Happy Tea Time Stories

By Ben Westerman

One hundred short stories with sometimes an undercurrent of sarcasm. Because no matter how bizarre a tale may be - and the present writer has a vivid imagination - reality turns out to catch up with you time and again. It should be clear that even behind our dikes, and sometimes far beyond, a considarable number of real weirdos (m/f/x) turn out to be walking around. A number of which have of had been in power for a shorter or longer period of time. With all its consequences. Which may be recognizable to people who have their ears and eyes open. And people for whom this is too tiring can, as far as I am concerned, just continue to sleep peacefully.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ben Westerman
• Release date: Jul 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9789083106946

Ben Westerman

Graduated as a psychologist. At the Utrecht University. Most of my teachers have since died or hit the bottle. After that I worked for a while in education. First at some colleges of applied sciences and then for a long time as a lecturer in business administration and management techniques, and as an examinator and supervisor of dissertations, at one of the smaller universities in the Netherlands. With employees of whom the world rarely or never hears anything. Then, together with my wife, I started an independent translation practice. With mainly large banks and multinationals as clients. And now I have started a new career as an independent publisher of own stories. A person has to do something, hasn’t he.

Book preview

1. Tea for two

Esmay was expecting him every moment now. And she looked forward to his arrival. Many had already preceded him, but this one had something extra special. Until now she had always succeeded in collecting them in alphabetical order. First there had been Adam. A bit of a simple soul, but otherwise okay... . Then Benjamin, just a very sweet boy, though very naïve. Anyway, that would have only made it easier to ensnare him. Christopher, was a really handsome guy. David, smart and shrewd. Really the type she loved. Emanuel, a promising guy. Could eventually have gone far, but well... .Filippus, a little hot-tempered man, but usually like wax in her hands. Goliath, a giant of a guy, should have kept him a little longer. Habakkuk, oh well, the sweetheart. Isaac, one of her favorites, with his babyface and his mischievous look. John, that was a real gentleman, always perfectly dressed and very well-mannered. Then there was Kain, a somewhat short-tempered type, but she had brought him to his knees. Then came Lucas, a bit of a knuckle-dragging swine, but anyhow with a somewhat manageable character. Then Marcus, a bit difficult to deal with, but basically a good guy. Then Nicodemus, well, besides being an incorrigible alcoholic and drug addict, he had also had his good sides. Then came Obadiah, a real party boy that you could laugh at, but he also had a more serious side. And finally, for the time being, Peter, just a kind and good-natured man, whom she had been particularly fond of. Anyway, now it was the next one’s turn. And she could hardly wait for him to arrive. She would receive him warmly. In her familiar way.

She had dressed as attractively as possible, in an ultra-short miniskirt, black fishnet stockings and tight-fitting leggings with a deep décolleté. She had also been to her favorite hairdresser, Eugene, who had piled up her hair as high as possible. She had also made herself as beautifully as possible. She had decorated her eyebrows, her eyes treated with belladonna and her lips painted fiery red. After which she admired herself extensively in the mirror. Who, to her delight, let her know that she was truly irresistible.

Furthermore she had made all the preparations that were necessary. For example she had filled the bath with a mixture of hydrochloric acid and nitric acid, in the ratio of three to one. A blend that was also called royal water. Yes, she would treat her highness in a royal manner again this time. So that he could be added to her collection as a fine specimen. And he would be hers forever. From her alone. And he would never abandon her again. Like that one time... . But no, she preferred not to think about that.

Exactly at eight o’clock the bell rang. So he was on time. She loved that. After kissing each other passionately, she took his coat and hung it neatly on the coat rack. She would later find a destination for it. But that was not in a hurry. She preceded him to the salon and had him sit in the easiest armchair she had in the house. Into which he set down with pleasure. After which she poured a cup of tea and put it down for him. She had poured herself a cup before. Of course before she had provided the tea with an exquisite mix of oleander, foxglove and monkshood. That had always worked very well. And that would now be the case again.

‘How was your workday?’ she asked. Because she knew he liked to talk about his work. He was a financial advisor and tried every day to sell as many people as possible products that they did not need at all, but that made them as many cash cows for him.

‘Very well,’ he said with a satisfied smile, ‘I was able to conclude seven contracts. For a total of three hundred and fifty thousand euros. More than average. Oh well, craftsmanship is mastery, isn’t it. And what else are you a genius for, huh.’

Yes, yes, she thought. It was immediately clear to her what kind of a dirty little brat he really was. But that’s what she loved. A man had to be a man. And not a wimp. As long as he didn’t bother her. But that all worked out just fine.

‘And what did you do today?’ he asked, pretending interest.

‘Ah, just some things,’ she said, ‘I first had coffee with Jasmine this morning, then I went to the hairdresser and did some shopping, and then I took a digestive at Albert’s corner. Nothing special really. And, of course, I was looking forward to seeing you. That alone made up for the whole day.’

Of course he liked to hear that. And it only made him even more complacent than he already was Yes, he had hit it off with this female. She was of course a bit simple, compared to him, but yes, that wasn’t important. With such a person he could at least show himself to his colleagues. And as long as she kept her mouth shut a little, he could make a good impression with her. And that’s what it was all about. And maybe even he would propose to her someday. After all that was part of it, at least in the circles he usually found himself in.

She waited quietly for him to drink his tea. She certainly wasn’t allowed to insist, he had to do it himself. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. After which she held out the cookie jar to him. From which he took a ladyfinger.

‘Take two right away,’ she said, ‘you’re not that modest otherwise.’ After which he picked up a second one and devoured them both with taste. After he emptied his cup, she immediately refilled it.

Not long after she was pleased to see him slump back in the armchair and lie there motionless with his mouth half-open. She was now quietly drinking her own tea, taking a few more cookies from the drum and waiting another fifteen minutes to be sure. She then drove the armchair, under which, handy as she was, she had mounted wheels, to the bathroom. After that it was all simple comme bonjour. In other words, the rest was child’s play. At least for herself... .

And so she had finally succeeded in adding a Q to her collection. Quinten’s Q. It is true that this name was a bit out of place compared to the others, but she took that for granted. That’s going to be all right again with the R...

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Bsnuew8f6s

2. Let’s boogie

It has to swing, otherwise it’s nothing. Or, to speak with Benny Goodman, it don’t mean a thing, if it ain’t got that swing. But yeah, when does it swing?

Matthias was a swinger. In just about every sense of the word. He liked it best when he managed to seduce several women in one day and he could play them off against each other. Then he felt like he was king of the world. After that, however, he dropped them just as easily. Hunting and conquering, that’s what he was all about. But once he had succeeded, the fun was soon over for him. And boredom struck almost immediately. Because he couldn’t really maintain a relationship. He wasn’t interested in it either. Nor was he interested in what was going on in the women in question. They were just objects to him. Utensils, which, moreover, were only usable for a very short time. For him at least.

What made him, he thought at least, particularly attractive, was that he could dance well. Which often proved to be irresistible for women. He could often be found in dance halls and discos, where he made his move on the assembly line. And after a few drinks, and sometimes a little more than a few, they were usually willing to enter into a short-lived relationship with him. Which then amounted to him sharing the bed together. After that, as far as he was concerned, it was done again. Which meant that it was immediately over and out again. Because he just didn’t feel like whining and fussing. And that’s what it threatened to turn out to be very soon. Then all of a sudden they wanted things from him. And he had to have none of that. Because imagine, it could just be that such a person would want to marry you. And then also would like to have children. Which you would have to do all kinds of things with. Educate them for example. He didn’t have to think about it. No, no, women were just to have fun with, but then they had to leave quickly. Because then it would have been nice again. And he could freely and happily hunt for the next one. Because yes, he was a man for that. And to be sufficiently sure, he was constantly looking for confirmation for this. And those females gave it to him. Fortunately yes. Otherwise he wouldn’t know what to do. Because how else could he prove to his friends that he is a real man. And certainly not a wimp. And certainly not gay or anything similarly nasty. No, no, he fell for women. Only on women. In all shapes and sizes, he didn’t care. Well, of course they weren’t supposed to be too ugly. But hey, at night all the cats are gray. That’s the way it is. And he didn’t have to make a good impression with them. If only he’d had them, that’s all that mattered.

This went well this way for a long time. But then he meets a woman, Eloise, who is not so easily dismissed. On the contrary, she is very tenacious and clearly wants more from him. Much more. A lot more. And show that in a very emphatic way. So that he hasn’t had a quiet moment since. She chases him everywhere he goes. And several times she has dragged a woman, with whom he thought he could start something, by her hair off the bar stool and chased her away. If necessary with the help of a few firm blows or by using her razor-sharp nails. After which she immediately ordered a few drinks. Which she usually got from the house. Because many bartenders liked a little bit of fun. And so they wanted to stimulate her quite a bit.

Soon things went from bad to worse. What was he supposed to do? How on earth did he get rid of her. On the other hand, he caught himself not wanting to lose her. Or was he just trying to keep up appearances for himself, and of course for his friends and other people around him? He didn’t agree with himself on that either. And it even began to look like the tables had now turned, as it were. He was no longer the hunter, but the hunted one. And, although he didn’t want to admit that to himself, he actually didn’t mind that much at all. Although he should find it. After all he was a real man. And even a real macho. Isn’t he? Yes, sure enough and yes he is. He’s just getting more and more confused. Because how it had to continue now?

However Eloise took matters into her own hands again and soon moved in with him. In which she as a matter of course took over a number of household tasks from him. What he accepted resignedly and what he actually didn’t mind at all. This gave him more time for other things. Because he was rarely bored anymore. Not least at the hands of his lover. In the meantime he had also found a new hobby, namely having applied as many tattoos and piercings to all possible parts of his body. He also began to build collections ranging from various species of bat wings to shark teeth. With everything in between, such as snake skins, and preferably of the most poisonous species, chipped nails, preferably in all colors of the rainbow, as many as possible of the elements from the periodic table and of all kinds of insects, both dead and living ones.

Eloise liked this at first, although she also thought it was a bit strange. But yes, she loved him, so she just took it for granted. And she wasn’t bothered by it, except for some piercings, like the one he’d used to rig his scrotum. But yes, she took that for granted too. In any case, he remained loyal to her for a while now. And he barely even looked at other women anymore. And he only danced with Eloise. Although this one wasn’t really a star at that.

Still blood is thicker than water. And secretly he began to long for his former life. And he began to miss the variety. But yes, how was he supposed to go about it. And how could he hide that from Eloise? Because if she found out, he would be in big trouble. And she still had her razor-sharp nails. And he rather didn’t want to get acquainted with that. Then he comes up with an idea. And he joins a bridge club. After all, these mainly have female members. But, and of course Eloise knew this, almost only very boring, ugly and extremely annoying women. So she wouldn’t look for anything behind that. But of course he is only nominally a member of the club. And, after the introductory evening, he never goes there again. He also thinks bridge is a really boring game, so why should he? And instead he visits his familiar dance venues again. Where he enjoys himself again as usual. And he’s back on the hunt.

At one point he is invited to a masked ball. Held on the estate of one of his conquests, a rich, but somewhat eccentric lady. In which he of course gladly participates and to this end dresses himself up as Casanova. And then, of course, disguised. The ball is a great success. And he dances throughout the evening with a whole series of women. Until at one point he meets a partner who, although she doesn’t seem to dance very well, constantly pinches him in a firm grip. What he likes for a while, but what he thinks is enough at a certain point. But that was not the case for her, that was akingly clear. And she won’t let him go for the rest of the evening.

Then, finally, the masks go off. And he suddenly stares into the, now not very friendly, face of Eloise. And then, watched by the often surprised, but here and there also amused, other guests he gets extensively acquainted with her dreaded and above all razor-sharp nails.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKvdeJyvTKs

3. How would they fare?

It had all been very different in the past. Much more fun in any case. Cozier. And easier. Because she never really had to make any special effort for it herself. People naturally crossed her path. And for the rest it all went more or less by itself. She had a lot of friends at the time. Both friends and boyfriends. And also a lot of girlfriends. In short, Emanuelle had a rich social life for a while. So she knows a lot of people. Or actually knew a lot of people. Because at some point, one after the other, they had suddenly disappeared from her life. While all this time she had thought that they had so much fun together. She had apparently been mistaken about that. Although she had no idea what had gone wrong. Because somehow something must have gone wrong. Otherwise they wouldn’t have just abandoned her anyway. She does however wonder from time to time how they would fare.

Whereby she always wonders what could have happened. They’d had fun together, hadn’t they? But over time, one after the other gave up. Although she had no idea why. While until then it had all been so nice and cozy. After all, for a while they had done a lot of things together and had a good time. For example they went out to dinner together. Or got a drink somewhere. Or both, that was also possible. Going to the movies together... Yes, cozy. Going to a concert together, all very nice. Together to parties, birthday parties, weddings. Often also on holiday together. All absolutely amazing. And she had always thought they would be friends for life. Until she found out that not every friendship was the same. And that many so-called friends only used you as long as you were of some kind of use to them. Yes, that was a shame. Very unfortunate.

Her friends had always been there, so to speak, in various shapes and sizes. And in that respect she wasn’t picky either. As far as she was concerned there could be blemishes and imperfections on them. After all no one is perfect. Moreover it would only be a boring affair if everyone was equal. And especially if everyone was just well-behaved and responsible. No, there had to be something to experience with them. At least Emanuelle thought.

For example there had been Boris. He loved good food and was not averse to alcoholic delicacies. Moreover he could dance well and had a sense of humor. So you could quite an evening spend with him. As long as you didn’t start talking about politics or anything else complicated, because then you’d soon be completely drowsy.

And then you had Sonia. She was what you call a nymphomaniac. In other words a man-devourer. Who in general fell on types of questionable allure. With which she usually had a short-lived and usually unsatisfactory affair. After which he was discarded again. And she went hungry looking for the next one. Anyway she wasn’t unsociable in her own way. At least when she hadn’t sniffed.

And then there was Caspar. That was really a gambler. He was addicted to all kinds of gambling games such as roulette, baccarat and blackjack and he also loved scratch cards, not to mention horse racing. However he often took big risks when gambling. He had even survived a game of Russian roulette once. But other than that he was usually pleasant company. As long as he didn’t take a sip too much.

Ivana was a special case. She was an artist. That is she drew and painted. With chalk, charcoal and oil paint. And that with reasonable success. Because every now and then she sold a drawing or painting. She had forgotten how many there were by now, but at least more than Van Gogh had sold in his entire life. She was therefore a better painter than Vincent van Gogh. At least she thought so. She often dressed in slightly too narrow blouses and far too tight skirts and she preferred to walk in stiletto heels. And she always proved to have an irresistible attraction to men. But she was usually bored of her lovers very quickly. And then wondered afterwards what on earth she had seen in it. Whereupon she quickly painted a portrait of him and then stored it in a dark corner of her attic. After which she tried to forget him as quickly as possible.

And then of course you had Melchior. This one was a petty criminal. Who occasionally committed a burglary, was very handy as a pickpocket and who also from time to time tried to persuade people to put money into very dubious projects, which at least he himself knew was all pure scam. But you could laugh with him. And he could always tell beautiful stories about his practices. And he had never deceived her until now, at least as far as she could tell.

Magdalena then. Well, a bit of a simple soul. But with a heart of gold. She worked in a candy store. Where she sold all kinds of goodies to young and old. She herself was also a kind of candy store. Especially for men, but at times she was also not averse to a female.

Balthasar was a bulb-grower. Who also grew a large amount of hemp plants between his bulbs. This allowed him to serve two markets. A legal one and a somewhat less legal one.

And then there was, not to be forgotten, Veronique. She was a fortune teller by profession. That she practiced at carnivals, fairs and other occasions where this comes in handy. She had a large crystal ball for this purpose and she also handled the tarot cards with gusto. With which she made people believe everything and anything. She rarely, if ever, predicted her own fates correctly. Which however she didn’t mind. After all the unpredictability of life only made it more engaging. At least she thought so.

In short, there was something to experience with each of them in one way or another. And it must be said that they never really disappointed her. And she got along just fine with everyone. And that was mutual. At least she had that impression. And she always had a great time. With whatever. With one you could laugh, with the other just cozy to some kind of presentation or performance. With yet another you could go for a walk. There were also some with which you could just chat. And with some of them, men or women, she didn’t care, she had sex from time to time. Without further obligations or anything. It was all freedom and happiness. So what more could she want. She was very satisfied with it. For others however it was sometimes different. They wanted more in one way or another. But yeah, they just didn’t get that. Easy enough. But yes, some of them got a little tricky at times. And of course she didn’t like that. And actually it was as if something always went wrong over time. While she had no idea what the cause could be. Not she herself anyway. She was easy in everything. And she never had a problem with anything. Not with her friends anyway. With some other people, yes, but she always had a solution for that. By the way, if there was something with her friends, something that suddenly wasn’t so much fun anymore for example, she always had a solution too. That is, the problems always solved themselves naturally. Although she had no idea exactly how that went. But of course, that didn’t matter either. As long as the problem was out of the world. Then everything was completely fine again.

For example, at some point she goes for a walk with one of them. In the woods. From that moment on her memories suddenly stop. As well as her consciousness. However, the latter slowly returns when she finally returns home, often much later. Where she is shocked to find that her hands are bloodied. Or that she turns out to have a large amount of mud on her shoes. Or that her clothes are torn. She can’t remember what else might have happened. She has never heard or seen anything from her boyfriend or girlfriend since. Which only confirms her in her belief that friendship apparently means nothing. And maybe even just an illusion. It’s fun for a while and then, all of a sudden, it doesn’t have to be anymore. Did she definitely say or do something wrong. And then it’s figure it out. That’s how it goes over and over again. And she has long since given up on that. She just lives day to day. And she does see who or what comes her way. It’s just live and let live. And everyone just has to do what he or she thinks is fun. And for the rest, screw you. She’s having fun. If possible with others. And otherwise, but only. That’s just the way it is. Nothing to do about it. In any case there is nothing she can do about it. At least she wouldn’t know what. And so it was good. For her at least it was good. Very good in fact. It couldn’t be better.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FDjXeWksP4w

4. Stage fright

A singer, Mona Lisa, is preparing for a performance. She is very much looking forward to it, but at the same time feels very tense. She had been out of circulation for a while due to illness, and she would make her comeback that night. She was therefore very concerned that everything would go well. Otherwise, she thought, she might forget about a continuation of her career. She has been fairly successful as a singer for a few years. Originally she had thrown herself into the classical repertoire. With mainly songs by Mozart, Schubert and Beethoven. She then appeared in a few operas by Verdi. However she didn’t really make a name for herself and then tried it with musicals. That went a lot better. And she also managed to reach a larger audience. Finally she managed to achieve some success. Would all the effort be rewarded for once?

However the success also had a downside. She was starting to get lazy. She already had that tendency somewhat, but gradually she became lazier. And it took her more and more effort to get herself to study and rehearse. It should really go without saying. She thought. After all she had talent. What is called talent, she was just a fantastic singer. One of world class. So why did she have to make such an effort over and over again? She can remember melodies easily enough, but she has more trouble with lyrics. Because she knows that the audience usually understands little about this, she always manages to get out of it, even if she has lost part of the text for a while. She just sings something unintelligible and continues to make sure nothing is wrong.

Another thing is that she is always very nervous prior to a performance. But once she’s on stage, that’s usually over quickly. Well, maybe that was just part of it. And she had to learn to live with that. She was a diva, after all. At least she thought so. And she had to take that bit of stress into the bargain. As long as the public didn’t notice. And they would admire and applaud her.

In itself she would like to perform, but she would rather worry less beforehand. But yes, how do you do that. Good question. To which she doesn’t really have a good answer. And perhaps the main question is what weighs the heaviest. So far her need to sing in front of an audience is winning out over her nerves. And afterwards she is always happy that she did it again. In addition, she feels like she has conquered herself again. But it takes effort every time. And she has to pay for it every time.

At one point she had suddenly fallen ill. Probably a big flu. In any case she had a high fever for a while and spent whole days just in bed. And she felt tired, very, very tired. Not to say exhausted. However she now had the time to think about what she actually wanted to do next. With her life and especially with her singing career. Was all that effort worth it. She wondered. It was all well and good, but it didn’t exactly happen by itself. At least that was something that had become clear to her.

When she is well and truly better again, it turns out that her regular accompanist has arranged a performance at the local community center. Where they could give a try-out of their new program. Which mainly consists of Dutch songs. Especially covers of well-known songs from home and abroad. And where necessary translated into Dutch. Fortunately they all know the songs in their original version. And most of them she had sung before. So far, so good. And she played a home game, so to speak. In short, no cloud in the sky, you would think. Now only trying to control her nerves.

She then rehearses diligently, according to her own idea. She goes through all the songs she will perform a few times. In that respect, she didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Because there would probably be reviewers from the various magazines in the room again. Who would follow her with Argus’ eyes, Argus’ ears actually, but she wasn’t sure if that word existed. And their judgment would be harsh, but, at least she assumed, righteous. So everything had to go well. After all those guys could make and break you. And she knew from experience how merciless they could be in that. And one mistake, no matter how small, could be fatal. And then she could forget about it for the rest. That wasn’t supposed to happen to her. She now takes plenty of time to make herself as beautifully as possible. After all a diva had to look like a diva. That’s what the audience expected from her. At least she thought so. And even though she was a beauty anyway, there was always room for improvement. To be more beautiful. And look prettier.

The afternoon before the performance she is a bundle of nerves. She tries to calm herself down and encourage herself, but it doesn’t work very well. She doesn’t get it. She had never been so nervous before a performance. What’s different now. Except she’s been out for a while. When she looks in the mirror she sees that she has bags under her eyes. Undoubtedly a result of her illness. With make-up she tries to camouflage it as well as possible. The public wouldn’t judge her on this, but the critics were merciless on this point too, she knew.

First she now went through the melodies again. They weren’t hard to remember, so that all went well. Moreover she had a good accompanist, which she always had a lot of support for. So that would work. But yes, the lyrics. She usually had more trouble with that. So that she goes through it a few times with extra attention. Fortunately there was a good rhythm in it. And most of the sentences rhymed with each other too. That always provides guidance. If only she were a little less nervous. But yes, it was no different. And afterwards, if everything had gone well, she always felt completely fine again. Relieved, but above all satisfied. And the applause was always very liberating. Oh well, she just shouldn’t worry so much. It would all go well. At least that’s what she hoped.

The beginning of her performance is indeed going well. And the first song she performs is enthusiastically responded to. Which immediately calms her nerves a lot. Halfway through the second song however she suddenly lost her lyrics. All of a sudden. Even though she had rehearsed so well. At least she thought so. Fortunately she recovers quickly. She just starts the song from scratch and then it goes right all at once. The rest of the program also proceeds without further hiccups. And she gets a thunderous applause from the audience. In any case that is quite a relief.

Still she’s had enough after that. This performance may not have really failed, but in retrospect she is not satisfied with it. And in the future it just could happen that she lost her lyrics again. No, no, she couldn’t go on like this any longer. It had been beautiful. For a while. But she just couldn’t bear this any longer. She would go on to teach at the local music school. After all she had a teaching qualification. And she got along well with children and young people. So that would all work out. At least she hoped. And of course she just remained a vedette. A world-class singer. A top talent. But no matter how she tried to convince herself of this, the fact was just there. Her singing career was over.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tVFvJcyhzg

5. Know what you want

Jean-Jacques is a man of thirty-two. He has a good job as an investment advisor at a bank, with a very generous salary. He lives in a beautiful big house surrounded by a garden. For the household he employs a housekeeper and for the maintenance of the garden he regularly has a gardener come. He has groceries delivered to his home and his housekeeper is also a good cook. In short, he had nothing to complain about materially. And he didn’t. In fact he should be a satisfied and happy person. In the field of love however it just didn’t work out. Although he regularly dated a variety of nice women and had affairs from time to time, he still hadn’t found the true one. What perhaps contributed to this was that he didn’t really know what he wanted. Every time he had something with a woman, doubt struck in no time. Yes, he could doubt like no other.

For his work that was an advantage. Although, perhaps also a disadvantage. Well, who’s to say. He can live well with it himself. And in any case living well from it.

‘How nice that I have you on the phone. Buy or sell? What you say. Not at the same time. It’s one or the other. And rates can rise and rates can fall. Not at the same time.’ And so he debits one wisdom after another. Well, wisdom. Because as will be common knowledge by now, an advisor is someone who doesn’t know it either.

‘What’s important is timing. Not too early, but certainly not too late either. Excuse me? So what’s the right time? Well, the right time to buy is right before the rate starts to rise. And the right time to sell is right before the rate goes down. How do you find out? For example, by following the news. Or by consulting an advisor. Or by simply going by your gut. And the latter I would like to advise you in this case. Yes? You’re welcome. And have a nice day.’

In short, he was an expert in his profession. But yes, love. That was a whole other story. For example he once had an appointment with Brigitte, a woman of twenty-eight. And it soon turned out that she was in love with him. But was he it on her? Could be. But couldn’t be either. He just didn’t know. How did he find out.

Maybe he should ask himself questions. And then see if he could come up with answers. What about her creditworthiness for example. Would he give her a mortgage? Well, maybe so. But maybe not. She was kind of in the middle category in that regard. Not impecunious, but not much more than that. Hm, tricky. And if he were to marry her, would it be in community of property? Or would you rather have a prenuptial agreement? Another difficult question. On the one hand he leaned towards a prenuptial agreement. But on the other hand, of course, that also meant a kind of distrust. Again something like on the one hand, on the other hand. It’s not that simple. And would he advise her to buy shares? Or was she better off opening a regular savings account? All of this had its advantages on the one hand and its disadvantages on the other.

‘What are you thinking about?’ she asks.

‘Oh, nothing special,’ he says, ‘or, well, actually I was thinking about you.’

‘I just sit here,’ she says, in a slightly surprised tone.

With Brigitte it ended up being nothing. Well, luckily there were more women in the world.

But women weren’t the only thing he had his doubts about. For example what did he want with the rest of his life? And what did he want once he was well and truly dead? Did he want to be buried? Or would he rather be cremated? And who would pay for that? Because of course both came with a price tag. But hey, that wasn’t his concern anymore. But he had to think about it in advance. Otherwise he would soon be at the mercy of the pagans. Or was it the Turks? Hopefully not. Because then he was really in a fine pickle. In any case it would be too late. How many things a person had to think about in his life. Maybe he should hire an accountant. Who could keep track of all that for him. Or was it better to take a notary for that? Another question he didn’t have an answer to so soon.

By now it was almost dinner time. His housekeeper, the bustling Martha, would be on the doorstep in a moment. So he had to think about what he would like to eat. Brussels sprouts perhaps? No, he had already had one last week. Maybe something with beans. But yes, what kind of beans. Kidney beans? Or white beans? Of course both were also possible. Yes, let him do that. And then a nice ball of minced meat. Or rather a steak? Of course both were also possible. Then he didn’t have to choose. Which made life a little easier. He stares out thoughtlessly for a while. And overlooks his garden, which is again beautiful. How well it is taken care of. He himself is also well cared of. And he had taken care of that himself. Yes, he had his affairs pretty well done in that regard.

Then he suddenly gets an idea. A bright idea. At least he thinks so himself. Why wouldn’t he propose to her? He wasn’t in love with her, but it would make his life a lot simpler. After Martha arrived he made his wishes for the food known and she went to work. He now followed her doings with more interest than usual. Would it be her? He couldn’t quite imagine it yet. Of course he had to ask her first. And then she had to say yes. But why wouldn’t she. After all she could do worse. Wasn’t it? Yes right?

The more he looked at her and the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that she was the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. And for the first time in his life, as far as he could remember, he finally knew something for sure. Yes, no doubt about it. It was just her. Only, yes, how did he go about it? He had never had this on hand before. He had no experience in this area either. And no one had ever told him. So he was on his own. And he would have to improvise. Which he certainly wasn’t used to. What was he supposed to do? For others he always knew. After all he was an advisor for a reason. But now he had to advise himself, as it were. About something he didn’t know about at all. Or should he just go by his gut? He never really did that otherwise. And he wasn’t sure how to do that either. Going by your gut. Maybe he just had to take the plunge. Taking the bull by the horns. Just throw the bat in the fowl loft. And then see how the ball rolls.

After much hesitation he finally asks if she wants to marry him. Which embarrasses her for a moment. Now it’s her turn to hesitate. She takes a deep breath and then says she feels very honored. But that she has to say no. She already has a girlfriend...

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