Globetrotters

And we're off to Berlin in the morning.

Our London honeymoon was great. Nice hotel, though a bit too far outside the city center (and away from the embankment...) than we'd hoped. John Barrowman in a dress was cheesy, so yes... pretty much what we thought it would be. Got lost quite a few times (it's only my fourth time in London...) and Bus Service Security thought we were terrorists while we were geocaching. Oops.
Photos will be minimal though since some absolute disgusting arsehole(s) stole our backpack in Brussels South trainstation. It was all too ridiculous for words: one guy distracts me while the other takes off with our stuff, and I'm still reeling from it. I actually ran after him, the bastard. Still, it could have been so much worse. They got our camera, with our photos, some twenty pounds, some paperwork, a nice card from Madscot... but that's pretty much it (ok, a new book, reloadable batteries, an umbrella and Melisssa's favourite cap as well..). But no-one got hurt (sadly not even them) and we're both still here.
Still... that doesn't mean I don't wish them the most horrible diseases on their private parts. Horrible and painful, please.

Needless to say The Girlfriend (I'm sorry, "The Wife") bought herself a new camera for Berlin.

So here's hoping we come back in one piece, WITH lots of photos and WITH our camera still in our new backpack!

See you in a week.

|

Oh... And we're leaving on our honeymoon to London on Friday morning.

Yay again! (it'll hopefully help me forget about the crap stuff at work)

|

Just Married!

Getting married is a blast, seriously! I'd say we should do it more often, but that kinda defies the purpose.

Some highlights:
- saying "I do" in front of so many friends and relatives. So many more than we expected would make it.
- Smooching the Girlfriend The Wife as wife and wife for the first time
- (and the second time)
- (and the third... yeah, you get the picture)
- Scotsmen coming over
- A faaaaabulous party with friends and colleagues, with minimal embarrassment.
- People who put so much time and effort in their presents (the poor plush snake filled with coins, the geocaches), getting a lovely lovely heartfelt letter from my witness, the surprise some friends had in store for us (Tom Lanoye! Someone pretending to be Neil Tennant and saying insulting things about the Pet Shop Boys!)
- The scrapbook made by our friends
- Our opening dance.... and fighting the tears as we danced it.
- Bursting into tears the day after when we read all the cards and messages we'd got. And a shocking discovery in our guestbook!
Seriously, everyone, thank you so much.

Yay! Getting married is cool!

Some lows:
- running around organising stuff like a headless chicken
- the drunk 40-something cousins with lewd comments

Aaaah who cares. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. But only with the same woman though.

On to new adventures!

|

Iraq

The situations of gays in Iraq.

Very very disturbing content, don't read it if you think you might not be up to it.
I'd urge all those idiots who say "why must you go on about it time and time again, everyone accepts it now, stop flaunting it" to read this.

|

Nobel

Let's hope Obama doesn't start bombing nation after nation during his years as president, or the Nobel Prize Committee will be quite embarrassed. "Oops, sorry about that, world".

And still no mention of me, would you believe it?
Tsk.

Have some Rufus

|

Oma

I was never their favourite grandchild. I've known that from a very early age. I don't think they quite understood me, and I didn't quite understand them all that much either. I was good at school, but that was a point against me in their eyes. I was crap with my hands, I was quiet and introspective, and yeah... she didn't like my mother much. I was never "raised" there, the way my cousins were. I spent more time with my dad's and mum's aunts.
But I spent many Wednesday afternoons there, with my youngest cousins. First steak and chips. Then play until our parents got home from work. There was lego, and a little hammer-and-nails carpenters set, puzzles. They had a sandbox in the garden and Stoffel, the turtle, lounging underneath an old tree.

My grandad died five or six years ago. He'd suffered from Alzheimer's for some 15 years, I don't have many memories of him healthy. I mostly remember him smoking, sitting on his sofa, watching TV. Or staring at the TV anyway.
Stoffel, the turtle, died a few years ago, he'd ended up on his back and no-one saw until it was too late.

And now my gran is gone as well.
The gran why my mother called a "very dominant bossy woman" (and she was). Who cooked and cooked, and didn't quite get that I didn't like a lot of her cooking. Who was raised in a children's home, because her parents had too many children and couldn't provide for all of them. I think that was why anyway. Rumours have it the Home was pretty horrible (nuns in the 1920s and 1930s...), but she never talked about that to us. Probably not even to her children. The gran who became a midwife, because the nuns saw she was smart and she was allowed to study longer than most girls her age. The only healthy grandparent I had left from the age of about 12. The one I thought would outlive us all. The very same gran who seemed to form an understanding with me as I got older, as I found my way in the world (perhaps she'd been worried I never would) and who adored The Girlfriend, at times probably more than she adored me. That gran died yesterday. She'd become a shadow of herself in recent weeks and I suppose we should be thankful it happened rather quickly.
She was 91 after all.
A lot to be thankful for.

Up until two weeks ago I was sure she'd be at my wedding. We gave her the invite and she told us we "were two happy souls". She showed it off to my dad. I was sure I'd be able to tell her, some time, that she was going to be a great-grandmother again. I was pretty sure I'd be able to hand her our baby for that all important photo opportunity.
I guess not.
Sleep tight, Gran. I hope you're at peace.

|

Lucy

Ik heb een nieuwe grote liefde.
In de auto dan toch.
Ze heet Lucy en ze hangt af en toe aan de ruit van mijn chickmobile. Als ik op huisbezoek moet, of als de schattie en ik de nerd afgeven geocachen, leidt ze ons zonder problemen waar we moeten zijn. Ze berekent alternatieven, vermijdt obstakels en... ze wordt nooit boos op ons. Ook niet als we haar negeren. Dat is verfrissend, na ontelbare kaartlezer/autorijder ruzies in het Piglina huishouden.
Wanneer ik vroeger op huisbezoek ging, haalde ik eerst de wegbeschrijving van routenet. Als ik geluk had, wist routenet waar de straat ergens lag, maar daar kon je niet vanuit gaan. Daarom kopieerde ik ook altijd een blaadje van de Grote Stratenatlas op het werk en markeerde mijn route naar de bestemming in fluo. Soms met pijltjes. En met nota's. Tot slot had ik ook mijn kleine stratenatlas mee en vertrok ik een kwartier te vroeg.
Meestal was ik te laat op mijn huisbezoek.
Zweterig ook, van mij op te jagen en verkeerd te rijden.
Op van de zenuwen en bijzonder lastig.
Maar altijd empathisch! Ah ja, dat is mijn werk. "En hoe voelt dat dan voor jou, zo'n begeleider hebben die een kwartier te laat is, bloednerveus en gejaagd?"

Maar neen, geen GPS, want ik moest en zou de weg weten te vinden en kaartlezen was een intellectuele uitdaging en zo'n machientje kon je toch niet vertrouwen, en ze leiden je altijd blindelings in een meer of een eenrichtingsstraat en hoe dom kan je zijn en ge zijt gij zekers nie wel, zo'n GPS...

De Schattie schafte dan maar Lucy aan.

En nu plug ik Lucy in, ze zegt me waar ik moet rijden en ik vertrouw haar blind. Blind, people. Blind!
Mja, misschien niet zo slim.
Maar ze is zo lief, meneer.

|

De vetkuif

Kijk, dan mag hij al eens zijn broek afgestoken hebben for absolutely no reason. En dan nog in het gezichtsveld van de Schattie, waardoor ze nog meer lesbisch werd dan toen al het geval was. En ja, af en toe schrijft hij wel over een "prachttiet" en "prachtbenen" en meer van dat soort foute dingen. Ik wil zelfs toegeven dat zijn accent aan de irritante kant is en zijn ego een halve meter groter dan hijzelf.

Maar af en toe slaat hij toch de nagel op de kop, die meneer Lanoye:

"Literatuur legt niets vast, het vernietigt wat er was. Personen worden personages. Hoe levensecht alle scènes ook zijn, de waarheid pak je nooit. Literatuur blijft een illusie. Een onmisbare illusie, maar een illusie. De vergankelijkheid blijft."

Lanoye over zijn nieuwe boek.
En ja, ik kijk er al naar uit.

|