Getting sand in your shoes conjures up images of long walks on warm beaches, romantic sunsets and happy holiday memories. Not standing in a grey field claustrophobic under low cloud with a stiff breeze coming off the North Sea rattling in frequent showers that push wet into the back of the jeans and cold deep into the bones. I have damp sand in my shoes. I’m in Belgium. If there is any romance it smells of beer and embrocation.