‘Are you ready to see the shitbox of Belgium?’ The missus joked as we hit the escalator at the train station, the Liege horizon coming over the horizon. It’s no Ghent, it’s no Bruges, it’s not clean and if Amsterdam is an armpit, then Liege is the cockpit. Here is a scrapbook of pictures, of the few buildings that had no scaffolding.
It reminded me of a run down Peterborough. Peterborough has no identity, zero community – the sort of place that befits a cloudy day. Grey, grim, the ATM’s all out of order, the pigeons look gnarly, the barman doesn’t speak English, not even when you ask for the simplest request, ‘two beers please’.
