Paradoxically speaking

The Netherlands is a country of the most amazing paradoxes and contradictions. Almost every week, I learn something that leaves me shaking my head foolishly in astonishment.

Consider this: Hollanders pride themselves on their tolerance and liberal approach to life, but these are the very qualities that allow pockets of the country to be so strictly religious that even the most rigid conventions are observed in entire villages, not just households.

As an example, I had a student once who came from a village in Zeeland where she was treated as an outcast because she wore jeans and long pants and did her gardening on Sundays. Absolutely true! When I commented on how fantastic such a situation was in so progressive a country, I was told that it is because the Dutch are so tolerant that this intolerance can exist. Get it? I wish I did!

On a similar theme, the country can still be divided along loose religious lines, i.e the north is protestant and the south catholic. Although this is fairly diluted these days, and like most other western countries, religion is not that big an issue, you can nevertheless still see the divide clearly in the culture. The south is home of the carnival and grand festivities. Wine and good spirits flow with typical catholic extravagence. In the north, though, there is little in the way of this type of hair loosening event, and in fact it is still seen as rather 'low' behaviour.

Add to this that some of the major broadcasting networks are run by the dominant religious groups, and you start to wonder how it is that so secular a country whose government is a mystery of concensus and coalition can also be home to such noticeable spiritual boundaries.

And there's another oddity I learnt a week or so ago from Invader Stu: Amsterdam, city of the coffee shops, all night parties, red light district, the gay games and basically an 'anything goes society ' closes its liquor sales at 3 a.m on a weekend night and absolutely nowhere can you buy anything but alcohol free beer after this time.

The list continues: Illegal acts such as smoking weed are not prosecuted or even fined, but walking your dog without a lead is; the police all carry guns, unlike their counterparts in the UK, but as a force, they are considered by most people to be little more effective than rather feeble social workers; voluntary euthanasia and gay marriage were first legalised in the Netherlands, but fail to turn up at a family birthday party and you are in trouble for the rest of the year!

I find it a source of constant amazement and fascination - if only because it is always so unanticipated. "We are tolerant", said a Dutch friend "As long as you don't expect us to be, that's all." And that's a paradox in itself, isn't it?

The last ones standing - or rather lying

The pictures above and below are of Koos's and my barge just before we moved out of the Oude Haven. We were the last to leave, and it felt very strange to be so alone there. Itwas a moment worth recording too, as it is very unlikely we will ever be in such a position again. The harbour authorities have now embarked on the big reconstruction, so I'll give an update as soon as there's something to see.



And....this is where we are now....



It's a great spot, in fact, and we rather like it here....hmmmm. We might even be reluctant to leave...who knows?

AND SHE’S ONLY JUST FIFTY…..A tribute to the best friend a girl could have. Updated Saturday 20th

I have known Moira for sixteen years. This weekend, she is celebrating her fiftieth birthday in Johannesburg. Okay, she’s not my childhood friend and we were never even fellow students, but we’ve had as much laughter and as many tears together as it is possible for two friends to have. I have been remembering some of those occasions.

When we met back in the bad old days of good old CAMAF, the health insurance company where we both worked. Moira was the supervisor of the Financial department, while I was in Customer Services. I used to pass her office on the way to my desk every day, and at first I thought she was one of ‘them’ – you know, ‘them the Management’. That meant, of course, that she didn’t talk to lowly and insignificant minions like me, and I thought she was oh so terribly posh! In due course, I would step into her office to ask about problems with members, and I slowly discovered that that she was neither lofty or a snob as I had at first thought. Mind you, she had thought that I was rather intimidating much to my horror, so we were both happy to discover we were both mistaken. And it was good.

Our friendship went from strength to strength, and before long, we were sharing the usual confidences about the usual female things, and of course about our bosses, which was always great for forging ever closer ties. Moi will well remember our weekly Squash sessions when we pretended the balls were various members of CAMAF’s management, or indeed anyone we had the miffs with that week.

My first real memory of getting into the thick of things with Moi was at one Christmas party. I seem to recall we went to an Italian restaurant, not that far from the office. It was a good lunch. The wine was even better. In fact it was so good that when the time came to go, we were both too sloshed to walk. But as Moi was feeling seriously sick, it was quite clear that I should be the one to drive. Naturally. Nowadays, it seems shameful to laugh at being so potted; standards and opinions have changed for the better, but every time I think of that day I start chuckling. There we were in Moi’s little ‘shitty’ brown Escort, driving with exaggerated care back up the road. She was keeping an eye on the distance that I was keeping from the kerb; meanwhile I clutched the wheel feverishly and tried to focus on what was up ahead. A difficult task when you can see two of everything. Then suddenly, she screamed at me to stop, which of course, I did, thinking something dire had happened. Moi flung the door open and leaning out, deposited her wonderful lunch copiously in the gutter. That was definitely a sobering experience, I don’t remember too much more about the ride home, but we managed to get there as we both lived to tell the tale over many another Christmas party.

Another special occasion I love to remember came much later, in fact in 2000 after we had both left CAMAF. It was on that memorable pony trekking trip to Lesotho. Moi, Les and I had what was one of the best weekends of my life, made so partly by Moi’s unintentional, but hilarious antics. Now most of us know Moi as the lady. When we used to go shopping together, Moi would go and look at the lovely, soft and elegant fashions, while I went and pored over power tools. It goes without saying then that while Les and I were equipped to deal with the rough and ready conditions of an overnight stay on a Lesotho kraal, Moi wasn’t.

The great Trek

After a six hour ride and a five kilometre hike to a waterfall, we were all exhausted. Neither Moi nor I had ridden ponies in years and Les, bless him, had never been on horseback before. I still cry with laughter when I recall the blue air surrounding Les’s expletives as the horses picked their way down the sheer sides of a particularly rocky gorge, but he was so game. He just kept going. Anyway, we collapsed into a rondavel on our arrival like a bunch of zombies.

Moi and I looking wasted in the Rondavel..yes that is me with the dark hair...;-)

Then the fun began. The village residents had kindly supplied us with the basics. There were mattresses to sleep on, a gas ring to cook on and a single bucket of water for all our needs. Let me stress that. ALL our needs. There was also the famous ‘long drop’ for the toilet, amounting to a shed surrounding a deep hole in the ground with a toilet seat sitting over it.

Now remember Moi is a lady. Moi does not use a long drop to do her deeds. Moi refuses to even have a ladylike pee in a long drop. Coaxing and persuading her does no good at all. She is simply not going to do it. A few hours and a cup of tea later, however, and she was facing a problem. Where exactly was she going to do her deed. Another couple of hours and a good level of desperation further on and she finally conceded that she would have to try. Somewhere, and sadly I don’t have it, there is a photo of Moi hovering over the long drop with an expression of utter disdain on her face. We captured the moment as proof that in fact Moi is more courageous than any of us. She did it. She used that long drop against a whole heap of her better judgments.

Going back to the rondavel, though, we managed to cook, make hot drinks and wash dishes with sparing use of our bucket of water, carefully leaving about half of it for teeth cleaning, face washing and most importantly, coffee and tea in the morning. Later on, just before turning in, Les and I were dutifully cleaning our teeth with mugs filled from the bucket, when suddenly I heard Les positively shriek. “MOIRA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Turning round I saw Moi frozen in mid action. She had a bar of soap in her hands. But it was too late. She’d already done it. She’d soapily washed her face in our precious bucket of water. The one that was for ALL our needs. The tea and coffee next morning had an extremely interesting flavour.
What a trip, what a friend!

Happy Birthday, my friend. I should have been with you at your party, but as you now know, the forces were against me, and we were cruelly prevented from catching that plane. May you have another fifty wonderful years, Moi and I promise...we will see each other soon xxx.

James Casey - Unsung songster

Over the last few days I've been downloading and listening to some beautiful songs. They are all written, performed and recorded by James our-very-own Casey. It's hard to categorise them. I guess they would fall into the same bracket as Rachel's music but then labels/lables ;-) are always difficult, so what do you call it? I don't know, but it's gentle, witty and melodic...

I'm impressed by his lyrics, his harmonies and melodies. I am also impressed by his musical skill and performing ability. One song that really stands out for me is "Blow Wind Blow".

James's music is all available on IAC and whether you just like some, one or all of his songs, they are worth listening to. In my view, James has a talent worth supporting. I'm afraid he's going to be terribly embarrassed by this post, but I can't help that. James's blog doesn't allow for comments, so I have to say it here if anyone else is going to see it...sorry James!

One of the great things about blogging is that we can say what we like (within reason) and support who we like. There are so many talented people within this blogging circle, I would love to see them all succeed in gaining some recognition for their work, so I guess what I'm trying to say is that when I find it, I want to say something about it.....so watch this space!

You can find the song Blow Wind Blow here

Gypsy: This is for YOU

You've come to mean so much to all of us,
so hoping you enjoy today and every other
day with us on blogland.

A Father's Day Tribute to my Pa

Inspired by Anne Marie's heartwarming post about her father, I am shamelessly copying her for my own tribute to my beloved Pa, who as I write, lies infirm and totally disabled by all the strokes he has had in a north London nursing home. I have photos of him as he is now, but they are too sad and reflect nothing of the kind, intelligent and gentle soul that he used to be - a caring Daddy to my sister and me, and a wonderful grandfather to my daughters. He stimulated any artistic inclinations any of us had, and encouraged us to be forever curious about our world. From him, I know I learnt what is is to keep a sense of wonder about nature and its ways.  

 These pictures were taken in London at the end of the 80's when I escaped a crumbling marriage to spend some time back in England. I feel you can see the kindness beaming from his face, and the picture below in Trafalgar Square is typical of the attention he paid my little daughters. When we were young, he was very busy with his work and so didn't have this kind of 'quality' time to spend with us, but I do remember it was my Pa who always made sure we had our 'brolleys' when it was raining and buttoned our coats up before we went to school....bless him..

 

25 Years and still Rocking!

This last weekend I was in the UK with my sister and her husband (a.k.a Toots and Chris) to help them celebrate their Silver Wedding anniversary. It was a terrific party because my brother-in-law plays drums for a rock and roll band of which he at fifty something is the youngest member! They put on a really great show and we danced until the blisters on our feet popped and were just too tired to rock any more. This pic is of my sister (left) with Laurance (centre), a French friend who came all the way from southern Champagne to be there and Rozzy (right)one of my sister's twin daughters.

In this photo, you can just see Chris behind his drum kit. I saw them play last year, and cannot believe the improvement this time round, especially with big bro-in-law who has gained so much confidence. We were really impressed...watch out Zak Starkey!

My sister and her babies, Sophy and Rozzy, the two sweetest girls (apart from mine and Dale's and Gypsy's) in the universe! There is an older sister, Sarah, who was also there, and is also lovely, but somehow she never came in shot.



Finally, it had to be done! The Family Photo! But, sadly, I still didn't get Sarah or Sophy, who also vanished at that point. Here, you can see from right to left: Brothers Chris and Nick, then sister Toots, Rozzy, Diana wife of Chris, Liz wife of Nick and lastly, the beautiful Eleanor, youngest of Nick's three daughters. I'm so sorry poor Diana is pulling such a face here and I didn't notice it until after the party when they had all gone and couldn't do a re-take..She was so much fun on the dance floor. Hard to believe she's just retired!


It was great to be with my brothers again, because I hardly ever see them - the last time was four years ago at Chris's son's wedding. We lead very different lives, and never really know what each other is doing, but it was good to spend those few hours remembering that we really are a family, and I can just be thankful for occasions like these that give us the reason and motivation we need to keep that bond alive.

Thank you Toots and Chris for a memorable evening. I wouldn't have missed it for the world, and may you have another 25 wonderful years together.

Tot ziens to my TENACITE

This weekend was tough for two reasons. The first, and most obvious is that it was very hard work hauling furniture and belongings out of my (now former) barge in Belgium. I have finally managed to sell it to a young Belgian man who has become quite a friend in the last few weeks, so I can say with honesty and from my heart that I wish him years of pleasure and happiness on the Ténacité. It is a friendly, homely boat and I'm sure it will embrace him kindly.
The other tough part was saying goodbye to my barge. This picture was taken the weekend I first saw it, and I fell in love with it despite the decrepitude. It's been a lot of work to scrape and paint the hull, strip and sand the wheelhouse and build in a bathroom, bedroom and kitchen, but the result was a boat that many say is beautiful, even though I know it isn't really. The Ténacité has given us three years of wonderful holidays and weekends; endless opportunities to explore the Belgian countyside and towns; countless days of enjoying just being elsewhere on a boat that you can also call home. I'll miss it both sadly and badly, but it was time to go.