So close and yet so far

Last week I spent two days in Amsterdam.
I had a long and interisting talk with Aidan Chambers, about his new novel This is all.
I saw a glimpse of the proofs of the new and very intriguing book of Ted van Lieshout.
I enjoyed the panoramic view on the seventh floor of the Oba, the new Amsterdam library.
I got annoyed by the uninspired speech of the head of the Oba.
I enjoyed the sparkling interview Edward van de Vendel had with Aidan Chambers.
I drank nice wine, talked to old acquaintances and new people.
I slept in a house full of memories.
I read letters of Lytton Strachey.
I had breakfast with a precious friend.
I walked along the canals in the brisk morning air.
I had a long talk with Marit Törnqvist on her memories of Astrid Lindgren.
I went for a stroll in the nine streets.
I ate pasta and a nice salad in La Ruche and wondered about so much healthy food in a selfservice restaurant.
I walked through the Bijenkorf, saw beautiful things but did not like the thought of an even heavier case.
I bought nice chocolates.
I went for another walk alongside the canal.
I did not go to the Rijksmuseum to take a look at my favourite Rembrandt.
I did not visit Athenaeum.
I did not have dinner a meal with a beloved friend at Prego's.
I did not buy a cake at Pompadour's.
I did not have a walk in the Jordaan, looking for a nice place to eat.
I did not visit the English Bookshop.
I did not have dinner at Toscanini's.
I did not buy beautiful paper, notebooks and diaries at Cortina's.
I did not visit bookshop Vrolijk.
I did not look for beautiful old stuff at the Noordermarkt.
I have to go back.
I have to.