If you've always dreamed of being crushed to death wearing an inflatable crown and oversized sunglasses, please feel free to join the rest of the world in Amsterdam this Saturday.
At dawn on King's Day, 27 April, police run house-to-house checks to ensure that everyone is outdoors, wearing at least one orange novelty item (underwear doesn't count) and carrying at least one six-pack. Anyone caught not smiling is jailed and has to help clean up on 28 April.
Dutch people who have run over animals in the previous year don outrageous costumes and try to sell bric-a-brac to passersby in an effort to shame themselves and thereby clear their conscience. You are permitted to loudly mock these people, increasing their chance of absolution.
Every year, Dutch people who are unemployed are forced to take a two-week crash course during which they are taught to play a musical instrument, so that they can earn some cash on King's Day. These people have the option of sending their children on this course if they wish.
Contrary to popular belief, not all Dutch people have an innate or god-given ability to steer boats, and despite very strict health and safety laws, no one really knows how many people can actually fit into a boat before it sinks. Aptly, many Dutch metaphors involve drowning.
If you have any further questions about King's Day, please feel free to post it below. This offer is also open to Dutch people, many of whom have only a sketchy knowledge of their own traditions and their sinister history. Did you know, for instance...
...that the annual celebration of the Queen's or King's birthday was a simple ploy to root out elements of society that were not loyal to the Dutch crown? Even today, you may still be accosted in the street by drunken revellers asking why you aren't dressed in orange.
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Now that I've returned to translating my mother's war stories, my pious grandmother, a former officer in the Salvation Army, has resumed her bible lessons from beyond the grave, laid down in her letters to my mother, such as this one dispatched from Amsterdam on 23 June 1944:
Darling child – I'm taking a quick break to write this down, in the hope that this letter will reach you before Sunday. When it comes to travel plans nowadays, it seems wise to ensure you have prepared your last will and testament...
...because there's a good chance it may be your final journey. One never knows whether the parting will be sudden, but this fact no longer seems serious to us, partly because we have grown accustomed to the risk. However, one does well to remember:
In the summer of 1942, a Jewish haberdasher from the Dutch town of Zwolle sought refuge in the Trophy Room of Zwaluwenburg Manor, which was then a psychiatric institution for women and girls. Michel Leo (Max) Hes meticulously recorded the mounting tension in his journal. |🧵
Things culminated on 20 November 1942, when several girls ran off into the woods during an evening walk, ending up at the German army camp, where they not only told an officer they were being abused, but also that there were Jewish people hiding at the institution.
That same night, Zwaluwenburg Manor was raided by the local constabulary, acting on the orders of the Wehrmacht. Fortunately, one of the constables asked his wife to cycle to Zwaluwenburg and warn the staff, allowing fifteen Jewish refugees to seek shelter elsewhere.
Winter only officially starts today in the Netherlands and we would like to thank the people of South Africa for looking after it for the first two-thirds of December.
The South African government has announced plans to make the country a global leader in poor weather storage for colder countries. “We have already signed an MoU with Finland, which will see most of their March weather taking place in the greater Bloemfontein area.”
One of Europe’s largest weather exchange services, AutumnTransplants™, which transports inclement weather in large cooling units aboard container ships, has announced that it will be opening a major weather handling and slush puppy production facility near Oudtshoorn.
It is a great tragedy that movies like #SixMinutesToMidnight still get made, mainly because there are many more worthwhile, important and fascinating stories to be told about WWII, set in the dark forests and deep valleys of a terrible world far from The Little Island Kingdom.
Thirteen hours later and I’m still seething at the way this cardboard-cut-out, shitely-scripted rush job not only jeopardised my love for Eddie Izzard and Judi Dench, but also took a potentially powerful story and reduced it to a panto version of Murder at Hollycock Manor.
Here’s a story set in the summer of 1942. The fact that you’re looking at this intimate snapshot of six teenagers, basking on a flat roof in Amsterdam, means at least one of them survived the war and saved the picture.
In May 1943, a 20-year-old Jewish woman was arrested in Amsterdam and transported more than 1000 kilometres by train to be murdered, because the man who had given her refuge was betrayed to the Nazis by his vindictive ex-wife. The man survived Sachsenhausen and Neuengamme, but...
...died at the age of 45 in 1955. The vindictive ex remarried after the war and lived happily (presumably) ever after until the summer of 1981, when she passed away at the venerable age of 73.
If nothing else, writing non-fiction will teach you there is no such thing as karma.
What interesting to note is that the policeman on desk duty reported the arrest in detail, not only including dates of birth, addresses and full names of all involved, but also the service numbers of the arresting officers, who will have known what fate awaited the young woman.