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Antony Anderson.

June 13, 2009

I was in an outdoor onsen in Holland. I was waiting there for Andrew A who should have been turning up any minute now. When he did show I hardly recognised him; with a slightly bigger build, more wrinkles and a receding hairline, he didn’t look much like what he used to. “Antony?” I asked. He laughed, “It’s Andrew.” “I know,” I said. It was really good to see him. What had it been? 5 years?
We went for a drive along the water front. It was really stormy, there were no rail-guards, and the water kept splashing up onto the road. It was quite scary and we both thought we would end up in the water. There were still surfers even though it was dangerous weather.
We came to a hotel with a nice view over the town. The houses looked like bright, multi-colourful waffles, and big lego pieces. I mentioned that I never thought Holland would look like this. I really wanted to talk for a long time with just Andrew, but his parents were there too and we had to entertain them. His dad kept talking about cassettes.

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