Afterwards, I hooked up with K, and we sat in Pavillion Gardens talking, catching up. I'd noticed a mobile phone on the grass next to us, but I'm never sure what to do in such situations. It rang, so I picked it up. And I said "have you lost your mobile phone?" And a perplexed dutch man said "how do you know?" It was very waiting-for-godot. I told him it was in the Gardens, and he said he'd come and get it.
It's funny how if you look at people's faces properly, nearly everyone looks like they've lost something. Two typically-Dutch-but-short guys turned up, kissed us on both cheeks, and thanked us profusely. Marcel and Lex were from Rotterdam, worked in private banking and were I guess late twenties. They wanted to take us out to "thank us" for finding their phone, but when we got chatting to them (Rotterdam - immigrants - Pim Fortuyn) we discovered that we had met the only two extremely-right wing, racist dutch people I've ever encountered. We beat a hasty retreat to Moshi Moshi Sushi where we watched two guys at the next table practically have sex. Didn't know where to look; I'm not a great believer in PDA (that's public displays of affection rather than personal digital assistants), at least not when you can hear little yelps and the exchange of bodily fluids.
Great sashimi, though.
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