You get to a stage in a language where it doesn’t matter if you don’t understand each and every word. You reach the threshold for whatever use you are making of the language, whether it be to chat, to read instructions, understand the news or plunge into a novel.

Leaves are falling just like embers from the tree outside my window; in colours red and gold they fire the autumn light. Not very original, but it's time to capture the glory of autumn while it lasts. You may think we're having an Indian summer but in fact het is al herfst - it's already autumn. (Sorry if it's raining when you read this: wishful thinking at the time of writing.)

The little rectangles that look like Polish flags are a bit like the markers made by tramps: they show the way and give help to those in the know. Every sizeable town has these inconspicuous red and white stripes on lamp posts and litter bins; in the countryside you’ll find them on trees and fenceposts.

Have you heard the one about the three bouwvakkers – construction workers? The classic opening for een mop – a joke – but not something I have the gift for telling face to face. I usually get the parts in the wrong order and end up having to laugh the loudest to cover my confusion. So that’s why I’m trying it out on paper.