Holiday with a hurdle

It's been exactly a month to the day that we exchanged Dove Cottage for our home away from home in Poperinge on Sunday the 21st of June.

However, as my blog title suggests, it was definitely a holiday with a hurdle. In fact, what with Jos's fall earlier that week, it was nothing short of a miracle that we even made it to the cottage which first captured our hearts back in 2012.

As a result of some gentle exercise and the benefits of the cortisone-like tablets he'd been prescribed, Jos's knee had healed sufficiently by Sunday, so that he was able to drive without any pain and walk short distances with the aid of his walking stick.

He was even able to climb and descend the eleven stairs leading up to the studio apartment above owner Marino's carport, albeit slowly, taking it one step at a time.

A hurdle in quite a different form would be the impending heatwave. With the temperature expected to steadily climb into the 30s, this would rather limit our options.

After our luggage was lugged upstairs by yours truly, we made ourselves at home and sat downstairs in the shade with a cool drink and a view of the flat-as-a-pancake landscape beyond the domain's duckweed covered pond.

Serenaded by a chorus of frogs, we'd slept like the proverbial logs, waking up still sleepy-headed around 8-ish on Monday morning. 

A glimpse through the cottage's French windows made me grab for my camera to catch the landscape beyond the pond veiled in a thick layer of fog. In front of the pond, three of the domain's four lawnmowers were already hard at work. Once the midday sun made it too hot for any living creature to bear, they retreated to their den under the trees and wouldn't be seen or heard of until she'd made her slow descend towards the horizon.

Not having made any plans whatsoever, we decided to take the short drive to the nearest of the Commonwealth cemeteries to our cottage. 

Only 5 minutes up the road, we would actually have been able to catch sight of Nine Elms British Cemetery from our cottage's balcony if that weeping willow wouldn't have blocked our view.

Entrance to the rectangularly shaped cemetery is through an archway with the Cross of Sacrifice visible in a central position at the far end. 

The cemetery contains 1556 Commonwealth burials of the First World War and 37 German war graves from this period. There are also 22 Second World War burials, all dating from the Allied retreat to Dunkirk in 1940.

The cemetery, which was begun in September 1917, was designed by Sir Reginald Blomfield.

Having walked the length of the cemetery, Jos was in need of a sit-down, offering the perfect opportunity to have a look at my outfit.

- Black and white diagonally striped max skirt: C&A Summer sales 2025

- King Louie t-shirt, necklace, belt and fake snake bag: charity shopped

- Butterfly brooch: AKotee (gift shop near my office)

- Hat: flea market

Leaving the cemetery, we continued to a small local supermarket to stock up on food and drink, after which we returned to the cottage for lunch.

The afternoon was spent having a lengthy siësta and reading. Note how my literature of choice matches my skirt!

On Tuesday morning, we were rudely awoken by a single thunderbolt followed by the pitter-pattering of rain against our windows. The rain lasted all the way through breakfast after which the mercury had dropped to a refreshing 21°C. 

Breakfast, by the way, consisted of softly boiled local eggs, obviously eaten with the obligatory soldiers!

With the last of the raindrops evaporated into thin air, it didn't take long for the temperature to reach 30°C (and beyond) again. 

Before it became too hot, though, we drove down to the one of the local woods for a walk.  The so-called Sixtusbossen (or Sixtus woods) are a 300 hectares complex of woods, which is cared for by Natuurpunt, the largest Belgian nature conservation organization.

There, I left Jos sitting on a shady bench while I went for walk based on the area's numbered walking map. 

Although signposted, I was a bit reluctant to take the overgrown path on the top right, which looked like it hadn't been walked on in ages. Still, I persevered, accompanied by the fierce barking of a dog who seemed to live behind the hedge on the right. I met the creature in question at the end of the path, where it turned out that the gate for the garden it was in stood widely open. Probably sensing my fear, it bared its teeth and continued its barking, which had turned quite menacing. I tried to remain cool headed and slowly proceeded along the tree-lined path on the bottom left, quite relieved that it didn't decide to follow me. Phew!

Back at the bench where Jos was waiting for me, I discovered that I'd lost my walking map somewhere along the way. Knowing the final numbers by heart, I hadn't made use of it for some time, so I had no idea where exactly it had made its escape. Nevertheless, I'm blaming the dog!

As the loss of the map would even further limit our options, we drove down to Poperinge in the afternoon to acquire a replacement from the tourist office in the town's buttery yellow neo-Gothic style town hall. 

Just look at that deep blue sky!

Before returning home, we stocked up on ice cream and cold drinks at the local supermarket.

Back at the cottage, we sought out that shady spot in front of the pond again, where we sat and sampled some refreshing alcohol free beers.

I was wearing the skirt I officially declared as my most worn this Summer in my previous post. It made no less than two appearance during our holiday.

- Skirt: Think Twice, March 2025

- Retro style naive flower print t-shirt: pre-blog high street sales bargain 

- Cat brooch: Katshop

- Spanish fan: charity shopped

That evening, we sat and watched the sun go down on our balcony before calling it a day and enjoying another night, its soundtrack once more provided by the resident frogs. 

 

With ever increasing temperatures of around 34°C forecasted for Wednesday, it was cool cottons to the rescue. 

I was wearing the tropical print tiered C&A skirt (a C&A Summer sales bargain in 2019) I'd worn to travel in on Sunday, its companion a green peasant style broderie anglaise blouse, picked up in the New Look sales several years ago. I was still in my slippers, which obviously I exchanged for sturdier footwear for the walk we'd planned that morning.

Armed with our new map, which we made sure not to leave out of our sights, we drove down to another wooded area, the Galgebossen, which lies about 8 kilometer to the Northeast of Poperinge.

Once arrived and parked, we left our car in the care of the local band of chickens, one of which seemed to have taken a shine to it.

We did a wonderful 6,5 kilometer walk here back in September 2022 but, although Jos declared himself ready to join me, we limited ourselves to a shorter version of just over 2 kilometer.

It was absolutely heavenly to walk on a succession of sun-dappled woodland paths, although the regular patches of sticky mud and puddles rather took us by surprise.

After a rest and refuelling at a little brick barn turned shelter with a view of a dew pond ringed by ancient pollarded willows, we embarked upon the return route.

Having guarded our car so diligently, we were ever so sorry that we'd come empty handed and were unable to reward the chicken with some tasty bites.

Thursday - and our last full day at the cottage - dawned all too soon.

Another scorcher with highs of 34°C, I was glad I'd packed my bag with lightweight heatwave proof clothes only. My fuchsia crinkly tiered skirt came out to play again, this time worn with a butterfly sleeved Zara blouse I'd charity shopped a couple of years ago. My string of multi-coloured beads was picked up from the charity shop here in Poperinge in September 2019.

With the temperature becoming more and more unbearable, we were at a bit of a loss what to do that day. That is, until Jos suggested another visit Talbot House in Poperinge.

It wouldn't be our first visit here. Our penultimate visit was back in September 2024, while I first introduced you to this wonderful place in September 2016.

Here's some potted history. 

Talbot House was opened in 1915 by British army chaplain Philip Clayton as a soldiers' club. During the Great War, Poperinge was part of unoccupied Belgium. Away from the turmoil of battle in the Ypres Salient, the town became the nerve centre of the British sector. Talbot House provided rest and recreation to all soldiers coming in, regardless of their rank.

It is still run by British wardens, aided by volunteers, and all visitors are offered a cup of tea or coffee, included in the ticket price. 

We got talking to that week's group of volunteers, who came from Bruges and whom we delighted with our knowledge of their home town. While I briefly explored upstairs, one of them accompanied Jos to an exhibition space in the garden where, courtesy of aircon, it was mercifully cool. He then came to look for me telling me where he'd left my husband.

We spent the afternoon lounging around the cottage once more and spent a very sweaty and uncomfortable final night before loading our car and driving back home in the morning.

With our UK holiday fastly approaching, I hope I'll find some time for another catch-up before we leave. If not, thank you for reading and see you on the other side!

A little French adventure

Hello friends and readers! I'm delighted that you are joining me again for the second installment of my latest travelogue. To refresh your minds: we were staying at the little cottage in Belgium's west country which has been our home away from home for many years.

One of the advantages of staying in Poperinge, in the far west of Belgium commonly known as the Westhoek, is that it is just a stone's throw from the French border. In fact, the road which passes our cottage leads all the way to border town Watou, a matter of just under 6 kilometers away.

And so it was that on Monday the 1st of September - the first day of school after the long Summer break - saw us driving to Cassel, a charming little hilltop town in the north-eastern corner of France.

With the weather forecast for the week ahead speaking of stormy weather, we were pleased to notice that on this day at least the weather gods were showing us some mercy. In fact, our 30-minute journey under a bright blue sky dotted with cotton wool clouds couldn't have been more delightful.

Driving on a succession of quiet country roads through fields of green, we suddenly spotted Cassel hill on the horizon. It might look like a mere bump on the horizon here, but the hill the town is perched on is about 176 meters above the Flanders plain.

The final stretch of our journey was on a bumpy cobbled road which zig-zags up the hill, until finally the town centre is reached. On our two previous visits, in 2017 and 2021, we were able to snag a rare free parking spot at the edge of the Grand'Place, so we were hoping to do the same this time around.

However, our hopes were dashed and we had to drive around in circles and part of the way back down the hill until we finally found a spot on the Rue de Bergues, a quiet back street with a view! Having been there before, I instantly recognized the octagonal Horne chapel we'd passed when following the town trail which starts at the Grand'Place. After leaving our car, making sure with a local that there was no charge, we tried our luck at the chapel, but unfortunately found its doors firmly locked. Still, I managed to capture some of its interior through the grilles before making our way to the town centre.

This meant either walking back up the road we'd driven down on, or proceeding into the direction of the Place Vandamme, where a cobbled footpath leads uphill to the top of Mont Cassel.  Although this would involve a more strenuous walk by far, it would also be the most picturesque, so that it was actually a no-brainer!

Apart from the panoramic views of Flanders stretching as far as the eye can see, the hill is worth climbing for the Casteelmeulen (transl. Castle Mill), a post mill situated on the highest point of the hill on the site of a former castle. The present mill dates from the 18th century and is a listed building. Meulen, by the way, is the old-fashioned Flemish word for mill, while the modern word, which we use on the other side of the border, is molen.

We've been told that the people of French Flanders are proud of their Flemish heritage and that there are still evening classes teaching the language, which, confusingly, is a little bit different from the Flemish we speak on our side of the border.

Having to share its limelight with the mill is the equestrian monument of Marshall Foch, who had his headquarters in Cassel from October 1914 to June 1915, during the Battle of Ypres. 

Ferdinand Foch (1851-1929) was a marshal of France and commander of the Allied forces during the closing months of World War I, and generally considered the leader most responsible for the Allied victory.

We descended the hill by way of the Rue du Château, passing a couple of examples of what I'm euphemistically calling delightful dilapidation, with their peeling paint and rusty hinges. I loved the contrast of the pink geraniums with the flaky green paint of the window frames and, in one of the immaculately maintained houses on the other side of the street, the lace curtains which paid homage to the mill on the hill.

Having finally made it to the Grand' Place, our faintly rumbling stomachs told us the time of day. With Monday being the closing day of the majority of eating places here, we'd taken our precautions and packed a picnic. This turned out to have been the best decision as the only decent place which was in business was chock-a-block. The day's highs of 22°C being tempered by a fierce wind, sitting outside wasn't an option so that most people had fled inside.

We took shelter on a bench in front of l'Hôtel de la Noble Cour, a 16th-century Flemish mansion which is home to the Musée Départemental de Flandre, where we enjoyed the cheese and ham sandwiches we'd made that morning.

Feet rested and stomachs filled, we admired the 16th-century Renaissance façade with its abundance of stone carvings.

Classified as a Historic Monument, l'Hôtel de la Noble Cour is considered one of the most beautiful Flemish buildings in the Hauts-de-France region.

We then continued our explorations by walking around the corner and underneath the Porte d'Aire, one of Cassel's four remaining medieval town gates.

At the end of the Rue d'Aire lies one of the access points to the Chemin de Remparts, which skirts the town walls and consists of old cobblestone paths and narrow alleys.

The final stretch leads through an alley between houses, at some point only 70 centimeters wide, and eventually emerging onto a road leading back to the Grand'Place.

Still far too early to call it a day, we walked the length of the Grand' Place until we arrived in front of Cassel's recently restored main church, Collégiale Notre Dame de la Crypte, a listed monument since 1981.

While Jos took a breather on one of the church chairs, I explored its lavishly decorated interior, which included stained glass windows, wall paintings of various saints and ... a statue of St. Jeanne d'Arc which apparantly was only discovered in 2020. 

The crowned girl who is reclining below the altarpiece is St. Philomena (291-304), the patron saint of a wide variety of people and causes. Among these are babies and children, those trying to conceive, desperate or forgotten causes, prisoners, virgins, and youth. Little is known about her life, but it is believed she was a Greek princess who became a virgin martyr and died at 13-years-old. In 1961, a decree was issued by Rome stating that due to a lack of historical evidence to support the traditional story of St. Philomena’s life, her feast day was to be removed from the Roman Calendar. In doing so, many Catholics mistakenly took this to mean that St. Philomena was somehow no longer a saint, and devotion to her faded. Not here in Cassel, though ....

Oh, and look, here's St. Francis of Assisi, who was the first to receive the stigmata.

And no, I'm not knowledgeable about saints at all, I just love their at times gaudy statues. I was intrigued by poor St. Philomena's, so I just had to google her ... and then I came across St. Francis as well.

Having finished our explorations, we walked back up the Grand' Place, where we had a restorative petit café - which came with the tiniest of Madeleine cakes I'd ever seen - before girding our loins for the trek back to where we'd parked our car.

Of course, I couldn't help stopping to photograph some more charming little details along the way!

The sun had done a disappearing act by the time we were back at the cottage, with the sky holding the promise of imminent rain. 

However, there was still time to pose for outfit photos on our little balcony.

I found the black floral maxi skirt at Think Twice during a lunch-time rummage with my friend Inez in August, while the peasant-style denim blouse was a charity shop find back in April. Both were united in their first outing which took them abroad :-)

But the day still had a little surprise up its sleeve. 

Looking down from the balcony, we spotted this gorgeous furry creature, who was watching us with a  look of recognition in her eyes. It was none other than the tiny kitten we'd secretly fed and made friends with last year! She started mewing pitifully, so of course we had to go down and pet her. And yes, she got a little treat from us as well. But shh, don't tell!

Of frogs and towers

Hello friends and readers, and welcome to the third and final episode of my mini-travelogue. Thank you for bearing with me while I've spent the past week recovering from last Sunday's flea market - which went well, by the way! - and - yes, I admit - honing my procrastination habits! I had Monday off which meant a lot of catching up at the office on Tuesday. And then I had to go into the office for a couple of hours on my usual Friday off as my colleague is currently on holiday. 

But it's time I get my skates on, as my blog has only just passed the month of June's half-way point, with our week away slowly but surely receding into the mists of time.

Wednesday - we were the 18th of June by now - promised to be another day during which the sun would be working overtime and on which the temperature would easily reach the forecasted highs of 25°C.

Our view towards the Franco-Flemish hills was bathed in a veil of haze and much to our surprise the resident heron wasn't joining us for breakfast at its usual hour. In its place on the tangle of dead branches a cormorant sat drying its wings after its morning catch of fish (above, top left). Its toilette completed, the majestic bird flew off, its place swiftly taken over by the heron, with whom it must have had some sort of agreement.

Both our breakfast and toilette completed, we were ready for the day's adventure! Armed with another picnic and a walking map of the area we got into our car and drove to De Palingbeek. At over 230 hectares, this is the largest Provincial Domain in the West of Flanders, situated on the outskirts of Ypres, and just over 20 kilometers from Poperinge.

There are several car parks to start one's walk from but, just like we did on our previous visit in September 2023, we opted for the easy-to-find one near the domain's visitor centre. After finding a shady spot for our car, we confidently set off on our intended walk. But not before having a nosey in the Bijenhal (bee hall), an educational apiary comprising of five hives maintained by the local beekeepers' association. With the ecological kitchen gardens on their doorstep, the bees are definitely living their best lives!

After leaving the bee hall, we had our first hurdle at the first numbered marker we came across: the number 62 it was directing us to seemed to be missing on our map! With our tendency of getting lost even with the aid of a map this would have been a recipe for disaster! Thankfully, the visitor centre came to our rescue with a more recent version of our hopelessly outdated map.

That settled, we started walking into the direction of the now no longer elusive number 62, when we were  temporarily distracted by the deafening sound of loudly croaking frogs emanating from a duckweed covered pool. Any attempts to try and catch some of the creatures on camera was futile, so I made a little video for you to enjoy! Make sure to crank up the volume!

De Palingbeek is a patchwork of pools and marshes, old and young woodlands, orchards and flower meadows, lawns and playgrounds. Obviously we were keen to avoid the latter, so we mainly kept to the woodland paths, where we encountered plenty of wildlife which, apart from the noisy gang of frogs and a plethora of songbirds, were mostly of the carved wood variety.

Apparently, there are 3000 different species of animals who have made the Palingbeek their habitat. Each year one of these is picked as "animal of the year", the lucky one in 2025 being the frog!

As lunchtime was fastly approaching we were desperate for a sit-down and a bite to eat, so we started looking for a suitable bench to have our picnic on, our only condition being that it was in a quiet and shady spot. 

Consulting our map, we saw that we were nearing Astrolab Iris, an observatory located within the domain, the map showing a small area with picnic tables opposite the building itself. Much to our dismay, though, the only table in the shade was taken up by a French couple playing a game of cards. But then we found a completely deserted table, which could easily accomodate a dozen people, in the observatory building's courtyard. We were just about to unpack our picnic when one of the domain's gardeners turned up, soon to be followed by his colleagues. Not wanting to rob them of their designated spot for lunch, we packed up and continued our search.

We finally found our shady bench opposite Hedge Row Trench Cemetery, one of the Commonwealth War Cemeteries within the domain. We'd been here before, in September 2023, when we approached it from a different direction. Back then, there was a row of haversacks displayed on pedestals next to the cemetery, each containing the personal belongings of a fallen soldier buried here. The items were preserved behind plastic: a white handkerchief, a field shovel, a water bottle, a tin of corned beef and a torch to name but a few. These were now gone, so that at first I thought this was a different cemetery altogether.

There is indeed yet another military cemetery a hundred meters or so down a grassy path from Hedge Row Trench. This is First DCLI Cemetery, The Bluff, which takes its name from the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry. 

The narrow ridge known as The Bluff was one of the few places where the Allies held higher ground than their opponents. For this reason, at the end of 1915 and throughout 1916, the Germans attempted to capture the position.  As a result, it was the scene of several underground explosions and heavy fighting, culminating on 25 July 1916 in a massive explosion which blew away the top of the mound and replied by the British in December 1916 with mines of their own. 

The burials here, a total of 76, with 13 of them unidentified, date from April-July 1915.

A quick look at my outfit before we continue our walk. My beloved chambray skirt came out to play again, this time paired with a zig-zag patterned top charity shopped last Summer. The green stretchy belt with its bamboo buckle was a high street shop sales bargain a year earlier.

Emerging from the woods, we were faced with a patchwork of fields which offered a view of the towers of Ypres (above, top right). A sandy path meandered along the fields until, shortly before reaching our final destination at the infamous number 62, we came across a grassy area presided over by a rather splendid wooden owl sculpture.

While Jos was resting his feet on a conveniently placed - and shady - bench, I decided to keep the owl company by reclining on the grass.

Our walk completed without any further hiccups - miracles do happen! - we returned to the cottage for a well-deserved siesta. 

By then, we still hadn't heard back from my brother and his girlfriend. But then it suddenly dawned on me that one of my brother's friends had once supplied me with his girlfriend's phone number. Just as notorious as my brother for her aversion to mobile phones, I nevertheless decided to take my chances and sent her a message ...

Our evening meal that day was a delicious cold platter we'd picked up at a small local supermarket, consisting of baked salmon, hard boiled eggs, potato salad and plenty of veggies. Yummy! 

The weather gods had cranked up the thermostat to 27°C on Thursday. We had plans of a different kind that day, for which we drove down (or rather, up) to the Kemmelberg, at 156 meters the highest hill in Flanders. Courtesy of another batch of diversion caused by roadworks, our Satnav finally managed to get us to our destination in a roundabout way. I decided I would be able to do better on our return journey, and I actually did!

Our destination was the Belvédère  observation tower, which is the undisputed eye-catcher at the top of the hill. A previous attempt to visit the tower a couple of years ago was thwarted by the fact that it was closed at the time because the restaurant it belonged to was declared bankrupt. 

I was happy to read that last year the owner of the property and the municipality of Heuvelland (the collective name of the eight villages lying in the hilly country south of Poperinge) had come to an agreement so that the tower could once again be opened to the public.

Climbing the enclosed winding concrete staircase wasn't a problem for vertigo-suffering yours truly, but I instantly experienced the tell-tale wobbly legs even as we emerged on the loggia beneath the actual platform on top. Still, I forced myself to get my act together and climb on.

170 metres above sea level, the views are breathtaking.  You can see as far as 40 km and even further with the binoculars supplied, although it was a tad too hazy for a clear view.

Reading that the restaurant has recently been taken over and re-opened, and that the owners have plans to restore the tower to its former glory, we were glad to have made the effort, as it might well be closed for the duration next time we're here.

Before we descend to ground level once more, here's a potted history of the tower. From the late 19th century onwards, the West Flemish hill country became popular as a tourist region. The area was mainly visited by the bourgeoisie from northern France - we are just a stone's throw from the border here - and in 1889, a picturesque observation tower was built on top of the Kemmelberg.  This was a brick tower topped with a wooden platform and a bear cage built into its base as an additional attraction. 

After being destroyed during the First World War, the tower was rebuilt in 1924, together with an adjoining house and taproom. The Belvédère observation tower was listed as a monument in 2004.

My outfit, consisting of my fast fashion turned slow jumpsuit which has been going strong since its purchase in 2018, was selected especially to climb those stairs!

Back on safe ground, we paid a brief visit to the 18 metre-high column, popularly known as "The Angel", a French memorial erected in 1932 to commemorate the heavy fighting which took place here in April 1918. 

 

Then we retrieved our picnic from the car and embarked on a short numbered walk of just over one kilometre. Well, short it may very well have been, but we're talking about Flanders' highest hill here, and what goes down must come up! And there wasn't a single bench to have our picnic on either ...

We did make a slight detour to the row of bunkers below the Lettenberg - a spur of the Kemmelberg - which was the most important British observation post in the sector. Towards the end of 1916, British engineers and tunnellers started excavating an underground headquarters complex here. The concrete bunkers which gave access to these have now been restored. There are four shelters built in reinforced concrete. 

Back at the car, we decided against having a car picnic and drove back to the cottage instead, installing ourselves on the rustic wooden chairs beneath the balcony. The perfect place for a picnic in the shade!

It was while we were having our usual siesta that I finally heard back from my brother's girlfriend. Apparently they were no longer at the brewery complex, having found a place in the south of France where they will be staying until November. Donna, you were right! And no, I've no idea why my brother never told me. Even my sister, whom he is much closer to in age, wasn't aware of his whereabouts ...

Suitably restored after our siesta, we drove down to Poperinge as we both had a craving for waffles!

And then our final day dawned! With temperatures nudging 30°C, which unfortunately triggered one of my migraines, it was to be a day of indolence. After stocking up on more of those delicious cold platters - the baked salmon substituted by smoked salmon and fresh asparagus rolled in ham respectively - we didn't leave the cottage again until mid-afternoon, having another picnic beneath the balcony (above, top left and centre). 

After a leisurely stroll through Poperinge's Dirk Frimout park (named after a local astronaut who was the first Belgian in space), we plonked ourselves down on the terrace of one of the cafés lining the market square, where we enjoyed a dish of cheese cubes and some alcohol free beers.

As we will be back here in the first week of September - at that time just under two and a half months away - we weren't feeling as wistful as we usually do when watching the world go by on our little balcony that evening.

Goodbye, lawnmowers, we will be back soon!