I was in Belgium for eight nights and I booked for the first night in Leuven, second in Antwerp, third and fourth in Ghent, and the last in Brussels before I went. The first four nights went to plan. The last was a disaster, and it was nobody's fault. There are obvious lessons for anybody booking B&B by e-mail.
I started badly by getting the date wrong! My almost hostess (ah for short)then made a mistake by thinking I meant August rather than September. She corrected, I corrected, and she accepted the date as corrected. At this stage we were OK and she asked if I could give a rough time of arrival. I said I would phone from Belgium and let her know when I knew myself.
Here we go, or rather there I went, (to Belgium that is) on 8 September. It was on 8 September that an e-mail from ah should have hit my computer but of course it was off during my travels. She was telling me that she had the chance of going away but would come back in time for me if I would give her a time. Having received no reply she repeated with an urgent e-mail two days later and on getting no reply to that either she concluded that I had changed my mind and not bothered to tell her. I find that reasonable enough; people do behave like that and she doesn't know me.
Meanwhile on the day before I was due I left an answering machine message on ah's phone at about teatime and tried again at about 2200, saying I should be in Brussels at 1430 and go straight there.
Ah had of course gone away for her birthday weekend with her husband and did not get these messages.
I reached Midi station at exactly 1427 and struggled with the transport. Her e-mail had said get a tram 80 and get off at Horta.
I found the tram. She told me I could buy my ticket on the tram but the driver just pointed aggressively downwards and turfed me off the bus.
Someone explained that I had to go to the metro. I went to the metro which seemed as likely a way of getting to Horta as a moon rocket. No, no--what I needed was a number 80 tram. back I went and managed to get into a sort of Franglish conversation in which I learned that the ticket office was closed so I should get my ticket at the metro. I was just going off again when a number 80 appeared and a woman persuaded the driver to let me pay.
This all seemed to take hours but I was actually at the house at 1500. There were three bells, all apparently having a possible connection with ah. Let it be not said that I did not try. I am surprised nobody roped me in for a carrilon school!
I met the next door neighbour who was sure ah would return but could offer no help on what to do if she did not! I waited until 1700, thus losing my chance to go to the Horta Museum which is only open in the afternoon.
I will not go into the nightmare of my search for somewhere to stay. Eventually I arrived shattered at the Hotel Ascot.