Winter in Amsterdam

Winter suits Amsterdam.  Even in mid-March there are still splinters of ice in the North wind and the cold blue-grey light is the perfect backdrop for the monochrome colour palette of the city, with its network of canals bordered by merchants' houses, still as beautiful and harmonious today as when they were built.

We spent my recent birthday there, staying on the Herengracht, one of the prettiest canals in Amsterdam, browsing around the markets and churches, enjoying the ambiance in the cafes, shops and restaurants, and admiring the art in the museums and galleries, chatting with the very friendly locals and hopping on and off trams whilst trying to avoid the bikes which seem to come flying from all directions!  

Amsterdam has many faces and most of these photos were taken in the Nine Streets area near our hotel.  This area is lovely by day...

... and by night.  In the evenings, we would walk around the Nine Streets after dinner, admiring the stark winter-bare trees against the night sky and the lit-up windows of the beautiful old houses. 

 I was particularly fascinated by the shop windows, lit up at night and full of colour and life

A great city for a short break and one I look forward to revisiting one day!

March birthday

Flu has invaded my life and confined me to my home, my room, sometimes (too often) just my bed. The good things are plenty of time to read, all the time in the world, and to sleep, and losing lots of weight before my son's imminent wedding .

The downside is worrying that I will not be well in time, this has gone of for so long now. I must be well, I must. I shall!

In the meantime, I just wanted to share my birthday flowers. Tulips are one of the best things about March birthdays, I think.

Birthday lunch

It was 21 years ago when I first came face to face with my youngest son.  The time just flies by from baby to toddler, small child to large child, teenager to young adult.  

We met for lunch in a bustling London bar, all Farrow & Ball and mismatched tables and chairs; red buses swishing by on the busy, wet, Saturday streets, people scurrying under umbrellas in the relentless icy rain, but we were warm and cosy inside.

I miss my boys and the homes we made together, the lives we shared, but how lovely to meet up like this and share a birthday lunch.

Strand

A sharp gust of wind blew my hair across my eyes as I crossed the road towards the Royal Courts of Justice. As I brushed it away, suddenly there he was walking towards me.

Smart in his dark blue suit, purple shirt, tie flapping in the stiff breeze, he was over 6' tall, broad shouldered with heart-stoppingly blue eyes, dark flowing locks curling slightly to his shoulders. He saw me and smiled straight into my eyes.

'Hello Mum,' he said, hugging me. 'Lovely to see you. Let's go and have lunch.'

My 25 year old son, on his birthday.

Birthdays

He turned 16 the other day, the 10lb baby boy I expelled from my body on a whiff of gas and air after a short, vicious labour all those years ago. We gazed at each other, shocked at where we had just been, surprised finally to see each other. Separate. Different.  Other.

To be cradled in my arms, to kiss his downy new-baked head, to hold him to my breast, wince, relax and whisper "I will keep you safe."