Wagon? What wagon…
So, three or four weeks ago I had a rather large night out with a colleague / friend from overseas who was over in London a few days. Let’s just say, after a good seven hours or so of drinking (clever little bugger moved off alcohol unlike me), I’d had more than a skinful.
Being a hardy Scot, I have an ability to drink for long periods without falling down / passing out / vomiting. This led to my being in pieces for 1.5 days, and stabbing pains in my kidneys for about a week. Not smart. This culminated in my proclamations of the wagon being the way forward for at least a month, as the very whiff of alcomafrol made me want to wretch.
Until last night that is.
The good Lady Verburgh of Dutchland currently works in our little Amsterdam outpost and very kindly offered to put me up for the weekend in her gorgeous canal side city central apartment. She’s a gem, a kindred spirited sort of colleague that’s very easy to befriend. So, the view from her pad that’s ten mins walk to central station?
From the font, a lovely quiet tree-lined street, with the Dutch cycling by now and again. From the back, one of the many famed slices of canal, coupled with a stunning old church…
We polished off a bottle of red wine between us last night. I think it’s fair to say I will from here on in adopt a sensible drinking strategy. Now, time to pop out for some Van Gough me thinks.
Until the next alcoholic accident…
Iain is off for some art, bicycling, trams and Dutch lovin…
