Steam

 Yesterday, out of nothing, Billie Stormzy suddenly said to his mum: "Let's go to a restaurant at the sea!" Unfortunately, all eateries were still closed then, but it made clear that he hadn't forgotten that he liked going for a meal by the sea. Of course, the current lockdown hasn't been going on for as long as the previous, and we have already known for a few days that it was about to end for the most part. Yesterday evening, during a press conference with the prime minister and the minister of health, the loosening of measures were announced formally by the government. And indeed, as had been leaked to the press (it really is quite remarkable how everytime everything is already leaked to the press long before the press conferences take place) one of the things they announced was that restaurants and cafés could open again. 

Around 11, I told Billie Stormzy we should go to the sea to see if there were restaurants open. He immediately ran to his room to get his shoes, clearly excited by the prospect. Soon, we were on our way. He insisted on walking to the beach, so I followed him with our bike by the hand, because we'd need to go and get his big sister from school at half past twelve. As always, Billie Stormzy took his time on the way, checking out anything of interest (from cars of all colours to cracks in the pavement), so it's around 11:30 when we finally arrive at the doorstep of the Pier - anything else is unacceptable for the little one. 

Unfortunately, everything is still closed on the Pier, which somewhat surprises me because normally at least a few places have opened up by now. Apparently, it takes some time to get started again after weeks of lockdown. I tell Billie Stormzy we need to go back to the row of restaurants he emphatically did not want to go to just now, because there's nothing to eat for us here. He puts up a mild protest, but in the end he lets me carry him to Steam.

Steam has been around for a few years, now. It's a striking place, with its steam punk interior and live music evenings. A while ago, when Billie Stormzy's sister was a bit older already, it was a favourite place for dinner for us, because she enjoyed the small house band that often played here. I also quite like it here: the interior design is done with an eye for detail: lots of ironworks and fake factory equipment that has a vague Edwardian feel to it. Gracing the walls are pictures of clockworks and reproductions of Jules Verne and similar retro-futurist pictures of fantastic zeppelins and robots running on steam, and there's lots of fun details, such as the lamp posts supposedly made of lead piping.

When we enter, there's already a few people, mostly sitting by the windows, enjoying the view over the boulevard, Pier and sea. The waitress checks my QR code and says I can sit anywhere I want. I pick a table to the side and Billie Stormzy cheerfully climbs one of the two couches alongside the table. I drop my coat on the other one and sit down next to him. He lets me take of his coat and scarf as well and then I'm happy I can rest for a moment. Last week, first Billie Stormzy, then his sister, then his mum and finally me succumbed to a very nasty virus - no, not Corona, but one that completely disrupted our stomachs and knocked us out so completely that the children and I couldn't even walk straight for days. In fact, while everybody else seems completely recovered, I still feel its aftermath. I have dizzy spells and feel tired without actually being tired. I also find it difficult to concentrate. The whole month of January has been a bit of a disaster zone. During the first week I felt poorly because the booster vaccin shot against Corona that I got on the 3rd had quite a strong effect on me for a few days. This week and last week, daycare for Billie Stormzy and his sister was closed because a number of the women working there contracted Covid. And while we were sick in bad, my mum, having just returned from America, actually did contract Covid. Luckily, she hardly felt sick and is by now fully recovered. She'd just returned from a visit to my brother in America and probably caught the Omicron variant, a new version of the virus that is supposedly milder than other forms of Covid, especially for those who are fully vaccinated like my mum. Many are predicting that this milder variant will actually lead in the end of the pandemic, as the corona virus becomes endemic. After two years of this pandemic, I can only say: "we'll see about that!"

I order a "healthy" sandwich from the lunch card, as well as tea for myself and orange juice for Billie Stormzy. When the drinks are brought, Billie Stormzy is delighted to find that his glass comes with what he thinks is a straw - it is, in fact, a plastic stick that he can use for stirring his orange juice. The orange juice itself comes in a glass bottle that can be closed and opened, which is very handy because it allows me to pour him just a little bit of orange juice at a time, thereby diminishing the risks of an orange juice disaster. For the rest of our stay at Steam, he insists on drinking his orange juice by puting the plastic black stick in his glass and licking drops of juice from it - needless to say, this ends in him having very little drink at the end of our visit, although it is clear that he is enjoying himself mightily. I remember quite clearly that his sister tended to do exactly the same thing: why drink in a normal way if you can have fun with a stick instead? My suggestions that he might want to sip from the glass instead annoy him, and he tells me: "Just drink your tea, dad." I oblige.

Then, my lunch is brought by another waitress. I notice she wears her facemask in the same fashion as her colleague: nonchalantly low, so that her nose and upper lip become visible. Although I think it looks ridiculous (few things look as silly as a nose protruding over a facemask, and the protective effectiveness is rendered nil by wearing it this way), I've also stopped caring. To some, however, the sight of people wearing their facemasks like this has the effect of a red piece of cloth on an angry bull. Social media are full of people loudly decrying other people's facemask-wearing sins. The bare nose is the gravest of all, but from there, it's a long and detailed list of wrong ways of taking it off, wearing facemasks that have some kind of quality flaw, and who knows what. Although I get the idea behind it - what's the use of wearing a facemask if you don't do it in such a way that it protects you and those around you from the virus in the best way possible - I am also getting tired of it, because I am getting the feeling that for many, facemask wearing has become a new version of table manners: if you don't do it in exactly the right manner, you're betraying bad upbringing or character in the eyes of some. I'm pretty bad mannered myself: I persist in wearing a cloth facemask, rather than the disposable medical masks that are now advised. I vaguely do so because of environmental concerns - one or more disposable, plastic containing facemask per person per day seems like an unresponsible addition to the waste pile - but I have to admit that laziness is definitely a reason as well. 

The "healthy" sandwich consists of two slices of brown bread completely covered in greenery, spicy cheese, parmaham and boiled egg. Billie Stormy has all of the latter, which is good because I still have to be careful with what I eat - my stomach easily starts to protest and often I am quite tired after eating because digesting any meal takes quite a lot of energy. Food is of good quality and I actually quite enjoy my sandwich - although not as much as Billie Stormzy is enjoying the tiny drops of orange juice he manages to bring to his mouth with his beloved stick. 

There's a mixture of tropical beats, dream pop and triphop on the sound system. Outside, the weather is grey, windy and cold - if I wouldn't know for sure it'd make me feel sick, I'd order hot chocolate, because it is the ideal weather for it. The time has come to pay and leave, because in 15 minutes, school is out. Billie Stormzy thinks this is not as important as drinking his orange juice: "first I want to finish my drink," he tells me. Given that he is still drinking it one drop at the time, we won't have time for that. I warn him that we'll have to go after we've paid, then ask the waitress for the bill. She brings it and I pay with my card - something Billie Stormzy always insists on doing, but now, he is otherwise engaged, still going at it with his stick. Then, he puts up a fierce fight when I tell him we really need to go now. "I want to drink with my spoon!" he yells, but I tell him to knock it off and he allows me to put on his coat and scarf. When I pick him up, he starts shouting again, but in the end agrees to have one last sip. To my surprise, he insists on leaving the black stick in the glass on the table. And then we're off.