Well, our annual pilgrimage to Amsterdam for my birthday is over, and another lovely time was had by all. But this time there was quite a strange change afoot.
For Amsterdam, home of the happy cafe, the king-size spliff, the herbal whiff in the air, has introduced a smoking ban!
Not just any old smoking ban, either, not a British-style smoking ban where every busybody is poised on the edge of their seat just to shop you, nor a Spanish style ban where all the signs are up but everyone carries on smoking regardless. No, this is a smoking ban where it is illegal to consume tobacco in a licensed premises, but not marijuana... Apparently, officials have the right to test your joint to make sure it is pure weed - bureaucracy beyond Kafka's dreams!
So imagine the scene as the hairy baggy student types with badly-rolled homegrowns in their hands stare glassy-eyed at you through the windows, and all the polite queens huddle together outside trying to light their Dunhill or Superkings. The locals were thoroughly pissed off, as you might imagine.
Amsterdam prides itself on its laid-back attitudes. Traditional Dutch gay bars are used to building up an atmosphere through their happy hours and oom-pah music sing-alongs. But this is obviously difficult to achieve once sixty percent of the punters are actually outside - less dancing, less singing, and generally less drinking too (well if you're not sat at the bar, you aren't buying drinks!).
Nevertheless, being used to Nanny State Britain we didn't let it spoil our fun! People-watching at the canal bars by day, enjoying the camp music in the bars every evening, and the cruisy late nights - bliss!!
If I won the lottery tomorrow, I'd live there...
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