A Diploma, a Birthday, and how to get poor.

Two great events in June. Merel is 17 and has her first diploma. At 15 a turbulent time for both Merel and her distraught parents began. At 17 the party animal has become a bright, mature young lady. Still with plenty of fire and spirit thank God, but close and warm to us again, as it should be. And with a great sense of humour.

This is the humorous reaction of one teenager when confronted by another teenager who also is her sister and who is armed with camera.



Merel does not work hard to pass exams. Homework was never of primary interest. But when needed, she would do enough to get through. At 15 I was top of the class in some subjects without doing any work. There were two sets of marks, one for exams and one for homework throughout the year. My report said that I was 29th out of 29 for term and homework, and first at exam time. I was asked to stand next to the teacher. I was so proud. I was asked to explain what these numbers meant. Like a fool, I said it meant that I was the best in the class. I recieved several hard whacks around the head from a huge hand. No, it did not mean that I was the best. It meant that I was the laziest sodding wretch that it has ever been my displeasure to teach. What does it mean? Say it loud or I'll have your trousers down and six of the best in front of the class (in the 1950's being beaten to a pulp with a bamboo pole was good for the building of character. It didn't do your arse much good though).

Merel had a camera for her birthday. I hope it's a better one than that which took this picture in the Wok Palace



Biology lesson at the Wok Palace.
Part 4. The entrails of the hedgehog.



This I fail to understand. 'Be all that you can be' is one thing. If someone has to work their balls off to get a diploma, while another gets it without much effort and has some fun, then I know which I would rather be. In other subjects I did work hard to make the grade because I had to. But only because it was the only way. Some people end up being good at the process of learning but cannot stop or they lose it, others get good at taking it in and hanging on to it.

Sisters in the kitchen. Rare moments of loving cooperation.


'Just the one salad, then?'

I digress. Merel did not get good marks at school because she did the minimum. On the other hand, she is responsible and well organised. Maths and logic were never a problem for Merel. At the age of 6 Merel was the only one who could work out the Ikea diagrams for the new bookshelf. Because we were worried about the final exam, Bernadet offered financial encouragement, pennies for points. I did warn Bernadet that money for points over the pass mark for each of the 8 subjects could be expensive. What if she started pulling books out and learning stuff? Well she didn't, and we were more concerned about failure. In Holland you are not allowed to leave school until you are either 18 or have a higher diploma. The exams that Merel was taking were to gain entrance to a higher college for a course that might let her out at 18. We started to get worried when we checked the Maths exam answers on the internet. Yep, got that one. And that. Yep, the next is good too. And so on. Not one wrong answer. Having just bought a car, our bank account cannot support too many correct answers. When the results were published, we were presented with two documents by our very proud daughter. An invitation to a Diploma Ceremony, and a bill for 450 euros for points earned. It was hard to explain to her that we were hoping and expecting that she would just scrape through, and could she wait for a few weeks? Seriously, it was worth every cent. Half of it pays off the loan to us for her second scooter (the first having been tinkered to destruction) a sum which we thought never to see again.

Well done Merel, and now she is also accepted into the college of her first choice, on a course of Animal Welfare and Management. It probably helped at the interview to be able to say that her pets were fish, hamsters, mice, rabbits, cats, rats and a horse. And she worked at weekends in the animal department of a huge plant and animal mega-market handling all kinds of beasts, including snakes and tarantulas.

To celebrate her birthday we had agreed to go out for a meal including boyfriend Thijs. I mean with boyfriend Thijs as a guest, not as a main course. Having arranged to borrow money from Merel for this feast, we all set off for the Wok Palace at the Tudor Hotel. For 20 euros, all you can eat in two and a half hours. For 30 eruros all you can eat and drink in that time. We unwisely went for the 20 euro deal, and drank ourselves into the poorhouse. I am usually suspicious of these places, having being spoiled by the wonderful Chinese buffets in Toronto (all you can take in for 10 dollars), and the nauseating Mr Woo's in London (everything you can keep down for a fiver). This one was very good. Soup, sushi and salad bars, many chinese dishes, superb salmon and fresh-water fish and a build-your-own wok counter which would then be fired up for you, whatever unlikely mix you chose. After two hours and 5 kilos, back home. A stormy night with a roaring tempest and much wind.

During the week I spent much time tying to erect a party tent. Good erections are a blessing at 67. All the bits were there, but there seemed to be too many poles and in odd numbers, strange for a symetrical tent. And some of the clicky bits didn't stay clicked together. Each time I managed to get the roof assembled, it all collapsed and rained aluminium poles on me when I tried to raise it up on its supports. Eventually I tied the whole structure together with string and it all went up. Ropes of light and a hi-fi and all is ready. The idea is that Young People would be in the tent, partially screened off from Old People so that they could do what Young People do at parties (mostly anatomical investigations of each other) without being seen by Old People. There would only be about 10 friends of Merel as there was another birthday party going on at the same time, and this party would, en masse, migrate and fuse at 10 p.m. The rest were family and other Old People.

Saturday the day of the party. I was sent out the day before to purchase food and drinks. Bernadet had left a list. Since the 10 or so young people would be on scooters, we would go easy on the alcohol. Two crates max. And Jan's magnificient barbecue machine would supply them all with cholesterol and unsaturated fat. The young people would not be staying after 10 oclock as they had a 'real' party to go to. I myself was appointed to run the barbecue. I hate barbecues after biting into a chicken that was burnt to toast on the outside, but cold and wet inside and started to bleed when I bit into it. And a barbecue some years ago in which a totally drunk neighbour was seen to be enjoying a leg of chicken. Raw.

Eva's dad is not impressed with my story of how I pushed a grand piano up the North Face of the Eiger while playing Schubert sonatas.



When I first saw the drinks list, it was quite short. After loading up the trolly with cola, 7-up, orange juice, Sisi, cassis, lemonade etc, I was then directed to the wines department for the six bottles of sweet white and the eight of rosé. The supermarket did not have any vodka, rum, gin jenever, absynthe, chivas, whiskey, bourbon, cointreau, cognac, malibu or champagne I went home with only half my list. I explained to my true love that I needed to find a liquor shop and she snatched the list from me. 'It looks like my writing, but I didn't write all that stuff after the soft drinks!'. Merel suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to be somewhere else, in great haste.

All went very well. I actually enjoyed the leadership over the barbecue apparatus. We did however get too much meat out of the freezer, so it looks like barbecue again on Sunday and Monday. The addition of the chip-fryer was also well recieved by the Young People. All in all, a great success, measured by the width of Merel's smile during the evening. And Merel's happiness was what it was all for.

The Young People were all well behaved and nobody got drunk. And very polite too. Politely asking if we would mind if they smoked a joint or two, and graciously accepting that we didnt mind if they didn't, upon which the Young People went for a walk to re-generate an appetite for the next round of the barbecue. And appeared a short time later, somewhat quieter than before, as if the walk had mellowed them somewhat. Those at the front end of the scooters seemed to have behaved quite responsibly, and helped those at the back onto their seats or draped them over them. And the Young People left to go to a proper party, while the Old People had a few more bevvies as the light faded. A nice time was had by all.

The party is off for a walk round the block, with ample refreshment.


Older people having a Good Time

.. and Young People wishing they knew the Old People's secret of how to have a Good Time.

Emma does a superman dive into her plate.

Yes sir, I can boogie, all night long.

Not me. Never touch the stuff myself. Why is everything so hazy?


After a few hours, barbecue remnants don't look so good. Nevertheless, some stalwarts still felt peckish enough to consume this offal.

Emma's party is next week, and everything is already in place. Only Emma has invited about 80 people and her entire Hyves swarm. Live broadcast on the Garden Cam of course.


Well done Merel. You are great.

Ruth's Birthday

I thought I had lost the photos of this splendid occasion, but they turned up. Off to Amstelveen with Emz and Mama to celebrate Ruth's birthday. After fixing up her birthday present ( a wireless network!) and the usual cake and coffee, we all went off to the park with vast quantities of food and drink. Amongst all the skyscrapers and building sites around the University is a beautiful park with little rivers and grassy hills. A lazy, sunny day lying on the grass watching ducks, frisbees and roller-skaters and mostly falling asleep in the sun and waking up now and again to enjoy the picnic. And no flies or crawly things at all.

Ruth prepares things

Which are consumed

Then off to the picnic

Now where did I put them. Has anyone seen the melons?

Nienke tells The Joke

Which almost everyone understood.

Yes, that was a good one!

I'm sorry, I didn't understand. Can you explain it?

Oh, look! The melons have turned up!

The great bicycle disaster

A Lovely Day was had by all. Thanks, Ruth.

A new Family Car

What with the demise of the Opel in February, we have been making do with the Ford Ka. A Ford Ka is a fine vehicle, unless you are fussy about minor things such as comfort, safety and reliability. Getting into one alone is bad enough. With four people it is more comfortable in the fridge. Ours has a crack in the windscreen that is now almost touching the sides, at which point the screen may fall into two pieces and be driven inwards by the wind, and just as you congratulate youself that you ducked in time to avoid decapitation by the lower portion , the top half slams down like a guillotine and finishes you off. Thus we searched for a modest conveyance.

This Maserati caught our eye, but not for long.

It belongs to the father of a horsey girl. He has lots of cars like this. You wouldn't want to be seen in the same car two days running, now would you? People who cannot afford one of these go to the Ferrari shop for something more modest. The car has an interesting affinity with the Gregorian calendar. It has a cylinder for each month of the year and one kph of top speed for every day of said year. And probably one mile per gallon for each of the four seasons.

Anyhoo, we found the Mazza a bit ostentatious. We wanted something like Karolien's MPV in New Zealand, and ended up with a Nissan Almere Tino, a soort of Renault Scenic lokk-alike. From 2000 but spotless and with only 86000 km on the clock. I am allowed to drive it sometimes. The price for hurling myself and the Opel into the canal last icy February.

One always finds photos in odd corners. One day we will sort them all out. This is Opa with his great grandson Sam, at the wedding of Kees and Ans.

Moddles

Further in the photo department, Emma is at that stage wher teeners take millions of pictures of themselves. Mostly they are just teeny-posy things, but occasionally something rather good catches the eye. I needed room in the camera SD card, but hesitated befre deleteing these 3.

The 2 indoor ones are done by holding the camera at arm's length.

Sara, your comments please!

Rabbits

With some misgivings we have agreed to accept rabbits once again into the family. Faithful readers may recall the debacle in Beverwijk in which two apparently female rabbits proceeded to over-populate the Northern Hemisphere. They are cute, though. Lotje and Dotje (pronounced Lotcha and Dotcha).

Firstly, a new home. The adapted chicken breeding unit from Tineke's Garden. Now insulated and refurnished. Eventually a staircase will lead to the open air recreation centre.

A public sports arena where they seem to be getting along well with the other inmates.

A contented bunny. But why are my trousers getting damp?

Other animals on the estate are not so welcoming. They don't attack but just ignore the new arrivals.

Its no good talking to me about rabbits. I see no rabbits.


No, none over here either.

Tony the Boy-Racer and other oddities

Dit overzicht is niet beschikbaar. Klik hier om de post te bekijken.

Amazing gyrating pussy

Bep is very old, probably around 20 (or 140 in cat years). She was about 8 or 9 when Merel was 4. We expected that when Toos died, Bep would soon follow. They were always together and Bep would surely pine away. If she noticed at all, she kept it to herself. She probably noticed that she wasn't as hungry as she used to be. She always waited until Toos had finished gronfing food like a furry mechanical shovel before nibbling the leftovers. Consequently Toos got fat and Bep got thin. Like Laurel and Hardy. Bep now eats like a horse but is not getting any fatter. Jeanette has four cats. Not only did they resent the two new ones when we moved in, but continued to hate each other. Which made life even more difficult as each now had to look in 5 directions instead of 3. The do not slink around as other cats do , but stomp menacingly towards each other, squaring up and enquiring 'looking for a claw sandwich? How about a bunch of talons, matey?'. Until one would fail to notice that he was passing under a garden chair or a low branch, and would receive a severly raked bottom from a third lurker.

Bep is trying to say something.

If only she could talk!

Mickey is the friendliest of Jeanettes's cats, but suffers from having an extremely large head.

Mimi is shy and does not like to be photographed. Probably embarrassed because she has no head at all. Her ostritch impressions are always well received.

There are 2 others but one, known as The Duke, is so large I would need a wide-angle lens, and the other is a complete hermit, coming in at night

to feed. Few have seen her. Toos was no good at defending territory, always remembering pressing engagements elsewhere if confrontation threatened. Since Toos died, Bep became more territorial. Even the Duke stops at a respectful distance from our door. Despite her old-ladiness she is as ferocious as a pitbull to other cats.

However, Bep has been behaving strangely lately. She cries at the door, gets let out, blinks and looks confused and cries to be let in again. She then wonders why she is not still outside and cries to go out. We should install revolving doors. She also loses her way, walks into walls and is generally not herself. We took her to the vet. He said she is suffering from 'Alzheimers for cats' and that we should leave the light on at night because it would be distressing for her to wake up and not quickly be able to orientate herself. I always thought that cats were nocturnal and thus did not sleep at night. Furthermore, they have excellent night-vision, better than John 'Cats-Eyes' Cunningam, the famous world war 2 night-fighter ace. I should have been a vet. I could make vast amounts of cash telling people thier cat had Trollope's Syndrome and needed lots of expensive pills. Further manifesations of Bep's deterioration are the incredible gyrating fits and the almost daily regurgitation of more material than she has eaten.

The fits are alarming. She curls up into a ball and starts to shake. As the shaking increases, she starts to revolve on her axis like a demented asteroid, while growling in vibrato, because her mouth is moving towards and away from the listener as she spins. It is very frightening to watch and we thought she was dying. After a bit she stopped and went on with her life as if nothing had happened, rubbing up against table legs and purring at flower-pots. Now we just ignore her. Until she vomits. It starts with a bobbing of the head, a low growning and shuddering followed by a mighty heave and a gollop of steaming stew is ejected, sometimes quite hairy. It always happens on things that one has just cleaned. The worst is the leather settee if she is sitting on the back of the seat. It all glides down the smoothly waxed surface until it hits the crack between the back and the seat. The larger lumps remain while the smaller ones and all the liquids slide into the chasm. It's a horror to clean as the leather runs out and the corduroy begins halfway into the ravine.

One should never panic when a cat is vomitting. At first I grabbed her and rushed to the door and it went all over my trousers. The next occasion saw me hold her at arms length, but making a tight turn around the coffee table I centrifuged it all over the walls and curtains. Another time I grabbed her and missed, and she dived under the dining table, heaving up as she went. I followed on all fours and tried another grab. The shiny laminate floor under a heavy table is not the best surface upon which to follow a cat being sick. The cat must pass over what it has just ejected, and when its feet reach the sludge, there is loss of traction. The little legs go faster and faster and the claws tick merrily searching for grip. The pursuer recieves a shower of warm, wet particles as the legs revolve like vomit-wheels. I tried to escape vertically, but forgot that I was under the table and fell back stunned by the blow to the back op my head into the morass as I watched Bep disappear leaving little vomitty footprints.

This looks a good place for heave-up!

Best get some Ajax and a bucket and wait for her to finish. At least it's all in one place. God help us if she ever starts to vomit just before a Gyrating Pussy Attack. The room pebble-dashed in Felix, lumps of nourishing sardine and cod in a wholesome gelatinous jelly. One of the worst sights in the world is a hair-ball that has been there for a few weeks, unnoticed.

Why am I sitting here tapping out this crap! Love you all.

PS: Stef - you noticed the ads! The great advertising stunt is not going well. Google Ad-Sense promised that adverts would be tailored to the tone of the blog. The first ad was for stuff to clean drains and the second for steel balls that are used to knock dried up concrete lumps off the inside of cement mixers. I was to be informed when 70 euros had accumulated. Nothing having happened for 3 days, I looked at my account. Apparently you only get paid if people actually click on the ad and buy some steel balls. The rate is 0.00000001%, less expenses and VAT.

Reflections

Mostly what is written here is not meant to be taken seriously. It is just a journal of the irrelevancies of our lives tempered with humour for a close but widespread family amongst whom humour is a gift shared. In all the blogs, and web-groups over the years we have communicated by laughing at ourselves. It would seem to an outsider, that we are a funny family that this lightness is how we all are. We know that it is not always so. Some of us have known deep tragedy. The heavy things we do in private and through other channels. For myself, life has been many more ups than downs, an easy passage without much effort on my part. Now is a time to think on our good fortune and that it cannot be taken for granted. We can influence our own happiness by how we live but much is out of our hands. We do not always get what we deserve, good or bad. It is the roll of the dice. I am not religious. I wish I were, then I could pray. I do believe in 'something out there' and the real power of good and evil. I can pray that whatever is 'out there' will help Irene and Lisa. Life is not always fair.

Service resumes

Hello all.

A kiss from Emma
Sorry to have been away so long, should anyone have noticed in New Zealand, England or Canada. Sorry to Saj and Stef who were promised contact on Facebook but had to be content only with news of my visits to the toilet. I am personally not a great fan of Facebook as it is a bit like Hyves, which has taken the lives of our daughters. Lots of things happened this month, the most important of which were the loss of function in my computer and my wife. Poor Bernie has a hernia and it is very painful. We have all been ill at the beginning of the month with, probably, food-poisoning. Bernadette has an aging Auntie, single and for centuries a real party animal. Unexpected callers may be surprised to see gentlemen in dressing gowns lurking around corners trying to fade into the background. As a present, this jolly aunt was given a calendar showing on which days she would be picked up and taken to one or other young relative for a splendid lunch or trip to the theatre etc. On this occasion someone was ill and we all got it, including the jolly auntie. Dreadful it was. When using the bucket, make sure you are firmly positioned on a toilet. This was both-end stuff with a vengeance. I was under the impression that Bernadette’s back problems started with an unfortunate lurch towards the bucket in a mighty heave-ho, but apparently it started a few days before. Still, it would have made a nice story. Woman paralyzed by warm prawn sandwich. We have moved her bed downstairs by the garden doors. These said doors are not quite visible in our new webcam, but should she go outside, you may see her shuffling around and give her a virtual wave. With luck you may even see her fall over, and since the camera has sound, you can catch every nuance of excruciation. I shall post a link to the camera, appropriately under the 'links' category. We are fortunate to have the camera, as it is the third on the same guarantee. The first went into free-fall after some hasty mounting and suffered concussion but no visible damage. Just stopped working it did. Can I have another? The second, you may recall, became for a vey short time, a fish-pond cam. There is one thing about cameras in water that you should be aware of. They do not float as such, but tend to plummet towards the depths taking on water-ballast as they go. I let it dry out for a few months, and, noting that only one week was left on the guarantee, I tried again. Another one sir? Yes, I'm afraid. This one has been very constant - until an hour ago. This one I have mounted in the lamp above the stable door out of the rain. I hope it is not pointing at the sun at sun-up. It is great to have the computer back again, although under Vista. Not everything is working as it should, because Vista does not recognize the sound card. "Windows cannot open this file because there is no audio device. Windows is looking for a solution to the problem. Yawn. Little green slug going round and round and round. Yawn. Ah! Windows has found a solution to this problem. Press here to access the solution. Eager pressing. Windows suggests that you purchase a new sound-card. Click here for a list of Microsoft-approved hardware for which Microsoft will not be collecting any excessive kick-backs, probably. Same with the USB docking-box and a few other bits and pieces. I am at work at the moment. It is exam week, and the Open Learning Centre is like a morgue. Herman the Skeleton feels quite at home, he says. I, nevertheless, have a function as a mine of information. Why, not ten minutes ago, a woman women stuck her head through the door to ask where the toilet could be. It could be anywhere by now but I assured her that it was most unlikely to have moved and that she should proceed to corridor B. Suppose there had been another bout of the jolly aunties double-ended-belly-spasms in the air. I may well have averted a major trauma for the cleaners. I'm off to have some coffee. I shall intersperse this text with a few photos of Heiloo for the home-sick, and thank once again that fantastic family in New-Zealand for the trip of a life-time. Looking back at the photos last night made me realize how wonderful t was. See you after the coffee!

Sam

Gisteren op kraamvisite geweest bij Frans en Susanne.
Wat een lief en mooi knulletje.