On the topic of windmills …

I realised that you soon become desensitised to what is around you when you see it all the time.  For example, in Australia people queue up to see a koala and cuddle it, where you can only think of the abysmal noise a sex deprived male koala makes when it's searching for a mate – and the fact they have a unique odour of eucalyptus and urine. Don't believe me about the noise? Click here for an example. Yes, you really can Youtube anything. ( It think what is more awkward is the number of koala porn movies I had to go through to get one that didn't have a japanese commentary or some random Australian guy going 'YEAH! Give it to her, mate!')

Here, it's windmills.  I can actually remember the first windmill I saw (cruising down the Polderbaan on my way to the terminal, outside the window) and I can remember my little squeal of delight at actually seeing a proper Dutch windmill.  OMG! A Windmill … A WINDMILL!!!!  Mesmerised, you watch it turn, your mind is on overload because it's a WINDMILL … IN HOLLAND!  You take rolls of film of the same one, all different angles, different lights, try to catch a duck or swan swimming by …

Looking casual … just me and my windmill friends …

Slowly, you become a bit more casual about it all.  Windmills are not that exciting – it's just another part of life here. "Oh yeah, there's a windmill I haven't seen before.  Yeah, that one has a reed roof, not a tiled one. Meh, not as pretty as the one at *insert location here*"  You're becoming an expert in styles, so you know about the fact there's different ones for grinding grain, or moving water off the polders.  Your thrill at seeing them isn't quite so big anymore. You admire them for the service they once provided to the country – keeping our feet dry!

It's a headless windmill! OMG!

After living here for a little longer, you become immune.  After all, it's just another building.  In the middle of a cow paddock … usually by a canal (unless, as earlier stated, it's one for grinding grain.)  Your indifference builds to the point where you can't even seem to take a photograph without a bloody windmill in the way (10 points if you've screamed at one for being in the way of a photograph!) Slowly but surely, you've lost the magic that windmills hold for you.  They really are just part of the countryside.  That's it.

Total windmill photobombing (Right hand side) … those pesky attention seekers.

So whilst my feelings on windmills has slowly, but surely changed, I can assure you – there is nothing, NOTHING that will ever change my love of giant, oversized novelty clogs.