Day the first in Holland, June 3rd

A chance conversation, an invitation and a spur of the moment decision to join Aafke on a visit to her parents in Holland means a quick pint of cider in The Lock Inn (Santa Teresa 14), it is very hot in Madrid, jump in a taxi for what should have been a swift transfer to the airport, it being a holiday. Two km. from the airport turn-off we hit a mega traffic jam caused by an accident and it took half an hour to clear that. To T4, that wonderful award-winning jewel in the crown of Barajas Airport and here lies a lesson – we had printed off our boarding cards and even got our baggage labels but do you think that would speed the process up? NO BLOODY WAY. We had to join an enormous queue which snaked it’s way through the terminal and was growing by the second (no doubt due to people being caught in the previously mentioned traffic jam), add to that that only half of the check-in desks in our section were working. The technology and design will only be as good as the people who use it. Having said that, the Iberia part of T4 (not the T4S part which is like some French minimalist film) is quite impressive with loads of shops and bars with the gourmet tapa/wine bar having the longest queue of all – not for us. Armed with newspapers (Irish Times International edition and Hola no less) we took our seats. The next little surprise was a small child sitting across from us who was on the Olympic crying and wailing team and he started warming up as the last bags were being stowed in the overhead locker. I say this because if it was ever a time for something to fall out of the overhead locker and fall on someone, it was now. He roared and bawled all the way to Schiphol, saving a mighty screaming fit until the last 15 minutes at which point, he promptly fell asleep as the ‘plane touched down. The Airline staff were as usual, very polite and friendly though I would question the wisdom of handing out the colouring sheets and crayons to the children as we were starting our descent. Another thing about the drinks trolley, when it finally made an appearance, over an hour into the flight, was that it only had Cruzcampo, which is gnats. I asked for a couple of cans of shandy but I got the last one and they were only half-way down the ‘plane.

Finally debarqued and re-united with our luggage we were met by Aafke’s dad, the charming Mr. Aafke and we were whisked to their house near Haarlem. The house is quite amazing, beautifully laid out and a labour of love for Mr.and Mrs. Aafke. They have been restoring it for about nine years. We sat out on the terrazza and got stuck into an array of Dutch tapas; Bitterballen a type of meaty croquette, Frikandel a type of sausage and chicken nuggets, all accompanied with their respective sauces, mustards and dips and washed down with splendid Heineken. A note here about Dutch Heineken, it bears no resemblance to the wee that is made in Spain. Inside for the night-cap and some excellent home-made apple tart. Plans were made for tomorrow and I took to the guest room, which is bigger than my house.