NOSTALGIA

is my name to-day. No not sentimentality.
This morning I fancied to cycle to Delft. When I reached the town I suddenly remembered how my brother, the one who visited us yesterday, and I, set out together on our blue scooter to visit opa Delft, in Delft of course. We lived in Leiden at the time, my father had a second-hand bookshop and my mother worked also in it. After schooltime we went there and in the vicinity we roamed the streets. I do not know now how old we were, about eight and five years perhaps.
My brother simply told our parents that we went to opa Delft and absently-minded my father answered that that was allright. So we scootered away, I in front, two feet on the footboard and my brother behind me and he did the stepping.
We reached Leidschendam, it was already getting late and we wondered at what time we would arrive there. At that moment our father in the VW-bug stopped on the road, loaded us in the car and we returned together back to Leiden.
The story was later told that my parents had asked themselves where are Hans and Willy, and then they had realised that we had carried out our plan. It was clear to them what road we had taken, the traffic in those days more simple than now.
I liked the atmosphere in Delft as I arrived there, the sun was shining, it has nice old houses along the many canals, and a much more calm pace than The Hague.
For the blip I squat on the ground and looked under the bridge to the next ones.