The tiny baby Emil has now grown to be the most beautiful and ondeunde little boy. He was three years old in April, and in three days time it will be three years since the tragedy of his mummy dying in a car crash. They came to visit with me this past week-end, and both the boys just love it here. Andreas, the ten year old cries every time they have to leave. I think it is just the freeedom of movement that they have here, as Andreas brings his bicycle with, and he and Sheila's grandsons are cruising the dusty Haarlem roads all week-end long. The little one has to be watched all the time, because he can crawl through the gate, and when he sees an animal outside grazing, as the animals here do, he sneaks away and runs after them.
But life here is getting just a bit uncomfortable. A few days ago,  at 9.30 on the Saturday night, I was sitting at my computer, which is in my bedroom, and right behind the door, when there was a kind of a timid knock on the door. I sat listening, thinking that it was the wind rattling the door, but then there was another knock, this time a bit louder, and by this time I was suspicious, and just a bitty afraid. When a third knock, this time a lot louder came, I raised my voice to a nice level, and shouted that who-ever was out there, better run and run fast, as I was getting my gun ready. I did run for my safe to get the gun. It was pitch dark outside, and as my house was surrounded by trees and shrubs, I couldn't see anybody, so I switched on all the lights, then tried to phone the police, but as things are here, the two on night duty must have been at the shebeen, or fast asleep. I heard from Berty, the woman who was nanny to little Emil, and from some other people, that the police join into the fun at the shebeens. A shebeen is an illegal place mainly for drinking, and there are some pretty horrible stories about under age young girls getting drunk and raped.
I went back to bed at about two in the morning, but sleep just would not come. My house is quite secure, with safety doors to every entrance, and thick safety bars in front of the windows, so coming in would be difficult, but as the saying goes, where there's a will, there's a way!
My scalp however crawled when Joy went to the municipality a few days later, and was told that someone was murdered some days ago. I have written in one of my blogs about mad Larry, who sleeps in his one roomed house, a large enough shed, with all his animals, including two pigs, safely locked up with him. Well, it was mad Larry that was beaten to death with a hammer, and mad Larry's house was next to Sheila, who is my next door neigbour!
This time of year Haarlem is teeming with pickers from all over, and there are always a lot of break-ins when they are around, and as soon as they leave, things go quiet again, with still some break-ins, but not half as bad! Poor old mad Larry must have opened his door to one of them, as he was never seen after dark, as when dusk falls, like me, he locked himself and his animals in. I am still getting quite shivery thinking about that knocks on my door. Now my children are all nagging me to go back to the city, but I just can't even think about being cooped up in a small yard, maybe in a flat.