We'd given ourselves a leisurely day to travel home. After coffee and pastries bought at a sandwich shop and eaten on the steps of the town hall, I visited a couple of shops I'd spotted and earmarked for later investigation: a comic shop and a cheap bookshop. There was, inevitably, purchase of Tintin merchandise, including a Flemish copy of my favourite adventure. Such is my familiarity with the English translation, I can understand just about every word. Want to know how to say "A shooting star! Quick, Snowy, make a wish!"? It's Een vallende ster! Vlug, Bobbie, doe een wens!
Also 'spider' is spin, which will be useful if I ever need to explain to a Belgian why I've suddenly screamed and jumped on a table; the noise Snowy makes is WOEHA; a knock on the door sounds like KLOP KLOP KLOP, while a slamming door goes BONS.
My final task was to buy some stamps and find a postbox before we hit the road for three more hours of dull Belgian motorway back to the Calais Eurotunnel terminal. Apart from a delayed train everything went smoothly, and I arrived home just after 7PM. Then I realised I hadn't put my dashboard clock back and it was actually just after 6.