Winging and Praying

Shaving beside some friendly dutchperson first thing, engaging in the usual conversation - oh you’re from Schottland etc etc, this chap announces he’s here at a ‘conference’. Indeed. Actually, some gathering of Christian bods of various stripes. And then he told me that they pray for the sick, to which I laughingly replied that one of our number is not at all weel. Mis-take! He wants to pray for MrT, no no please don’t, he’s soldiering away quite well thanks.
Later, as we sit finishing our coffees about to pack our tents, I espy said Dutchman and wife, heading our way with measured stride. Egad. Errr Steve... see this bloke coming over.... I errr... I think he’d like to pray for you (*honestly I was just humouring him, I never thought for a moment..* )
Anyway, MrT reacted politely and stoically wellwhile I tried to avoid Frank’s eye. We escaped without a prayer.
Ten miles out of town, MrT’s back tyre suddenly deflated. Just sayin.
So, a fine cycle to Amsterdam, along the north side of the Gooimeer. And having never seen any Dutch police, I was unlucky enough to cycle into two in an apparently no cycling zone in Almere Haven. Stupid tourist mistake.
Amsterdam- to the Windmill Brouwerij. Except looking around as the tram pulled away, there were only three of us. There was MrT searching for his ticket to swipe out behind the closed doors. I think I may pray for him today, wherever he is.