Fortitude

Enforced leisure has given me the perfect opportunity to undertake the many tasks that have been waiting patiently for the promised “when I can fit you in”. Have I done any of these tasks? Of course not. I probably had no intention of ever doing them when they were added to the virtual list. Still, when you are not feeling tip top, and subsequently descend into the mire of boredom, it is difficult to rouse even a smidgeon of oomph. I am oomphless. Not an oomph to be found.

One of the “pending” items was to write something. It is not as if I haven’t tried, or made an attempt even. Sitting down at my computer earlier in the week, I somehow found myself diverted to deleting emails from 2013 for an undisclosed and rather embarrassing length of time. Exhausted by this mind-numbing exercise, I then flopped in front of the TV and watched pap. This will not do. I gave myself a stern talking to and for once I listened. “Just get on and do it” I said. “OK” I replied. It wasn’t a long conversation, it was patently clear what I was getting at.

Shall we talk about holidays? That would be a pleasant diversion. Whilst in The Netherlands recently we visited Fort Sabina, built by Napoleon in 1810/11 as defense against the dastardly Brits. We love a bit of culture and love it even more if it has a good cafe with splendid cake, which it does. We were ably driven to this stronghold by my niece, who has recently passed her driving test, the journey soundtracked by a full running commentary from her father. As we approached the car park we noticed it was surprisingly almost full. On close inspection it seemed to be very full with classic cars. Our first job, of course, was to tour the site and to pick our favourite. The Maserati’s and Lamborghinis left me cold, but this Mercedes convertible sang a sweet song to me. It is the one I bagsied and we all know that bagsy is the law.

After refreshments we wandering around the moated circumference, dotted with trees and wildflowers, side-stepping oblivious grazing sheep, peering into curious artillery shelters and examining remnants of gun placements. Later we took a short walk up to the water and watched enormous container barges pass and one lone yacht, dwarfed by its commercial kin.

It was a lovely day; some learning, a gentle stroll and natter in the sunshine and the purchase of the biggest bottle of beer in the whole wide world*. The only thing missing was my nephew who unfortunately had been forced to stay up all night partying and was therefore unable to accompany us. Strangely, my invitation to this event seemed have been lost in the post. Still, next time Daan, I’ll bring my golden boots.

*to be verified by the Guinness Book of Records