I was having lunch the other day with a good friend of mine - Stella. We sat outside
on hippy-style benches, soaking up some good doses of sunshine while we engaged in
relentless chit-chat.
Last weekend, I had brunch in a relatively new café in The Hague. I’d been there
a number of times before and so thought I knew what to expect. We were served by
a friendly woman who took down our order of soup, a breakfast menu and a chicken
roll.
It is in the heart of Venice that we found ourselves, seated in an intimate chapel-like
building as ancient looking as the rest of Venice. The concert programmed was to
be predominantly Vivaldi strings with extras by Handel in the form of his “Ombra
Mai Fu” which I was particularly looking forward to hearing.
Picture it. A cafe-tearoom at 8:30 in the morning. Almost deserted, but for a small
group of people in a huddle. Their coats still on, pouring over steaming cups of
coffee, I am greeted by their morning faces. I sit with my back to them and order
my caffeine shot. I grab my note-pad and pen.
One afternoon I was shopping in the local Albert Hein, with my 5 year old son. He
was hell-bent on getting a trolley, as for him this would mean the chance to get
in it and lounge.
