DAY THREE: Diary of Clint Iguana Aged 59 and 3/4 – ish
The day started with me getting me blog proofread, by a professional proofreader, who – it turns out – is shit at spelling.
Next up we thought we would head into town and walk up the famous twelfth century belfry tower thing. Then we discovered it was £14 to walk up the hundred and sixty-six steps. So we gave it a miss and went around the corner to The Basilica of the Holy Blood, a Roman Catholic basilica that contains a piece of cloth soaked in the blood of Christ. The architecture is stunning, with amazing stained-glass windows. Built between 1134 and 1157, you cannot help but marvel at the skill and dedication of those that built it, but at the same time wonder about how much money was spent on it whilst others around the church were no doubt struggling to make ends meet, to put it mildly.
Once done, we headed up to the cafe on top of the Historium (museum) overlooking the square. We had beers, watched the world go by and cursed the builders for not putting it opposite the belfry, instead of to the side of it. No doubt Instagram was not about then.
Next stop was the Potato Bar, which sold Elderflower Stongbow – yes, you read that correctly. The food was nice, but it was not helped by regular wafts of stuff you don’t want to smell when eating – presumably every time somebody flushed, flooding the ancient sewers.
Eventually Posh and Becks arrive and we go for a stroll and find a cafe/building site on the banks of the river and drink Black Russians.
To break up the drinking we go for a ride on a boat. I’m glad we did the walking tour yesterday because we didn’t really learn much as we sped past historical sites with the driver rattling off the bare minimum of facts in four different languages.
By this time we were losing the will to find new restaurants, so headed back to Amuni, the amazing Italian we ate in on the first night. We didn’t even have the energy to choose new food, so basically relived the first meal we had, before slowly dragging ourselves back to the house. We are not as young as we used to be and don’t have the energy anymore. Did I mention I will be sixty this week?
Next stop – Brussels.