Graag gedaan

A domestic Sunday. Pouring rain this morning thwarted my attempt to go for a run, itself the result of my thwarted attempt to go to yoga yesterday -- the lock on the studio door was broken and wouldn't open. Given the climatic setback, I decided to do my own yoga session at home while my sourdough rye bread was baking. The sloping floor, so off-putting to our many viewers, does make some of the standing postures a little awkward; well, that's my excuse for not being able to do The Tree. The bread was great, by the way, despite it's failure to rise as much as I'd hoped. It's very tangy, showing that my repeated efforts to kill off the starter have come to naught. I think I'm going to need to find a good home for it over here. Trying to get it past security and onto a plane back to the UK will prove near impossible. I can't imagine putting 100 ml of scenty, beige starter into a ziplock plastic bag and convincing airport authorities that it's not some form of biochemical weapon -- which it is, but in a good way.

The rain eventually stopped, exhausted no doubt after falling continuously for 16 hours. Off to Super de Boer for supplies, then I left PJ to mule those home while I set out for a walk. Along the Herenstraat, across the Nieuwzijds Voorburgwal, and onto the shopping hell hole that is the Nieuwendijk. After quick trips to Kruidvat and HEMA, I made my way against the tide of unwashed humanity back up the Nieuwendijk, along the continuation of the Nieuwendijk by the Haringpakersbrug, aka Sodom & Gomorrah -- past lots of "smart" shops, dodgy tourist stores offering glass bongs and dildos (and probably bong-shaped dildos), and gloomy coffee shops. On to the Harlemmerstraat, where the aforementioned coffee shops have been displaced by upmarket oil and vinegar shops -- hurrah! And then back home, stopping to admire the view from the Pastoorsbrug at the top of the Keizersgracht. I'm going to miss this view.

At home, PJ was looking very pleased with himself. He'd managed to detach the door of the electricty meter cupboard downstairs; we did have a key for the lock, once, but haven't used it since we moved in and have no idea where it is now. Well, we now have a lock that we can take to a locksmith and get a key for -- and we can (ideally) get some money back from NUON for overpaying on electricity for the past five years. We watched some TV spots for Hot Fuzz, ate some of Jo's lovely cake, I made pastry for a quiche for tomorrow evening, and PJ continued to wrestle with DragonQuest 8 on the PS3. All in all, a relaxing day.