Forsaken fortress

What with the never-ending rain card we have been dealt of late, throwing a spanner or two in the works on most weekends, there really hasn't been a lot going on in my life.

So, our hearts were making little leaps of joy when, quite unexpectedly, it was mostly dry on Saturday the 28th of October. The sun even got the odd look-in throughout the day and the mercury climbed to a more than reasonable 15°C. Never mind that, as a rehearsal for Storm Ciarán which would pay us an unwanted visit later that week, we had to contend with gusts of blustery wind from mid-afternoon onwards.

But whatever the weather, it's always a joy to play dress-up, and especially so during the weekend, when I've got time on my hands to play around with my wardrobe.

I had been looking forward to wearing this green zig-zaggy acrylic and polyester blend skirt, which was a present from Vix when we met up back in June. It's vintage St. Michael, the label narrowing it down to the 1970s according to this recently discovered and very helpful website.

The skirt is the only vintage item in this outfit, which does, however, include another gift: the chunky green ring, which I got from Claire during the same meet-up. 

My necklace with its mix of wooden and raffia beads was a charity shop find, as were the dark green textured leather belt and the red ankle boots. The green beaded brooch was picked up from the indoor flea market in Mechelen in January.

Finally, my blouse was a bargainous retail buy from an outlet shop in November 2022. It's from the funky Belgian Who's That Girl label. 

After our usual fruit & yoghurt breakfast, I culled my collection of cardigans, only leaving the King Louie, Zoë Loveborn and any other similar quality ones, which I then reorganized by colour so that I can see what I've got at a glance.

Then, after lunch, we drove to the local branch of C&A as Jos was in need of a Winter coat. Keeping an open mind, his only requirement had been a decent number of inside pockets. As luck would have it, we soon found the perfect one: a black knee-length wool coat, which you'll get to see him wearing soon. While we were there, I also talked him into buying two pairs of slim fit trousers and a belt.

Afterwards, we continued to the edge-of-town charity shop for my rummaging fix. Here, my first find was a blue, psychedelically patterned, handmade cotton midi skirt, which is currently hibernating until Spring.

I also added to my burgeoning collection of belts with a brown pleated leather one, which turned out to be by Spanish label Massimo Dutti, and which originally retailed at just under € 50. Another stretchy belt, with a rectangular wooden buckle, ended up in my basket as well. I paid the fixed price for belts - which is € 2,50 in this particular chain of shops - for both!

Finally, I caught sight of this gorgeous cobalt blue cotton maxi dress with crocheted insets, which was among the rail of leftovers from the infamous Day of the Charity Shops which had taken place the previous week. I did a double-take when I saw lingerie mentioned on the label. Surely this is too good to be a used as a nightdress?

After a night of  torrential rain accompanied by another round of blustery wind, we woke up to a dry, bright and sunny morning on Sunday. Again, highs of about 15°C had been forecasted, but yet more rain was expected in the afternoon.

Layering weather! My wardrobe contains a handful or two of short-sleeved knit dresses which come into their own at this time of year, so out came this bottle green one sprinkled with hundreds-and-thousands in a multitude of colours.

I'm in two minds about whether it was a charity shop or Think Twice find, but whatever the case, it came without a label, so that I had no idea of its origins. That is, until I came across the exact same dress a couple of years later, this time bearing a Wow To Go label. Wow To Go, by the way, is owned by the same company as the previously mentioned Who's That Girl, supposedly aimed at a slightly older audience. Not that I care one jot!

Its companions that day were a teal long-sleeved t-shirt and ditto opaques, while I piled on fuchsia accessories in the form of a chunky leather belt (retail), perspex ring (flea market) and recently charity shopped necklace. 

My embroidered brooch was part of a haul from an antiques emporium in Carmarthen, found on a rainy June day in 2017. 

The burgundy boots are vintage and came from Think Twice.

We'd changed to Winter Time overnight, which had made us feel a bit out of sorts that day. What we needed was a good old head-clearing walk so, with one eye on our phone's weather app, we drove down to Fort 5 in the neighbouring village of Edegem for an Autumnal ramble.

Fort 5 is part of a ring of 8 almost identical forts surrounding the city of Antwerp, built in the 1860s to protect the city from enemy fire. These forts, given the unimaginative names of Fort 1 up until Fort 8, were built about 2,5 km outside the city and about 2 km apart. Each of these was about 30 hectares and consisted of a central reduit, caponiers, platforms and earthen walls for artillery, all surrounded by a wide moat. Most of these have long ago been converted into nature reserves and recreational spaces. 

Not all that far from a busy road, it is a haven of peace and quiet - that is, if you disregard the playground, which on this late October Sunday was deserted - and a habitat for plenty of wildlife.

A blanket of green algae was covering the moat as far as the eye could see, but it didn't seem to bother the heron perched on a branch which had toppled into the water. 

There's a narrow footpath which circumnavigates the moat, but we veered off to the left instead, walking past the playground where we briefly stopped to show you my outerwear.

This consisted of the rather fabulous Desigual coat I found at Oxfam last Winter, my pink beret and a frilly pink scarf charity shopped in October 2019.

Continuing our walk, we soon came across a part of the old fort: a long row of low brick and sandstone buildings half-hidden among the undergrowth, its woodwork in various stages of dereliction.

We passed but ignored the fort's main entrance which leads you inside its creepily atmospheric inner sanctum, opting for a slightly longer walk instead.

Walking past the row of buildings and rounding a corner, we eventually re-joined the path running along the moat. 

The water was clearer here, with just the odd patch of green, and it seemed to be the place to be for the resident waterbirds of various plumage, including several prehistoric-looking cormorants and a magnificent blue heron.

The narrow winding path eventually takes you through a low tunnel where the fort bridges the moat. Here, even vertically challenged yours truly had to duck her head at one point.

At the end of the tunnel lies a series of heavily graffitied rooms where daylight slants through paneless windows, some of them still holding on to their weathered wooden frames or shutters. 

There are the remains of a fireplace in some of them, and time-battered electrical fittings. The eerie light in the room on the bottom left was courtesy of some translucent green foil which had been fixed to the ancient fluorescent tube. Would this be the scene of a spooky party, I wonder. We were, after all, just a couple of days short of Hallowe'en ...

Haphazard heaps of wind-blown leaves were gathered in corners and a not entirely unpleasant smell of dampness and decay was lingering in the air.

Another tunnel, with light at its end, leads off from the final room, emerging onto the moat side path once more.

As always when we walk here, my thoughts go out to my Dad, part of whose playground this was when he grew up in the village. It's also where his ashes have been laid to rest seven years ago on All Saints' Day, the First of November 2016.

We had come full circle by now, and about time too, as the sky was turning granite grey and it looked as if yet more showers were waiting in the wings.

And now, friends and readers, I'll be off the radar for a couple of days, as we are preparing for a long weekend away. I'm not holding out too much hope that it'll be a dry one, but who knows, once in a while miracles do happen.

See you on the other side!