Amsterdam - A Bat and a Box of Wool

 

A few years back I went to the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam and took photographs of some of the exhibits. There is one of a stuffed bat that I've yet to investigate and then there is this one, a Chinese lacquered box containing a paltry collection of woollen yarn - not even enough to knit an infant's bonnet.

Apparently, Van Gogh used coloured yarn to experiment with colour matching which he then brought to his painting. Recently, whilst at the Van Gogh exhibit in Belfast I learned that some art historians have a theory that the artist suffered from a form of colour vision deficiency*  where there is a predominance of yellow in vision. Before I had my cataracts removed I had become accustomed to yellow tones in my vision but not quite as yellow as looking through the Lucozade cellophane wrapping**. After my procedure blues were clearer. It was like seeing through the eyes of a child, the colours were wonderful.

Now I've realised that what I have always loved best about knitting stripey jumpers is using different colours and what will do first when beginning a new project is decide what colours I will not be using. The last one (I finished it yesterday and still have a little bit of sewing to do) was to have no green, yellow, white or orange. The one I started today will definitely exclude pinks and bright reds. 

Which gives me a problem. Sometime before Leitrim Sister's special birthday, I promised I would make her a jumper or cardigan with sixty colours. I must have been on the wine. If you are reading this LS, could you please let me know which colours to leave out?

Research completed, too easy with Google. Stuffed bat, maybe this one, was painted by the  artist.

*Xanthopsia

**Only Boomers will know about the yellow cellophane

A Bit Of A Siege

It was Bert who I first heard using the expression 'a siege' to describe a situation that was somewhat fraught. It must be a Northern Ireland Protestant thing, Derry never far from their minds, the taste of rattus norvegicus still on the tongue.

Well, it's been a bit siegy at Nellybert's this past week or more what with all the dog visitors (Gracie, Maya, Dora and Jack) and the kitchen fitting. Good news. It's nearly done. It's almost functional but, as it is sore in need of decorating, there will be no photographs until that is completed.

Today was a complete siege. Thankfully I had Zoe by my side to support me through it. It was The Return To Ikea.

There was a lot of stuff to bring back. For some reason, Ikea sold and delivered to us an entire set of drawer fittings for a unit that was meant to be shelved. So that had to go back as did various white bits, some superfluous fittings, a damaged door and some knobs that we'd changed our minds about. The whole lot came to about £250. Shame I'd lost the original receipt. So it was off for a bit of a wait and a people watch at Returns.

There are some funny people around. One woman returned three packets of paper napkins. I cannot imagine bothering to do that myself. I'd have kept them to use another time even though when that time came I'd have totally forgotten where I'd stashed them.

Eventually, my number was called. I wheeled my laden trolley to the young man's desk and began explaining that I was going to be a complete pain in the ass as I had no receipt as it had become buried under four grands worth of kitchen and then I'd gone to Amsterdam and never saw it again.

Amsterdam? he said. No problem, he said. And then efficiently worked his way through everything while telling me how much he loved Amsterdam and how he'd been there eight times and was going back in July. Did I partake? he asked. Sure, said I. When in Rome and all that.

As sieges go, that part wasn't too bad.

Zoe and I had arranged to meet in the restaurant. I was to phone her when I was done but, siege!, no coverage. Eventually, I had her paged. What's the name? asked the Ikea co-worker. Zoe Surname, I told her. Soon this message rang out throughout the store,

Customer Announcement. Can Zoe go to the restaurant where her Mum is waiting for her?

I was worried that there might be flocks of Zoes descending on the restaurant but just one turned up. My one.

We had the usual run through the store. I replaced handles and damaged door, bought another pull-out tray for the larder and inserts for the cutlery drawer. The door and tray had to be ordered, paid for at the till and collected from another desk. Somehow, between the till and the collection desk, I mislaid the receipt and another one had to be printed. Siege! Meanwhile, Zoe started gathering her bits and pieces to take to the van and somehow between the till and the collection desk and the van a little alarm clock she'd bought for her youngest daughter was not to be found. Siege! First thought was that it had been left at the till but apparently not. What happened next was that an Ikea co-worker had to take details and then go and watch security footage whereupon she returned and informed us that they had Nelly on camera picking it up at the till and placing it on top of some shelf brackets and then leaving the till area. So that was gone. Dropped somewhere and picked up by someone who has got themselves a free alarm clock. Good luck to whoever it is, may they never oversleep again.

To console ourselves for the loss of Evie's clock we returned to the restaurant and ate cake. Nothing else for it. As siege tucker goes that had to be a whole lot nicer than boiled rat.

This is the style of our kitchen. Not the handles. Ours are black.

After Amsterdam Before Ikea Kitchen

At The Minute

I got back from three nights in Amsterdam on Wednesday and, honestly, it's taken this long to regain my equilibrium. The house is literally upside down. No kitchen sink, no worktops, no oven. Yet Bert has been working flat out. It didn't help that Ikea's picking and delivery service did not come up to scratch. Only today I had to hotfoot it to the Belfast store to get the brackets that hold the oven up. And had to wait an hour to get it sorted. There is no word of Ed the Electric. (We're having to move plug points and light switches around) and the kitchen sink worktop won't be cut until Monday/Tuesday at the earliest as Bert has decided to have the experts do that. Then we'll need a gas fitter to connect the hob. So much for do-it-yourself.

My private secret sitting room has become a flatpack store room as has the hallway. The dishwasher is disconnected so all dishwashing has been moved to the scullery. Still, a week will make a big difference.

A Day Or Two Ago

Amsterdam was lovely. I walked for miles and miles. Walking in unfamiliar cities has to be one of my very favourite things. I set off each of the two mornings with no particular plan. I might go to the Botanical Gardens, I might go to the Van Gogh. I will stop off at any interesting place or site that catches my eye.

Hortus Botanicus. 

Things I noticed about Amsterdam,

1. The men have amazing hairlines.

2. David Beckham must have Dutch ancestors.

3. The people (notably the men) are very polite.

4. The Men! Still sexy in their sixties and seventies.

Some other things.

1. There were no apparent homeless people or beggars. I'm told there are two reasons for this. The Dutch social welfare system is supportive and Dutch people have no time for beggars.

2. The ladies on the trams are very impatient. Not very Dutch. Still, I expect they have to deal with a lot of very silly tourists.

3. The cyclists take no prisoners and they do not wear helmets. Neither do their children.

4. There are hardly any children.

5. In keeping with the Dutch refusal to wear cycling helmets, they are also fairly unconcerned that there are acres of deep water hazards everywhere, and that their stairs are amazingly tricky and steep with no warning signs to watch one's head or beware of falling. I found this refreshing. Dutch people (unlike the British) expect people to take responsibility for their own personal safety.

Where we stayed.

In a hostel! I always thought that hostels were grim, utilitarian places inhabited by penniless youth. The hostel was called Generator, 4 years old and formerly a university building. It was lovely. Great atmosphere and everything one could possibly need except room service and a heated swimming pool. It was well-connected, public transport had one at the centre of things in no time but during the day, I found it more fun to walk.

Other things I found interesting.

1. A huge amount of ring-necked parakeets just like in London.

2. The city felt safe.

3. Walking through the red light district (daylight hours) there was a commotion. A woman, wearing a lacy slip, little else, outside on the cobbles trying to entice a little French bulldog back to their shared apartment.

Reading.

1. Vacation time means reading time.

2. I brought Ian McEwan's Amsterdam. Seemed appropriate. By the time I got to the section actually based in Amsterdam, I'd already walked those places.

3. I finished the McEwan on the third night and immediately swapped it for another in the hostel's book exchange shelves. The book I picked was The Genocides by Thomas M. Disch. I'd heard of neither the title or author before. It was a thought-provoking and gripping read. I finished it on the plane home the next day.

4. Of course, I found a bookshop. It was wonderful, specialised in English language books and was alphabetized! I bought Sula by Toni Morrison. The bookshop owner seemed impressed with my choice (or maybe he was just being polite?). Still, you never get that fellow intellectual knowing nod when the paperback proffered is a Cecilia Ahern.

End.

Then I ate what Amsterdam calls a space cookie but our friend L. calls home baking. Things might get surreal. Best stop.