Monthly Archives: October 2014

It’s the day before….I’m sitting here with a slight cold and the daunting task of wrapping up this move before the removal company comes tomorrow. I feel a bit numb right now. Perhaps that will change by my blog post tonight or when all is over. But for now it is business as usual and putting my PM skills to the task and execute.

it’s been a strange month if you like, my work has suffered as I took on single-handedly to pack up 310 m2 of life that spanned a decade. Of course condensed that could be done in 4-5 days, but there was Sebastian’s holiday, the cleaning (as when you clear every nook and cranny you create constant mess). In essence it turned out to be a full time job, especially with all the admin that goes with a short-sale.

But with 36 hours away from handover it’s just a matter of getting things done. Wish me good luck!

It was in and out, literally. I had a quick lunch at Terminus Nord consisting of a foie gras and Riesling and when arriving back around 5 pm, feeling too bothered to look for a different place I opted for Terminus Nord once more, this time fr a more wholesome meal of duck breast (yes I am quite fond of this bird), a Saint-Émilion, and a chocolate tarte with vanilla ice cream for dessert and a café américain to keep me awake for the journey ahead. J walked in having only some 45 minutes to my departure but as always so good to see him. Didn’t take that many pictures alas, but here are a few…

photo 4-13

…just arrived…

photo 5-7

…sumptuous lunch

photo 1-37…day…


photo 2-37

was approaching the afternoon…

photo 3-24

before a brief spell of twilight

You type a few sentences, but delete them almost instantaneously. What is there to write? A lot but so little can be written. It’s as if the last 7 years have not existed, and if they did few were privy to it’s content. This blog you ask? A sham, faux in every word. Your nano-stories are probably more real than this is. In fact writing in second person singular is more real than when in first. It would make this post more true than most. Which it is…without saying anything…because all is sub rosa. Coded and written between the lines. Discretion is key – although shamelessly you have none of it.

So you stand there, caught between traffic that is swishing past you. The parallel to your own life couldn’t be more striking. You are caught, in your own design of entrapment. The door is wide open, and your legs are still functioning. And still, you are standing….frozen.

You leave J with a smile, one of those slightly crooked ones. I will be ok. I am ok. Better than I have ever been.

It is true, sort of. Acceptance, giving in…quietly. You board the train. A hug, a kiss on the cheek. You may or may not be back…because that is the one thing you know. You just don’t know…


You set the alarm clock to 6.20 am. It’s not so much of a problem as we just went back to daylight saving. You sleep deep the first hours, but as it’s approaching early morning, you wake up before the alarm goes off. You need not even an hour, knowing your wardrobe like the inside of a glove – despite it being pitch black. Makeup is done in 5.

Coffee is made but you forgot to even take a single sip. You imagine it sitting on the counter – just the way you left it. The train pulls in just as you reach the platform. It’s an uneventful journey to Amsterdam Central Station where you change for the Thalys taking you to Paris Gare du Nord. You should arrive sometime after 11 yet probably closer to noon.

You are sitting in second class and just realise they don’t come by with coffee. You could need one now. In the meantime you shew on an apple, mostly to shew on something. Kill another hour. You could do so much but the week is just somehow off. A holiday would be a good idea, but the prospects look bleak.

Even the clouds are starting to gather. Dull, grey skies, shifting colours. You pass an industrial area, graffiti covered freight trains, chimneys spiting out pollution on an undoubtedly indifferent population. If you were not on your way to Paris you’d think the final destination was No Man’s Land.


It may not be entirely the state I wanted to leave this house in (it’s had its wear and tear over the years), but with my final clean I feel I can leave this house in good hands for another couple. Ever since I decided to add cleaning to my resume, I have gained a lot of respect for people in the this profession. Whilst not huge by any stretch of imagination, 310 m2 cleaning (add to that laundry and ironing) takes at least a day. Since I am picky too, and I’ve been de-cluttering ever since I started this home-project, it would take me most of a Saturday or a Sunday to get the job done. And of course it is not a once-a-week job – no it’s more like it has to be repeated every 4-5 days. I don’t think I’ve had such a busy summer and autumn as this one, to be honest.

I finished around 6 pm, and ran a bath to nourish some tender joints and muscles. I soaked for over an hour, back to reading Meditations whilst listening to a Classic music playlist. Tomorrow is another day, and one which will see me getting up early as I’m off to Paris in the morning. Thus ta ta for now…better catch that beauty sleep :).


Spa wisdom

Heavenly, another hour to the day. I’m sitting here – still in my PJ’s in bed – with some classical music enjoying my shot of morning caffeine, before I continue with shifting through personal clothing items, what should be discarded and what not. I’ve said it many times before, but today is well and truly the last day of domestic work before the move. I shall come back to where is my next stop, but it will be only temporary. For now I will enjoy making this house clean once more, make a decent pea soup which will last for lunch and dinner and top the evening with a bath and a good read. Enjoy your Sunday Sx

Had a beautiful evening with the family yesterday. Classical music, candles, playing some games, a bath (I will enjoy my bathtub for the time I still have one :), and finished it off with the film Derailed. Have no plans for today apart from a leisurely walk into town (no packing or cleaning for once -it’s reserved for tomorrow), dinner at Bonetti and another movie evening on the sofa.

photo 1-36

beautiful artwork from Sebastian


…and a rose for mummy

Just finalised my emails over a bigmac and two diet pills. Down to 33 mails which all requires action. It’s quite terrible actually, but with school holidays, illness and the move it’s been a matter of juggling priorities. Well with 4 hours to go before the weekend, let’s roll!


It’s something of a wet and stray dog walking into the office. Well TGI Friday! My schedule is still clear so it’s just a matter of getting on with priorities and emails. As for countdown, it’s a week left to the move. I am actually planning with the exception of some last bit of packing to enjoy this weekend in the house I could call mine for nearly a decade. Why not, as it’s a busy week ahead. Monday I’m off to Paris, Tuesday and Wednesday I’m in the office. Thursday and Friday are reserved for the move. I actually wish this month will be over sooner rather than later. Sx


I know I look like a wet dog, but it’s actually a wet rabbit fur coat (this is not a PC blog,

and comment field doesn’t work ;).

… she lives a very quiet life. She gets up usually around 7 am, makes breakfast for her son and coffee for herself. After getting her son ready and waving him off, she usually does a work-out. Always the same routine…she likes routines. Her life is utter chaos so best to hold onto something dependable. Sometimes she works out earlier. In fact it is often on a personal to-do-list – rising early…preferably by 6 am. But she is too tired, and give in. It is in fact not like her at all. But then the good characters she once possessed are all but gone.

She goes to work, has meetings, make calls. She picks up her son at exactly quarter past three. When she gets home she makes him something to eat and depending on the day and needs, she will either play some games with him, cook or work. She tries to have an early dinner. It’s better for her digestion. She once had a health scare, which makes her take a bit extra care of herself…sleep, food, exercise….the usual.

Her symptoms from that episode are still lingering. She won’t say she suffers, as suffering is relative and she doesn’t like to be seen as a victim…whatever the ailment or infliction. But it is the reason she may walk with a slight limp or even loose her balance momentarily. Nerve damage…it is what it is, and in a way she is happy she has it. Life took on a different meaning ever since.

She makes sure her son has a bath, plays a few games in bed…often Memory…his memory is better than hers. She reads a bedtime story which may be followed by a history documentary, but then her son is already falling asleep. She continues working in bed. She never, I repeat NEVER watch TV. In fact she can’t stand this hailed piece of electronic. Everything that is watched belongs invariably to two categories: documentaries or films. They are always watched on her Mac…a 13 inch, compact device. It suits in her handbag with ease. Often of the Mulberry kind.

She is a terrible chef. She can’t cook even if her life depended on it. She would consider herself a good friend but she has difficulties with discussing issues. After all it is true that “he is probably just not that into you”. She would advice her fellow sisters to divorce their heart from their mind. She has, and she feels so much better for it. So she loves…with her mind only…the only exception being her children.

She favours Chianti over Bordeaux, but yet considers herself a francophile. She is also a bibliophile, although she has been slacking on that department as of late. She has difficulties with emotions, and need distance from people. Physically as well as emotionally. Perhaps its down to her Scandinavian roots. She once read about the correlation of density per square kilometre versus personal space. Only the Inuit people would make a fair opponent.

She likes to play games – not the computer variety mind – in fact she de-installed Candy Crush, albeit finding it a psychologically fascinating experience. She likes games when she has an advantage which gives a certain kick…chess, billiard (although she didn’t pay much attention to the rules).

She has a fascination for psychopaths, perhaps a too personal one some might say. But well and truly it stems from her childhood library being filled with medical and psychoanalytical literature.
So she finds the bizarre, the gruesome, the dark and loathsome strangely thrilling. It is perhaps the time her heart does engage with her mind. It makes her sad. Yes…melancholy she can often feel, but it rarely goes deep enough beyond minor tremors. She needs to listen to classical music for hour on hour and read the saddest of stories to get that spark again. The proof that she has feelings – like everybody else – after all…

Oh, and right now, she is wearing Shocking by Schiaparelli.