Day 415: I Have Two Questions Before I Leave Amsterdam Forever

I am leaving Amsterdam! Cocking hell. I am packing and packing. There are not enough suitcases in the entire of the Netherlands to receive my belongings, despite having slipped twelve Albert Heijn carrier bags full of shite to my brother and his lady under the pretence of "giving them some useful bits for their new house". (I would not want the things in those bags in a new house, so I am looking forward to finding out what they think. I am guessing they will not be using the used corn blades or opened tube of own-brand hair removal cream.

Anyway. Whilst I pack and pack, I wonder if my readers (regular and otherwise) could help me with two conundra*, both of which have been pressing on my tiny monkey brain in the last days.

Question 1: About My Mac, And Of A Technical Nature (Sort of)

(NB: Regular readers will be aware that I am not in the habit of asking this sort of question as I am not a dick. On the other hand, regular readers (each of them blessed with basic intellectual skills and interesting looks), seem to like to be asked things, so maybe it is not such a bad idea after all.)

Where the cock have all my photos on iPhoto gone? The little shape is there. The name of the file is there. But where is the tiny image? Where is the file when I press upon it with my mouse-buttons?

It is all backed up to iDisk, but where the cock are they on iDisk? I am in great distress.

Also, my stupid computer (12" Titanium PowerBook) is broken, which is really bad. There is a DVD stuck in it and no-one can get it out, not even with tweezers or sticks. The situation has not been helped IT Man unscrewing it, saying "it's, like, warped?", putting it back together and finding two screws left over, before telling me how he and his friends in Ohio like to spend the morning directing AK47s at scrap cars.

(A recommendation for a really good person who can make my Mac well again and who is in South London would be splendid. Do not say "Go to the Mac store" or "Buy a new computer". The first is stupid; as to the second, I am have no salary until I find a job in Canada. Also do not write a comment about "PC is best" blah blah yawn wibble PC World PC Week I like creases in my trousers. I use Macs, and Mac things. I am sure there are different and better ways of doing it and I am sure they are very good, but none of them interest me as they are all used by accountants who have weekend photography hobbies.)


Question 2: What Is This About?

It is a Dutch joke, but not even the Dutch people I know (and I know at least three, despite living in Amsterdam) can explain it.






Thanking you in advance for your kind attentions,

NWM


* Correct, despite the OED's insistence on "condundrums"

Day 413: I Apply For My Next Working Position

Tomorrow is my last day at my job! But no matter, for I have applied for another one. I am really excited about it. It is a store manager position, with good prospects for promotion, healthcare benefits and two weeks' holiday per year.

Here is my dream future new employer's promotional video:



I really hope they have a branch in Montreal!*





* My future new home (as regular readers are by now painfully aware).

Day 413: I Compose A Farewell Email To My Colleagues

The day of my leaving approaches! Despite a dark hour or two earlier this afternoon in which the possibility of extending my employment for another month seemed possible, a last-minute reprieve means that I am definitely leaving the Amsterdam on Friday.

Blinded by sentimentality, I composed the following email to my esteemed colleagues earlier today and sent it to all of them - even the ones I think are spastics!

I have not yet had one single reply to it, but I am sure they all really enjoyed it. I hope you do too!


Dear Friends,

I am leaving on Thursday. This is my email address, should you wish to keep in touch.

I am offering free accommodation for anyone who wants to visit. I will be living in a house that is 45 minutes' drive from central Montreal, on top of a hill, surrounded by apple trees, empty-eyed apple farmers, their silent wives, and a number of giant fruits (see attached photograph).

The nearest shop is an hour's walk away. I will not have a car until January. During the day, my 'boyfriend' will be at work; I will be at home making jam and staring in mute horror at Facebook.

I will need as many visitors as I can get. To tempt you, let me tell you that within a three-mile radius of my new home you will find an ostrich zoo, a children's' 'visitor experience' called "Reptile Land" and a garden centre that is 50 acres big and sells fully-grown trees.

In the summer, there is a wood full of ginseng, a meadow full of mosquitos, hills full of coyotes and bears, and a swimming pool the shape of a distorted kidney; in the winter (approx 6 months long), we have snow. On the left is a neighbour who grows specialist canaries who live in the cellar (there are over one thousand of them!); further down is a man who grows specialist vegetables and gardens naked.

I shall look forward to welcoming you all to Canadia!

God bless you all. And thanks for the mammaries.

NWM

Day 411: I Am Preparing To Leave Europe For The Colonies

It is all very well, this talk of bears with crossed eyes, and dogs with their heads in packets of crisps; of hairstyles from Paris and riding a giant donkey in the buff - for in truth it is all fanciful nonsense, recounted to distract myself (and the more attractive of my readers) from the rather more boring facts.

The boring facts are these. I am not spending my days pursued by bears and flashing my gusset on the front cover of "Naked Hot Monkey" magazine; I am packing. This week, I pack up one flat in Amsterdam, leaving behind some friends and quite a big bit of my family; on Friday I travel to the London to pack up another flat and say goodbye to more friends and the rest of my family (who are in fact in France).

After that, around the 20th of September, I travel to the Canada! There, I shall forge a new life for myself (inc. finding a job, friends, hairdresser, dentist, crack waxer, etc). And I will not be afraid or lonely, for in the Canada are entertainments in the shape of beavers, mooses, snow, cabins and ice fishing; Celine Dion magazine pullouts and Pierre Trudeau dolls to collect; grades of maple syrup to distinguish blindfolded and, most importantly, a kindly veterinarian pathologist to soothe me to sleep every night with the special syrup he usually injects into horses.

What's more, moving to the Colonies provides me with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to rid my plush London apartments of the twelve tons of tut* I have gathered over the years, some of which I list below. If you want any of it, it's yours.

1 x Reebok exercise bike. Used twice in front of breakfast TV, c. 2003. Original price c. £350. Free to anyone who collects.

1 x fucking annoying, fat, virtually dead cat (see above) who answers to the name of "Monster" and is useless. Free to anyone who collects. No questions asked.

6 x identical muffin tins

500 books, various, including three copies of Moby Dick (stained), one copy of Who Moved My Cheese? , one copy of Reading Your Lovestars (spine uncracked), c. 23 different editions of the complete works of Jane Austen, five copies of To the Lighthouse and last (but most certainly not least!), the collected works of the Pullein-Thompson sisters

2,342 items of clothing that do not fit me anymore, probably infested with moth. Should probably sell on eBay but can't be arsed.

1,210 cosmetic items, including 342 different body creams, 45 different types of conditioner and over 500 different eyeshadows. All at least 12 months old. Free to anyone who collects.

Dust. 2 tons.

Bits of shit, including postcards that I cannot remember receiving, photographs of people whose names I cannot remember, and things written on bits of paper, the significance of which I no longer understand.

1.2m CDs, mainly free ones acquired when doing some work for a high street retailer (called Woolworths) between 1996 and 1998. Includes 3 Texas albums, "Now That's What I Call Rock", Vols I - 67, and three copies of George Michael's Greatest Hits.

3.2m cassettes, mainly including the Cocteau Twins, Everything But The Girl, Van Morrison, The Smiths, New Order and REM, 'compiled' between 1985 and 1988.

12 wooden spoons

54 mugs

A cake.


Come on! You know you want it!**


* is this the correct spelling for a word I have often heard my father use, but never seen written down?

** the cat or, at the very least the exercise bike. Preferably both.

Day 411: I Tell The Story Of My Near-Death At The Hands Of A Gigantic Cross-Eyed Bear

What is this? There is a man by the side of the road! He is shouting with his silent mouth. It appears that he is saying WATCH OUT, THERE IS A BEAR!!

But this cannot be true. There are no bears in France, not even small ones.









Look! It is definitely not true. If there were bears in the vicinity (even small ones), the real sheep of this shepherd would be skittish.















What is that man saying in the background? URSINE ALERT? That is a bit strange.





Shitting hell! There is a bear! It has very mad eyes that are rolling in different directions.

It is fearsome, and one of its eyes is trained in a specific direction.

What is it looking at?








Oh no! It is looking at some sunbathing people who are fully dressed. They do not appear to have seen the bear, otherwise they would be looking more worried.














I really hope the bear is actually looking at something else, e.g. a postman with a piece of paper saying "Sarkozy" taped to his cap.


Shitting hell. The fucking bear can definitely see them. I am running for help.

"Au secours!", I will shout when I run. That is French for "help!".











Jesus wept. I am really shouting BEARS OVER THERE!, but these people do not care about the killer bear on the loose. They only care about encouraging turnout in the local elections.
















This man does not care either, despite the fact that I am shouting very loudly.

He is just happy that he has done a wee in the voting booth.











These two looked like they cared for a bit, but they do not really.

They only care about their new love-affair, despite the fact that she is thirty years older than him and will not take off her headscarf during 'relations'.








Oh dear. I think we are all going to die. Here comes the bear. He is very angry.

Ow! Get off, bear!

Jesus Christ, bear! I said GET OFF.

Idiot.