Other than Hercule Poirot and Josef Fritzl, can you name another 'famous' Belgian...?

I may, on the odd occasion, use a certain degree of artistic licence when writing these missives, especially if doing so late at night... but there isn't much point in trying to talk up the trip from Luxembourg to Bruges as it was pretty flat and uneventful. Only when, in an effort to get off the motorway for a bit, Pete lead us slightly more off the beaten track than intended (the farmyard was really nice to see as was the same village we happened to ride through three times, oh, and the industrial estate) did things perk up though after the farmyard epidsode we decided it was time for lunch and hotfooted it to Namur which is a citadel town on the Sambre river.

When we arrived in Bruges (or Brugge depending which of the locals you talk to) they had very kindly laid on a parade for us which closed off the centre of town. For what seemed like hours, floats depicting biblical scenes including a couple of real camels... well, they might have been llamas, and followers dressed in garb reminiscent of a joint Harry Potter and Startrek convention wandered past. We're not entirely sure what relevance these scenes were to us and it is slightly possible we misread that the whole gig was for our benefit. However, we were overcome that the Bruggers had gone to such trouble to make us feel welcome especially as, to be honest, and like the next man, if someone asks you to describe Belgium you'd naturally say 'boring'. I think providing a fun fair on the market place directly outside our hotel was perhaps over-egging the pudding and that perhaps they know that Belgium really is boring so were trying a little too hard to convince us otherwise. Even so we spent a pleasant evening there and, not wishing to be outdone by a bunch of kids, we took up the challenge to go on one of the fair rides which seemed to have more in common with NASA astronaut training than 'as much fun as you can have for six euros'. Tony's 'ask him to stop it cos i want to get off' was a minor aberration in an otherwise unblemished display of manly daring. In fact, we liked it so much that a lesser number of us tried it again after a three course meal, two bottles of wine and some ice cream covered in advocaat. I am pleased to report that we avoided covering Bruges market place in sick from 150 feet up and it just goes to show the constitution of our assembled brethren.

Tomorrow, five of the smelliest, most worn out bikers you're ever likely to come across are heading for London...

We're not really smiling... we're petrified!