K.P. Webster's Blog, page 8

Jason Bourne :: 60% Fun, 100% Nonsense

So this was my first experience at a Dutch cinema, and whilst I appreciate that this experience – Thursday night, mainstream cinema, blockbuster film – will be different to most of my cinema experiences – afternoon showings, non-action films – it was a bit of an eye-opener.

The first thing I noticed as I found my place in the packed auditorium was that people are allowed to drink alcohol in Dutch cinemas. (Or at least, in the one I was one.) This has – according to my experience last night – three distinct consequences:

* Increased noise. I thought at first the popping was champagne bottles and I wondered if maybe I’d accidentally wandered into the Bullingdon Club’s annual cinema outing, but then I realised it was merely the popping of bottled Grolsch. And there was quite a lot of it. At one point in a lull in the film action, three loud comedy pops went off in very quick succession, within half a second, resulting in a ripple of appreciative laughter from the mostly unperturbed audience. Then there’s the noise of bottle-on-glass clinkage, booze being poured or glugged and glasses and bottles being sporadically kicked over.

* Increased toilet activity, particularly towards the end of the film, during the film’s most climactic, edge-of-seat, please-don’t-walk-in-front-of-me-now-you-inconsiderate-fuck scenes.

* Increased drunkenness throughout. I happened to sit down next to one particularly vocal drunken man who had no qualms about talking to his partner pretty loudly. I waited before I said anything. There was a chance, I thought, that maybe this was just the Dutch way – maybe it’s perfectly OK to talk in Dutch cinemas, maybe if I shushed him, the whole audience would turn on me in a fury, demanding to know who the hell I think I am. ‘How dare you infringe upon this man’s right to chat through a film?’ So I waited till someone else shushed him. Then when he carried on blathering, I laid my hand on his shoulder and whispered softly but with a hiss, ‘YOU WILL DIE!”

No, I didn’t really. I didn’t need to. He was immediately very apologetic and kept his chitchat to a minimum afterwards. Which was still quite irritating but I was in a forgiving mood and let’s face it, I was only there to watch a cartoon.

So to the film. Jason Bourne. Rambo in a Tommy Hilfiger jacket. 

I was persuaded to see the other Bourne films five years or so ago and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed them. In my memory they seem – as well as genuinely exciting – quite serious studies of a tortured man and various corrupt government bodies. But either my memory is deceiving me, or the new one is a lot less serious.

I found pretty much the whole film very, very silly indeed. I just kept thinking all the way through, ‘But how…?’ and ‘But why….?’ and then I had to keep reminding myself again and again, ‘Because it’s a cartoon. It’s not a serious film. It’s not responsible story-telling.’

So it was fairly enjoyable in the way that popcorn can be fairly enjoyable as long as you’re getting your nutrition from elsewhere. Mostly fun, but also sometimes really quite annoying.

Like the combat scenes, for example, and many of the action scenes in general. For me, they become very tedious when the cutting is so fast that you can’t really see anything. I know I probably sound like a very old man here and this may be the cinematic equivalent of saying ‘You can’t even understand what they’re singing these days’, but so be it. I stand by it.

There are also far too many of those shots where it feels like the camera has been placed in a transparent plastic bag and then spun around really quickly. These will just be cut into the middle of a fight or riot scene to add to the feelings of chaos.

Oh, and also:

* lots of the dialogue was so utterly ridiculous as to be positively comic

* the goodness and badness of the goodies and baddies was pantomimesque to the extent that all Vincent Cassel’s character lacked was a twirly moustache and a necklace of kitten skulls

* the Mark Zuckerberg character, when he talked about internet stuff, was about as convincing as my mum talking about internet stuff.

But I did enjoy my first Dutch cinema experience, on the whole, even though the film was thoroughly ridiculous, and the Code of Conduct was pretty much universally ignored. (A phone even went off at one point. I ask you.)

Next time I’ll go see something less stupid.

 

Filed under: FILM, REVIEW Tagged: Bullingdon Club, cinema, Code of Conduct, Jason Bourne, Mark Zuckerberg, Rambo, Tommy Hilfiger

Feedback Friday :: Summer in Amsterdam

work completed :: 1 script rewrite / 15 copywriting jobs / 1 hour of teaching

hours of Dutch learning :: 2 ish (but lots of osmosis – listening intently in gym changing rooms, that kind of thing)

physical exercise :: 5 gym visits, a couple of hours of cycling, a couple of hours of swimming

metaphysical exercise :: none

weight lost :: about 4 or 5 lbs. It’s going well. I’m feeling pretty confident that I’ll meet my target.

routine adhesion :: 75%

money owed to Donald Trump :: none

consecutive days spent in Holland :: 51

week 29/52 overall rating :: 9.5/10

…

An excellent week filled with great work and great fun – although some of the work was not as well paid as I’d previously (and foolishly) imagined, and some of the fun came with some dangerous pain. Most exciting of all though … SUMMER!

Everyone said it never really got hot here so when the sun came out – even though I was taking full advantage of it by swimming extraordinarily gracefully in the Amstel…

…and even though the sun felt pretty much as hot as it does anywhere else on the planet, I somehow thought, “Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Amsterdam! The sun has no power here!”

I didn’t think that consciously by the way. Even so, spending a good four or five unprotected hours in brilliant, blinding sun was pretty stupid. And my feet got the worst of it…

Good God, they look like fake feet. Like hideous hairless hams, all bloated and badly rouged. But no. They are real, and they are mine, and they still itch.

Still, increased threat of melanoma aside, it’s not as bad as when my lip was bitten in the night, by something hideous, three years ago in Sicily, and I woke up looking like a poor man’s Pete Burns…

Ha! Are we having fun yet? Of course we are.

Now look at these chaps relaxing at a riverside eatery.

Now pull back and look again – it’s actually an extraordinarily cool raft-type thing.

Marvellous.

What a world, etc. 

Now – on I get.

Have a great weekend and maybe – just for a couple of days – try to ignore the exponential dissolution of human civilisation that’s taking place all around you.

Anon!

x

Filed under: FEEDBACK, REAL LIFE Tagged: Amstel, boats, Pete Burns, summer, sunburn

Feedback Friday :: Panic Attack

Amsterdam street art 

No time! For the next six days I have so much work to do that I will definitely have to miss out on rather a lot of sleep. How exciting!

It’s not just SEO stuff neither. It’s also very interesting translations and a hugely enjoyable scriptwriting job.

Plus I’ve managed a good 85% routine adhesion and I’ve been to the gym every day – alternating cardio with Schwarzenegger.

Plus I had a very nice hug.

So, all in all, get this:

week 28/52 overall rating :: 9.5/10

[partridge]It quite literally doesn’t get much better than that. [/partridge]

Anon!

x

 

Filed under: FEEDBACK, REAL LIFE Tagged: work

Feedback Friday Sunday :: Soft in the Middle

work completed :: 4 copywriting jobs (1 whopper) / 1 hour of teaching

hours of Dutch learning :: 4ish (poor start)

cycling accidents :: 1. I got my front wheel stuck in a tram line – classic – and clattered to the ground on my left knee. I wasn’t particularly hurt though, and there was something balletic about my landing. I was quite pleased with it. I awarded myself a 6.

physical exercise :: three tennis sessions, quite a lot of cycling, much of it heavily laden

metaphysical exercise :: none

weight lost :: 5.5 lbs. More than this was lost in the first three days of the week when basically, I starved myself. Starvation is easy, and obviously ill-advised. I have since joined a gym.

routine adhesion :: 15%

money owed to Donald Trump :: none

consecutive days spent in Holland :: 37

week 27/52 overall rating :: 9/10

This week’s late edition of Feedback Friday is dedicated to Fletcher Horobin-Whorley. Not only does Fletcher have a name like a child’s toy from the 1900s, he also runs a landscape gardening business called Chauncey Gardens. When I worked for him for a few months last year, he used to take great pleasure in giving me jobs that required that I get down on the ground. Then when I was getting on with the job, he would creep up behind me, say my name and when I turned my head, he would take my photograph.

Then he would post the picture to Facebook with the caption: ‘Lying down on the job again.’

He’s a real wag is Fletcher. He also claims to have missed this week’s regular feedback post when it failed to appear at its usual time. So this is for him.

Hey, Fletcher. How’s it going? Yeah? Great, great. Hush now. It’s not all about you.

Well, what a week it’s been. If you’ll recall, I was on a train to a party outside of Amsterdam last time we spoke. Well, it turned into a doozy of a do, where I met lots of weird and wonderful people and made – I hope – a few more friends for life. People, eh? Good old people. When they’re not screaming or lashing out or killing one another, they really are excellent. You know what I mean, Fletch. You’re a people person. Deep down.

So this week has seen a cavalcade of interesting things. There have been both incidents and accidents, and hints and allegations. I have been overjoyed frequently, proud at times, at others slightly sad and on at least one occasion, rather rueful. I have also moved house twice and played tennis three times. Plus, I left my fake cigarette in Alkmaar but, despite the relative emotion of the week, I didn’t even miss it.

As you may recall, I started my 62 Days to Learn Dutch and Lose Two Stone experiment last Friday. My first step, having pigged out for months, was pretty much to starve myself for three days. Consequently, I lost half a stone. From the reading I have done, I have discovered that this:

a) is very unhealthy

b) was probably mostly water

c) will most probably not stay off

But I also discovered that there are weight loss techniques that incorporate fasting days. I’m looking into this. I like a fast. More importantly, I joined a gym yesterday and intend to attend extremely frequently. I’ve also just drawn up a daily routine for the next seven weeks that incorporates early rising and afternoon naps. All I need to do now is pull some discipline out of the bag and we’re away.

Or in the words of SN Goenka, if I work diligently and ardently, I am sure to succeed.

Have a great week, Fletcher. And anyone else who happens to have dropped by. Now Gym-time for me. 

Anon!

X

Filed under: FEEDBACK, REAL LIFE

Feedback Friday :: So It Begins…

work completed :: 6 copywriting jobs / 2 hours of teaching

hours of Dutch learning :: 0

books being read :: 0

physical exercise :: bit of cycling

weight :: 13st (182 pounds). Yes! I made it to my target weight with the help of a big push last night, finishing most of the crap that was in the fridge. Now, today, the weight loss has begun.

metaphysical exercise :: none

routine adhesion :: 10%

money owed to Donald Trump :: none

consecutive days spent in Holland :: 30

week 26/52 overall rating :: 8.5/10

…

Today, appropriately enough, is the day.

I’m on a train out of Amsterdam, but only for the evening.

I have no time, so I’ll keep this very brief.

Today is the first day of a 62-day experiment.

I have 62 days to:

a) lose 28 pounds in weight

b) learn Dutch (to a decent pre-intermediate level)

I’m also back on the 6am starts, with naps in the afternoons to allow for late evenings.

Oh, and I bought a bike and gained some further insight into the natural, hilarious insanity of the Dutch. Their roads are… very very different to English roads. Huge intersections with four lanes of traffic, plus trams, will have no give way signs and no traffic lights. And you’ve just got to figure it out. And of course, you do.

Shit, nearly there.

Have a great weekend.

Be special.

x

 

Filed under: FEEDBACK, REAL LIFE

Feedback Friday :: Brexit Comedown :: Ryan Noon Does Not Care

work completed :: 12 copywriting jobs / 2 hours of teaching / 1 weird voice recognition job for our technological overlords

hours of Dutch learning :: 1, plus I hope, some learning by osmosis

books being read :: 0

countries won back :: 0

continents lost :: 1

physical exercise :: I lugged stuff from place to place – sometimes on a bike with no handbrakes. I don’t mind telling you, I sweated like a gissy. It hasn’t interfered with my beefing up process though…

weight :: 80.9kg (12st 7 in the old Brexit money). What I’d like to do is get up to 82.5kg (13st) before July 8th. Then I’m going to see if I can lose two stone (12.7kg) in a month. It doesn’t matter if I fail. It’s for a thing.

metaphysical exercise :: none

routine adhesion :: none

money owed to Donald Trump :: none

consecutive days spent in Holland :: 23

moments of unqualified joy :: far too many to count. Seriously. Every other street, every quotidian chore performed for the first time here, every new neighbourhood, pretty much every new person is a source of enormous pleasure for me. Me and my psychedelic rose-tinted contact lens. I feel like a cult member without a cult. I’m going to have to get my shit together and start a cult. I know, I know.  

week 24/52 overall rating :: 8/10. I have allowed political events to deduct a point or two. 

Illustration by Kevin Mills

I moved into a new house on Tuesday, my third Dutch address in three weeks. So I’ll be here – courtesy of the wonderful and undeniably special Natalia – until July 7th.

So I can relax. I don’t have to return to England. Which is just as well because frankly, I’m a little depressed by the thought of ever going back there again after what’s occurred in the past 24 hours.

I’m still pretty much in denial.

Can we not have another referendum? Farage said… Oh, Jesus. Say it isn’t so. Nigel Farage. Boris Johnson. Donald Trump. It all just seems like a joke, like a prank gone awry or some grotesque satirical puppet-show. Surely we can’t have gone through all these millennia of human history and development and progress and so very much learning to still be stuck here, turning on each other like grunting troglodytes. 

More from Ryan below…

For me, Brexit is backwards, and backwards is defeatist and separatist and runs contrary to everything we need to be working towards and striving for, as a species.

But I don’t feel it’s the fault of the electorate. It seems to me our fear and anger have been primed and manipulated, meticulously, for millennia. We have been bred to attack if we’re made to feel threatened. If the people that are threatening us can make it seem like the real threat is elsewhere, however, and if they can make us afraid of that imaginary threat, and if they can make us froth with fury at that imaginary threat, then … well, we’re fucked. For now at least.

But even now, now that we do appear to be well and truly fucked, it’s important to try hard to keep positive.  

As a very wonderful man with whom I’m trying to cultivate a Twitter friendship said this morning: 

Naysayers may say, ‘Fascists? What fascists? The people voted “leave”. This was democracy in action.’

But this was not democracy in action. This was fascism in action. People voted because they were ignorant, and they were ignorant because the fascists are terribly, terribly good at propaganda. The people were manipulated.

That seems very clear to me. You might not agree. I guess we’ll see.

But if the same amount of combined time, energy and money had been channelled into making a coherent case for EU reforms, and for focusing on going forward together, and on collective humanity…. Oh, God. But yes. Barry is right. The sun will shine again. But for the moment, Brexit benefits no one but the odious collective of ghouls and sociopaths waiting in the wings.

So what else has happened? Oh yeah, Ryan Noon. The tweet above caused me to look him up, and when I looked him up, I found this conversation on his Facebook profile. The conversation followed the status update. Read it. It’s fascinating. 

Courtney is great, but Ryan Noon makes me terribly sad.

See for yourself. See how he is the perfect tool for a fascist elite. See how pliable he is. See how afraid he is of the wrong people. See how he has been bred to worship money and acquisitions and status. See how his heart and brain have become confused and congealed. See how he snorts and whinnies at the very idea of anything other than blaming and hating immigrants. See how he actually appears to believe that the whole LEAVE or REMAIN thing pertained to the presence of immigrants in the United Kingdom. See how his frankly dangerous levels of stupidity were shared and endorsed by 37 of his friends… 

Ryan, I love you. But you need to open your eyes, and your heart. Or you’re going to have a relatively unsatisfactory life, and there’s quite a high chance you’ll say and do some extremely regrettable things. In short, Ryan Noon: you need to start caring.

You do. For your own good. You need to start caring. 

Cheers!

Have a great weekend!

Filed under: FEEDBACK, POLITICS, REAL LIFE Tagged: Barry Crimmins, Boris Johnson, Brexit, Donald Trump, Nigel Farage, Ryan Noon

Feedback Friday Wednesday :: Time Flies

Fake child, real bird. Almere, 13 June.

work completed :: till when? Friday or today? You see what happens when a good routine is treated badly? Let’s say Friday :: 8 copywriting jobs (one relative whopper) / 3.5 hours of teaching

homes found :: 1

hours of Dutch learning :: 0. It’s the calm before the storm.

books being read :: 0

physical exercise :: none. Actually less than none. I did minus twenty physical exercise this week.

metaphysical exercise :: none

routine adhesion :: an accidental 15%

consecutive days spent in Holland :: 16

money owed to Donald Trump :: none

week 23/52 overall rating :: 9/10

I found a house! A lovely flaky creaky old house, packed to the rafters with dusty old things – endless unusual paintings, an old guitar, a shelf full of old children’s books (by which I mean old books, for young children, and for me).

The house came via a friend in London who read my open letter to the good people of Amsterdam, and passed it on to a friend of hers, who is one (by which I mean a good person of Amsterdam). I’ll be moving in on July 7th.

It’s almost as if my eagerly anticipated guides, How to Find Somewhere to Live in Amsterdam and How to Make s Great New Life in a Brand New City, are writing themselves.

But not quite.

And I should say, it’s not all plain sailing. The room in the lovely flaky creaky old house is only available for around two months, and is not actually available for another three weeks. The place I’m staying in now (now being fake Friday), I only have till Tuesday, so that means I have four days to find somewhere for 17 days. And as it’s only about £120 to return to England for that period, I could actually find myself back in Nottingham next week. (I didn’t.)

Anyway, whatever happens, I’m falling in love with this city. And I know it might sound silly, or slightly presumptuous – maybe even impertinent or arrogant, but I think the city is falling love with me too. That does sounds silly. What I mean is that because my attitude is good, the city is yielding all sorts of delights to me on a daily basis. But you know, I’m not being complacent. I’m just counting my blessings. For I am blessed.

And next week on my way to my third address in three weeks, I will ride my first Dutch bike with coaster brakes – which means you have to cycle backwards to stop. It will be quite hairy, but I will be fine.

Now I must work.

Goodbye.

 

Filed under: FEEDBACK, REAL LIFE Tagged: accommodation, Amsterdam

Feedback Friday :: Limbo

Not relevant, just excellent.

new job leads come good :: 1

work completed :: 10 copywriting jobs / 3 hours of teaching

homes applied for through Facebook:: 18

responses received :: 8

open letters written to Amsterdam :: 1

concrete responses to letter :: 1

viewings planned :: 2

hours of Dutch learning :: 0. As soon as I have my own place, I promise. Routine will reign supreme.

books being read :: 1. The How of Happiness, although not really.

physical exercise :: Shush. Stop asking. The place is key. The place.

metaphysical exercise :: The place.

routine adhesion :: 7%

consecutive days spent in Holland :: 9

money owed to Donald Trump :: none

week 22/52 overall rating :: 8/10.

I love this country. Holland, that is. I’m not living in Amsterdam yet, so I can’t say I love this city. This city is Almere. So actually, maybe I can say I love this city, but I wouldn’t want to live here. It’s a little bit quiet. I want to live in Amsterdam.

This city, however, this Almere, is quite the friendliest place I’ve ever been, bar none. It’s on a par with Farafenni in the Gambia, where I spent three months in 1998 – but in Farafenni I was pretty much the only white man, so I just imagined the attention I was getting was mostly down to that.

Here, wholly anonymous, you stroll down to the supermarket and sometimes it feels like you’re the subject of a practical joke, like some TV prankster has paid everyone to pretend they know you. It’s not just that they say hello, but that they say it with such startling sincerity and warm-heartedness that your brain feels confused because it doesn’t recognise these people who are pretending to be your friends.

I swear, it’s not just Almere though. Since the first day I arrived, every single person I’ve interacted with (bar one outstanding young grouch) has been smiling and charming and helpful and seemingly totally involved in the exchange. Therefore I can only conclude that this is the friendliest, most civilised country I’ve ever been to. And if I am exaggerating, I swear it isn’t intentional.

Having said all that, I do feel somewhat in limbo at the moment, and will continue to feel this way till I get a place of my own. I feel like I can’t properly relax until I know I’ll definitely be staying here for more than a couple of weeks.

All I know for sure at the moment is that – aside from a couple of viewings – I’ve got a place in Amsterdam, in the centre, for a week, from next Tuesday. Everything after that remains to be seen.

Which is fine, and kind of cool, but yes, slightly limbonic.

But we’ll see. Something will turn up, I am convinced.

…

Now, hands up who loves Bill O’Reilly.

Yeah, thought not, but please, if you have ten minutes, please watch the following three videos. They say an awful lot about Amsterdam, but a great deal more, sadly, about Bill O’Reilly and conservative politics the world over. But also, they’re fascinating.

Here, Bill O’Reilly on Amsterdam…

Here, a citizen of Amsterdam responds…

Here, O’Reilly’s counter-response – for he did respond in his typically bombastic, overblown, fact-free style – is further analysed in this video…

What I especially love about this second video is the total calm in the voice of the narrator. If I had put together something like this, I wouldn’t have been able to keep the snarl out of my voice. But just listen to how cool this guy is. He’s under extraordinary pressure to fly into a rage and fill the air with vicious words, but he’s as cool as somebody else’s cucumber.

Yes. I think the Dutch can teach me an awful lot.

Now, you have a good weekend. You hear?

 

Filed under: FEEDBACK, REAL LIFE Tagged: Amsterdam, Bill O'Reilly, roberwter

21 Reasons I Would Make the Perfect Housemate :: An Open Letter to Any Wonderful, Interesting People with a Room to Let in Amsterdam

Alright, let’s just get straight into it. We’ve no time to waste here.

Basically, like a hundred thousand other people, I’m looking for a place to live in Amsterdam. So, with that in mind, here are some things that you – potential housemate – should know about me. And if it seems like I’m boasting at times, that’s because this is like some weird reverse interview and I’m afraid I have to. But I’m not particularly boastful by nature, I don’t think. (Although it is sometimes fun to pretend.) Anyway, here goes – stuff.

…

1. I am a writer. This is good for so many reasons, not least because if you’re interesting enough, I’ll be sure to write about you – or a weird pseudo-offensive, almost unrecognisable version of you – and you could then end up being portrayed in a film by Matt Damon, Audrey Tautou, Javier Bardem or Laia Costa. Or, at the very least, I’ll blog about you and you’ll feel weird, but in a special way. (Or I won’t write about you at all, if you value your privacy. Spelbreker.)

Here I am, writing…

2. I make a very good chilli. I use meat because I eat meat, but aubergine works just as well and it doesn’t taste of death. One day I’ll go back to vegetarianism. One day.

3. I am an English teacher, and if you’re keen to improve your English at all, I’ll be more than happy to help you in a friendly, fun and non-irritating way. (Offer also applies to Scots and people from the north of England.)

4. I appreciate it’s a subjective thing, but people do tell me I’m quite funny. And I totally am. My previous remark about Scots and northerners might not be one of my best, but I’m pleased with it, I won’t deny it. Let that be your yardstick.

5. I laugh in the face of despair.

6. I am handy around the house. I’ve worked for a couple of years at least predominantly as a gardener-cum-builder and can turn my hand to pretty much anything, in terms of DIY. Basically fixing stuff and making stuff nice.

Here I am fixing a small hole in the barn roof in France…

7. I work online, writing for other people and teaching, and I enjoy it, but I also have big plans for my own writing over the next couple of years, and if they come to fruition – which they definitely will – the future is going to be almost unbearably exciting. And if we become great pals, you and I, you can totally share in that excitement. And I  – I hope – can share in your excitement. Oh, the excitement we’ll share! I’m excited already.

8. I play the guitar. I know lots of songs. We can sing them together round the camp fire we’ll build in the living room. It’ll be great. Not every night, obviously. But once in a while. Special occasions. Or if you prefer, I can just play when you’re out, and write resentful songs about you that you will never hear.

Here I am with an old guitar on the day the music died…

9. Due to the fact that we had horribly inconsiderate and noisy neighbours as a child, I am extremely considerate as an adult. In practice, what this means is that if I’m sharing a place with you and you’re in bed sleeping, or even just resting your eyes, I will creep around like a house-mouse in slippers, and I won’t even use my electric toothbrush for fear of waking you.

10. I’m not a fundamentalist, of any religion. In fact I’m an atheist. And something of a non-practising Buddhist. I’m also very keen on the idea of starting a religion of my own, but a religion for people who don’t like religion, people devoted simply to being nice to one another and not being inconsiderate, dictatorial shit-bags. And no silly gods. Join me.

11. I’m flexible. Whether you’re looking for someone for just a couple of months or a year or two, it could be me. I’d like to look into getting my own place after a couple of years, but until then, I’m flexible, like the Littlest Hobo.

12. I am incredibly optimistic. Not just about my own life but about the fate of the human race. I think things are on the turn. I genuinely believe we’re becoming more species-aware and we’re going to pull it around and stop worshipping money and start being nice to one another. This kind of optimism feeds into my everyday demeanour and makes me an absolute joy to be around. For the most part.

Here I am on breakfast television with a paper bag on my head. It’s not particularly relevant but it’s an intriguing picture and it breaks up the text…

13. I’m a people person. My ideal scenario would be to find a place where there was a bit of socialising some evenings. Eating together, the odd bottle of wine and the occasional godless singalong. But I can also be fiercely independent. I lived alone in a forest in France for 18 months, you know. Again, I’m flexible. You’d better be friendly though. Or you can bugger off.

14. I’m older than you. Probably. And with age, hopefully, comes wisdom. This means that when you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom and can’t stop weeping because someone you imagine you love has slept with someone else, I can help you realise that this is not the end of the world and that in actual fact, you’re better off without them. Come on now, dry your eyes and have a glass of wine. Mate.

15. I am a seasoned traveller and have lived in the following countries: England, Turkey, the Gambia, Italy and France. I’m not sure why that makes me a good person to live with really. Maybe because it means that I am open-minded and interesting. Yes. That. What it definitely doesn’t mean is that I am inconsistent and somehow a bit dodgy.

16. I am a massive cat fan. (See also medium-sized cats, kittens.) This means that, like all cat-lovers, I am a good human being with a wonderful big heart. (Exceptions to this rule are to be taken as proof of its validity.)

Here I am with George in France. I loved him so much…

17. Last night I told Facebook I was going to write an open letter to the people of Amsterdam convincing them what a great flatmate I’d make, when someone I used to live with and have not heard from for some time wrote this:

So there you go. You can’t argue with that.

18. Speaking of which, the two people I was just living with in London both gave me cards before I left. One of them wrote: ‘You’ve been amazing and I will miss having you around in London a great deal.’ And the other one wrote: ‘A massive thank you for your company, wisdom and wit over the past year – I have enjoyed it immensely and I have laughed A LOT. I will miss you very much.’ And I wasn’t even paying rent in London! Imagine how much of a joy I must be!

19. Joy aside, I am honest, reliable, kind, sociable and almost painfully friendly. Honest I am.

20. I speak fluent Italian and terrible French, and I aim to be fluent in Dutch within a year. This means that if you’re Dutch and would like to speak or improve your Italian or English or both, then my god, you’d better snap me up. (I know this is very similar to #3 but I’ll be honest – I’m running out of material here.)

21. Finally, this is just a small collection of the faces I can pull and things I can wear on my head…

Imagine the fun! You can’t. You simply can’t imagine it. You have to experience it. In the flesh.

So if you’ve read this far and you think it might be fun to share your space with me for a while, get in touch and let’s talk.

If you think it might be just dreadful, then go your merry way, and good luck to you.

Oh, one more thing! I will never leave streaks of poo in the loo – not even on the examination shelf. You have my word.

Filed under: ADVERTISING, LIST Tagged: accommodation, Amsterdam, Audrey Tautou, cats, flatsharing, fun, guitars, Javier Bardem, Laia Costa, Matt Damon, teaching, writing

Feedback Friday :: I Am in Holland

new job leads :: 2 (both rather nebulous at this stage)

work completed :: 7 copywriting jobs / 2 hours of teaching

hours of Dutch learning :: 0. Although I was introduced to this guy, although not literally.

books being read :: 1. The How of Happiness.

physical exercise :: I carried some real heavy bags. For a little while.

metaphysical exercise :: Give me a month and if things go well, I swear, I will be levitating.

routine adhesion :: 20%

consecutive days spent in Holland :: 2

week 21/52 overall rating :: 7/10. That might seem low. It does seem low. It is low, relatively. I think the reason it’s low is because I can’t discount the pressure I feel to make this life in Holland work, and at the moment, having just arrived and realised how expensive it is here, the pressure feels a little burdensome. But no one said it was going to be easy. 

…

So I arrived on Wednesday morning, the day after my birthday, and everything went pretty much according to plan. I met a couple of people I’d previously only Skyped with and we drank some coffee and spoke some words. Then I made my way to my Airbnb in Almere, around 30k outside of the centre of Amsterdam. Then I unpacked my stuff, went shopping in a small suburban supermarket and was – frankly – shocked by the prices. I am so used to giant supermarkets in London competing to see who can be the cheapest that I forgot the world can be so expensive. Look at this…

That night I sat in the garden with an Italian guy who is also staying here and we became acquainted over a relatively rather large amount of marijuana. And it was good.

Yesterday I worked all day, catching up with stuff. Last night at around 11 o’clock, I heard a loud mosquito buzzing around my head. I looked up and it was on the sloping ceiling six inches away from my face, and it was huge (1.2cm) and exotic-looking, like it carried ebola or some such.

Since I got all Buddhist a few years ago, I really try not to kill anything anymore – not flies, not ticks, not even mosquitos. But I swear, on this occasion, it was me or him. I really felt he’d have had my leg off in the night. So I smacked him with a book – it was a very quick dispatch; a gentle death; a loving death, you might say. Here’s the little fucker here…

However, aside from giant (1.2cm) exotic mosquitos and ridiculously expensive vegetables, my impressions so far of this place are really quite glowing.

Before I go any further, I know there are lovely, friendly people in London – in fact, I would go so far as to say most of the people in London are both lovely and friendly, but then I’m an optimist, and a people person, which is a delicious cocktail. In London though, people are often rather reticent to show you how lovely they are; often you have to tease it out of them. Here – based on my very slender experience so far – people don’t need teasing. Strangers say hello. Transport officials are extremely tolerant of your inability to buy the right ticket. People in general seem more open. Much more open. Which kind of goes against much of what I’ve read about the Dutch in the past few months.

We’ll see anyway. Early days, early days.

Also, Almere is very different to Amsterdam apparently, just as some sleepy Kent backwater in England is very different to Oxford Street. My first impressions, however, suggest very strongly that this is the place.

This afternoon, and indeed this weekend, I’m going into the city to have a proper explore.

As for you, whatever you’re doing, have yourself a whale.

Anon! 

Filed under: FEEDBACK, REAL LIFE Tagged: Almere, Amsterdam, courgettes, death, Holland, love, money, mosquitos, Talking Heads