I got an email in two days ago through one of those social networking websites that I try so hard to avoid because I don’t feel the need to expose myself in a way like some of my friends do. I’m cautious about certain things and when I notice some of them mix work with pleasure, publish phone numbers, addresses, bank account numbers, job history and what viral diseases they have conquered over the years, it truly makes me wonder if they realise that ignorance ain’t bliss in this case: there are sickos online cruising for this kind of stuff.
Anyway… The email was from my friend B. one of my former Rietveld students. The reason why I mention this is because she told me some disturbing news. My all-time favourite -best Irish pub in Amsterdam- ‘the Tig’ has closed, the place where I would have a meal and meet up with friends. Where I knew some of the regulars, the owner and the manager: both would always say hi and have a chat with me. The pub that was my second home, served the best salads, English breakfast, roasted potato wedges and battered shrimps in town.
(…)
All those little gems that were mine to treasure and share with friends, hidden away from the annoying tourists, the yuppies and the crowds, the spots that make Amsterdam my home, all seem to slowly disappear. B. wrote me: a shame really because it was such a nice place and it always reminded me of you and all the wonderful times we had there… Indeed, good times we had… Farewell my dear old pub, I will always have the wonderful memories of happiness, friends, too many whiskies and trying to cycle home in an intoxicated state.
My birthday at the Tig, one of many happy, fun and hilarious moments there…
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