Not Everyone's Idea of Fun

Tomorrow – if I can find my passport – I am leaving England for a few days. It is strictly business. Having dinner with members of the European Parliament and chairing discussions with officials from the European Commission is not everyone's idea of fun. In fact, many people would rather drink their own urine than have to go to Belgium and engage with the politicos of Brussels.

When glancing through a city with an agenda not of your own making, your relationship to it changes. I will be unable to navigate by my usual personal landmarks. There will be no dizzying, childlike glee from a visit to Brüsel, a comic book shop whose range and unstuffy attitude shames the likes of Forbidden Planet. There will be no supping in the history of four generation of the Vossen family along with a beer and the Art Nouveau décor at À la Mort Subite (which I think translates as 'Instant Death'). No half-en-half with Belle Époque temporal refugees at Cirio.

Dislocated from my map of the city, I will look for moments of personal pleasure in the simplest of things. A decent croissant and coffee, successfully finding the shop Surreal Girl wants chocolates from and maybe if I am really lucky, getting some perfect street frites.