Schimple!

OK so this morning I had 3 injections in preparation for a trip to somewhere I'm still in two minds about visiting. Add to this some prescription drugs, self-medication, huge volumes of caffeine and the not inconsequential lungs full of "it's-legal-in-Amsterdam" smoke I've been breathing in over the last few days, and... well, I'm going to go for a sort of Dutch-inspired stream of consciousness. We'll just see what happens...

So, I spent a long weekend in the Netherlands (I'm not allowed to say Holland for historio-geographical reasons - namely that Utrecht isn't technically in Holland, it's in Utrecht.) I normally try to go on holiday under some sort of pretence of it being educational in some way, or at at any rate cultural. This... well, wasn't, really. But here's some stuff I've discovered:

- A sort of tradition has evolved whereby whenever we go abroad we have to climb something steep and high. This time it was the Dom Tower, with its 400-odd steps. This made me realise a.) I like views, and this one was a good view; b.) my mate is unexpectedly afraid of heights; c.) the training is starting to pay off: no achy legs the following day. Woohoo!
- Public transport elsewhere in Europe is better than in London. Quick comparison: Warren St to Heathrow - trains delayed; had to stand until Hounslow (pre-rush hour!) doors kept failing to shut. Utrecht-Everywhere-Utrecht - double-decker trains, on time, seats galore. Ooh and Amsterdam has trams. You can't beat a tram. Eeee, reminds me of t'North!
- Museums are cool, but the best part of the weekend was listening to my friend hurl random abuse at the people on the Antiques Roadshow.
- The Dutch don't know how to make a decent cup of tea, but they always have a good selection of poncey teas available.
- Dutch pancakes are not as nice as French crepes
- ...but they do love their sausages
- I also love their sausages
- I love all sausages
- That isn't a euphemism
- Ooh and those little deep fried things with minced beef and potato in them...mmmmm....
- Where was I?
- Oh, yes...
- Watching "Goldmember" before going to Holland was not a Good Idea, because it makes you want to laugh at the Dutch language and accent.
- But then, their word for shop is "Winkel" and "whipped cream" is "slag room", so they are asking for it.
- And apparently the words for "mate", "whore" and "rented property" are all the same, which is just screaming out for some sort of sketch to be written about it.
- But nonetheless, putting "Sch" before every word beginning with an S in it does not consitute a Dutch accent and is neither big nor clever
- (Ooh, does that make the Meerkat Dutch?)
- (Why have we assumed all along he's Russian?)
- (Do they have Meerkats in Russia? Or Holland? Except for in zoos?)
- (I'm Confusched.com.... )
- (I said that's neither big nor clever!!! And anyway, that's the wrong advert, schtupid!!)
- SCHTOP IT!
- Ahem. So, anyway, back at the blog...
- I have wonderful friends and have just discovered one of them reads this blog, so I'm going to be nice about him
- He's lovely and clever and wonderful and reads this blog!!!
- And my other mate's not so bad either
- Though his kitchen is crap
- Do they not cook in Holland?!?
- I have an obsession with washing up even if it isn't my washing up. Any washing up will do. Anyone got any washing up that needs doing?
- Amsterdam is a very strange place and I'm not sure what to make of the slightly overweight women baring all in skimpy leather in their windows, presumably to attract passing trade.
- Amsterdam is also cold, but very pretty
- Anne Frank's house is well worth a visit but is inordinately depressing. (I was expecting this...)
- My tendancy towards unprovoked paranoia and anxiety is unaffected by foreign climes and arctic temperatures. I didn't check to find out if it would be exacebated by the legal highs Amsterdam's "coffee shops" have to offer
- Because I'm old and boring
- I have a mixture of Dire Straits and Abba running through my head...
- ...which is an odd combination... and rather irritating...
- I am very lucky to have some lovely friends who make me laugh and feel cosy and warm and are eminently huggable. I had an ultimately fabulous weekend with 3 of my most favourite people
- I'm going to stop typing lest my reputation for cynicism and misery ends up in tatters

Tomorrow is another day.