Strap yourself in, we're going on a Summer Adventure.

"I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it" - Edgar Allan Poe

I have a great life and I love the things that happen, although sometimes I do wonder if I was born with an invisible idiot magnet. I'm just one of those people that "things happen to" ...and revel in life's quirky gifts. 

Sultry summer evenings, chilled wine of any shade, year or bouquet, the occasional post bbq cigarette and hours of befuddled chattage. Don't you just adore those nights? Pat and I have had some of our deepest, nonsensical conversation under the influence of sun and zinfandel. As you may have read previously, I've been under some strain at work due to the poisonous influence of certain colleagues. ( Hey, it's my blog - I can be as martyrish as I like ) Of course one of our highly cerebral discussions eventually turned to one of these people and her behaviour. "She's an absolute enigma" I commented. Quick as a flash, Pat returned with "No darling, she's an absolute enema" ...you see why I love him.

We've had some remarkable moments in our summer garden. For instance, when decided to light the terracotta garden stove for the first time one summer. We didn't realise that our youngest son, Gareth, had been using it as a bin, depositing anything and everything he'd used to clean his motor scooter. Chuck a few logs in, add some lighter fuel for good measure.....and stand back... aghast, whilst the resulting pyre whooshed with concentrated petrol and oil strength to melt a massive black hole in the plastic roofing of the carport. Combine the thick, intense flame with the black smoke from the melted roof and we had a blaze to rival any Viking funeral. We don't do things by halves you know. Even arson. 

Leiden is a beautiful city; it's also full of life in the summer. The cafes open up their boat terraces and crowds of international locals enjoy the multi cultural atmosphere whilst sipping a beer on the waterside. The odd exuberant student will partake in a refreshing dip in one of the many canals, laughing nonchalantly in the face of a resulting visit to ER for a seasonal stomach pumping. July is Leiden's "Lakenfeest" celebrations. The wonderful boat parade "peurbakkentocht" opens the annual 4 day party. As far as I can gather, the celebrations traditionally honour the merchants season here in Holland, when the linen merchants, fishermen and other tradesmen made their ceremonial entrance via the waterways of our lovely city. These days it's a 4 day drinkfest - but  I'm not complaining, especially when the sun shines. This year we joined the crowds to watch the "Miss Transvestite of the year" awards. Lots of raddled, over made up and inappropriately dressed girls in figure hugging ensembles.
Thank heavens the Drag Queens are more tasteful.
What fun we had, inhibitions to the wind as we belted out and bopped to “The Supremes” (Tribute act …I think). Yelled encouragement at beauties with names like “Lady Charisma” and “ Deena Diamond” (bearing a close resemblance to the aforementioned colleague,  Deena is much more girly). There was even a streaker, actually it might have been the student who dived in the canal, already showing symptoms of neural poisoning. The mad fool. Funnily enough, the Trannies were very, very irate at this unexpected flashing of the flaccid flesh and “Christine Carrington” (Host-ess) proceeded to give him a damn good telling off, He stood there drooping with shame and glowing with canal radiation, although it was a 37degree sunny day so in fairness that might have been sunburn – hehe.
Finally making our unsteady way home we decided to take a short cut through a narrow passage next to an old turret called the “Burcht” . Happily weaving my way, I noticed that an old lady leaning against a wall wasn’t actually a nasty old drunk but was having some trouble breathing. Of course I helped…well, I say helped…
It was dusk, a dark alley, my only protection my merry husband and my handbag. Not being famous for my caution, I took the old girl by the arms and helped her to form a breathing pattern. She had an inhaler and while I calmed her down she took a couple of slugs of steroid. All in all it did the trick. Then from nowhere, out of the gloaming loomed a huge, midnight blue midi dressed, platform soled, black Morticia Adamsesque bewigged figure with blue lips and a determined, murderous expression.
Aaarggghh (gasped Pat)
Gulp (I gulped)
It/he/she then leaned over me as cowering, I bravely tried to protect the old dear in my care. “Mama” he/she said “what’s wrong?”
Aha, however much my senses were dulled by the copious amounts of beer, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was her son/daughter/hermaphrodite progeny. I’m nobody’s fool. Having established that Mama was okay and all she needed was a slow walk and some foetid canal breeze, we all walked amicably on together, with the promise of a drink to say thanks for the help should we ever meet again.

To be honest, I’m not sure I’d recognize them.