Once upon a time, I spoke a lot of Dutch. Probably because I was born in The Netherlands. And in those days, before I moved to the UK, I did many literary things. For instance, I was in charge of my own literary ‘salon’, like the French had in the 18th century. My cosy salon was situated in the centre of Amsterdam. I delivered talks and lectures on philosophers and writers of fiction. I led several book groups as well.
However, nowadays I communicate mostly in English. Because I have been married to an Englishman (bless him). Yes, been married, because he sadly passed away. And when your spouse dies, the marriage is being dissolved. Therefore, I am not married any more.
But in the years before he died, he taught me the ropes. About the English and their habits, about the pride of being English, about their naughty peculiarities, about swearing and no-no’s, and about council-tax. And one could say, that he planted me in Bude.
So, here I am, living in Bude. A lovely beach town. Special in many ways. Last year (or the year before?) Bude had the most hours of sunshine in the UK. Its geology is unique. A surfer’s paradise. One can find here the ocean, a harbour, a canal (with locks), a river, a lake and a sea swimming pool. The people who live here are special in many ways as well.
So yes, here I am, Dutchy in Cornwall. Now what will I do with the rest of my life… Will I manage to build again a social network, or will I disappear into a black hole… That’s what I’m going to write about.