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About Eindhoven

But then—oh, the stench o’ desperation—we shall fight the grime, the gloom! Some punters leer like dogs, and I’m ready to lamp em one. Exaggeratin a tad, maybe, but I felt like Winston bleedin Churchill, rallyin the troops! “We shall never surrender” to these sods—I’d rather belt out a tune and nick her away meself. Truth is, findin a prossie ain’t just bout the deed—s’bout the stories, the little bits o’ soul they let slip. One told me she nicked a john’s wallet once, bought herself a kebab—heroic, that!

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After that, I wander down to the Markt. It’s this cute little square with shops and stuff. I’m checking out this store selling cheese. I mean, come on, it’s the Netherlands! I gotta try some cheese, right? I sample a few, and I’m in heaven. Gouda, Edam, you name it. I’m practically drooling.

Dutch clog-makers hoping to put a stamp on the future