Noises in the night

There were dreadful noises in the night. I think from the apartment directly over ours. Between 2 and 4am, bashing, thumping, dragging noises. It sounded like someone was being beaten up, or worse.

Gang rape? Murder? Truly awful.

I didn't wake Andrew as there was no point two of us being awake...

I crept out onto the landing outside to see if I could learn anything.

I was - frankly - too scared to go knocking on doors.

Each time it quietened down I drifted into sleep, but it started up again.

What could it have been? A gymnastics class? Furniture removals?

I have no idea. I will tell the landlord if/when we see him... This building (and the apartment) is at the basic level of comfort and provision, and I guess the other apartments are basic (cheap) too.  It's clean, I suppose, and has the absolute essentials, but it's closer to trouble or necessity than I would like but we chose it because it's not too far from the station, and it was available for the three nights we needed.  Also, of course, much cheaper than a hotel when you can make your own meals if you want to.

This trip has had the unexpected theme of 'poverty' - homelessness, beggary, foreign-ness, all dark subjects, and uncomfortable. It's been a strong contrast with the happy-lucky-careless state of mind which comes with going on holiday, being a tourist, travelling in comfort.   We've had a concentrated slice of the truth of our times. People are on the move but not finding welcome. The politics is laden with anxiety and inconclusiveness. The neighbourhoods are changing. Does planting trees prevent terrorism? I will look forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight. We've had some marvellous experiences while we've been away...

As for Brussels and the British love-affair with it... I keep thinking of how Charlotte Brontë came here, and how the architecture and the manners are so similar. Whole districts of the city are very very like patches of London - Great Portland Street, Wells Street, that area especially. I meant to mention the amazing bin-men yesterday... the lorry going along slowly, and two hefty young men throwing huge plastic bags stuffed with rubbish into the back as fast as they could, with another supervising and of course the driver - a gang of 4 clearing the streets at a fantastic pace.  These bags were all outside the dress shops, packaging I suppose.  Our walk back to the flat yesterday was through this district of fashion wholesalers, the cafes populated by dozens and dozens and dozens of men - Turks, Moroccans? No women in sight apart from one cafe where we stopped for a cup of mint tea, and in a couple of local supermarkets (which do not sell alcohol), and where most of the shoppers were men. A very different culture from how it must have been 40 years ago...  and this explains why I did nothing when these noises woke me in the night. I have no idea who lives above this flat, or what language they speak. I just hope whoever was on the receiving end of the fight is ok.