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On Being Boring

I moved from London to Brussels with my husband nearly 10 years ago. When I told people we were moving, the news was greeted with bemusement: why did we want to move to a city that was possibly the most boring place on earth? Ten years later and I can honestly say that I've had more fun here than I ever did living in London. It might not be the most exciting city in the world but it is a fantastic place to live. It is full of hidden treasures that you probably never get to see as a tourist: wonderful shops, amazing food, great museums and galleries, beautiful architecture, a forest (yes, a whole forest), and so much more... And if that doesn't convince you, well, get on a train and you could be in Paris, Amsterdam, Cologne or, yes, London in no more than a couple of hours... Which other city can you say that about?

Fantasy Dinner Party

Blog every day in May, day 26: Dinner party time – Who would you invite? What music is playing? What are you eating? Is there entertainment? Let your imagination go wild!

WHO? No-one but me. No heros, no luminaries, no celebrities. Just me. Having anyone fancy-pants sitting with me at the table would just make me feel awkward and uncomfortable. And what’s more, I’d prefer my idols to stay idols. I don’t want to see them scratching their bums or picking their noses or being real actual human beings in any way whatsoever. And no children either. When my children are at the table, I’m no longer in fantasy land; I’m in mummy land where I have to hassle people to eat. Eat! Please please eat! With your fork! Your fork, not your hands! No, leave your food on your plate. Put down the water! No. No! NOOO! Urgh. And now we have spagetti floating across the table in a bolognese “jus”. So yeah, just me…

WHERE? In my flat. Not just my flat though, but my flat after it has been professionally cleaned and polished and tidied. So everything is sparkling and and the surfaces are clear – except, perhaps, for some beautiful, fresh flowers on the table.

WHEN? On a warm summer’s evening, with the windows wide open, beautiful evening light mingling with the sound of singing birds.

WHAT? A selection of cheeses and pickles, freshly baked bread, and a chilled glass of Monbazillac (and no, I don’t care that it wouldn’t be the “right” wine to eat with cheese so there’s really no point in telling me).

WHAT ELSE? A copy of my favorite interiors magazine.

That’s it. That simple. It would be divine. Failing that though, I’d have to pick this or this.

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