Monthly Archives: September 2015

Two days flashes by like the lights of cars in a fast lane. So rapidly you don’t even register them. Until you finally sit down for some food in a shabby pub on the Arlanda airport and minute details suddenly appears…like the classic “Girl you’ll be a woman soon” streaming through an open window in the Stockholm night. Or the sound of a juice bottle cap popping whilst you sit alone in your hotel room screening through your emails.

They invariably end up in one of your three priority inboxes, filed or deleted. Whilst you type you also realize it was a long time ago you had a manicure. They appear shipped and uneven. Just like your hair which is in a desperate need of some highlights. Ah well, you muse, you’ve gone from high maintenance to low maintenance. A humbling experience, and one that was most likely necessary too.

Where did time go?

“Girl you’ll be a woman soon”.

A little too soon…you just couldn’t find the stop button.

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Always can recommend Fem Sma Hus. cantarell soup and rain deer for dinner (yes I ate Santa’s little helper – bad karma for the rest of the week!).

Now onto packing and meetings. With my new Phillipa K sweather :).

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…a few minutes before I’m off for dinner. The city is already transforming

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Ripasso Superiore

….good to see you again. Good to be back at Hotel Dimplomat. It’s a pretty packed day, so good morning all (and yes I got a good night sleep given the earlier intermezzo). Now off for a shower…

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skies are hanging low on this Monday morning

You are counting down the minutes. You are terribly late for a flight that is less than an hour away. There is nothing to do….of course you know….just go on auto-pilot and you’ll make it to the gate. It is Schiphol after all, the distances vast at times, but logical. You run, and run….thankfully you are wearing a pair of battered ballerinas….When you arrive at the check-in there is a queue that looks to last for another 30 minutes. Your prayers are answered when one desk opens an exclusive line destination Sthlm. You have exactly 47 minutes to go.

42 minutes to takeoff

You have just checked in. Tongue traces the inners of your mouth. Capillaries burst in that sprint. Your palate detects iron. Hmm, probably something you need given the amount of stress your system is subjected to. OK, that was a bad a joke.

“Where is D66?” You make a mental note that it is also a political party in NL. Would you ever have voted for them? You are in fact liberal….yes not centre….you are liberal…and a libertine at that.

“That way Miss” a pretty brunette points in the direction right. In stark contrast to your own ugliness. Or perhaps beauty….your definition of it…and that is of course highly subjective.

You start with what you hope will be your last sprint. But within minutes your legs are failing. You literally don’t feel them, and this induces vertigo and confusion. In an attempt to find your way, you stop, read the signs and decide to dare the escalators. This is tricky as you have a life-long battle with this piece of logistic equipment. You known damn well what happens if one of those metal stairs break. You get chewed up…it’s like battling the jaws of a great white. Yeah, you know…just by being curious (you could tell a million stories from the obscure to the obscene…that’s why people both love and despise you).

But set aside this minor detour, you are on for a bigger one…you just don’t know it yet. 30 seconds later and you stand on new soil. One level up, but no D. At this point your body is going into complete numbness and your mind into total melt-down. Elevator, lift…you need one. There are two, one for staff and the other one is out of order. You can only take the stairs down. Luggage dragging behind you, and your right hand steady on the banister, you descent to what feels like hell.

D59-D87, direction right. You can’t run, and you sound like you are about to suffer an asthma attack (luckily you don’t suffer from that affliction at least). You reach the security within another 5 minutes.

26 minutes to takeoff

You arrive at the security and prep yourself for what is expected of you. Laptop, iPhone, belt.

“Madame, please don’t forget your sunglasses.” You just gained another 10 years in seniority you muse.

You place them neatly on your Moschino jacket, despite feeling like you are about to faint. They must believe you are a drug courier. If it wasn’t for your impeccable travel record, the alarm systems would be going off at this point.

You fail to raise your arms properly nor step on the assigned spots for the obligatory body scan.

“Are you ok?” you hear a voice.

“No”. No are definitely not ok.

“Do you need to sit down? Can you tell what is wrong?”

“Flight” you are hissing, waiving your boarding card. “I can’t feel my legs” you manage.

The security guard steadies you, and you grasp his arm like it’s the last thing you will ever hold before the plane goes down. Yes, you are being slightly over dramatic not to say apocalyptic.

“Where is D66?”

Again it’s right. How funny, this is as far right as D66 would ever venture.

“How far?”

“About 7 minutes if you run.”

“I can’t run” you decry trying to look him straight in the eyes, but failing miserably.

“All right, do you need any help? We can get someone to escort you?”

“No it’s ok” you decline the offer as politely as you can muster. You are NOT in a wheelchair yet.

18 minutes to takeoff

You walk as fast as you can and thankfully D66 is not that far away (perhaps a new party slogan – never far away, a contract worth aiming for LOL). Just another set of escalators and then one of those walking treadmills (What do you call them in correct English?).

You reach the gate. It’s one level down and so once more you step on ene of those monsterous, logistic devices. About three minutes later and you join the queue. For some reason half of the passenger list decided to turn up late. Lucky you.

When you finally sink down in your seat, the 737 taxing out to the runway, you feel a cold breeze on your flustered cheeks.

It was a long time since you were home. You can’t wait to escape this madness…

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There used to be a time, where at the end of the evening I would say to myself “ah well, tomorrow is another day”. It seemed appropriate after a day that started off in good spirits but perhaps lacked in places. Of course eventually there was no good or bad and the roller coaster became as bland as vanilla ice cream.

This leads me to one conclusion….I like vanilla ice cream. In fact if I would have vanilla ice cream for the rest of my life I would (or at least should) never complain. Add to that a day off, 8 hours of sleep without interruption and I would thank my lucky star. Instead now work is ever mounting and I rarely get out of my PJ’s let alone into the office.

On a good note, tempo has been somewhat more relaxing today. It was needed since I didn’t get to bed before 3 am (work and the little man going through a growth spurt kept me awake). When the alarm clock went off 4 hours later, it felt for a moment a flu was about to hit me. Luckily it did not.

Ah well, tomorrow is another day, right? And on a good note the flowers looks fantastic and Sebastian is happy as a lark with his new haircut.

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Golden boy

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autumn bouquet

Apart from discovering a wonderful new restaurant in Zandvoort, I came upon a new furry friend who didn’t want to let go of my company. Felt extra bad as I made a slight detour into the world of carnivores only hours earlier (but it was a delicious entrecôte with béarnaise that passed my lips…no regrets).

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This is what I love the most….autumn, in my PJ’s and clearing up work. Don’t get me wrong I would much rather have time on my hand and go to the cinema with the kids, but right now this is not so, so I am trying to utilise my free time in the best way possible – having a dig at those 3 inboxes of mine (yes prioritised to urgent, 24h and week). Instead family fun is typically spent in the evenings, holidays and a couple of times a week Sebastian gets out early from school. Like yesterday….cooking this amazing dish of oven vegetables together with pheasant and duck. It easily served for 5 people and we were all starving! For those of you that want an easy recipe here is something I would recommend for you:

Serves 6 as a side dish

1 medium onion
1 medium or 2 small carrots
1 zucchini
1 eggplant
2 small potatoes
3 sweet potatoes
2 tomatoes
1 red or yellow sweet pepper
3 cloves of garlic
1 pumpkin
Salt and pepper to taste
Herbs – dried or fresg (sage, thyme, rosemary, wild fennel, basil are all good choices – either individually or combined in some form)
4 to 5 tablespoons of olive oil, plus more to taste

1. Preheat the oven to 375 F (180 C). Quarter and slice the onion thinly. Dice all the vegetables into pieces that are approximately the same size (no larger than 1/2 inch). Pile the vegetables into a baking dish so that the vegetables lie a few inches thick. Season with salt, pepper and herbs to taste and then pour the olive oil over the vegetables. Mix thoroughly but gently – you don’t want to destroy the tomatoes before the dish goes into the oven. Now check the vegetables to make sure they are well-coated and glistening with oil. If need be, add more oil.

2. Put the dish in the oven and cook for 45 minutes to an hour. Halfway through the cooking process, remove the dish from the oven and very gently stir the vegetables so that the ones at the bottom come to the top. Towards the end of the cooking process, stir a second time. Remove from the oven and let cool slightly. Check for seasoning and serve.

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vegetables are just about to go into the oven

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preparing the meat with a lot of peppar

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after an hour, ready to serve 

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along with the pheasant and the duck

… and went. The last bit of summer I got to experience this year I am certain. Now back to work, and in fact a PJ-fireplace-working-on-the-couch weekend awaits.

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wonderful view…I even got to meditate and do yoga on the rocks

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Gazpacho is a constant when visiting the Balearic islands

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Back home….it’s grey and gloomy

Premiere Vision is one of the top Fabric, Trend and Manufacturing sourcing exhibition in the world. Today, I flew from Amsterdam to Paris Orly, and made a long transfer to Charles De Gaulle. I could have fly straight the CDG airport but Orly airport is much cheaper! The exhibition is always stylishly presented for business and student visitors. I love the fact that many stands have halo like lighting above and all these artistic display that show a brief products of what most exhibitors does. I’ve met so many wonderful sales person and manufacturers who are very helpful and intrigued me with exciting tech yarns that are surprisingly beneficial. My favourite one was Lenzing fibre company where they reveal incredibly soft fabric that made from wood pulps called Modal and Tencel. I’ve know this particular material for years that have natural mix properties, best know for hygienic, good moisture control and super silky soft texture. At the end my journey today, I am exhausted! But I can not wait to order these fabrics samples to get them prototype!

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Entrance shuttle bus..

Recycle cotton

Recycle cotton waste including cotton shells and used garment by  cottoninc.com

Top view all stands

Hall 5 & 6 view – Fabric and Manufacture stands

yARN COLOUR SWATCH

Yarns colour stories by dbtrend.com

Yarn exhibit stands

 Tech yarns display from exhibitors

 Gold badge

My name just fitted my gold card..

Knit solution display

Knit solution display

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The show is over, time to head home.

ou are looping the Penny Dreadful signature on Spotify whilst taxing on the runway. Goodbye Low Countries, welcome Mare Nostrum. Perhaps you should listen to something more upbeat but how could you? You are after all a melancholic soul. You meditate on death (yes the ancient Greeks and Romans suggested this being a daily habit), and when the thunder roars your mind sends subliminal messages….just do it!

You think back to the last weeks…well months…they felt like years, and still so raw. You have never felt this alone – weak and pained, yet so alive. It’s a paradox you are battling with on a permanent basis. And so those closest to you it seems. You can grasp their perplexed reactions…as you are raging against them all….like a rabid dog, doomed to only have known the backhand of God.

Yes you are a dark soul. If you had a different belief system, you would have been ancient. An archaic matter, transitioned into new incarnations…almost indetectably as the years passes. An Orlando.

And so you have to admit. You are drawn to many but never quite make the connection unless you meet that soul who speaks your language. It’s just a pity they rarely do…

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