Fair

As every year round this time there is a big fair on the "Grote markt" - the main square of Haarlem. I don't really like fairs. They are noisy and for some reason there is always a lot of aggression among the people that like to hang out at them.
But... from a pleasant distance this fair looks great. Especially at night. Check out http://128.121.162.36/webcam.htm

My butt hurts

Laying floors, carrying cupboards, cleaning: it’s all a bit different then what I do for a living. I can’t say I didn’t have fun these last two days. And I’m actually proud of the laminate floor that I installed in L.’s bedroom. But I must confess: MY BUTT HURTS.
Muscular ache that is. You don’t get that too much as a writer. Maybe I should do this more often – working round the house.
Although really, carrying heavy furniture is not for me. I love L., but she can’t expect me to climb down a bendy staircase with a sofa in one hand and refrigerator in the other. I’m just not build for that.
I know there are guys like that. There were two of them wednesdaynight and, yes, they did carry all L.’s heavy stuff down the stairs.
But I installed the laminate floor! And my butt aches!

Goodbye

june pointer, '55 - '06

A lot about the dying this week
First, this Sunday, it was novelist Gerard Reve who died - although that was no real surprise. He was old and very ill. In fact there was really nothing to be sad about. It was his time. Reve had never feared his death. A good part of his live – as from his fourty’s - he had actually lived towards that final day. He wrote about that glorious day, imagening how his beloved God – Reve was gay AND very religious – would finally call on him. Still, even Reve couldn’t have dreamt that his funeral would be on Easter Saturday. He will be pleased with that. So, no reason for any sadness. We’ve still got the books, right?

Then Tuesday, that was the day to burry J.O.’s mom. I’ve never met her, so guess I wasn’t there for her nor for me, but for J.O. Who did very okay, by the way. His girlfriend was with him as were his two little children. The other day J.O. had told me how his little son (he is about 6) reacted on his grandmothers death: ,,We best spend a lot of time together with grandpa, daddy. So he won’t be so alone.’’
It was the first time I saw J.O.’s father. He was standing in front of his wife’s grave, while the minister was talking about whatever ministers are talking about at such occasions. I could only see the back of his head and a glimpse of the red rose he held in his hand. In front of him was this white coffin - the coffin that contained the lifeless body of the woman that he had shared most of his life with and whom he, without any doubt, had loved so very much. What could this man possibly be thinking at this very moment, I asked myself. I didn't find an answer. He looked fragile and very strong at the same time.
After the ceremony everybody left to have a drink together in some restaurant that I had never been. Since I was the only one who had come by bike, I had to find the way to it on my own. I never found the place. Drove around for an hour and then gave up. I hope John was okay. I hope he was with his father and with his little son.

Wednesday. The nine o’clock news told me June Pointer had died. “What?!! O My God!” No, it wasn’t because I was such a big fan of the Pointer Sisters or what. Okay, I was in my so called ‘Wonderyears’ when they had their biggest hits, so there are memories enough, but that was not the reason for my reaction on June’s death. It was the thought of my friend Gg in New York. She had known June, and much more than that. I knew how special June was to her. Poor Gg.
I’m glad I got her on the phone later that evening, to tell her that there was someone thinking of her. Death by itself is lonely enough, isn’t it?

Painting the chairs

Finally I got the see L.’s new home. She (and me, in a way...) is going to move to another part of the building. Did I tell you she’s living in a former psychiatric hospital?(!) The place has got huge rooms. Her current bedroom for example is only a few inches smaller than my whole appartment, which has three rooms and a bathroom and is really not something to pity me for.
Anyway, she’s moving from the loft to the second floor. Which has: an enormous kitchen (she didn’t have that upstairs), an enormous livingroom with large windows, a bathroom of her own (didn’t have that), a large bedroom (in which she can finally install her kingsize waterbed!!!), a spare bedroom, and a hallway. In one word: Great!
The place badly needs a clean-up though. And we need to paint.
Saturdaynight, after L. finished working, at about 4:30 in the morning, we headed to her place and I got a tour. Our plan was to do some cleaning and painting the next morning. But, eh, we never got to that. All excited about the new place we opened a bottle of wine and drank it, opened a botlle of port and drank it, and talked and talked and got all cuddly until we finally fell asleep at... 12.30 PM.
I don’t know what time we got up again. I do know that when we did, we both suffered from, well, a bit of a headache. So much for Sunday.
Monday though was working day. I installed new locks on the door, we cleaned a bit and we painted the new kitchen chairs! This place has a real good feel.
Unfortunately I had to leave for home that night because of work next day. I got back by bus. Before going home I stepped by at my Favourite Bar where I found Peter who was just finishing celebrating his birthday. He wasn’t too sober anymore. We drank a couple of last ones and then I went for my bed.