





The plans are still as vague as ever but it was interesting to have a look at what is possible.
Uitje in Dutch can mean both 'outing' and 'small onion'... this blog is gradully moving away from outings and more towards a greater variety of, em, onions?




























A young English Bulldog in amongst the Bull Terriers.


Elsa and I got ourselves the best places on the huge bed (after having been jealous of the ones who'd got this ideal 'seat' in one of the other rooms earlier) and settled back onto the pillows in a room full of strangely penetrant esoteric scents. We put our masks on, the lights went out and the music and readings began. This time no 'live' poet but a recording, including Reve himself waffling on about Catholicism. What a wonderful voice he has.
The last poet of the evening upstairs in the lecture room was also well-worth hearing. A high-speed hyperpoetess who could certainly teach some of the more draaaaawwwn out readers a thing or two about delivery.
I think my next Literary Outing will probably be to this new museum for which I picked up a few free entry tickets.
Steamed one in a bowl for about an hour and the other one in a hot oven for slightly less. Both had much the same taste and structure but the baked version had a darker outside layer. Anyway, it was rather good. Nothing spectacular but definitely more than 'just edible'. I'd expected to taste more ginger but it was just like a bit of a vaguely fruity crumbly meatloaf. Very filling - I didn't eat as much as I thought I would and have put most of it in the freezer in small portions.
In the past I have occasionally got myself organised enough to have a proper Burns Supper, complete with Haggis. Surprisingly enough no Dutch person has as yet been as disgusted by it as they had expected to be beforehand. (It certainly never caused such spectacularly horrified faces as when I gave a few pals some maté to try which I'd brought back from Argentina...) But this year I have no haggis in the cupboard but I do have neeps and tatties. So decided to try to concoct something that might serve as some sort of exotic alternative to haggis.


I had to run really fast and jump in before the whirly brushes reached her nose. I could feel the spray flying up towards us. But I made it. There's something simultaneously soothing and scary about being in a carwash. It's all very psychadelic and foamy and fascinating, but at the same time there's an optical illusion as the brushes advance that it's the car that's moving forward and that everything is out of control. I always lunge for the handbrake and it's never necessary. Of course I now have had this song in my head all the way home...
Usually if I try to sneak to the window to take a photo the birds see me moving and fly off but today I managed to get there very slowly and captured this robin and blue tit, though the robin is skulking in the shadows of the fir ready to flee and not showing his redbreast to best advantage.



Surprise, surprise, the one-eyed Rottweiler has been taken in permanently... So she'll be one of my future lodgerdogs.















