We're staying the night at Broekenstraat just west of Nieppe where my grandfather's active participation in the war came to an end and his 8 months as a prisoner-of-war began. The area is dotted with cemeteries, the dates of which tell the story of territory that exchanged hands more than once without either side gaining decisive advantage through it. The hills of Flanders make for a pleasant experience not least at this time of year with larks singing, yellow wagtail, swallows, partridges, lapwing seen, chiffchaffs calling, blackcaps in full song etc., a fabulous bluebell wood on the slopes of Mont Kemmel.
It's fascinating also to be staying 700 meters inside Belgium, a country we haven't stopped in before. I'm ready to use my French, but no-one seems to speak it even though - or precisely because - France is so close. German is equally unused, but many people seem to have a fair amount of English as the foreign language of choice. Still don't really see how a country can be said to have borders if it isn't surrounded by sea or some other major barrier.
Our B&B hosts are the same age as us, already retired and developing interests in music, puppets and story-telling. Quite a bit of this seemed to come from a regional, provincial pride. They kitted us out with a map and info that lead us, as it turned out, to a very acceptable omelette and salad in Kemmel in a fairly basic bar where in her turn the landlady kitted us out with stuff relating to the Flanders fields, especially in relation to the 1914 anniversary. So many impressions...
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