Brooklyn

Brooklyn is still empty when we enter. Billie Stormzy was asleep by the time we left home, but the wind and rain have left him wide awake and cheerful. I sit down on a couch with a view on the boulevard, beach and sea and we chat a little before the waitress comes and takes our order.

I notice that Brooklyn is basically one space together with the Big Bell. The waitress confirms this and tells me that these places share the same owner and when there's life music on the stage in the Big Bell, the customers of Brooklyn can enjoy it too. The two places do have, however, separate cards and I notice that Brooklyn indeed comes with different breakfast possibilities.

Judging from the menu, the breakfast here is smaller than at most places. I don't really mind, since those huge, stuffy breakfasts tend to be mostly much of muchness. Brooklyn keeps things more modest, with a fried egg, some bread rolls, toast, cheese and ham (€6,95).

Billie Stormzy and I enjoy the music - an interesting series of life performances, of which at first I think it's one concert, but then I notice it's different artists playing light Jazz standards and pop and rock songs in a jazzy way. That includes an upbeat, swing version of Leonard Cohen's song "Dance Me to the End of Love". I've never understood how people can think of that song as a romantic love number - I cannot but interpret its lyrics as a moody contemplation of the destructive passing of time. If it were indeed a love song, it would be a song about a relationship that's reached its end, a worn down lover entreating his loved one to one last dance before love has completely finished, remembering the passion and beauty of a night, a year, a life spent together - but definitely remembering it as a thing that no longer truly binds them. It's not a love song, however, as Cohen himself has noticed: it's about Auschwitz. But even leaving that aside - and Cohen has admitted, too, that the language of the song "is the same language that we use for surrender to the beloved" - I still don't get why, for instance, people like to play this song at their wedding. Why on earth would you want to be reminded of  "the end of love" at your wedding? In fact, what is romantic about "the end of love" and why would you turn it into a cheery, jazzy song sung by a smokey voiced lady? To me, it's jarring.

Billie Stormzy has no complaint. He bops to the music contentedly and continuously tries to grab stuff from the table. I've put him on my lap and hold him by the hips, so he can turn and bend whichever way he pleases. I've just been taught that this is not dangerous, but actually a great way to teach him how to sit upright. This morning a physiotherapist who regularly checks on Billie Stormzy's development visited us. We were referred to her after it was determined that he tended to only turn his face to the right - and almost exclusively slept like that as well, leading to a slight deformation of his head and the risk of a lopsided development of the shoulders. The physiotherapist helps is to remedy this and it's going really well. One thing he has to do now, is to develop a strong back and we can stimulate this by not supporting him too much when he sits up.

When breakfast is brought, it's nothing special, but of good quality. It's actually really nice that there is a place along the boulevard where a slightly lighter breakfast is served. Brooklyn mainly presents itself as a steakhouse and the interior matches this: lots of untreated wood, brown leather chairs and other elements that give the place a 'tough' (the idea is probably 'masculine', because, apparently, steaks are a masculine dish) look and feel. By now, a few more patrons have arrived, but this early int he morning Brooklyn is also a quieter alternative to next door's Big Bell. Together with its lighter breakfast, I would say that definitely earns this boulevard side restaurant - one of so many - its place in the sun.