Anyway, at 11.05 we sat for the MT. At 11.06, we’re all in the kitchen fixing coffee. The coffee machine is partially broken and so no longer dispenses two cups at once. Just one cup at once which compounds irritation if you are the type prone to it. At 11.15 we’re seated once more and the door is closed.
Feeling smug that we’ve cobbled together a punchy little agenda by 11.40, we start with the first item – the august body known as the Rent Commission (Huurcommissie in Dutch) and another case that could have dire consequences for us and, if not dire, then at least very expensive. Frank runs through the highlights that seem to amount to an unfathomable series of lapses on our side and, frankly Frank, we deserve all we get. Me, Frank, Klaas and Marcus fall silent. So depressed are we by the prospect of sorting out this case (it resembles a pile of spaghetti dropped from a tall building onto a flock of flamingos coming into land) that we cannot think of anything – encouraging or not – to say about, well, anything. We sip brews in monastic contemplation. 12.05 –