Back in Exeter again

Land van de snelweg,
land van de sloot;
denkend aan Holland
verveel ik me dood

These were my thoughts looking out of a train window between Exeter and London, and it is what I thought this week, driving through the English countryside and strolling over the cobble beach of the Jurassic Coast.
With my apologies to Versluis and Marsman. But isn't any sincere parody in fact also a homage to the original?

I had a lovely week. As predicted, we talked, played games (my brother had brought the card game of Catan including two new extension sets!), watched movies (a.o. the Bommel-adaptation of Zwelgje and of course the delicious Singin' in the Rain), walked some bits of the South West Coast Path, had delicious dinners and lunches in various pubs and saw a bit of England. For one thing, we visited Castle Drogo (!). Last week I explained that when O. and I wanted to visit it, is turned out to be closed down for the winter. And that buses don't often go there. This is true, but with a car and after ignoring some red signboards on fences, my parents and brother and I had the privilege to see a marvelously intact and marvelously fascist building. It was freezing cold. The sun was setting (consequently some picture were taken, as usual). A marvelous tree stood next to it. A marvelous cat walked past (black - or am I making that up now?). It had a marvelous hedge labyrinth, two tearooms, a chapel, moat, portcullis (?) and exciting precipite. In short: I wouldn't mind living there.

But that's impossible, because I'm already going to live in Beer, the most picturesque seaside village of the United Kingdom. Well, all right, of Devon (because we wouldn't want to be forgetting about Cornwall, Wales and Kent, would we? Not to mention Whitby and Schotland).

But I think that is enough confusing words about my future.
We did lots of other things which I would tell about you if time was neverending and my memory not a sieve.

Back home in Exeter: the usual post-holiday hangover:
Heapes of mail to process. Posters fallen off the walls (no sophisticated wall solutions for me: just good old white tack). Unpacking. Piles of study books to read...

But my klavertje vier survived! This sure is the most loyal indoor plant I've ever had!
Also, I was vergast to some very welcome Christmas wishes - thank you.
And as O. brought two new cd's last week, I also have something to listen to. Plus the Jacques Brel and Drs. P my parents are lending me.
Not to forget the contents of my Kerstpakket, kindly picked up from the Thuiszorg headquarters by d. Including an excellent agenda I have absolutely no use for, considering the criminally expensive agenda I had already bought here in Exeter some time ago. So: anyone for an excellent agenda? And I found out I have missed a Christmas drink in the Tropenmuseum, which actually sounded quite nice. But oh, well: the other helpenden A never got a drink in the Royal Albert Memorial, so... (which museum, btw, my parents and brother did not get to see as I took them there when it was closed down...)

Which reminds me: I haven't apologised yet for my unannounced absence the past week. (Though I guess you're not desperate to spend your holidays reading Anna-ramblings anyway.) However, I'll do bettter this time, for if all goes well (bad Dutch roads tonight...) Y. will arrive tomorrow afternoon. This means: probably very few entries until January 3d.

Latest news from 'Hospitality' Services, displayed on every Lafrowda notice board some weeks ago (okay, so it's not really latest news, but haven't been around much lately and HServices are closed now, so nothing happening there at the moment):
"Water testing will take place on Wednesday 14th/Thursday 15th of December. THERE WILL BE NO DISRUPTION TO YOUR WATER SUPPLY".

It's getting time to round off. After I had written down the poemy thingy above, I felt the need to reread the original. And as it struck me once again, I would like to cite it in full here.

Denkend aan Holland
zie ik brede rivieren
traag door oneindig
laagland gaan,
rijen ondenkbaar
ijle populieren
als hoge pluimen
aan de einder staan;
en in de geweldige
ruimte verzonken
de boerderijen
verspreid door het land,
boomgroepen, dorpen,
geknotte torens,
kerken en olmen
in een groots verband.
De lucht hangt er laag
en de zon wordt er langzaam
in grijze veelkleurige
dampen gesmoord,
en in alle gewesten
wordt de stem van het water
met zijn eeuwige rampen
gevreesd en gehoord.