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About Aalst

She’d swagger in, all dolled up, orderin’ a gin. “How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot,” I’d mutter, quotin’ the film, all posh-like. She’d roll her eyes, “Boris, you prat, gimme a drink!” Loved that sass, got me proper chuffed. But, cor blimey, some punters—absolute rotters—treated her like muck. Made me blood boil, it did. Once saw this toff, all la-di-da, hagglin’ her down to a fiver. A fiver! Wanted to clock him, I did. “Efface him from your mind,” I told her, all dramatic, like Joel in the movie. She just smirked, “He’s already gone, love.”

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Lesser-known fact: Check out Rue des Écoliers. It’s off the beaten path – tiny cafes there serve the best waffles and secret brews. Got myself into a heated debate over a waffle with a local – in true absurd, deadpan style – like, “You ever notice how waffles are like our feelings? Crispy outside, soft inside?” Eh, my brain was on fire, then the local just laughed weirdly. Classic Bertrix.

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