Klompen

It was my 50th birthday yesterday, and T and I drove down to Zeeland in Holland because I wanted a blast of sea air. On the way to the beach we stopped in a town called Middelburg for lunch and I spotted these painted children's clogs, or klompen, outside a children's boutique. Aren't they sweet?

(Even sweeter large.)

In the months leading up to my 50th, I had all sorts of plans to either throw a big party with DJs and dancing, or take the children to Tuscany for a week. However, finances wouldn't allow it. I got over my disappointment and decided instead to be grateful for what I have. It turned out to be a lovely, serendipitous day with T and our dog Mia. We chanced upon a dance festival. We enjoyed fresh seafood, and lots of it. I chatted with a lady outside a nice tattoo parlour and toyed with the idea of getting inked for, oh, about 30 seconds. We found a beautiful clean beach that wasn't crowded, unlike the ones on the Belgian coast, which are horribly built-up and ugly. I toasted half a century of living with frozen Stolichnaya on the beach, rather a lot of it, too.

The irony of it was, in my determination to find the quietest spot on an already quiet beach, we pitched up right next to the nudist section. I'm by no means a prude, but it was a rather eye-popping experience all the same. I saw things that I can't unsee, as my friend Kathleen puts it. I kept my swimsuit on and marvelled at people who can walk around in the altogether without a care in the world.

Well at least I didn't come home with a sun-burnt bottom.



Special thanks to my friend Flashmaggie who made this adorable birthday video which was waiting for me when I got home.


~ a backblip ~