I am sitting in front of my PC screen and behind this : a mirror, conveniently installed to look at your eyes getting tired, your skin turning dull. For the last 40 minutes I have been trying to get my wireless connection up and running, but finally had to give up - the reason probably being my lack of authorisation to change settings. So this text is going on dematerialised paper and on the internet when I get a chance to connect.

Day 235 of 2006 had a wonderful summer evening. I spent it in steadily growing joy, eating early and small mussels, writing cards to my family.

Tilburg is a nice town. It has agreeable architecture, a lively city centre and lots of young people are out on the street riding their bike, talking. Some of its citizens are sitting next to me on other tables at the Bistro Napoleon. Dutchmen. I overhear one explaining to an Englishman that he “can stay during the muziek still plays”. They are so gifted when it comes to languages. I wonder what the Dutch ever did to earn this illegitimate status of language geniuses, pay the bill and go to my room.

Before turning to my computer I was watching Tutto per Tutto on the RAI, since at home I don’t get to watch Italian television anymore after the cable company changed their programming. Tutto per Tutto is about choosing girls and boys out of a cupboard (real men and women holding envelopes) who all have a part of the key to hard cash fortune. If you guess who is holding the largest amount of money, you can order yourself a dream come true. I would have won The Brother – for that was what I imagined guessing for. And because there is no such thing as coincidence, I was cleaning out my purse on my hotel bed during the show and found … a business card of The Brother! Flashback. Shame and scandal – I see a 4th Duvel entering my digestive system. I see him handing over his card and me saying I don’t have one at hand. How is it possible that I did not remember this proof of mutual interest? Last weekend I text messaged L to get the phone number of his Brother, while all the while I had it in my purse! Alcohol has played another trick on me and I let it happen. Still I am glad to have his email for now I can send a love letter.

So now the RAI is playing something on I diritti degli Obesi – the rights of the obese. There is a large market for it in Italy, home of the anorexic. A little boy with breasts larger than mine ‘dives’ into the Mediterranean. A girl is saying that she still feels sexy. Wow, she’s belly dancing now. You go girl! I love Arabian music – this leads me to the growing joy of the day. I get to go to Fès on a luxury weekend paid by one of our suppliers. My favourite colleague Stéphane is joining me. We both have a weakness for whiskey. Pray to God I will remember my first weekend in Morocco.

In the meantime a new show has started on TV. A good-looking woman in her thirties is singing and dancing on Madonna’s (and Abba’s – let’s be fair) Hung up : “ringue, ringue, ringue I’m ung up, so ung up on yo-o”. Respect – to sing and dance like that I would mumble the words correctly but so out of breath. I'm ageing fast. And furiously.