Orange

Some people are fool enough to spend the hottest part of a devilishly hot and humid day plodding through a brocante (flea market) that was easily 4 kilometres long. There were brocanteurs on both side of the street, and I'm guessing some of them will have suffered some form of heat exhaustion by day's end. That is, if all the beers they were drinking haven't pickled them first. Also, their skin will be blazing orange, same as these pots.

One lady was selling these old pots and pans. The orange ones are vintage Le Creuset and they were going for a few Euros each. Unfortunately, I already have more pots and pans than I know what to do with, so I resolutely ignored them as they winked at me. These enamelled cast iron pans are traditionally used for cooking moules (mussels), beloved by all Belgians, accompanied by frites. The idea is to do the cooking, or what I call the easy part, and have someone else do the washing up, because the large pots are bloody heavy.



Note:
My orange blip is in no way meant to take sides in the Holland-Spain final of the World Cup this evening. I'm so uninterested in sports events that I've only just worked out that Paul the Octopus is not the pet name of some phenomenally talented goalkeeper.