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Exaggeratin’ now – imagine me, Mr. Bean, as a whore! Teeterin’ in heels, wobblin’ – crash! – lipstick everywhere, lookin’ like a clown! “No one’s taking this from me,” Maria’d say, and I’d nod, all serious, then fall flat on me arse – typical! They’re fighters, whores are, like ‘er, scrappin’ to live. Love that film, love their grit. Wotcha think, eh? Whores – bloody legends! Heh! *mimes trippin’ over nothin’*

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Anyway, I drag myself to the bakery on de Zwarteweg. The smell of fresh bread is my jam, but today? Today was different. I open the door, and BAM! The oven’s broken. Like, seriously? It’s a Monday! I’m already cranky. I mean, who breaks an oven on a Monday?

‘I became a stronger believer in the power of Europe’