I’ve always found that the best way to prepare for an essay is to write a whole load of nonsense about anything under the sun. I often recycle stories from this blog when in need of something to write. It’s as easy as, scroll, summarise, submit. (See, alliteration helps too, especially in first additional language exams, where three figures of speech, especially idioms and the like, force the marker to mark you one level higher than they would have otherwise marked you.) Results have been pleasing so far. I especially love making use of strange, oftentimes archaic words just to piss the marker off and make them open up a dictionary. I’m feeling like some Latin or French today.
“Why can’t I write my paper in Dutch?” I ask myself, chewing my pen. English is little more than Dutch spoken by Romans pretending to be French. I can get away with the clichéd Latin “veni, vidi, vici” and an “ergo” or two, but what if I bring back ash, i.e. that cool “Æ” that nobody really uses unless they’re trying to be quaint or think that they are wizards? I’d make a good wizard though; it’s believed that my surname originated from a man burnt at the stake for wizardry, or, just very good chemistry. It was about a thousand years ago in lower Saxony, so chemistry and wizardry were likely seen as the same thing.
In the same vain, how vague of a watch connection do I have to make so that this post isn’t entirely irrelevant? Some weeks ago Rolex left South Africa, which is unfortunate, as I would have loved a Milgauss. Ag, why bother, vintage Rolex is better than modern Rolex and, frankly, I’ve changed my mind and would much rather have an Oysterquartz Datejust. Duality of man? No, just an oaf who can’t decide which watches he probably won’t buy.
Surprisingly, there is very little to write about today. I can continue with the whole Dutch and English thing for a bit, but once my admittedly few and frankly unfunny Dutch jokes run out, I’ll be in a tight spot… a tight spot like the place a banana is shoved in that one club in Amsterdam. I honestly want to visit the Netherlands. The Benelux and German folks are a large part of my ancestry, with French, Welsh and Irish being the rest, so it’ll be like returning home after just about half a millennia. What I’d do in the Netherlands is go clubbing with clogs on. I hear they’re comfortable, perfect for spending extended periods of time standing up as you pass joints. I love the Dutch, not just the Dutch from four hundred years ago that led to my birth in this African Hellscape, but also the Dutch from the present day. I love freedom and sometimes it’s nice to remember that there are places in the world where you can hook up with girls dressed in kleredracht while smoking a ginormous blunt.
Okay, well, this post has descended into a travel guide to a country I have never been to. There is a Dutch cheese farm that I visited twice in my life, Van Gaalen Kaasmakerij, about an hour and a half from where I live. I’m surprised I haven’t been there more frequently, because I love cheese. If it wasn’t for cheese, I would have gone down a far darker path. Inside this cheese farm is a little curio shop, where you can buy all sorts of souvenirs and Dutch twaddle, even though you haven’t left the country. I am a lover of Venco liquorice, which is thankfully available at my local supermarket. It’s costly as a result of duties, but it doesn’t stop me. What I love more than that is this Dutch mayonnaise that comes in a toothpaste-tube-esque container.
By the Heavens, this mayonnaise is so good you don’t need anything to eat it with. The last time I had some, which was five years ago now, I simply squirted it into my mouth, which is a frankly disturbing image now that I think of it. I would give up finding true love for three tubes of it. Dearest reader, do yourself a favour and buy a tube or twenty and try it for yourself. I have never lied in my life, so rest assured it will be good, maybe not as good as I make it out to be, but give me a break, it’s been five years and I’m experiencing heavy withdrawal symptoms.
There is a patch of forest behind the farm which you can hike through. It takes a long time, but it’s worth it. The scenery is lovely, with a little creek if I remember correctly. I would have loved to hike that trail with a girlfriend, but recent events see me a single sailor again, so that’s out of the question. My only semblance of hope in this dark hour of heartbreak, academic and life pressures and lack of sleep is Dutch mayonnaise, nay, the mere hope of one day tasting Dutch mayonnaise again. Zaanse mayonnaise tastes better than the lips of the love of one’s life.
The Escapement Room 