When the Boss asked me to go to Amsterdam on business for a few days last week, I jumped at the chance. It's quite a few years since I've been, and I've had some top times there in the past. There are a lot of reasons to love Amsterdam - the people are friendly and good-humoured, they speak perfect English (we lazy Englanders love this), there's a quirkiness and creativity I love, the architecture is beautiful, pretty canals (water, water, everywhere), nice and flat (cycles, cycles, EVERYWHERE) and they make decent beer. I could happily live there and who knows - if the Boss really does decide to open that satellite office, my cycling skills might just be put to the test...(Postscript: actually, not inspired by my Amsterdam jaunt, but I do have a new bike - OK, it's not quite new - it's a 1970's Hercules folding shopper bike. Smiff and Marc found it for me at a car boot sale for the princely sum of a tenner. I'm not known for my cycling skills - 20 years ago, when me and Mr Curran were still an item, he got me a bike. I lasted a week. In that week, I fell into the gutter once, bumped into a lampost on a failed right turn, and the grand finale came when cycling home at 2am without lights, I tried to avoid the oncoming police car and whilst panicking and not really looking where I was going, I crashed headlong into the back of a parked car. Busted my lip, trashed the bike and ended up in a miserable heap. When the said police car pulled up alongside me, and through tears of mirth Plod asked how I was, I decided that me and cycling were NOT a match made in heaven and the bike had to go. Wish me luck and let's hope it's two wheels good this time round).
