Dreamcoat

Coming back home from sunny, blue-skied Bruges on Saturday the 8th of November was a bit of a let-down, particularly since I was plagued by that pesky cold I told you about a couple of posts ago.

Having said our goodbyes to Veronique after breakfast, we were expecting to get home well before midday.  However, as extensive roadworks were taking place in the north of Antwerp that weekend, our Satnav decided to make a detour via Brussels, making our journey just that little bit longer.

I wasted no time in getting our stuff unpacked while Jos went food shopping in the afternoon, but then I started feeling unwell, a tickle in my throat announcing the fact that I was coming down with a cold.

I thought I'd escaped the worst when I felt reasonably well upon getting up on Sunday. 

It was mostly overcast with the odd sunny spell and highs of around 14°C. Still, I didn't leave the house all day, catching up with blogland and gearing myself for the ordeal of going back to work on Monday. 

As for my outfit, I opted for a comfy skirt and blouse combo, with both the grey and red tartan circle skirt and the King Louie blouse supplied by the gods of the charity shops.

I enhanced the tiny pops of red in my skirt and blouse with a wine coloured beaded necklace and elasticated belt with massive white metal buckle (both charity shopped). I was wearing not one but two brooches that day. The plastic cat brooch got the company of a red-hearted white metal one which I used to tame the collar of my blouse.  

By mid-afternoon it became clear that I spoke too soon. My scratchy throat might have done a runner, I was now suffering from an alternately blocked and leaking nose, lots of sneezing, watery eyes and an annoying and persistent little cough. Not fun at all. 

There was nothing for it but to join Bess on the sofa. 

It was a wrench getting out of bed at an ungodly hour again on Monday, particularly as the day promised to be a mind-numbingly gloomy one. Courtesy of my cold, I was feeling a bit zombie-ish but otherwise ok. As usual, there was lots to catch up on at the office, but I'd managed to get through most of it by the end of the day. 

Which was a good thing as Tuesday was the 11th of November, Armistice Day, which is a public holiday here in Belgium.

Again, it was dark and gloomy and, although the day's highs of 10°C weren't too bad at all, again I didn't leave the house all day. 

My cold was still very much present, but there's no rest for the wicked, as I actually had things to do.

But first things first: I was wearing a burnt orange polyester dress, closing with a zip at the front. The zip pull is missing, but I can't be bothered to replace the zip, especially as it's still in good working order. Replacing the zip pull is out of the question as well, as there's hardly anything left to attach it to. But then I had the brainwave of using a single, orphan earring instead.

The dress's print has bottle green in it, so I piled on the green accessories. 

Just before we were off to Bruges, I was contacted by Patricia, a lovely lady who lives in our village, is into vintage and always buys lots of stuff from my flea market stall. She'd asked if she could come around for a rummage some time and we'd agreed on Friday the 14th; Making use of my day off, I spent it going through my flea market boxes and wardrobe(s), selecting some items I was ready to let go.

More about that later ...

Meanwhile, it was back to work on Wednesday, which was a rare sunny day with a balmy 16°C temperature. As my cold, which had taken a backseat on Tuesday, was back with a vengeance, I went to pick up some cold relief medicines during my lunch break, stopping for a rummage at Think Twice on my way back to the office.

Obviously, there was no way I could leave this gorgeous orange handbag behind!

Although there are no less than five Think Twice (or T2 as they are commonly known) shops in Antwerp, I do not visit them all on a regular basis. Most of my purchases are made in the two shops which are only a couple of minutes' walk from the office. 

A slightly longer walk takes me to the shop in Antwerp's vibrant Kammenstraat which offers a refreshing alternative to mainstream shopping with its array of independent boutiques. In spite of the gloom and impending rain, this is where I was headed during Thursday's lunch break.

My self-imposed coat ban proved to be futile when I came face to face with this stunner of a coat. Nevertheless, I hummed and hawed before deciding on its purchase as it's got a couple of issues. When I finally took it to the check-out, I ended up chatting to the shop assistants. It was at that point that my beloved sage green beret, which I'd taken off in the fitting rooms, must have fallen out of my bag. I only realized I'd lost it when I was going home that night, but I had no idea where. Fast forward to three weeks later, when I visited the shop again and was stopped and asked whether the beret was mine. They'd kept it for me all that time and I couldn't have been happier to have been reunited with it. The girls were duly rewarded with chocolates!

It was only when I got the coat home that I discovered a Bernat Klein tag inside. A bit of research revealed that Bernat Klein CBE (6 November 1922 – 17 April 2014) was a Serbian born textile designer and painter. Based in Scotland, Klein supplied textiles to haute couture designers in the 1960s and 1970s, and later sold his own clothing collections. Here's a link to the Bernat Klein Foundation if you would like to find out more. Please do not blame me if this makes you go down a rabbit hole like I did.

His obituary in The Scotsman was calling him the colour wizard of the Scottish textile industry who brought tweed to world's catwalks. 

And I've got one of his coats for less than € 30!  The photo doesn't really do it justice, but I'll show it to you properly once I've fixed the partly detached lining and slightly wonky hem.

Edit: I've added a close-up of its glorious tweed, taken when light conditions were better.

Anyway, after this short on and off working week, Friday the 14th of  November rolled along in no time.

It might have been gloomy and mizzly outside, I had no intention of leaving Dove Cottage's cozy confines anyway. I spent the morning compiling a rail of clothes, making sure to include some coats and jackets, as that is what Patricia was after in particular.

We chatted over cups of coffee while she was browsing and adding more and more items to her pile of likely candidates. After trying things on, she ended up buying two coats, three jackets, three dresses and some blouses!

My dress, with its glorious mix of abstract stripes on a burgundy background, is an old Think Twice find acquired pre-blog on a Friday afternoon shopping trip with my friend Inez. 

Although the stripes invite it to be accessorized with almost any colour you can think of, I often opt for turquoise, even if that colour doesn't actually appear in the dress's print. The flower embossed belt and the turquoise-rimmed floral brooch were charity shop and flea market finds respectively. The necklace, however, was a sales bargain from the high street last Summer.

Although at 16°C it was still unseasonably warm, it was a dismal and utterly wet day we woke up to on Saturday.

I spent the morning pottering around upstairs, folding away the unsold items in the flea market boxes which live in the built-up cupboard in our bedroom.

It was almost inevitable that one or two things ended up back in my wardrobe, case in point being the dress I wore that day. I know, what was I thinking?

My accessories were having a hard time competing with the dress's exuberant flower garden pattern. In the end, I opted for off-white in the form of a beaded necklace, vintage flower brooch and chunky plastic ring. 

We were itching to go for a rummage at the charity shops after lunch, but as Opnieuw & Co., our local chain of shops, were having a Christmas event which we wanted to avoid at all cost, we drove to the small charity shop in Reet instead. And no, I didn't find a single thing!

Back at home, we went to feed our neighbours' cats Bobby, Billie and Pip, as their personnel was off gallivanting around Paris.

This was followed with a cuddling session with our very own pampered little feline!

Yet another dismal day awaited us on Sunday, but as it looked set to remain dry, we were adamant to go for a much needed head-clearing walk. The temperature had halved over night, leaving us with highs of just 8°C, which were much more appropriate for the time of year.

Our walk took us to the park in the nearby town of Boom, which is only a 15-minute drive from home.

The earthy, musky-sweet scent of Autumn leaves greeted us once we stepped through the gates, and surely there's nothing like a good old crunch through a deep pile carpet of them to lift the spirits.

 

Apart from the odd dog walker, the utter greyness of the day must have kept people at home, so that it wasn't hard to imagine being somewhere far away from humanity, with only the trees in their Autumnal splendour and the resident waterfowl for company.

There's a brook running through the park, interspersed by one or two shallow waterfalls whose frothy cascades of water adds to the magical atmosphere of the park.

Much to our delight, when we got home it was still light enough for outfit photos without having to rely on harsh artificial light, which I'm sure is the bane of many of us at this time of year.

My dress, which is yet another old Think Twice find, is a thin yet deceptively warm one in a wool and polyester Trevira blend. Its dark green background is enhanced with swirls of orange and greyish green. A sage green long-sleeved t-shirt was layered underneath.

Again, I used a brooch (picked up from a flea market in Carmarthen, Wales) to tame its collar. Both my necklace and belt were charity shop finds.

There's nothing much to tell you about the working week that followed, apart from the fact that it remained gloomy and mizzly, with temperatures between 5 and 7°C.

There was the usual cappuccino catch-up with Inez on Tuesday, followed by a round of the rails at Think Twice, where I fell for this green and yellow tweed skirt.

Then, on Wednesday, I ran into an old friend I hadn't seen in person in at least 40 years. He'd moved to Spain many years ago and we lost touch. However, we subsequently reconnected on Facebook in 2009, which is why we instantly recognized each other when we were both walking along Antwerp's main shopping thoroughfare. 

I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

So, that's if for now. I'll try and squeeze in a final November update before Christmas. 

See you soon!

More Bruges wanderings and a fairy-tale castle

This is the view which greeted us upon waking up on our second morning at B&B Het Soetewater. The morning fog was about to make way for another unseasonably warm and sunny day. The sun was gently illuminating the trees standing guard in their Autumn finery at the back of the meadow, the resident sheep playing hide-and-seek with the lingering veil of opalescent mist.

 

All traces of fog had disappeared into thin air by the time we were ready for breakfast, leaving a bright blue, almost cloudless sky in its wake.

Before making our way to the breakfast room in the main part of the B&B, we briefly wandered around the garden to admire the dried papery flower heads of the hydrangeas and the Michaelmas daisies which were still in their prime.

So, breakfast! You'll be glad to hear that Jos's appetite had returned, so that he was finally able to sample some of Veronique's delicacies. As you can see, he could hardly wait until I'd taken a photo of our breakfast table!

We'd decided on a day of two halves, starting with a morning of wandering around Bruges.

After once again leaving our car at the 't Zand car park, we now proceeded to walk into the opposite direction, taking a left turn instead of a right like we did on Thursday.

We had no agenda for our wanderings, our only aim being to soak up the atmosphere of this picture perfect UNESCO World Heritage city, which on this gloriously sunny November day, with its dome of cerulean blue sky, was looking particularly dreamlike.

And so it was that we found ourselves at the Leeuwenbrug (or Lion's Bridge), which crosses the peaceful Speelmansrei canal, where two almost pussycat-like lions are gazing towards the Belfry. 

The current bridge dates from 1627 and was built by Bruges master mason Jan de Wachter. In 1629, the parapets were decorated with two lion statues crafted by sculptor Jeroom Stalpaert, their front paws proudly resting on a shield bearing the gothic B of Bruges.

At the end of the eighteenth century, the lion on the western parapet was pushed into the water and replaced by a new one. In 1955, the second lion was replaced due to the poor condition of the stone.

Recently, the shields have been restored to their original appearance. During annual maintenance, it was determined that they were in urgent need of restoration. While cleaning, two different shades of blue were discovered. After further investigation, supported by a historical photograph from the image bank, it became clear that the darker shade of blue was the correct finish, so that the decision was made to repaint them in their authentic colour.

Soon our wanderings were making us thirsty, so we found a nice little café, called Salé et Sucré, where Jos enjoyed a glass of his favourite alcohol-free beer, while I opted for a cappuccino. 

Jos's beer came accompanied with a bowl of crisps which he devoured in no time. If that isn't proof that he'd regained his appetite, I don't know what is.

No matter how many times we've been here, Bruges continues to wow us. 

We ambled into the direction of Jan van Eyck Square, named after the world-famous master painter.

From the 13th to the 15th century, this was a lively port area where traders assembled from all over Europe. Bruges was the trading hub between the Hanseatic cities of the far North, England and Germany, and the main trading centres in France, Spain and Italy. 

In the Middle Ages a toll was levied here.  Pieter van Luxemburg, a knight of the Order of the Golden Fleece, used this money to rebuild the Old Tollhouse in 1477 (above, bottom right) and the late Gothic porch is therefore decorated with his polychrome coat of arms. The narrow building jutting out to the left of the porch is the Rijkepijndershuis, the guild house of the dockworkers.

Jan van Eyck square ends rather abruptly at the stone parapet of the Koningsbrug (King’s Bridge) which backs the majestic Spiegelrei canal, looking particularly splendid with the blue sky reflected in its gently rippling waters. 

Wandering through Bruges means revisiting old favourites, like the quirky Papageno sculpture (1980) in front of the Royal City Theatre (1869) with its neo-Renaissance façade.  The sculpture, which is by the Belgian sculptor Jef Claerhout (1937–2022), pictures the Papageno character from Mozart’s opera ‘Die Zauberflöte’ (The Magic Flute). See here for some close-ups.

There are some sculptures at the back of the theatre as well, by Jozef De Looze (1925-2011), one of which you can see in this collage), but we had yet to spot this tiny bronze frog, which sits almost unobtrusively on the railing around one of the flower beds at the front of the theatre. I squealed in delight when I finally found the little fellow.

Midday had come and gone? but instead of finding a place to have lunch, we grabbed some cheese and ham rolls and a drink, which we planned to have at our afternoon destination.

A mere 10-minute drive took us from the 't Zand car park to Loppem Castle in the village of Loppem, which lies to the south-west of Bruges. Those of you who have been here for a while might recall our previous visits, in August 2021 and April 2024. 

We parked our car in the leafy car park which lies at the end of a long and narrow cobbled drive, where we had a makeshift picnic amid a flurry of drifting Autumn leaves. 

Boasting the turrets, nooks and crannies you would expect to find in a neo-Gothic building, Loppem Castle seems to have been lifted straight from the pages of a book of fairy tales.

The castle has been in the van Caloen family since the 18th century, but has seen a number of changes over the generations. The current castle, which replaced an older, original manor house, was completed in 1863 and is considered an excellent example of Flemish neo-Gothic style. 

In 1856, the English architect Edward Welby Pugin (1834-1875) was commissioned by the future inhabitants, Baron Charles van Caloen and his wife, Countess Savina de Gourcy Serainchamps, to draw up plans for the castle. Later on, supervision of the building work was entrusted to the Belgian architect Jean-Baptiste Bethune (1821-1894), who gave a slightly more Flemish character to the building. 

Unlike many castles which evolved over the centuries, Loppem Castle was constructed in a single phase and, even though it was occupied by its owners for generations until 1940, the interior has remained almost completely untouched, with the original neo-Gothic architectural features and furnishings still present and correct, and thus maintaining much of its original design and charm.

The castle's entrance hall or vestibule was definitely built to impress. With its grand staircase and its vaulted ceiling, it is where guests were received and where van Caloen and his guests played billiards.

The stunning encaustic floor tiles were produced by Minton Hollis from Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire.

Reaching up 17 metres from the floor, in polychromed wood with six bosses decorated with family coats of arms, the ceiling is a faithful copy of the 14th century vault of the gothic hall in Bruges' city hall.

The grand staircase's banister is composed of a hundred exquisitely crafted panels featuring native plants, animals and hunting scenes.

On the first floor, the two-storey, single-nave family chapel, with Jean-Baptiste Bethune's stained-glass windows depicting the family's patron saints, can be admired.

The chapel is housed in the prominent, corbelled sandstone bay crowned with octagonal spire at the front of the castle.

 

During World War I, the castle played a crucial role in Belgian military history. In October 1918, King Albert I of Belgium and his government used the castle as their temporary headquarters while planning the final offensive against German forces. It was here that key decisions were made about Belgium’s post-war future, adding an extra layer of significance to the castle’s legacy.

The castle and the park became the property of the Jean van Caloen Foundation in 1952 in order to protect the future of this exceptional heritage site. The park was opened to the public in 1974. One year later the castle was made accessible as well. Visitors cannot only enjoy the unique interior but also discover an important painting and sculpture collection.

The floor above the main Entrance Hall is where much of the art collections are on display;

Collecting started at the time of Charles van Caloen and Savina de Gourcy Serainchamps. They bought all kinds of art and antiques with which they decorated their castle: paintings, Chinese porcelain, glassware, hunting paraphernalia, Etc. 

The greatest collector, however, was their grandson Jean van Caloen. The collection he amassed is impressive. In addition to paintings and sculptures, he bought medieval manuscripts, master drawings, prints, ivory, alabaster, pottery and even baking moulds. His son Roland van Caloen was also a passionate collector, especially of Asian and African art.

There's so much to see that repeated visits are required to take it all in, so that it definitely won't be the last time we were here. If only it was to see my favourite object, the Waffle Angel! 

I was most disappointed upon learning that this wood, polychrome and gilt kneeling angel has nothing whatsoever to do with waffles or waffle-making. Made in Italy between 1425 and 1450, he or she was used to store relics.

While Jos was taking a breather and resting his feet on a bench, I strolled through the English-style park with its winding paths, ancient trees and intriguing red painted octagonal pavilion.

In 1866, a neo-Gothic building was constructed in the garden for Joseph, Charles' and Savina's eldest son. Named "Le Petit Musée” (the little museum), its was where the young Joseph could indulge his interest in art and house his collection of objects.

The castle and garden are actually on an island which can be reached by two separate bridges and, with the weather still holding, but the first of the clouds on the horizon, I crossed the one at the west side of the garden. Viewed from the lane at the back of the garden, the castle was looking particularly picturesque framed by the lake and the Autumn clad trees.

At the east side of the castle, another surprise awaited in the form of a German bunker (hidden behind the topiary hedges in the photo on the bottom left), built during the First World War as a shelter for the German officers who occupied the castle from the end of 1917.

The remainder of the day's blue sky had now been completely obscured by a layer of grey and, although rain didn't seem to be imminent, we decided to call it a day and return to the B&B.

As this was our last day, and we'd be going home on Saturday morning this, alas, is the end of my tiny Bruges travelogue. 

It'll be business as usual as from my next post onwards.

Thank you for reading and for your all of your lovely comments!

In Bruges

We woke up to a sky of deepest blue, its colour appearing even more vivid against the amber and gold Autumn foliage. The weather forecast couldn’t have been better, speaking of highs of 18°C and promising a day which, if one disregards the fact that signs of advanced Autumn were all around us, could almost have been considered summery. After weeks of grey and rainy days, we couldn’t have planned our holiday at a better time if we’d tried. The world – or at least Bruges – was our oyster that day and Veronique’s breakfast was awaiting us. 

So, what could possibly go wrong? Well, quite a lot, it seems as, after a fitful night’s sleep, Jos had woken up feeling tired and queasy.

We were the only guests for the first two nights, so breakfast was set out exclusively for us. Apart from a selection of cereals, homemade granola, fruit and yoghurt, homemade bread, rolls and croissants, Veronique had produced a fingerlickingly good chocolate cake. Set out on our table was a selection of charcuterie, cheeses and smoked salmon, all of which were making my mouth water. Not Jos’s though, although he did do his best to at least eat something in spite of his appetite having gone AWOL.

After breakfast, we took our time getting ready for the 20-minute or so drive into Bruges, parking at the inner-city car park at the ‘t Zand square. There’s a cheaper alternative at the railway station from where there’s free public transport to the city centre. However, we are prepared to pay somewhat over the odds for the luxury of being within a short walk of the majority of Bruges’ tourist attractions.

We hadn’t made any definite plans on what to do apart from earmarking a couple of museums in case it should rain. As the weather gods clearly didn’t have any intention in that direction, we were just going to wander and see where our feet would take us. 

There’s no avoiding the hordes of tourists who flock to Bruges any given day of the week or time of year, but we still wanted to give a wide birth to the main shopping thoroughfares leading to the tourist honey pots around the Market Square. Instead, we walked along some quiet back streets into the general direction of the Beguinage.

Still not feeling up to much, Jos was lagging behind while I tried to keep my own spirits up by taking photographs of anything which grabbed my attention, starting with an armada of paper boats floating upon the water of 't Putje, a tiny square in the shadow of the Concert Hall.

Our feet ultimately took us to the Minnewater (a.k.a. the Lake of Love), where we found Jos a sun-trap of a bench on which to sit and watch the world go by. 

People once believed that water nymphs (minnen in old Flemish) lived here, and thus the lake acquired its name. Add to that a tragic love story, mysterious trees and an abundance of greenery and you get a place steeped in romance. 

The tragic legend recounts the tale of Minna, a young woman who was in love with a warrior of a neighbouring tribe. Minna ran away from her father to avoid being forced to marry someone else. She ran into the forest and found her lover, only to die in his arms of exhaustion from her journey.

The Minnewater is also home to the famous Bruges swans. 

After the death of Mary of Burgundy in 1482, Bruges went through some troubled times. The townspeople, enraged by the new taxes imposed by Mary's successor, Emperor Maximilian of Austria, rose in revolt against their new ruler. As Maximilian was locked up in House Craenenburg on the Market Square, he helplessly witnessed the torture and eventual beheading of his bailiff, Pieter Lanchals, whose surname translates as long neck. Legend has it that the Emperor eventually escaped and later took his revenge on the local people by forcing them to keep long necks, or swans, on the canals for eternity. 

In reality, however, swans have been swimming on the canals since the beginning of the 15th Century, when they were seen as a status symbol of the city’s power and wealth.

The picturesque building which meets its reflection in the lake (above, bottom left) is the Sashuis (or Lock-Keeper's House)  used to regulate the city's water supply The current Sashuis was built in the 16th Century to replace a 13th Century lock complex. It has been out of use since the 1970s but the three sluice gates are still clearly visible. 

Leaving Jos topping up his Vitamin D levels on that lakeside bench, I decided to walk into the direction of the bridge the eagle-eyed of you might be able to spot between the trees on the bottom right in the above collage, and which lies at the opposite end of the Minnewater.

There were picture postcard views everywhere I looked, and I couldn't resist taking snapshots of the reflections in the mirror-like surface of the lake. Quite a few trees seemed to be reluctant to let go of their leaves and, if one half-closed one's eyes, one could even imagine it being at the tail-end of Summer rather than the year's penultimate month. But then the quality of light - so typical of a sunny Autumn day - and the seasonal show of reds, yellows and golds were giving the game away. 

The picturesque building on the east bank of the lake is Minnewater Castle, previously known as Castle de la Faille and built in neo-Gothic style in 1893. Opened in 2015 as a brasserie with a lake-side terrace, we had the pleasure of enjoying cups of cappuccino here on a bitterly cold day back in March 2022. 

Upon reaching the bridge which marks the end of the lake, one comes face to face with the imposing Poertoren (Gunpowder Tower). The defensive tower, which was built in 1397 and stands 18 metres tall, was originally part of one of the city gates and was later converted into a gunpowder store. 

The bridge leads into the leafy Minnewater Park, where I took one of the winding paths to take me back to the start. I stopped to take a photo or two whenever a view of the lake opened up, and ultimately passed the rather forlorn looking Minnewater Castle (above, top right). The latter didn't seem to be open so that we would have to look elsewhere when in need of sustenance.

After touching base with Jos on his bench and making sure he was ok, I decided to join the hordes of tourists who were taking a guided tour of the Beguinage. As they all seemed to walking into the direction of the main gate, I took the one opposite the Lock-Keeper's House, and walked along a dead-end street with a couple of houses called de steert (transl. the tail).

Years of practice makes it look as if I was on my own here, but trust me, I wasn't. The place was inundated with groups of tourists who were being entertained by knowledgeable guides speaking every language under the sun.

The  'Princely Beguinage Ten Wijngaerde' was founded in 1245. This little piece of world heritage was once the home of the beguines, emancipated lay-women who nevertheless led a pious and celibate life. Their life in the beguinage was lived in silence as much as possible. 

Today it is still inhabited by a few nuns and by single women who choose to live a serene lifestyle. 

Leaving de steert, the Beguinage enfolds as a rough circle of delightful whitewashed houses surrounding a central green. In Spring, this is a mass of daffodils, which is quite a magical sight. 

Before leaving the beguinage, I paid a brief visit to its church (top and bottom left and bottom centre).

The 13th-Century St. Elisabeth church was originally Gothic, but almost completely burned down in the 16th Century due to a fallen candle. Some baroque interior elements were added during its reconstruction in the 17th Century.

The shrine to Our Lady of Banneux, virgin of the poor (above, top right), is hidden away in a little chapel in the front garden of one of the beguinage's cottages. 

It was almost 1.30 pm when I finally rejoined Jos, and my stomach was audibly rumbling. Walking away from the Minnewater on the picturesque Wijngaardplein we spotted an empty table on the terrace of a restaurant called La Dentelliere and decided to look no further. 

Jos still wasn't hungry and the pasta dish I'd ordered turned out to be fairly basic, so that it wasn't the most enjoyable experience ever, apart from the fact that we were able to eat outside in bright Autumnal sunshine on the 6th of November!

Wijngaardplein is the place where the horse carriage rides stop for a breather. The horses can be seen enjoying a short break from their work here and being given buckets of feed which the poor creatures need to share with the eternally famished flocks of pigeons. 

The afternoon was well advanced by the time we (or rather, I) finished lunch, so we decided to walk back to 't Zand.  I'd devised a little route which would take us past some Godshuisjes (Alms Houses), but unfortunately these turned out to be closed off as they were in the process of being restored.

Eventually we arrived in the peaceful Arents Courtyard, which is surrounded by the Arentshuis after which it was named and which has temporary exhibitions of fine art, the Onze Lieve Vrouwekerk (Church of Our Lady), and the the city palace of the lords of Gruuthuse, now an award-winning museum.

The chap on the top left in the above collage is one of the The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by Belgian sculptor Rik Poot (1924-2006).

From here, we wanted to cross into the courtyard in front of the Gruuthuse museum, but once again we found our plans thwarted by the omnipresent roadworks. Sigh! 

I still managed to take a couple of snapshots of the former palace's magnificent façade.

Then we took a deep breath and entered tourist land, crossing the Dijver canal and making our way towards the Market Square and along Bruges' main shopping street until we reached the car park. 

Back at the B&B, we rested our feet until it was time to devour the rest of Veronique's tapas board. I'm sure you'll be glad to know that Jos managed to eat some of it and that in the course of the evening he suddenly declared he was feeling much better!

I'll be back with a more cheerful report of our second day, but in the meantime here's a peek of what I was wearing underneath that checked coat ...