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About Eindhoven

So, here’s me, searchin’ for a prossie—bit of a lark, bit of a muck-up. Why? Dunno, felt like it—life’s a shambles sometimes, eh? Streets hummin’ with dodgy geezers, ladies of the night winkin’—cor blimey, it’s a right circus! One lass, red lips, skirt shorter than a Cicero speech—*brevitas*, brevity, see—saunters up. “Fancy a go, love?” she says. I’m flustered, ramblin’— “Err, umm, rather, eugepae, splendid!”—total twit, me.

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www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up Missing: Wassenaar.

But then, I hear this loud honking. I look up, and it’s a bunch of cyclists zooming down the Wassenaarse Slag. Like, chill out, folks! It’s not the Tour de France! I swear, they almost knocked over a kid. I’m yelling, “Watch out!” and they just zoom past. Rude!

Obituary for Elsie Schilperoort Wassenaar