A Bestiary

When I was at university I studied two subjects in great detail . One was Restoration Comedy, those stylish, witty plays full of adultery, double entendre, lechery, and the odd virtuous character. The other was the medieval bestiary, the descriptions of animals often not seen by the author, both in pictures and in words. Ancient language and imaginative pictures.

Last week the actress Isabella Rossellini presented her version of the Bestiary, the Bestiaire d'Amour. Rossellini has been an actress and a model, still is, but she has been interested in biology for a long time. She has taken time to study the subject and has combined it with her work as an actress. This has resulted in a number of short films on the reproduction of all kinds of animals. She plays them herself, the duck, the hamster, the squid, explaining the peculiarities of each animal's sex life. The seduction, the sexual act or absence of one, giving birth, taking care of the babies. She explains the facts with a great understanding and a great sense of humour. The infinite variety of life is illustrated in her stories.

The short films are now part of a live theatre performance. There is a lectern for her lecture, for much of the performance she is dressed in simple, stylish black which does not detract from the films, the stories or the props. The stories are illustrated on stage with various props and one or two costume changes, all carelessly discarded and left on the stage. She tells her story quietly, gently, but with the same sense of humour you see in the films, and with passion.

She is obviously fascinated by her subject, the animals, she knows what she is talking about, and her acting enable her to inhabit the animals rather than just talk about them. Watching her was a joy.

Leonard

When I last saw Leonard Cohen I didn't think I would get to see him on stage again. He toured the world for the fifth year in a row, and I saw him for the sixth time. I travelled to Bruges, Bruxelles and Ghent, and attended the concert here in the Westerpark in Amsterdam. The first concert I saw was in Bruges, on a rainy evening, outside in a park. It was a beautiful setting, a festival site with big pink Flamingos stuck on lamp posts. Umbrellas, rain, a fairly small stage, and intimate surroundings. Martha Wainwright opened the show for him, but soon after he did without an opening act. He needed the time for his own show.

A friend would be joining me but he got stuck in traffic and arrived late, so he ended up a little further back in the crowd. The decoration of the venue lead him to send me one of the best text messages I ever received: "I will meet you after the concert at the crashed flamingo". I felt very Cambridge spies. Just one of my memories of that night, along with the umbrellas, the intimacy.

Leonard had just gotten back to touring, I had read some reports, but was not entirely sure what to expect. I had never heard him sing live before, I had only come to appreciate his music a few years before the concerts because I was living with a man who was a great fan. It took a while for me to get used to the sound, the voice, and to learn to appreciate those and the words. We travelled to Bruges from Amsterdam, full of expectation, but not too sure about what we would get, but we were not disappointed. It was just wonderful to hear all those songs we knew so well, to see this man perform on stage, such a wonderful personality. He kept saying nice things about the members of his band, a little too much maybe. During later concerts he kept his thankyous much shorter.

That first concert was quite intimate. Maybe they chose smaller venues because there was no indication just how many people might turn up. A few days after the first concert he came to Amsterdam, to the Westerpark. Bigger than the Minnewaterpark, more open, but a little less wet too. During the concert we even got a beautiful rainbow. More room here, more air, a different atmosphere. But still the magic of the songs, the voice and the man.

For the next tours the venues seemed to get bigger. The winter concerts indoor, but a preference for outdoor in the summer, the big square in Gent, a magical venue, surrounded by very old building in the evening light, and the Olympic Stadium in Amsterdam. It took me a while to remember that, as a member of the forum, I could use advance booking so I could get good seats for most venues. In Amsterdam, the last concert at the Ziggo Dome, I was in row 4, a great view. This was the final European concert, one day before his 79th birthday. Lots of singing in the audience too that night.

I still find it hard to believe I got to see this man in concert six times, enjoyed every single time, and found special moments in all concerts. I got to appreciate different songs, at different concerts. I completely love "Famous Blue Raincoat", and now I understand why that is the one everyone seems to be waiting for.

It was strange, the setlist remained more or less the same over the years, the jokes were often the same, the introductions, but the familiarity gave the concerts their intimacy. Small touches changed, but there was a shared past and experience that added to it all. In the end it was all about the songs, those beautiful words and feelings, and about the man, the gentleness, the humility and the joy. It is hard to describe it all, to put it into words, all I know is that they are evenings I will never forget.

Hella

A few years ago I watched a documentary on the writer Hella Haasse. It was an interview, held in her own appartment in the centre of Amsterdam. Watching this documentary I recognised the place, the view from her window. It was almost in the park that is my backyard, close to the city centre, and on my way into and home from work. I often walk past there on my way to the centre. From the day I saw that documentary I always looked up to that building as I cycled or walked past and thought of the lady in there.

Over the years I have read most of her books, I have enjoyed them, almost lived them, and they have come alive for me in other ways too. On a cycling holiday in the eastern part of the country I recognised the landscapes and houses she described in the Dutch historical novels, and I could see the world she created in them. I could just imagine running into one of the characters.

Watching her on television she always struck me as a very sensible, kind person. The kind of person you would like to get to know. She seemed like a person with a strong opinion, a sense of humour and great compassion, which is what you find in her books as well. An intelligent woman.

When I read that she had died it was a shock. She was 93, I knew she was frail, but still. Knowing that she is no longer in that building at the entrance to the park is a sad thought, and it will be a while before I don't look up anymore.

Oma

Three generations

My grandmother's birthday again. She was born 102 years ago, and she died 42 years ago. When she was born most of the twentieth century was still to come. Neither Amundsen nor Scott, nor anyone else, had reached the South Pole. No big wars to end all wars yet. Hardly any cars or trains, no real big cities, very few people taking holidays abroad. When she died, at the end of the sixties, there were no computers, no mobile phones, just a couple of tv channels. We have come so far in such a short time, and it feels like an entire way of life has vanished in just one generation.

Life is Skittles

Meteorologists everywhere tell me spring started today. So can one of them also tell me why my feet are so cold, why I am shivering even though I have the heating on? I know my house isn't the best insulated in the street, but still. Those same meteorologists also tell me that temperatures will go below zero during the nights still this week. So I will continue to be cold for a while. And yet again, in the tree opposite my living room window this afternoon I saw a couple of pigeons. Very romantic, obviously preparing for spring. So I guess, it's just around the corner, really, just around the corner. And if I try really hard, I can see it heading this way. Slowly.

Wellness

I have rediscovered the sauna. Over the past couple of years life was busy. Always rushing, not necessarily achieving all that much, but rushing anyway. And just lately, I have taken the time to go swimming again. Not feeling rushed, but taking my time. And after swimming I sit or lie down and relax in the sauna. I get warm, just lie there, and there isn't anything else I can do really. I guess you need to make sure you don't fall asleep, but that is more or less it. Lie back, close your eyes and get nice and warm. I like that in these cold winter times. After spending much of the day in the house, getting a bit chilly, it is just lovely to get warmed up again. And to be forced not to do anything except soak up the heat. A girl could get used to that.

Lenette

There is a very Dutch theatre art form, cabaret. It is comedy, sometimes political, topical, which goes a little beyond comedy. The best performers manage to make you laugh till your sides hurt, while making you think as well. They all have their own message, their own style, their own brand of humour. I have my favourites.

One of the best is Lenette van Dongen. After hearing it all from the men, it is good to hear modern life as experienced by a woman. It is a different perspective, and one closer to my own. I went to see her new programme, and it was all it should be. Not too much politics, but plenty of modern life in all its absurdities. The latest trends in outdoor gear, compulsive happiness, social media, electric toothbrushes all made an appearance. At times maybe a little too close for comfort. So, yes, I laughed, I recognised what Lenette said, I even have that very electric toothbrush. So I took the message home, but it didn't weigh me down. Just right.

Guilty Pleasures

Over the weekend I went over to have dinner with a couple of friends. On the way I went to get some chocolates for them. Not just chocolates, actually, but Puccini chocolates, the most exquisite little chocolate works of art you can find here in Amsterdam, and some of the most unusual flavours. And just as I had ordered a box for my friends I heard myself ordering a second one. Just for me. Not a big box, the smallest they have. But still. I did feel guilty, carrying this box home, these lovely big pieces of chocolate with all their exotic tastes.

And over the past few days I have eaten them all. Cranberry, Pecan, Mint, Vanilla Poppyseed, Rum Currant, Honey, Rhubarb. Getting the box out in the morning, taking one, checking in the little booklet which one it was, then slowly taking small bites and enjoying the taste. Repeating the same ritual in the evening, always taking just the one. So, guilty? Just a little. Pleasure? A great deal.

Cricklewood

I subscribe to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography's daily email, which means I get the life story of a king, a queen, a statesman, an artist, a scientist in a daily email. Someone famous, someone who has made a contribution to society, a life written down in a few hundred words. If you check the website you get a picture as well. Sometimes I don't take the time to read the life, sometimes I learn something new about someone I already knew something about, and sometimes I make the acquaintance of an unknown.

Today it was the life story of our man in Cricklewood, and that can be only one man. I first heard the voice of Alan Coren when I started listening to the News Quiz, many years ago. I loved listening to the man's voice and to his stories. He was able to tell a story with passion, with just the right turn of phrase, and could hold your attention. When he was on a roll I could be laughing aloud for a while, just listening to him talk. He told stories in a way only he could, and you never quite knew where he was heading. His dancing lesson from the sergeant was a great example, and from the way he told the story you could see it all happening right in front of
your eyes. And just once he burst into song, and gave a wonderful rendition of Lili Marleen, in German, much to the amazement of the others on the News Quiz, and, I'm sure, many members of the audience. I used to record the programme on cassette and listen to the various episodes over and over again. Listening to old recordings the same stories can still make me laugh every time.

Some people in your life have the power to bring a smile to your face when you hear or see their name, when you see their picture or hear their voice. Usually these are people you know personally, that you care about and that you share good memories with. And just occasionally it is someone you don't know personally, but who has made you laugh. Alan Coren is one of those people for me, listening to his stories again brings a smile to my face, reading his life story did as well.

View From the Window

In the office, early this morning.

Anticipation

Sometimes you see it before you feel it.

DIY

It's been a long time since I've done any DIY, I realised this morning, as I stood there in the attic with a paint roller in my hand. I still knew how to do all that, but I had to borrow some old clothes as I no longer have my work clothes. Meanwhile, a lot was going on around me, and there were the usual debates on the best and most efficient way to get the work done. Suddenly you understand why those tough guys working on the roads stand around with their hands in their pockets so much, there is a lot to think about. We got the work done quickly this time. And very efficiently, I'm sure, thanks to our initial attention to organisation. Isn't that just the way it always goes.

Invaded?

Cycling into work today I noticed sponges in two places. Just plain, ordinary yellow household sponges lying in the street, the kind that remind you of Sponge Bob. Is this a sign? Are we being invaded by sponges from outer space? Is it time for the big city cleanup? Is there a cleaner at work somewhere realising he has lost half his tools? So many questions, and so few answers.

Stones

When I was in Edinburgh earlier this year I found a tiny shop almost right next to the hostel, Mr Wood's Fossils. There was a collection of fossils, minerals and meteorites there that I found fascinating. Since I've been working as a guide I have become more interested in those things anyway, and this was a lovely shop. I spent a long time there, looking at all the items on display, and I actually left carrying a few stones, and a small piece of Jasper.

Jasper to me is connected to the Antarctic, to Hannah Point on the South Shetland Islands. There is a streak of Jasper near Suicide Point, always fascinating to see. You are not allowed to take any with you, and though I have found bits of Jasper on the beach, and certainly was tempted, I did behave. I did buy a couple of pieces from Mr Wood's shop though, so I can have a look at them once in a while. I also bought a piece of Bloodstone, the stone that might have attracted people to live on Rum. This piece isn't from Rum, though, I should have bought a piece there, of course. Next time.

Since my visit to the shop I've been looking at stones more often. I checked out the stones at Naturalis, and just the other day at a small shop in Amsterdam. And I've been following Mr. Woods Fossils through his weblog. There is such a great variety in colour, just in stones, again so much to know and learn. New fields.

The Company of Monks

I went to work, by tram for a change, and listened to music along the way. Not just music, but the music of monks. I recently heard a radio programme on Ambrosian Plainsong and was fascinated, so I went out to find some more. I ended up with some Gregorian chant, which I found wonderfully calming.

So this morning, in a crowded tram, crossing crowded streets, there was such peace, it was lovely but alienating. I felt detached from my surroundings. I got the feeling back I had on Iona, the sense of quiet, of great peace. As easy as that.

The Diver and His Niece

When I was staying at Harberton earlier this year the little giant visited Santiago. The girl, created by Royal de Luxe, completely took over the city for three days, and her visit was shown live on Chilean television. At Harberton that is the television you get, so my host sat and watched much of the spectacle. I joined him a few times and was quite amazeda at the event. Could it be possible to create such huge characters and still make them believable and provide them with a soul of sorts. On screen it all looked pretty impressive and convincing.



Then the party came over to Antwerp, just when I had a morning to spare there. I went out into the city centre quite early, to look for the Diver or the Little Giant, and found the Diver. He was just getting ready to move on, and walked past me into busy streets, followed by a huge crowd. I took a shortcut and managed to arrive right in front of the Diver as he passed the small boat that was on its way to pick up the Little Giant. The Diver got cleaned along the way, by his escort, and took in his surroundings. It was a moving and overwhelming sight.



I had no time to seek out the Little Giant, but I will catch up with her one day, I'm sure. I might even get to see the Sultan's Elephant.

Mr Cohen

I went to see Leonard Cohen again. Late August, a beautiful sunny evening in Ghent. After all the rain, a dry day and evening, a beautiful sunset, and a great concert out in the square. Some 8000 people probably, but it didn't feel quite so big. The setting was quite intimate. For the first part of the concert we still had daylight, so everything was clear and easy to watch. I sat quite far back, but I had brought my binoculars, and the big screens helped. Then there were the beautiful pink and orange skies, the bright moon lighting those lovely old buildings, and changing the atmosphere to the intimacy of darkness and late night. Mr cohen played for about three hours, lively, and intimate, with that golden voice. The perfect night.

The Game

So, WE got to play another match, against Cameroon. WE are through to the next round already, but still, time to party. I decided to go shopping around 8 p.m. I thought it would be nice and quiet, and it was. On the way down there were still a few people around, lots of people in orange t-shirts, hats, and other accessories. It was lovely and sunny, so it all looked pretty good. Once I got to the supermarket I had the place virtually to myself. No one pushing in the isles, no avoiding trolleys, just empty lanes and a chance to get everything quickly. And then there still was a queue at the checkout, because only one was available. But it was a tiny queue and I was happy. I think the next game is on Monday, 4 p.m....

Sunday in the Park in Amsterdam

About 20 years ago I was at the National Theatre in London to see a production of "Sunday in the Park with George". I didn't know the piece, and didn't know much about Sondheim. The production blew me away. There was Maria Friedman, just perfect for the part, the setting and design just perfect, and the piece and the music itself. Some of the lyrics are forever in my mind, they just pop up at weird moments, for strange reasons. Like some other songs, actually, but that is another story.

Then this month the first professional Dutch production is on in Amsterdam, so I had to go and see it. It's part of the Sondheim festival, celebrating the man's 80th birthday. I cycled up to the M-lab, a wonderful place on the river IJ, a lovely view over the water. Like an island in the Seine maybe? I like the theatre, no frills, just seats and a stage, all attention going to the production. Like the Donmar.

Then the production. I enjoyed it, it moved me, and I was impressed by the performances and the translation. Sondheim's lyrics are hard to sing in English, so they cannot be easy in Dutch, and translating them must be a tough job. I know the lyrics well, and there were some very nice finds in the translation. The production was a little smaller than the London one, but no less effective, and the actors managed to fill the painting, even with a smaller group of characters.

It is such a beautifully constructed piece, obviously well thought out, and it all fits like the painting. But the piece also has a heart, a story, and characters to care about. That is what makes it special. You can admire what the mind has put together, and feel the emotion too. That is what makes it so perfect.

I loved the way the lead actors played the characters, the way the songs were sung. The passion that was in the piece. We need more Sondheim.

Birding Spring

It's been a good spring for raising birds in my street. I had a family of Blue Tits living in the box attached to my window. Towards the end of their breeding season they were threatened by the Great Spotted Woodpecker that was trying to raise a family in the trees at the end of the street. He clung to my wall once in a while, trying to get into the box. I love woodpeckers, and I guess they do eat young Blue Tits, but they're not having mine if I can help it.

Then I keep hearing Short-toed Treecreepers, they have a nest somewhere round here too. And then today I got to see the evidence.



The one thing really missing this year in this street are the Swifts. I see them high up in the air, or hunting round my tree, but they don't seem to be breeding here anymore. A great loss.