Today

Just discovered that last week had the favourable side-effect of curing my right hand from a developing RSI. Or, in other words: time to get back to work...

Today I had a meeting to prepare another medieval presentation. The poor girl "had not found the time to read the article", which, she had the nerves to add, was just as well, for she had loaned the wrong book anyway. But I completely understand: consulting your course manual is a tough business indeed. Eventually, our meeting was spent by telling me about another first year student who had quit university because of a work overload. For C.'s s.: we (first year students) only have to read one article every fortnight! But you know what the most wonderful part was? I did not give a s.! It did nor irritate me, or frustrate me, or anything. Guess I'm in a good mood today. Or maybe I have been sufficiently reminded again of the more important things in life.

In the meantime you have been sending me loads of letters, both manuscribed and electronic: thank you so much! It does provide some kind of crash barrier for my feelings of well-/ill-being now the "mysterious guest", as K. called him, or "someone special" as someone else said (gosh, this person must be quite something!) has gone.

In one of these letters, M. shares with us this fragment of Gerrit Kouwenaar, which might not be altogether comforting, as she already pointed out, but still is Great Poetry:

en men herhaalt zijn dag
en men herhaalt zijn nacht
en men herhaalt
zijn herhaling
en men gaat mank
en men weet het
en men is een
mens

I also thank you for keeping me up-to-date on Dutch news. (I heard they are thinking about changing Dutch orthography again. S.: your trip to Germany sounds absolutely fabulous! Thanks for Dribble&Pluck's hugs; I'm glad you're doing maths again; and there's always the alternative to flying called Eurolines.) That's indeed something that wil er nog weleens bij inschieten. By the way, about Argentinian news: I paid a visit to M.M. brother's blog, and I might add that, unfortunately, the Buenos Aires Gay Pride did turn nasty...

...

It's late in the evening now. Some events of tonight made my thoughts go back to the Netherlands. I got a phone-call and some lovely e-mails. Furthermore, I went to a drink, organised by a society for international students, where I met a boy who

1. turned out to be Dutch (might be the first Dutch non-UCU student I actually meet up here)
2. turned out to study in Utrecht
3. turned out to be doing his master's...
4. comprising one nine month and one six month research...
5. ...in biology.

Well, heb je ooit. Okay, I have to admit, he is one year ahead (still sort of in the old program).

It was a nice, calm evening out. Not too late. Not too smoky. Not too drunk (the other visitors, I mean. I am never drunk). And didn't I tell someone I was yearning for a decent tea towel? I won one! They had prepared a cute game for which you had to find out what function a series of traditional Indian household items had (it was an India-themed party), and as apparently another girl and I had the most fruitful imagination (or spent most hours in the onvolprezen Tropenmuseum... > go to Amsterdam and visit it! That is, if you are not from the tropics yourself), we both won a towel featuring a map of India, two cows, one farmer and the words "Greetings from India"! Imagine the bliss. Or wait, no, better not try. Your brain might explode.

Anyway, Joséphine and I got a lift back through the "Cold, Cold Night", and now it's time for me to finish the spine-shivering story of Luella Miller. By the way: once again we are "pressed with our noses upon the facts" (or something): Bram Stoker really is the most competent vampire storyteller.

I kiss you good night.