Things to do...

... when all your work has been cancelled due to the ash cloud.

- First up, know your enemy. Learn to pronounce its name. That's 'Eyjafjallajokull'. Tip: Icelanders pronounce 'll' as 'tl'. I know, it seems odd. But the French pronounce 'll' as 'y' (sometimes - I've never quite worked out when). Not so weird now, right?
Alternatively, laugh at other people trying to pronounce it:
(see, I told you Icelandic would be useful!)

- Lose track of time (the clocks going back has really thrown me: how can the sun still be shining at 8pm?) Take your watch off. Read a book. Forget to go to bed. Turn the alarm off and roll over. Set your email to  'out of office'. Be late. Sit on the Grand Place and watch the stranded tourists. What day is it again?

- Practice your Polish: altogether now: 'Poproszę trzy razy Zywiec z sokiem imbirowym. Dziękuję bardzo'. Was that so hard?

- Forget to do basic household tasks. Ignore that ironing pile. Who needs clean socks anyway? The sun is shining (through the ash)! There are terraces to sit on! What are you still doing here?!

- Brave the Belgian pharmacy. Somehow, there are three or four Belgian pharmacies on every street. I am not sure how they make a profit but I suspect heavy subsidisation. In any case, most of them have a tiny pharmacy counter at the back, and a cavernous front section packed with shelf upon shelf of expensive skincare products. What they are all for is a mystery to me. I am a relatively girly girl, but as far as I'm concerned, skincare consists of a decent cleanser, make-up remover, moisturiser and spot cream. It was going to buy this last that led to my downfall.
I went to a pharmacy I've visited before, one where there is a bustling, overtly-discreet middle-aged lady behind the counter. The type who revels in embarrassing problems. Go in for pre-holiday Immodium and she practically rubs her hands with glee.
- I need something for blemishes please. I said, hoping for something strong and medical.
Mme Pharmacist puffed out her chest in delight... 'I have just the thing....' she said in a loud stage whisper, and bustled out to the front of the pharmacy, towards all the expensive beauty products, before I could stop her.
- This is the best cream. And you must get this as well. And you'll need this for the daytime, this lotion for the night... If you get two products you'll get five euros off now and then they'll send you a third free, so I recommend you get this, this and this and then order this one...
I was overwhelmed. I let myself be carried along by it all.
- And now I just need a second address, it can be anyone: your sister, your aunt...
- But my aunt lives in...
I gave in, wrote my UK address, paid and found myself standing on the pavement, almost out of breath, with a neat little paper bag full of Vichy face-potions.
It all happened so fast...

- Do your accounts. This involves a lot of long phonecalls to the Ministry of Finance, a lot of being passed around between different departments, a lot of 'Je vous entend tres mal!' and more than enough bad hold music. All before midday, which is when the Belgian Ministry of Finance closes. And they wonder why there's a constitutional crisis...

- Become a drunk. The prerogative of people in 'stressful' professions everywhere. And the only thing to do on a Wednesday night when you don't have to go in to work the next morning. I've noticed however that Belgium is the only place where I get disapproving looks for tottering home late at night on my own. I'm starting to get a little paranoid. Hmm, maybe I'll have a little gin and tonic to help with the stress. Make that a double...