Heeeeeey. I didn't mean to take a break from the blog, but here we are. There are several reasons for why it happened, and as it’s now been so long, my question to myself recently has been “Where do I even start?”. I know where I should, but that post will take a while to put together, and will be pain/joyful to write. So I’m just dipping my toe in, giving a life sign, waving hello. I’m here, all is good, and it’s time to take the time to be here again. Hope you’re good.
Woohoo - summer’s over! Thank fudge for that. Never have I ever wanted it over so quickly; maybe it was the intense heat, the drought, the looooong days with not much going on, but boy am I glad that it’s DONE. I’ve come across a few articles in the past couple of weeks with titles like “How to make summer last” or “Hold on to that summer feeling” and I’ve been shaking my head, feeling like I live on another planet, one were I want routines back, the cold and the dark and the quiet, and hibernation. Weird - I know. I think I just have three words for it, and that’s “cold water swimming”. It’s changed my life and has changed me. Summers are kind of a drag now.
I’ll tell you what didn't help either. I missed out on our first holiday abroad together as a family in 2 &1/2 years. Something that I’d so intensely looked forward to, found stressful to book many moons ago, and in the end managed to clear Covid by one day before departure (!). We were due to go to the Dolomites, back to the same place we went in 2008, but this time with Oomoo. It was going to be amazing to be in the mountains again, showing him all the crazy beautiful places there, but it was not to be, not for me anyway. Buddy had been poorly for about a week before we were due to go, and right up to the last minute we didn’t know whether the holiday was a go or a no. Seven hours before our cab was due to pick us up for a ridiculously early flight, it was decided that I’d have to stay behind and look after him, so I unpacked my suitcase, hugely disappointed. But you know, in the scheme of things, not a disaster, just really crap timing. Anyway, we FaceTimed daily and I got sent pictures like this, which made me both happy and sad (that’s O over there, enjoying the view).
Buddy’s fine now, the meds I had to give him twice a day for a week sorted him out. I was also happy that I could look after him during the insanely hot heatwave that hit us mid-July, making sure he stayed in the cooler parts of the house, because look at him - that dude is basically wearing a fur coat 24/7.
19th of July, 7.29am. The day when we hit the highest temperature ever recorded in the UK, +40.3c (104.5F). I’d already spent the previous day indoors in the coolest room of the house and not moving much. I didn’t want to repeat it, so I went out for an early morning walk in the park, which is what everyone with dogs were doing too, before it got too hot. See the tall grass to the left of the picture? It should be a deep green and not a fire hazard. It’s no understatement to feel like we’ve gone past the point of no return with climate change now. It feels surreal to live in a time which is so amazingly shit on so many fronts, all at the same time.
But you all know that. And you didn’t come here to feel down, so let’s change the subject. This is the one picture this summer that I took, that I felt properly excited about taking. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does it’s a real rush. It’s of course totally subjective, and you might find this picture meh, but in my eyes it ticks a lot of my boxes; a graphic shadow, nice colours, an anonymous child, and catching that second of her hand floating in the air before she grabs hold of the next handrail. AND that she’s under a “sun” wearing a sun hat. Noice.
Actually, going through the pictures for this post I remembered that the summer wasn’t all that bad. There were lots of good things, like feeding my eyes and soul with some great exhibitions. Really enjoyed Fashioning Masculinites at the V&A; I would wear all of these outfits (but then I do wear a lot of mens’ clothing as they’re so much nicer, but actually these are quite feminine or at least unisex 🙃). The two on the left are underwear from the 1700’s (I’ve got a nightie very similar to the first one -ha!).
Edward Munch at the Courthauld was another highlight. Very small but very good.
Also made our way up to Cambridge to see Hockney’s Eye at the Fitzwilliam Museum, which was absolute genius. I love that man’s art and mind so much.
On another boiling hot day me and my gal pals and Oomoo went to Oxford to see Ruth Asawa at Modern Art Oxford. I only realised looking back at my post from the London Asawa exhibition two years ago that this one was way smaller and not as broad. Still, it was great to see and the perfect excuse for an Oxford day trip.
One Friday evening me and my gals A & D went to see Football: Designing the Beautiful Game at the Design Museum, an exhibition that I initially was going to pass on, but after having checked out the website I realised that it actually looked really good. We all loved it, especially as A & D are graphic designers and I used to be one.
It’s not often that I bring O with me to exhibitions anymore; now that he’s old enough to say ‘No thanks’, rather than have no choice and get dragged along, he usually does. But in a long stretch of not doing much, and needing to get out of the house, I knew that he might be a bit more interested in Futureshock at 180 The Strand. There were only two good things in there, and this was one of them, Daydream v.6 by Nonotak. Like one of the best things I’ve seen in ages. I’m glad that you weren’t allowed to go inside it or it would be ruined by everyone capturing for their socials. Oh wait.
Last but not least I saw Etel Adnan’s Colour as Language at the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam a couple of weeks ago. Adnan was a published writer and poet who had been painting for 50+ years, and found fame with her art at 87 a few years back with her colourful and minimal abstract paintings, and well deserved too. If that’s not inspiring I don’t know what is.
What else?
well, there were two summer haircuts,
a very tiny bit of wildlife on our front room window right before bed one evening
lots and lots of watching TV
and staying inside away from the heat.
There were also a few day trips; one with A & D to Cambridge,
one with the guys to Brighton
and one earlier mentioned outing to Oxford. I enjoyed all of them immensely. I like the pace of a day trip.
There was also a trip to Kew Gardens right before school started,
as well as one week in Amsterdam, which we all got to go on, although Mr Famapa had to leave a few days early for a job in Warsaw.
And here’s a morning after a sleepover a week ago, right before the house schedule moved into autumn mode. Hope your summer was a-okay, and if you like, tell me about it :)
I’m the sort of person that goes to bed on holiday with the camera next to me, in case I wake up in the morning and see something I want to take a picture of. You never know what you might wake up seeing.
Z and D having a little early morning chat. We were surprisingly fast for four people to get out of the house and on our way.
Tourist pic time!
A managed to prop her phone up on Z’s bike so we could all be in the picture - in front of the windmill. Came out really good!
I wanted to repeat the perfect Sunday (on a Sunday again - nice!) so off we cycled to Het Schoolhuis in Holysloot for some lunch.
Got the best table in the garden. Thanks Z for the pic :0)
After lunch we picked out a scenic spot and meditated together. One of my favourite memories of the whole trip.
We then went for a little walk in the ‘hood. D & A spotted
this guy, before we did.
Time to cycle back into town.
This man caught my eye, and clocked me taking his pic, and I made sure I smiled at him, because that’s what a polite person does. Makes for a nice shared moment rather than being a picture taking robot that just continues on without acknowledging the other person involved.
Had to stop and take another picture on Haarlemmerstraat, this time of this building that looked heavily influenced by Alphonse Mucha.
See what happens when you smile and take pictures of strangers? You get smiled at back.
Walking through Westerpark this caught my eye. Kudos to anyone who bothers to bring a hammock to a park.
Our destination? Rainarai of course. We tried to dent the massive portions as much as we could, and delicious as usual it was too. I know it looks like A is ‘gramming’ here, but she isn’t. Not everyone carries a big camera innit.
And on the way home we had to stop and get off our bikes to look at the incredible full moon. Alas, this lady doesn't travel with a zoom, but take my word for it, it was huge.
On the Monday morning the peonies that Z had bought had opened up; I’ve never seen peonies this colour in the UK.
This was the day that we went to the Rijks, and moseying around the Jordaan afterwards we had a nosy in this empty house. Some jammy sod must’ve moved in there by now.
While we’re looking at houses, let’s look at some more. These are at the edge of the Red Light district, in fact just around the corner from Ons Lieve Heer.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been to Amsterdam by now, but I always do a little research before I go, and somewhere I came across pictures of this bar, In’t Aepjen. Amsterdam’s bruin cafés (pubs) have never really been on my radar before, but I remember walking past one that looked really cosy last time me and Oomoo where there (in fact the interior of it inspired me to get rid of our white walls at home), and thinking that I’d really like to go to one one day. Well, child free this time round we went, and lovely it was too. It was very small, but not packed and loud like a pub can be, and we tried some jenever for the first time, which gets served all the way to the top of the glass, like in the picture to the left. You then have to kind of bow into the glass to have your first sip. Fun!
D saying something… surprising/shocking? Whatever it was I missed out, but it was worth it. Love the reactions.
We only stayed for one drink, and this was what met us as we came out. ‘Hope for another life’ it says, according to Google Translate. Maybe that is what it says - but I don’t trust GT.
These guys obviously didn't stop at one drink. Maybe they were hoping for another life.
D, on the Eurostar, on the way home. So there you go, that was our girls’ trip to the Amsterdamsch, something we dreamt up last summer, when we saw A for the first time since all the lockdowns, and wanted to make up for lost time. Having this trip as something to look forward to, all the way back then, was invaluable. I hope we’ll do plenty more of them.
On the morning of the same day that we took the train back to London, we went to Ons Lieve Heer op Solder (Our Dear Lord in the Attic), which I’m sure I’ve blogged about on the old blog, as me and Z have been there before. D is a bit of a church fan, not in a religious way, but in an old buildings way, so it made sense to take her and A to see what is my favourite random and less well known museum in Amsterdam. The Netherlands became a mainly Calvinist (protestant) country in the 1600’s, but still allowed Catholics to practice their form of Christianity, as long as they did so in secret. As a workaround lots of houses where converted into churches, and Ons Lieve was built in the attic of the wealthy merchant Jan Hartman in 1663. The rest of the house has also been turned into a museum, with historically correct decoration and furnishings.
And you guys know how much places like this excite me, don’t you? Places were I can drool at colour combinations and beautiful details.
Initially me and Z were not sure whether we wanted to go back to this place as it felt a bit ‘been there, done that’, but we were both so glad that we did. We could take it in in a completely different way, and it was actually really nice to not use the audio guide this time round, as it gave us the chance to look at everything again, without being steered of where to look.
I think I’m starting to have a thing for rooms with the walls covered in fabric. It just feels so cosy, and deadens sound perfectly. I’m not sure how practical it would be in real life, as the fabric must surely get very dusty, and will probably have to be professionally cleaned, because good luck with fitting the fabric in your washing machine and ironing it.
See what I mean? COSY. And I’m not sure why the Dutch use actual rugs as table cloths, but they used to, a lot. In fact on the last trip to Amsterdam we had lunch in a really quiet but cool café, where all the tables had rugs on them. Doesn’t strike me as very hygienic, but best not to think about it too much.
‘Know yourself’. How apt for a mirror.
And another thing I’m crushing on? Box beds. Same thing - super cosy. I think cosy is my most important feeling I want from an interior.
Our dear Z in the attic. Hallelujah.
As you climb the narrow stairs you finally arrive in the church part itself. Here’s D taking a picture of the altar, standing in the nave. Listen to me with all my church knowledge! Well, I’m about to finish a 10-week long online course on architectural history, which has been just awesome, but as hardly any secular buildings have survived that past couple of millennia, the course has mainly been about churches. So if you want to know about narthexes, apses, ambulatories, and clerestories, then I’m here yeah?
I eavesdropped on this guide showing a group of teenage girls around. She was so enthusiastic and engaging, she really had them paying attention. I also felt very proud of myself for understanding everything she said - in Dutch. I guess I’m blowing my own trumpet in this post, huh?.
Some sculptures near the part where the church organist would sit and play.
There were also some items of clothing dotted around the place.
I really dig the mustard colour of this priest’s robe.
Not sure the meaning of this (so I guess it’s time to put that trumpet away), but I’m sure it means something, seeing as a dove symbolises the holy spirit? Maybe it’s just trapped in the attic.
Z checking out the linen curtains; she’s actually ended up choosing very similar for her house.
Two angles of where the priest would sit in the confessional.
And Z on the side of the confessor.
D, matching the warmth of this room.
These Delft (Delft! Somewhere I really want to go one day) tiles are so nice, aren’t they?
And this one, shaped like a newel post (it was right next to a staircase). I know I say it a lot about places I’ve blogged about, but seriously, if you’re ever in Amsterdam, you HAVE TO check this place out. I’ve never seen anything like it, and my pictures don’t do it justice. I also find the juxtaposition of what it is and where it is - the Red Light District - quite amusing. I’m sure Jan Hartman would be turning in his grave if he knew.