It has been a noisy week in this part of the Netherlands. No, not another music festival, but thunderstorms, a historic grand prix, and a failing smoke detector battery – you know the thing, intermittent chirps in the middle of the night.
The cat is petrified of thunderstorms, and at the moment these are occurring on a daily basis. Ed has now taken up permanent residence in the walk-in wardrobe, selecting a perch as high up as he dares. He doesn’t like noise – the vacuum cleaner has always sent him running for cover, but he doesn’t mind heights. One of his favourite viewing platforms is on the six foot wall which divides our first floor balcony from next door’s. Last week he decided to leap off the balcony – he either slipped, or couldn’t be bothered to come back indoors and head down the stairs to get into the back yard. Fortunately he landed safely on the patio table. Needless to say he hasn’t tried that particular shortcut since.
With his fear of loud noises, Ed would have hated the historic grand prix at the Zandvoort race track. However, there were quite a few people who had taken their dogs along to enjoy the spectacle. These were probably the same people who had taken their dogs to the Amsterdam Sail event the previous week. If your dog likes to tour of vintage sailing ships, he’s bound to enjoy watching old motorbikes and Formula One cars whizzing round.
A surprising number of people had also taken their young children – many of whom were in tears. Yes, it was that noisy. I know it’s not cool but the ear-plugs were essential – that’s if I was going to hear anything for the rest of the week.
Like the bleeping smoke detector battery. I could have done without hearing that. Why do these things always go off in the middle of the night? It’s never day-time, and our ceilings are so high, it’s not simply a question of standing on a chair and removing the battery to get a decent night’s sleep. It had to be left to bleep. Not being blessed with the height advantage of native Dutchmen, our alarms can only be reached via a proper ladder – which lives in the garden shed.
So, with the roar of Formula One still ringing in my ears, an irritating intermittent bleep, and the continuous rumble of thunder, it is very tempting to join Ed in the darkest corner of the cupboard.
Can you spot the cat?
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