Wow! What a great day! The train from Düsseldorf to Breda in the Netherlands. After check-in at the hotel (don’t ask!), off Schatz (a natural brunette) and I headed into Breda town centre. Our taxi driver asked me in fluent English:
I presume you are here for the Redhead Festival?
A jolly clever chap.
The Grote Markt. Scores of marquees. Redheads – hundreds of ’em! The first I see is Alan, an Irishman, standing outside O’Meara’s Irish bar. We pose for a photo and shake hands. We stroll round the Grote Markt. Locals constantly smile to me and greet me. I pick up an information pack, including timetable, event newspaper and adhesive England flag.
Further strolling. Off to round the corner, where I find the merchandise marquee, as well as all the food concessions and stage. I buy a hoodie and t-shirt. It has to be done. The hoodie is very warm and ideal for the cloudy, overcast weather. Off to watch the singing on stage. Maria from Moscow is singing. She’s good. Later on I chat to her in Russian. This morning she recognised me at the train station when Schatz and I were heading off back to DUS. I bought her CD, as it including Moscow Nights, one of my favourites.
More strolling round the park. More marquees and events. I decide I can spontaneously chat to anyone without needing a table to do that. Yet more friendly people, including a blonde with “I AM NOT A REDHEAD” painted on her face. Hey, some are called, few are chosen…
I never knew so many Germans and Dutch were redheads. Schatz and I even met a redheaded woman from Hamburg, the blondest of German regions. Wonders will never cease…
Have a ginger day, won’t you!