The DFDS King Of Scandinavia is a nicer ship than the boat of the same owner that we took from Kiel in Germany to Klaipėda in Lithuania last year. In fact, this is a really nice vessel, with good restaurants (expensive, too, mind you), evening entertainment (we missed the ABBA tribute, I’m afraid), a children’s playing area, helpful staff and large, comfortable cabins.
I usually find time to post at least one message in the run-up to a holiday, but this time, there just wasn’t ever a stretch of time long enough to post in that wasn’t better spent on some other task or chore.
It’s been a busy time of late, a well-worn cliché in my postings, but no less true for its overuse.
We’re en route from IJmuiden to Newcastle. IJmuiden is only half an hour’s drive from our home and the first time we’ve ever taken a ferry from a Dutch port.
I have to say, it was a particularly easy experience. Upon our arrival on the quayside, we waited only a few minutes before being allowed to drive up the ramp into the bowels of the boat, park and make our way to our cabin.
Our cabin had been allocated at the drive-through check-in point, so we didn’t even have to queue in a reception area on the boat. Instead, we could simply get in the lift and go to deck 11, where our spacious cabin awaited us.
The children were given balloons shaped into animals as soon as they boarded the boat. In their world, there could have been no better welcome.
After dumping out stuff, we went to the play area, where Eloïse and Lucas dove maniacally into the sea of brightly coloured plastic balls. Lukie in particular was in seventh heaven in there.
There followed a brief stop on the observation deck, where, the tanoy had announced, there would be a member of staff explaining all of the wildlife that could be seen during the sailing.
Sure enough, a woman was handing out binoculars and telling people about all of the types of bird, dolphin and porpoise that one can expect to see between IJmuiden and Newcastle.
A hearty dinner ensued and Eloïse demonstrated how particularly at ease she’s feeling today by making conversation with an old Swiss man, something she’d normally be far too shy to do.
Today was the last day of the school year for Eloïse. The after-school festivities served to drive home once more, if any affirmation were needed, that we are affiliated with a caring, loving school with a kind-hearted community of parents.
Sarah was even handed a pot plant as a thank-you for having been a louse mother for the last year, but she had to give the plant to someone else, on account of our impending holiday.
There was a ceremonial farewell to the oldest infants, who, after the summer, will no longer return to Juf Yvette’s kleuterklas, but instead graduate to the eerste klas, the 1st year. It was heartwarming, tinged with the slightest element of sadness, as one realised that things would never be quite the same again. For one thing, a girl that Eloïse likes very much will have moved up a class after the summer and Eloïse herself will no longer be one of the youngest children in the class. Nothing stays the same.
I can’t tell you the peace of mind that stems from having a child who is in harmony with her school environment. I really do think our school is great and it’s so satisfying to see how much Eloïse enjoys being there. But why are we on a boast to Newcastle?
Well, it’s not because we fancy a holiday in Newcastle, that’s for sure. No disrespect to the residents, but I’ve never heard much to recommend it as a holiday destination for, well, anyone, really.
No, we’re going to Scotland, which, it may surprise you to learn, is a country that none of us has been to before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been further north in the UK than Blackpool, so this is very much new territory even for me, someone who was raised in England, albeit about as far away from the North-East as you can possibly get.
When we roll off the boat in the morning, we’ll be just a couple of hours’ driving time removed from Edinburgh, our first stop on this roughly month-long trip.
The weather is forecast to be shite over the next five days, but things could hardly be worse than they were in Italy, so we’re not feeling too intimidated by the prospect. We may change our minds later, when we find ourselves on the sparsely populated islands with very little to do or see in the precipitation, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
We actually only picked up our car from the garage a few days ago, where it had been undergoing extensive repairs to fix the damage sustained on the Italian motorway back in early may, when we curtailed our rain-drenched sojourn and headed home a week ahead of schedule.
Once work on the car had commenced, the damage turned out to be worse than had at first been apparent, with the final bill running somewhere in the region of €7000. Thankfully, the bill gets sent straight to our insurance company, who will hopefully recoup all of the costs from the guilty party in Italy, once all of the paperwork is processed. If not, well, our no-claims bonus will be taking a severe hit next year.
The car looks as good as new now, though. Even a couple of minor dents sustained by my own clumsiness, such as when I reversed into a Slovakian tree in 2006 and again into our too slowly opening electric gate a couple of years ago, have now been miraculously erased, as the whole back section of the car has had to be replaced.
What else is new?
Well, the Dutch have made it through to the final of the World Cup. It’s only the third time ever that we’ve made it this far, and the first in over 30 years.
We didn’t win on either of the previous two occasions, so the excitement in the country at the prospect of beating Spain on Sunday couldn’t be greater.
I don’t even like football, but it’s impossible not to be caught up in the rapturous atmosphere that has enveloped the country since we achieved the seemingly impossible and sent Brazil packing a couple of rounds back.
The atmosphere in Amsterdam is palpable and, for once, people are united behind a single cause that transcends political, cultural and social differences. If only the brotherhood of man could be inspired by something more meaningful than a bloody football match!
Such are the facts, however, and, within those confines, the sense of occasion has still managed to tease out the national pride and sense of camaraderie lurking within even the most misanthropic of curmudgeons: me.
So, reckon that we’ll be seeking out a venue with a suitably large television screen to cheer on the national eleven on Sunday, as they hopefully send Spain home in tears and elevate themselves to the status of demi-gods back home. My only regret is that we won’t be in the Netherlands at the time of the match, because, as I said, the atmosphere is rarified.
In fact, if we weren’t embarking on this holiday, I’d probably be making a concerted effort right now to secure a ticket for the final, and flying to South Africa to bear witness to this once-in-a-lifetime sporting event.
Call me crazy, but this is something that the children of now will discuss with their children thirty years on from now. A sporting achievement like this doesn’t happen often and it’s hard to overstate how seriously football is taken in the Netherlands. The achievement of reaching the final of the World Cup is made all the more significant by our nation’s diminutive size and otherwise complete irrelevance in global affairs. For once, this small country is taking centre stage in the world’s spotlights.
Onc can only hope that Sneijder, Robben et al have the wherewithal to finish what they started when Sunday rolls around. Having seen them play Germany on Wednesday, Spain won’t be an easy team to beat.
That other great sporting event, the Tour de France, started in Rotterdam last Saturday. Lamely, we didn’t go, citing too little time in the run-up to our holiday and the difficulty of dealing with the children or making babysitting arrangements.
I’m not too disappointed by our decision, though. The Dutch TV coverage has, as always, been wonderful, affording us a view of the action rivalled only by that of the actual participants in the race.
As usual, unfortunately, it will prove difficult to stay abreast of the race’s progress whilst abroad. We usually leave on holiday after just a couple of stages, but this year we’ve had more time to become absorbed in the race, so it will be a bummer if we’re unable to find any coverage of it on British TV. In that case, we’ll have to make do with Internet news footage.
Anyway, it’s time to grab some sleep and recharge for our first day in a new country, driving on the wrong side of the road.