This is Rembrandt's kitchen from Amsterdam. It's part of museum that is a recreation of his house, exactly as it stood in ye olden days. See how good I am at history dates? Nice Man and I toured round the house - listening to the museum commentary on cordless phone sets. I was wearing my new £5 ring in the shape of a flower, and after we left I realised one of the petal jewels had fallen out. Oh, I said, I left a bit of my ring at Rembrandt's house. It sounded dry without meaning to. Those wild parties at our mate, Rembrandt's house...
Our apartment came with a complimentary grass joint - legal in the 'Dam of course. It was like something from Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City. My attempts to inhale were risible. They should have given me a leaflet at passport control.
What a great bicycle town though. I have never seen so many bikes, so much confident pedaling, free of carbon footprints.