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October 21st, 2000 Following the annual shower of titles of the walking society Intermezzo: the annual shower of titles of the walking society Each walking season produces some medals. These in turn qualify their bearer to wear the matching civilian batons. And so Schelden and I recently travelled to the shop of the Rijkskanselarij der Nederlandsche Orden, the firm of Van Wielik (Kneuterdijk 2b, 2514 EN, the Hague, tel. +31 (0)70-3462196, fax +31 (0)70-3617335). And a few weeks later those batons and some other stuff arrived, making it partytime. Schelden had written a lunatic speech for the occasion, and pinned the decorations onto the chest of those who had earned them. Thankfully, the victims had the right to speech themselves, and so Schelden was in for a hard night. Nonetheless this was an amusing evening, in the basement of bar de Haarlemse Compagnie. All the more so because we welcomed three guests to the party: van Driel Bsc, Douglas Birtwhistle (what fa-bu-lous name) and Ellen Wabeke. The fact that the latter is a lady increases the quality of the walking society's looks greatly, that's obvious. But all three of these newcomers will be invaluable assets to the spirit of the society, there is no doubt about that. Intermezzo ends Schelden, stupidly drunk, decided to slug it out with Lee, bartender in cafe de Uiver. Who, you see, refused to serve him at last call and naturally proceeded to pour the more sober lady next to him a drink. Upon which Schelden physically attacked him. Well, so John and I interceded, and hit the open air carrying Schelden, wildly kicking and yelling. Look, Schelden, you were not at all irritating yet at the point where Lee refused to give you the booze. But if you punch him in the face you obviously affirm the correctness of his decision after the fact. This was not a proper action on your part. Luckily, my reputation in de Uiver is of no value to me, but if you ever do this to me in de Schuur me and Huub'll hit you all the way back to Timbuctoo (where, by the way and fully aside, walking is a pleasurable experience, so they tell me). Worse was the fact that on homecoming my phone proved to have gone AWOL, and continued to be so in the days thereafter. The likelihood (because it was last spotted just before) that it slipped from its cover on my belt during the ado, is exceptionally strong. But this would mean someone in or just outside de Uiver took the bloody thing home. I am therefore awaiting the arrival of a new one, to be reached only by email or in person until that day. Previous episodes:
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