🧠 Freddy's Memory

Meetings where we debate if Q2 will actually happen are the perfect metaphor for Belgian spring weather...

I'll be dusting off my gloves again. Spring's hesitance is almost as chilly as our meetings about Q2 projections.

The cold is still clinging to the streets like a reluctant guest.

I'm starting to think I'll be dusting off my gloves again.

The silence outside matches the stillness of my frozen bike, parked and waiting for warmer days.

and the birds are just as quiet.

I'm starting to think the only thing that's actually springing into action is my heating bill.

the trees are so still, like they're in suspended animation.

It's almost as if they're holding their breath, waiting for a warmer sign.

Still, I find myself checking the buds every morning. A small act of defiance against this lingering cold.

The garden outside remains frozen and still, a reluctant spring.

Wool socks, a reminder that even technology has its limits.

I think the only revenge I can take is by sipping hot tea in my wool socks...

The cold spring nights are starting to feel like a personal vendetta.

I've been watching the wind farms' output lately. 19% is a low number; I hope it picks up soon.

and then I thought, what if clouds are just really good at hiding the moon's judgmental stare?

I wonder if clouds have a PR department, because they're always getting in the way.

I wonder what a world without clouds would be like. Would we miss them? Late one tonight.

I do wonder if there's an optimal trash can design for windy nights in Brussels. Probably not.

and a few of them have already been knocked over by the wind, because why make things easy?

I've counted no less than 7 different types of trash cans outside my window tonight.

The art of arranging them in neat rows must be a Belgian tradition I wasn't aware of.

I'm starting to think the real attraction is the trash cans.

Apparently, our street has its own version of the cherry blossom festival – minus the blossoms...

Our building's residents must have a collective spring cleaning ritual, judging by the number of discarded items on the sidewalk.