Page 33 of A New Life in Amsterdam

A new day can bring so many possibilities. My home is finally cosy and warm and I am going on a date, although I have no idea where to. The problem is, how are you supposed to know what to wear for a first date when you don’t know where you’re going?

All morning, I am a bag of nervous excitement.

I have done lots of nice things with Abe but now that it has turned into an official date, it’s a lot more formal.

I try to take my mind off my pre-date nerves by knitting.

Then I try to do some felting, but my hands shake too much.

I must calm down. I have a coffee but that makes me feel even more jittery. What is wrong with me?

By the afternoon, I practically jump out of my skin when I realise that Abe is at the door to collect me.

I take at least five deep breaths before I calm down enough to greet him.

He looks as gorgeous as ever with that shaggy coat he wears, and his ponytail.

His eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles at me.

I look up at him and feel as though I am about to hyperventilate.

He’s such a handsome man. While I am a nervous wreck, Abe is his usual confident self as he finally tells me where we are going.

‘As you may have guessed by now, I love going around markets. So, for our first date, I wanted to take you to a very special marketplace. Don’t worry, I’ll also take you for dinner afterwards.’

I am relieved that I chose to stick to jeans and a jumper and didn’t get too dressed up.

‘Oh, I wasn’t expecting dinner. Honestly, just going round a market with you is always fun.’

Although I am intrigued as to what sort of market he has in mind. It could be a meat market or even a fish market. I hope it’s not. I didn’t spray on my favourite perfume for it to be masked by the strong smell of herrings and mackerel.

Abe gives nothing away as we walk down the canal in the opposite direction to the market we usually go to. He strides ahead with his long, muscular legs and casual walking boots.

‘Are you cold?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, I am a bit.’

He holds out his hand to take mine and moves in closer to me.

It feels amazing being so close to Abe, and I realise what I have been missing by being so reticent.

Here on the streets of Amsterdam we look like any other couple, and I catch our reflection as we pass by the shop windows.

It feels strange not seeing Paul as part of the couple in the reflection, but Abe and I look good together. Really good.

It doesn’t take long until I see some stalls in front of me and Abe tells me this is where he wanted to bring me for our first date.

‘It’s a special place for me. Welcome to Amsterdam Boekenmarkt,’ says Abe.

‘A book market? How wonderful.’ Thank goodness it’s not a fish market after all.

‘I could spend hours here. Look at all these books! It’s my favourite place to visit. Did you know that booksellers come from miles away to sell vintage books, first editions, and you can find cheaper paperbacks here too.’

Around the stalls, people gather browsing the books that are all laid out in organised piles in crates and on tables.

‘You can find out-of-print books – everything is here. It’s a book lover’s paradise.’

But then Abe suddenly looks at me as though he has just had a terrible thought.

‘Do you like reading? I just realised I presumed everyone does. I never asked you before.’

‘Yes, I love reading. I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better place to come on a first date.’

‘That’s a relief. I didn’t think about it. Just because it’s my favourite pastime, it doesn’t mean it has to be yours too. Can you see how long it’s been since I’ve been on a date with someone? I didn’t think to ask,’ says Abe, as his face relaxes.

‘It’s perfect, honestly.’

‘So happy to hear that. Then let me show you my favourite stall.’

Abe holds my hand tightly among the crowds as we dash across to the other side of the market. The stallholder recognises Abe immediately. They speak in Dutch and then Abe introduces me.

‘This is Marty, he owns the stall.’

‘Hi, Marty. Good to meet you.’

‘You too.’

‘I found that book you wanted,’ says the stallholder.

‘It’s my favourite Dutch writer,’ Abe explains to me.

‘Sounds exciting.’

The stallholder bends down under his table and pulls out an ancient-looking green leatherbound book. Abe is delighted with his purchase, and I love how happy finding this precious book makes him.

‘Take care of Abe, he’s my favourite customer,’ says the stallholder as we leave.

‘I promise I will.’

We weave in and out of the stalls selling both old and new books, and stop at one with a sign in English above it.

‘You know, it’s not just Dutch books here. There are all languages. Let’s find some English books for you.’

I stop and look at the interesting selection of paperbacks, but decide that I probably have enough back home. My reading pile is already quite big, although these books give me an idea.

‘You know what, I’m desperately trying to learn Dutch. Perhaps I should look for Dutch books instead.’

‘In that case, follow me.’

Abe seems to know his way around all the different stalls as he shows me one with children’s books.

‘I think I know just the thing to help.’ I am beginning to wonder if he thinks I should start off reading toddlers’ books when we pass by the stall and find another. Here he hands me a thin book.

‘Here, it’s a book of Dutch short stories. Why don’t you try that?’

‘That’s a great idea. I’ll take it.’

‘Ah, let me. I insist on paying,’ says Abe.

‘Oh no. You can’t do that.’

‘Of course I can. Please, let me treat you. I spend all my money in this place. I like to support the different stallholders. I mean, where would we be without booksellers?’

‘Yes, indeed. The world would be a very sad place without them. Thank you, that’s really kind. I’ll treasure it. Now, can I buy you a drink in return?’

‘Why not? I know a great place nearby,’ says Abe.

‘How did I guess? You know all the best places.’

Despite being huddled up to Abe with his arm around me as we walk to the bar, it’s still bitterly cold.

The warmth of the pub is a welcome relief as we enter.

The place is just Abe’s style, with memorabilia hanging everywhere.

Black-and-white Sinatra prints are intermingled with a Punch and Judy set.

It is truly bonkers and fun in here. On one side there are muppets, on another historical legends like Elvis.

A jukebox in the corner plays the last words of a Scritti Politti song and a small black pug dog runs under my feet as I order.

‘What do you recommend here?’

‘Dutch beer on draught. It’s a must.’

‘Let’s go for it then.’

I order two pints of Dutch beer, and we take a round table in the corner.

‘Proost! Do you know that one yet?’

‘I’m ashamed to say I don’t.’

‘It means cheers.’

‘Oh, yes, of course. How could I not know that?’

The beer tastes refreshing after walking around the book market and once again Abe’s recommendation is spot-on.

‘I meant to say that Beatrix asked if you wanted to join her book club? She said you might enjoy it. Now that I know you’re a reader, I may as well mention it. I wasn’t sure if I should ask, but they read a lot of English books, not only Dutch.’

‘That’s so kind of her. Yeah, that would be nice. I like Beatrix and it’d be a great way to make new friends. She seems very kind, just like you.’

‘Ah, she’s a good person. She always takes care of her younger brother. She always did when we were small, too.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. It’s important to have close family. How old is she? She looks quite young.’

‘Sixty-one, but don’t let her know I’ve told you.’

‘Really? I thought she was around…’ I stop myself from saying ‘my age’.

I don’t want to bring that up just yet. I’d say Abe is in his fifties, but he might be younger than me.

It’s difficult to tell nowadays with everyone looking so good.

My gran looked as though she was 120 by the time she was sixty-eight.

People age so differently now. They could be thirty or sixty. You can never tell.

‘Yeah, she’s two years older than me. She still treats me like her baby brother though.’

‘Well, you must have great genes. I’d never have guessed how old either of you were.’

‘It’s the Dutch way of life. I’m sure I wouldn’t be this way if I’d stayed in corporate life. I’d be a stressed old man.’

‘Hmm, stress definitely ages people. We’re so lucky to be able to live like we do.’

I might have had my teething troubles over the past few weeks, but sat here in a quirky bar with this gorgeous Dutchman, I couldn’t wish for anything more. Life is back on track again.

‘Talking of living well, perhaps we should eat something. Did you want to drink up and go for that dinner?’

‘I guess we should, although I love it here so much, I don’t want to leave.’

‘Me too. Who needs somewhere fancy? In that case, how about we order some snacks to share and stay here?’

We are always on the same wavelength. Do I confess to Abe that I have been eyeing up the delicious snacks coming out of the kitchen?

‘Well, I have seen people ordering some lovely-looking bitterballen.’

‘Bitterballen to share it is. They do the best here. Oh, am I being presumptuous? Did you want to share? Or do you want your own? It’s hard to stop once you start.’

‘Sharing is fine.’

The beef and gravy croquettes complement my Dutch beer perfectly and I sit back and take in the atmosphere.

I relish every bite of my meal as I slowly get used to this easy-going pace of life.

It seems that a stroll around a book market, followed by a pint and some bitterballen, is the recipe for the most wonderful date I have ever been on.

Just shows how you don’t need to spend a fortune to have the best day ever.