‘No, indeed.’
‘She was also saying how no more houseboats are allowed on this stretch, but I remember you telling me that too.’
‘Yeah, that’s why I was so impulsive, but I have zero regrets.’
The host asks if we’d like more pancakes, and Debbie and I look at each other knowing that we really shouldn’t but we can’t possibly refuse. After all, I didn’t choose a cruise that offers unlimited goodies for nothing.
‘Oh, go on then. I’ll just have the squirty cream and the chocolate drops this time,’ says Debbie.
‘I’ll have the Nutella again, please.’
The hour-long cruise flies by and soon we are full of pancakes and prosecco. The cruise was worth every penny.
‘So, where do you fancy going next? Would you like to visit the Van Gogh Museum?’ I ask.
‘I’d love to. What a treat of a day I’m having.’
As usual, we walk arm in arm as we find our way to the museum. It’s not somewhere I have been to before, not even the last time I was here. So, today’s experiences are new for me too.
The museum building is more modern than the older parts of town that we perused around the canal. Its large glass structure at the entrance is part of a new wing that has been added on in recent years. Inside, however, is an immersive experience that is full of history. Both Debbie and I gasp at the beauty of the bright yellowSunflowerspainting, while the blue and pink 1890Almond Blossomis incredibly beautiful.The Potato Eaters, with their bony hands, has the most amazing detail. Every painting has its own merits, and we are both mesmerised by their beauty.
‘We’ve been truly spoilt. I mean, Rembrandt, Van Gogh – I just can’t believe the culture here,’ says Debbie.
Yet again I feel immensely proud that this is the city I live in. Surely there aren’t many places that has everything Amsterdam offers and comes with such a great lifestyle. It doesn’t even feel like city life here. I haven’t seen anyone stressed out since I’ve arrived, for a start.
When we finish at the museum, I ask Debbie what she would like to do next. We could go to an Eighties roller-skating place, a walk in the park, shopping; I don’t know where to start with the choices we have.
‘Right then, it’s up to you where you fancy going next. Is there anything else you’d like to do before we spend tomorrow planning the party?’ I ask Debbie.
‘I wouldn’t mind doing a bit of shopping. I might even pop into one of the lovely lingerie shops we passed now that Nigel is behaving. I’ll miss being with you, but it’ll be nice to get back to him now.’
How Debbie has changed her tune. I am so relieved things have calmed down for them.
As we head back to the main shops of Dam Square, we pass a flea market. Debbie is fascinated by the juxtaposition of the antiques with the newer items. She roots around the stalls excitedly, although she only manages to find a couple of bits to take home.
‘You know, there’s this fabulous Sunday market here. I went when I first arrived. There were stalls selling all sorts of crafts. Once my Dutch gets a little better, I was thinking of enquiring about a stall.’
‘That’s a fabulous idea. I still wear that gorgeous jumper you knitted for me last Christmas, and the felting is going so well for you too. You should get your crafts out there. I’m so proud of you. You know, I almost feel as though this was your destiny. Does that sound weird? If things had stayed the same, you’d still be at home. Look at the adventure you’re having. It’s brilliant. You seem more alive than I ever remember you being before.’
‘Thanks. Yeah, you’re right. Maybe that’s why I married an Aussie. I was never going to settle with one of the boys from school who’d not left the village. I was always drawn to adventure and travel. Hannah is a chip off the old block.’
‘Well, you made the right choice, even if you both went your separate ways.’
‘Yeah. I did. I have no regrets. I know it meant that Hannah moved to the other side of the world, but I’m glad for her. We all need to live the life that’s best for us. She has found hers, and I think I have found mine.’
Debbie gives me a hug before we head into a lingerie store where the conversation lightens.
‘Oh, my goodness, can you imagine Nigel’s face if I bought that?’ says Debbie, looking at a mannequin wearing a black corset and carrying a riding whip. ‘I think he’d probably have a heart attack. Or let me have my own way about the conservatory.’
‘Well, you never know. It might be worth buying if that’s the case.’
As always when we are together, we laugh and chat while we browse around the shop. After a good look round, it surprises me that Debbie leaves with only a pair of French knickers.
‘Don’t want him getting too excited.’ She laughs.
It’s already getting dark by the time we leave the store and stop for a drink at a bar in the Red Light District before heading home. This is the only chance we will get since tomorrow we will be entertaining. I still have no idea who will be joining us, so I’m hoping I will have enough food and drink.
The atmosphere in the Red Light District in the evening is different to when I have passed the area in the day. The red lights above some of the windows are like a beacon in the darkness. As ever, it is bustling with people from tourists to locals, men on their own and couples holding hands. I glance over at the guys who stare into the windows, curious but afraid to go in. When you’re in De Wallen, sitting outside a bar under a patio heater is like an interesting social experiment. There are all walks of life down here.
