Viggo's Blog: Life Without the Mutt.

Hiya fans, Viggo here!

Just an update on Life Post-Gina.
Would you know that I actually miss the old smelly mutt? And I miss our walkies late at night even more...Somehow strutting around the neighbourhood with your dog in tow is way more cool than just...walking.

My mates have adjusted to Bowie and me being dog-less. Big Black casually remarked that us not having our dog meant that some of the other toms a street away now thought that spraying the front door could be done...but that him and Mate had put a stop to that very fast. But Nose nastily said that Bowie should have less attitude, as Gina wasn't there to defend him. Nose should beware of his own attitude...Bowie is a young brat, but he's MY brat!

Apart from all that, it's all go over here in our household. My woman has taken the dog bed out of the living room and has put it out in the garden. She speaks of converting it into a raised vegetable bed, as it is a shame to scrap a nice piece of expensive wooden furniture.
Hm...I don't care for salad greens. And I wonder how she plans to keep the cats from pooping in it! Geez, I hope she isn't counting on me and Bowie to keep the other cats out of the back garden! That would make our spring and summer very stressful indeed.

Bowie has grown...a lot...He is now just as tall as myself, only slimmer. 
We get along most of the time.
But sometimes he gets these funny moods, he races around the room then and up and down the stairs, and he wants me to wrestle him. Hah! I win every time, I only have to lay down on top of him.
That can be a bit tiring.
Right, that's all. Not a lot of news I'm afraid. So I'll leave you with a pressing matter:

I bet you haven't. Good! I don't like being kissed. Bowie does, but he's weird. No, I like a nice, gentle stroking from my head down to my tail. Not too long, mind. I'll tell you when to stop by biting you, okay?
Have a nice Sunday, tar rah!

Happy 2017 to you! Any life-changing resolutions? Yup!

Good afternoon to you, where ever you are.
I hope this afternoon finds you well, and that you experience the same wintry sunshine that I am enjoying. Mind you, our habitual wetlands clouds are moving in - I have taken my ramble just in time!

So: let me tell you about my life-changing New Year's resolutions. There are two!

1st. 
I have stopped eating meat and poultry as from Dec. 25th.
Now, don't be disappointed! This is a HUGE thing for me, as I adore(d) poultry especially, but was partial to a nice bit of beef as well.
Why? Why now? Why this late in my life?

Well, I have been hesitating about it since July, because I experience a lot of stomach pains in the night and they keep me up. So naturally I looked at my diet first (before jumping to terrifying conclusions - these only assail me at night). And how do you act when you are a fully-fledged bookophile? You read up on it. 
Thus I banned wine, and this helped - some. Mind you, I happily switched to beer. I banned potatoes and bread for 6 months - this didn't make a blind bit of difference, so I've returned to eating them. I tried eating less meat and more veggies - no difference whatsoever. I tried eating only fruit in the morning - and got very grumpy about it, craving something more solid. I banned chocolate voor 99%. No difference.
A little further research said meat sours the stomach. And souring is just what I do not need. So...decisions decisions.

And then my old dog died from shock following intestinal bleeding on Dec. 22nd and I watched the vet give her his all by mouth-to-mouth and heart massage, to no avail. And that made me think. Why on earth go to these lengths trying to save a beloved smelly old mutt from Istanbul, and then slap a bloody slab of meat in the pan afterwards?
I ate the garlic chicken I had prepared for our Christmas meal, but it tasted strange to me, and that was it.

Sort-of-Veggie, I am now. My son-in-law was in shock (he exists on meat and beer) - but since I love him to bits, I promised him I will not be the meat police. He was very relieved.
My son and daughter-in-law applauded me; she's a vegan and has turned him into a vegetarian. My daughter was quietly in awe and supports me.
Plain sailing, eh?
I had my first meal out last night and was very pleasantly surprised by the goats cheese package with spinach, mushroom risotto and asparagus. Watched my son-in-law inhale his hamburger and didn't feel a snippet of regret!

2nd
I have stopped boozing-alone.
So what? (I heard you think that!)
But again, this is quite the decision for me. I do not have any other vices, you see. I have never smoked, I don't do drugs, I do not covet other people's husbands, I don't steal, I don't lie, I'm never late, I pay my taxes with a bleeding heart, in fact drinking alcohol is the only pastime I could try to call risky business. And I do love my beer and whisky.
But.
I noticed myself going from one beer on coming home from work, to two, to three. My waistline noticed as well...
In order to have at least some fun in my life, and because I am a musician and musicians drink beer, I allow myself to drink whilst being in the company of others. But I always have to drive, and our laws prohibit me from having more than 1 beer when driving. Sorted! 
Think of all the money I will save (hm?). I will put that towards a visit to the Chelsea Flower Show.

And there you are. Now, you either thought this boring; so sorry when you did. Or you liked it; good. Or you want to tell me about your resolutions; feel free.
I will share my veggie recipes on my collections page.
Oh.. and thank you for being here! You are now in the illustrious company of more than 53,000 people! They can't all be wrong.
To show my appreciation, I have a link for you to the latest YouTube upload of my music.
Garage Band Blues.

Urban Hike: Delft.

It being the Christmas holiday, I decided to take a ramble around the old town of Delft, this time taking along my daughter.
Daylight is scarce this time of year, so if the photos will look a bit gloomy to you, that cannot be helped, sorry.

We entered Delft through the Oosterpoort (Eastern Gate), having parked the car in a tiny street of the neighbourhood close by instead of in the expensive multilayer carpark. I took a risk there; fines are steep and being towed away is a possibility. But I asked Providence for a break, as I'd rather spend my money on a nice lunch than on the carpark. And Providence smiled on me, I'm happy to say.

I always like walking into a town through a gate! It feels special, you are now entering a magical place, where everything is possible. Yeah, I know, I'm sort of strange.

This gate is very well preserved.

Delft used to be a far more important town than close-by Rotterdam. Its first recorded history dates from the 11th century, and in 1400 it was the third largest town of the country, with 6.500 inhabitants. Delft is very much integrated into our history, it being the town where William of Orange (the 1st) was assassinated in 1584. And it is world-famous for two other things: the painter Vermeer and Delftware. 

When we walked along the canals towards the Grote Markt, we could hardly miss this fact, as we were inundated by both: numerous shops selling Delftware, numerous shops featuring the paintings by Vermeer.

Oh! Did I mention canals? I did, didn't I? Let me tell you, these are not as grand as the ones of Amsterdam, but they are certainly worth the visit! And actual real people live along them, instead of the houses all being turned into offices and ridiculously priced boutique hotels as well.

We came upon the alley leading to the Grote Markt, having to cross one of the typical bow bridges with white iron railings that you see everywhere in Delft. The heavy granite post in the middle of the road is a very effective way of keeping out cars, whilst cyclists can still pass. And they do! Be warned that being crashed into by a student or granny belting along is a very real possibility, you need eyes in the back of your head.

This building is town hall (built 1618), one of the three huge buildings circling the Grote Markt (the other two being churches). Due to the weather the square was almost deserted, but come spring the square is full of terraces and people. 

When alone, I would have gone into the Nieuwe Kerk, with the pompous grave of William of Orange, but my daughter is more of the shopping persuasion.

Dark, isn't it? It was 11.30 am! I am used to it, but sometimes it gets me down, and I know my fellow countrymen suffer from the same sentiment.

Still, it has inspired many of our painters to specialize in painting our ever changing gloomy skies.

This particular sky was photographed near my home by my photographer son Wibe. He has his own website: www.wibekoopman.com

We had to warm up by this time, having walked for 45 minutes, so we took ourselves to the Coffee Company on the corner and had a wonderful espresso and carrot cake. I was interested to see what was on in Delft. It is a university town (TU Delft - Technical University), so there's always a lot to do and see.

Does something strike you about those posters? Look at the language? Right, you've spotted it! Dutch is being inundated with English words, and not slowly either! Contrary to the Belgians and French we do not have language police trying to make us speak our own lingo. So we eagerly convert to using English (badly - ouch! My TEFL ears smart a lot of the time). Quite interesting though, I think. Why does a nation fall over its own feet to use another language? My pupils are a good example: they shout OMG and wtf...instead of good old godsamme and krijg nou wat. A shame, really, language is what defines a people. 

This is on the corner of the Vismarkt (Fish market), where fish is still being sold in the very old fishmongers on the left hand side of the photo. You can just about spot another of those white iron bridge railings there, too, and another in the middle distance. I tell you, those canals are wonderful.

What you cannot get around when visiting old Delft, obviously, is Delftware. I happen to like it. But then I like Makkum ware, and Portugese and Spanish and Moroccan ware as well. I simply like pottery, full stop. Delftware was introduced to the town by immigrated Italian potters, by he way.

Aren't they gorgeous? Pricey, though!

We ambled along the canals, going into the little shops, and peering into the many restaurants. Bookshops galore, heaven! And vinyl record shops, heaven again! And original fashion. And not too expensive, as the many students of Delft structurally are on a tight budget.

After a few hours we were in desperate need of a toilet and a beer (in that order), and landed in one of the many bruine café's (brown bar), called thus because the interior is entirely made of weathered (thus turned brown) wood. This one had four special seasonal beers on tap, of which I tried this one.

It is called Gauloise, and yes, it was a French beer. Very nice! Unfortunately I could only try the one, as I had to drive home.

With this view, it was a very good way to end a very nice day in Delft. We've determined to return when the weather is warm enough to sit outside (when we're lucky in April, but typically not before June).

The nitty-gritty:

* Delft can be reached by car using the A4 or A13, or by train. Parking is a problem!! Nearest airport is Rotterdam-The Hague Airport; 15 minutes drive by car.

* AirBnB is populair, but beware, Dutch government is trying to put a halt to it due to many complaints from the regular inhabitants of our historic inner cities.

* It has an historic inner town, which you can "do" in a day if you skip the nice museums. I would spend two days there.

* There is enough to do and see during October-March, but I would go there in April-September, when you can sit outside on the many nice terraces and you have at least a fair chance of seeing a blue sky.

* It being very near Rotterdam and The Hague, make it a three-day deal!

* Wibe's photography website (he specializes in both weddings and documentaries)

Viggo's Blog - My dog has died.

Hiyah fans, Viggo here.

Today I have a sad blog to write for you.
Remember I told you that I may be King of the house, but that there was a dog there before me who thought she was Queen?
Her name was Gina, and if you want to know more about her history as an adopted stray from Istanbul, search the posts using her name. My woman has blogged a few times about her.

Anyway,Gina had been ailing for years, suffering from arthritis, but she was puttering along since we moved to my present home; she seemed to like it there and had some sort of renewed lust for life (not a little helped by the daily heavy dose of painkillers she got along with her morning nibbles. Bowie once ate her medicine, well...But that's another story)

Last Wednesday my woman got a panicky phone call from the young woman, that Gina had vomited all over her bed. As my woman was singing with her band at that time, she told young woman to clean it up (duh!), and that Gina must have eaten a bellyful of grass again. She used to do that from time to time, silly mutt.
I was worried though! That vomit smelled funny I tell you.

So, by the time my woman came home, Gina seemed fine, she was asleep. So we all had a nice beer, since the young man was there as well with his girlfriend, and the young man from my young woman as well. Quite the jolly party we had! Bowie and I joined in, as usual. Bowie tried to have a beer as well; I just focussed on the snacks.
Until, at almost precisely 1 am, Gina suddenly shot from her bed (quite a feat in itself, as she moved with difficulty) and pooped all over the parquet.It had a horrible smell! So they all shouted and made funny faces, and then had to clean up the mess.I chose to watch from a distance.

By that time the young man who dates the young woman admitted that he had seen Gina eat something in the bushes when he walked her that afternoon, but that he couldn't make out what it had been, as by the time he reached her she had ate it all.
So, my woman said that she hoped Gina had got it all out of her system now, and they all went to bed.

In the night, Gina woke me up by moaning, and I went to investigate. She really did smell weird! She again got up, and pooped all over the floor, in seven places in all, and by the time she had finished I got in a right state, as I could smell blood. I went up to the puddles and took a good sniff, and then decided to go wake up my woman. It was 5 am and she came down immediately (remembering that last time us cats had woken her up and the fish tank had emptied all over the floor), and when she turned on the light I saw her turn all funny and white, and she said "Oh Viggo, that's blood! It's blood!" and she ran to get her phone and phoned the night vet for advice.
He told her that she should go see her own vet straight away when his practice opened, so she woke up my young woman's lover (he's better in a crisis) and together they rolled Gina in a blanket and drove her to the vet.

There they put Gina on a stretcher and called the vet to hurry and get there, but just as he did, Gina's heart stopped.
My woman told me later that the vet had done mouth-to-mouth, and how special she thought this as she never realized that vets did that kind of stuff. Together with heart massage he got Gina's heart working again, but she was very frail, and just when they had managed to get a drip into her the heart stopped again. They gave her adrenaline and got it going yet again, but things looked pretty dire. 
So they conferred, and decided that if and when her heart stopped again, they would let her go. 

And that's what's happened.

Viggo's Blog - Humbug!

Hiya fans, Viggo here.

One picture paints a thousand words, doesn't it?
See those fangs?
They are the bane of my life at the moment. One minute I am quietly snoozing in my favorite spot on the settee, and the next this white little monster jumps in my neck and sinks those teeth into my fur.
He hasn't grown an awful lot, so I can still win our tousles by sheer weight alone, but effing Frith, is he exhausting or what?!

Mind you, my fangs are in fine nick too, don't you think?
The vet has told my woman I should have dental work done, though. She's put this forward to 2017, as she can't have both hers and mine done at the same time. Her teeth are in far worse shape, she needs a new crown put on. So she's told me I'll have to wait a few months. Phaw! I don't mind that one bit. The vet used words like "removing the tartar" - well, as far as I'm concerned tartare is a nice sort of ground meat my woman sometimes prepares.

Apart from that, I want to leave you with a Christmassy quote which might teach you a lesson. I bet you are in need of one.

The problem is not the problem.

The problem is your attitude to the problem,

that's the problem.

Profound, eh?

Until next time, tar rah! Oh, and if I don't speak to you before Christmas, have yourselves a merry one.

Sorry - I was So Terribly Busy-Busy!

Good morning You, everywhere,

So sorry not to have posted anything for weeks!
I have been awfully busy at both work and my home. Not having a lot of money means knitting wooly hats for Christmas presents and making my own decorations and doing the cooking for pre-Christmas parties from scratch instead of going to the delicatessens, and sewing my own party frock.
Fun as this all is (and it was!), it it also extremely time-consuming. Coupled to the pre-holiday panic at school (know that? You only know that when you actually know that...) in both pupils and colleagues, I haven't had the time to upload anything to Blogger.

There you are.
This must be the longest introduction I have written so far.

So, how have you been? I bet you have been awaiting my next post with baited breath!
Yeah, sure.

Well. My Christmas tree is standing in pride of place. And young Bowie has ignored it so far, I'm very pleased to be able to tell you!

He is such a bundle of joy! I know Viggo doesn't quite agree, but to me adopting this cat has been the most positive action of 2016.

What has been yours, I wonder?

We all adore him. This is my Mum, by the way. She will be 89 next month, and she's very frail. A constant worry, in fact, as she is not-so-slowly becoming more and more muddled. This week she locked herself out (she's done that before), but the worry was in the fact that this time she couldn't remember my name nor where I work. So the neighbours had to call out the locksmith.
So...immediate action was to order a name tag  with my name and cellphone for her to keep with her and to leave my name and number with the neighbours. Quite a thing, in a well-to-do flat where everyone keeps to themselves.

I have had the medical centre do an Alzheimer's test on her, and their conclusion (after 30 questions out of which she answered 27 correct - yes, she still knows her own name, thank you very much! And she also knows where she lives, what year it is, etcetera) was that she is "too good" to get help. With only one child (middle-aged me) who works to feed and house  two of her own (my kids), the help thus is whatever I can provide.
Well-meaning people who hear about this, all say the same thing: oh my, you cannot leave her on her own anymore! No...so, what should I do, take her to work with me? All those well-meaning people don't offer to go see her, mind.

Sorry. Didn't mean to bug you.
So. Instead of offering you my woes, I'll promise to upload a new book review very soon. And I know Viggo also cannot wait to upload one of his monologues.

One more week to go until the holidays. Can't wait!

Mum has finally grasped the concept of a 'selfie', isn't that sweet? This was at the Christmas market yesterday.

Viggo's Blog: A Streetcat named Bob - A Review

Hiyah fans, Viggo here.

Today I want to tell you about the book my woman has read to me over the last couple of days.
Being of the catty persuasion, I'm always interested in art about cats, obviously. Couldn't care a fig about other animals.

Right, this book, listen up.
It is called A Streetcat named Bob and it has been written by James Bowen - or rather it has been written by this other guy called Garry Jenkins, and he did a pretty good job pretending he was James Bowen.
Are you still following me, or did you dive too deep into the catnip last night?

Anyway, it is about a red cat in London, who hooks up with a down-and-out junkie (old Jaimy). Garry/James seemed to think this was very very special, where in fact we all know that us cats have far more sense that you humans anyway and we pick and choose among you. You think you chose your cat, do you? Phah! Dream on, my friend.

Bob and James form a bond, and Bob quickly realizes he's onto a very good thing when lonely James starts to coddle and cuddle him, and spends a substantial amount of his benefits on cat food and the vet. He even walks down five flights of stairs to let Bob do his business several times a day!
I can relate, I hate that litter tray as well, especially now that Bowie uses it all the time. Boy, does that shit stink!

James falls in love with Bob, and Bob lets him. In return for food, shelter and a nice warm spot in front of the central heating he starts accompanying James to the streets of London, where he is busking. He even susses out that lying along James's shoulders as some sort of cat rug, makes people donate more. And he protects James, who clearly is a sad specimen, by sitting in front of him and keeping mad dogs away.

My woman and I had an argument at this stage. She claims that I should try to empathize more, as James has had a rough time of it and being a heroin junkie is no picknick. And wasn't it a wonderful thing that Bob was the catalyst that helped James pick up his life, get off the methadon, start selling The Big Issue, get a publishing deal and now a movie deal as well and probably has a chance of leading a better, more healthy and fulfilling life?

Well...yeah. Ish. 
What bothers me is that Bob, being a cat, surely has nine lives, but is clearly living his ninth incarnation and what will James do when Bob snuffs it? Hm?
At that stage she got all huffy and told me 'probably what I will do when you snuff it - get another cat' and relations were a bit strained after that for a while.

Did I mention that I bit her in the lip? I must admit I did feel a tiny frisson of guilt when I saw her sitting there all shocked and sad with a bloodstained tissue pressed against her mouth.
But she didn't have to call the doctor for a tetanus shot (she said she probably would have to), so she clearly overreacted.

Should you read this book?
Only if you adore cats.
Tarrah!