Bob

Bob has to be seen to be believed. Could it be that behind this young 'talent' there's a fantastically pushy showbiz mum, determined to cultivate the next Andre Hazes?

Full bellies

Christmas Dinner 2005

Christmas Glamour

Joy to the World!

Santa spread a little of his Christmas magic yesterday by dropping a pile of glistening pasnips at THREE of the Albert Cuyp market stalls. My mission is now complete and I can die a happy woman. Who needs expensive gifts at Christmas eh?

The root-vegetable-induced celebrations didn't last for long however, as Peter has been called into work (some emergency technical failure) and I've just spent the last hour cleaning an old oven that we've retreived from the shed. After buying a huge fresh turkey I was dismayed to find that it's so fat there was no room left in its shiny new baking tray for the roast potatoes. As we've only got a little plug-in combi oven I was forced to scrape off the life-forms growing in the old one and use it as a reserve. I have a horrible feeling that the tatties will have a faint aroma of 'mouldy shed' about them, but I'm trying not to dwell on it.

The Annual Hunt for the Elusive Dutch Parsnip

As far as I can see, the Dutch are pretty-much into their root vegetables. Offer a Dutchman a nice turnip, carrot or beetroot and his face will light up with joy. So why can't a poor English girl find a few humble parsnips for her Christmas dinner? I traipsed round many-a market stall and shop last year but my search was fruitless (or should I say vegetable-less, ha ha).

Due to an extremely comprehensive English-Dutch dictionary I am armed with the superior parsnip-hunting knowledge this year. The Dutch call them 'pastinaak' apparently. If they have a word for them they must sell them somewhere, surely? Or has no one seen a parsnip in the Lowlands since the Middle Ages?

I certainly have been (unhappily) parsnip-less since moving here. According to a stall holder at my local market (the Albert Cuyp Markt) they have been known to sell them, but not at the moment. I tried to explain the importance of parsnip-eating for the English at this time of year, but she didn't seem too impressed.

The hunt for this elusive vegetable has become a bit of an obsessive mission for me. I have asked around at work. I have had several Dutch people phoning their mothers to make enquiries on my behalf. Still no joy, but I'm trying to remain optimistic, after all, it IS Christmas.

I'm Auntie Lucy!

My brave sis has made me an auntie! I'm so proud of her!

Little Oscar entered this world at some un-godly hour this morning, a few days ahead of his due date (Christmas Eve). He obviously wanted to be here in time to hang his little stocking by the fireplace. I'm very glad he's appeared early, because Christmas Eve is a crappy birthday to have! I think I must have been having (sympathy) kittens, because I didn't sleep a wink all night. Maybe it's a 'twin thing'. I'm just glad I din't get the labour pains...

Proud dad Neil called me this morning with the news. Mum and little one (obviously) exhausted but doing well. Can't wait to see the little nipper and spoil him rotten.

White Stuff

Thanks to the lovely people at Go-Go tours, Peter and I enjoyed a three days in the mountains last weekend. Yippeee.. a chance to try out my new gear on real slopes (Les Deux Alpes in France).

Going snowboarding on the first week of the season is a bit of a gamble. Peter was checking out the webcams a couple of weeks ago and was disgruntled to notice that it looked like a scene from 'The Sound of Music'. Luckily by the time we arrived it was winter-wonderland time, with snow as far as the eye could see.

After 18 hours on a bus we were ready to stretch our legs on the slopes, but the 100kph winds sweeping the pistes meant that all lifts (other than the nursery slope drags) were closed. Ah well, there was a chance to warm up on the baby runs and back to the hotel ('La Sherpa') to prop up the bar and thaw out. I was trying (with difficulty) to order in French, until someone pointed out that all the hotel staff were Dutch. I wondered why the barman raised and eyebrow when I ordered a 'chocolate chaud' instead of a 'warme chocolademelk'. There were further opportunities for my to speak my own (very bad) Dutch as I was the only 'non-Nederlander' in the place. Very good practice!

15 cm of fresh snow was dumped down on friday night (I couldn't help staring at the fat flakes falling outside the window as we sat down to some delicious alpine grub). By Saturday morning the outside world was muffled by piles of gorgeous powder and I couldn't wait to get out on the board. It was great to be up there at last!

On Sunday the snow conditions were nearly as good but the light was so flat it was difficult to see more than a few inches infront of your nose. I had a couple of moments of complete disorientation where I managed to perform a few impromptu acrobatic feats through the air, but luckily managed to make it down to the village without any broken bones. My new jacket kept me toastie warm despite the 'minus lots' temperatures and I was happy to discover that I'm not such a 'scaredy-cat' as last time I attempted boarding.

For pictures click HERE.