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I've thought for some time now that referees are nowadays primarily there to change the outcome of games, not to referee them.Last night's display by Ovrebo on behalf of UEFA, merely confirmed that.He blatantly ignored a number of 'cast iron' penalty appeals by Chelsea with some bizarre decisions.As an Everton fan, I have lost count of how many times we have been on the receiving end of rough justice.It must happen at least half a dozen times a season.The Hellas Verona fans have a saying for it. 'A Figura di Merda'....loosely translated it means 'this shit happens too often', and ususally against teams with more infuence due to their stature.Clattenburg and Collina have been particularly effective exponents of this approach against the Toffees in recent times.Fortunately neither of them are no longer refereeing.There is no point protesting against it you Chelsea Headhunters,as you well know,the refs decision is final.Welcome to our world.
Before leaving Belgium I had a score to settle.I had heard tell of a little bar down a short impasse(cul de sac in French!) called the Floris Bar.The attraction....... Absinthe.Being a lover of pernod,aniseed ,liquorice and being off my tits;I just had to find it.After two unhappy attempts(well it is in a cul de sac) I caught up with the place.There, in all their grandeur across two bars;over 300 different blends.I couldn't wait.
Not wishing to take any chances I went striaght for the most expensive.7.50 euros.It was served with a spoon,lump of sugar(diabetic my arse) and a cute looking water carrier to allow it to be diluted to suit.This absinthe, called '1901' was absolutely delicious.With subtle flavours of aniseed, liquorice and more aniseed.After 15mins I was starting to get a stupid grin on my face, while feeling very mellow.The second was half the price,was blue in colour(?) and tasted like meths.But given that they were both 70 proof,I was, by now starting to feel very,very mellow and developing a 'vinegar strokes' style facial rictus.
Mad,bad,and dangerous to know.I've got a bottle of the '1901' on order!
Nivelles has recently had it's annual carnival.When I got wind of it, I was a bit sceptical.Belgians/Carnival;well you just don't associate boring Belgians with serious partying do you?Well it won't be no Rio, or so I thought.'Carnivals' in England usually go on for a day,then end up in a riot or a few stabbings.In Nivelles this was serious drinking and partying and more drinking and more partying and and and....
Day 1.The Friday.I got to the bar in the late evening.Most of the young ones were already the worse for wear.For the first time my instincts were telling me that trouble may be around the corner.It was.A young gobshite decided it was Ok to keep repeating "For sure....For sure" in my face. I humoured him.He kept up.I humoured him.As he was about to leave he decided to pour what was left of his drink into my drink.Not funny.Lord Roby had his adams apple between ones thumb and forefinger in no time.The security guy was over like a shot and turfed the gobshite out.Fortunately it was Lord Roby's local and he was the stranger! Lord Roby lasted til 1am and 'retired' pissed.I say retired because the beat of the music and drums was right outside, and below my gaff.It may as well have been in my bedroom!!
It ended at about 5am.At about the same time it started again for Day 2!The Saturday.Saturday I was up for it.An all day sesh!I did my best but was in bed with by midnight.It went on again until 5am.At which point Day 2 ended and Day 3 began.Where were these guys and girls putting it all.The drumming was incessant because everytime a costumed carnival goer moves,the tradition is that a drummer follows them.Even for a pee!The Sunday,Day 3,I had plans to drive into Germany.I had had no sleep for the second night, so I decided to go out for a coffee at 10am.
As I negotiated the drunks on my doorstep a Belgette confronted me with a free glass of Champagne.Some things I never refuse.As it happened I had a bottle of LP in the fridge.By midday I/we were blitzed on bubbly.This carnival just got better.The Belgettes were dangerously drunk by now.Lord Roby managed to slip off to bed for a couple of hours before the 'Parade' started.The parade was a 500 strong procession of various factions.Some men only ,some girls only,others for kids as well,and some parodies,like " Shalom Rabbi" which just repeated the same song and dance for days on end, all dressed in orthodox Jewish costume.
Sunday night I had to 'cool' it, as I had work the next day at 7am.No point.The partying went on in my absence.No sleep again.The party ended(thankfully) AT 5AM.Day 4.The Monday.This is the day for the locals to celebrate(as if they haven't already).The evening was a family affair, after a day of throwing thousands of blood oranges around.Day 4 ended with burning of effigies over birch twigs in a pagan stylee,while all the locals sang in tongues and swayed.It was all getting a bit like an episode of the Avengers.But nontheless pleasant.I got to bed at about midnight.The party went on.No sleep again.The drumming was by now monotonous in the extreme.
I got home on Tuesday,Day 5 and it was still going on.It ended at 8pm with a firework display right outside my window.I had survived it.
This carnival is repeated on consecutive weekends throughout Spring,albeit in different towns,for 3 months...to banish the Winter.Who says the Belgians are boring!
Well the inevitable finally happened. A Belgian kiss! I didn't even ask for it or give him permission.I just leaned forward to hear him a bit better, amongst the noise of the carnival.Honest! And he took this bob as a come on.I'm worried now that if I bump into him tonight, for round two of the carnival, that he will expect me to return the 'favour'.Am I now his Belgian Bitch?. It's been 5 months in coming.Is there a waiting list for Belgian kisses?Do you have to earn your lips? As luck would have it there quite a few more today.Thankfully they were all from Belgettes.Strange then that all this affection should come after my first run-in with a local gobshite the night before.I guess the Carnival brings out the best and the worst in some people.Vive La carnival.
"Broken glass....nowhere....people pissin on the floor you know they just don't care." Well it is Belgium after all.Men AND women are partial to a bit of what us Brits refer to as indecent exposure.The main difference between driving to work every morning here and in Two Dogs is the total absence of broken glass as a result of local Hedz or Neds (as they are called in Glasgow) smashing up as many bus shelters as they fancy.I also don't have to worry about walking alone anywhere at night.In fact I seem to be the only person out on the street after 10pm.I don't know if there is a voluntary curfew, or whether the kids here are kept well in check by good parenting.But it is a total pleasure to walk out at night without worrying about what gathering you may happen across,and whether you should make a detour to avoid it.After 16 the kids are allowed in the pubs whereas in England they are completely cast adrift.Those that don't/won't work don't have anywhere else to inhabit.Consequently they don't have much to lose.The message.Look after the kids and they just might look after you!.... P.S The bus shelters do stink of pish though!!
So it was off to the Alps for the weekend.These are the things that you can do when living in central Europe.Just catch a TGV and in 4 hours you're there.Except in an effort to compromise,I decided to stop short of the high alps in favour of more leisure(beer) time in Chambery.Well how was I to know that Bourg St Maurice at the end of the line, was the last stop for Val D'Isere! How was I to know the World Downhill Skiing Championships were going on that very weekend! Chambery was deserted.Guess were everyone was and I wasn't?All I had to do was stay on the train an hour or two longer and I would have been trailing in the wake of Franz Klammer,Patrick Tomba, and Harti Weirather....I may have even got a glimpse of Anya Pearson....all this with the late David Vine's dulcet tones filling my head with nostalgia.Except it didn't happen.I didn't do my usual homework before booking a trip.This time, more than any other time, I paid a high price for my ignorance.It was still a pleasant weekend but it could have been so much more.At least I know where Val D'Isere is now.Pity David Vine didn't spell it out, all them 'Ski Sunday' years ago!
Lord Roby has been ill recently.Very ill indeed.At the height/depth of this maladie things were a tad desperate.As I travelled home on the Monday evening, wondering why I was shaking all over, I decided to top up on fuel.I unwittingly gave my card in and then proceeded to drive away without paying.Upon arrival at my apartment it dawned on me that as well as a nasty virus,I was also experiencing my first attack of hypoglyceamia.The thing with this is;the tank is almost empty but like a 'replicant' you don't know exactly when the axe will fall.I searched in vain for Lucozade.None to be found. Off to the supermarket for Gatorade.On the way I stopped to get some cash.No card! Back to the apartment for loose change.Up 3 flights of stairs.Getting weaker by the second.Off to the local Co-Op.NoGatorade.Cakes perchance.Off to the pattiserie.All patisseries shut on Monday, as they are open all day Sunday.Getting seriously delirious by now.Stumbling along as if I'm pissed,mumbling cake,cake,cake!Then from nowhere as if by magic I am approached by two young very cute Belgettes.After explaining I was English and didn't understand a word she had said,the cuter of the two asked me 'If I thought her friend was pretty' !!! Ordinarily this may have led to a rather pleasant exchange.Except in this instance it was my turn to ask them if they had any sweets!! They didn't.I guess I may have inadvertantly hit upon the way to a Belgettes heart.Act pissed and repeat the word 'Cake' over and over.I returned to my apartment, Co-op cake in hand to find myself locked out!! Game Over.
