Shrove Tuesday

As a born and raised protestant in a fairly “heavy” part of the country, I don’t really have carnival traditions, nor knew about Shrove Tuesday until Sandra introduced me to it. Making pancakes that day was an old family tradition of hers, something her father did and she did as well, if she remembered in time. And as with most of her cooking, her pancakes, especially the light crepe like ones we ate with a bit of sugar and lemon, were wonderful. So much better than anything I could make that I didn’t bother to even try, but rather heated up some store bought poffertjes in the oven, the sad single man’s best alternative…

Not feeling too wonderful anyway, as my brain seems intent to slowly leak out of my nose and eyes: either I got someone’s cold, something Cronenbergian is going on in my skulll or hayfever season has started even earlier than normal. All in all I feel like death warmed over, poffertjes the most substantial thing I felt like eating.

Not to end on a bummer, here’s George Benson with Breezin’:



Don’t you worry ’bout a thing…



As I said last year, that old Bob Marley song kept going round and round my head during the darkest days of Sandra’s illness. What I didn’t say then was how it came into my head, which also why it’s back now. I hate to admit it, but it’s all Ajax’s fault.

I’m not an Ajax fan even if I live in Amsterdam, as I long ago gave my loyalty to Feijenoord, though for most part this has been academic, as I never followed football all that much other than during European or World championships. But when Sandra got ill and kept being ill, football was one of the things I fled into, something that I could absorb myself in, something that in the long run doesn’t really matter, but which can get me worked up enough not to think too much about what could happen; perhaps most importantly, football was and is something that doesn’t remind me of Sandra, something I don’t associate with her. And so I found myself watching games I never would’ve in normal times, including Ajax playing European matches. Which meant, as in the video above, hearing Ajax supporters singing their songs, of which “Three Little Birds” is a particulate favourite of theirs and it burned itself in my mind, damn them.

Then of course it was a song that embodied a sort of slightly cynical optimism to me; now it just reminds me of better times and I can’t help but get a bit choked up hearing it. So much for finding escape in football…

Beer, glorious beer

Meanwhile, last weekend, I was busy drinking beer and watching the rugby. I took some pictures and would like to share them with y’all. All the cool middle aged blokes with beards and hats kids are beerblogging, so why not me?

Coopers Extra Stout

How often do you get the chance to drink an Australian stout? Not often, so I had to try it. Coopers Extra Stout, brewed in South Australia is perfectly drinkable, tastes just like any other stout but lacks a bit of oomph once you get through the initial taste. Decent, not spectacular, would drink again if in the vicinity of where it was brewed.

Meantime Chocolate Porter

Gorgeous. I’ve had a few chocolate stouts, but not yet a chocolate porter (if there’s any real difference between a modern stout and a modern porter that is). Unlike many attempts, Meantime‘s porter keeps it’s chocolate undertones throughout the glass, doesn’t overwhelm the beer with the chocolate or vice versa and will be gotten again this weekend if I can.

Alba Scots Pine Ale

The first of four different ales I drunk this weekend, this was the best. A pine ale, which I hadn’t heard of before, but which tasted very nice. According to the label, Alba is a “triple style ale, brewed to a traditional Highland recipe using the sprigs of spruce and pine collected every spring”. How traditional this is, is anybody’s guess as IIRC, the Scottish Highlands haven’t had their pine and spruce coverings all that long. Doesn’t matter for the taste, which is nice and beery going in, with a decided aftertaste of swiss roll (!), which sounds strange but works, especially after the slightly more bitter chocolate porter. Will get more from this one as well.

T.E.A. - Traditional English Ale

Hogsback‘s T.E.A., Traditional English Ale, was recommended by one of the Bierkoning‘s staff, but was a disappointment. A run of the mill ale, which started alright but whose flavour didn’t last; might have been better in a smaller bottle.

Double Dragon Welsh ale

The Welsh Double Dragon ale, which is the same strength as the T.E.A., 4.2%, I got for the Ireland v Wales Six Nations match and it worked, in so far as the Welsh won. Better than the previous ale, still a bit on the bland side for me. Decent enough, but nothing special. Will drink in Wales, will likely not go out of my way for it.

Sunburst Golden Ale

Darkstar’sSunburst on the other hand, a golden ale from Sussex is brilliant. This tasted like an English ale should, not too bitter, but with a slightly nutty aftertaste and which is sustained throughout my drinking it. Would like to drink more of it.

Nut Brown Ale

Speaking of nutty, the last beer of the weekend (actually drunk on a Monday evening) was very nutty, but then this is Samuel Smith‘s nut brown ale, coming all the way from Yorkshire and brewed at what they claim is the oldest brewery there. Lovely taste, eminently drinkable, not very damaging. Will get more of this too.

So in total: seven beers sampled, two or three disappointments, four beers I will shortly get again.

Three months on — it still hurts

Sandra would’ve loved this weather. Not the cold so much, as her kidney troubles and other health problems leaving her vulnerable to colder temperatures just like my more proportioned build left me cursing milder weather. Besides which, she always was nesh, stemming from a childhood when winters were routinely bitter cold and central heating non-existing. But despite this, she’d still rather have cold, crisp, clear winter days like today was, then the endless grey and wet misery that’s the usual Dutch winter, when the country draws into itself from November to long into April if you’re unlucky. She had been spoiled with winters in Plymouth, Devon and Cornwall’s relatively southern latitude and gentle caress of the Gulf Stream ensuring almost sub-tropical winters. I remember being there with her in November one year, still walking around in t-shirt when I had had to wear a wintercoat and gloves in Amsterdam the day before…

She’s beyond such cares now of course, today making it exactly three months since she died. Sometimes I wonder if the prospect of another long, grey Dutch winter didn’t help her make the decision not to fight on anymore. I can’t blame her if true, but I do miss her. Especially when something like the video below happens. Four months ago I would’ve rung her to share its awwness, or shown it to her on Youtube the next day, now there’s nobody to share it with, well, expect all y’all:



Adorable, isn’t it? The kitten that is, not Kenny Dalgliesh.

Snowmageddon NL

picture of snowy Amsterdam taken at work

I’ve heard it said that in Texas or California, when the first snowflakes start to fall, every car on the road starts skipping. Whether or not that’s true or not I don’t know, but certainly here in good old Holland, where we pride ourselves on our old fashioned Dutch winters, the first day of snow saw eighthundred kilometers of traffic jams and the complete disarray of the railways. Luckily the metro and buses were still running and I got home with no problems, but I wouldn’t have wanted to travel anywhere outside Amsterdam this weekend…

What amused and annoyed me in equal measures was the reporting in the main news broadcast tonight. First we got a look at the chaos on the road, full with cheerful people stoically commenting on how long it would take them to get home, all accepting that snow in the Netherlands means slippery roads, lower speeds and long long traffic jams. Then we went to the railways and there we only got complaining travellers frustrated about the delays and cancelled trains and how badly the railway people were handling things. Granted, when you’re driving a car you still have some illusion of control while it can be incredibly frustrating when you don’t know when you can travel, how you are going to travel and if you can actually travel in the first place, but the tone of the reporting was meaningful. The same weather that was shown as an act of god in the first item, in the second item was blamed on the railways lack of preparation…