The strange case of the Brussels sprout .....

I was out on my long run today - Loch Ness marathon is getting ever closer so I felt the need to get out there and run.

I had an early start. Up and about by 6.45am on a weekend is unusual if not unheard of but when you are away for the weekend probably inexcusable. We arrived in Brussels yesterday. A fantastic city and more than we had expected. Dinner last night was fabulous having uneathered a mystical, dark and romantic restaurant in the centre of town.

I'm not sure if it was the house wine that woke me early - advertised as a sauvignon but turned up disguised as a chardonnay. Anyway it was half six and I was awake. The mission for the next 10 minutes of pasting on anti chafe cream, remembering water and ipod etc etc was not to wake moonwalker. Mission failed on that front sadly but she pretended to sleep anyway!

Fully loaded with a bunch of good songs I set off. We're staying in the Sheraton. Nice if a wee bit tired hotel very centrally located in town. I set off passing the street cleaners, the remant party goers and the odd tourist (probably American and jet lagged) wandering the streets. I set off down to the canel area constantly checking the approximate position of the hotel. It's next top a very tall building that you can see from time to time as you wander the city so I always felt confident that I'd find my way back.

I reached the canel and turned the wrong way - within 800m I was stuffed by industrial fencing blocking my route. I turned and headed back the opposite way. The run along the canel was fasinating as I watched the early morning barges going about there daily business. They all seemed to have cars on the back. Not cheap cars but Audi's and BMW's - there must be money in owning a barge. The old city is surrounded by a ring road so I figures as long as I stayed inside it I wouldn't ever be more than a few miles from the hotel.

I turned when the canel met the ring road and headed back towards town. It was then I my mind drifted to brussel sprouts. Why are they called brussel sprouts. I have no idea and spent a few miles wondering how the name had been created. I still don't know but am sure the internet will dig up the answer.

My dreams of brussel sprouts were interupted by gangsters. I'm not sure what was going on but 3 gansta type people (dressed in black suits, black shirts and loads of gold) were haranging 2 guys. Maybe one of them had borrowed money to buy said sprouts and was due top pay it back, or maybe too much time smoking/snorting sprouts I don't know but I was glad I was running. I Picked up the tempo, caught a glance of the hotel and headed back at full speed.

1 hour elapsed and I'd made it back to the hotel. Good news. So I started off again on the same route. Brussels is flat. Very flat and I suppose to that end I could have used my second last long run to include a few more hills. Now you would have thought that I would be able to follow the same route and arrive back at the hotel easily. I'd managed it once. Sadly not to be.

Lost in Brussels. I was running around, in the wrong direction before I looked behind me to glimpse the high rise building next to our hotel. I turned and with a soring in my step headed back once more. Now the dilema. I had about 5km left to make up the distance.

Up to the 30th floor and onto the running machine (a gansta free zone) and polished off my 27/28km run. Chuffed. We've subsequently walked a further 15km so I reckon I've done a marathon today.

We're going to Bruge tomorrow and then I'm off to Namur for a conference. I was speaking to my father about Namur when he surpised me by saying he'd been there before. I hadn't know that. When was that I enquired. 1945 he replied. He'd landed on gold beach in Normandy and made his way up through northern France into Belgium.

I wonder what memories our conversation dragged up......