If you, like me, enjoyed rocking the many studded belts and fingerless gloves when you were in your teens, then fear not – you're in a safe place now. There aren't any judgements here – we've all been through that phase and somehow emerged a little more colourful in one way or another. That's not to say we don't miss those days where jet-black eyeliner and red skinny jeans were the in-thing, though. Heck, even after a decade I still miss that style. I'd even rock it today if it weren't for my Dad bod and lack of trust in tight denim.
I carry with me a very heavy heart as I spill these saddening words out on to a page. As I type this story with my two-year-old daughter sitting close by smiling gleefully, oblivious to the corrupt world outside of our home, I feel a grieving pain in my chest.
Why is it we remember the insults more than the compliments? I don't know – something about that sort of sucks. Even when we might receive a dozen compliments over a short space of time and a single insult months prior – it's the insult that gels and stands above all else. And those few compliments? Damn – they're never enough to make us forget about that one rude remark.
Shots. Does anybody really like them? Sure, you and your mates may brag about your addiction to them on a night out — but we all know it's a lie. Because, the truth is — shots aren't that nice. Shots are, in fact, just quick slams to get you on your way and into the next bar before your system realises what you're doing.
The Netherlands and cannabis has always shared a rather passionate relationship ever since 1972. That's when the powers that be decided cannabis for recreational use within certain areas was generally okay, and, in response – decriminalised. However, Amsterdam and the surrounding areas still prohibit quantities of over five grams of more. So, if you're caught trying to bring anything more than this around with you – you will be prosecuted. Unfortunately, that's something a lot of non-European tourists fail to notice in the guide on the first visit.
Our home – our sanctuary; burnt selfishly by one