Now I'm learning about wet.

For over a week now the clouds have been drifting over the country, making the weather unpredictable and generally wet, so apart from last weekend – more on that later – I have been mostly inside, getting to know my new housemates (all my old ones moved out, is that a hint?) and helping to start up Tafelstraat again now that the holidays are in the past.
As to my new housemates, they’re not a very varied bunch. One of them hasn’t arrived yet, but I already know that he, like the other three, is employed at Chateau Neercanne, the castle next to my house. They’ve all had education and experience of some sort in working at restaurants, and so thus far the conversations have mostly been about that. Which is, to be frank, duller than Braudel’s theory of the Secular Trend of history. One of them also has a tendency of boasting about his 125 DVD collection, which is a bit unimpressive.

As that’s about all there is to tell about them, I’ll return to the topic of the wet weather and recount the family day I had last Saturday in Wassenaar. Wassenaar is a town near The Hague where mostly rich people live, and so does a far-off branch of my family (it was the birthday of the widow of my father’s mother’s brother, if you follow).
My dad and I took the train to The Hague and there met up with my uncle and aunt and then walked over the beach to Wassenaar, a walk of perhaps 5-6 km. It went relatively slowly, because walking through the sand takes ages. The beach is not my favourite place to be, as the sight quickly bores me. There are dunes on one side, endless sea on the other and sand in between. Luckily there were seabirds to distract us, and we particularly saw the Nordic Stern in all its glory.
The family day was from 14:00-17:00, cleverly avoiding both lunch and dinner (there is a reason rich people stay rich) and so, as the weather was fair, we decided to walk back again, this time through the dunes, for some variation. This route, however, was somewhat lengthier.
Two-thirds through, the inevitable happened, and it started raining like mad. I only had a light coat with me – and a hat – and it proved most insufficient. In about fifteen minutes my coat had taken all it could and I got soaked through and through. However, my hat was of better quality than I had expected. My hair stayed dry throughout the ordeal. My right ankle also started hurting more and more and as there is no alternative means of transport in the dunes, the last trek was hell, with an ache at every step and double the weight (thank to all the water in my clothes).
Perhaps the three hours back home in public transport were even worse, as I was soaked to the bone and the trains were freezing. Luckily I had brought a spare vest, which had stayed dry in my bag, and my dad helpfully borrowed me his coat, which had stayed dry.

And yesterday I had to baby-sit four children, perhaps more on that later.