All has changed since Amsterdam. This morning it rained. It really, really rained. My, how it rained. The 100 degree woman's ark would have come in handy. The trams were like barges on the flooded streets; even the canals were drier. And the wet kept falling like heavy electricity on our heads. I was drenched just crossing the road from the tram to the station (unfortunately Mac in a Sac couldn't take the rucksack). But I got there with an hour to spare.

The rain accompanied me to Brussels. Behind me a girl began throwing up soon out of Amsterdam and continued to do so for quite a while. It sounded like rain spilling from a drainpipe interspersed with coughing.Goodness knows where it went. I presume it went into the bin beside the seat. If so the lid kept it contained for the most part, though occasionally the glorious stench wafted forward. Not really conducive to consuming orange juice and waffle (a waffle filled with sugar like hailstones). I began sympathising with her, but ended up loathing her.

The train from Brussels to Paris was a bit more stylish, but with less room. I dozed most of the journey. When I arrived I walked the 2km or so to the hotel in very hot weather (no rain here!), so I may be able to manage the monster after all.

I have begun reading Thomas Pynchon's, "Gravity's Rainbow". It starts off seeming like some Third World War account of nuclear armageddon, but it's actually set at the end of the Second World War. Curiouser and curiouser.