Peaches arrived for a visit on Friday evening. I rushed her home so that we could begin our weekend of E! Network viewing, gawking at badly dubbed porn and eating ice cream out of the tub. Awesome.
On Saturday, we made our way into Amsterdam to fight the throngs of stoned tourists through the Red Light District. I was very well behaved and only manhandled one family of orientals.
We refrained from any sexual interactions in the RLD, but we did spend quite a lot of time skipping through the many sex shops. I learnt about the ins and outs of the notorious Rabbit. Peaches learnt about fetish porn. At one stage, she turned around to be greeted by me shaking a gelatinous black gwarrah in her face. Classy are we.
Peaches was determined to invest in something from her visit to the RLD, so purchased two rude t-shirts... but not before trying them on in the sex shop's 'dressing room'.
The dressing room turned out to be a porn viewing room. TV, chair, mirror and a sign that read "No pissing in the cabin." Feeling sufficiently violated, we made a hasty retreat.
Sleaze and smut aside, the highlight of my weekend was taking Peaches cycling. With me as her guide we made quite a sight. I'm still not sure of where I'm going in The Hague and we had to pull a few impromptu u-turns. Peaches does more spinning than cycling, so she hasn't figured out the whole staying on the bike to turn it around. Instead, she dismounts, picks it up and physically changes direction by 180.
That alone was funny enough, but coupled with the fact that I am likely to stop without warning, and Peaches was unable to stop without warning, hilarity ensued.
At one point, I was lucky enough to witness Peaches - blonde locks flowing in the wind - coming to a dead stop... thanks to the streetlight she had just connected with. For the next half hour, I couldn't look at her without getting the giggles as my brain replayed the incident over and over again.
We made it up to the beach for poffertjes (THE best way to put on a tummy-tyre... pancakes, soaking in butter, smothered in icing sugar, served with dollops of cream and ice cream). Enjoying our cholesterol on a plate, we took in the scenery - which largely consisted of topless tanning. Bloody continentals.