Why King's Day is less fun than Queen's Day
“It's koooo-ning-in-neeee-day again,” so ended the self-composed song of my teacher from group eight. It was a true composition. The whole village sang along just after the Wilhelmus and before the Zilvervloot at the aubade on the grass field in front of the nursing home. All those old ladies waving from the window and I was peeking at the scooter boys. Yes, I was a bit early with my interest in boys.
But King's Day pales in comparison to Queen's Day. Even though we can now see what Máxima and the princesses are wearing, we understand that Wim-Lex is not interested in endless cookie-eating sessions and we all actually do the same as before, it seems different, it feels different, it is different.
First of all: Bea is no longer participating. And that was a reassuring thought, that she was somewhere in the country watching Old Dutch games with angelic patience and shaking hands with the orange followers. I miss Bea a little.
Plans are made late. I'm now a bit panicky texting around, because hey, we have to do something, but secretly I'm thinking about a long lunch and a walk on the beach. In the past, you just knew it, without a campaign plan. From the flea market to the terrace, from the terrace to the pub, from the pub to a nice creature's home and hop, on the boat and off again the next day.
Queen's Night sounds better than King's Night. Admit it: Queen's Night was a promise that it was better and wilder and crazier than the day that followed.
And then the day that was actually the after of the night. A little bit of lounging in the sun, having breakfast with the neighbors, a drink to give it a try and a bit too late in the evening stumbling up the stairs because the day got a little out of hand.
My friends have children and suddenly they are sitting on a blanket selling lemonade with the little sprout. I have to get used to it, honestly, just get used to it.
I'm looking for the golden tip to make Wim-Lex's day just as fun as Bea's. Anyone?
