The Lasses - Where An Impromptu Night Out Became Great.

When you, like me, average 25 concerts a year (not counting the festivals), it's easy to become a little jaded, a tad blasé. But once in a while I am pleasantly surprised.
Our annual Hellevoetsluis Celtic Festival has introduced me to gems like Sarah McQuaid and Albert Niland in the past, and this year it was the duo The Lasses.

The Lasses are Sophie Ter Schure and Margot Limburg, and they are down-to-earth in looks and approach, not an eyelash out of place whilst joining another singer on stage just for the hell of it, whilst waiting for their own performance. This "Oh, hey, let's sing along with this tune, as we know it anyway" whetted my appetite for their own set, for they out-sang their hostess..., so I hurried along to the secondary, tiny, stage where they were to sing their own list of traditional and original celtic songs.
They were to play three 30 minute sets and were quick to inform us they wouldn't be doing any doubling, good for them. And straight off, with their rendering of Bill Monroe's The One I Love Is Gone I was totally hooked.

Talk about voices blending gorgeously, made for each other. The guy who brought these two women together deserves a statue in front of the Amsterdam Irish Pub (Mulligans !) where they have regular music nights as far as I'm concerned.

So far they have produced two CDs: the first, simply called "The Lasses", with 11 tunes, ranging from the sweet traditional Next Market Day to the iconic Dougie McLean Caledonia to the wonderful Hole in the Heart by Karine Polwart (my favorite from this CD).

The second is called "Daughters" and it is a bit more elaborate, carrying 13 songs. And it is super. My favorite is Hush Hush (Jim McLean), a poignant lullaby remembering the forced emigration from the Scottish Highlands, where you can almost hear the sheep bleat and see the sad farewell on the people's faces. But I also love Stretched on Your Grave (Frank O'Connor and Philip King) with guest singer Victor Lacken, whose voice again blends in beautifully.

Obviously I will provide a link for your perusal:The Lasses with Cobbler's Daughter
(from their second album)

The Lasses with The One I Love Is Gone

Typical loud pub audience... sorry about that. But you'll get the gist.

Did I say too much? Nooooooo...did not, did not.
You can find The Lasses for yourself on www.thelasses.wordpress.com 
or 
mailthelasses@gmail.com
and...they are currently in The USA, I believe...

Spring Has Sprung in Nieuw-Helvoet.

Good morning you all, everywhere.
The predominant Spring colour around my house is yellow - but that's hard to see, so off-yellowish it is for my script...

Isn't it wonderful that the long, wet winter has almost passed? Today is the Spring Equinox, and our days are getting longer and the nights shorter and personally I cannot wait for those long evenings in the garden, wrapped up in a thick blanket (this is The Wetlands after all) as near to the fire pot as I can get without catching fire. The good thing about our Wetlands spring weather is that it keeps your beer/white wine nice and cool.

My new garden is a bit basic, but it does have some nice nettles... 
Last week I cut down the shrubs which needed cutting back, and I now have a neat pile of branches I need to get rid of. I tried to burn them, but they are too green to burn and my neighbours somehow didn't take to the smoke they produced... I'll have cut them in small pieces and give them to our garbage truck to take away, as this garden doesn't have room for a compost heap.

Do you know something, my cat Viggo has made friends with quite a few of the other cats in my street, and now wants to spend his nights out on the pavement, chilling with his mates. He has almost lost all the weight he put on whilst in confinement when we just moved house, and is very content.
I swear that every house in this street has at least one cat and most of them has at least one dog as well, and they all grin at me when I walk past with both my old dog Gina and cat Viggo in tow, except for one grumpy terrier who always needs to bark at us and makes me jump, as he hides behing the bushes and then runs out barking like the mad little dog he is.

All in all we are very happy here in our new part of town.
Hope this Sunday finds you happy as well.

Viggo's Blog: Yeah...Right!

Hiya fans, Viggo here.
How are you all this morning, feeling good and feisty?

As you can see, I am taking it easy after an eventful morning. Want to know what happened to me?
Well, first of all, it snowed! I was just waking up in my customary spot on the just heating up radiator in my woman's bedroom (it starts heating up at 6.30) when I spotted that white stuff falling from the sky. Obviously I woke her up, so that she could check it out as well.

Then, three paint-splattered men walked into my house, and walked out again (nothing doing, apparently), but who sneaked in as well? That red and white tom from down the block! He raced straight up to the attic, and my woman raced after him calling that he had no business in our house, and that he should get out, etcetera.

Within a minute she came down the stairs again with him hanging most unbecomingly from her arm. She has this trick of picking us up under our bellies, you see (hate it, hate it!), with her hand towards your face, and you cannot do anything, your muscles simply disobey you, your paws are hanging down on four sides of her arm and that's IT.
I once heard her explain this move: she told my young woman that she has picked up this trick from one of her very first cats, a black mother of six, who had the habit of carrying her young in her mouth all through the house apparently, and they just hung there, so she thought to try that herself. Well, why she doesn't try it in her mouth is beyond me (she has one), but anyway, it is so humiliating to just hang there as a grown cat!

And while we are on the subject of humiliation: I have spotted The White Goddess touching noses with that black bruiser from around the corner. What does he have that I do not?
My woman saw as well, and said not to fret, that he lived here first, and not to give up.
Yeah...Right!

Oh, btw, just to tell you that I heard my woman mumbling just now that apparently Google+ has done something to her account and that she can't get to her communities anymore? Didn't know she was in any other communities - I AM her community!

The Hike - 5

And here we are: I promised you a new installment on my prep towards a hiking holiday in the North of England, but I went a totally different way...Not to Goeree-Overflakkee, the next island over from my home, but down South to Dordrecht, a historic riverside harbour town of fame and ill repute both.

There's a famous Dutch saying: "Hoe dichter bij Dordt, hoe rotter 't wordt" (the closer you get to Dordrecht, the worse it gets)
To get to Dordrecht on the river Merwede, you can obviously take the crowded and slow-traffic plagued motorway, but a much better and enormously more fun manner is to drive to Rotterdam, park your car (which I do in the free parking outskirts and then take the tube in order to be able to eat for the rest of the month!), and hop on the ferry to Dordrecht right below the gorgeous bridge crossing the river Maas connecting the South to the North of Rotterdam.

See the ferry? It's called the Aqualiner and it will cost you approx. €9,00 and an hour to get to Dordrecht. No toilets or drinks on board; it's the equivalent of a town bus, but you are allowed to take your bike, moped, dog or skateboard and believe me, many people do.

It makes a few stops on the way, and at the first one in Krimpen a/d Lek we were met with this biblical view:

I wonder what Old Noah would have to say about this massive version of the ark. It actually sails as well. Crikey!

After an hour we were unloaded on the historical quay of Dordrecht, and the town has provided those handy signposts leading you to the town centre and even showing you a roundtrip walk taking in all the cobbled old streets and historical buildings.

Now, what about that rather nasty saying then?

We wondered if it was about the Dordrecht folk (who looked perfectly friendly to us), or about the water quality, or about politics.

After all, this is the town where the famous, but lynched by the mob, brothers/politicians De Witt came from.

I'm certain wonderful free Wikipedia won't mind me quoting it: 

Johan de Witt or Jan de Witt, heer van Zuid- en Noord-Linschoten, Snelrewaard, Hekendorp and IJsselveere^[3] (24 September 1625 – 20 August 1672) was a key figure in Dutch politics in the mid-17th century, when its flourishing sea trade in a period of globalization made the United Provinces a leading European power during the Dutch Golden Age. De Witt controlled the Netherlands political system from around 1650 until shortly before his death in 1672 working with various factions from nearly all the major cities, especially his hometown, Dordrecht, and the city of birth of his wife, Amsterdam. As a republican he opposed the House of Orange and, along with his brother Cornelis de Witt, was murdered by Orangists.

"Was murdered by" is putting it mildly...They were butchered - alive, their organs removed whilst still breathing, it is said.

It is also documented they were brilliant politicians, and I've often wondered what would have happened with the decline of the Golden Age had they not been lynched...

But the saying turns out to be about..soil conditions. Dordrecht is built on peat. And we all know the only thing peat is good for...

Dordrecht nowadays is known for its antiques shops and Christmas Fair. It took us all day to cross its ancient cobbles, and we were not sorry.

When the ferry had taken us back to Rotterdam, we chose to have dinner in one of my favorite spots: the Fenix Loods.

I have told you about this old warehouse filled with independent biological restaurants on Katendrecht island before, but I'll take every opportunity to tell you again. If you visit Rotterdam, GO THERE!

You'll find it opposite Hotel New York on the Kop van Zuid, and you only have to cross the pedestrian bridge to get there.

Oh, alright, the view:

This is as "Rotterdam-Harbour" as it gets!

Okay: down to the technical stuff.

It took me 18.536 steps, but it took my friend with her longer legs  more than 24.000, so whose iPhone was right, we wonder? Never mind, we had a great day, with hardly any rain and 5 degrees C.

Join me on my next hike?

Viggo's Blog - Meet The White Goddess!

Hi fans, Viggo here.
Hardly recovered from my nightly banishment to our garden, I've had to adjust to my woman being actually upbeat and happy again...
My oh my, what a challenge!

The reason for all this silly sunshine in our lives is that she has finally found herself a 5 men proper band to sing with. (They're ancient and play ancient rock music from the Sixties and Seventies, with the occasional new cover thrown in - ieeeeeeeeeuw!) She says, and I quote: "It's SUCH FUN, Viggo!"

Fun?
Watching that gorgeous white hussy from around the corner, now that's what I call fun!

See that? Isn't she wonderful?
I tried my utmost to impress her yesterday afternoon, showing my best muscles and such.

Gina being present made it a bit of a non-event, as Gina smells to high heaven - dog breath, yuck! But the white goddess watched my workout from behind the bushes and didn't twitch a whisker, which I took as a very good sign.
Just as I ambled over to her, Gina decided to get up, and my shimmering white beauty made a dash and hid under the nearest car.
I have been keeping an eye out for her ever since, but so far she hasn't shown herself.

Someone who did show up was that black monster from the corner. He is huge, but very laid back. When I accompany Gina and my woman on the last walkies of the evening this black guy is usually outside as well, and we have touched noses a couple of times - no sweat. He sucks up to my woman though, rubbing his ugly head on her leg, and making purring noises, I must say that goes a bit too far. So I've warned him to keep his distance from her. I hope he remembers. He is quite large...Huge, in fact. Perhaps just a couple of rubs won't do any harm...hmmm....

The Hike - 4

Our national emblem should be the willow - not that silly lion...as if we have lions roaming our lands.
On my fourth hike towards The Hike in Northumberland, I passed many, many willows, by far the most common tree in my area. But this one, an ash, caught my eye, as it is symbolic for my wetlands delta, valiantly hanging on even when knee-deep in water.

Today was a perfect day for hiking: wind wsw 18 km/hr,2 degrees C, humidity 83%,the occasional hail shower, but mostly sunny. Well, not counting the dramatic clouds.

I set off from home and decided to get the polder stretch out of the way first, ending along the Haringvliet water with the wind at my back (see photo above).

Walking through the polder has a dynamic of its own. It's mostly battling with the wind and hoping you won't get crashed into from behind, as most polder dwellers drive like maniacs and expect you to jump into the verge.

This is typically wetlands scenery. A sloot, a straight stretch of narrow road and an endless sky.



From this distance you can really see how our local church tower and ship are divided.

Although it hailed occasionally, the bulbs along the road showed that Spring is definitely on its way! I'm a sucker for spring bulbs,  they give such a feeling of hope, that sure, sunshine will be part of our days again.

Whilst I am typing this it is hailing most fiercely, so I took my walk at the right time!
Along the way, on the Westdijk, I passed this vegetable plot, artistically draped along the dyke.

Due to the mild winter there were quite a few cabbages and sprouts still looking good.
After the Westdijk I passed from polder into dune landscape, as I was nearing the Haringvliet, the sea arm that divides my island of Voorne from the next island of Goeree-Overflakkee. The soil turns from heavy,greasy clay straight to sand and the trees change accordingly from willows and such to thorny shrub, ash and birch.

This path leads you from the last tarmac road through the dunes to the Haringvliet.

Look at that. You have your mangroves in Florida, we have our solitary ash in the wetlands. This sea arm, due to its being cut off from the sea since the Seventies and being fed by three huge rivers is sweet water, but no one has told the shells, so they are saltwater shells still, mixed with some fresh water ones.

I used to scoff at this stretch of water, being spoiled by holidays abroad and the cold green blue waters near my first home in Hampshire (GB). But I've made my peace with the Haringvliet and quite like it nowadays.

This was the best part of the hike: up the dune and down the dune, with the gently lapping water always close by on my righthand side, the occasional gull overhead and thankfully no more hail.
It took me 2 hours to get home, and 28.640 steps. 
I'm already planning the next hike, which will probably take me over to the next island by bus and back on foot.
Join me?

The Hike - 3

Preparing myself for my hiking holiday in the North of England is proving more difficult than I thought. Our wet Wetlands weather, fickle as it normally is, has been challenging to say the least.
But last Sunday turned out dry, so I jumped into my hiking shoes and set off for a hike around my neighbourhood of Nieuw-Helvoet, before the floodgates would open once again.

This vibrant Viburnum greets me every day, on my daily walkie-with-my-doggie, and isn't it gorgeous? 
It is a good example of the many Viburnums which are lovingly dotted around this neighbourhood. People in Nieuw-Helvoet are proud of their front gardens, on the whole (always exceptions).

I set off from home and turned left, taking the old through-road from Nieuw-Helvoet to the naval port of Hellevoetsluis. Nieuw-Helvoet is contrary to its name actually quite old, dating from 1367,and has a beautifully preserved traditional ring of houses (also called 'Ring') around the old church. 
But archeologists have dug up remains of habitation from the Iron Age (800 BC), along with clear evidence that the land was flooded again and again, which made living around these parts a challenge to say the least!
Churches in my part of the country were more often than not built in two parts: the ship and the bell tower separately. 

You can see from the shape of the tower that it has a square, no-nonsense shape, and that money was short. Hence bricked-in "windows" where, in more affluent places, a leaded glass window would be.Life on my island of Voorne was hard.

As you perhaps can spot,the year 1820 is on the plaque of this traditional house in the Ring. Which makes it one of the newer houses, paradoxically.
This one, the Raadhuis (town hall), dates from 1760.

Nieuw-Helvoet has long since been integrated into the larger town of Hellevoetsluis, but it has retained its tiny-town atmosphere. Nieuw-Helvoet was here first, and used the mooring place they called Hellevoetsluys as their harbour on the sea arm called Haringvliet, separating my island of Voorne from the next island of Goeree-Overflakkee. It was only when the Dutch government decided to make Hellevoetsluys their major naval port, that the number of its inhabitants exceeded that of Nieuw-Helvoet.
(If you are into names: Haring = herring, vliet = river, hence "the river where you can fish for herring". Helle = difficult, voet = foot, sluys = lock, hence "the place where there is a lock from the sea arm Haringvliet to the difficult navigable river Hellevoet")

I've told you before that the graveyard is on my route, and this time I decided to enter it so I can show you a traditional Wetlands burial ground. It is still in use, but only people from this neighbourhood can be buried here. It has one official Common Wealth War Grave, a bit forgotten now, and on the whole is rather quiet...Most of the old families, with their family graves, have been lost in history.

But look what I found...Mathilde Bernardine Washington, born July 11th 1888, Died May 1st 1989, wife to corn merchant and sometime mill keeper Hermen Maasdam. This tickled my curiosity!Was this an American bride, that for some reason had ended up in my wetlands? So what do you do then? Right, you consult Mr. Google.
And you find out that Mathilde was the daughter of Wilhelmus Wassinghton (note the spelling!), born December 1829 in the Northern province of Friesland, and his marriage issued "7 children born without life from 1860-1869" - so my, old Wilhelmus must have been chuffed to get a living Mathilde in the end!But what caused the spelling of her name on this gravestone? Was it a mistake? Google couldn't answer this question.

I'll end with the Viburnum I started with, simply because I adore the way this homeowner lovingly trims his box.
My hike was a short one, only 5.913 steps, but the weather was great for a change and I enjoyed it. Hope you did too!
Join me next time?