
A most pleasant horse and carriage ride, in the Belgium sunshine, through the ancient cobbled streets of the mediaeval city of Bruges, trotting past quaint shop windows piled high with chocolates, ubiquitous waffle vendors, and pavement cafes bars and restaurants where a 1000 different Belgium beers are served.
We are accompanied by the multiple pealing of bells from a dozen or more chapels and churches, summoning the faithful and marking the hour, as we trot besides the canals, and explore the city’s mediaeval lanes and avenues.
I swear that the clip clop of the Flemish horses is in a different language to that of British or Irish horses. It’s a cliiper clooper sound, slightly Dutch, rather than the sharp clip clop we are more used to.
It may well be that the Flemish shoe their horses differently, looser perhaps; or it could be that the ancient cobbles are responsible for the cliipper cloopper sound.
Patricia thinks it is probably because I’ve sampled too much Belgium beer.
Anyway, here we are, cliipper cloopping through one of the most beautiful cities of Europe. Time to halt I think, time for another Belgium beer. Or two perhaps?
It couldn’t possibly be down to the beer!