Summer in the city

This coming weekend Belgium for once will hold that most enviable label of hottest place to be in Europe.

People have started driving like nutters, speeding with their car windows open, although we have yet to be subjected to insistent rap music or Rai stuff (which sometimes can be very good.) I always say that the accident rate rises in line with the degrees on the thermometer and the hemlines: the more skin women start to exhibit, the higher the chances of the hormonal young males in this city crashing into something. So far, only two buses down the road. Everyone escaped in pristine condition.

At the gym, there is currently an influx of weedy, tight-bodied women, who spend hours on the stairmaster or any other of the torture instruments that are so popular with women with a bikini itch, that needs scratching. I have never felt the need to make such a spectacle of myself clothes-wise. As you might have guessed, I have biked past the entrance of the gym, but I did not make it inside (too much work this week).

The good news is that now the terrace is open again, I can work outside. No noise whatsoever except the odd airplane.

Bliss.

PS - Pic to follow, but the harsh sunlight is impeding my creative and photographic juices.