The first thing that strikes you on entering the old Royal Conservatoire in The Hague is the noise. Small children race around the reception desk, shouting in Russian and waving toys.
Then comes the detritus of everyday life. A pile of washing and an ironing board peeks out from behind a door. A Maine Coon cat regards us solemnly from behind a glass window; delicious smells waft up from a makeshift kitchen on one of the floors.
