Tag Archives: Brussels

Who said what, who wanted this or that, who did what, or didn’t: the Confessions of a COVID government teleworker (2)

Posted on 20/06/2021 by writingbrussels

Though George liked to describe himself as “A non-avid user of social media”, as the weeks had gone by, he found the isolating nature of the lockdown had induced him into consulting, much more often than usual, his rarely-viewed Facebook … Continue reading →

It makes you wonder what is going on behind the scenes: Confessions of a COVID government teleworker (1)

Posted on 19/06/2021 by markrowancropper

“This all reminds me of that film, back in the 70s, ‘Confessions of a Window cleaner’. Why, we could write a book together, only this would have to be called ‘Confessions of a COVID government teleworker’” hailed George, as he … Continue reading →

Posted in Mark, Observing Brussels, The Corona Bar Stories | Tagged Brussels | Leave a comment

Hotel Europa (1)

Posted on 10/07/2016 by writingbrussels

El nuevo año comenzó en la oficina igual que había terminado, con innumerables horas de trabajo. Gracias al esfuerzo, los dosieres que me habían asignado pronto tuvieron sentido. Aprendí de memoria la estructura de las empresas, sus historias públicas y … Continue reading →

Posted in Eva, Observing Brussels | Tagged Brussels, dossiers, Hotel, lava, memories | Leave a comment

The Singer of Les Marolles

Posted on 02/07/2016 by writingbrussels

Marching carefully so that I don´t step on an item somebody wants to trade for 5 euros or 50 cents: happy trash scattered all around the square doesn´t fascinate me anymore as it once did. Nevertheless, I drag my visitors to … Continue reading →

Posted in Katarina | Tagged Brussels, Marolles, memories, Slovak, Urban | Leave a comment

Fuse BD

Posted on 02/07/2016 by writingbrussels

I have just been thrown out of this club because I tried to hit Tintin in the face. He is such a smartarse. Always looking sly with his freshly washed face. He would surely be drinking a Diet Red Bull … Continue reading →