Home again. How does that feel? Strange. Detached, I would say. Arriving at Schiphol was great, being greeted by and later having a drink with José and Thea who helped Marcel pick me and my bags up. Strangely seeing my own home didn't do much for me. Basically it felt like the next appartment. I didn't really miss a home, or my home. Funny that. Feel I have been transplanted into a new film set and have to adjust to it. We're doing my life, here, but it doesn't yet feel like it. More like a guest appearance in somebody elses show: "ah, so this is where I live? Right. Nice appartment". Of course, I was a bit out of it, after ten hours on the flight. We'll see how that develops the coming days, when the jet lag wears off. Sitting on the roof terrace was nice though. Until now I have forgotten to put my mobile on, so I think I'll start there and see.
And then on, first to the new Amsterdam public library and then on to Hilversum for the media library.
3 comments:
Welkom terug Tom!
Ik heb van je verhalen genoten.
Peter R
Just one little correction: the Potty Party was ours. Ellen was 7 and wrote a book called "I was Seven in '75" which included this story and many others. Unfortunately, it's out of print - but her latest book "I Love Led Zeppelin" is still available.
I should notify my pal about your post.
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