Waiting for the tube in London, years back. Opposite on the wall was this great billboard, promoting lipstick. Which in itself is an alien concept to me, if it wasn’t for the powerful copy. It said something along the lines of: Face the Boss. Face your ex. Face the undertaker (ok, made that one up). Face yourself. (more…)
Summer 2013. Off to France for a family holiday. The boss of the holiday village is a straightforward Dutch guy. Pensionado, builder, fond of rough language.
Vandaag haal ik een wat onbekender jurkie tevoorschijn. ’t Jurkie hangt nu te wapperen in een tijdschrift met iets van 15.000 lezers, op een congres met honderden zorgverleners. (more…)
I thought that I was scared, but it seems that others are every bit as scared as me. Scared of me, my Parkinson’s, my fear, my tears. How you notice exactly, I can’t quite put my finger on, but you do notice. An imperceptible, almost reverent expectation. And then comes the inevitable question, the question that I too would still dearly love to answer: how did you first spot it? There’s always another hidden question within, a sort of self-check. (more…)
The lady with the new glasses says: Parkinson’s? I know a few people with Parkinson’s.