The first month
It was sunny. It was new. It still looked like an oppressive dungeon surrounded by poisonous factories but it didn't feel uncomfortable, like France can. And the people, albeit subject to the worst unemployment and poverty in the land, were nonetheless friendly enough. I would go out to Brussels a lot, being just down the road. My French was awful, I felt like Manuel out of Fawlty Towers. But it weren't so bad. I discovered all the said nightspots (see the commentary). I would still be going out with my two friends Monsieur Rock and Madame Roll.
The Long Cold Lonely Winter
The rains soon drowned any hope of a good time. Being the only Anglophone in town,
I tried to mingle but found without my mother tongue I had lost my greatest asset - my
crap Noel Edmondsesque sense of humour. Telling jokes in French to impatient
revellers takes about seven years to do, for me, so I gave up. The place was getting
me down too, going to the same places for ever, getting drenched on a regular basis,
never having warm water at the Vigie. I moved out, to a studio, but stayed only one
night. I woke up and realised what I had up to then overlooked - the place had no
windows. Hot shower? Yes. Windows? 95 or 3.0? Bugger. Going home for Christmas
on the 24th was well looked forward to. Coming back, January just made it worse. I
travelled extensively about Belgium, and popped over to Germany, but it didn't do
much good. I found an affinity with Charleroi in that the whole country kicks it and
laughs at it, its reputation being, well, if it was in the Eurovision song contest, it would
be a regular for the Nul Points category. But the affinity didn't last long, because I
hated the place. Getting fined on the tram after coming back from London one day
was the final straw - then they let me off, and the sun came out...
Spring is Sprung, Summer is a-coming in
I went home for Easter, and then on my return it got hot. And the tiny Parc Reine
Astrid suddenly opened itself up as a place of going out. Where before it was simply a
mud hole in which muggers hung out in Kappa tops with their young girlfriends who
look like they have shares in Estée Lauder, it suddenly became a place where one
could pleasantly sit beneath a tree and read away for hours. Life became good. After I
bumped into Kevin Keegan, and the Irish pub opened up, Charleroi began slowly to lift
its head from the ditch. The sun revealed architecture you never knew was there. And
the council began to clear up the Charleroi Footprints - you know what that is. All in
preparation for Euro 2000, the football tournament that will put this town on the map.
They think it`s all over...it hasn`t even started
And now, Euro 2000 will soon begin. Charleroi and it's stade have not been out of the
English newspapers, this 'sleepy Belgian town, population 50,000' as the Mirror puts
it. I mean, try sleeping HERE!!! It's the third biggest 'town' in the country, Piers, and
what about the other 300,000 who live here, hmmm?
England vs Germany will be the real test. Charleroi, the violence capital; if it passes
with flying neutral colours, then the transformation will be complete, and it will be the
Euro town it has dreamed of becoming since the Collapse of the industries. I've seen
the change here. I'll be happy for it to continue.
So you see, this year has not been too bad, for either of us. I'll See You On The Other
Side.
June 2000
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