So far, today has been running like clockwork. The advantage of preparing everything already in the evening - school lunch for Billie Stormzy's big sister and her breakfast - is that everything basically runs by itself in the morning. She and I cycled to school today, because her mum could stay home and watch Billie Stormzy until I returned, and this afternoon she'll bring a fried. That's always great fun for Billie Stormzy, too, because he loves watching the big girls play.
She got her report last week - one of two she gets every year - and yesterday we dicussed it with her teacher. It was a good report - reading and writing slightly above average, mathematics slightly below - but as I guessed, the teacher confirmed that she's not yet reaching the level she has in her. Apparently, she spends a lot of time in class dreaming, and she's quite solitary. Not lonely, thankfully, but to herself enough. It was like hearing a report on myself thirtyfive years ago. She also, unfortunately, has my terrible handwriting and my motorics.
Anyway, this morning, after returning home to give Billie Stormzy a bottle of milk, we're now on our way - not to the boulevard, but after passing the Kurhaus, to the Scheveningen shopping mall, home of rather obscure shops alongside some evergreens such as the Hema and Ako. There's a lot of tacky clothing shops, and quite a few shops are empty, too. Some dodgy characters are lounging on one of the couches spread out throuhg the shopping mall, having taken the plugs of some playing machines for kids out of their sockets and plugged in their telephones' battery chargers. It's half pas nine and shops are opening.
In one corner of this shopping mall, there's Brasserie Palace. The first thing that strikes you as you enter is the almost pornographic artwork of a naked lady lounging on the wall. It fits ill with the black and white pictures of Scheveningen of around a hundred years ago - bathers in victorian settings alongside Scheveningen fishermen and their wives in their traditional costumes - but has its place in the otherwise typical Dutch grand café setting (large vases, brown and beige furntiture, golden finishings). The best thing about this place, however, is the view. Looking out over the roof of the Big Bell, Palace has a splendid view over beach and sea, unhindered by the going-ons of the boulevard.
I steer Billie Stormzy's stroller - we got rid of the pram, as he's almost too big for it and he prefers to sit and look around him anyway - to a small table and sit down. Palace has a set breakfast for €10 that offers the usual stuff (bread rolls, fried egg, cheese, ham and sweet spreads). Since it also comes with tea and fresh orange juice, I'd say that it's a good deal. I decide not to take the option of adding smoked salmon and avocado, since I am not fond of raw salmon anyway and eating avocado, apparently, is really bad for the environment. The tea and orange juice are brought to our table right away.
I place Billie Stormzy on my lap and we laugh and play a bit together. I'd forgot to bring a toy, but he's just as happy with the plastic wrapping for my teabag. Both Billie Stormzy and me have a cold - and probably the flu, too. I feel quite miserable, with all my joints aching and a slight headache. Billie Stormzy is snivelling and coughing all the time, yet remains cheerful and interested in the world around him.
It's unexpectedly busy for this time in the morning. And as I sit and wait for the rest of my breakfast to arrive, it only gets busier. The soundsystem plays a jarring mix of eighties pop songs and jazz standards and I enjoy the view. Judging from the Sealife flags just outside the Palace, it's really windy right now. I notice the windows can't open, probably not making this the best of places in summer. For now, however, it seems alright.
However, what's not so alright is the time I spend waiting for my breakfast. Half an hour has gone by already, and I notice that people who arrived after me are receiving their breakfasts. I try to raise the issue with the waitress who originally took my order, and now walks by with a breakfast to a group of people who just came in and had their order taken. I only manage to utter the first half of my sentence: "I also ordered a breakfast..."
She interrupts me, before I can add that I noticed people who came after me already got their breakfast, and tells me it'll arrive soon. Soon is, apparently, longer than another ten minutes and I walk to the bar.
"I'm sorry," I say, "but I see other people who came in later receiving their orders while I'm still waiting."
"Indeed, my colleague was just going to come to you and say that your receipt apparently got lost. It'll arrive as soon as possible," another waitress tells me. Her male colleague adds, "I'll be with you in a minute. I'm rather annoyed by the fact that the only one who said the word "sorry" during this conversation was me, but I sit down again. Billie Stormzy is also losing patience and getting a bit rowdy. The plastic teabag-wrapping continues to fascinate, but he regularly drops it on the ground after which he starts whining.
Finally breakfast arrives, served on a platter tower, and with it, apologies do too. With Billie Stormzy in a bit of a rowdy mood, I eat quickly. The food is nothing special - mostly the same fare you can also get alongside the boulevard downstairs. Some filet american and other cold meat set it slightly apart, it has to be said, and considering what €10 gets you it is good value for money - but not worth the long wait, really. Having finished the breakfast, I pay and we leave.
She got her report last week - one of two she gets every year - and yesterday we dicussed it with her teacher. It was a good report - reading and writing slightly above average, mathematics slightly below - but as I guessed, the teacher confirmed that she's not yet reaching the level she has in her. Apparently, she spends a lot of time in class dreaming, and she's quite solitary. Not lonely, thankfully, but to herself enough. It was like hearing a report on myself thirtyfive years ago. She also, unfortunately, has my terrible handwriting and my motorics.
Anyway, this morning, after returning home to give Billie Stormzy a bottle of milk, we're now on our way - not to the boulevard, but after passing the Kurhaus, to the Scheveningen shopping mall, home of rather obscure shops alongside some evergreens such as the Hema and Ako. There's a lot of tacky clothing shops, and quite a few shops are empty, too. Some dodgy characters are lounging on one of the couches spread out throuhg the shopping mall, having taken the plugs of some playing machines for kids out of their sockets and plugged in their telephones' battery chargers. It's half pas nine and shops are opening.
In one corner of this shopping mall, there's Brasserie Palace. The first thing that strikes you as you enter is the almost pornographic artwork of a naked lady lounging on the wall. It fits ill with the black and white pictures of Scheveningen of around a hundred years ago - bathers in victorian settings alongside Scheveningen fishermen and their wives in their traditional costumes - but has its place in the otherwise typical Dutch grand cafĂ© setting (large vases, brown and beige furntiture, golden finishings). The best thing about this place, however, is the view. Looking out over the roof of the Big Bell, Palace has a splendid view over beach and sea, unhindered by the going-ons of the boulevard.I steer Billie Stormzy's stroller - we got rid of the pram, as he's almost too big for it and he prefers to sit and look around him anyway - to a small table and sit down. Palace has a set breakfast for €10 that offers the usual stuff (bread rolls, fried egg, cheese, ham and sweet spreads). Since it also comes with tea and fresh orange juice, I'd say that it's a good deal. I decide not to take the option of adding smoked salmon and avocado, since I am not fond of raw salmon anyway and eating avocado, apparently, is really bad for the environment. The tea and orange juice are brought to our table right away.
I place Billie Stormzy on my lap and we laugh and play a bit together. I'd forgot to bring a toy, but he's just as happy with the plastic wrapping for my teabag. Both Billie Stormzy and me have a cold - and probably the flu, too. I feel quite miserable, with all my joints aching and a slight headache. Billie Stormzy is snivelling and coughing all the time, yet remains cheerful and interested in the world around him.
It's unexpectedly busy for this time in the morning. And as I sit and wait for the rest of my breakfast to arrive, it only gets busier. The soundsystem plays a jarring mix of eighties pop songs and jazz standards and I enjoy the view. Judging from the Sealife flags just outside the Palace, it's really windy right now. I notice the windows can't open, probably not making this the best of places in summer. For now, however, it seems alright.
However, what's not so alright is the time I spend waiting for my breakfast. Half an hour has gone by already, and I notice that people who arrived after me are receiving their breakfasts. I try to raise the issue with the waitress who originally took my order, and now walks by with a breakfast to a group of people who just came in and had their order taken. I only manage to utter the first half of my sentence: "I also ordered a breakfast..."
She interrupts me, before I can add that I noticed people who came after me already got their breakfast, and tells me it'll arrive soon. Soon is, apparently, longer than another ten minutes and I walk to the bar.
"I'm sorry," I say, "but I see other people who came in later receiving their orders while I'm still waiting."
"Indeed, my colleague was just going to come to you and say that your receipt apparently got lost. It'll arrive as soon as possible," another waitress tells me. Her male colleague adds, "I'll be with you in a minute. I'm rather annoyed by the fact that the only one who said the word "sorry" during this conversation was me, but I sit down again. Billie Stormzy is also losing patience and getting a bit rowdy. The plastic teabag-wrapping continues to fascinate, but he regularly drops it on the ground after which he starts whining.
Finally breakfast arrives, served on a platter tower, and with it, apologies do too. With Billie Stormzy in a bit of a rowdy mood, I eat quickly. The food is nothing special - mostly the same fare you can also get alongside the boulevard downstairs. Some filet american and other cold meat set it slightly apart, it has to be said, and considering what €10 gets you it is good value for money - but not worth the long wait, really. Having finished the breakfast, I pay and we leave.
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