A January state of mind

So far, January's weather has been a continuation of December's - and November's for that matter - offering an endless string of days in soul-sapping shades of grey, with sunny spells a rare and mostly short-lived commodity. On the handful of days that it doesn't rain, a persistent fog is overstaying its welcome, if not an eye-stinging beast-from-the-east wind is making one scuttle back inside.

In the last week or so the temperature, which had been up and down like a yo-yo, finally decided to duck below freezing point. Just a laughable couple of degrees to some, mind you, but quite enough to dig out my stash of jumpers. Gone are the days when the menopause made me break out in a sweat at the mere thought of them!

As I'm sitting here typing this post, rain is lashing against the window and I can hear the wind - the dregs of storm Éowyn which is wreaking havoc elsewhere - howling down the chimney, making it feel much colder than the 10°C promised by the weather forecast.

It was a different kind of weather we woke up to on Saturday 4 January. Miraculously, the sun managed to briefly break through the sky's uniform layer of grey once or twice, although the mercury got stuck at a mere 2°C. I needed an extra layer in the form of a chunky pink cardigan to combat the chill but, diligent blogger that I am, I briefly removed it to show you what I was wearing underneath.

The vintage wool blend Betty Barclay dress ticked all my boxes when I found it at Think Twice in November 2021. Making use of the pink stripe in its tartan pattern for my accessories, I added a textured belt from the high street, a charity shopped necklace and a vintage carved celluloid brooch I picked up from the Brooch Lady's flea market stall in 2017. My ankle boots are actually burgundy rather than the pink they appear to be in the photo.

As we had a family thing on Sunday, we needed to tick off a couple of chores on our to-do list on Saturday, which in my case included mending a fallen hem on the cord skirt I'd been wearing that week.

Not an easy task to accomplish with a feline who insists on making herself comfortable on your lap no matter what. 

Having reluctantly finished Sarah Waters' The Paying Guests a couple of days earlier, it was hard to find a suitable follow-up. I thought the playful tone of Nigel's Slater's Eating for England, a collection of short and often quite mischievous essays about the British and their relationship with food, would fill the gap nicely.

Sunday was an extremely wet day, during which the temperature gradually climbed from 2 to 12°C.

After dismantling the Christmas tree - much to Bess's chagrin, obviously - in the morning, we drove down to Jos's son and daughter in law for a family get-together and the reading of grandson Cas's New Year's letter (Nieuwjaarsbrief in Flemish). 

Flemish children are expected to write a letter with New Year’s wishes for their parents, godparents and grandparents, which is then read out loud in front of everyone. The tradition originated in the 16th century and was at first limited to the upper classes, who had access to education. At that time the letter was usually written in Latin and in verse. Since the mid-20th century, the custom has spread and is now an essential part of local culture.

Obviously Cas, at only 3 and a half years old not yet being able to read or write, got the necessary help from his Mum, Carolien.

The happy mix of stripy patterns I was wearing that day consisted of a knitted skirt from the German brand Bleyle and a faux-wrap jumper from C&A's Clockhouse label. Both items wended their way into my wardrobe through the charity shops, as did my necklace.

The green fabric belt with its scalloped metal clasp buckle - recently worn back in December  - used to belong to a dress which is no longer gracing my wardrobe, while my flower embroidered brooch was bought from Shrewsbury Antiques Centre in June 2019.

The weather during January's second week was quite a mixed bag, starting with a wet and very windy day with highs of 10°C on Monday. In spite of having had a fitful night's sleep, I managed to stay reasonably clear-headed throughout the day. Obviously, this might have been due to a cappuccino-fuelled catch-up with my friend Inez during lunch break! 

One of the perks of our catch-ups being at Antwerp's largest Think Twice shop is that we can go for a quick rummage afterwards. I might even have found a tartan skirt! 

The temperatures took a dive to the low single digits again the next day, where they would remain for the rest of the week and beyond. Lashings of rain and a gale force wind prevented me from venturing too far from the office, so that I inadvertently ended up at Think Twice again during Wednesday's lunch break.

This gorgeous mustard crochet purse insisted on coming home with me that day.

It started snowing quite heavily that evening, swiftly covering the world outside our window with a thick layer of the white stuff. Thankfully, it didn't stick and was all but gone by morning. However, as I was waiting for my bus, we were treated to another couple of flurries, which prompted me to whip out my phone and take this snap of our spotlighted village church.

Funnily enough, in spite of the wintry weather my bus arrived on time for first time that week! Belgian public transport definitely has its little idiosyncrasies - which is a nice way to say that most of the time it actually sucks big time.

As that morning my phone alerted me that another Think Twice sale was kicking off that day, I couldn't help but heading once more into its direction during my break. 

A green, yellow and white floral pussy-bow blouse and a green and purple midi dress were duly snapped up at 30% off. 

It was nothing short of a relief when Friday rolled along! What's more, it turned out to be a gloriously sunny but cold day, the mercury flitting around freezing point. The kind of Winter's day, in fact, that I would sign on the dotted line for. 

With my new-found need for wearing jumpers, I've been avidly adding to my collection, so that my wardrobe is more than ready to deal with this kind of weather!

Apart from my accessories - a mix of flea market and charity shop finds - the main components of my outfit were picked up from the high street.

I bought the chunky lilac and purple striped jumper in Belgian label Terre Bleue's closing down sale back in October, while the mustard flannel skirt was a bargain from Uniqlo two years previously. It's from the shop's collaboration with the French model and fashion designer Inès de La Fressange and I had been lusting after it for months. Having initially been told it was sold out, I couldn't believe my luck when I was able to buy the one which had been in the shop window at a reduced price. 

The unexpected bonus of sunshine was making me feel quite giddy and raring to go for a walk. If the weather forecast was to be believed - and they are usually spot on when bad weather's in the offing - it was actually now or never, what with the rest of the weekend looking quite atrocious.

After tossing around a couple of ideas over lunch, we settled on Den Brandt, one of the pearls in Antwerp's crown of parks to the south of the city centre.

Just like our beloved Middelheim sculpture park, those of you who have been reading my blog for a while have accompanied me here many times before. In fact, its entrance is just across the street from the part of the sculpture park called Middelheim-Laag.

I was remarking to Jos that we hadn't visited for months, but he was adamant that the last time had been after he'd been discharged from hospital. And while I was quite certain that it had been longer ago than that, I was still shocked when a search on my blog revealed that our last walk here was back in August!

After checking out the offerings made to the Gautam Buddha in the picking garden, we ventured into the park itself, relishing the fact that it was so much quieter here on a weekday afternoon in Winter than it was on that sunny August Sunday.

Back then, I photographed Jos against the backdrop of one of the park's veterans, a 200-year-old weeping beech (Fagus sylvatica pendula), at the height of Summer still fully and lushly in leaf. After Autumn ravaged its green canopy, its crooked and twisted branches (above, top left) might be looking dead to the world, but I'm sure this ancient giant will go on to live another day.

Nothing much remained of Thursday's snowfall, but I made a point to purposefully crunch through some of the patches we came across. After all, it might very well be my only chance to do so this Winter.

There was a flimsy layer of ice on the pond behind the recently renovated English-style cottage. This fairy-tale gingerbread cottage (see the ornamental stork perched on its roof on the top left) is purely ornamental and was placed in the garden as a romantic element, a folly if you like. Even after its renovation its door remains firmly locked and its shuttered windows do not allow for a peek inside ... which is a shame really!

Having meandered the park's paths for well over an hour, we now found ourselves at the front of the late classical castle which lies at the heart of the domain. Looking like a perfectly iced wedding cake from afar, up close it is clear that it is yet another victim of shameful and ongoing neglect. 

Before making our way back to our car, I photographed these mad-looking maidens which have been dancing around the fountain in the castle's front garden since 1911. 

Created by the German sculptor Walter Schott, I greatly prefer their nickname, the Dancing Nymphs rather than their official Three Graces moniker. 

The water in the fountain's basin was frozen solid and I imagine the maidens in their flimsy frocks were close to hypothermia!