Stories, Rhymes and Brain fallout.

  I belong to a group of people known as the worriers. The people who let their day be decided by the news, and the news is always bad. Okay, the news might end on some uplifting story or sports achievement, but before you get to that, you have to sit through a half hour of doom and gloom. War, drought and forest fires, megalomaniac tyrants, genocides, crime, and economic downturn forecasts. By the time it gets to the one or two ‘good news’ items, I’m already convinced of the world’s pending doom, be it through Climate change or violence. Not that I can actually do anything about any of it. My grand contribution is to recycle, avoid buying useless junk, nod at the neighbour, eat fresh vegetables now and then, and pretend I’m not judging everyone. Supposedly this creates ‘positive energy’, whatever that means. It’s hard to keep up the act when the world seems determined to set itself on fire just to see what happens. So I worry. Meanwhile, in my immediate vicinity, life is carrying ...

  Walking. I love to walk. It’s the most painful of my pastimes, but I still love it. If you follow my blog or social media, you probably know I have two new knees and two new hips. My legs aren’t what they used to be. Nothing really is after seventy, and I’m three years past that. My bad joints are a family gift—rheumatoid arthritis and a couple of rough tackles from my amateur football days ended any hope of a pain-free old age. I can feel it catching up with me. I don’t expect to be free from pain; lots of people deal with joint problems. I’m lucky to live in Western Europe, where we have good health care. As my dad used to say, ‘at least when your body hurts you know you’re alive’. That’s one way to look at it. Still, the pain after a walk can have me cussing. That’s when painkillers help, thankfully. I also have blood issues, so I take blood thinners every day and can only use certain painkillers. When I go on holiday, I bring my painkillers along—one a day keeps the agony awa...

  Van IS naar insuline en suikers. Meer mensen sterven door diabetes dan door terrorisme, veel meer, feit. En toch hebben wij meer angst voor terroristen dan voor suiker. Het enige verschil is dat terroristen ervoor zorgen dat er  plots een einde komt aan jouw leven en suiker zorgt voor een langzame maar even zekere dood en een iets zwaardere doodskist. Er zouden veiligheidsagenten moeten waken aan de ingang van elke bakkerij of snoepwinkel als je de cijfers naast elkaar zet. En toch worden we zelfs via allerlei reclamefilmpjes en advertenties aangemoedigd om meer te snoepen en ongezond te eten. Het zou hetzelfde zijn als de overheid wapens en explosieven zou geven aan terreurgroepen en belastingvermindering zou geven om nog meer mensen te doden. Vanwaar de onevenwichtige angst? De ene zaait angst, de andere zaait een goed gevoel, body positivity en onaangename bijwerkingen. Raar toch: de doodsaantallen door diabetes en gerelateerde aandoeningen zijn enorm, en toch worden de b...

  Thursday, the 7th of May ’26. A simple cold A blocked nose, a cough, regular bouts of sneezing and a horrible slime that should be spit out. A regular cold, nothing more and nothing less, leading to sleepless nights and interference in my daily routine. I won’t die from it; it will have no long-lasting effects on my general health; it’s just 48 hours of my life put on hold while some invasive virus fights it out with my bodily defence system. I’m just the vessel that hosts this tussle. I drink hot tea, clear my nose every 5 minutes, dress up warm but keep the house well ventilated, and wait until it passes. We call it a cold, and yet I sweat my way through the night. The absurdity of life, us humans thinking of ourselves as masters of the world - check - the universe even, and yet the wrong little virus entering our system can annoy us no end, some can even kill us or eventually wipe us out. We’re only as strong as the latest virus is weak. Recently, we have all been made aware o...

  Who knows the true purpose of life? Should we spend our lives seeking meaning, or is it enough to finish each day content? Is life a ‘struggle’? Or is it a ‘fun ride’? The rich never appear satisfied or whole; they always pursue more. The poor struggle and savour the rare day of abundance, carefree and creating memories. We hurry, we search, without direction or purpose. We chase ease and calm through material possessions and fleeting pleasures. We fill our homes and minds; thought turns into our adversary. So we eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow reality and bills will arrive. All the while, time looks on and smiles. Only time knows when it is ‘up’, watching as everything unfolds. Ultimately, only time will be your enemy. ‘Time will tell’, but never be told when to end.

 I’m a bit disappointed tonight. The seven o’clock news showed a story about a ‘fireball’ that lit up the sky last night, but I missed it. The meteor was a couple of meters long and eventually broke apart, landing just over the border in Germany. Luckily, no one was hurt. They showed some footage of a gutter that got hit, but the rest of the pieces landed in gardens and woods. Apparently, those small rocks can be worth a lot of money. At least it didn’t land on a pebble beach in Germany. That was about the only ‘fun’ news. Everything else was about Trump and Netanyahu’s war on Iran, the possible fallout in the Middle East, the stock markets, oil prices, and last but not least, the fact that people are dying. Watching the conflict between Iran, Israel, and the U.S. is tough. I don’t like Iran because of its human rights record and support for local terrorist groups, if what we hear is true. But I’m also starting to really dislike Israel for its harsh treatment of Palestinians and an...