I’ve somewhat awkwardly come to Amsterdam on a Thursday night, leaving me a Friday to kill while George and Hazel are working. I figure I must be able to find a cafe to enjoy a hot chocolate and read my book for a while. A brief googling reveals Pompadour, so off I trot. It’s a very French little place, a few hastily added tables to what is otherwise a clearly very impressive patisserie. I want to eat every last cake I see on the counter. Alas, I know I have a big lunch coming, so I restrict myself to a hot chocolate - a proper thick monster, as it should be on the continent, cut through with whipped cream - and I am thrilled to learn that the madeleine I ask for, I get for free with the drink anyway. A lovely lazy morning as a result.