Kobe the Owl was Tholen's oldest and most respected notary public. His name was, in fact, Kobe Kettelman and he was half Jewish but everyone called him Owl. Because one day, just as he was cycling through the forest to the Chamber of Commerce to set up his first practice, an owlet fell from the tree exactly on Mr Kettelman's head. The young notary later said it was a special sign and so named his business the Owl. The name has stuck ever since. He himself, however, was never seen in the woods again. For twenty-five years, he had spent entire days in his little office on Mollenweg, which he left only on extraordinary occasions.

Now, indeed, this honourable gentleman stood at the door of house number thirteen in Hoogstraat, sweating in the morning sun, pressing the doorbell for the tenth time.

‘Anna, how big you've grown!’ heard Jeroen as the door finally opened.

Hurried footsteps followed and Kobe the Owl himself appeared in the living room.

‘Trudde! For heaven's sake! I don't believe my eyes! As soon as I heard...’

‘Good morning Kobe,’ Gertrude interrupted the tirade with a telling look. ’Please sit down. We will chat later, but we don't have time now.’

‘Is it so far?’ asked the notary and turned pale. ‘Oh, my Lord,’ he plopped down in the chair and grabbed his handkerchief to dry his sweaty forehead.

‘Fine,’ said Gertrude. ‘Fine, we are all finally gathered. Mr Baaij - Mr Owl, but I believe you already know each other,’ Jeroen and Kobe nodded in sync. ’In that case Mr Owl, would you be so kind as to prepare the contract between Mr Baaij and me for buying this house? Anna, dear, would you please make us a cup of tea?’

Englishman Richard jumped off the chair to follow Anna to the kitchen and Jeroen got a strange feeling, that the dog was bigger, than he looked. Intrigued, he stood up to accompany Anna, but Gertrude looked sternly at him and shook her head.

‘She's a handy child, Mr Baaij, don't worry. Now to business.’

‘To business!’ exclaimed the notary, shining with pleasure, ‘I made the contract yesterday, now just a few details. Jeroen's information and so on...’

He took a stack of papers from his suitcase.

‘You are well prepared!’ exclaimed Jeroen.

‘The secret of good business, Mr Baaij,’ Kobe the Owl replied with a satisfied smile, ‘is to always oversee the situation and be one step ahead of the customer. Preparation is the basis of a successful business. May I please have your documents?’

He grabbed his pen and plunged into what gave him true pleasure - a realm of letters, rules, small additions and legal provisions. Gertrude and Jeroen talked, he wrote it down and everything went smoothly. When they were almost done, Anna appeared with divinely scented tea in crockery cups Jeroen had inherited from his parents and small sandwiches with strawberry jam. Jeroen had bought it from the little shop near the mill last Saturday.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

‘What a day,’ spoke Kobe the Owl, gleaming like a gold coin, and took a sip. ‘What a beautiful case. It's almost like music! If you sign it now, I'll make sure that the money goes straight into your account, Mr Baaij, and then everything will be complete. What a beautiful case,' he squeezed his eyes shut with pleasure, enjoying the beauty that only he was aware of.

‘Where do I sign?’ asked Jeroen, looking at the papers with hesitation.

Everything going on in his house this morning did not fit the usual pattern. The thought that he would have to leave his home very soon seemed very strange to him, although he had been dreaming of this day for several years.

‘Here,’ the notary pressed his finger pontifically against the empty field.

Quickly, before anything else could happen, Jeroen put his signature.

‘Now You, Mrs Jansen,’ he passed the pen.

‘Thanks, but I have my own,’ the old lady refused.

Then she opened her bag and, much to Jeroen's surprise, she pulled out a very old and incredibly well made ink pen with a small bottle of blue ink. From the way, how she placed it on the table, it was clear that for her it was an obvious thing.

Jeroen had noticed earlier, that there was nothing in the fields of mobile phone number and e-mail address by her. It also seemed unusual to him that Kobe the Owl did not bring a laptop, but only pens, pencils and copy paper. Moreover, the contract was written entirely by hand, which was already completely mysterious.

‘You are incredibly old-fashioned!’ he responded, meeting the white dog's condemning gaze again.

Gertrude dipped her pen into the little bottle, which glistened in the light like a drop of gloomy night. Then very slowly, carefully and calligraphically beautiful she put her name on the papers. Only then did she glance at Jeroen.

‘I am not against progress, Mr Baaij,’ she said, weighing every word. ’As long as it is connected to human nature. And not if the only achievement is speed and simplicity. Then everything is simplified so much that it loses all value. Man himself loses his value.’

Jeroen heard the bitterness in her voice and in the silence that followed he felt uncomfortable. Englishman Richard was still following him with his small, black button-like eyes. Jeroen was relieved when Mr Owl finished his tea, got up from his chair and announced with solemnity, ‘congratulations Mr Baaij and Mrs Jansen, the house has been sold.’