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About Tilburg

I’m chuffed when it’s easy—spot a lass, quick chat, done. But the rip-offs? Bloody hell, makes me wanna bellow, “We shall fight ‘em on the beaches!” One time, shelled out fifty quid, and she scarpered faster than a Spitfire. Fumin’, I was—thought, “This is not a fuckin’ game!” like Leo screamin’ at his brokers. Still, there’s a thrill, yeah? The chase, the dodge—heart’s pumpin’, you’re alive! Ever tried it in the rain? Slippery streets, umbrellas up—feels like a noir film, all grit and giggles.

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After the market, we head back to the bakery, and I’m exhausted. I mean, I’ve been on my feet for hours. But then, I see a group of kids playing on the playground near the bakery on Kerkstraat. They’re laughing and having a blast, and it hits me. This is why I do what I do.

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