Monthly Archives: September 2014

It’s not lack of subjects….it is lack of time. I can’t recall one moment I stopped to just be, check in on myself, my thoughts and feelings. Contemplations….forget it right now. But a busy mind keeps distressing thoughts at bay. I go about my routine, barely making it to the office before 10 am and picking up Sebastian just after 3 pm, where I finalise the day juggling a handful of stuff. Luckily Sebastian is twice a week at the afterschool, which gives me two full days and a bit.

Yesterday it was parents – teacher talk, and in the evening I was cheering on Victoria giving her presentation in school where she studies graphic design. It goes without saying that I’m so proud of her, especially as she chose to read a very courageous poem, and of course presented her art work which she did in art class. Pictures follow below.

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Blogging is not something high on the priorities when you are under siege from a flu (however mild it may be). Despite feeling worse for wear, my weekend was actually NOT dedicated to domestic work (give or take a couple of hours of ironing). My dear friend Bien came over Friday night. Talking, reminiscing, listening to classical musical whilst indulging in sushi over candle light. For the first time in many months the house became a home, and I couldn’t help but looking back to the dinner parties given or the intimate conversations the dining room table had been privy to. Will it ever see a renaissance? It’s bitter sweet….as all is right now. Striking through the heart with the heaviest of artillery. But we must carry on, don’t we?


Sunday morning, and I’m woken up by Cecile. She wants out in the garden so I go downstairs and make breakfast and coffee. Plans are sketchy. Yesterday was certainly the worst day, and today….fever is gone, yet I feel exhausted. I want to pull a blanket over me and just sleep. Perhaps it is the queue to do just that. After all, plans can also just remain in their sketchy state.

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cheese cake, shake and an iced cappuccino



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…so did Bien’s pooch


…back at home, and in dire need of some sleep

Flu is not over yet. Despite my pitiful state I managed to get through an extremely busy day, and between cooking and putting Sebastian to bed clean the house. No wonder my body feels like a train wreck. A good friend of mine who came over last night commented on that it looked like I had lost weight. Well perhaps all the domestic work is proving to be a better work-out than any other.

I had planned to dedicate the weekend to the family but given a slight fever is still lingering (and I still have a heap of laundry and ironing), I suppose it will be mostly spent indoors. What are your plans for the weekend? Sx

I slept badly, waking up with a soar throat and worse with a suppressing pain on my face and neck. I guess it could be a flu which might be also the reason I had a pretty off day yesterday. Luckily no meetings today, just finalizing a presentation together with Iveta who will be here later today. As I’m working from home, I’ve blasted the heating to 23 degrees, wrapped myself up in a duvet, and made three concoctions to fight flu and fatigue: the usual strong coffee, a vitamin shake based on mango, seeds and raspberries and hotcoldrex (paracetamol and vitamin C) with some extra lemon juice added for good measure.

Enjoy this Thursday and please stay away from everything marginally associated with this season’s maladies.


…, the lukewarm espresso came through (travelled a long way from one side of Haarlem to another), my meeting got postponed, and instead I went for a drink with M. I am still immersed into the topic of defense mechanisms (long time since I had psychology as a subject) pondering whether living according to a certain philosophy is simply just a defense mechanism in itself. All of this whilst listening to Zuell – Olas de sal.

Accomplishments: I probably completed a little over half of what I should have done, but I take it down to being out of coffee. At this hour I should be packing, but I’m simply too tired and have a mild throat pain. Therefore it is a good night for me and yet again Catherine the Great as company (I couldn’t wish for any better ;).


No OCD is not one of the inflictions I suffer from. OCD?…yes Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, stacking things neatly in rows and other patterns, having to do things within a process you only understand the logic of (been there, watching under my bed and checking all the doors being locked used to be part of my bedtime routine, now is a different story, but safe to say, I’ve done away with those quirky patterns).

I’m looking around my desk (I’m alone, tired, uninspired but the action list keeps me at a steady pace) – it’s a mess. And it smells of meatballs which I brought with me for an improvised lunch. I have a late afternoon meeting which hopefully will turn into an early dinner. But it is hours away…

I message M…there is no coffee machine here, and I’m about to expire. Please please, please bring triple espresso from Starbucks, MEGA LARGE ONE, no sugar…just come, because I am slowly dying. I am sure I am. Heart palpitations from coffee withdrawal …I don’t know. Another 30 min….and I’ll have coffee and company…now back to that presentation….



I managed to make it to the office. With dog in tow and avoiding any looming rain clouds I navigated safely to my end destination. Cecile was about to expire at the end of it all, I was too truth to be told.

Mac wouldn’t start at first so there I was trying to make myself useful for the first 20 minutes.

Mac rebooted, I am still working on the agenda for today hmmm well, tomorrow is another day…


Yesterday going through my drawers I discovered all these old cards and newspaper clippings from my mum. It was hidden in an old leather wallet belonging to my grandfather I believe. A small and inconspicuous card fell out of it. Adorned by two roses it read simply Pia – my mother’s name. One the other side, my stepfather, Birger had written an adorable message of love. I read it, and re-read it, and then again and again until I could almost recite the lines by heart. I have taken a copy of it underneath here but as it’s in Swedish I will translate it.

To my loving wife Pia. Thank you for your loving care and attention to my health and welfare and for all the love you have given in our first year of marriage. Birger

It was short and sweet but summed up my mum in so many ways, always thinking of the welfare of others (Birger had a heart surgery later in life which of course had an impact on life in general). It also made me think of how lucky I was to have him as a stepdad as he was always there, strict but loving with proneness to spoiling me. Yeah I was lucky in many ways…

Mum and Birger, you are both in my thoughts x

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My mother to the right in the foreground as an angel. The year is 1950

You are still dancing to beauty and a burning violin. On summer fields embraced by the descending night. Under the stars and the brazing sun. On red-hot sand dunes and through cool, salty waves.

You need desperately, urgently, to dance. For the gentleman to grab you around the waist and carry you through the sea of couples. Navigating between dusty corners and a crowded bar, polished down to a smooth, mahogany red.

Oh yeah baby, you are dancing, substituting the object of desire with a steel vacuum cleaner handle. iPhone in the back pocket, you sweep up gray dust bunnies and forgotten cobwebs. You move around boxes and rummage through your life in the past 10 years. A decade that will soon come to a close.

So there you are darling, skipping, playing, smiling to a daunting task that won’t be ready for weeks. But now you are not counting down the days, you are just dancing….to the end of love.


If only one song could describe me….Susanne, or Fracas, Justine, Carmen, whatever your preference… it would have to be… Dance Me to the End of Love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We’re both of us beneath our love, we’re both of us above
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love