Out last night for one of our last dinner parties in Amsterdam. Alan and Jo had decided to officially christen their new dining room table, and a very fine christening it was too. Even thought we didn't get to smash a bottle of champagne across the prow of the table, the alcohol flowed freely, great food -- particularly the chocolate biscuit gateau that caused your life to flash before your eyes with every spoonful -- and the setting was beautiful. As we walked toward the house, we could see candles alight in the huge windows at the front; as we sat at the table, we could see people walking past and peering in. I'll miss this ready openess with the outside world when we return to the land of net-curtain twitchers. We left at around midnight, strolling back through the moonlit streets and listening to the sound of James Brown's Sex Machine blaring from one of the houses across the Keizersgracht.
Two weeks and we'll be in Southampton.
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