create renew restore

... is the motto of a store I came across in July:


At that point in time, they had just opened shop on Jan Evertsenstraat in Amsterdam.


Bags and cushions made from old dresses or curtains really caught my attention. It is one of those things that you think you could do yourself, given time and occasion, but if you're really honest to yourself you know you never will nor can.


It was obvious from some signs in the windows that this was only a temporary location. And possibly not the best one as far as business opportunities for the young designers running the store was concerned.

A few months later, the shop was gone again. There was a sign, though, telling customers where they had moved to - I just totally forgot to write down the address.

Today I passed it again and, lo and behold, the shop was still empty and the relocation notice was still on the door. They have moved to Haarlemmerdijk 39, one of the bustling shopping streets of today.

Here's a pullover (some call it a Pullunder) bag from their website:


Apart from textile products, they also offer revamped china and pottery, necklaces, lamps, and so forth - and they offer courses on various restoring techniques as well as group projects such as a group quilt.

Time to go visit the Haarlemmerdijk again - it's been a while...

Je hebt geluk gehad - by Herman Erbé

The first time I heard a song from Dutch singer/songwriter Herman Erbé was 29 years ago, give or take a few weeks. It happened in Café Husse, a tiny "bruin café" in Langestraat which was to become my local pub for many years. Until it closed, that is.

Karin, who at the time was already living in Amsterdam, had heard Herman sing in Folk Fairport, found out he co-owned a pub and during one of my visits to the city carted me there on the back of her bicycle.

This was a few years before Herman joined Jozef Custers to form Circus Custers, a band which scored a couple of top-40 hits ("Verliefd", "Monica", "Louise") in the early Eighties. But like in so many cases, such hits don't say everything about the music that bands or singer/songwriters normally make.

Their album "Romantisch Verbitterd"(1983) contained a few of the songs I have always loved, such as "Wilde Ganzen", "Kop in de Wind" of "Het Allerschoonste Stoepie" but there were others: the one about the pensioner who'd never loved fishing but still went out every day to the canal to not get on the nerves of his wife ("Vissen"), the one about whether the Russians would really invade Western Europe and if so, why and where they'd come from ("Als de Russen komen"), or about Dutch participation in UNIFIL, the UN troops in Lebanon in the 1980's ("Net 3 dagen Libanon"). Herman has also written many songs for kids - yet another side to his creativity.

Sometimes I search the internet for people I used to know (better) - and some months ago I found some new songs by Herman Erbé on YouTube.

"Je hebt geluk gehad" is about a soldier returning from Afghanistan after the vehicle he was in hit a road mine, about his buddies, and about sense and nonsense of the mission. The song is powerful, like so many by Herman's hand, even more so in combination with the stills that make up the video put together by him and his partner Josje Hennink.

Anyway, since the song is in Dutch and many of you do not understand the language, I have tried to sort of translate the lyrics into English. Took me a while but that is the reason why I didn't post this earlier. By the way, you can't sing my English version (totally unofficial and unauthorised, all rights Herman Erbé), and it isn't always literal, but I do hope that, in combination with the music and the images, Herman's intentions do come across somewhat:

You're such a lucky man
by Herman Erbé

You left your buddies there, beside themselves,
cursing, searching where the road was mined.
For a week or two they'll drive more slowly,
until their fear wears out and hides again.
Some want to but can't talk about it,
anothers feels as if his head explodes.
They fought the flames, fought for your limbs,
and then puked their hearts and bowls right out.

A reconstruction mission and a new beginning,
so they said and you, you did believe in that.
A reconstruction mission, it's what you really wanted,
but for each school you built another was knocked down.
And that time under friendly fire, you were soaked with cold sweat.
You're such a lucky man.

You left your buddies and your limbs behind.
Somewhat confused, a little aghast.
Those doubts, already in your mind implanted,
did grow when you woke up in that bed.
Bags of mail arrived with sympathy, good wishes,
love yous, be strong and get wells.
They're all such really nice people,
but you do change a bit with such a blow.

It was to be a peace mission, no eye-for-an-eye war,
a certain risk included - but noone prepared for this.
A mission for peace, The Hague had said.
Now that you're back, they're somewhat embarrassed,
you might even be the reason for a new debate.
You're such a lucky man.

Some of your buddies keep reliving their fear,
And in their eyes, madness fights pain.
Otherwise healthy, for the rest of their lives,
No such luck to just be shot or struck by a mine.
Their jokes extreme, sometimes real morbid,
worked up, often too high-strung.
They call you a "cuddly invalid",
looking at them you do feel fortunate...
You're such a lucky man.

In the meantime...

... I have been rather busy. Apart from work and such, helping my mother move from her house to an apartment in town has taken up most of my time and energy in the past couple of months. It is an ongoing project and will keep my sister and me (and our respective Schatzes) busy for some more time. But my mother feels great in her new environment, and that is the main thing.

I didn't forget about the blog, though, I worked on a number of projects for my blog - they just took some time to mature.

Some of them are about to emerge from their cocoons, so just watch this space again!

Dressed to Kill

Last weekend, Schatz and I went to Oerlinghausen near Bielefeld, for a Viking weekend in their Archaeological Open Air Museum. It is a fairly small place, compared to what we know from Denmark, for example, but it takes you from a summer camp of ice age reindeer hunters via a stone age and a bronze age farm building all the way to an early medieval (Saxon) homestead. In addition, there are a number of buildings focusing on various aspects of daily life, such as a bake house, a brewing house, or a pottery. Mainly, visitors find period items in the buildings, and also some explanatory exhibits. In addition, the museum offers quite some workshops on things such as smithing, bow making, stone age bread baking, dyeing with plants, etc.

Last weekend, though, the museum was populated by Vikings, Saxons, Slavs, Merovingians, Ottonians, i.e. representatives of various parts of Europe from about 600 to 1050 AD. People showed crafts, there was a show kitchen informing the audience about period cooking with seasonal ingredients, there was an archery exhibit, some warriors explained early medieval weapons, armoury and warcraft, as well a small period fashion show.

The weather was good, the audience in good numbers despite a 'competing' town party - and as usual, I didn't really get to take any pictures. For those, I would like to refer you to blog entries by Kees and Marion, as well as Marion's Flickr pages.

Schatz had been working on a needle case during the weekend, which was snatched out of his hands by a greedy re-enactress almost before it was finished. Such early medieval needle cases made from bird wing bones (usually goose or swan) have been found all over Scandinavia.

needle box from upper goose wing bone

In this particular model, a piece of fabric inside the bone holds the needles. To get to them, you pull it out of the bottom of the needle case. It is typically hung from a woman's brooches or her belt.

Woman's coat based on Haithabu finds

Ute had just finished her new 2-layer coat based on finds from Haithabu. Most interesting and looking very warm indeed!

Last but not least, the garden of an Oerlinghausen local which has captivated my attention for many years.

backyard railway signal

I'm not sure whether the train ever stops here... but then maybe it's to regulate the slide traffic.

Laurel and Hardy wisely deciding NOT to climb the mountain

This actually is from the same garden. I guess it's better than having it all inside the living room...

Supermarket Daze

Have you ever felt dazzled by a sign? I mean really overwhelmed by the powerful, mind-boggling concept it conveyed? Well, it happened to Schatz and me last Saturday, as we were about to do our weekend shopping.

Seeds for Children just € 2.49 a bucket!

Seeds for Children. And they are even available in two varieties, as flowers or as sprouts! Sometimes you wonder about the geniuses behind such scientific achievements!

One bucket just left of the sign even says it quite unambiguously , this is 'Kindersaatgut' or 'children seeds'. Like carrot seeds or parsley seeds or sunflower seeds. Only for children.

Unfortunately, the buckets are not see-through and so, short of buying one, I can only resort to guesswork about the nature of these seeds. Are they small like koriander seeds or rather more like beans? Or maybe they're even bigger, like winegum bears, just maybe shaped like babies? Or maybe they're sorted into little bags, one for boys, one for girls?

We put various such theories to some friends at a brunch on Sunday but so far noone else has seen these mysterious buckets, let alone opened one and sown some children, and most certainly noone has ever harvested this produce.

So quite a few questions remain open: are these perennial children or for one season only? Do they come in different sizes, i.e. from bonzai to gigantic, like trees? What exactly is the difference between kids grown in bulbs or as sprouts? Do they prefer direct sun or shade, and can you grow them inside on your window sill?

Still rolling all these thoughts around in our minds, we entered a neighbouring discounter, where we suddenly faced a long row of red and green cartons.

Do they know it's still almost 4 months till Christmas?

We really wanted to scream and shout and throw bags of flour through the aisles but we decided to behave and just mutter words of unbelief. And return for a photograph...

Once upon a time, people started baking cookies and Christmas puddings and making Christmas confectionary as late as December. Then in November. About 10 years ago they started selling the stuff in October.

And now, for a couple of years, they have been trying to flog it as early as September. By the time it's Christmas, there will be hardly anything left and customers will long for strawberries...

Not us. None of that for us before the 4th Sunday before Christmas (1st Advent Sunday in Germany) or December 1st, whichever comes first.

But even that is still two and a half months away. Eleven long weeks to look at high-calory, high-sugar, low-fibre Christmas munchies when you really want to see broccoli, zucchini, bell peppers, cucumbers, mushrooms, fish - and maybe some pasta, cheese and wine....

But maybe the good news is that in a few years time they will start selling Christmas sweets on Easter Tuesday, and noone will get fat at Christmas anymore...

Up-nosed and wet in Alphen aan den Rijn

The first weekend in September traditionally marks a major Viking market in Archeon, an archaeological theme park in Alphen a/d Rijn, about 45 minutes from Amsterdam. And after not being able to participate for a couple of years, Schatz and I had decided we'd really have to make it this year.

Easier said than done, as we found out. First I came down with a bad headcold a few days before but then Schatz caught some of the same, too, and so we decided to not go a day early as we had originally planned. But hey, what is a sore throat and some major coughing when you're a hardy Viking! Besides, there are pills and syrups and warm socks and shawls...

And so we packed my trusty longship...

Chests, boxes, pillows, furs, cowhides, tent, blankets - almost ready to go

It's a good thing we bought a roof box some years ago, at least we now fit everything into the car and still are able to use the rear view mirror. If we don't also take the cooking gear, that is.

We are quite experienced these days as far as packing goes but carrying everything downstairs and packing the lot still takes more time than we would like. No pain, no gain - as they say.

By the time we hit the motorway north of Hamburg, it was after 2 pm. Still no reason to worry, the weather was good and maybe the weather forecast for Archeon, according to which it started raining there just about this time, was inaccurate. Wishful thinking!

A few minutes later, we half-heartedly listened to the traffic warnings on the radio. 20 km traffic jam somewhere on the A1 near Bremen. Arrrgh! But wait, maybe it was not on 'our side' but in the other direction. The next traffic alert, 15 minutes later, told us otherwise. Although it was 'stop and go' now and only 15 km...

Schatz started checking the maps for possible detours. There was a secondary road parallel to the Autobahn but we all know what happens when traffic jams - everybody takes the detour and that is jammed, too.

So we watched the trucks. They are usually pretty well informed... but not this time. They trucked on, and so did we, and a few kilometers later, traffic jammed. It was stop and go, and then stop and go, and then it stopped again. And, of course, it unjammed a few kilometers before the next offramp, so we got our hopes up again, and then a few minutes later it jammed up again. Of course.

About an hour later than we should have, we reached an Autobahn junction near Bremen. And here we found what we think was the reason for this traffic jam: traffic arrives in two lanes, then a third lane is opened on the left. So far so good. But for construction purposes, the right lane then is closed about 1 km later. I think you can guess what happens... people race to the front, then hit the brakes to get back in line. And this is passed to the back. The odd accident and overheated engine do not help. Sometimes I do wonder about the organizational skills of traffic regulators! Just a little, mind you.

In the meantime, though, we had time to admire the landscape (flat, green, cows) and our co-jammers. One of the trucks looked a bit out of place, though.

Keep on truckin'

Coming up behind it, the truck's cab reminded me of US highways, and lo and behold, it was indeed a US truck. I wonder whether they're allowed to blow US truck horns in Europe...

Once the interesting part was over, i.e. shortly after running free from the traffic jam, we changed drivers. Which gave me the opportunity to try my hand at some pictures - most of which didn't turn out too well until I used the GIMP's artistic improvement features.

Schatz, looking decent again with short hair
(according to his aunt)

By the time we reached Archeon, it was getting dark. Partly because it was way past 20h, and partly because big bad black clouds were pulling in. At the gate, we found out where we were supposed to pitch our tent - but when we got there, the only spot left was so muddy that nobody would even walk across.

Back to Martin, the organiser. On the way, we saw a spot where our tent would fit and the people already 'living' there were okay with it but we still wanted to make sure Martin hadn't planned to put someone else there.

SIGH. Sometimes it doesn't pay to be nice and decent and considerate: by the time we got back from Martin and turned the car and were about to start to set up the tent, it started to rain. Really Rain. And it got darker. No wonder, it was close to 21h by now. What to do? Maybe the rain would stop in 15 minutes time and we could pitch the tent without getting soaked? What if the rain went on, or even got worse? Then it would be even darker...

We went for the sure thing and put the tent up in the pouring rain. My trusty Astra stationwagon's lights lit the ground for us, and at least the rain was not too cold. By the time the tent was up, the ground sheet held a few gallons of water and so did our clothes. What the heck, we pulled the groundsheet out again, shook the water off and started to build our bed of sheep skins.

Around that time, the rain stopped. I still believe that if we had waited with pitching the tent, it would have kept raining for hours... pssst - don't you dare to tell me otherwise!

It was really dark now and with our neighbour's van gone, I thought I'd move my car to use my front lights better. Uh oh. The sounds my poor little diesel engine made when I tried to get it started... it seemed that the battery held enough power to provide us with some light - but not enough to start the engine! I guess 5 years of good use take their toll on those things.

To make a long story (okay, it only took 45 minutes but it felt like hours) short: we got everything into the tent, our neighbours helped us jumpstart the car, we pulled down the front flap without completely closing the tent, put on our dry Viking clothes, had a quick drink, coughed and sneezed some, and fell asleep.

Night view from a wet tent with fancy knotwork

The next two days were filled with showing crafts to the visitors, meeting with friends and acquaintances, not having enough time to talk to everyone or seeing everything. And rain. Always rain. (I guess we used up all the good weather in May, June and July...)

But hey, who cares about rain when you have a good rainproof tent and some sideflaps that will protect you even from sideways rain! We were even able to offer a little hospitality to Danny and Marion who sat with us both days. Thank you both for your very pleasant company! And for watching the tent when Schatz and I went for a little stroll on Sunday.

Marion and Danny hard at work: needlebinding

Like always, taking pictures is the last thing you get around to when you're dressed in period clothes and basically busy explaining and demonstrating. I guess that is one of the main reasons why I have come to like going to events incognito from time to time...

But we got around to taking a few more in our cozy little tent.

Lady Marion of York - hiding in our tent from some evil Sheriff

Lady Danny, aka Sews with Wolves

The pictures are taken with a small digital camera - and as practical as it is for reasons of size and being able to hide it in a historical setting, the quality of the images leaves much to be desired. Still, with a bit of goodwill, you are able to see the rain behind Danny in the above photograph. It was raining 'strings', as they say in German... which is just the stage before raining 'blares'...

A typical Schatz picture:
Danny 'up-nosed' and I wet and miserable and not in the mood for pictures.
Our motto: Nous Maintiendrons!

When the market drew to a close at 17h on Sunday, we packed as quickly as we could and - yes, really! - we got our things into the car as dry as could be after a day filled with rain. And around 2h the next morning, we had even managed to drive all the way back to Northern Germany and unpack most of our stuff, as well.

Conclusion: a good market, good people, good company, good visitors, good organisation by Martin and Rona, a good feast on Saturday night - we will be back.

Thanks for All the Fish

Although we love to sleep in on Sunday mornings, we decided last night to be sensible and mature and get up early enough to go to a nearby flea market and then to the gym.

We actually managed! After a quick sensible breakfast of muesli with cranberries in some yoghurt, we packed our gym bags and left. Schatz, like most every other man I know, is not very keen on shopping. Unless it's for food. Anyway, he too wanted to have a look at the flea market.

And it was crowded! It seemed as if twice the sellers were there this morning than usual. The sun was shining, the punters slowly walked - nay, were pushed by those behind - along the stalls. There wasn't that much interesting ware, though.

Except maybe for the yardsticks, but we do have a good collection ourselves, really.


Until we reached the rope seller. No, not Monsieur Leclerc disguised as a typical rope seller, but a supplier of all types of ropes, from hemp via sisal to artificial fibre. Sisal also is called sisal hemp, by the way, but it is not hemp but stems from the Agave sisalana. They just called everything hemp ropes in the past as hemp was for centuries a major source for fiber for ropes. The same, by the way, also applies to Manila hemp. Neither are therefore acceptable for Early Medieval re-enactment.

Anyway, we needed more than just a few meters, not just for us but also for some friends of ours. His roll held about 200 meters which was about double of what we were looking for. Schatz and I discussed buying it all, but balked at the amount of money it would cost. The seller overheard us, of course, and came with an offer that we couldn't resist, and so now we own a large roll of rope. Enough for us and To&Bi and possibly our next tent.

200m of hemp rope plus some tarred hemp cord

One thing I've learned: some things you never can have enough of...

From the flea market, we went straight on to the gym. Warm-up on the stepper (I hate that thing), then a round of machines to do all sorts of strange things to muscles I have never heard of. I can handle a lot of things but the following machine really has me going.

lateral deltoid machine

The first time I tried this, without any additional weight to pull, my right arm sort of pushed up the roll, my left arm just stared at me and said wordlessly "WHAT?". It simply did not know what to do. I had to literally tell the muscle in my shoulder and upper left arm to lift that roller bar in a weird outward move. That first day I would manage a lift or two and then had to stop. By now, I can lift 5 kilograms (which is the machine without any additional weight, so it's really zero) 13 times without interruptions. Yippeekayay!

Bah! Schatz does 20 lifts at 7.5 kg. I'll have to do something about that.
Like make him watch this YouTube video:



Anyway, I stopped after one round on the machines and went to the studio part of the gym where, mornings and evenings, all sorts of courses are given. But now it was quiet and I had the mirror wall all to myself. I have started to do Pilates, and in a group there isn't always time to really work out all the details of an exercise, and that's what I focused on today. I'll see Tuesday morning at the next Pilates session, whether it helped.

While Schatz was working through a second round of the machines, I decided to cycle a few miles. Which is pretty boring, unless you catch a good documentary on the tv above. Fortunately they do have the Phoenix channel - German public tv documentary channel. Anything from science to natural wildlife to interviews to history. The other day it was a documentary on Gagarin, today is was German history of the early 1930's.

Back home, Schatz started contemplating what cake(s) to bake. It's his birthday tomorrow and it's customary to offer cake to the co-workers on your birthday. He rather wanted to play his newly bought pc-game and so kept juggling plans but in the end he baked two cranberry cakes - one with chocolate and one without.

Cranberry Cake Schatz Style

Before the cake, though, Schatz prepared dinner (okay, I helped with the veggies). First he harvested new potatoes from the balcony. No no, I'm not kidding.

Balcony Potatoes

Some months ago, he planted a couple of potatoes that were about to rot to hell and back in a plant box on the balcony. Today he figured they were ready, and they sure were!

Foiled Wolffish

With them, we had some wolffish (Seewolf in German, falsely also called Steinbeißer) fillet, baked in the oven inside a foil bag with spring onions, chili, basil, garlic, thyme, rosemary and a touch of sage. And some zucchini and aubergine ratatouille.

Fillet of Wolffish with New Potatoes and Ratatouille á la Sorte

A glass of Chardonnay or two accompanied the meal quite well, and so did the after-dinner whisky, a 12-year old Caol Ila Single Malt.

Caol Ila - from Islay

Sláinte! Here's to Schatz!