Fallen Woman

I have a great talent that really I need to share. I know that people are supposed to be modest and all that, but it is time to be honest instead. I have a great talent for falling over. There is nothing I need to do to achieve that, it just happens to me naturally. I don't need to go out and take risks or do dangerous things, I don't need to get drunk first or keep my eyes closed, I can do it just like that, no problem. And I can do it in a spectacular way.

My most recent major achievement was on board the ship just 6 weeks ago. This ship has various decks, the main deck is where all the cabins are, the galley, a lounge and a long corridor. In this corridor are hatches that provide access to the dungeons below. Yes, you can guess, at one point one of the hatches was open, the one leading down to the water maker. I was talking to someone in the lounge, looking back while heading down into the corridor, and headed down into the big hole instead. It is one of those experiences you don't realise you are going through, until it's over. One moment I was standing in the lounge, the next I was dangling in this gap. I was lucky this time, my left shinbone landed on the little stepladder, my right thigh got stuck on the edge. I remember just sitting there, not really realising what had just happened and where I was. That lasted a moment, then people around me started to react, while I just sat there. And then I got up, walked out and went on to do the things I needed to do at that point. About fifteen minutes later I checked my leg and saw a huge bump on my shin bone, and that shook me. The doctor put some ice on it, and only then I almost fainted, sitting on deck. I guess delayed shock. I am still reminded of that fall, because now, six weeks later, there still is a bump on my shin, the wound hasn't healed completely and my thigh still looks blue and it keeps itching. It's not that bad, and I do realise it could have been a lot worse and that in a way I was lucky, but it does make you think.

I have a pretty good history of falling over, though I usually do a much better job of it on a bicycle. I can remember quite a few incidents happening over the years. I can remember cycling to school every day and regularly falling off my bike. I once thought I could just make the traffic light, so I accelerated a little. What I didn't expect was the two people in front of me stopping when the light turned orange. I knew what was going to happen, and it felt like a film shown in slow motion, but I was heading straight for them. I remember hitting them, and falling down and I remember wishing them a good morning lying there on the street.

Another time I still remember was just on the other side of the bridge, when my wheel got stuck in the tram tracks. I very slowly started to keel over until I finally landed on the ground. These were the slow falls, the ones where you know what is going to happen and you consciously experience falling down. The ones where you know what is happening, you know you don't want it to happen, but there just isn't anything you can do about it.

Then I remember the times it all happened so fast I just found myself on the floor without having experienced the fall itself. I once cycled home from work at the beginning of winter, crossed the white of a zebra crossing while turning a corner, and suddenly found myself on the ground. Then there was the time I ignored a red light, checked for traffic from my left, but didn't check my right. This still is Amsterdam, so another cyclist hit me from the right cycling in the wrong direction so I didn't expect her. I guess it was both of us breaking the rules, but I remember this girl started yelling at me. And this again happened without me realising what happened until I was on the street. And once in winter cycling on the Apollolaan, turning a corner just opposite the Hilton hotel en finding myself on the floor again. My darling partner told me not to make a fuss, to get up so we could continue on our way to the Naardermeer, but I couldn't get up. A very nice passer-by helped me up, and got me a taxi and that is how I got home. I hurt my arm quite badly and needed help getting dressed for a while. But I think that is the worst that has happened so I'm not complaining really.

Dusk

I went swimming later than usual today, and walked back just after six. I suddenly got that feel of dusk again, the moment when it just starts to get a little darker. It is something I remember from long ago, when I used to love cycling home just around the time when it got dark, especially on a Friday afternoon, when there always seemed a sense of expectation in the air. I felt that again today. Or maybe it is spring?

Foggy

Today it isn't the blinds that keep me from seeing the Rijksmuseum, it's the fog. I can't even see Carré, which is less than 100 metres from where I am and not a small building. It felt lovely and wintery this morning cycling through the park. I was surrounded by this thick mist, and I felt the cold through my coat on my skin. I like winter mornings like that, but this morning didn't have the usual winter quiet. I could hear the woodpecker in the park, along with some of
the other park birds, getting ready to start breeding, and making a lot of fuss about it. A few years ago a woodpecker had a nest in a tree very close to my house and going back home from work I could see the young demanding their food.

Batty

Last night I saw a bat from my living room window. It took me a moment to recognise it again, because I hadn't seen one for years. Good to know they still are out there.

Resisting Temptation

Such a beautiful spring day. They say it's going to rain the rest of this week so I really enjoyed the sunshine today. I spent my lunch break sitting on a bench near the river Amstel, watching the world go by, and talking to a colleague. After that it is very hard to get back to work again, but I did manage today.

I also managed to buy chocolates for someone at the best patisserie in the Netherlands without buying any of these really delicious looking Easter eggs and other chocolates for myself. Not an easy thing to accomplish.

More Music Please

Concert time again. A very intimate concert this time at the KHL in Amsterdam. New names, but fun to listen to. Reni Laine is an 18-year old singer songwriter from New York touring the Netherlands, where she is finally allowed to legally drink. That's one way of looking at the country, I guess. I did like her music and she was a nice girl. Then Ysis from Zwolle, very different, but I also enjoyed hearing them. Good voices.

All this did make me look forward to Eleni Mandell's concert here in April though. I listen to the cd over and over again, and keep hearing new things in there. The lyrics are not the least bit predictable and I like that very much. I also like the laid-back style, the arrangements and I like her voice.

I really feel like going to concerts at the moment, and fortunately I have quite a few planned right now. And so many different ones too, which makes it good fun. There's An Pierlé coming up, Mondo Leone and Zita Swoon. Maybe Reni Laine again. And I am already looking forward to Christy's concert here in May.

Locked out

After being locked in earlier this week I was locked out today. We share our front door with the next door neighbours and he managed to have his bike stolen with all his keys still in, so they changed the lock while I was out walking. It does feel strange coming back, trying your key, and finding out it really doesn't work. I did notice the lock was shinier than usual, and ringing the neighbour's doorbell brought the answer, and a new key.

Out in the dunes today you could feel that it is almost spring now. So many birds out making a lot of noise, trying to attract mates and defend territories. I saw a Kingfisher at the start of the walk, diving and catching a nice meal. It was a hybrid walk in a way, because all the winter ducks were still there, the Mergansers and Goldeneyes, but the first chiffchaffs were making themselves heard too. And I got to see the first new frogs.

One of the reasons why I got to see so much is that we were out with a group of 6 nature guides, all watching out and listening and that is one sure way of getting to see just about all there is out there. And we managed the walk without being guides, so not too many arguments about the direction to take.

Temptation

My spring spending spree doesn't seem to have ended yet, last Saturday I got some new boots. This is the first time in a few years I've had proper, winter boots, as opposed to short, high-heeled ones with laces. I like those because they are so nineteenth century. The new ones feel comfortable now though, it still is a bit chilly out there, and it is very wet at the moment.

And then this morning I was walking past this small shop and I saw lots of nice dresses and skirts in the window. I tried a few things on and had fun again. I just bought one dress, a really nice black and white one. I know I shouldn't, but there you go. These things just happen and there isn't a thing I can do about it.

Now it's only the red shoes left....

Rat

I saw a rat this morning as I was walking down a small nearby shopping street. I do know they live here in the city, but I was so surprised it took me some time to work out what it was I was looking at.

Lent: the Rules and Regulations (1992)

Boudewijn's Lent rules and regulations are strict, and I must confess I don't quite stick to them. They make good guidelines though, and as a whole they make sense.

During the 46 days of Lent (Ash Wednesday through to Easter) the participants will adhere to the following rules:

Food:
Maximum per day:
2 slices of bread with either butter or any one of the following: cheese, jam, sandwich spread, marmite, tomato, radish, peanut butter.
100 grams of meat or fish
2 potatoes or the equivalent in rice, pasta etc.
at least 5 spoonfuls of vegetables, raw if possible
for desert: natural yoghurt, low fat, no sugar
at least 2 pieces of fruit

Maximum per week:1 bowl of soup
Maximum for the entire period:1 French fries, piece of cake, apple pie or other treat

Drinks:
Maximum per day:
3 drinks: coffee, tea (milk or sugar) fruit juice
as much milk or water as you like

Maximum per week:1 soda
Maximum for the entire period:1 alcoholic beverage

Smoking limitations:
Maximum per day:2 cigarettes or 1 cigar

Exercise:
Every day: a ten-minute walk other than you would normally doEvery week: a long walk or bicycle ride, a swim of at least 30 minutes

Religious (optional):
Every week: 1 church visit (preferably different churches)

The Great Escape

Well, I managed to escape in time to vote, so I did. Another environmentally, people and woman friendly vote was cast. It takes more than a simple lock to keep me from voting...

High on the Tower

Sometimes you find yourself in a strange situation. I worked from home this morning, and this afternoon I wanted to go out to go swimming and to go out and vote. I went downstairs, but found out that for some reason I couldn't open the door with my key. That hasn't been going smoothly for a while anyway, but now I find myself locked into my own home. I cannot go swimming, which is a pain, but I do want to go out and vote. I have this theory that this has been engineered by some right wing political party, just to keep me from voting. No, of course I'm not paranoid, I'm perfectly sane.

I am now waiting for a knight in shining armour to come and rescue me, preferably before the evening, so I can escape from my foes and quietly sneak out and vote. It makes me feel like a damsel in distress waiting high up in her tower.

Eleni

I just discovered the music and wisdom of Eleni Mandell:

I want roads that I can drive on
I want a man that I can rely on

All in a song about a salt truck. Wonderful.

Dangerous Driving

I nearly got run over again cycling into work this morning. Sometimes people ask me if it is safe to cross the Drake Passage on such a small sailing ship, and I can always say that it is safer to do that, or to fly in an airplane, than it is to go cycling in Amsterdam. Sometimes that is just a joke, but this morning I got run onto the pavement by one of those men in a van who was not really paying attention to the cyclist riding to his right. And then I realise it is true, that cycling in Amsterdam can be a dangerous business.

Seabirds

A weekend of seabirds. The annual meeting of the Bird of Prey society, a lot of lectures in a small theatre in the north of the country. I usually attend the lectures, but this time I was out there for the "Save the Albatross" campaign. Not strictly speaking birds of prey maybe, but I guess you could call them the ocean's birds of prey. And they deserve to get more attention. We managed to raise some money for the campaign again, and raise awareness of the plight of the seabirds in the Southern Oceans.

These birding days are special days. You get to meet the same people at the various fairs, some you know by name, others you know better. This time one of the guests of my last Antarctic trip turned up, but I did expect him too. Then there is a couple I meet at all sorts of birding events, and sometimes in the field. I remember them once turning up an early Sunday morning out of the woods carrying a high ladder because they had been inspecting nesting boxes.

At this fair I found a nice copy of Edward Wilson's "Birds of the Antarctic", a 1987 reprint, but in very good condition. I got to see a little more Wilson over the weekend at the house of a seabird enthousiast I stayed with. He collects bones, skulls and skeletons of seabirds, and he has quite a collection. He does a lot of research into the subject and he knows a lot about it. It is strange though, to see the skulls of some of the birds I saw flying in the South earlier this year on display in a glass case in someone's house. I had to disappoint him though. He hasn't got the skull of a gentoo penguin and I remember holding one in my had at Aitcho to show our guests. I had to leave it behind, of course, even though it was very beautiful. No souvenirs from Antarctica.

This collector also has a nice collection of books and he has a copy of the original Terra Nova bird report with Wilson's drawings. Most of these are in the 1967 book, but not all, and it was lovely to see them in this report. Now I know I'll have to get hold of that somehow.

I don't know what it is about Wilson's drawings that makes them so special. When I first found "Birds of the Antarctic" at the Arctic weekend a couple of years ago I took one look at the book and just fell in love with Wilson's art. The drawings are so lifelike and delicate, and I liked the fact that many of the ones in the book are not finished, they are just sketches. On reading more about the man I came to appreciate the art even more. I now have a lot of material published about him, and I still find him fascinating.

Oma

Today was my grandmother's birthday. If she was still alive she would have been 98 now.

Roll On Summer

I got back from the Antarctic about three weeks ago, I think, I am still having trouble keeping track of time sometimes. It still is winter here, but it isn't really, there is a sense of spring in the air. It isn't really cold anymore, the Godwits are back (1500 in Geijssel's wetland, I read this morning), and the shops are full of the new summer fashion and it is great. I have to confess to buying yet another skirt and top today. And this is the woman who for several years went shopping for clothes twice a year, and only when the holes in her jeans were so big wearing them was becoming positively indecent. For the last couple of years that has been changing again and I am back to wearing dresses and skirts in the summer. Now I finally have a womens bike again I can wear them to work too. I have lost some weight over the past couple of months for all sorts of reasons, and the great thing is that I now fit into all of last year's new clothes again too. So, roll on the summer, I say, I'm ready for it this year. I'm looking forward to the sunshine, the bright colours, the liveliness in the city, and to not wearing at least three layers of clothing all the time.

Ik wil alleen maar zwemmen...

is the title of a Dutch song, and it says "I Just Want to Swim". Sometimes that is just how I feel and that is probably why I like the song so much. Over the past couple of years I have really come to love swimming for all sorts of reasons.

When I work from home in the winter swimming is an absolute necessity, because it is the only way I can defrost at lunchtime. This is a pretty cold house, and after a morning at the computer I am chilled to the bone. Half an hour in the pool, and maybe just a few minutes in the sauna, and I have the use of my fingers back...

Working at the computer was a reason for me to start swimming again anyway. I got a lot of RSI-related complaints and my physical therapist advised me to go swimming. I did, and my computer habits may have improved a little, I think it is the swimming that has helped me deal with the complaints really. The muscles in my back and shoulders are a lot stronger than they were two years ago.

Then there is the exercise, it is a great way to keep all of your body fit, you need to use most muscles, legs, arms and shoulders, but also your back and your stomach.

The sheer relaxation of being in a swimming pool and the only thing you need to do for an hour or half an hour is swim. Move your legs and your arms, make sure you don't hit anybody and that is it. No distractions, nothing else going on, just swimming.

And then there is the pure sensation of being in the water. The moment you gently lower yourself into the pool and feel yourself being surrounded by water, that just feels great.

I swam for an hour yesterday, and again today, and it just felt so good. I should try and do that every day, but there just isn't enough time to do that.

Energy

I seem to have all this energy these days and I am not sure where it comes from. Maybe it's just spring and the longer hours of daylight, I don't know. There are about a hundred things I want to do, and I can never do more than one at a time it seems. There is a whole list in my mind of what I want, and it is way too long for me to actually do something about it. I'd like to go swimming more, just because I enjoy it so much and because it is so good for me. I want to read more, I just got the latest Marianne Frederiksson from the library and I can't wait to start it. I want to write more, on my blogs and also just for myself, and there is a whole list of people whose emails I still want to reply to. I need to sort out the pictures from my trip to send to the people who are in them. I've been reading a lot of poetry again, and I want to read more. I've been keeping in touch with friends by phone and mail, but I want to go out and see them to talk to them. I want to go and listen to more concerts, I have a few planned, but I have a great hunger for new music. I want to go back to learning Spanish, after yet another time in Ushuaia where half the conversations with local people went straight past me, and I don't want that happening to me again. But I'd also like to see more plays and films. The list is too long really. I'm just going to make a start, that is probably the best thing to do.

Reading Glasses

Since I am not 18 anymore things have slowly began to go downhill. Well, I'm okay generally, I can still walk a few miles if I have to, I can still cycle into work at some speed. But it's the eyes that are beginning to give out. I got glasses when I was 11, and then started wearing contact lenses some 15 years later. Now I'm back to glasses, because I need reading glasses. I went to the optician a while ago to have my eyes checked and he was a very nice and a very funny man. He just advised me to get some cheap reading glasses ("Oh, so I can go to the department store next door and get some". "Yes, or you could get them from me") and told me that that would be enough for the next few years, it all shouldn't get much worse. He had the same problem as me "Well, we are more or less the same age". He was something of a charmer.

Now I find myself becoming more and more dependent on my glasses. In a shop I have trouble reading the ingredients on various products, and sometimes I need to to make sure they really are vegetarian, at the computer I sometimes cheat and make the letters a little bigger, but I do need my glasses, and now it is during meetings I have to get them out when I want to read the minutes. I'm not the only one, but it does take some getting used to.

Luka Day

I just got Luka's new CD, "Tribe". He's made this one together with Simon O'Reilly, so it's different from his other work. Then again, Luka is forever changing, finding new roads. I am not sure what to think of this one yet, I guess I'll need a little time to get used to it. It is very interesting to listen to, though, and I don't think I will tire of it soon. It is one of the things I like about Luka, he will always come up with something else entirely and will still be Luka.

Blinds

The blinds in this place live a life of their own. As I sit here trying to get my project organised they go down again, and I am in my little cage. Then, shortly after, they go up again. I know they are testing at the moment, but it is a little silly, and pretty distracting, especially if you are trying to think.

Darkness and Light

I work in a little glass box. It's narrow, isolated, but nice and quiet. Today it is strange though because I seem to be locked in. Last week new brise-soleils (?) were placed on the windows, and for some reason they are closed today. Not that there is any sun, they simply are closed and there is no way I can open them. It makes for a very limited view of the world and for a lot of darkness. I prefer to be in a place where there is a lot of light, and where I can look out and see something of the world.

As I am writing this, suddenly, I get my view on the world back. No sunshine, but a grey and cloudy day, the kind of day that makes you want to either go home and crawl up in bed with a really good book, a box of chocolates and a pot of tea, or go for a long walk in the dunes. No such luck for me today...

Anatomy

Yesterday I was at the Natural History Museum. They have a great bookshop, so whenever I am in Leiden I try to go and have a look. This time I went to the museum itself again, I was tempted by the "Extremes" exhibition, all about extreme heat, cold, wet, dry. That was pretty good, a lot of things to do for children, like there are everywhere in the museum. You could test the wind chill factor, for example, which was quite funny to do. And they showed an Antarctic Ice Fish, which I found interesting.

I hadn't been to the museum for about a year or so, and you always forget so much. Like the three whale skeletons, or part whale skeletons right at the back. After being back in Antarctica and at the whale museum in Harberton I noticed these again particularly, a Sperm Whale, a Southern Right Whale and a Sei Whale.

I also ended up in the other temporary exhibition on human anatomy. I don't think I saw all of it, it felt a little strange walking round there. They showed a lot of samples from the anatomical museum of Leiden University Hospital, so you get to see a lot of things that can go wrong, and these aren't models. And to see a cross section of a human head is fascinating, but it also is pretty disconcerting. I wasn't really prepared for this, because I didn't know the exhibition was on. The images stay with me though, they did make an impression.

Where Blue Lives

I went back to the place where blue lives. It is as far south as you can go, where the world seems white, but is blue deep down. The ice and the snow make Antarctica seem white at first, but when you get a glimpse of the world underneath, through the icebergs you see floating everywhere, or on the sides of the glaciers, you can see the purest and the deepest blue. To me that is a sign that blue is the colour of the world underneath, like the world you can find under the surface of the sea. That big white continent hides the ultimate blue somewhere deep down inside, it is part of the mystery.

The south can bring out the best in people I have seen. People are rendered speechless. Some can sit for ages on deck looking at the scenery, or can kneel down on a beach to try and ocmmunicate with a penguin. This year we sailed through the Lemaire Strait on an extremely misty day, you couldn't see the mountains on either side. You could see the icebergs in the water, and the Crabeaters and Leopard Seals resting on them. You could feel the silence, and it was the most impressive thing to me.

Some people underestimate the south. They start planning their next holiday even before they come into port, and that sometimes frightens me. If Antarctica becomes just another holiday destination, then what will be left of it in 10 years time? How many people will go and simply mark it as another distant place to visit? On some trips we have the dreamers, the people who always dreamed of travelling down to the continent, the quiet ones you slowly have to prise
away at the last landing. They will take the continent with them. Like I do, I guess.

Blast from the Past

In the changing rooms at the swimming pool today they played "Crazy Horses". It always makes me smile.

Land and Water

Yesterday I spent just a few minutes near the old docks, the area of Amsterdam which is being redeveloped and which provides, very fashionable, housing for a lot of people. Some of my colleagues live there. The architecture on Java Island is fascinating, and I like the way the old warehouses are integrated into the new area. The best example of this is the way the Schaeffer bridge lands right underneath an old warehouse, which is still in use these days. It is nice to be near the IJ, to see the water and the way the water and the land fit together.

Oud West

I live in a part of Amsterdam that I really like, though I guess I ended up here more or less by accident. The area is called Oud-West and much of it was built at the end of the nineteenth century, very fast, to provide housing for the lower middle classes. The area has long, straight streets, most houses are about four floors high, and are divided up into appartments. It's a busy area, with too many cars and not enough trees, but it is both urban and suburban enough to feel good. The scale is just right, and I like the architecture.

I also like the history and the liveliness of the place. And then there is the literature. W.F. Hermans, one of Holland's greatest 20th century authors lived here, and wrote about the area, and for me it will continue to be associated with this man and with his work. And part of "De Kleine Waarheid", one of the ultimate Amsterdam novels, takes place in the Brederodestraat. I guess the literary connotations are everywhere simply because the streets are named after Dutch authors.

Towards the centre of Amsterdam, almost on the edge of Oud-West, is the former Wilhelmina hospital, an area now used by artists, which is full of life and has one of Amsterdam's nicest restaurants. The old hospital wasn't demolished, many of the buildings were renovated and are still in use.

I live on the edge of Oud-West, close to the park, where the houses were built just a little later, and my house is just a little bigger and lighter. I live on the third floor, on a corner, so I have a lot of windows and a lot of light coming into my house. That was one of the reasons why I bought it. That and the fact that it still has the old sliding doors, and an original kitchen cabinet. One that reminds me of scenes in the television adaptation of "De Kleine Waarheid".

Why does everything always come back to books?

Lent

Lent just started, the time of year for reflection. I guess that is what it means to me. Lent is a time of taking less, in every respect, of restraint. For me it also is the time when I think of Boudewijn. He was my colleague for almost ten years, and though in some ways I got to know him very well, in other I never really got close to him.

I remember when I first met Boudewijn. The company I worked for had just started out, and was located in a house near a canal. The downstairs room wasn't really in use, there were a couple of desks upstairs with some computers and a printer. I worked there for two days a week as a secretary, just so that I had a steady income while I worked as a free lance journalist for the local paper. I had to answer the telephone, do some data entry work and some secretarial work. The company consisted of a director and two part time employees, but most days I wouldn't see anyone. Then Boudewijn became involved, and he came to inspect me, obviously curious. He gradually became more involved with the company and helped build it to a great extent. He was committed, dedicated and very clever. He worked many more hours than he was paid for, he was always keen to devise new systems and work on new ways of solving problems. And he was creative, so he always managed to come up with these new solutions.

Over the years I became more involved with the company myself, I started working more hours and got many more responsibilities. I started working on projects, and more closely with Boudewijn. He taught me the things I needed to know, and took me with him to meet the people we worked for. Often that would mean travelling down to the various Dutch airports, because the work involved environmental research for airports.

He was passionate about his work, but equally passionate about his music, he played trombone in a band, and about playing golf. He was very upset when he lost his swing for a while. I once went to see his band play at an open air fair and was both surprised and not surprised. Every inch of him was put into the music, and his passion became visible, but in the end it was the same passion he put into his work. I talked to him after the concert, and he was complaining that no one wanted to go in the big roundabout swing with him, so I volunteered. Unfortunately we were just too late, the fair was closing down. That is something I regret.

I always felt Boudewijn lived for the full 200%, and I think he did. We didn't get to talk about personal matters very often, but we did spend a couple of days together counting houses near Groningen Airport. After spending all day together in the car we went out to a Greek restaurant for dinner, and talked about things close to our heart. It is one of those days that I will always remember and that will always be special to me. Just as I remember an asparagus dinner near Eindhoven airport.

What I didn't realise until later was the "black thread" that was always a part of him. When he reached the point where work, and maybe other things, weren't enough anymore he couldn't go on and he ended his life. I remember being very sad, but I also remember being at peace with that from the very moment I heard about it. I had already left the company, but was still in touch with him, and I never doubted his decision. I had such faith in him.

This it the time of year I remember him most because he was in the habit of observing Lent. Not because he was religious, but because he thought of it as a time for reflection, a time of restraint. He had a strict list of exactly what you could or could not eat during those 6.5 weeks, and he would stick to the list no matter what. You could always watch him grow thinner and grumpier, but it was important to him. He wanted to make sure he would stay physically fit and he liked the idea of restraint. For a couple of years I joined him and found out how hard it was, but also how rewarding it was.

I do still miss him sometimes, and when I see a similar looking man on the street I will always think "It's Boudewijn", with a sense of joy, before I realise it cannot be. I guess that means that "The Man is Alive" in some way, and I remember him with great fondness.

Red and Blue

Blue has always fascinated me. I love the colour and I love what it means to me. For some reason the colour always comes back into my life. I had a colleague who had blue as the theme for his life. He was always looking for the ultimate blue, wherever he went and whatever he did. When he was walking around the city he would be looking for blue things that he would pick up, label and store away. He always wore blue, including bright blue shoes, and at his desk even the stapler was blue. He also loved the water, and he loved sailing. The sea was also the place where he would go looking for the ultimate blue, which he thought he would find somewhere between the sea and the sky. Ultimately, that is the place where his life ended.

For me blue is the colour of great depth of things, the colour of the exploration of things nderneath the surface. I guess that is why Luka's "Exploring the Blue" has so much meaning, because the two are inextricably linked.

Then I also love red, because red is the colour of fire, the colour of life, the colour of danger. I love to wear red clothes, because they make me feel good, and they give me a sense of control. It is the colour of the superficial that sets of the blue. The colour that ensures that I don't get lost in too much thought or reflection but also remain alive and part of the world. It is the colour of heat that can set of the cold that can be part of blue. To me the two cannot really be separated, and I need both in my life to make it complete.

Sunday with the Penguins

I just spent my Sunday with the Penguins. After reading a couple of scientific books I wanted a little more light reading, so I got a book from the library with lots of beautiful pictures and just the basic information. I read all through it yesterday and enjoyed myself. I learned some new things about penguins, and was reminded of many other things. I'm beginning to understand them a lot better, and now I can actually remember a few facts.

I'm also reading about Scott now, Ranulph Fiennes book about the "Race to the Pole". Fiennes isn't as hard on Scott as some others are. He has a different kind of understanding maybe, because he's been there and he has first-hand knowledge of the terrain.

I never really know what to think of Scott, he is so full of contradictions. He was a naval officer, a man who rapidly made a career for himself, and he did get a lot right. But in the end he got things wrong. I don't know if he simply made too many mistakes, or if he just got unlucky.

I'm actually a chaotic reader at the moment. I'm also in the middle of "Cherry", Sarah Wheeler's biography of Apsley Cherry-Garrard, and I'm reading David Campbell's "The Crystal Desert". Campbell's book is pretty broad, it has history, geology. ecology and biology, and all told in a way that isn't too hard to read.

Panorama

Spending a weekend telling people about albatrosses made me realise again just how special they are and just how rapidly numbers are going down. Being stuck in an office most of the time sometimes makes the world down south seem so far away and almost unreal, but if I get to go back down south again I know it will be the other way round. Then that will be my real world and what goes on here will seem unreal.

The ocean isn't my natural habitat, I guess, I am to a great extent a city girl. But having crossed the ocean once, I can definitely imagine doing it again. The pace is so different, there is a lot you cannot do, and that gives you great freedom. There is a strange sense of confinement too, but at the same time a sense of immense space. I remember standing on the deck of our sailing ship, looking all around, and getting this panoramic sense. On all sides you could see the horizon touch the sea, and there was nothing in there. Just the sea as far as you can see. And right in the middle my ship, my universe for the moment.

Forever South

When I think about the South Pole and Antarctica a lot of images come to mind. Some are things I have seen for myself, the icebergs and the blue, the penguins, the humpback whales and the killer whales, but some are things I have read about or have seen on films or photographs. The more you read and see about the continent, the more there seems to be. There definitely is something mythical about the place, and once you get drawn into it it is hard to walk away again.

A few years ago I talked to a co-worker who was very interested in penguins. She knew much about them, and that made me realize that I knew very little about them. I didn't even really know there were such different species. To see penguins you have to travel a long way and I didn't really think I was ever going to do that. To travel to the Falkland Islands to see penguins was such a remote idea that it never
even entered my mind. It was almost like planning a holiday on the moon. I still haven't visited the Falkland Islands, though that is now a real possibility for me, and I've already been closer than I ever thought I would be. And to tell the truth, I was even further away than the Falkland Islands. I've seen seven species of penguin in the wild, in their own environment, and that was very special. It really was amazing. (thank you, Richard)

But there is so much more out there. I had never thought I would end up on a sailing ship, somewhere in the Southern Ocean, just a few metres away from a group of curious humpback whales, I never thought I would get to smell them, and to almost get close enough to touch them. And I never thought I would get to see albatrosses gliding over the ocean, such a beautiful sight. And just a couple of years ago I hadn't even heard of Wilson's Storm Petrel, now one of my favourite birds. So small and so tough. It can survive above that immense ocean, and it is such a tiny bird.

Blue

Travelling across Atlantic waters gives new meaning to the phrase “Exploring the Blue”. The light is different down there, the colour of the water and the sky, but most of all the snow, the ice and the icebergs. The icebergs have so many shades of blue.

Terschelling

I go to one of the islands for a week. It’s a lovely island, some 20 kilometres long, not too many people. There are woods here, dunes and heather, and views of the sea and the mud flats with all the wading birds. The wind is strong and blows all thought out of your mind.

It takes a couple of hours on a ferry to get there, but that slows you down nicely. Getting off the ferry is hectic, a lot of cars, bicycles and people in one place, all heading in more or less the same direction. The trick is getting out quickly, and then it is quiet. I took my bicycle this time, so I manage to get out quickly.

You turn right from the dock, there is short street, and then you are in a cycle lane which leads all the way along the island. There is a green dyke, with lots of sheep, to your left, to your right there is just the sea. If you are lucky the tide is just right, there are some mud flats, and lots of wading birds. Out there no cars, just a few other cyclists, and it is quiet.

About halfway along the island, in the village before the last one, there is a campsite. All the school holidays are over, so again, it is lovely and quiet. There only is one other tent on the field. It never takes us long to pitch our tent. It turns out a tough week for camping though. We turn in at about nine, when it gets dark, but somehow we just don’t get much sleep. It is seven nights of tossing and turning, of aching hips and shoulders (no, we don’t have inflatable mats). Even the local nightcap proves no solution.

It is a lazy weekend really, we haven’t made any plans. We have a map of the island and a travel guide. We want to see birds and butterflies. We walk across the dunes next to the campsite, in the wood on the other side. We cycle along the dyke to see all the wading birds foraging on the south side of the island.

For a week in September the weather is amazing. Sunshine, the odd cloud, but just a few drops of rain on the morning we have to leave. It means we can leave our tent in the morning and spend the days exploring the island.

To the East there is a huge nature reserve, covering a major part of the island. It is off limits during the breeding season but now we can walk there. It is flat, you can see for kilometres. The first few kilometres of the path you still have other people in front or behind you, but further along you are on your own. There are Wheatears everywhere, one on every sign or pole, they are on the path in front and behind us. Keeping one eye on us, but not very shy. They are such beautiful, graceful little birds. Further along a male Hen Harrier, the most beautiful bird of prey I know, is hunting. I remember a few years’ ago, on this same island, a male Hen Harrier would hover over our tent while we were cooking supper.

Another day we walk along a shorter path in the south of the reserve. It is a narrow track, wet and muddy, but very beautiful. The perfect place for caterpillars and crickets. We see some absolute beauties. An added bonus is the Sparrowhawk that hasn’t spotted us and cruises by at eye level. We just stop and stare.

To the West of the island is where all the people are. There are two bigger towns on the island, which is where the shops, the bars and the discos are. In the summer this is where the teenagers gather. They stay at campsites, buy their beer supplies and have a wild three weeks. This season is for the slightly older guests, elderly couples who go cycling and have their coffees and cranberry pies, and who stay at the bed and breakfast places and the hotels. We do our
shopping here, and join the crowds eating cranberry pie.

Just outside the smaller of the two town is a former church, now used as studio, gallery and home by a local artist. He opens the gallery when he feels like it, and meanwhile continues working. His paintings are all along the high walls of the church. They show a great range in colour and subject matter. Island scenes, portraits, fantasy paintings and nudes. It is hard to know where to look. There is a huge bird in the middle of the space, the bottom half in bright colours, the top still waiting to be finished. The music is Simon and Garfunkel, there is a jukebox somewhere in the back. There is a piano on the other side of the room, next to the billiards table. High up you can see a collection of old skates and sledges. There is a strong mix of the personal and the artistic.

It is also a sad week for me in some ways. My two last visits I made during a sad time and many places I pass remind me of those days. Places where I made difficult phone calls, places where I cried, places where I had a coffee and sat writing down my thoughts. It is hard to be back, because those places bring back all the memories, and there still is a lot of sadness and pain. It surprises me, because it is a few years’ ago now, and I thought it was getting better, but I remember all those places. And there are so many.

Our first night back home, in our own soft bed, is a tough one. We wake up at three, just as we would in our tent, and can’t get back to sleep. This time we get up, make a pot of tea, and spend two hours reading all of last week’s papers. Oh well.

Survival

Walking along the canals it is good to see all the weeds coming up through the stones. It sometimes amazes me to see how confidently plants will always grow back, using every opportunity, every tiny bit of open soil within cracks in the concrete or between rocks and stones. It is encouraging to know that we cannot control all of this. We try to create nature to compensate for all the stone and concrete we put down everywhere, but nature itself does a much better job, turning up unexpectedly and surprising us time and time again. In this country we try to control and plan everything. We make up our little pigeon holes, houses there, industrial sites there, nature there, and very few places are just left to themselves. When you fly over this country you will always know where you are. The country of straight lines, all neat and tidy.

Today I also saw about ten Swifts flying high above the Skinny Bridge. I watched them for a bit. They are about to head south again for the winter, which is a shame. I love to hear the sound of Swifts in town or at home outside my window. They are only here for about 100 days a year though, and to me they are the sound of summer.

Birthday Trip

We spent our weekend in the east of the country. Cycling, enjoying the countryside, watching birds. We stayed at a small camp site, which has its own vegetarian restaurant. A lovely meal, four courses, all tasty and unusual. You can find vegetartian meals almost everywhere nowadays, but the menu often is predictable. You end up having a pizza or a curry, for example. And often you don’t really get to choose.

There was a wonderful moment on Friday when we cycled towards some trees and suddenly noticed a huge shower. It was like cycling towards a wall of rain. I had never seen the edge of a shower so clearly. We stopped to have a look at this, and not to cycle into it, but we didn’t have to. The wall quickly moved towards us, and we ran to take shelter in a barn on a farm yard. We watched the shower move across the fields, and it looked stunning.

As for the birds. Highlights were a hoard of young Housemartins stuck just under the roof of a farm we passed. Over 40 nests with young about to leave the nest. And at the camp site a couple of Spotted Flycatchers who were not bothered by people staring at them for a long time. Then there were the Woodpeckers that could be heard throughout the weekend, but could not actually be seen.

Cycling out there for me was also a strange mixture of history and literature. I’ve been reading Dutch historical novels set partly in this area, and seeing all the small castles and monumental houses brought those books to life for me.

Building

From my desk at work I can see the building activities going on in the next building. I am up on the sixth floor, and I can see this building across the road. Actually, I can see right through it, because the outside is nearly all glass now. A few months’ ago they started stripping the place, and you could see huge skips lifted up to the top floors, sticking out of the building. Now I can see huge men in brightly coloured shirts up on the roof rebuilding the place. The funny thing is that the department I work for will move into that building at the end of next year.

I finished the McGrath book, and enjoyed it very much. I’m back to reading one of my favourite Dutch authors, Hella Haasse. She writes historical novels, but there always is such a lot of psychological insight in what she writes. That is what makes it most interesting for me. She also manages to create a sense of history that I enjoy. The book I am reading now is about Dutch history, but it feels quite foreign to me. I recently read a book she wrote about Greece
during and just after the second world war, creating a real web, with a great many strands all falling into place at the end. And she created a wonderful set of characters, writing from various points of view, leaving and picking up the story several times.

Clothes and Books

Yesterday I went shopping for clothes, something I do not like at all. I am not very good at finding things, I don’t know how other people manage that. Also, you have to change in and out of everything all the time, I usually end up pretty depressed. Yesterday was not that bad, though I still can think of nicer ways to spend a day off. At least I got a result, I bought 6 tops. I also wanted shoes and jeans, but still, I managed to find something. I always end up going
for the same colours though, I always buy red, white, blue and black. I started off buying three red tops, and then had to force myself not to go for the red corner in all the other shops. But I didn’t like all the green and yellow things.

Of course, I started and ended in a bookshop, trust me. I got a book on personality disorders, which I managed to read yesterday after I got back. It is fascinating reading. I also got Patrick McGrath’s “Port Mungo”. There are a few writers I will buy any book of, and McGrath is one of them. He hasn’t written that many books, but they are fascinating. I started reading this one yesterday, and couldn’t put it down. It reminds me somewhat of Siri Hustvedt’s “What I Loved”, which is a haunting book for me. Another one of those authors.

Interior Design

My house seems to be a pretty organic place, really. Items move in, become part of the setting, other items move out again. It always seems like a whole though, it just changes all the time. I am no good at throwing things out, and I am good at collecting. Yes, I have a lot of books, and yes, I have read most of them. I couldn’t live without them. But they seem well-contained in their bookcases in my room. It is the knick-knacks that are everywhere. Souvenirs from various trips, like my little wooden woodpecker from the Czech Republic. Gifts from other people, like the toy bird attached to my computer screen, which I got from a colleague a few years’ ago. Things I bought because I like them or collect them, like the old Flanders and Swann programme and my statuettes of the Little Prince. And the things left to me by people who have died, like Alie’s picture frames and her hat. It is a strange collection of weird and wonderful things.

Until last week we had our last guinea pig in two big cages in the room too, but he died. So now there is this empty space where there used to be a very cuddly little animal. There is a gap there. It is amazing how quickly the gap is filled though, with a tea tray and a bowl we inherited from our adopted granny. It's as if it's always been like that.

Changes

Sometimes it seems as if life just goes on, one day after another, and then suddenly everything seems to change at once. This is a time of change.

Today I went to my second funeral in 10 days, which is so weird. Last week we had to say goodbye to our adopted granny, an 89-year old lady, who had suffered a stroke. Today I went to the ceremony for the father of my closest co-worker, who was only 60 years old. My adopted granny seemed ready and reconciled to her death, my colleague’s father wasn’t. He was still so young, three daughters in their early thirties, two grandsons under two years’ old. It always seems such a waste.

A Modern Comedy

I’ve been watching the new adaptation of “The Forsyte Saga” on television, and I am impressed. I know the British produce all these great actors and writers, and it is easy to just take that for granted, but this is one of those shows that make you aware of that again.

I vaguely remember the first adaptation that was done in the sixties. I was very young then, and I can’t imagine watching it at the time, but I remember reading the book when I was very young, and being impressed. I could still remember the main story lines when I started watching this adaptation, but not all the details. And I don’t remember enough of that first series to be able to compare notes.

It is a great story of people and emotions. There are characters you can identify with, characters you love and admire, and characters you don’t approve of. But there are no characters to hate. Somehow they all are believable and they all demand sympathy to some extent. I think Damian Lewis did a great job of Soames Forsythe, making him believable, detestable but at the same time slightly pathetic and tragic. This is a man who simply doesn’t get the point, and that is sad, but happens all too often.

So much happens beneath all those proper and serious exteriors. There are loving relationships, the one between Jolyon and Irene, but a lot of emptiness and deceit too. The times may have changed but in many ways it still is a modern comedy. I don’t care much for Fleur, but her crying out to Jon after he walked away from her was heart-breaking. As was the look on his face and Irene’s piano playing.

Rowing

Yesterday we went rowing. We found out we could borrow a small boat at a nature reserve near the farm where we do our conservation work. They are fairly small boats, officially room for five, but I’m not sure I’d like to be on board with five people. This time it was the two of us and a camera.

It was a bit chilly, but not too bad for rowing. It was interesting to see the fields and the birds from this different perspectiv. Low down, looking up. The birds were wiling to let us come a lot nearer than they would if we were walking, so a good opportunity for taking pictures. Hard to keep the boat still though.

What surprised me was that rowing was so easy. I hadn’t done it since I was a child and I had this small inflatable dinghy, but I still knew how to do it. Maybe it is one of those things you don’t forget, like swimming. I managed to keep us more or less steady and heading in the right direction. And I actually enjoyed myself.

Accident Prone

I managed to burn my hand tonight. Just while I was cooking, I poured a lot of boiling water over my left hand. I always manage to do things like that. It hurts while you are doing it, then there is nothing for a while, and now it really hurts again. I am forever walking into doors, cutting myself, getting burned. I don’t know why that is. Maybe because half the time I don’t really pay attention to what I am doing.

Luka in Concerto

Yesterday I went to see Luka Bloom play at a record shop here in Amsterdam. He played for over an hour, much longer than I expected. And he was good. He just played quiet songs, new ones and songs from the Sleep album.

A different environment for a concert. The shop was fairly busy before Luka started to play, but once he sat down just about everybody came to listen and it became quiet very quickly. The shop was pretty full. A different concert too. A lot of daylight for one. Then the audience standing and Luka sitting down, very unusual. After a few songs he was joined by a couple of musicians, Suzi Ng on violin and Claudia Chambers on cajon. They worked together very well.

It was lovely hearing the new, gentle songs, and a few older ones. And what was really wonderful was that Luka played some brand new songs too. A beautiful love song about Amsterdam. Just the one guitar this time, gentle playing and singing. Very beautiful.

New Neighbours

I live up on the third floor in a city street, fortunately a street which has some big, beautiful trees. At the side of the house I have put up a small bird box, which has been up there for about three years now. Until this year a few birds showed an interest, but no nest. This year seems to be different though, as I seem to have a pair of Blue Tits showing a lot of interest. They have been flying to and fro for over a week now, beckoning each other, checking out safety and comfort. So maybe this year I will have some new neighbours.

Nothing

There are days when you just need time to think. Nothing seems to be happening and you seem unable to do very much, but the time you take is no less important than the time when you do get to do what you want. You tend to rush around all the time, running from one thing to another, your brain always full with big matters and all the little, everyday things. At times it is just too much.

In My Park

On an average day in our local park you will get to see Mallard, Grey Heron, Wood Pigeon, Crow, Jackdaw, Magpie, Robin, Chaffinch, Coot, Blue Tit, Great Tit, House Sparrow, Wren, Ring-necked Parakeet and Blackbird. They are the birds you seem to get all the time. If you are lucky you also get to see Long-tailed tit, Treecreeper, Great Spotted Woodpecker, Jay, Dunnock, Nuthatch. Today I was lucky enough to see all of these. I guess the list of birds you might see is longer, at times we get Greenfinch and Goldcrest, for example, but for one morning walk it wasn’t bad. I was especially pleased to get a great view of the woodpecker, probably my favourite bird. He flew from one tree to another, striking one great pose after another, and I had my binoculars, so I could study him at length. And it was lovely to see a pair of Nuthatch and a pair of Treecreepers. They might breed in the park this year. And much to my surprise I also got to see Tufted Duck and Cormorant today, not regular visitors to the park.

The breeding birds seem to be returning again at the moment. The first Chiffchaffs and Willow Warblers, and the Godwits are back. The first Lapwing egg has been found. So it must be spring. Now all I want are the Swifts to come whizzing past my windows again.

A Week of Books

This is the week of the book in the Netherlands. A strange phenomenon really. There is a lot of media attention for books and authors. If you buy a Dutch book you get a specially commissioned little book for free, written by one of the country’s best authors. Then, because the event is sponsored by the Railway company, that book serves as a train ticket on Sunday. There are special events, book signings, lectures. This year’s theme is France, so a lot of attention for French authors and even more for Dutch authors writing about France. So many new books. And I must confess, I do love books. Or did I mention that already.

Right now I am among the Borgia’s and the Medici’s in Italy long ago. A book by one of my favourite Dutch authors. When I was younger I always loved reading the old stuff, ninetheenth century novels. I loved Jane Austen, George Eliot and Charles Dickens. I read them all and I rememember when and where I read them. My first Dickens was “A Tale of Two Cities” and I read it during a holiday in Norway. I was staying with a friend and they had this small shelf of English books in their guest room. There I discovered Agatha Christie, and Charles Dickens. I loved the Dickens story, and finished the book very quickly. I can still clearly remember the little room, the bookshelf and the way I got into the story, even while surrounded by all the beauty of Norway. Then there was Dickens at university. We read “Great Expectations”, another wonderful story with great characters, and I wanted more of this. Talking about the book and analyzing it added to its charm somehow. At university in England I had four weeks to read four of the big ones, “Pickwick Papers”, “David Copperfield”, “Martin Chuzzlewit” and . It was winter and cold in the resident’s hall where I lived, but I enjoyed reading in my room. So I would curl up on the bed, pull the duvet over me and live the life of David Copperfield.
Jane Austen I discovered through an early television adaptation of “Pride and Prejudice”. I fell for the charms of David Rintoul, the ultimate Darcy, but also turned to the book, and then on to Austen’s other works. Great romantic stories, but so much more. Then there was George Eliot. I was asked to read “Middlemarch” at university. A real world to get involved with. A great heroine. I really should read it again soon, it is such a fascinating book.

After I graduated, I started reading all this modern stuff. I suddenly discovered this great world of authors of my own time, people still writing. I discovered Peter Ackroyd, who wrote about long ago. And I discovered modern women writers. Margaret Atwood, Beryl Bainbridge, A.S. Byatt, Penelope Lively, Rose Tremain.

Then I made an almost bigger step, back into my own language, and I started reading modern Dutch literature. I seem to stick to women authors mainly these days, and there are so many interesting ones. Renate Dorrestein, Hella Haasse, Kristien Hemmerechts, Rascha Peper, Anna Enquist, Pauline Slot, Barbara Voors. They write about issues that concern me, I recognise their thoughts and ideas, but they add to mine. They are all different, and I need to read them at different moments and for different reasons.

Then, sometimes I go back, just to reread old favourites. Or you find out that the tradition still exists, though maybe in a slightly different way. You have Philip Pullman who writes great adventures. I like the modern stuff, but I can also really enjoy something that takes me back in time.

Going through the list of the Big Read I saw so many great memories there, and I felt a few were missing. Hardly any D.H. Lawrence, one of the first real adult writers I got to read in secondary school.

Come to think of it, that was another strange introduction. I had an unusual English teacher in secondary school. She was an elderly lady, very religious, tiny and fragile, who seemed to be a bit stuck in the past. She always wore these pretty dresses, had her hair done very neatly, used a walking stick and wore glasses that were about ten years’ out of date. But she did always manage to look elegant, and she was a born teacher. Her English was a little old-fashioned and she had very strict ideas on just about everything. There were little chalk marks on the floor and the tables had to be exactly on the mark. Girls in front of the class, boys in the back. When it came to our reading lists, she would often pick a book from the library we were supposed to read. For some reason I got to read Lawrence’s “The Rainbow”. I am still surprised at that choice, it was totally unexpected for me. It wasn’t an easy book for a sixteen-year old, but I did love it and it was definitely challenging. I read much more Lawrence after that first one.

Your tastes do change though, and when I look at all the different things I’ve read. There were periods of reading about cricket, about travelling, about New York, of reading lots of theatre biographies, plays, crime novels. But I’ve always loved good stories, good characters. I can’t imagine a day without books.

Illusions

The other day I finished a Paul Auster novel, “The Book of Illusions”. It had been a while since I read one of his books, but he is a wonderful writer. I just need reminding sometimes. It has been many years since I read the “New York Trilogy”, but that is one of those books that stick in your mind, one of those baffling books that set you thinking. I’m still not sure I understand it at all, and I really should read it again. This new one is about a silent movie star, it is full of strange events and characters, a wonderful story.

Yesterday we buried our little Moritz. There is an old cemetery not too far from where we live, no longer in use, but maintained well, with lots of old trees and plants. It is a beautiful site, it feels like it was left behind in time at some point. We got permission to bury him in a small corner near the edge of the site, away from the graves but near a couple of benches. A good place for him to rest.

Last night I watched Bill Nighy on “Parkinson”. I loved him in “Love, Actually” and have always felt he was underestimated. I’ve seen him on stage and he is one of those actors you remember. I am glad to see he is enjoying success now, and am even more glad to see that he is a nice and funny man. He doesn’t seem to take himself too seriously, and I like watching a man like that.

Modern Art

More art for me today, after Mucha and Rossetti a very firm move into modern times. A friend of mine had an exhibition in a small Amsterdam gallery near the Rijksmuseum, and I went to have a look with her just before she took down all her works to make room for the next artist. I like her work very much. She used to paint trees in almost uncontrolled lines, gnarled trees, and now the lines seem transferred to the shapes of women. She has always used different backgrounds to her works like maps and pages from old books.

She had some oil paintings there, but some charcoal drawings too. Female forms drawn in simple black lines, in some cases combined with patterned wallpaper in a very beautiful way, in other cases drawn on the pages of an old book. And huge paintings of women drawn on cardboard boxes that once contained IKEA bookcases. Tiny pictures as well. Her works range from the poetic and the erotic to the harsh and realistic.

Above a black piano three small drawings of women in black ink. Drawings on pages from an old book.

The gallery was a beautiful space, two adjoining rooms separated by sliding doors, big windows on both sides so a lot of light. The place was once probably a posh appartment for someone. Some of the smaller paintings exhibited were of very stylish rooms, lavishly decorated, represented in small oil paintings. Small cupboards next to the sliding doors containing small paintings and objects collected by the artist, in some way related to the works. Newspaper articles, photographs, books, postcards, advertisements from magazines. It all fit together very well.

Some of the other oil paintings are bigger and they have a dreamlike quality, painted in light colours, women seen from both the back and the front, often near or in the sea.

Then I walked on to FOAM, the Amsterdam Museum for Photography. They had an exhibition of photographs by Man Ray and his model Lee Miller. A fascinating exhibition with some beautiful and well-known pictures, but also some small contact prints at least as interesting. Some of the big names of the era, like Tristan Tzara, but a few unknown models too. I like black and white photographs a lot, and this is a nice collection.

And now I just got back from a concert by Tom Barman, singer of the Belgian band dEUS. He played some of the band’s songs, and some covers of songs by other greats. I enjoyed watching him, and I enjoyed the simplicity of the concert. Just two men, a guitar and a piano, but great songs and a great performance.

For Moritz

This morning one of our guinea pigs died. He was over six years old, very old for a guinea pig, and he hadn’t been well for a few days. He didn’t want to eat anymore and he almost faded away. I don’t think he suffered much, and he was very old.

We first got him over six years ago, together with his little brother. The animals were only about six weeks old, tiny, but lovely. The brother died when he was just two, after having some problems eating. Then we got another companion for our Moritz, a dark-coloured, different type of guinea pig. When this one arrived he was scared of these big people and he was forever hiding behind his big fellow guinea pig. They got on very well, sometimes having their little arguments over food, but they could cuddle up very sweetly when it was cold.

Moritz was getting old, though, he had trouble with his teeth and we had to cut his vegetables into small pieces for him. He could really enjoy his sweetcorn, fennel or cucumber though. And he loved little slices of apple. If you stroked him after giving him his favourites he would let out this purr of contentment. Then, just sometimes, if you cuddled him, he would lick your nose to let you know he liked you too. But he had been gradually getting a bit slower, though he never seemed less content.

It is sad to lose him because we had him for so long, and he was such a trusting, gentle little creature. I am glad he didn’t get to suffer too much though, but we will miss him.

Rossetti

Dante Gabriel Rossetti is an unusual painter. Superficially Rossetti and Mucha have a lot in common, they both paint women with long flowing hair surrounded by symbolic items. But their tones and colours are different, and they create different moods. It was nice to see both exhibitions in the same week though, and to be able to think about the two artists together.

The exhibition at the Van Gogh Museum is interesting. I enjoyed the variety of items there, they show the breadth of Rossetti’s work and career. The early sketches are small and simple, and I loved the imperfections in some of them, they show a young artist trying to find his way. You can see the gradual development of the painter, the influence of the other Pre-Raphaelites, the move from small drawings to his paintings of women.

I liked two paintings of his rooms, some pieces of jewelry that he painted placed next to the paintings, and I liked the photographs of models and other painters. I guess in that sense the whole exhibition reminded me of the Mucha too. I enjoyed being back with the Pre-Raphaelites, seeing these colours, the women and the themes and symbolism. The colours always get to me, though I must admit I also really loved seeing all the small sketches, like a series of sketches of Elizabeth Siddall. And I loved seeing the portrait he did of Maria Zambaco. A close friend once told me about Maria Zambaco, so seeing the portrait reminded me of him too.

I think I’ll go back again later on, just to see some pieces again. It is nice to have this exhibition so close to home and to be able to go and see it again when I feel like it.

At the museum they had a great book on Schiele, which I could not resist. I love Schiele’s drawings, because they always seem so simple, but they are so unusual and there is so much emotion in them. This book has a lot of drawings and watercolours and it looks great. Just a lot of pictures and very little text. The Van Gogh has a great bookshop for modern art anyway, always a temptation.

I must own up to an even tougher moment at the museum though. I went for a coffee just before midday at the cafetaria, and spent about three minutes staring at a piece of cake. It did look good, and I was hungry. I reached out for a plate to put it on, and then I managed to change my mind and walk away with just the coffee. It was a close thing though.

Chicken Soup and Stewed Pears

Today is my grandmother’s birthday. She was born in 1909, and she died when I was about eight. I don’t remember all that much about her, but I have no bad memories of her. She was a kind woman who loved her children and grandchildren. She had a tough life. She married young, in 1929, when my mother was already on her way. She had eight children, six survived into adulthood. She lived in a small village, the family never had much money, and she had to deal with a great many problems. She suffered from diabetes and she died when she was only 60 years old.

I only have a few memories, of the house where she lived, of the food she made for anyone who happened to drop in, of her hospitality. She made great chicken soup and delicious stewed pears. She was a big woman, and that always felt good and comfortable. I just wish I had more memories.

Sometimes I wonder what she would think of me, whether my world would not be completely foreign to her. I live in the big city, I have a career and my own life. I have moved away from all she knew. I hope she would be proud of me.

Meanwhile, we are in the middle of Lent. I have decided to hold on to the rules I started out with some ten years’ ago. A co-worker of mine at the time was a firm believer in the values of Lent. He would eat very little these 40 days and you could always watch him grow thinner in the period before Easter. His rules were very strict, and over the weeks this would also affect his moods. He wasn’t much fun just before Easter. I did admire his determination though.
After a couple of years I decided to join him, and the first few times I stuck quite rigourously to “The List”, as he called it. These days I still try to do that, but after a year of starting to faint after a couple of weeks I adjusted the list a bit. But still, no sweets or cookies, no alcohol, and eating less than I usually do. And more exercise and reflection. It is a challenge, because you can do without the luxuries, and you can eat simple meals that still taste good, but the temptation is always there. It always feels good to know you have resisted it, and it isn’t even that hard most of the time. Then again, it’s only been a week so far.

What I like about this is that it is finite, this is not a regime you have to submit to throughout the year. And food tastes so good at Easter!! Now I feel a bit hungry most of the time, but at the same time I eat more healthy stuff than I usually do. I grab a banana or an apple instead of something sweet. And suddenly I really notice the smell of food, of fresh bread when I cycle past a bakery, or of whatever the neighbours are cooking. And my food tastes so much better. You learn to appreciate again what you always take for granted. At the same time I do realise I don’t really miss all the snacks between meals that much, in the end it is all in the mind.

Exhibitions

Another busy weekend, but very varied. On Saturday I visited the Alphonse Mucha exhibition in Rotterdam. I have seen his work before, I know all the posters, and I visited the “Slav Epic” when I was in the Czech republic a few years ago. It is a good exhibition, because they have some of the famous posters, they have studies for the Slav Epic, but they also have some of the lesser-known small paintings. There were some beautiful works there. And they had some perfume bottles and other objects, very beautiful and delicate. I also liked several series of photographs, both studies for some of the bigger paintings, but also pictures of the artist, his studio, and a lovely one of Paul Gauguin, playing the piano in his bare legs.

At the same museum I visited three very different exhibitions of photographs. One was a series of 60 pictures by Vanity Fair photographer Edward Steichen. He took pictures of the big stars of the thirties, including my favourite, Garbo. This was an interesting show of some of the famous faces of the time, all very glamorous and beautiful. Right next to this one was a series of pictures by Disfarmer, all pictures of farmers and their families from one village taken some 40 to 60 years’ ago. Some at the same time as the Steichen pictures, but they couldn’t be more different. No glamour here, but worn faces of hardworking people in their Sunday clothes. Men, women, children, their ages hard to determine. Most looking very serious, only a few smiling or looking happy. One or two only of the women looking comfortable in nice clothes. Very impressive. Then, for complete contrast, a small exhibition of modern photographs of “Dutch Heroines”. Modern glamour, lots of colour and more nudity. I wonder if people still go to see those pictures in 60 years time.

Elevated Renovations

Sitting at my desk at work is fascinating at the moment. The building opposite is being renovated and for now that means the insides are torn out. I think the building has about ten floors, and there is a skip hanging somewhere near the ninth floor. The building is big and black, part of the wall in the front has been torn out, and there is this red skip hanging in mid-air. It fascinates me. There are all sorts of rules about safety, and this is actually possible. I see big pieces of wood, rock and metal just missing the skip and falling down, and at times there is a huge cloud of dust. It is pretty distracting.

I finally got my cellphone today, apparently I am the last one in the company to get one. That was definitely my choice, I don’t like the things. I am sure they are very useful, and I am also sure they are addictive. We’ll see how it goes. For now I just have to work out what to do, which is hard enough.

Coaching

Yesterday I talked to my coach again for the first time in a while. I have a coach at work who helps me out once in a while. He worked on my project for even longer than me, and I’ve known him for about seven years now. He has moved on to another project, so I thought that would be the end of that coaching for me. He decided to stay my coach though, and I am really pleased about that. I guess we are alike in many ways, and I have learned a lot from him over the past seven years. I admire his dedication, his complete integrity and his determination And he is just a very nice man.

It was good to talk to him again, because he made me think about a few things. I guess that is the best thing a coach can do. I coach someone too, and I tend to be a teacher at times rather than a coach. Though I like to think differently, of course.

I also got a chance to talk to him about a situation that has been bugging me all week, and which I wasn’t all that sure about. Someone I have worked with for a long time kept on at me about something I was supposed to have done wrong, but he only heard half the story. That always gets to me, and I don’t usually know what to do about it. I talked to my coach about this, and he confirmed my ideas about handling the situation, so that was reassuring. In our organisation it isn’t always clear where responsibilities lie, but I’m glad I can still get it right. It annoys me though, that after so many years at work and reaching the position I’m in people still get to me like that. And what got to me is that I thought this man would know me better than to simply believe such a story.

Today was all about money for me. I’m reading a book on dealing with money more sensibly, and that provides a whole different set of challenges. I will try and keep track of my money for a while, writing down every cent I spend. See where it all goes. That should be an interesting exercise…

Taking Care

Another strange day. There was a presentation today I was invited to. The city awards an environmental and nature award every year, and this year it was to be presented to four organisations that have worked hard to create an inventory of the animals and plants present in the city. One organisation does birds, another one specifically swifts, another plants, and another one works in a more general way. To my mind four organisations which deserve a little credit. I know some of the people involved, all volunteers, and they are all committed to the work they do.

So I was surprised by the ceremony. The alderman who was supposed to hand out the award wasn’t there, a colleague took over. I don’t think he has all that much sympathy for these organisations because he is responsible for the city’s building programme. Animals sometimes get in the way of development. So he took about three minutes to hand out checks, read a couple of lines on each organisation, and that was it. It was pretty cynical really. I felt embarrassed to be part of this organisation.

Events like this always make me wonder if I am in the right business at all. I was also surprised by a couple of colleagues, men who work for the same company I work for, and who only thought of new legislation to protect animals and plants as a problem, and who would probably ignore it if they thought they could get away with it. One of the reasons why I like the project I work on is that we do take the environment serious, and we try to be as careful as we can. I work hard to make it possible for birds to nest on our sites wherever there is a little space.

It can be so easy sometimes to spare the environment while you are at work, it can be as easy as starting at one end of a site rather than the other, or as asking an ecologist to move animals or plants out of the way. What is wrong with working carefully and saving a few lives as you work, even if they are “just” animal lives. What is wrong with people these days.

Dreams

This morning, or last night, I had a weird dream. It was a strange mixture of fiction and memories from long ago. I usually forget my dream almost as soon as I open my eyes, but somehow my dream this morning stayed with me. I think it was my dream this morning, and I think I woke up in the middle of it, courtesy of my friendly alarm. The dream felt like the beginning of a mystery novel, so I wrote down bits of it, before it fades.

The strange thing about it was the mix. Parts of the dream were very real, and took place in my old secondary school. I couldn’t see all of it though, and it felt unfamiliar. There was a girl in my dream, but it wasn’t me. It was hard for me to concentrate on work this morning, because these images kept going through my mind and I wanted to hold on to them somehow.

I read a book a while ago by one of my favourite Dutch authors on the way she writes her novels. She describes the way stories find her, and she just has to work out what story this is. It’s not as easy as it sounds, but sometimes I recognise something of what she says. Like the way the story was there this morning, but it was just the start. Or maybe something in the middle. It was just so intriguing, I want to know what happens next. Last year I started another story, which got lost a little while ago. Starting point for this one was an image I had before my eyes when I was in Kirkwall, Orkney last year.

I had to catch a tram into work this morning because I didn’t get a chance to fix the flat tire on my bike over the weekend. I’m no good at fixing flats anyway, and always depend on the help of my partner. He fixed my tire before I even got home this afternoon, wonderful!

But I digress. I like cycling in the morning, the fresh air, a little exercise, not being dependent on public transport, and gradually moving from the world of work to the world of my home. But sometimes it isn’t so bad travelling by tram because you get a different perspective again. When I cycle I always feel rushed, I want to go faster, and I don’t like getting stuck behind slower traffic. I can even get pretty aggressive. Travelling by tram is more relaxing in that respect. Once I am on the tram there is nothing I can do about the pace, so I just sit back and enjoy the view. And I always see things I don’t get to see when I’m cycling.

Exam

The day of the exam. I had to go to Leiden to take it, one of those big halls that used to be there for cattle markets and are now used for all sorts of big events, concerts and fairs. I remember taking a linguistics exam there long ago, when I was a student, and I remember even further back seeing the Osmonds in concert there. Different event and atmosphere altogether. Great fun though. But maybe I’ll describe that one some other time.

I guess it was pretty much what I expected. A lot of people, I was number 407, and there were more. Lots of little wooden tables and chairs in neat rows, the same pieces of paper on all of them, small pencil and rubber. Quite a few attendants to help out the people who got a bit lost. Some people slightly nervous, a lot of smoking outside the hall and in the lobby.

We had forty minutes to do the exam, forty multiple choice questions, and had to stay in our seats the whole time. I think I needed about 25 minutes, so plenty of time to have a good look round. It was good to see so many different people there, many young people and a few older ones, I think about as many men as women, and from different ethnic backgrounds. I also recognised the hall from my earlier visits. I remembered that the setup was exactly the same for my linguistics exam, but I wasn’t sure about the concert. I think I know where the stage was, but it was dark outside then, and it looked different. It was well over 20 years ago, too.
Anyway, back to the exam itself. I took some test exams at home all this week, and I did okay. I knew what to expect and I got what I expected. Some of the questions weren’t very clear, and some were ambiguous. I had my doubts about eight of the questions, but I think I guessed most of those correctly. This was one of the strangest exams I’ve ever had to take though, for me at least.

You need the certificate to be able to open a bar or café serving alcoholic beverages, so I was wondering if that is what all those people want to do. Will we have so many more bars and pubs here in a couple of years’ time? I wonder how many people passed as well.

After the exam I went on to The Hague. I was pleasantly surprised to find a new book by one of my favourite authors, the Belgian Kristien Hemmerechts. She writes books that are sometimes hard to read because she writes about loss in a way that really hits home. For a while a couple of years ago they came too close and I couldn’t read them. It must be so gratifying to be able to write like that, to be able to move people that way.

When I got home I checked the answers to the exam on the net and it looks like I passed. I got two out of forty wrong, and you are allowed sixteen (?) mistakes. This isn’t the official result yet though, that should be available in about six weeks. It should be alright.

Now the next question is, what am I going to do with all this new spare time. Have fun, maybe….

Colours

Spent the first part of the morning with my crayons colouring in a map. Always great fun. I sometimes need to do that for a meeting, just to make sure everybody knows what we are talking about and that we are talking about the same thing. You do get some funny looks though. The map came in very useful though when I had to chair my meeting in the afternoon, and I was glad to have it there.

Went home early with a huge headache to find Luka’s new cd waiting for me there. I decided to take things easy, so I went to lie down on the couch after putting on the cd. And it was lovely. I didn’t fall asleep, but I did feel very relaxed. Very soothing record. Mainly new songs, I hadn’t heard them before, and they were a bit un-Luka. Nice though. And finally a recording of “I’ll Walk Beside You”, which he does so beautifully live.

Hair

Just back from the hairdressers. I don’t like going to get my hair cut, which is probably why I don’t do it often enough. I made an appointment, but still had to wait for nearly half an hour. At that point I get tempted to have my hair cut really short. And I never know how to explain what I want. Then again, half the time I don’t even know what I want. I usually leave it to itself a bit, and then at some point I will decide I want a complete change and I will have it cut really short again. Then again I usually do that when there is some sort of crisis in my life and I really want to change my life rather than my hairstyle.

Pieces of the Puzzle

Sometimes when you read something it suddenly strikes a chord, and it helps you understand something about yourself you didn’t understand before. People are so complicated, and I know we can never really understand ourselves or each other. You just learn more and more as you go along. And every time I find a little piece of the puzzle it really excites me.

You can find something in a novel, but this time it was a book on psychotherapy by Lilian Rubin. These things always take time to land, but they also keep you thinking. And then you have to work out what you want to do about it. So now I have something to keep me going again. More later..

On Sunday I went walking again after a long time. The dunes, and it was wonderful. A very cold day, but bright and dry. I saw some Woodpeckers, various types of Tits, and some beautiful Smews. The light and the skies were beautiful. It was pretty cold, but not too cold to walk.

Veggie

I have something called a “vegetable subscription” at a nearby health food shop. It means you pick up a bag of vegetables every week, you never know in advance what you get, but it is all organic. Sometimes it is pretty straightforward, carrots, onions, cabbage or mushrooms, but sometimes they are strange looking roots I don’t know the name of. I have a very good cook book, so I look the unfamiliar ones up and find out how to prepare them. Our old lady friend knows them all, and she has been known to give tips on the preparation. I picked up another bag today, it contained bean sprouts, endive, white cabbage and two other things I don’t know the English name for. Time to try out more new recipes.

Idols

Tonight I accidentally ended up watching “Idols”, I’d never seen it before. It is an amazing programme. People actually watch this every week…. It is embarrassing.

Chaos

One of those mornings when nothing goes right. I had to catch a bus before going to work for some routine testing at the hospital. Not an Amsterdam hospital, but one in a nearby town. Getting there wasn’t too bad, I was early, so it took the usual 30 minutes. Getting back took twice as long because of the traffic. It always amazes me, so many cars, all travelling in the same direction, standing still half the time. I am so glad I can cycle into work every morning and am not dependent on any kind of public transport. I’ve reached the stage where I don’t mind the rain, and plenty of that this morning, or the occasional flat tire, which means an hour walking home. Twenty minutes on your bike is a good start and end to a working day.

Actually, thinking back, I never really did mind the rain. I remember when I went to secondary school, cycling every day to the other side of town. When I had just started, thirteen years’ old, and it was pouring down. My mother was waiting for me at home, worried about me cycling in the rain, and I had actually enjoyed myself. It helps clear your mind and wake you up.

Then, when I finally got to work, a request to go and pick up some train tickets at central station before one o’clock. That meant going straightaway because of a meeting from 11 to 1. And I was supposed to finish a report this morning. In the end I gave up. Sometimes you just have to stop resisting and give in. I finished my report in the afternoon instead, and postponed a few other things.

Meanwhile, after all that rain, around 11, there was some glorious sunshine, the kind that makes you want to go out and walk for miles and miles. It was a good day for walking, really, in spite of the rain. I can just imagine what the dunes looked like today, and what it would have felt like to walk in the wind and the rain. So was I doing sitting in an office all day?

Well, I had a couple of meetings, very interesting. A change of cast means a change of meeting. You can see it happening. We used to be a steady group of six, meeting every week to discuss current matters and take decisions. We still are six, but a new chairman, and that makes a huge change. It will be interesting to see all this develop over the next few months.

The rain had stopped when I cycled home, so I could go running again. Strong wind, so I ran a slightly shorter route, but it was good anyway. Now that I’ve started I want to stick to it.

After dinner an old episode of Bill Oddie’s second series on birding. This first episode I ever saw of the series was all about Shetland, and I remembered parts of it very clearly. I guess it was one of the reasons why I went birdwatching up in Shetland last year. Watching the programme now I could remember thinking how wonderful it would be to see these sites, and I can remember visiting them. I saw the Phalaropes and Red-throated Divers up at the Lake of Funzie on Fetlar, the huge Gannet and Guillemot colonies on Noss, and managed to get within a few feet of the Puffins, and I got to Mousa to see the tiny Storm Petrels come back to their nests late at night. Oddie captures the magic of Shetland very well. Now I want to go back again.

Sunday Afternoon

Lazy on a Sunday afternoon. Not really. Just went running again, in between showers. Another rainy day in Amsterdam. Running went well, I managed more than when I went before, a good sign. I went a bit faster too. Sunday is a big day for running in the park, a lot of people out there. I prefer to go just after it gets dark, I guess, but today wasn’t too bad.

Our old lady friend has been ill for about a week now, so we went out and did some shopping for her too yesterday. She is so set in her ways and she has some unusual habits. I had to get her some coffee creamer, but when I arrived at her appartment yesterday she still had a few bottles and some little plastic cups in there. Just like she has about 60 rolls of toilet paper in her bathroom. She is a bit like a hamster. We threw so much out when we helped her move into the home, and now her room is gradually being filled again. She lives alone, she doesn’t have to cook her own meals, but her fridge is completely full, she has more in there than I do in mine. Actually, I don’t know if that is a reflection on her or on me…

I spent part of today looking at old photographs. I started thinking about the Swiss mountains because of the film, and then one thing lead to another. There are still so many beautiful places in this world.

This, That and...

Went running again today. I surprised myself, I actually wanted to. Hope I can keep this up for a while. Last night I had a lot of energy after running, so it might really do me good.

I had a day off today, and I wanted to go out and buy some new clothes, but I couldn’t find anything I liked. There probably is something wrong with me. The sale is upon us and I can’t find anything at all. I saw some red shoes I liked. I always seem to look for red. I’ve had a pair of red shoes for longer than I can remember. I recently saw a pictures of myself as a child wearing red shoes. I can remember other pairs, and I was told some time ago one of the reasons I got the job I have now were the red shoes. The man who recommended me for the job figured someone wearing red shoes must be the kind of person suited to the company. I am glad he didn’t tell me when I applied for the job. He still looks at my shoes always, and I know he doesn’t approve of the practical ones I usually wear, and he always notices when I wear high heels. It is so funny. But anyway, no red shoes today, so I’ll keep looking. Maybe I should go down to the PC Hooft-straat. There I saw a whole shop window with only red shoes. Then again, the PC,? Not my scene really.

I did love the third Lord of the Rings film. A worthy end to the trilogy. What can I say about it? I think Peter Jackson did a great job, but everyone has said so already. Technically it was great work. All those fighting scenes, the dead, the Orcs, the riders. The city and Sauron. But I guess that isn’t really the thing that makes the films interesting, it really is all about the characters and their journeys. Well, to me anyway. Frodo’s journey for one thing. The story of the Frodo, Sam and Gollum and their relationships. And the human fellowship keeps you involved too. The way Denethor treats Faramir makes you angry and makes you feel for the son. The hopelessness of his battle. Then the relationship between Elrond and Arwen, their great love for each other. And Theoden and Eowen. And the neverending loyalty between Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, and their loyalty to Frodo and his task.

I love to watch Ian McKellen. It is amazing what that man can do by slightly changing his facial expression. The close-ups of him were impressive. I remember watching him at work on stage in London a few times and being equally impressed. I saw him play Richard III at the National Theatre, very threatening. In “Napoli Milionaria” he was extremely funny and he did make me laugh, and when I watched him play the lead in “Bent” he was so moving. Gandalf is so different again, and a different medium and he does it again. The same goes for Bernard Hill, really, a wonderful British actor. Wonderful on stage and again here.

I sat quite high up in the cinema, looking down at all those mountains, and loved the view. It makes me want to go walking in the mountains again myself. I went walking in the Swiss mountains a couple of years’ ago, totally unprepared really, but it was so beautiful. Pretty dangerous too at times, and looking back I can still be amazed at some of the tracks I walked, and some of the paths through the snow high up, but it was beautiful. I should keep up the running, so I can do one of the longer walks when I get a chance. And I had a lovely shower on a very hot day under a freezing cold waterfall, that I will always remember...

Meanwhile, I am back with Luka Bloom. The Amsterdam concert. He just did his Dylan cover “Make You Feel My Love”, which always moves me. And then there is “Monsoon” which cheers me up, “Perfect Groove” which makes me unable to sit still. At his concerts there are songs that move you inside, and for some reason it is always a different song that does that for me, and there are songs that make you want to move like “You Couldn’t Have Come at a Better Time”, when I hear that I can no longer sit still. And then there is “Delirious” where you just sit and watch and are amazed. What is it about this man, the voice, the songs that is so special? But I think I’ve said all of this before. It just never ceases to amaze me.

Running

Today I went running again for the first time in ages. I can’t remember when I last went. I live very close to a park, so I don’t have to go far. I could feel it was the first time in ages, and I had to stop a few times. But I’m glad I went. Don’t know if I’ll still feel that way tomorrow…

New Year

After the party. The new year. The year started in style with snow here in Amsterdam. We went for a real winter walk yesterday, cold, white and wet. The other park this time, it looked lovely.

We had some friends over for New Years’ Eve, a couple from the north and a couple from the south. One little boy included. We’ve all known each other for years, but we only meet up once in a while because we live so far apart. We are all such different people, but at the same time when we get together there is always so much to talk about, to catch up on, and enough common interest. It makes for a relaxing time. At midnight we opened our bottle of champagne. Then we went up on the roof to watch the fireworks. The lovely thing about Amsterdam is that there aren’t all that many very tall buildings. So even from our building you can see quite far in alle directions, and we could see fireworks all around. We could definitely hear them down in the street. The neighbours joined us up on the roof and they brought some of their own fireworks. It was pretty cold, but not too bad.

It is always interesting to have people in the house, especially like this, for more than a few hours. I live in a rather simple place, an appartment, four rooms, no great luxury. Two of the rooms have a gasheater, no double-glazing, so the house tends to be relatively cold. I am used to it, and often I don’t have the heating on, I just put on an extra jumper and a thick pair of socks. If you are used to a new house with central heating this can be a problem. One of our guests kept her coat on for a while and only took that off after we had had the heating on for a couple of hours. She then borrowed a thick jumper of one of the other guests and wouldn’t let that go. Meanwhile, to me the room felt incredibly hot.

Then last night a short visit to our old lady friend in the nursing home. She played Bingo in the home on New Years’ Eve and had won some chocolate and a bar of soap. Then she also had a little party with the people on her own floor. Last year she was still in hospital and spent the evening in her bed, listening to her little radio around midnight. Good to see her back like this again. She did spend most of yesterday sleeping to recover. She’ll be 90 this year.Walking there and back was nice, because by now the snow had stopped, but the pavements, trees and bikes were all covered in a beautiful white layer of snow.

This is almost the end of my end of year holiday. It feels like I’ve been home for weeks, and it has been over two weeks. Work seems so far away, and I really need to dig deep again to find the things I’m supposed to do next week. I’m sure I’ll get there. It’s been good staying at home for a bit though, and doing all of those things I never get round to. The house is clean again, I’m still busy sorting out stuff, I’ve finally started on the books. And I’ve been writing and reading a lot.

I decided a little while ago to get rid of a lot of things, to make room in the house, and I started that a few weeks ago. The first loads have already gone, but I guess they were the easy ones, the ones you think of the moment you make the decision. Now that I’ve started on the books it is more difficult. Which ones do you really want to keep? Which ones are you going to read again? I find that some books have been in my bookcase for over twenty years, I’ve never
thought much about them, and then you decide you want to read them again for some reason. Then there are the books I want to read again before I give them away, but there are so many. Do I really want to spend time reading them? These are the books I probably wouldn’t have read again anyway, and I’d rather just read want I really want to read. And most of the books I am getting rid of I can find at the library anyway, so if I do want to read them again at some point, I can.

Maybe my resolution for this year should be not to buy any new books, but to read all the things in my bookcase I haven’t read yet. And to visit the library more. I could finally finish “The Lord of the Rings” maybe…. Meanwhile, I have started reading a Beryl Bainbridge book. She is a wonderful author to come back to once in a while. This one is about the voyage of the Titanic, so I guess I know the end, but that doesn’t really matter.