Family
Last weekend I went to the Netherlands by myself, for a large reunion with my cousins as well as my parents. We met up in Zeist, a lovely old town in the centre of the Netherlands. My father grew up in Zeist, so it was extra special to meet in what used to be their family church. My father was one of eight children, the youngest. He was three years old when his father died, leaving my gran to run the dairy shop by herself. My dad’s side of the family is all rather exuberant, and they’re into story telling. The Dutch way of holding a conversation means when talking to four cousins, there will literally be four people talking at the same time, probably four different topics as well... As there were about thirty-eight of us, the noise in the room was, well, wonderful, I would say! For the last few weeks, my sisters had been running a family quiz in Whatsapp, and I realised how much fun memoirs could be. I’m not too keen on life stories, but looking at old photographs made me t...