Brussels never fails to catch me out. I mean, it is the centre of the EU. I always think it should be vibrant. So I think that I am safe arriving with a late flight. Imagine my disappointment/frustration/annoyance/resignation to find, at 2315 hours, after I have checked into my hotel, that there is nowhere to eat. I wander for three quarters of an hour in rain and wind but finally surrender to the obvious fact that the entire city is closed, and for dinner I make do with a can of water and a packet of biscuits from a vending machine.
In fact, I tell a slight lie. I did find one place that I could have got a drink and some food. And it was tempting. But I finally decided I was not so desperate that I could justify going in a strip club. After all, I couldn't work out just how I would justify that on expenses.
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