It's hard to believe we're more than half way through January by now. How the hell did that happen?
So far, the year's first month has been a bit of a disappointment. Forget about the concept of Blue Monday, I'm inclined to introduce Blue January instead. Not only have my stress levels gone through the roof lately, I seem to have succumbed to the dreaded lurgy again, due to which I've been coughing my lungs out since last Thursday.
OK, that's quite enough of my moaning. Let's return to happier times instead!
My Christmas break was still in full swing on Thursday the 28th of December and, as my previous cold seemed to have taken a backseat for now, I was determined to enjoy every minute.
Helpfully, the weather gods were clearly taking pity on us by sending - oh miracle of miracles - yet another dry day our way. But although the day's highs of 11°C were more than reasonable for the time of year, an at times blustery wind made it feel somewhat colder than it actually was.
I found the raspberry dress, which is sprinkled with tiny white stripes and yellow and white dots, at Episode - part of a Dutch chain of vintage shops - in February 2019. As its fabric is quite thin, with only the skirt being lined, I layered a yellow long-sleeved t-shirt underneath, which you might be able to catch a peek of between the bodice's tiny raspberry buttons.
I refrained from using yellow for the dress's companions and accessories, which would have been the obvious choice. Instead I wore a chunky knit caramel cardigan by Rhétorique - charity shopped in May - and a matching pair of opaques. Both my flower-infused brooch and Murano glass necklace were flea market finds, while the stretchy belt with it faux-bamboo buckle was picked up on the high street in March 2023.
While Jos was running an errand that morning, I took out my sewing basket and attached a loop to the purple and lime coat I found on Wednesday, so that it could be hung up on our hallway's coat rack.
Then, after lunch, we decided to make the most of the dry if somewhat cloudy weather conditions by going for a walk. Our destination of choice: Fort 5 in the neighbouring village of Edegem.
After Belgium gained its independence in 1830, the fear of a European conflict or invasion remained, primarily from the Netherlands and France. In 1859 it was decided by the Belgian government to defend the city of Antwerp by surrounding it with a 15 km long earthen rampart with 19 gates, based on a plan of military engineer Capt. Henri Alexis Brialmont.
It also had an advanced ring of 8 almost identical brick forts, commonly known as the Brialmont Forts. All the forts, except for Fort 1, are still in existence today, and most of them have been turned into nature reserves and recreational areas, with part of the buildings being used by a variety of local clubs.
Fort 5 is closest to where we live: a mere 10 minute drive is all it takes to the car park near one of the domain's entrances. Immediately upon entering a magnificent view of the moat opened up, with a mighty blue heron statuesquely perched on a toppled tree.
Instead of taking the obvious route, skirting the moat, we turned left on the path running behind the playground and, after taking another left turn, found ourselves walking in as yet unknown territory.
We did not worry about getting lost, though, as we could soon catch glimpses of the brick and sandstone fort buildings shimmering through the tangle of trees.
Then we came across the remains of what we think might have been the main entrance gate to the fort and which, in spite of countless of previous walks here, we'd never happened upon before.
Beyond the gate, a cobbled pathway lead us to the long row of atmospheric moss and lichen incrusted fort buildings, their woodwork in various stages of dereliction, and carrying the weight of over a century's worth of trees upon their roofs.
From here, we continued our walk along a path meandering through the semi-wilderness (below, top left), until we arrived at a grassy open space. At the other side of this, we spotted a familiar-looking low brick building, which seemed to have burrowed itself into the earthen mound, with eyes half-closed giving the impression of having a thatched roof.
It was then that we realized we'd been here on a previous walk when, with some trepidation, we'd had a peek into the creepy passage lying beyond the arched doorway on the bottom left.
Now, we only had to round the corner to find ourselves at the water's edge.
If the weak Winter sun had been making feeble efforts to break through the layer of grey at the start of our walk, she had by now given up all pretence. The sky was darkening as the afternoon progressed and it was only the wind, which had increased in force as we walked, which prevented the rain-pregnant clouds from discharging their cargo there and then.
The world had once again reverted to greyscale, the only colour provided by the bleached wood of the bird hide and the orderly row of ducks who sat looking forlornly at the wind-rippled water of the moat.
The narrow winding path along the moat eventually takes you to the spot where the fort straddles it. Here, the path enters a low tunnel, passes through a handful of draughty cobwebbed and graffitied rooms, and out again at the other end.
Before entering the tunnel, I briefly paused to show you my outerwear, consisting of one of my favourite vintage coats - on constant rotation with my fur-collared Princess coat - accompanied by a charity shopped yellow double knitted beret and the colourful pom-pom scarf I'd picked up the previous day.
The brooding sky and the wind which was making the branches of the trees ominously creak and moan made us quicken our step, anxious to re-join our car before the weather caught up with us.
Still, although Winter gets a bad rap all around, there's something to be said for these quintessential Winter landscapes, all but devoid of colour and framed by the twisted and gnarled skeleton trees.
We made it back unscathed, and the rain was kind enough to hold off until we were safely ensconced at home.
The year's final Friday brought grey skies and showers, the mercury still effortlessly climbing into the low double digits
I had this black, grey and red plaid wool-polyester blend dress earmarked for an outing for a while, and I'd even mentally sorted out its companions. Not that I deviated very much from its previous incarnation, worn after I brought it home from Think Twice at the end of 2022.
Its short sleeves almost dictated that I layered something long-sleeved underneath, and this red t-shirt turned out to be just perfect for the job. I echoed this with my red opaques and red elasticated belt with massive square mock croc buckle.
Both the chunky off-white flower brooch and the black and off-white beaded necklace are vintage, the former a flea market find and the latter bought from a sorely missed vintage shop I used to frequent.
A special mention goes out to my fake snake ankle boots, which were a sales bargain from New Look when they closed down all of their Belgian shops in 2019.
After the usual fruit and yoghurt breakfast, Jos did the year's final food shop, while I cleaned up the little kitchen cupboard we found at the indoor flea market earlier that month. It still needs a replacement handle for the yellow door, but it will definitely do for now.
We hung it up in its designated space, which we were relieved to find it fit exactly! Phew!
We currently store kitchen towels and cloths behind the yellow door and packets of tea behind the blue one! There was also some space to put a couple of our vintage tins on top, relieving a full to bursting shelf elsewhere in our kitchen.
The framed print is vintage and a true Flemish classic, admonishing you to refrain from cursing, as God is watching you! We've got two of those around the house, not that we are taking too much heed ...
