Monday, 4 July 2011


Namur en Mai - only it wasn't May it was June. Is it just me or does that sound weird?
Well here are the best of some images of folk I met in Namur - definitely not your average Belgian city, it looks more like the south of France and speak with people it felt like we were another country from Brussels.

Enough said... he didn't get my bonbons!

And this is Lorraine - author of two fantasy books - in fact she gave me two of them to read. In all honesty I've started and not yet finished. But it's in French so it's a bit slow going for me. I promise I'll get through it though!
Here's a link to her books

And let me introduce you to Christelle - she came back a couple of times and chatted. This is a picture of her, gift in hand - some very delicious Belgian sweets. I hope she won't mind if I share an email Christelle sent me a few days later. It was great food for thought.

Bonjour Stephen,

I’m sad I wasn’t able to pass and say goodbye to you on sunday afternoon at the “Namur en mai” festival.

Your performance is quiet interesting. Beside the social and the human aspects, some could consider the ecological side of this dream of getting an individual suburban house, with a one foot square garden, a familial car parked in front, and a friendly dog in it. In France (I speak about France because I’m French, even if I live in Belgium) so, in France, it’s about one department per ten years that disappear under concrete and tar. It causes enhanced flooding risks, reduction of cultivated and afforested surfaces, water cycle modification, pollution, and so on. Without being a convinced ecologist, I wonder about the sustainability of such a dwelling project that involves a lot of concrete but finally a small density of inhabitants/m².

Maybe we should think twice about the life goals we aim at, for our personal lives of course (do we really have to get this to be happy?) and for our children’s lives too (well, I do not have any children yet, but if, one day, maybe, nothing’s never sure… hum… well, for them, I guess it will be better to still have forests to walk by and look at birds, and fields with wheat, than kilometres of white and red houses with a large black street between).

If one day, anywhere in the world (in Belgium, or not very far from, or even very far from), I see again the tiny red roof of your tiny house, I’ll come, go down on my knees, and say hello. I hope this day (if it happens) you’ll still have some tea to share (then I’ll try to find biscuits to go with).

Christelle, the false Belgian woman with a handful of real Belgian strawberry sweets.