Tomorrow, the 17th of June, we head to London via train and Eurostar. Yesterday, we visited the gardens of Amsterdam (tuinendag). It rained at times, sometimes hard, but we visited all apart from the gardens of the three museums near us. Near exhaustion by the conclusion, we could not remember once again where to find Amnesia so ended up in Barney’s Farm where Frederick made us two double cappucini.

It is turning out to be an expensive year of loss for us. When we returned to Amsterdam at the start of the year, I learned that my Neo-Hittite goddess statue is missing. By the end of the month, I booked us an apartment in Rome for four months over the winter – through VRBO Vacation Rentals and RIA Vacation Rental – and paid in full. Within the last week, I have learned that the listed photos of the flat have changed, and that the booking calendar only indicated the apartment has reserved for December, January and February and not March. I tried to inquire, and the RIA email is no longer valid. VRBO has washed its hands of the whole thing and says that they do not get involved with transactions between renters and owners. They sent me two phone numbers for the owner and manager in Italy, but both numbers proved to be invalid. Meanwhile, Stef contacted a Dorian Walter of Luxor Estate through the listed site before VRBO removed it altogether and has learned that the flat is available in the month of March and its owner is now named as Manuel Cortel Baraza in Madrid whereas for me it was Ravi A. Nagare in London. As mammoth a financial loss as this is, however, it fades into insignificance when I compare it to the devaluation of my IRA account with Morgan Stanley Smith Barney.

Begrudgingly, we are coming to terms with accepting the loss and seeing the whole affair as one more necessary learning lesson. In that way it becomes a gift – a painful one but a gift no less. Our long pilgrimage to Rome no longer appears to be reaching fulfilment and completion this winter, and we are thinking now of other alternatives.

We learned from Warren a few days ago that Chloe’s graduation was the next day. I know little more, but my daughter has finished drama school (Dartington). I am looking forward to seeing her in London.

The return from Paris in May found us immersed into a wonderful hot spell in Amsterdam and the ability to have dinner and drinks outside in front of the house. Jay arrived the day following our return and not two days later as had been expected. That night Richard and I had dinner with Fred and Vicky. One day with Jay we borrowed Warren’s car and drove to the Kroller-Müller Museum. While the Van Gogh works are increasingly incredible, I think I was most impressed with Cranach the Elder’s Venus and Amore as the Honey Thief. The museum and its setting as a whole are among the best of anywhere, and the weather was perfect for us. Afterwards we drove into Arnhem and found where Richard had formerly lived and worked.

Amy, Jose and Lucia arrived a couple of days later on Pentecost Sunday. The margaritas I had made for the occasion poured out of the cocktail shaker when I had put it in the freezer. Emergency negronis were the replacement after I discovered that I had no more tequila and could not get any more until when shops re-opened the following Tuesday. The previous evening Jim along with Carlo and Jean-Christophe joined us for dinner; we were nine altogether. Another night Jay cooked the dinner meal; Jose on yet another still. And after Jay left for Paris and two days later Amy, Jose and darling 17-month old Lucia for the UK, we went with Stephan and Koen to Michael and Pierre’s for a sumptuous and delicious Mexican dinner and ample margaritas.

One night alone at home by ourselves we watched Dial M for Murder. Beyond that it has been the Holland Festival. One night at the Muziekgebouw, we enjoyed a concert of Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony, Shostakovitch’s First Cello Concerto and his Ninth Symphony plus Schnittke’s Moz-Art á la Haydn. Our last night at the same venue was a concert of Arvo Pärt’s Tabula Rasa, the world premier of Toivo Tulev’s Return to the Beginning and Alfred Schnittke’s Concerto Grosso no. 1. Previous to this last we enjoyed both Robin de Raaff’s Waiting for Miss Monroe  at the Stadsschouwburg with Laura Aikin in the lead role – an excellent creation – and Darius La Creation du Monde ballet at the Muziektheater which was beyond mesmerising and utterly enchanting and haunting.

We have had an evening meal out with Jean-Christophe at the Tibetan Restaurant and another night at home when Jim came for dinner. The weather changed, and it has since been substantially cooler and a lot wetter. One day the electricity went out, another the water, and for several the TV, internet and telephone. At times it felt as if we were living now in a third world country. Gary wrote to tell me that Jean Fenton had passed. She was the widow of my former art professor at UCSB, Howard. They were both world travellers and had a perfect sense of beauty and for enchantment in how they lived life. I learned much from them.

For the rest it has been dealing with insurance, the rental agency and packing – and the sadness of leaving Amsterdam. I did at least somehow manage to complete my manuscript on “Divine Incest.”