As they walked, Bertram asked Gertrude, “Have you ever visited Rene’s, old thing?”
“No. What’s Rene’s? Is it another sex shop?”
“Ah, no my dear, Rene’s is the best street café and cake shop in the known world and if I’m right, it’s only five minutes from here. A great place for an afternoon snack. They do very good coffee, great filled croissants and the best cakes that I’ve ever eaten. Their apple strudel is worth the trip to Amsterdam on its own.”
“Ooh, sounds yummy,” said Gertrude. “It’s lucky that I left my diet at home.”
When they got to Rene’s, the several coffees that she had drunk already that morning had made their collective presence felt in Gertrude’s bladder.
“Do they have a loo here? I’m bursting for a pee.”
Continue reading Trouble at Rene’s…
“I’ve read the page on your website about the sex shop and the mousy little china man, it was hillarious, spilled my coffee laughing!”
It might be worth noting at this point that the Netherlands Guild of Calvinist Christian Women have stern views on Amsterdam’s red light areas. Very stern views.
Continue reading Bertie meets The Guild of Calvinist Christian Women.
They found a patisserie on Sint Antoniesbreestraat that Gertrude fell in love with immediately. It was uncluttered, furnished with old pine furniture and well lit by antique brass chandeliers niftily converted to electric. The walls housed large, gold-framed mirrors and were decorated in dark reds and greens, with a fleur-de-lys picked out in gold leaf here and there. Where the aging mahogany countertop, piled high with pastries, abutted the wall, it was lined with antique Delft tiles, adding a further splash of style to the old-world feel. The woodblock floor was well worn and welcoming to the visitor, as was the aroma of good coffee hanging in the air.
Continue reading Breakfast at the patisserie…
Enhancing the aftermath experience…
…Bertram asked, “Did I ever write and tell you of my colleague and chum Toby’s experience regarding love making and more particularly, ahem… enhancing the aftermath experience?”
“No sweetie, I don’t recollect such a story,” came Gertrude’s answer.
Continue reading Never, ever, wipe it on her curtains!
The next morning arrived some time before Bertram awoke and was there, peeping through the curtains, waiting for him to wake up and shake a leg. He opened one eye then the other, thinking, ‘Hang on a moment, where is Teddy-Odd-Ears? This isn’t my room…’ It was a couple of seconds later that he remembered he was in Amsterdam and that last evening he’d had the time of his life. So, if he was not hallucinating, he deduced that Gertrude would be lying in bed next to him and Teddy-Odd-Ears would be sat on his suitcase. He wasn’t, and they were!
Continue reading Sex before breakfast anyone?
Gertrude was by now, starting to realize her error but couldn’t help herself observing, “Surely Bertie, you don’t really have the build for a pole-vaulter and never did, from what I can remember.”
Continue reading Agent Bertram on the dangers of Pole Vaulting…
“But I thought that Pavlov was a ballerina,” said Bertie, a little confused.
“I was thienking that he was a fruity meringue,” offered Grietja.
“Well maybe he was, but he had this dog and it kept having things taken away from it, if you catch my drift. Now, if Bertie doesn’t want his nookie declared forfeit, he’ll jolly well sit down and be a good boy!”
Continue reading …and Pavlov came too!
Bertram smiled and gave Gertrude a hug, which turned into a kiss. It was a long, lingering kiss where tongues probed and palms wandered. They broke off after a while if only to draw breath. He turned around and leaned on the railing to take in the view up and down the canal. There was a slight scuffle behind him but he thought nothing of it, as he was certain that no one had followed them down the stone steps.
Continue reading Passion by an Amsterdam canal!
“Bertie dear, I’m very hungry,” she said.
“That’s the munchies kicking in,” said Bertram. “If you like we could go back to the falafel bar or I noticed a valamse fritte takeaway just down the way. We could call in there and get some chips (fries) with salad cream on them. I know that I could do with another drink of fizzy pop or something. My throat is as dry as a sand lizard’s socks.”
“You used to say that when we went out together!” said Gertrude. “It was always your excuse to get into the nearest pub. What I want to know is, how you know just how dry a sand lizard’s socks are?”
“Ah, well, that is down to me knowing the ancient lore of the Aboriginal bush men. I learned that from that outdoor survival chappie, Ray Mears, in person… while he was on the telly.”
Gertrude laughed. “That chubby little bugger Ray Mears was just a child when we were together, you blighter! What’s more, if he lives on roots and grubs like he says he does, why is he so rotund?”
“Ah yes…. Of course… Here we get to the nub of the matter,” giggled Bertram. “Did you know that whenever he sets up camp in the wilds, if you turn the camera around one hundred and eighty degrees, it will be pointing straight at a McDonalds? It’s a little known fact…”