Peat, Mud and Bogs

I’d almost forgotten what it feels like to wake up by the sound of birds in the morning or to get your shoes all dirty with thick greasy mud or peat, having to walk across a bog trying to stay dry [mission impossible] or cycle to the top of a steep hill on a mountain bike… I was in New Forest, National Park near Southampton, over the weekend to visit friends. I went sailing with them in Croatia in 2006 facing some hectic gales and hail and thunderstorms at the time.

The trip to the south was crap since the M25 was the usual Saturday annoying kind of M25 where you sit in solid traffic for hours moving 50 mph -if you’re lucky- because there’s some serious rubbernecking going on literally over ‘nothing’. Because of this there was a two hour delay which was reduced to one hour at arrival due to the exceeding of speed limits the moment the rubbernecking zone was finally passed *sssh*.

Later that day I went to Lymington with M. to visit the local market and the pet shop. Lymington is a nice little place, slightly touristic but not in an annoying way. On our way back to the car, we sat down on the quay for a while to relax and enjoy a Cornish pasty and the view of the sea, the boats and the old! train going across the water. In the evening we went out for a pint and a curry at the local pub and the Indian restaurant in Ashurst.

Sunday we cycled most of the day through the New Forest, the weather was amazing: for two days it has been sunny and warm: perfect to go for a bike ride, speed down a hill, watch the wild horses or sit near a babbling stream for half an hour to enjoy a picnic while basking in the sun. I had some quiet time sitting next to a stream listening to the birds and the sound of the water. I came back with a ‘Katjang’ tan and totally relaxed: holding on to this while I can…

Coz today, it’s pissing with a strong wind and grey sky that’s about to burst with thunder any moment now.

Lymington

Lymington

A picnic break enjoying the sun

New Forest, National Park

Sitting next to a babbling stream for a while

New Forest, National Park

Swamp

Swamp

Swamp

The wild horses

Farewell Old Pub

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…