Summertime

 

 

The weather is dreary: a slight drizzle at the point of becoming pouring rain. We've cycled the two minutes or so from our house to the Scheveningen Boulevard, Billie Stormzy and I and now we're descending the stairs to Summertime. Normally, this is the kind of day you'd prefer to sit inside, but access to cafes and restaurants is still very restricted. Apart from the fact that they're only allowed to have guests between12:00 and 18:00, they also may only receive guests on their terraces. Luckily, Summertime has a few covered spots, and we pick a seat under a corrugated plastic roof. 

Billie Stormzy is tired. He woke up at 4:30 this night, and although he calmed down when I gave him his pacifier, he never went back to sleep again. Instead, he was intermittently quiet, babbling and crying until I got him out of his bed at 6:00. Then he was quiet for another hour as we lied together in my bed, until, at seven, it was time for breakfast. We're just the two of us. My partner and our daughter are
off for a weekend together. It's the may holidays, two weeks without school for our daughter. At the beginning, I went to Groningen with her where we made a long cycling toor and had a nice picknick - the lockdown was still ongoing then - in the Groningen countryside. After a few days, Billie Stormzy and my partner joined us. Now, it's our turn to stay home together. 

The toughest part of the past lockdown has been, as I've said before, working from home. I find it terribly difficult to concentrate, a prerequisite for my line of work. Having to do everything online has also led to a certain feeling of disengagement. Interaction with students is not easy and I hardly feel any connection. On top of that, we had to restructure our entire department following last year's shenanigans and it has been difficult to bring about a team spirit. I've been somewhat drifting around the house - working at the desk in our bedroom means I often sleep poorly at night, while working in the living room makes it even harder to concentrate. Meanwhile, students have been dropping out because of the toll that the lockdown has been having on their mental health, and tensions between colleagues occasionally run high because when everything is done in writing or via video meetings, arguments can easily spin out of control. 

Don't get me wrong - I don't think we're having it harder than anyone else, probably less so. But our world has certainly shrunk. As I've noted on this blog before, there is a lot of resistance to measures to prevent the spread of Covid-19. Action committees fight these measures through demonstrations and there is a worrying amount of false rumours and fake news going about: claims that these measures are deliberate steps towards establishing a fascist regime;  that Covid-19 really isn't as bad as the authorities claim it is; that the vaccines are meant to insert microchips in every citizen so that they can be tracked... Of course, there's always been people believing in the most outlandish conspiracy theories (and the ones I've mentioned here aren't even the weirdest ones), but it strikes me how widespread the belief in these strange tales is nowadays. Cars with bumper stickers claiming the 'mainstream media' are nothing but fake news;posters behind windows comparing the measures with the German occupation of the Netherlands during the second world war; small leaflets lying around proclaiming all sort of sinister complots involving world leaders; basically there is a constant choir in our lives, hysterically declaring nonsense. And I haven't even mentioned the internet, which I have effectively shut out by not going on social media anymore and through aggressive anti-tracking applications that make me a blank slate everytime I go online. Sometimes, it is not bad to create a little bubble to live in, as it certainly prevents a lot of anxiety as well. 

A friendly young waitres nervously tells me it's her first day when she doesn't know the answer to my question whether there are any smoothies on the menu (there aren't). I order an orange instead because that is another drink I could share with Billie Stormzy. I also take a pulled pork BBQ burger, and the waitress manages to persuade me to take French fries with that. 

We have a nice view over the beach and the sea beyond that from where we sat down. Summertime is striking in how not striking it is. If you'd want to phrase that negatively, you could say this place is decidedly average. There is nothing about this place that stands out (although that in itself is remarkable, located as it is next to Zanzibar with its over-the-top African decor). It's friendly wooden furniture and building, painted white with added elements in lime green such as pillows and wall decorations. There's a theme of leaves going on here: the pillows have leave patterns and the wall decorations in the main building are all of leaves and greenery. There's a nice collection of potted plants and flowers too, that give the place a decidedly fresh feel. The music is inobtrusive (so quiet one can barely hear it, but what I can make out is mostly mainstream hits). 

It's surprisingly busy, given the weather and the fact that it's not possible to sit inside. It's mostly families on holiday, from the look of it, and a few groups of friends. Billie Stormzy immediately sets off after the waitress has taken my order. Ignoring the rain, which has steadily increased, he walks down the pathway to the neigbouring beach club, Day to Day, stepping on the yellow line in the middle as if walking on a tightrope - he is surprisingly good at it, given that he's only one and a half. I've noticed how, in playgrounds, he's also quite capable of walking over beams or ropes. It's partly because he observes his big sister continuously and enjoys trying out what he sees her doing. The yellow line, that makes the pathway going by all the beachclubs look like a mini highway, is what you could call 'Covid Decoration' - meant to regulate where people walk so that they don't  get too close to each other. A small plastic screen separating my table from the one next to us is another example, although it is so small that one wonders whether it'd really be of any use in keeping the virus away.

I pick up Billie Stormzy and take him back to where I sat down. He remains on my lap, all curled up, his head on my chest and gazing out at the sand and the sea, as well as the people walking by. I notice how many have their facemasks under their chins. Different from some other countries, you don't have to wear your facemask whenever you go outside in the Netherlands, but you do whenever you enter a shop or other public place. I guess pulling them under your chin if you think you'll have to be in places in a short succession makes sense, although I prefer to just leave it on in such situations (e.g. when I have just taken the tain to Groningen, and will have to pick up my bicycle from the guarded bicycle parking, buy fruit at the super market, and then walk to my office on the third floor at my work - all places where you have to wear a facemask nowadays).

Billie Stormzy is stroking his two toys, his sheep and his duck, as he always does when he's tired - exactly like his sister used to do. They are indeed similar in many ways, also in their character: enthusiastic, smart, slightly devious, and strong-willed. The most striking difference, I think, is that his sister was much more interested in other people and children. At Billie Stormzy's age, she'd been trying to get the attention of the people around her and to get some interaction with the children too. He's just not that engaged with others. I guess you could say he's more self-contained, something that already struck me right the first time I saw him after being born: while his sister was uncannily alert straight after birth, her eyes awake and intense, his gaze seemed to be directed more inwardly, quietly pensive. Of course, with two kids it's inevitable to make these kind of comparisons. 

The food is brought. It's nice - the French fries are thick and salty, exactly how I like them - but I guess you could say it's also very much like the decor: middle of the road, even unassuming. I'm not going to comment on the price - if you dine at this stretch of the beach you have to accept that prices are going to be high, it comes with the location  - but I do feel the whole thing could have been slightly more elaborate. And yet, there is also nothing to complain about really. It's tasty enough, although the full, rich flavour one would expect of something called 'pulled pork' is missing here.

I have a flat white coffee, because I feel I'm getting tired - of course if Billie Stormzy was awake since 4:30 this morning, that means I also was and I'm starting to feel it. Billie Stormzy, however, has clearly been revived - although I'm not sure by what, because he didn't want to eat or drink anything. He's now running around at the terrace, first towards the boulevard. I call him, and he comes back, but only to run on to the beach. I finish my coffee and pay, then run after him before he gets too far away. I pick him up, put him on my shoulders and walk back to the bicycle. It's high time for his afternoon nap.

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