So then, the Bride has two watches, one for in the lottie and another for home and out-and-about. The batteries ran out on both of them on the same day...what are the chances. Well, you can do without one while at home, but one gets in the habit of looking at their wrist from time to time, for no apparent reason. It’s then that you miss your watch. Finally, after a few disappointments, you feel compelled to get it fixed. Now, we. Have an agreement among ourselves that we do not go out and knock-around in town or in stores unless it is necessary. It could be argued that pensionados do not really NEED to know what time it is at any given time. You could sort of call a time-out, in a manner of speaking, right. I would be the first to agree with this premise, in fact I rarely wear watches. I told myself that when I stopped working, I would end my association with timepieces—watches, alarm clocks, grandfather clocks, sun dials...the whole range, personally, I feel that interrupting one’s life flow is abnormal and not natural. Oké, before you form the opinion that I am a complete flake (or is it too late for that?), let me just say that all this big talk was kept securely swept and hidden under the rug for my productive life. It was there, but every day I got up at some ungodly hour to go to work or keep an appointment, it snuck into my mind, didn’t it. All these anti-time thoughts...and yet life revolves around the tea times that segment the days, eating times, telly show schedules...tja, the more I think about it, the more times I can come up with. It seems as though I am just fooling myself, fooling myself all the time.—there’s that word again. To correct my Bride’ suspended time conundrum, we decided to just don the masks and head out to a jeweller in a near-by village and let the chap change the batteries. The Bride took the time to remove the watch and wash the band, explaining that she wasn’t presenting the watch personnel with dirty bands. Everything went well except when she returned to the auto, Mickey was lying sideways. Whoops! Back in. Somehow Mickey had become dislodged during the battery replacement. Right then, he would re-glue Mickey and we could pick it up tomorrow. It needed time to dry properly before wearing, and so there was no time today left today, you see. We were out anyway, so why not head out to the dike and drive back home that way. We headed out to the Provincial highway to drive to another village, Schellinkhout (Skellinkhout in West-Fries). In the centre of the village is the old church, and if you drive up the dike, cross the narrow dike road...you can then drive down the other side to a nice green area with some paved areas for parking. There is a small man-made beach. Kite surfers and sun bathers go there especially in the summer. This time of year, there are folks who bring their dogs there to walk along the edge of the old Zuider Zee. We walked here and there and finally ended up on a memorial bench, looking out to sea. It was not a sunny day, but it was a day with its own charm. There are layers, but they are all grey. The Bride took this shot. Those are geese on the foreground, and the little boat there in the distance had just finished checking his eel nets and was tuffing back in the direction of our harbour. After a while we were getting cold. It wasn’t windy but it was a moist type of coldness that just penetrates the clothing. Burrrrr. Schellinkhout is an agricultural village of about 900 inhabitants. There was a bloke that developed an apple and called it a “Schellinkhouter”. We have one of these trees in our lottie. Can you see where I’m going with this? There on the banks of the Zuider Zee, I was being called. Called from afar...about three kilometres afar. Our home. It was tea time, don’t you know. There it is once again. Time to pack-in and be away.. The last of the apple crumble and vla, warmed up ready for consumption. Truth be known, I am a willing slave to the tea time schedule. Wish you guys were here.