All the Fun of the Fair

After a few fun-filled days in the UK catching up with friends and soaking up some warm sunshine Mr T and I headed into the Grote Markt late on Saturday afternoon and discovered the fair has come to town.

It seems an incongruous setting – back home these things would be situated in a local park or an area of greenery. Instead, the big wheel overlooks the medieval church and a giant octopus swirls its eight legs in the face of the old town hall. Makes me very glad we didn’t take a lease on a city centre apartment.

Apparently it’s here for the next week or so, in preparation for Kings Day which is the major event in the Dutch year. I’m looking forward to it. The shops are already full of orange attire (at least orange is actually fashionable this year). Apparently it’s the day when you can set up stall in the street and sell off your junk, and basically just a big excuse to party and get drunk. Sounds like great fun.

Back in the UK I’d had a hectic schedule. It wasn’t purely pleasure – I had a dental appointment, and an  MOT (on the car not me), plus I’d arranged to see a writing professional for a critique on my finally, or so I thought, completed novel (yes it’s very good but……)

I re-joined my old pub quiz team and enjoyed the success of being runner up – a feat that will just never happen here in Haarlem where the weekly quiz is taken far too seriously by the regular teams. The Dutch quiz-master has now quit – apparently he says there it takes up too much time, plus of course there is no fun in it anymore. I can’t blame him. I’d get fed up with people arguing over the answers with me every week too. It’s a bought-in quiz. He doesn’t set the questions. These people need to lighten up and take a holiday and let someone else win for a change. Like me and Mr T.

However, I was feeling a bit dull on Saturday afternoon. I’d had a good few days back in the UK and felt slightly deflated about returning to the Netherlands where the icy wind always blows and life just feels a bit lacking in purpose sometimes. However, as we strolled back to the house, Mr T with his arms full of tulips (we only wanted one bunch but the stall holder, who was just packing up insisted we take the whole bucketful) we passed the local craft beer bar, where one of our quiz rivals waved at us from the window and beckoned us to join him and his wife for an early evening drink.

So there we sat, Mr T with his craft beer and me with my glass of wine, exchanging jolly banter about the trials and tribulations of living amongst the Dutch with a very genial Irish couple, a bouquet of tulips resting on the table between us. It was a very pleasant 'homecoming' and to cap it all, the sun has been shining ever since.