Immepashok

Verstappen, man, geweldig en waar zijn de vrouwen? Ja en Verstappen die woont dus in hetzelfde appartementengebouw als hoeheetdie, toch wel raar, vind je niet. Man, die hooikoorts, lijkt wel of het elk jaar erger is, maar weet je wat ik dan weer wel leuk vind aan dat winkelen, dat we straks even lekker een happie gaan eten, toch, jij niet? Maar waar die vrouwen blijven, die kunnen er geen genoeg van krijgen.

Hoorde ik twee vrienden tegen elkaar zeggen op ‘t bankje voor een winkel.

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Yes or No. Remembering WWII.

Every year, on 4th May, we go to the ‘Eerebegraafplaats Bloemendaal’, to visit the grave of my grandfather, Hilbert van Dijk. Shot in the dunes on 16th July 1944, along with the Post boys and a number of other young men. Up until 2008, I could still call my grandmother, when standing at Opa's grave - she lived to almost 102. She was, just like her husband, a brave, extraordinarily brave, member of the Resistance. And when you make that silent march through the dunes to the 'Honorary Cemetery' and stand shivering slightly by the grave, then it’s almost as if you too are just a little bit brave. Not that our pain is anywhere near their pain or fear. Let's face it, you jump in your car, pop on some music, bar of chocolate for the journey. Pompidom, wonder who’ll turn up this year? How very different from what…

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S’nosnikrap

I remember it so well - what it was like before, when we were not yet – when I was not yet – and before they, before anyone. Others have long since forgotten what it was like before and might think I’ve always been like this. They’ve got used to it, they hardly ever think of what you were like before.     Before and After You do. You think in terms of Before and After. Problem is: there’s nothing in between that 'Before and After.' It happened just like that, all they said was a hasty: "Here ... catch!" and that was that. You suddenly landed into the world of ‘After’, too scared to even open your eyes in that entirely new world, cautiously peeking through one eye, to make sure that your family was still around, a bit later you dare to check who else is there. Huh?…

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Nosnikrap

Ik weet nog zo goed hoe het daarvóór was, toen we nog niet en toen ik nog niet en toen zij nog niet en toen niemand nog niet. Iemand anders is allang vergeten hoe het daarvóór was en denkt dat jij altijd al zo was. Die is er al aan gewend, die is er niet de hele dag mee bezig hoe jij ook alweer daarvóór was. (more…)

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The stress of spring

If there’s one thing I find stressful, it’s spring. Especially when it’s nice weather. You can’t simply slob out in front of the telly, knock out a new column, read a book, or tidy out that cupboard you’ve been meaning to. No way, not in this weather. Totally Out of the Question. If you’re still in bed at 8am at the weekend in this weather, you already feel it coming. Spring stress.

 

 

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StripeyDressy never had a baby in a tree.

Did I tell you about this lady who had a baby in a tree? Goodness me! I’ve got such terrible pack pain. Oh yeah, I suffer from that too. But in my case it’s a suspected double hernia. Nothing they can do for it. At least you can still walk, I see. I feel awful. Such a bad head! Must be that hay fever again. Oh yeah, I know someone with that. They can’t step foot out of the house these days, not unless they’re wearing a sort of space suit. Now that is bad. Have you any idea just how much homework and exams I’ve got this week? Oh yeah? Well I heard that there were no school holidays in the UK at all any more. You have to study all year round. Without any grant by the way. And you think you’ve got it bad! Do you realise…

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CuddleDressy

The word alone – cuddle. Definitely an onomatopoeia (what a word that is too btw), a word that sounds like what it means. Cuddle. Or ‘hug’. No, give me a cuddle any day. My indispensable etymological dictionary says that the verb ‘to cuddle’ in Dutch (knuffel) can be traced back to ‘doing something in a clumsy manner’. Makes sense. We’ve all experienced those clumsy cuddles from time to time.   (more…)

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4 copypaws on the ground

Imagine you’re a copywriter and you’re polishing someone’s text. Could be anyone. The CEO of a large multinational, a student who’s written a brilliant piece of research but has difficulty with ‘i before e, except after c’, a senior manager who needs to prepare a communication plan for an important presentation, or a small business owner who has better things to do with his time (quite frankly) than devise clever web content. Essentially anyone who struggles to find the right words, creates rambling, mile-long sentences containing 6 subordinate clauses, has absolutely no clue about structure, or compiles doorstop sales brochures that send customers to sleep. Even broadsheet editors who can’t control their compulsion to embellish every second sentence with a metaphor - we copywriters help them all. From CEO to primary school headmaster, to the student who daren’t submit his thesis. I related this around the kitchen table one evening. And…

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Tien dingen, die ik tegen mezelf zou zeggen als ik mijn vriend was

Ooit zei ik tegen iemand die me ongevraagd advies gaf: luister, ik mag dan mijn gezondheid verliezen, mijn verstand verlies ik niet en als ik advies nodig heb, dan vraag ik het wel en of jij op de shortlist staat weet ik zo net nog niet. Dat was een beetje hard. Intussen raken we steeds vertrouwder met allerlei parkinson-uitdagingen. Vind ze eigenlijk geen van allen leuk. Maar ik laat me niet van mijn pad af gooien, van mijn Groots en Meeslepende Leven, je weet wel, dat vage Grootse Plan van Dingen die ik Ga Bereiken. Wat er ook gebeurt. En mijn vrienden zeggen Ze zeggen dat ik het weleens wat rustiger aan mag doen. Jaja, hoe en wanneer ging ik dat dan doen? En ze zeggen dat ik weleens wat meer mag genieten. Ja, mijn idee, maar eeeh hoe waar en wanneer dan ook alweer? Rollen omdraaien Op een dag…

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