Brentusfirmus

Brent's blog is moving - new RSS feed

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 17:07:00 +0000

Hey everyone! Big news - I'm moving my blog to wordpress.com, because it's so much funkier than Blogger. The www.brentusfirmus.com/blog address will redirect to the new one at wordpress (www.brentusfirmus.wordpress.com), so no need to change anything there. But the RSS feed is different, so just in case you had subscribed to it, you'll need to adjust that in your Bloglines/Google Readers. The new one is:

http://brentusfirmus.wordpress.com/feed/

Or at least, you can go there to re-subscribe.

That's all for today - see you at wordpress!

Saturday

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Sat, 12 Apr 2008 21:39:00 +0000

I love Saturdays free (i.e. no singing), I get so many fun things done and just float on through the day, no pressure, no deadlines. Today I finished two more knitted spheres, so now I have the three primary colours. Here's a perfectly awful tungsten photo of them:
I'll take better photos of them tomorrow in more natural light, and put them on Ravelry. I knit these while at Jantine's house, where I spent the afternoon keeping her company while she's ill. Her husband Mick cooked us a loverly chicken tikka masala for dinner, and then we ate Tim Tams and watched the New Doctor Who. I can't believe I'm saying this, but my memories of the old Doctor Who were much actually much more believable than the episode I saw tonight, despite the bad 80's special effects and Daleks and all. But I'm willing to suspend judgment until I've seen a few more episodes.
I also have another bone to pick about Holland. Today I bought a new strippenkaart, or "strip card" for the bus. It's a long cardboard card you buy that has 45 strips on it, and each bus journey you take requires a certain number of strips, so the driver just keeps stamping the card on the appropriate places until you have used up all 45, then it's time for a new one. Here's what it looks like:
As you can see it's pretty long, so you usually fold it twice in two to fit it in your wallet. The card is scored between each strip, supposedly to make it easy to fold. But look at what happens when you try to fold it in half:See? The required fold falls precisely in the middle of strip 13, meaning that the folds provided between the strips are totally useless. So the ends of the card when folded never precisely match up, and you end up with this messy-looking misshapen blob of cardboard in your wallet. I'm sorry, but that is so not me.
Off to church tomorrow, I hope we're singing something nice and old. Gooooo, Tallis!

Random Quote:

"Life is in the details."
-Saffy, from Absolutely Fabulous

Perfect sphere

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 16:16:00 +0000

I had a very productive day today. I hung up the new curtains that anita had made for me:

And I knitted a perfect sphere:

And now I'm off to Natasja's for dinner. She wanted to cook for me, since it's such nice weather. Go spring!

Random quote:

"Conductors must give unmistakable and suggestive signals to the orchestra - not choreography to the audience."
- George Szell

Homeowners

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 16:54:00 +0000

I was revising a press resease at work today, which said that the Dutch city of The Hague has around 20,000 homeowners' associations.

I mean, WTF?

Do these people like to have meetings and create paperwork just for fun? I vocalised about this fact at the office, and B. assured me that it's not that bad, that a Dutch "Homeowners' Association" is roughly equivalent to a body corporate. And since there are very few free-standing houses in large Dutch cities, that means that every row of town houses effectively consitutes its own homeowners' association.
Fair enough, I thought. But the press release (which was for the Dutch Ministry of Housing, Spatial Planning and the Environment (VROM)) talked about the government wanting to help these associations with courses, education and establishing membership fees, in order to help maintain the standard of available private housing in the Netherlands. So the government wants to busy itself with how private homeowners look after their homes.

Again, WTF?

This is private property we're talking about. These people own their homes. Shouldn't they be free to decide for themselves how they take care of them? I'm sure they paid enough for the house in the first place.

In an over-populated country that's half underwater, with an enormous housing shortage and around 500km of traffic jams every day, you'd think they might have something better to do.

Oh wait: I'm just watching the news, and someone is demanding that there be laws put in place regarding the transport of dogs in cars. Did I mention people take their dogs to restaurants in this country? Oh, and they've just found a hundren flea-ridden guinea pigs in someone's attic. Looks like the important issues are already being taken care of!

Snub Disphenoid

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 19:33:00 +0000

Yesterday at work I made a snub disphenoid out of ball-bearings and magnetic sticks. Here it is:
The snub disphenoid is one of the 92 Johnson solids, which is a group of polyhedra whose faces are all regular polygons (equilateral triangles, squares, pentagons, hexagons etc.), but that aren't Platonic or Archimedean solids, prisms or antiprisms. Most of them are constructed by "cutting and pasting" bits of other more regular polyhedra together, but not this guy. He's an elementary Johnson solid. He's an individual. You can't fool him.

I think he's cool.

Random quote of the day:

"I love my job, I love my job, I love my job..."
Emily, from The Devil Wears Prada

Physalis

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 22:12:00 +0000

During my weekend at Maria Pia's, she introduced me to the wonders of the physalis. No, it's not a venereal disease. It's a species of plant bearing a small orange berry encased in a papery husk. Wikipedia says that in English, the fruits are called groundcherries. Whatever they are, they taste delicious! In your mouth it feels like biting into a cherry tomato, but not as juicy and slightly denser, and it tastes like a tangerine. Here are some action shots.
First, the fruits with the husks still on:

Then you peel back the husk to reveal the fruit's orangey goodness:

Whoops! Gone!

Nummy nummy num!

Random quote of the day:

"As sugar dissolves, it spreads happiness."
- Finnair sugar sachet

Beethoven

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 16:41:00 +0000

Something happened on the train yesterday on the way back from Heidelberg. After knitting for a while, I thought I might like some music, so I took out my iRiver and put on the good-old Bach concerto for oboe and violin. But I found after a short while I was actually in the mood for something else, maybe a Mozart flute concerto? I put on the one in D, but that didn't do it for me either. I hadn't heard any Beethoven for a while, and was thinking of introducing Lisa to Sonata form soon during one of our sessions, and so I put on the string quartet Opus 18 no. 6 in B-flat, as it has a very clear-cut sonata form. Unfortunately it's also quite dull, so I began browsing through the rest of the Beethoven folder, and came across a piece I hadn't heard in a long time - the piano trio Op. 70 no. 2 in E-flat major.

It's quite a mature piece: the first three movements are rather serious and generally quite mellow. The first movement's hesitant, pensive contrapuntal introduction gives way to a strident but elegant first theme, and the two movements that follow maintain a steady pace, both versions of a restrained allegretto. The first of this pair alternates in mood between the slightly coquettish opening theme in the major and a rather bombastic, menacing episode in the minor, with which the movement ultimately ends. The third movement is like an invitation to the dance, where a rippling alberti bass on the piano guides interlocking ribbons of melody from the other instruments along their way. But the last movement...

After the restraint and elegance of the first three movements, the last one breaks free in a way that is difficult to describe. It's confidence and rapture and joy and dignity and excitement and pride and ecstasy all at once. Not a single dull moment - here it speeds past on rushing semiquavers, now reposing briefly with undulating glimpses of the minor mode, only to barge foward again on insistent, repeating chords, gathering momentum like a snowball or a runaway minecart. Yesterday in the train I was totally absorbed, and then I saw it coming: the repeat of the second theme in the recapitulation. I knew what was going to happen. After a build up of power scales on the piano and double-stops on the strings, the violin would soar high up onto the E-string, screaming with delight and passion, performing wide leaps, scales and double stops, eventually landing with full force (and the rest of the ensemble) on a high B-flat, which would ring out for what seems like an eternity, a cry echoed by the piano and cello. The harmony would then remain unresolved for another 6 bars or so, being stretched out to the absolute limit. When I heard all of this happen, I did the only thing I could.

I cried.

Usually I don't have emotional responses to music. I'm always hesitant to use the word emotion in connection with it, as I believe that music (or functional harmony anyway) is just an abstract formal system with rules and conventions, and only has meaning in terms of itself. I find it extremely fascinating and, in the hands of a first-rate composer, spellbindingly beautiful, but in the same way that I find an elegant proof of a mathematical formula beautiful, or the proportions of a fine piece of architecture. So yesterday, when I found myself completely overwhelmed, with physical sobbing and tears running down my face, I wondered what was going on.

If I had to explain it myself, I wouldn't say that my response was emotional, as I couldn't identify any particular emotion connected to my reaction. There was no story in my head, no associations of any kind. I could only say that I felt overwhelmed, swept away by Beethoven's genius in delaying the resolution, suspending the climax. As Sondheim would say, it was 'unbearable bliss'.

Beethoven must have been having a good day that day.

Heidelberg

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 11:24:00 +0000

I just got back from a really lovely weekend in the German town of Heidelberg, where I was visiting my good friend Maria Pia. It was one of those times where you just pick up the conversation where you had left off, as if there had been no intervening period. I got to see her new apartment and we chatted about all sorts of things, some mundane, some deep-and-meaningful. Here are some of the highlights.

I gave her the Rasta Beret I had made for her, and she loved it! I must say, I also found it very becoming. She had bought the yarn for me the last time I visited her in Heidelberg and asked me to knit it when I had time, but said that she had since totally forgotten about it. Her reaction would have warmed any knitter's heart! After I had given her the hat, we went out for dinner to the local Schnitzelhaus, where they had 100 different schnitzels you could order. I went for the Hungarian one, with a kind of goulash sauce with capsicum and bacon, while MP went for chanterelle mushrooms and a cream sauce. Although, we were both tempted to order either the one cooked in coconut milk, or covered in chocolate. Maybe next time.
On Saturday morning we just woke up and chatted for a while, then went shopping. Disappointed that we couldn't enjoy a proper aperitif before dinner, we went to a liquor store in search of something appropriate, and each left with a small flaçon of strawberry-rhubarb liqueur. Yum! Then I went in search of "teach yourself" language books, but ended up buying a copy of The Little Prince in Georgian for a friend in Holland.
For those of you uninitiated in the appearance of the Georgian language, get a load of this:
I was quite from my a-propos, as they say in Dutch. There's an interesting Wikipedia article on the Georgian alphabet here. I also experienced a small frisson in the bookstore's foreign language section, when I realised I understood the title of one of the books in Polish - "Dziewięc", which means Nine. Guess all those hours of Polish study during the sermons at Scot's kind of paid off. Sadly, the yarn store down the road had nothing I liked, so I will have to wait before knitting my fabulous keyboard scarf.
During the shopping we also picked up a copy of The Devil Wears Prada, and then proceeded to go home and watch it, after eating crepes and while consuming large amounts of camembert and Cuarenta y tres, a vanilla-herby flavoured Spanish liqueur.
The next morning, MP gave me a present, and you'll never guess what it was... an armadillo that turns into a ball! (See this post.) I think I'm going to call him Albert. Here he is, doing his stuff:
I just love him to bits! I think I'll put him on my bookshelf, next to Derek the Wombat.
Then we went into town with the laptop to hook up to the Internet in a local cafe and watch the video of my mum receiving her birthday blanket, my Ravelry entry on the Rasta Beret, and watch a couple of episodes of Summer Heights High on You Tube, as I had been talking like Ja'mie all weekend and MP really wanted to see it for real. One cocktail, a few lattes, some miso soup and sushi later, it was time to pack up and head home. I had a really great and relaxing time!

Random Quote of the Day:

"Mieux tout seul que mal accompagné." (Better to be all alone than in bad company.)

Queen Offensive?

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 09:55:00 +0000

Last night I went to babysit the twelve-year-old again. It was fun, we played Zelda: the Phantom Hourglass together, but I was winning too much and he got upset when I used his own tactics against him. So we went and played a soccer game on the computer so T. could beat me. Then we tried a team game, where you have to obliterate bubbles by shooting clawhooks into the air. But I kept dying, which hindered our progress somewhat.

Then we played chess again, and T. sooooooo kicked my ass. He started this huge offensive with his queen, and managed to take all my good pieces one by one, just picking them off. I ended up with nothing but the king and a knight, so I surrendered. Although it's not officially in the rules, he made me tip over the king as a sign of my defeat. He also refused to concede that I had won two games last time, and is convinced the score is now 1-1. Well, I guess that means I just need to improve my game.

I discovered a great new knitting project, which I intend to start as soon as I can find some appropriate yarn. I want to make a harpsichord version, with light brown for the 'black' keys, and darker brown for the white ones. I'm off to Heidelberg today to visit Maria Pia, so perhaps I'll check out the yarn store there to see if there's anything suitable.

That's all for now. I'll be back after the weekend, hopefully with yummy yarn for my scarf!

Random quote of the day:

Initiative

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 09:16:00 +0000

Yesterday at work I couldn't decide which preposition goes with initiative - is it 'at the initiative of' or 'on the initiative of'? The BBI Dictionary of English Word Combinations didn't have an entry for initiative, so I was left at the mercy of Google. Here were the search results:

'At the initiative of' = 411,000 hits
'On the initiative of' = 496,000 hits

Although this might seem conclusive, there were still a lot of hits for both, so I still had no clear answer. Also, my personal preference was for at, and these results didn't support my opinion. Thinking further, I thought that my preference might be some weird Australian thing (for example, no self-respecting Australian would ever write in respect of, but British journalists seem to use it like there's no tomorrow), which called for more research. Here are the UK site results for at and on:

at = 548 hits
on= 560 hits

A mere hair's breadth, but still more results for on. And now the Australian sites:

at = 10,900 hits
on= 9,420 hits

I rest my case. I used on.

Quote of the day:

"You see Brent, that is the sign of true music - it hides its artifice behind a screen of beauty."
- John Weretka

Eureka!

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 21:10:00 +0000

(Insert Ja'mie voice here): "Um, so anyway, I have the best news..."

... I just got back from Stitch 'n' Bitch, and have made some major progress on a mathematical knitting problem I've been grappling with. Here's the story: just over a year ago, I wanted to knit an armadillo that you could roll up into a ball. Kind of like a popple, but I actually wanted a perfect sphere, not just a teddy with a pouch that you pull over its head. So I started thinking about how you would go about knitting a short-row sphere, i.e. one you could knit that had a resulting split across half the circumference allowing you to place folds in it to create a hemisphere (kind of like a foldable hood on a baby's carriage, or an awning). I found the problem mathematically a little daunting, and so quickly stopped thinking about it (I ended up knitting these dice). Until recently...

At the SnB I've made friends with Jennifer and Lisa, two atmospheric scientists from the Dutch meteorological institute. Needless to say, they're both better than me at maths, and after some brainstorming with Jennifer and her husband last week, tonight I placed the problem before Lisa and - you guessed it - we have a formula! Here's what we came up with:

Basically, what I needed to know was: for each cast-on stitch on the needle, how many rows are needed above and below it to produce a circle of latitude of the right circumference for that position on the sphere's surface? So using trigonometry (plus some white wine and a shot of strong Dutch gin) we figured out a way of calculating each circle of latitude as a function of the position of each stitch on the needle. Then you can figure out the short-row pattern, and knit the sphere in one piece. Phew and yippee at the same time!

Now I just need to get Jennifer to put the formula into an excel sheet for me, and then I'll have a generator that will calculate the pattern for any number of cast-on stitches.

(Insert evil laugh voice here): Mwuh-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Quote of the day:

A man remarks, in anger torn,
"No rose exists without a thorn."
Yet think of how his anger grows
At all the thorns without a rose!
- Eugen Roth

Clogging?

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 20:49:00 +0000

Hey y'all. Boy, am I exhausted today - don't know what hit me. Rehearsal was a real strain, I was really pooped after only having sung the cantus firmus of the Tallis Loquebantur, my voice was somewhere off in la-la land. So I'll be quick tonight. I just wanted to make a quick entry about...

Clogging.

While I was on Ravelry, I came across this user (sorry, if you're not already registered on Ravelry you won't be able to access that profile) who described himself as a 'clogging instructor'. This piqued my interest, and so I visited a few sites on the subject. From what I can gather, clogging is a type of folk dancing that resembles a cross between Irish dancing (i.e. Riverdance) and tap. Then I found this video on YouTube:

These guys are totally hot! And then I found this one:

The way they move, I think they all resemble 8-bit computer game characters. And at 0:21, the girl in front on the left kind of floats backward across the stage. Funky stuff.

I was also disappointed that none of this seemed to have anything to do with the Netherlands, which you might expect from the clog reference. Perhaps they only got around to inventing the clog, and left the dancing to other people(s).

Quote of the day:

"I can play woodblock, I'm really good at keeping time. Have you noticed I'm always on time?"
"No, I think punctuality is a little different from actual rhythm."

Here here.

Aaaaaaargh!

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 22:35:00 +0000

Thankfully I have a needle case full of these.

Daylight savings

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 10:50:00 +0000

Hello hello! Today I slept in until 12:30 (which I guess is really only 11:30), and boy do I feel overslept! So I only have nice things planned for today, namely knitting and Arrested Development with Lisa, (who also has a blog) and possibly dinner with Michiel.

The last few days have been pretty busy. I babysat a 12-year-old on Thursday whose father sadly committed suicide around a month ago. He's really into chess at the moment, but can't find any suitable opponents to play against, so we played two games and I gave him a run for his money. He's good, just needs to stop making rash moves out of frustration. In the second game I check-mated him with only a rook and a knight. All he had let were pawns and the king. He put up a good fight.

Friday I sang at the wedding of one of the members of the DomCantorij, the choir where I sing here in Utrecht. Getting married is kinda weird in the Netherlands: church marriages are not recognised by the State, so even if you get married in a church, you still have to go to the registry office and sign something to say you're actually married. The service was an actual full-on church service, with hymns, a collection and a sermon (but no communion). We sang movements 1, 4 and 12 of the big Te Deum by Mendelssohn, and the conductor was so impressed he decided to programme the whole piece for an upcoming concert on 10 May. Yaaaaaaay Mendelssohn!

Saturday we had a concert in the cathedral, a programme of Spanish and Dutch renaissance music relating to Mary (since she got knocked up this week). We sang Guerrero, Victoria and Lassus, plus the organist provided for some Frescobaldi and Sweelinck on the harpsichord for good measure. The conductor had tried to get us to approximate something resembling mean-tone tuning, but I'm not sure how successful that actually was. I was lowering all my fifths and major thirds etc., but did run into some resistance now and then. Perhaps that was for the best.

After the concert, I went back to Jantine's house to celebrate her husband Mick's birthday. I collapsed on the couch, ate whatever food was placed in front of me, and once all the other guests had gone home, attempted a tubular sock cast-on. And it worked! A tubular cast-on avoids the bunched-up look of a regular cast-on, and makes it appear as if the stitches travel up and over the cast-on edge, back down the other side. This is because they actually do. Normally this cast-on is made using a piece of waste yarn in addition to the actual yarn, and requires you to transfer the open stitches at a later stage, but Jantine has this great sock book that showed me how to do it without using the waste yarn. Much less hassle, and also much more clever! As I said in my last post, I'm all about saving time these days.

Ok, now I'm off to Lisa's for knitting and DVDs. Before I go, one last photo of my new laptop:

Isn't she pretty?

New laptop

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 00:37:00 +0000

Okay, so I know I haven't been the best blogger lately. Well, for roughly the last year. But now I have this super-cool new fast laptop from Asus, which I hope will make blogging easier, as it will take less time to upload photos, etc. so maybe things will change. That's what life is all about for me right now - saving time.

And that for someone who is considering travelling by boat to Australia from the Netherlands.

Five minutes of fame

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Tue, 30 Jan 2007 12:39:00 +0000

Just a quick note to say that today at work I revised a letter from Dutch Prime Minister Jan Peter Balkenende to President George Bush. Oh my god.

Unfortunately, the contents were highly confidential, so I can't say any more.

Bored at work

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 15:25:00 +0000

So, the National Museum of the Netherlands neglected to send the text I was supposed to translate, and consequently I've just spent the last 3 hours here at work translating information on baby formula and breastfeeding for the Nutricia brand of baby formula. I simply can't explain how thrilling that was. Oh wait, that's because it wasn't.

And now I'm sitting here with nothing to do, so I thought I'd put up a post to kill some time. Officially I do have work to do, but that deadline's in December and I'm buggered if I'm going to spend my last hour before my day off getting deep into a 4000-line project that I won't be able to continue until next week anyway.

Actually I did a rather interesting translation this morning, it was about an art exhibition of items that had been stolen from Jews in the Netherlands during the WWII and that never found their way back to their rightful owners. I was only translating the photo captions for the exhibition brochure, but one of the pictures was of Hitler giving Göring a painting as a birthday present. The photo looked really boring at first sight, but when you realised that the painting Göring was being given had been stolen from some people who were in all probability already dead at the time, Göring's childish smile and Hitler's self-satisfied expression began to look quite eerie. Although, I imagine that Hitler looking self-satisfied would always appear quite eerie, not only at birthday parties.

My, how time flies. Home time! I'm off to stitch and bitch tonight, socks socks socks!!

The Goat

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Mon, 13 Nov 2006 21:36:00 +0000

Last Saturday I went with Michiel to the town where he grew up, Bergen op Zoom. There they have a lot of very very strange traditions, such as the one I witnessed while I was there: the 11th of November Goat Ceremony.

Before I get into the details of the Goat Ceremony, first you have to know a little about the celebration of Carnaval in Europe. In the countries where it is celebrated, the Carnaval festival is held in the time just before Ash Wednesday, or Lent (I think). In the past it was just an excuse to use up all the tasty food before people started fasting, a kind of totally blown-out Shrove Tuesday. Unlike its Irish counterpart, however, Carnaval goes on for more than one day. It lasts for several days in the more calvanistic places, a couple of weeks in more normal regions, and maybe even a month in places where they really let their hair down and go for it.

It started in Bergen op Zoom on the 11th of November. That's last Saturday - at least a full 3 months before lent. Are you starting to get the idea of just how crazy these people are?

This year the Goat Ceremony had a special significance for Bergen op Zoom, because a new Carnaval Prince was elected for the first time in 12 years. Let me explain: for Carnaval, there is always somebody elected "Prince" of the city by a sort of official organisational body for that city. This person is basically an average Joe, representative of that region with a bit of character and a sense of humour. Anyway, he gets the key to the city, and can parade around for the duration of the Carnaval festival and receive lots of honours, gets lots of attention, maybe give a speech or two, etc. etc. He's quite popular.

In Bergen op Zoom, they have 4 such characters. They have the Prince, the Jester, a policeman called "Steketee" (pronounced STAY-kuh-TAY) and the Grootste Boer (literally "biggest farmer", but I saw this guy and trust me, they come much bigger than him). So these guys are always played by the same 4 people in Bergen op Zoom, until one of them decides he's had enough of all the honour and glory and decides to throw in the towel. Well, that's what the Prince did last year, and so this year they had to have a new one. His identity is traditionally always revealed at the Goat Ceremony on 11th of November, when they also announce the theme of next year's Carnaval (kind of like the fancy dress guidelines for the following year's celebrations). Everybody was so excited, I could hardly believe it. It was worse than a presidential election and twice as scary. Let me explain what happened.

Firstly, at around 10pm, I had to get dressed up in a Boerenkiel (that hideously oversized navy blue garment you can just see under all that other stuff - see photo). Then I needed a specifically red (has to be red) handkerchief fastened around my neck with a tiepin in the form of -- that's right, you guessed it -- a goat. Plus a plaster medallion from last year, a funny hat, and lastly an old lace curtain wrapped around my neck. This was how I left the house at around 10:20pm last Saturday night. I'm sure you won't believe me when I say that my outfit was nothing compared to the stuff that other people were wearing. It looked like some of them had covered a headpiece with glue, and then dipped it in the contents of a million bottom drawers. These people had so much stuff hanging from their hats and jackets, everybody was like a walking jumble sale. Lampshades and curtains were very popular items.

Anyhow, so we walked into town, had a beer, and then proceeded to the statue of the Goat. There, around the statue, was a crowd of people about the same size as the population of a small African country, dressed in their hats, lampshades, curtains and other sundry items. Just try to imagine for a moment what this looked like. I'd also like to add at this point that by now it was pouring with rain, and there were about 4 brass bands playing different songs simultaneously in an area about half the size of an average schoolyard. No-one seemed bothered by any of this at all.

About ten minutes later another, more powerful brass band started up, and a procession came towards the statue dressed in red pointed hats and carrying torches. As they neared the statue I was convinced that they were going to hang a black person or something, but Michiel assured me that nothing quite so drastic would happen. So anyway this guy in the Prince's hat and covered by a sheet got up onto the statue and revealed himself to the onlookers, and no-one really even knew who he was, which was very disappointing.

Just when everybody was getting over their disappointment, another band started up, and another procession with torches arrived, meaning that the first one had been a prank and that the unidentified guy hadn't been the new Prince at all. So we all saw the new Prince, an average-looking guy of around 24, in the special hat, yadayadayada. Everyone was really excited.

I won't describe the whole ceremony in detail here, but suffice it to say that we did roughly the following (not necessarily in this order): we took off our hats and sang a song about the Goat losing a piece of its udder (in the local dialect, no less); counted 11 rings of a bell (it all has to happen at 11:11pm, you see); repeated a speech line-by-line that the Grootste Boer delivered to the Goat; listened to the Prince's speech; sang the Goat-udder song again; knelt in the grass (which by this stage had become mud because of the rain - long live Dutch weather); bowed to the statue; sang the udder song once more; and followed the procession back into town. Oh, and we frequently had to place our left thumbs on our noses and extend our fingers upwards, as though we were making fun of somebody. Is this sounding like the Freemasons yet?

After this hour of the most bizarre behaviour I had witnessed in a long time (and I've been to Helsinki in the middle of winter), I was told that this was only the tip of the iceberg, and that it all really got going in the 4 weeks before Ash Wednesday. I won't tell Michiel this, but I think I might actually give Bergen op Zoom a wide berth around that time. (Just kidding darling - of course I'll come down one weekend).

Our next goal was of course to get into a pub somewhere and get hammered, but since 11-11-2006 happened to be a Saturday this year, the entire town was out doing the same thing, and those who know about Dutch pubs and Dutch towns know that there simply aren't enough pubs to accommodate the population of a small city all at once. So we had a couple of slightly disappointing drinks in a smallish pub with no brass band, then went home for hot chocolate.

Despite all the bizarreness, I actually have to say I had a pretty good time. I might even raid my bottom drawer for stuff to put on my hat next year...

Dagje uit

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Sun, 05 Nov 2006 11:18:00 +0000

So, after 10 months of relationship and during that time only having had one outing, Michiel and I finally made the effort to go and discover part of the Netherlands that neither of us knew. We took the train (and a bus) to Muiderslot, the oldest castle in the Netherlands. It was built around 1286 and, after its most famous owner Count Floris V was murdered by his peers, it had as its most renowned other inhabitant the Dutch poet and Judge P.C. Hooft. Here are a few pictures from our day:

This is the castle itself. A little smaller than I expected, but still quite nice with its surrounding lawns, moat, etc. As you can see, this picture was taken from the side of the castle without the authentic 13th century satellite dishes bolted to it. They're on the other side.

Me doing my P.C. Hooft philosopher/poet impersonation. Convincing?
Much more convincing, however, is Michiel's jester impersonation. He's so lovable!

Futon fun

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Sun, 22 Oct 2006 15:09:00 +0000

Well, my hand-made Japanese futon mattress was finally ready (after having ordered it about 5 months ago), so my good friend Simone consented to being my taxi for the day, and we went to Amsterdam to pick it up! Here are some action photos of the "installation".

Taking off the wrapper:

Mmmm, 100% cotton, fresh from the workroom. Smells good!

Feels very comfy too.

The finished look:

I slept on it last night and it's just great. Worth every one of the 300 euros I paid for it!

First Post

noreply@blogger.com (Brentusfirmus) — Thu, 19 Oct 2006 09:04:00 +0000

So, welcome to the new Brentusfirmus.com! Here I will update all those in Australia with info and photos about my life here in the Netherlands. Click the link to the left for my knitting blog, and see what crazy projects I'm working on!