Just a perfect day

Years of experience have taught me that time flies whether you're having fun or not, but it most definitely shifts a gear when you do, and particularly so when you're on holiday. 

And so our final day - Wednesday the 5th of August - dawned, and it was another perfect one, with the sun lighting up the early morning haze.

Lesson learned, we'd set the alarm on Jos's mobile, so that we were up and about with enough time to spare to get ready at a leisurely pace. Stepping outside, it turned out that our opposite neighbour was up early too and was watching us dolefully across the Hydrangeas in her front garden. Probably she hadn't had her breakfast cereals yet!

From my travelling capsule wardrobe, I dug this red and white three-quarter sleeved Breton top and red floral wide-legged trousers, which was one of the outfits I'd put together when packing. The top is ancient, and it was the blue charity shopped one I wore on our first day that reminded me of this one which, after a frantic search, I found hidden away at the back of a drawer, together with its navy sister. 

The trousers, which were a sales bargain from New Look a couple of years ago, have accompanied me on many a holiday ever since. Apart from their good looks, they have the advantage of being slightly cropped, so that their hems aren't being dragged through mud and puddles when out walking.

The wooden beads were charity shopped, as were the pink floral trainers (or sneakers, if you prefer to call them thus), which were a lucky £ 4 find in a Shrewsbury charity shop during our last UK holiday.

They might look a bit fancy, but they are extremely comfortable and have survived many a walk on moderately muddy paths. Which is exactly what we had in mind that day!

After another finger-lickingly delicious breakfast, we set our car's controls a.k.a. Truus, our satnav with the Dutch accent, for Bulskampveld, the provincial domain we briefly visited on Monday. Along the way, we stopped off at a small local supermarket to get some sandwiches for a picnic.

Rather than just a stroll in the castle grounds, we'd planned a longer walk in the woods and fields surrounding the domain, making use of a handy map based on numbered markers.

We've got a whole library of such maps, adding to them whenever we visit somewhere new and we love them for their ease of use, although they offer no guarantee for people like us who are prone to getting lost. So, after arriving at our destination, we parked our car, and went in search of number 7, which would be the start of our walk. Easy-peasy, surely? You can see the number 7 at the top of the map, with the P indicating the car park directly above it.

Imagine our confusion when after searching high and low number 7 remained elusive, finding only a signpost with number 38 instead. Looking at the map didn't get us anywhere either, as number 38 was nowhere to be found! We could only surmise that some of the routes and numbers had been changed since the map was printed. It wasn't the first time we'd come across this problem.

Not wanting to admit defeat, we started walking into the direction of where the next marker, number 8, should have been if all was well, but I'm sure it won't come as a surprise that there wasn't any sign of that one either. Instead, we arrived at a fork, with the path up ahead being a private one, while the other was going right instead of left, which was the direction we wanted to go.

Retracing our steps, we eventually found a narrow track leading into the woods (bottom left in the above collage), which soon ended and disappeared into a marshy meadow (above). We could see an obvious track meandering through the high grasses, so we followed it into the direction of a line of trees, taking care not to step on the tiny frogs which leapt to safety upon our approach.

Just following our instincts, we took a left turn when we finally made it back into the woods and onto a woodland path when - lo and behold! - we spotted a number 9 signpost. 

In the full belief that we were back on track, we started following the signs which would ultimately lead us towards number 9, the path making twists, turns and zigzags until we were no longer sure of the direction into which we were going.

At some point, the obvious path ended at a closed gate, with the signposts directing us along an initially overgrown boardwalk, with a pool of water shimmering beyond, reflecting the white cotton wool clouds floating into the blue Summer sky.

Poring over our map, even these two self-confessed "topographically disoriented" could see that there wasn't a pool of water in the approach to number 9. And no, it isn't the splash of blue beneath number 8, as that's the castle lake!

With a view as gorgeous like this, who were we to complain? 

Still intrigued about the sudden appearance of this watery slice of heaven, I trawled the Internet when we got home, finding a reference to a boardwalk crossing one of the newly constructed ponds created by altering the course of a brook called the Bornebeek in 2016. Mystery solved!

Back on solid ground, a number of gates indicated that we were passing through grazing land, and indeed at one point we spotted a magnificent specimen of the Galloway cattle which are roaming the nature reserve. 

When we finally arrived at number 9, we were dismayed to discover that the next number signposted was number 12 rather than number 10 as indicated on our map. But at least it was going into the right direction, along a long and straight semi-surfaced tree-lined avenue (bottom left), so we confidently proceeded accordingly. Soon we even found a bench on which to have our picnic. 

It was then that things started going ever so slightly pear-shaped when, instead of going straight ahead, the next marker pointed us to the left and then, annoyingly, left again, so that we were actually walking back into the direction we'd come from. I decided to use common sense, ignore the marker and go right, and right again, which brought us back onto the straight and narrow. Still, doubt had set in and I was about to panic when I caught a glimpse of the ivy clad water tower we'd seen on our first day. Phew!

When I posted some photos of our walk on Instagram that day, I captioned them with: had a wonderful day of not getting lost in the woods and not being eaten by wild animals! 

Quite chuffed with the fact that in spite of the out of date map - or perhaps because of it - we managed to not actually get lost! 

The day wasn't finished yet, of course. In fact, it was only about 1.30 pm when we found ourselves back at the car park, ready for our next adventure, which started with a 15-minute drive to Loppem, a village about 10 kilometers south-west of Bruges.

Here, a small cobbled lane leads towards a little-known and well-hidden gem, Loppem Castle. 

Entering the castle grounds through the gatehouse (above, top left) it all looks deceptively peaceful, but in reality there is no escaping the constant noise of the traffic passing along the busy E40 motorway which is virtually skirting the domain.

The original Loppem Castle was built in the 17th century and destroyed in the 18th. A century later, in 1856, Baron Charles van Caloen and his wife, Countess Savina de Gourcy Serainchamps, appointed the English architect Edward Pugin to draw up plans for a new castle on the site of the original one.

Finding Pugin’s style too English, Baron van Caloen wanted a more Flemish look to his castle, so he roped in his friend, the Belgian architect Jean Bethune, to amend the plans. Construction of the castle was completed by 1863 and the result is an excellent example of the Flemish neo-Gothic style. 

The prominent sandstone bay extension houses the family chapel.

The blues sky we'd woken up to had done a disappearing act by now and as it seemed as if rain was imminent, we were glad of the opportunity to visit the castle's richly decorated and furnished interior

In perfect harmony with the neo-Gothic architecture, the furniture designed by Pugin as well as Bethune’s stained-glass windows, chandeliers, staircases and fireplaces were all executed with immense skill by local craftsmen.

The impressive entrance hall or vestibule (below, top left) is where van Caloen and his guests played billiards. With its height of 17 metres and designed as a three-storey hall, it combines the idea of the English baronial hall with the grandeur of the staircase hall in a French chateau. The stunning encaustic floor tiles were produced by Minton Hollis from Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire.

While the neo-Gothic interiors and the domestic living quarters downstairs show life as it was in the 19th and early 20th centuries, the first floor rooms are largely devoted to the rich art collection many of which was collected by Charles' grandson Baron Jean van Caloen (1884– 1972) on his travels.

The family chapel (above, bottom right) obviously was a notable exception.

We were largely on our own during our visit, so that we could explore the castle's many treasures at ease. That is, until our solitude was rudely disrupted by the entrance of a couple and their three children, including a boisterous toddler whom his parents mostly left unsupervised. And then there was the not-quite teenage daughter who taunted us by standing directly behind us whenever we wanted to take a closer look at something or stood in a room's doorway to gaze at its plexied off contents.

Case in point were the rooms on the first floor used by the Belgian King Albert I and Queen Elisabeth during their stay at Loppem. This was at the end of the First World War, when the Belgian royal family requested that the castle be temporarily made available for their use.

There's a maze in the grounds, for which a separate entrance fee has to be paid. Designed in 1873 using red and green hornbeam by the brothers Albert and Ernest van Caloen, it is rumoured to be notoriously easy to get lost in. We never made it there, as the pesky family was last seen making enquiries on how to get there.  Perhaps we'll come back here one day outside the school holidays!

It would have been the perfect opportunity for a proper walk around the castle park as well. But as we - and especially Jos, who was suffering somewhat from backache - were all walked out by then, we just took the lane skirting the back of the castle to return to the car park. Doesn't it look especially fairy-tale like meeting its reflection in the lake?

With the afternoon still too young to call it a day, we roped in Truus again to take us to Blijzaak, a charity shop devoted to vintage and design which I'd come across when trawling the Internet.

It had started drizzling by then, but hardly enough to spur our windscreen wipers into action. By the time we'd reached our destination, the sun had reappeared acting as if nothing had happened.

The shop was a lot smaller than we'd imagined, but we still found a funky vintage lamp for our sitting room. The shop also had a café with outside seating, where we had cappuccinos served in 1960s Boch cups, just like the ones we have at home. 

Then it was back to our B&B where we collapsed on our beds for a nap (Jos) and a couple of pages in the book I was trying to finish. We'd ordered another tapas board, so that was our evening meal sorted!

So, that was that! If you've come here hoping for the solution of the out of centre empty cupboard mystery, then I'm afraid I have to disappoint you, as we forgot to ask Veronique about it. But that's more than enough reason for another visit, isn't it?

Instead you'll have to made do with the outfit I was wearing for our journey home on Thursday. 

One of my favourite vintage maxi skirts was joined here by a modern, but charity shopped, blue and white short-sleeved knit, topped by one of my collection of thrifted King Louie cardigans. The belt and beaded necklace were charity shop finds as well.

We made it home in one piece, although it wasn't without its hick-ups. Truus, whom we seem to shout at just as much as Marie-Jeanne, our old satnav, made us do a detour all the way via Brussels. At least that meant we didn't have to face delays at the Kennedy Tunnel, although we are counting ourselves lucky there weren't any queues on the equally infamous Brussels orbital.

We were glad to have this one waiting for us, that's for sure!

It'll be business a usual - whatever that may be - in my next post. See you again soon!