April 30th is Queens Day. When the whole of Holland turns into one big flea market. Very handy. I was just out of fleas.
For the financially-challenged, it's the dog's doodah. Our kids have been clothed by the stuff Dolores picks from the streets after the crowds have stumbled off. Kids clothes don't interest me much. Beer glasses do. I arranged to go on a glass hunt with Mike. After repeatedly telling him what a great collection they sell up my end. He believed me.
The weather was against us. Light drizzle at daybreak discouraged sellers. Eerily quiet. That's what it was. Our glass haul could be measured on the fingers of one foot. Luckily there was a pub* close by to help console us. Mike was well into his second Duvel before he stopped sobbing.
"Maybe next year will be better, Mike."
"Who said there'll be a next year?"
Dolores had more luck. She picked up one glass. A Duvel glass. Better than nothing.
What I really needed was a Chimay glass.
* I can't be more precise. One of the seven things that cannot be named. Forget I said that.
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