No wasting of elastic bands by the Dutch Posties. For many years I have followed behind the Filey ones and retrieved bands from the pavements , much to the horror of my husband .
We have taken our lives into our hands here in Amsterdam. I have had to lead spouse by the hand so that he would not be the cause of a bicycle pile up by standing right in the paths of the thousands of vehicles here. If you can call them vehicles that is. From our window we can see the ferries in tandem crossing the Rhine east to west and west to east. As soon has they dock, hundreds of Dutch cyclists look like vast spidery rivers of ants flowing into the roads. Yes the metaphors are mixed but I just can't find any better way of describing the sight. It has been a huge worry for us. C lost part of his vision after a stroke, and Amsterdam is the most dangerous place he has ever negotiated. I have had to steer him out of the paths of Trams in Basel,Old ladies with dogs in Paris , prams in Filey , and now Bicycles.
The churches here all seem to tower above the city, like the landmarks of its twin in Lincolnshire and my own native Holderness .We have only managed to visit the Westerkirk , whose bells could be heard by Anne Frank hidden nearby. It is remarkable inside for its blatant Protestantism , but manages to have one of the most elaborate votive candle racks I have ever seen, whose inspiration , so they could get away with it was the Burning bush. I do love exuberance.