Strandpaviljoen Zuid

It's freezing cold as I lead a small train of cyclists - myself, with Billie Stormzy in his seat in front of me, my daughter, and a friend of hers - through Scheveningen to the southern dunes. We're not very fast and the girls are complaining about the cold and the time it is taking us to reach our destination. As we enter the dunes, Billie Stormzy starts to cry because his hands are so cold - he is holding a digital clock, a souvenir from a recent trip to IKEA that is now one of his most cherished possessions. More fun to him than many of his toys, he can stare endlessly at the small screen as it shows the passage of time, cheering whenever a minute has passed and the numbers change and calling out loud whatever number is visible now. I tell him to give the clock to me and to hid his hands in the sleeves of his winter coat, after which he is quiet again. 

Finally, we arrive at the road leading to the beach club where we're going to have breakfast today. The girl who is joining us today is doing so for the first time. She's a friend from school, very quiet and serious. None of us have had breakfast yet. School is closed today because of a 'study day' for the teachers, and it feels, my daughter says, very much like weekend. It does, indeed - the morning has moved at an incredible slow pace: Billie Stormzy only got out of bed at 9:00, much later than usual. When Rihanna Gaga, his big sister, finally decided to wake him up, she found him sitting in his bed, lazily lounging on his pillows, apparently not interested in getting up. After that they watched some cartoons. I was going to make banana pancakes for them, but discovered there were no bananas, so breakfast at the sea seemd like the best solution. Rihanna Gaga went to ask her friend whether she wanted to join us, and I dressed the little one in the meantime. 

Billie Stormzy wanted to know the colour of the beach club we were going to when I told him we were going for breakfast. It turns out Strandpaviljoen Zuid, which is where we have now arrived, is a bright kind of grey, with multicoloured parasols lining the terrace. Inside, it's very cozy. Zuid is not big, and the small beach club feels a bit organic because of the wooden arches that carry its ceilings - almost as being inside the rib cage of a large sea animal. The tables are made of dark wood, with comfy chairs around them, all with soft pillows. It's not too warm inside, but there are caskets with woolen blankets. The girls pick one each and wrap themselves up in them, immediately at home. There's dub music playing on the sound system, which is later replaced by hit music from the 1990s. 

I pick the set brakfast (€15,50) and the girls both take toasted banana bread (€6,50). Billie Stormzy wants egg, but that is not available, so he has a croque monsieur (4,50). When the waitress comes to take our order, the girls take a mango juice as well. Billie Stormzy wants and orange juice, and his big sister - caring as always - reminds me that I forget to order it for him, but I tell her it's included in the breakfast. When the drinks arrive, Billie Stormzy is more interested in his sister's bottle of mango juice, so I order another one for her. 

It is surprisingly busy for a weekday - the beach clubs at the southern beaches seem to be drawing patrons at any given time: people taking a rest from walking their dogs, folk that look as if they're spending their entire day here, reading books and magazines and writing in small notebooks, and groups of youg people chatting. Billie Stormzy has made himself comfortable on my lap and puts his head on my chest. He is in a very cuddly mood, happy and content. When the food is brought, he ignores his croque monsieur in favour of the fritatta that is included in my breakfast, served in a tiny, hot frying pan. He and his sister eat about half of the fritatta, while I have the rest together with chunks of the french bread that is also included in the breakfast. I have to be careful. Yesterday, my front tooth was removed - the end of a sad story that started about forty years ago when a boy a few years older than me kicked me because I was messing with his bicycle. My tooth died off, but after a nasty root canal treatment it could stay. A few years back it was discovered that there was a large infection at the root of the tooth, and a increasingly drastic attempts to treat it all failed. Now, I have a temporary dummy to replace the extracted tooth and I have to be careful I don't break it. Biting in a tough, crusty piece of French bread would proably be too much strain for it. 

Of course, having one's front tooth extracted comes with a certain amount of pain, too and my mind is a bit foggy. I'm enjoying myself though. The girls are eating their impressive pieces of banana bread, which is served with ricotta creamed cheese and fresh blueberries. My breakfast is quite massive too. Apart from the fritatta and French bread, there's a large croissant - of which Billie Stormzy also has quite a bit after I've put jam on it - slices of cheese, very nice salty butter, and a bowl of yoghurt with granola, dried fruits, blueberries and two chunks of passion fruit in it. It's good value for money, as it comes with coffee or tea besides orange juice - I've taken tea, a good English blend. 

The girls talk about the sponsor run they did at school last Monday to collect money for Ukrainian refugees. My daughter is complaining she fell and hurt her knees - which also meant she didn't run more than two rounds, but the strange thing about this sponsor run was that they were sponsored by set amounts of money, so the effort they put into it was of no consequence anyway. I'm not sure how aware they are of the gravity of the current war. It is making me very anxious. There is the feeling of stumbling from one crisis into the other, as Russia's unprovoked invasion of the Ukrain came straight after what seems to more or less count as 'the end of the pandemic': there are still enormous amounts of people catching the corona virus, but the strain on the hospitals has diminished because the current variety is not so dangerous anymore and probably the vaccins are contributing to that as well. Rihanna Gaga had her own second jab last Saturday, but she is one of the few kids who are getting vaccinated as people don't seem to feel the threat of the pandemic very strongly anymore.  

Billie Stormzy has gone for a walk. He checks the door to the terrace, which I tell him to keep shut. He walks around the table for a bit, as I finish my breakfast, then suddenly pops up to the left of me with a big smile. "Where's that room, that little room," he inquires. Then, he says: "What did I do?" I realise he means the toilet and that he needs a nappy change, so I pick up the backpack that contains all the necessary material and take him to the restrooms. I count myself lucky: I often forget to take that backpack, and often there is no changing station in beachclubs - there is one at Zuid, although it is at the level of my knees, which isn't the easiest height to change a toddler at. 

When we return, there's only my tea left to finish. The girls have been unable to eat their entire portion of banana bread, but they very much liked it. Once we're all done, I go to the counter to pay. As per usual, Billie Stormzy is the one yielding the card, to the amusement of the waitress. When we leave, he insists on being the one to open the door, but he lacks the strength so we spend a while in front of it because he won't let anyone else do it. Finally, his sister manages to sneakily give the door a push without the little one noticing it. As we walk back to the bikes, the girls debate the possibility that the wind has turned - given that we had the wind in our backs on our way here, it looks like cycling back is going to be a bit of a challenge.

Also on Breakfast at the Beach: Jump back in time to when I visited this place with Rihanna Gaga in 2017