Mad as a Mad March Hare.

So much has happened since I last wandered in this direction that I haven't even had time to even think about what has actually happened.

Starting from the end, I couldn't blog to a sudden and mad dash at decorating.

Before that, though....

I have become a qualified First Aider.

Yes. Me.

I can help save your life - unless you do something that I didn't learn about. Then you are pretty well stuffed. Well, I almost killed the dummy when attempting mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I forgot to hold the dummy's nose as it was covered in a cloth which made me forget that while I was blowing into it's mouth like a trumpet player, all the air was coming out through it's nose. I thought it felt rather drafty, but I didn't put it down to my own breath coming out of the dummy's nose. I know now and have the certificate to prove it.

Oh yes. I'm qualified. For 3 years, too.

So I did that. I also finished my Assertiveness Course and no longer swear too much at people to get what I want. Something tells me that I should re-take the course. I then went on to take a photography course but ended up stopping due to some decorating that badly needed doing.

My parents informed me of their visit at the beginning of March. All hell broke out, as did the sun. But that's for another day.

Maybe tomorrow.

But I can attempt to save your life in the meantime.

Just don't die.

Waves of homesickness.

As I sat having my hair cut last Saturday I reached to unwrap the biscuit given to me with my coffee. It was a speculoos. Just a silly biscuit made me think of the days when I bought the very same biscuits for my children for their packed lunches - not a touch on the ones bought from Dandoy, but then, you wouldn't buy biscuits from that shop for your child's lunch box. And as I sat there with my hair wrapped in tin foil I started to think about home.

I miss américain, frites, salade, buckets of mussels, patisseries, all those beers, the shops, the culture, the diversity of Brussels with its ethnic markets, hidden parks, multi-cultural population and numerous attractions that take place in the summer - many of which are free.

I miss my old home with the large garden and pond. My newts will be out and playing now but I have a feeling that the new owners of the house may have filled the pond in. I never want to find out. I miss playing Swingball in the garden against one of the children. That can easily be remedied, obviously. I carefully brought over the four Swingball bats that I have accumulated over the years and the spare tennis ball attached to the rope....but forgot the pole.

I miss my hairdresser who I have known ever since I was pregnant with Todd. We became good friends and I trusted her to do whatever she wanted to my hair. 99% of the time I was extremely pleased. The hairdresser that I have found in Crewe is pretty good too, but it costs more to have my hair cut and coloured here than in Belgium. I need to find somewhere else, but as most women will tell you, finding a good hairdresser whom you trust completely is no easy feat, and once you find that person, you don't like leaving them. Trial and gross error.

It is at this time of year that I used to watch the changes to my garden: snowdrops, wild daffodils, anemones, crocuses all popping up underneath the hedge while some yellow flower would start to blossom around the pond. Little things like that often catch me off-guard and my mind starts wondering back to the years spent in that house.

And of course, above all, I miss my children. Coralie hasn't had much luck lately - in December, a hoodie smashed her car window when she was at a set of red lights and stole her handbag. Last week, as she was looking for a parking spot, somebody smashed into her car, moving it so far that she smashed into another car. Both she and her boyfriend only suffered minor shock and slight whiplash. The idiot driver who caused the accident wasn't insured and so it has all been settled without involving insurance companies and much in Coralie's favour.

Tatiana had problems with the first job that she took on and was fairly relieved when she didn't pass her trial period, but she missed having me around to talk to for advice. We managed via emails and phone calls and she is much happier in her new job, although whenever something crops up, I am the first person she contacts. She is a big worrier. I can't think where she gets that from.

Apparently Todd is going to study law. I can't get in touch with him - he doesn't read his emails and if he reads his Facebook messages, he never replies - and his phone is always switched off. I think he is angry that I left Belgium as he once said that "I have it easy", but I have no idea what he meant by that as not only is it far from the truth, but he did decide to live with his dad. I'm going to let him grow up and see what he wants then. No point in pressuring the boy.

When in Belgium, I used to crave fish and chips. Why? The chips are vile and the fish is so greasy. But that was that I used to miss. I left England before shops stayed open late or were open on Sundays, but even so, that never really affected me. I remember that pubs used to be better than they are now - or maybe I saw everything so much more differently then than I do now. Most likely.

It's only normal to miss things that I took for granted for 28 years, and I expect these pangs will happen every now and then. But I'm going to make a damn good attempt at enjoying living here.

You only live once.

It came, it went and a new year started.

Now that Christmas is out of the way despite the odd decoration still hanging up - I mean, how lazy do you have to be not to have taken down your Christmas kitsch by 7 February, I can report on the weird goings on in this corner of the world.

We spent Christmas at Richard's parents, down in Ashford, Kent. I missed the children enormously but was able to speak to all but one whose phone was turned off. Some things simply don't change. I was very well looked after and spoilt with presents from Richard and his family, and my daughters sent me a present too which was lovely. Richard took me to look at my old school but I didn't recognise a thing - I have obviously blotted out that part of my life as I hated it so much. It was rather unnerving not to be able to remember a place that housed me for seven years of my life and I was glad to leave the spot.

We celebrated the new year in Crewe at home and went to the front door at midnight expecting to see people wishing each other a happy new year but the road was empty. Plenty of fireworks, but not a soul in sight. This is really bizarre as I am used to people - and not necessarily friends, but people at the end of the road where I used to live, yet had never met before - getting together passing a bottle of champagne around and wishing one another all the best.

Mmmmm. The Christmas decorations were incredibly tacky and so kitsch that Crewe gets 10/10 for that, but the new year was a quiet and lonely affair spent with Richard and too much TV. I don't think that we went to bed until 4am. God knows what we were watching.

Then January happened. I started an Assertiveness Course which basically teaches us how to get around difficult situations without killing anyone. I think I must be doing something wrong as each time I try to avoid an argument, Richard asks me why I'm talking to him so strangely. At least it gets me out of the house for a couple of hours a week.

Last week I started doing voluntary work ("That won't bring in any money," said my Dad, "Well, no, that's why it's called voluntary work - and apparently it looks good on your CV," I replied. I don't seem to be able to do any good in his eyes - it's a good job I'm so far away from him) at Eagle Bridge, working with the Wishing Well Project. I'm helping in the IT Suite (stop laughing, this is serious), meeting and greeting people who use the computers and helping out when I can. Richard has started too, although on a different day.

Jobs aren't pouring in, but the hunt goes on. I gave in to my damp problem and bought a dehumidifier - thanks to everyone who gave advice. It does help enormously. The dining room still remains to be painted which will be a task as there is quite a bit of furniture in there as well as plenty of full boxes. And book shelves - where on earth am I going to put all my books? There really isn't the space in this house.

The girls are already talking about visiting again but I have said to wait until the weather gets warmer as it's nicer to visit the surrounding villages then. I can't believe that I have been living here for almost a year now. Much as I like Crewe and it's surroundings, I'm still finding it hard to adjust to the culture. If they have Christmas markets here, they don't sell gluhwein as it is against the law to drink on the streets. Most holidays are held on Mondays and are called Bank Holidays. If you have savings and no job, then this is definitely NOT the country to move to. You will be expected to live off those savings and that really and truly upsets me. And I'm leaving it at that.

Hopefully something of interest will happen before I next post because even I am getting bored. Perhaps I'll find a job!

Girls aloud.

Coralie, Mum, Tatiana - washing up., a photo by zoeinbrussels on Flickr.

Coralie, me and Tatiana, washing up after a lovely roast on the Saturday evening. I still find it strange that my daughters are twins as they are so different - although Richard didn't think so.

Whoops, November just went.

We had a lovely visit from the girls, despite the weather and the short duration of the stay. Both Coralie and Tatiana managed to come over without any Sterling whatsoever, so when we went shopping I had to forward money to them. They were as surprised as I was to see christmas decorations up in shops already as well as hearing the faint jingle of christmas songs, but apparently it's quite normal over here in mid-November. Since their departure back to Brussels, I have noticed some absolutely dreadful decorations going up, and neighbours appear to battle with one another as to who gets more lights on their houses. The kitsch - it's so bad that it's somewhat amusing.

Unlike Crewe's christmas lights. Oh dear. The turning on of the lights in town was at the end of November and, well, there's not much I can say apart from where are they, surely that's not it? The inside of the market centre has been nicely done, but they do like electric blue christmas lights. Electric blue isn't really a colour that I'd associate with this time of year, but hey ho, this is all a learning experience. I'm not sure what I'm learning, but I'm definitely experiencing something.

We've given decorating a temporary break as we can't really start on the dining room until all the rubbish from Richard's house is properly boxed or put up on eBay. As I wait for that to happen, all sorts of things that we thought were fine are now proving the opposite. For example, the day I went to clean the bottom of my wardrobe. I removed a pair of suede shoes to find that they were going moldy. The wardrobe was a made to measure one and is fitted against an exterior wall although there is a hole in the back of the cupboard allowing me to get to the sockets there. The wall was wet. Great. My first thought was condensation which appears to be correct as ever since I have been airing the room more thoroughly on a daily basis, the wall appears to no longer be wet. I need to find large supplies of silica gel now.

The living room has a damp streak from the ceiling to the picture rail. What is causing this is anyone's guess, but at least it hasn't got worse. Since I have started airing the room, the condensation has cleared up on the window sill and patches of mold have appeared around the skirting board. Water has leaked down the side of the bath to the kitchen ceiling causing a pretty, damp patch.

I'm not a fan of new houses, but at least in my last house, I had been the only owner since it was built and so knew of any problems (the bloody shower), but this house is old and needs more air bricks.

I am trying to introduce birds other than just starlings and sparrows into my garden without blowing my budget out of proportion. Bird food and feeders have turned into quite an industry here whereby you can enter shops entirely dedicated to selling such stuff. I was hoping that Richard would bang together a bird table for me as I am not going to splash out on an elaborate bird feeder hanger thing. If anybody has an idea on making a cheap mix of sunflower seeds etc to attract smaller birds, I'd be very grateful. That feeder is empty within two days as it stands. I don't like hanging the feeders off my apple tree either, but there's no where else, really.

And that really is all. I've applied for a couple of jobs, found out that I was entitled to the Belgian chomage for up to 4 months after I moved over here - IF I'd signed up over here straight away. Thanks for telling me, Belgium - I did ask if there was anything I had to do when I moved here and was told "nothing".

I do know that I have to sign up at the Belgian Embassy, something that I've not yet done. I'll get around to it, after all, now that Belgium has a government, it may count.

What for is a good question.

I'm still here. Just.

Belgium is now high on my shit-list as it fails miserably to give me or tell me anything that I need to know. And that is after I ask for it. Nicely. What will happen to my pension is anybody's guess, what will happen to the few euros left in my bank account over there is bleak and yet my lawyers are still chasing me for money. These requests from them leave me cold as I have told them the situation: no job but desperately looking, no JSA and my house has started to chew generously into my bank account. Fuck off.

Richard and I have finally moved into the house as you have naturally guessed from the dire lack of posts. The bedroom is finished although it could do with some pictures, the bathroom is finished although I still need to clean the tiles and there is an issue involving a shower door to attach to the bath. If anybody specialises in shower doors, I could be an interesting challenge for you. The guest bedroom is finished although pictures are needed in there too, as well as two bedside cabinets. The living room is also close to being finished - we can relax in it, which is good enough. The dining room, hall and landing need to be finished and we haven't even started in the dining room. We eat off a cupboard door on top of a work bench in the kitchen, rammed up against the fridge/freezer which is a bit annoying, but there isn't anywhere else to eat.

Coralie and Tatiana are coming to visit on Friday for a very short stay so I can show them how people climatise in this part of the world. It is absolutely useless to judge what to wear by looking at those already out and about outside as on a hot day they will over-dress to the point of excess, and on a cold day, people tend to walk around in t-shirts and shorts. They're a funny bunch, up here. They will also get to see grown men cycling around town on their child-size BMXs, knees sticking out at right-angles, no lights and basically a threat to all drivers.

I can't wait to see my daughters. I'll treat them to PIES.

I'm going home. Back to Belgium.

This country has started to drive me absolutely mad. The house is almost ready to live in as all rooms bar one have been decorated and just need the final polish and eventual hanging up of pictures etc, etc.

I went and signed on at Crewe's wonderful Job Centre where it seems to be cool to be seen hanging outside, covered in tattoos, cider in hand, dressed in a tracksuit while trying to keep a Staffie in control as you talk about how long you've spent inside. Obviously, the longer, the more impressive. I didn't quite fit in with that lot so decided to go inside and meet the charming, flame-red haired Wendi. I was pencilled in for the appointment as 'Zowie' which did, admittedly, make a change from the usual 'Zoey' or 'Zoei'. And I thought Belgium had problems spelling my name....

I followed Wendi, burdened with all my papers that I had been told to bring in, as she wobbled slowly to her desk.

"Right," she started, "What is your full name?" and then proceeded to ask me the usual, mundane questions that I get asked each time I go there.

"Have you got a Form 301?"

A blank cloud loomed over me as I wondered what on earth this could be. A fine? A speeding ticket?

"No, but I have brought in everything that they told me to bring in when I called Chester. Some is in French and some in Flemish - but I was told that that wouldn't be a problem as you have translators here."

Wendi studied the papers and slowly looked up at me and gave me a smile that meant, quite evidently that she wanted to say "like fuck we have" but instead chose to say "I'll take copies of these, if that's alright with you?" After about an hour of going through the papers that I had previously filled in, stating my address and wish to receive corresspondence there (errr.....where else?), my marital status, lack of dependent children, bank account, address (again), vital statistics and so on, I signed the papers, was told to sign on the next day and would be told how much JSA (Job Seeker's Allowance) I'd be entitled to within the next 2 weeks.

I signed on again but had still not received this mysterious letter from Chester and so, after having been told at the Job Centre that I wasn't entitled to anything, decided to make a few calls of my own. After having called the third number given by numerous people at numerous other numbers, it appears that I should be in possession of a U1 form proving that I was in the Belgium system when in Belgium.

The following day, I received a letter telling me that I was not eligible for JSA. No reason was given at all, just the fact that I am not, apparently, eligible for JSA. The letter was sent to.....Richard's.

Not the address that I put down on the papers that I filled in.

I decided to call the number given on the letter to ask why I am not eligible for JSA, simply to see what explanation they would give me.

"You need an U2 form."
"U2? What about the U1?"
"You need to provide an U2 form by next Friday."
"Belgian post is very slow, you know."
"You also need a letter giving you authorisation to seek work in this country."
"But I'm an EU National - surely I can WORK in this country?"
"No, I am sorry, but I'm reading by the guidelines and you definitely need this letter."
"And where do I get this letter from?"
"Oh, I'm sorry - I can't help you there."

I have carried on looking for work but have made it clear for my adviser that I really shouldn't be as I don't have this letter of authorisation from....well, your guess is as good as mine.

And then I went and called Belgium today for my U2 form.

Several pounds poorer and after dealing with a country which refuses to speak French - if you are a francophile and they're not - and I may be slightly closer to getting that U2 form.

It will take 4 weeks to arrive. If I qualify.

I'm thinking of moving elsewhere now.