Happy New Year!

Mesdames and Messieurs....HAPPY NEW YEAR and ALL THE VERY HAIRY CHEST!

The final couple of weeks of 2011 for me were as hectic as the end of a year can get. Much of my December timetable was clogged up with the sterotypical seasonal events of hunting out suitable but affordable gifts, the thankless task of writing Christmas cards and dipping in and out of Liege's magical 'Village de Noel' for the odd glass of mulled wine and  merry-making. The highlight of the yuletide season was the two weekends when we had the pleasure of hosting family and friends, which, added to a week-long visit to the parental home for the Christmas period, culminated in a rollercoaster of emotions from shared belly laughs to tearful goodbyes.

I'm hoping all this maybe serves as a valid excuse for my recent silence and seeming neglect of my blog. I have a tendency to scribble my thoughts down during my arduous daily train journeys, from which I have had a very welcome break, and, to put it bluntly, I have been having too much of a good time to be arsed with my blog. There I've said it!

Now it's back to business as usual and I'm hoping to keep my blog high on the list of priorities. Like every other Tom, Dick and Harry, I'm starting the New Year with the best intentions, determined to reduce my intake of alcohol and quit the 'bines and, of course, fit perfectly into a size 6 before bikini season is upon us - the latter is of particular importance after having to endure my brother refer to me as 'Mr Corden' over the last two weeks. My main focus this year will be to increase the level of creativity in my life, hopefully digging out my guitar again and attempting to write some more songs and develop my blog further (guest blogs and maybe even a new blog entirely). I already have some new experiences in mind to write about - hell, I'm even taking the day off work this week to try something new.

Before I turn my attention to 2012, I would like to dwell for a little while on the positive aspects of 2011.

Buying a bike
Despite the discovery that I am subject to bouts of road rage and have a vocabulary of French expletives that would make Bernard Manning blush, getting from A to B has been made much easier by the purchase of a city bike earlier this year. The morning ride along the river bank is a much better way to start the day than sitting with my head buried underneath my coat trying to stifle the odour of whoever has omitted to apply deodorant sat next to me on a stuffy bus.

Learning to bake
Another string to my bow that I never thought possible - has had adverse effects on my waistline but vastly increased my popularity amongst colleagues.

Starting a blog
Many moons ago, putting pen to paper came easily to me and was how I planned to earn my living. But life  got in the way and after years of writer's block and dwindling inspiration, I am overjoyed that I am finally back in the zone and have this outlet for my nonsense with the added bonus that people seem to read it and the odd weirdo seems to enjoy it.

Moving house
Good riddance to a bone idle landlord and house that was literally falling to pieces around our ears and hello to a new pad, so warm and cosy that a slanket is practically superfluous to requirements.

Learning to tap dance
For those who recall my earlier blog and lame attempts at fancy footwork, 11 lessons down the line, I can now perform a Shim Sham Shimmy (though not quite yet comfortably in public).

To Liege With Love xxx

It was a wet, grey and gloomy afternoon in the Summer of 1999, when I drank my first Cecemel Chaud on Wallonian soil. Looking around me at the ugly rainy atmosphere, the graffiti-ridden buildings and the abundant canine faecal matter, I wondered: "What am I doing here? Is this really going to be my home for the unforseeable future? Have I made a huge mistake?"

12 years later and I'm still here. One of the stalwarts. Practically a pillar of the community. Known to many locals as 'Clairvoyant', 'Madame Android 80' or just simply 'l'anglaise'. Unable to travel just a few yards down the road without a salutatory peck on the cheek, a friendly wave or even being dragged into the nearest cafe for 'un verre'. Wherever I have lived before, my existence has been one of anonymity and, in some places, almost been met with downright resentment. Not in Liege. Its warm and colourful people have opened their arms to me, welcomed me into the very heart of their cosy community, nurtured my eccentricities and drank to my health.

I'm not sure when my love affair with Liege began. It slowly crept up on me like alcoholic intoxication and I have, metaphorically speaking (and possibly even literally), never sobered up since. In the scheme of things, Liege is pretty much a non-entity: Lacking the splendour of Prague or the glamour of Barcelona, its dreary climate and central European location makes it nothing more than a convenient toilet stop on the way to Berlin, Amsterdam or Paris. But this is the city where an elderly gentleman feels comfortable enough to walk around a town centre supermarket with his pet cockatoo perched on the edge of a trolley; where the dogs are better dressed than most people and are treated to Saturday afternoon ice-cream; where a guy with a Salvador Dali moustache arrives on horseback for his Sunday morning coffee; where the gardening shops have racks of mint condition second-hand vinyl sat amongst the bottles of weed killer; where there's an annual spaghetti eating contest; where more than a handful of people use unicycles as a valid form of transport. Liege embraces all of life's eccentricities and with its hippy philosophy, manana attitude, flair for the creative and utmost respect for the absurd, offers a haven where Australian students, Iranian political refugees and Bolivian pan pipers can use one of its multitude of festivals as a convenient excuse to celebrate life.

It is with the heaviest heart that I feel compelled to relay events that have occured this week that would be enough to chew up and spit out even the most solid of communities. On Tuesday afternoon at approximately 12h30, a local man named Nordine Amrani opened fire in Liege's Place St Lambert massacring 4 people (a toddler, 2 teenagers and a 75 year old lady) and leaving many others gravely injured and the rest of us in a state of shock and bewilderment. Just inches away from the Christmas Village; last year covered in snow, this year a blood bath. After first lethally shooting a woman in a shed that he owned, armed with an assault rifle, a revolver and hand grenades, he indulged in the kind of murdering spree alien to most provincial towns, before turning a gun on himself and taking his own life. A convicted rapist and drug dealer, also previously charged for possession of lethal weapons, Amrani was released for good behaviour in 2010. It is believed that he had no terrorist connections and acted alone.

In committing this atrocity in the bustling Place St Lambert, where the grand architecture of years gone by sits comfortably alongside popular modern day chain stores, Amrani has as good as pierced the very soul of Liege.

The aftermath of these events has left our community reeling. We need answers. We need justice. We need peace of mind. From sick jokes and unwarrented racist slurs (although a Belgian national, Amrani was of Moroccan descent) on Facebook, to demonstrative outpourings of grief at the site of the incident via genuine heartfelt compassion, nobody has been left feeling indifferent.

Whatever your religion, I urge all my compatriots to take time out and give some thought to the victims. Let's all reflect on and light candles for those senselessly lost lives and their grief-stricken families. If action needs to be taken, let's point this in the direction of the justice system and the arms industry who have seemingly failed us by allowing the circumstances for this act of evil to take place. Let's eliminate the fear. Above all, let's come together and gently pull out the arrow that's pierced our soul and focus on healing so that we can live harmoniously again and Liege can continue to be the welcoming city we all love.

Please don't change, Liege.

Little Ole Wine Drinker Me

Last week: I went to my first ever wine tasting evening



Although I usually only drink the odd small sweet sherry over Christmas, I couldn't help but jump at the chance to attend a wine tasting evening held at our offices last week. At just 13€ a ticket, 'The Grape and the Glorious; Wines for Christmas' sounded like a promising event; the opportunity to taste some affordable but quality vino, mingle with colleagues and nibble on some fine cheese, bread and cold meats. All part of my education. Plus I was sure there would be spittoons just in case I really wasn't in the mood for boozing.

Our hostess was Sarah Morphew Stephen, who boasts the title of first ever female Master of Wine after making her mark on what was previously a male-dominated universe. A delightful lady, Sarah is knowledageble, witty and bursting with anecdotes and top tips to help novices like myself remove the cloud of mystique that surrounds the world of viticulture.

After a brief introduction from Sarah,where she explained how duty effects wine quality and by investing just a couple of pounds more than £3.99, you can happen on a rather decent bottle thank you very much, we got stuck into the whites. Our first wine on the list was the Vignobles Des Aubas Colombard-Gros Manseng 2010. Not so dissimilar to my usual white of choice, Sauvignon Blanc, this wine was dry, nice and crisp and packed with citrus flavours. Suprisingly, this Gascony nectar will only set you back £5.99 from Majestic. Until that evening I had never heard of Majestic Wine Warehouses before, but after trying some of the wines Sarah had selected from their range and seeing the competitive prices, I will definitely try to find an opportunity to browse their aisles. According to Sarah, it's hard to find staff with such great expertise, thanks to their meticulous training - the person hired to head up the Spanish wine section was sent to Spain on a month-long assignment shadowing the country's leading expert. For my training at Virgin Megastore, I was escorted into a cupboard, handed a roll of 99p stickers and a pile of cd singles and left there for the rest of the day to get on with it.

Our second white was 'Tesco's Finest' Mendoza Chardonnay 2009. Dubbed a 'granny' wine by Sarah due to it's potent nature (14 degrees alcohol makes it sweet enough to please the less discerning palate), this is best enjoyed with a heavy starter like foie gras. Finding it a little rough and overpowering and in the absence of such fancy schmancy entrées, I was more than happy to move on to the rosé. Sainsbury's provided the Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon Rosé, my second favourite wine of the evening. It was interesting to learn that until around 3 years ago, the popularity of rosé wine had completely dwindled thanks to the dodgy reputation thrust upon it by old 70's favourite Mateus. Thankfully we now have a much more palatable range to choose from, including Shiraz rosés and the likes of d'Anjou made from aristocratic grapes. On the other hand, Mateus is still the most imported wine in the USA. No way rosé.

Sarah definitely displayed a preference for New World wines, reflecting the growing trend in the UK where French wines are now only number 5 on the list of most imported, with Australian being the most popular and Chilean not too far behind. By far the highlight of the evening was The Crossings Marlborough New Zealand Pinot Noir, the most expensive, of course (£9.95), but definitely worth seeking out at The Wine Society.




Beware of overflowing spittoons.......

 
Although the wines under scrutiny that evening were mostly available in UK stores, Sarah had also taken the time to visit some Belgian supermarkets and suggested some viable alternatives. We came away armed with bundles of information and hurriedly scribbled notes. In total, we tried 7 wines, leaving me enough time to catch a train at a reasonable hour and my colleagues to empty any remnants from the stray bottles dotted around the room, which I'm sure they did admirably.

Would I try this again?: Go on then. Just one more for the road.
                                     More than £3.99? Sorry it's the end of the month.

Some interesting points from a Master of Wine:

1. "It's not food, it's mood"
Giving me carte blanche to ignore any wine snobs that I may encounter in the future, it was refreshing to hear an expert play down the importance of the correct pairing of wine and cuisine.

2. 72% of all wine purchased in the UK is consumed within 24 hours
The other 28% is presumably consumed in the checkout queue.

3. Adding a tablespoon or so of sweet dessert wine to a poor quality white wine can work magic. Likewise with port and red wine
Now there's an excuse to purchase a bottle of port if ever there was one...