football supporters don’t slash their wrists; this is dire. Barmaid just brought another beer to my table, I didn’t even ask. Well, that decides it; I am having one more then, it seems! It is supposed to rain tonight; that would be lovely; but no sign of it right now. Now the crowd at the football match are rioting. Out of sheer f–king boredom, I expect. As I have been for most of my time here, I am the only customer in L’Orient Express.