“Vedett, I hate you!” I should’ve expressed my feelings instead of holding back and saying nothing. Beer can be like a dog at times: man’s best friend. But I guess having too many dogs isn’t good for anyone either. As the evening progressed, my stomach turned into what I could call a kennel. Too many puppies. Or bottles of Vedett. Whatever. I lost count, lost the friends I was with and I lost reason as well. A beer coaster at Cul de Sac suddenly told me how I felt. Translated: please talk to me. I felt lonely!

People were talking to their friends and I didn’t want to intrude. Again, I should’ve expressed my feelings. Again, I didn’t. After yet another Vedett I left to go home. The urge to talk to someone remained… I got on my bicycle when I noticed the posters again. Inside Out Tilburg. Over 1,000 mothers hanging around town. Adding one and one soon gave me a conclusion. If those moms were just hanging around, then they probably didn’t have too much to do. I got off my bike again.

“Hello, somebody else’s mother. How have you been today? Did you get a lot of people staring at you?”

“…..”

The silence was overwhelming. I didn’t put me off though. Usually I walk away if people give me the impression that they don’t want to talk. Vedett seemed to make me more courageous and persistent.

“Does your husband know you spend your time in town at this late hour? Have you considered the risks you’re taking? Someone might pee on you. Or worse. Someone might like you a little too much and try something you wouldn’t want them to. Where would you go, being stuck here?”

“……..”

“Now that we’re talking… I have a practical question. I spilledchocolate on my pants the other day. Any idea what the best way is to get rid of the ugly stain? Also, now that we’re talking, can you tell me how to bake a cake that won’t collapse? I can’t seem to make it work. And then there’s the question I have about the lines on my windows after I cleaned them…

“…….”

I went on for a while, until I ran out of things to talk about. Suddenly I felt really tired. Somebody else’s mom made me feel comfortable so I sat down right next to her. Of course, I didn’t take more than half a minute for me to fall asleep. I woke up a couple of hours later and saw a wet spot on the poster. I drooled on somebody else’s mom in my sleep…

- The Spying Glass is written by Miel Blok, and serves as a magnifying glass on some of the trivial affairs of Incubate.  If -in any case-  you’d like to contact Miel you can via Twitter or check out his site hetschrijfblok.nl (Dutch)