Beware of Heathen’s swinging a Canon and swigging gin

I could be sorely tempted to stay in and around Ypres as it’s so charming. Sadly (not really) I have a date with 3 blokes who mean the world to me – Paul Banks, Daniel Kessler and Sam Fogarino, better known to a select few as Interpol, so we can’t linger when there’s 7 weeks and 788 miles between me and them. See now you’ve seen the picture you know who I’m talking about don’t you !


On my last full day in this quaint little town I decided to cast off my Heathen robes and visit the Cathedral and St Georges Church. It was shortly before lunchtime when I paid my 50 cents and entered St Michael’s. I’m not in any way religious as I usually proclaim it to be the root of all that is evil but I do like religious buildings mainly for the architecture, stained glass windows and the peace and quiet you find there. I was happily wandering around taking photos, reading up on the artifacts when I heard a bell ringing. I didn’t think anything of it and was stood snapping away when a very irate voice started shouting at me in Dutch and there was this woman waving me towards the door. I  can only assume they shut up shop at 12 or maybe she thought I was the devil? It’s the 666 tattooed on my head – gets them everytime.

Stained glass window

Confession cubicle - you won't get me in there !

Crossing the road I entered St Georges church. Built in 1927 as a memorial  to the troops who fought and died in WWI this was more my cup of tea. It’s not the most spectacular building from the outside and inside the smell brings back childhood memories of village church halls but the walls are covered in brass plaques placed in memory of different regiments and soldiers. The wooden chairs each had an embroidered ‘kneeler’ on them which have been hand sewn to depict a different regiment.

Tapestry kneelers

This was more than worth the 20 cents requested donation so I left all of my small change seeing as they were kind enough to not evict me and it was one of those places that made me proud to be British.

On a lighter note I do believe I have found lots of Blackthorn bushes – that means Sloe’s ! Ahhh Sloe gin or vodka ready for the dreadful festive season. I’m turning into a keen forager now having picked blackberries and noticing that the campsite has a pear tree with some windfalls – that’s the crumble taken care of. I will be taking the dogs for a covert walk with a small bag to pick me some of them there berries.


About travellingninjas3

Scarlet haired veggie/coeliac/tattooed/charity shop loving rebel sold everything to take to the road with 3 Yorkies in a campervan to discover the meaning of life & blog about it. It all went well for 18 months but then a flippin bloke walked into my life and turned it upside down so now the travelling has come to a halt but I still live in the van but in a field - marvellous :o)
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