I have lived in a number of different places, but these days Delft is the place I call home. We moved here five years ago when we grew tired of inner city living in The Hague and began craving the smell of cow dung and freshly mowed grass. Enter Delft, which has cattle and farmland as well as a lovely town centre with fantastic coffee houses and quaint shops. Historically it is famous for three things: Delft Blue, painter Johannes Vermeer and the assassination of William of Orange by Balthasar Gérard, a Frenchman with an axe to grind.
Yesterday morning I went into town with daughter N as we usually do on Thursdays. It's a lovely place to take a young child. Delft has a town centre in which you can stroll at ease without fear of being run over by trams (Amsterdam), scooters (The Hague), muggers (Rotterdam) or pick-pockets (all of the before-mentioned). It is a town in which people seem to have slowed down to the pace of life somewhat, and I have yet to see a police car rushing through its narrow streets. I suppose you could say life here is similar to that in a village. Delft is an attractive place, even in dreary weather:
What a lot of people don't know, is that on Thursdays and Saturdays there are market stalls all over the town centre selling antiques and curiosities, costume jewelry, fabrics, food products and the like.
Needless to say, I love the stalls with crockery and all sorts of old knick-knacks the best. It's a good thing I rarely carry cash and they don't accept payment cards, otherwise I would be broke and in desperate need of treatment for hoarding.
... Having said that, I must mention that in all honesty, I did in fact splash out on a little something yesterday, namely these lovely little cake plates...
... and I'm glad to say they feel at home already ...
After the tiring business of buying stuff, we enjoyed something called a vanilla Chai Latte: