When I was little, the 5th of December meant placing your shoe by the chimney or radiator just before you went to bed. You’d stuff it with a carrot, a few cubes of sugar, and a rolled up drawing hailing the characters of the current festivities. Come morning, you’d rush into the living room, excited to see what Sinterklaas had left you. There’d be mandarins, preferably rather leafy, and speculaas in the shape of the fairytale saint himself. Sometimes, there’d be gold-wrapped chocolate coins and chocolate figurines wrapped in colourful, aluminium foil. And, there’d be toys. Toys you’d spent the weeks before selecting from catalogues, window displays, and the endless cycle of commercials being pumped out since early November. You’d flick page after folder page—crammed into your letter box the weeks before—and cut or tore out the ones you wanted. At school, you’d draw a line art version of a hessian bag and stick your cut-out paper toys on it. It was the thing to do, to tabulate.