Life goes on

 After a week's delay, Jos finally got green light for his second course of chemotherapy on Thursday the 26th of March. During the procedure, which generally takes about three hours in total, I kept him company with my current read and enjoyed a free cup of coffee in the lounge provided for patients and their families.

No chance of sitting outside in the courtyard as the sunny spell was very short-lived, the sky reverting to granite grey mere minutes after I'd taken this photo. The eagle-eyed among you may notice the wet paving stones outside, the result of the rain we'd started the day with.

As we were out of bread, I went to buy a loaf in the tiny supermarket in the lobby and, with Easter virtually on our doorstep, treated us to half a kilo of scrumptious chocolate mini eggs in the on-site Leonidas shop.

With Jos's appetite having made a temporary come-back, it didn't take very long to get to the bottom of this bowl. 

That evening, Jos declared a craving for frietjes van de frituur, meaning Belgian (not French!) fries bought from that most traditional of Belgian institutions, the frituur, as ubiquitous as the British chip shop. With one of these virtually around the corner from Dove Cottage, that was our evening meal sorted.

In the next couple of days Jos was feeling quite energetic and, just like during his first round of chemotherapy, didn't suffer from any side-effects to speak of. Apparently, this is due to the cortisone-like medicine which he is given before and after chemotherapy to prevent nausea and which has the welcome side-effect of giving some lucky people an energy boost.

We knew it wouldn't last, so we decided to make the most of it. If only the weather gods had been better behaved!

We woke up to overnight frost on Saturday and the forecast wasn't looking very promising. Spring was dragging her heels and, with a chilly wind blowing and the mercury refusing to let go of the single digit temperatures, Jos drove me to the local charity shop for a rummage in the afternoon. Meanwhile, he took the car for a spin, finishing with a non-alcoholic beer at his favourite village café.

Contrary to their colleagues of the weather department, the gods of the charity shops were on their best behaviour and finds were plentiful.

For starters, these two skirts ended up in my shopping basket. The red one with its brown and white garland pattern is handmade from a sturdy cotton, lined, and perfect in every way except, alas, for a lack of pockets. I'm actually wearing it as I type.

The red, white and blue leaves and berries patterned A-line skirt is by King Louie.

There were dresses galore, and from the armful I took into the fitting rooms these three have joined my wardrobe. The embroidered chambray knee-length dress is from C&A, the red and white striped maxi from H&M and the black floral with the odd bird maxi from Vero Moda.

Finally, I fell head over heels for these two very different blouses. 

As I am partial to a bird pattern, the green flamingo patterned one was a no brainer. Same as the black floral maxi, it's from the Danish Vera Moda label.

The blue short-sleeved blouse with its sprinkling of red, orange, green and white dots is label-less and has every indication of having been handmade.

As we are no longer in the habit of making outfit photos, we cleanly forgot to do so that day.  However, here you can catch the briefest of glimpses of my rust coloured opaques, orange socks and my stripy vintage skirt (this one!). 

But I'm sure you only have eyes for Queen Bess of Dove Cottage!

We woke up to a repeat of Saturday's weather on Sunday, although the clouds did make way for the odd patch of blue sky.

With the temperature still not having caught up with the season, I pulled this thick knit zipper front King Louie dress from my wardrobe. Charity shopped back in September, this was actually its first outing, for which it was joined by a contrasting mustard cardigan. As the latter is buttonless, I pinned a green-hearted brooch to its collar to keep it closed. Teal opaques, an old pair of tan boots, a mustard beaded necklace and chunky yellow ring completed my outfit.

As it looked set to remain dry, I persuaded Jos to go for a long-overdue walk, for which we drove to the park in one of our neighbouring villages, Duffel. However, he looked quite doubtful when I uttered the words "15-minute walk", protesting that he'd probably only make it to the first available bench.

Much to our mutual surprise, he just kept on going - that's him in the distance in the top left photo of the above collage - and insisted on continuing around the park's biggest pond.

All in all, we walked for over half an hour, sampling the sensory delights of Spring, which seemed to have arrived regardless of us being otherwise occupied. 

Surely, this host of daffodils, tiny as it is, must be Spring personified, the ultimate symbol of new beginnings. 

Additionally it's also the symbol of cancer charities in many countries ...

Thank you for reading. I hope to be back soon!

Shoes, glorious shoes

Are you ready for episode # 4 of my September travelogue? I really hope you are as I've got something rather special for you in store!

It was Thursday the 4th of September and, although we woke up to sunshine, layers of grey cloud soon started appearing on the horizon. Thankfully the wind had finally calmed down, so that at least it wouldn't be tampering with the day's highs of 22°C. The weather forecast was still uncertain, though, with a promise of rain at some point during the day.

We'd exhausted most of the immediate area's wet weather options over the years and as we weren't in the mood for a repeat, we cast our nets further afield.

Our destination of choice was the industrial town of Izegem, a drive of just under an hour from our holiday cottage. If you're wondering about the appeal of this particular town, then let me introduce you to this gem of a 1930s Art Deco building, the existence of which I would have been completely unaware of if it weren't for an episode of  Belgium's version of Four in a Bed. The moment I clapped eyes on the building's magnificent façade, I knew I wanted to visit this former shoe factory turned museum.

Having consulted the museum's website, I noted that it was open from 10 am until 5.30 pm. However, it turned out that outside of the school holidays the museum was only open in the afternoons, so that upon arrival at around 11 am we found its doors firmly locked. 

Still, our attempts to gain entry had attracted the attention of one of the members of staff, who came and told us that the museum was closed. He must have seen the disappointment on our faces though, so after inquiring whether we'd come far, he decided to open up the museum just for us! We couldn't thank him and his colleague, who had to start up the museum's computer system to allow us to pay for our entrance tickets, enough. Such a lovely thing to do!

For decades, Izegem was widely known as the Belgian capital. In fact, the term Chaussure d'Iseghem (transl. shoe of Izegem) was a highly valued hallmark, the city owing much of its wealth to the shoe industry.

After having paid for our tickets, we were directed to take the lift to the top floor for a temporary exposition called Schoen. Passie (transl. Shoe. Passion), dedicated to the fascination with high-heeled shoes for women. 

 

The shoes on display here are a selection of two significant donations of private shoe collections received by the museum in 2024.

These donations, which add up to over 2500 pairs of shoes and significantly expanded the museum's collection, used to belong to Frieda Dauphin-Verhees from Antwerp and Louis Henrard from Liège. Together, they are offering an overview of more than a century of shoe fashion. 

Our heads still reeling after feasting our eyes on shelf after shelf filled with seriously drool-worthy shoes, we descended to the third floor. Here one can find an exhibition dedicated to that other industry that put Izegem on the map from the 19th century until well into the 20th century: brushes!

Dating from around 1935 and made in Birmingham rather than Izegem, this enamelled toilet set instantly caught my attention due to the similarity with a set we picked up in a UK charity shop many years ago.

Descending to the second floor where the main part of the shoe collection is housed, I was distracted by the splendour of the Art Deco interior. 

The original colour schemes of the granite floors, wall paintings and windows were meticulously restored in 2015. 

The whole floor was a photographer's delight, especially since we had the place to ourselves and didn't have to photograph around people. In fact, only Jos and one other guy insisted on being in the frame!

The guy in question (and I don't mean Jos!) was Edouard Dierick (1800-1875), the founder of the Izegem shoe industry. 

Aged 12, he started as an apprentice in his father's shoemaker's workshop. Following the sudden death of his father, Edouard took over the business. At that point, he had never made a complete shoe. Nevertheless, he managed to improve and increase production. He even invented a ruler to measure the length and width of the foot, a system that would be adopted in the United States a hundred years later.

Eduard is best known for the patent for waterproof shoes that he received from King William I. 

As a token of gratitude for receiving this patent, he presents William I with a pair of boots, of which he makes this identical replica (top left) for his store. Dating from 1830, it is made of calf's leather, hand-sewn and with delicate ornamental stitching on the heels.

In 1935, Edouard recreated his masterpiece by making a pair of boots for King Leopold I (top right), which were exhibited at the industrial exhibition in Brussels.

These shoes and boots, displayed in one of the rooms, all date from the early 1900s. Isn't that pair of tan lace-up boots the stuff of dreams? Not that I would ever be able to walk in those heels. Sadly enough, those days seem to be over ...

A replica of a shoe shop was set up in another room, where one was invited to try on the shoes displayed on the shelves. While Jos was resting his feet on a chair in the corner, I insisted on getting my money's worth by trying on the pairs in my size which appealed to me. The heels on the ones on the left were quite lethal, though. I was glad to be back in my trainers!

After this brief intermezzo, we oohed and aahed at the shoes displayed in a time-line of shoe fashion over the years. Suffice to say that there were quite a few pairs I wouldn't mind having in my collection. 

The former shoe factory in which the museum is housed was founded in 1863 by Emiel Vandommele, who was a pupil of the aforementioned Eduard Dierick. After many wanderings around Izegem, they finally ended up here in 1909 and the factory became known as Eperon d'Or.

They were proud to be certified purveyors to both the Belgian and the Luxemburg courts, as evidenced by the rather large Royal Arms on the front of the building. 

In recognition of the fact that Eperon d’Or had become the official supplier to both courts, the company made a bold statement by having an administrative front building constructed in front of the existing factory. It was designed in 1930 by Izegem architect Charles Laloo in pure Art Deco style.

Up until the Second World War, the shoes were made by hand, after which part of the process became automated. However, even when the factory finally closed down in 1967 a number  of models were still being made by hand.

Sadly, due to fierce competition, mainly from Italy and Eastern Europe, Eperon d’Or was declared bankrupt in 1967.

The above treasures were all made here and I'm sure you'll agree they are absolutely stunning.

And this is my very own pair of Eperon d'Or shoes! 

I bought them from a long-gone vintage shop about ten years ago, but only found out they were from this particular factory after we'd made plans to visit and, just out of curiosity, had a proper look at the pairs of vintage shoes which are living at the bottom of my wardrobe! 

Back on the ground floor, our visit still wasn't finished. 

Another temporary exhibition is currently running here, called Eigen Kweek (transl. Home-grown) which showcases the work of Belgian shoe designers.

The boots on the bottom right were instantly recognizable as being by Walter Van Beirendonck, while I photographed the Dries Van Noten shoes especially for Sheila. Both fashion designers were part of the famous Antwerp Six who graduated from the Antwerp Fashion Academy in 1982.

Finally, there was the factory hall at the back of the building, where, illustrated by a complete production line, one can learn how shoes were made in the 1950s as well as get acquainted with various kinds of leather, some of which I'd never even imagined existed.

All in all, our visit lasted almost two hours. Then, after purchasing some booklets about the shoe and brush industry from the museum shop, we returned to our car, ravenously eating the sandwiches we'd packed that morning.

But not before making some more photographs of that iconic building.

The building consists of a concrete skeleton finished with bricks. A striking feature of the two-storey façade is the staggered placement of the windows on the first floor. The tower on the corner contains the stairwell and is characterized by an open dome and vertical skylights.

The closing down of the factory was followed by its inevitable decline, but thankfully the front building was listed in 1999. The city of Izegem purchased the building in 2005 and opened the site as a museum in 2017.

But for how long?

Just weeks after our visit, I was scrolling through Instagram while on my way home, when a post from Eperon d'Or came up, announcing the fact that from the 1st of January 2026, it will no longer be run as a museum, and that seven members of staff are facing redundancy. 

The city council's decision came as a bolt out of the blue, and there has been a lot of protest, a petition - which obviously I signed - and a protest demonstration attended by 500 heritage enthusiasts, volunteers, and supporters last Saturday.

Will this be enough to make the city council reconsider its decision?

The forecasted rain arrived when we were on our way back to the cottage but had thankfully been chased away by sunshine and blue skies by late afternoon. 

You've already caught a glimpse of my skirt while I was trying on shoes. In fact, you've already seen me wearing it on the day of our little French adventure. The blue t-shirt with its three-quarter sleeves was charity shopped back in the mists of time, and picks up the blue flowers in the skirt's pattern perfectly.

So, that's it for now. I've still got one episode of my travelogue up my sleeve and hope you'll join me again in a couple of days' time.

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!