Strandclub Blue Lagoon

It's early Wednesday morning when we arrive at the Scheveningen Boulevard, cycling past the group of fairy tale statues that guard one of the most busy parts of the boulevard. It's mid-September, but the weather has suddenly become very hot, so it feels more like summer. It's also was my birthday, two days ago - I'm 44, twice the same number, which is special because it only happens every 11 years. I park the bike next to the fence that separates the boulevard from the beach, pick up Billie Stormzy from his seat and walk down the stairs that lead to the terrace of Strandclub Blue Lagoon. 

We sit down at a coach facing the concrete strip along which people can walk past the beach clubs. There's a constant coming and going of people. Blue Lagoon certainly looks appealing. The beach club itself is a beautifually designed wooden structure, and the terrace is mostly in shades of wood and blue. Billie Stormzy is extremely cuddly today - he constantly puts his arms around me, giggling and trying to get me to tickle him, to which he responds with bursts of laughter. Unusually for him, he's got a pacifier in his mouth. This might have something to do with his teeth coming through: he's chewing a lot on his fingers or thumb these days, or anything else he can lay hands on. A pacifier is good for that too, and as much as sucking on it, he will also just chew or nibble on it. 

A small army of waiters and waitresses. professional and efficient, is busy serving the people at the terrace. One of them, a smooth looking young man, takes my order. Blue lagoon sports an extended breakfast menu. There's appealing dishes such as Avocado with poached egg or cranberry pancakes, as well as two set breakfasts: the "Breakfasts at Sea" offers the usual - a variety of breads, coverings and eggs - but there's also an "American Breakfast" that promises something different. I pick the latter (€13), as well as a tea.

Billie Stormzy has calmed down a bit and is lying next to, leaning on my side and watching the people walking by, while I sip my tea. The sun is very bright, so I put on my sun glasses. We both lazily bop our heads to the Prince song on the sound system - Controversy - which is followed by a stream of hits from the eighties and nineties. On the back of the menu there's a small history of the place, which goes back to 1978, when the Blue Lagoon first opened its doors. It's a fascinating account of successes and dissasters. In 1980, the place disappeared in the sea during a terrible storm, and there's mention of a 'music affair' that lead to the closure of the place and then to the temporal changing of its name to 'Palm Beach' (this bit raises more questions than it answers and I decide to ask my neighbour about this, since as a retired police officer he has good knowledge of these kind of things). There is heroics - apparently Blue Lagoon led the efforts to resulted in the beach clubs being allowed to stay open for two more months per year (for which I am grateful, then). And there was the notorious 2018 fire in which the Blue Lagoon burned to the ground.

Breakfast is served rather quickly. There's an Americal pancake (not plural, as the menu promised) with a generous pouring of ahorn syrup (which unfortunately has also spilled over to the fried egg). There's cheese and ham to put on the toast, and a small donut to finish everything off. As I said, it makes for a nice change from what is usually on offer around here, but it's not really special in any significant way. 

I eat my breakfast under the watchful eye of a large group of jackdaws that seems to have monopolised the Blue Lagoon - no other birds are there to be seen. Billie Stormzy has tired of chilling on the couch. He has little interest in the piece of toast I've given him and instead starts moving around the low table in front of the couch. He's still not able to walk, but getting there and holding on to the low table while stepping along its edges is good exercise. But then he's had enough of that as well and climbs down to the concrete strip where he crawls around for a bit. Every once in a while I get up to pick him up and bring him back to the couch.

A family - parents and grandparents - with a very young baby in a stroller walks by while Billie Stromzy is out on one of his walks. As I get up

to pick him up, I see the father looking at my adventurous son with an endeared smile. The mother, however, shoots me a look that seems to be meant to convey shock, annoy

ance and anger to me. The message is, I guess, that I'm not supposed to let my baby crawl around like that. I raise an eyebrow in response - and silently wish her little one will become the most unstoppably active baby that has ever crawled over the surface of the earth. 

It takes me a while to attract the attention of a waiter, and then it takes some more time before she arrives with the bill. I pay, and put Billie Stormzy on my shoulders, holding him by his wrists. I move his arms to the rythm of the music, to which he responds by moving his upper body enthusiastically. In this manner, we make our way to the exit, half walking, half dancing. 

Also on Breakfast at the Beach: Jump back in time to when Rihanna Gaga and I visited this place in 2014