Organiser

Physical Energy in Hyde Park

I like to organise. In the past I've organised a fashion show (for my grandparent's 45th wedding anniversary, I was 15), a sing-along (same anniversary) and several staff outings. But I've never organised a trip. Until this year that is. Because this year I decided it might be a great idea to organise a trip to London for my family. Parents, siblings, uncles, aunts, cousins etc...

My parents thought it was a fantastic idea and signed up almost immediately. My sister loved it as well and decided to come along, even though she would only join us in London, since she doesn't live in the Netherlands, but Northern Ireland. And then there was silence. Deafening silence. None of the other relatives wanted to come. My whole trip: ruined! Only three people coming.

Fortunately my parents have quite a social life and they started asking everyone they knew. And before long, the coach started filling up. In the end 35 people would come on the coach, with my sister joining us in London. And then I got a cancellation. One man had been unemployed, but had now found a job. However, he had to work weekends as well, so the trip was cancelled. My heart sank. As I was trying to juggle the rooms, his sister asked whether her new boyfriend could come along! Of course! Problem solved...

And then last week. Another cancellation. This time by people I know personally. He wasn't allowed to go on this trip: forbidden by his cardiologist! So, they cancelled. But this past week is a week of holidays and days off and the like in the Netherlands. Queen's Day is a national bank holiday. Liberation Day is a voluntary day off. But even so, it was hard to reach the proper people to get the cancellation through. And when I finally had that done, I had some troubles with my e-mail and the confirming e-mail never came through. In the end I used a different address and everything was okay again!

By the time you lot read this, I will be in London. Hopefully enjoying beautiful dry and sunny weather, while showing my parents and friends the sights. Enjoying a nice time in one of my favourite cities. Enjoying the fruits of my labour.

Will I ever do all that labour again? I don't know. I will have to evaluate this trip first, but I've had a wish to see Bruges (Belgium) for a long time now...

Feline Friday 11

My monsters don't always have the air of being the most intelligent of creatures. I took this photo last week of my darling Sophie (who is doing very well by the way), while she was just looking around her. With her tongue hanging out! For about ten minutes!!

Silly Sophie...

Neighbourhood

I don't live in what you would call a nice neighbourhood. Even people living in villages surrounding the town where I live 'know' where I live if I just say: behind the hospital. Their response (almost invariably) is: ooooooh, the Star area*!! Not such a good area is it!?!

And no it isn't such a good area. A few years ago, the police even started patrolling the area of its own accord! Anyway, the council, the police and the housing association have been working really hard over the last few years to make the whole area a nice area. They cleaned up paths and alleys, they got rid of debris and shrubs and they did a major overhaul on all association-owned houses. Different colour houses (mine's pink), extended back-yards, fencing and of course the insides: new bathrooms, new kitchens, new (double-glazed) windows, new outside doors. Insulation all over the place and all at a cost of nearly nothing. It's included in the rent.

However, even though their efforts to make a better neighbourhood have worked, it's only up to a point. It's still the cheapest area of town, making it a haven for low-income or no-income people. And especially with no-income comes crime. Occasionally a show is being given on the green in front of my home. Groups of men shouting and fighting. According to a neighbour, recently even shooting! So, I wasn't that surprised when I saw police ribbon out last night.

Isn't it a great neighbourhood?

*It's called the Star area, because all streets have something to do with the solar system: Saturn Street, Meteor Street, Comet Gardens etc.

P is for...

Panda

And if you were expecting a real life black and white panda: sorry!

When I moved to England in 1992, I didn't move to a big town or even a small town. I moved to a small village, with about 150 inhabitants. That in itself wasn't so bad, the bad thing was, there was no way to get out of the village. There was a school bus and I could take that, but it had the stupid habit of not driving during school holidays. There was also a postal van that had some room to take one or two passengers, but only going into town. Then there were the taxis and of course I could try and get a ride of of one of my colleagues. After about a year, I was fed up with that and decided to take driving lessons. It really was third time lucky when I finally got my license. However, having a license didn't really do me much good, since I didn't have a car to use it on. Fortunately I had a fantastic colleague who helped me buy my very first car: a Fiat Panda!

It gave me freedom to go whenever and wherever I wanted. I took trips to Salisbury and Oxford, I showed the Lake District to my parents, I got lost in London trying to take my sister back to her hostel and I moved all my possessions back to my parents' place when I decided I wanted to be in Holland and not in England. I loved that little red car.

After a few years however, the brakes weren't as good as they used to be, the heating had completely stopped working and it consisted mostly of rust. I had to get another car, but my first car still holds a special place in my heart.

For more P words, please check out ABC Wednesday

PS: for more freedom, check out yesterday's post as well, since it was Liberation Day in the Netherlands!

Freedom

Today it's Liberation Day in the Netherlands. We remember and celebrate our liberation from the German oppression during the Second World War. Years ago, when I was still in primary school, we had to do a project: ask one of your grandparents about World War II. I knew that one set of grandparents had hidden someone from the Germans (they lived on a farm), but thought that would be a bit much to ask. So, I asked my other grandmother (Oma) about her experiences. She wrote me a letter back and my dad translated it into something legible (her handwriting was awful). Everything in brackets is added by me. Here's my Oma's story:

It was the end of December in 1942 and we had nearly run out of food. During the day I worked at a notary's in Utrecht (middle of the country) and during the evenings and at the weekends I stayed at an aunt's place. She had relatives in Dalfsen (east of the country). And they still had plenty of oat, rye and potatoes. And of course they clandestinely slaughtered a pig every now and then. But how to get that food to Utrecht? After a short deliberation and the cooperation of a brother of Uncle Kees (who was in the resistance), we were able to borrow a handcart from him to get some things. There was also a male cousin who would come along. A rather large and course guy. He would come dressed as a woman. It wasn't quite without danger though. In those days all boys and men were supposed to go to Germany to be put to work.

We left Utrecht at 6am on January 5th 1943. We couldn't leave earlier due to the curfew. The weather was beautiful. Not very cold and no rain. We moved from Utrecht to De Bilt to Bilthoven, Den Dolder and Amersfoort. Arriving in Harderwijk we passed the TINO soup factory. There was a Red Cross post. We had to check in and received a lovely cup of soup. It tasted so nice. I can't quite recall where we spent the night. Nowhere was there anything for sale. We could have taken something from home, but that wouldn't have been enough for the trip.

In the mean time we had arrived at the IJsselbridge (near Zwolle). There were a lot more people on the way to get food. But to get onto the bridge with the handcart was impossible. In the mean time about eight to ten handcarts had gathered. The decision was made to try and cross the bridge together. There were also elderly women. But most were young girls. And Germans everywhere. We were halfway on the ramp to the bridge when all of a sudden a harsh voice sounded: "Halt ein mann bei" (Stop, there's a man as well). The girl in front of us turned around and said, we are being called. I snapped: "Shut your face, move it!". Because that woman was my cousin. And he had to get across. They let us cross. And that's how we crossed the river IJssel.

We still had to get to Dalfsen though. We got there at around 7 pm. We were both exhausted. It had taken us two days. We stayed there several days. But it had started to snow. There was a meter and a half (5 foot) of snow. Never before, nor after have I ever seen so much snow. But we had to get back to Utrecht. Again in convoy across the IJsselbridge. This time the Germans left us alone. We had home-made bread and bacon for the road. And we had potatoes, rye, oats and eggs. The way back took us four days. The journey was a lot harder. Because of our load and because of the snow. Afterwards we slept for like two days in a row. And we shared the food with others.

During the summer I took two nieces to Dalfsen. Because it was harder to get food in the city. We walked all the way and had one bike with massive tires (all the rubber tires had been confiscated by the Germans and it was either wooden tires or metal tires). But the three of us and luggage on one bike was hard. So, walking it was. On our way we spent a night in a haystack of a farmer. For my way back I was given another 35 kg of rye. This time the Germans did check at the IJsselbridge. But I was allowed to pass. After that I went to live at the notary's, for days and nights. And he occasionally received some food. I've never known true hunger, but I did know cold.

Langerak, 3 May 1983

The total trip was about 110 kilometers (around 70 miles) one way (taking today's motorways)! If you click on the map, you can see a line going from Utrecht via Amersfoort and Zwolle to a point just beyond Dalfsen. That would roughly have been their route.

Computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

I will not hit my computer

But I am considering chucking it out the nearest window for not doing what I want!

Excues my Frnehc

While cahtting to my goddaughetr A. the other day, her spelling was all over the place. Mine was reasonably okay, mostly due to the use fo the bakspace and occasionally the delete button. Of course, if i don't sue those button keys, myspelling is all over the place as well. The mainr ason beaing (most probably) that I looke at the screen while typing, which alwasy makes my typing worse and the fact I;'m occasionally thingking too fast for my rat slow typing.

So, just to show you, what my swiritng would be like without those ingenious keys like backspace and delete, I've decided not to use them oin this post today. I'ts hard not to do so, but I've resisted. so far.

Tomorrow I will be psoting normally again, makind tefintiely more sence than today. And I can see, I really need to do so, because I don't think half wof what I've rwriiten today is actally intellignet or intelligeble writing.

PS: This is genuinly the way I type adn If I take care I can do it more or less perfect, howerver I don't always take care!

For A.

Last night I was chatting with my 14-year old goddaughter A. She was happy I didn't use any photos of her on this blog and was wondering where I got the inspiration from to write so much.

I guess every (regular) blogger has the same problem: what to write about. Is laundry interesting enough or just plain boring? And what about photos? Which ones do you use?

I've made it a point never to use photos of people who don't (photo)blog themselves. So, if you see one of my sister, that's because she blogs (as seldom as Hailey's Comet) and occasionally even uses photos of herself.

And what do I write about? Well, mostly about what happens in my life. From the mondain (like yesterday's laundry) to the foreign trips I take. I try never to use names and prefer to stick to initials or just 'that woman' (or man)!

For me, blogging has an added bonus: apart from finding friends from all over the place, it gives me the opportunity to vent. I can tell people about my day, be it good or bad and get some compassion, some laughs or sometimes even some critical words. And it keeps me calmer than I was before blogging. I have outed it to the world, so no need to fret over it anymore!

Black and white

I always take care when doing laundry that nothing goes into the wrong load. Fortunately I don't own any red socks, but I do own a lot of black(ish) clothes. I do sort though, so imagine my surprise when today, as I was hanging my laundry outside, I found a black sock amongst all the white work shirts! Fortunately, it didn't run, otherwise, I would now have ten greyish instead of white shirts.

And then, while hanging up load two: I found €0,50. That in itself isn't so remarkable. The remarkable thing was, that all that laundry was taken from my bed. I don't have any money in my bed, so where did that come from?

Life's mysteries...

Feline Friday 10

I'll show my teeth! Growl...