Speciaal voor jou geef ik me bloot op de jaarkalender van Borduren in de Avonduren. Inclusief twaalf pikante foto's vanuit het exclusieve Pincoffs Hotel, geschoten door de ware Aad Hoogendoorn.
Fall has befallen us. Leaves come crashing from the trees like raindrops from a cloud. Which is also happening. Just imagine yourself strolling through a forest, nearly buried under a heap of leaves, when you hear a children’s choir lamenting your kindness. An optimistic organ of ordeal. Sadly, it got cancelled. But it will be reality someday, in cooperation with Theater Artemis and Festival de Betovering in The Hague. Be prepared. Now go get your popcorn and hot cocoa, for there are things to be said.
Het is herfst. De bladeren lazeren uit de bomen en het regent dat het druilt. Stel je voor: je loopt langs het bos en daar hoor je een kinderkoor, allemaal druilerige kinderen, die in de regen beklagen wat een leuk mens je bent. Een optimistisch druilorgel. Het ging niet door maar ooit komt het nog, in samenwerking met Theater Artemis voor Festival de Betovering in Den Haag. Bereid je erop voor. Nu moet je vlug je popcorn en chocomel pakken, want ik heb nieuws.
It’s wonderful to see you are still here. I wholeheartedly hope your relatives are in good shape as well, and if fate has decided differently I wish you all the strength you might need. During the past few months I have done my best to slither a path through the current restrictions as an earthworm would.
Gedurende de afgelopen maanden heb ik (nu weer Maarten) mij als een regenworm door de situatie bewogen. In het begin vielen veel projecten in het water, maar water is juist hetgeen een regenworm op teert, waardoor ik mijn kans schoon zag om eerdere ideeën uit te werken.
You’ve heard at least sixty others tell you how productive they’ve been the last few weeks and that Shakespeare wrote King Lear in isolation, though for you the hours go by as you find yourself in front of the window judging people who don’t walk around one another as if they’re lepers. In other words, there’s plenty of time to read this newsletter.
Shakespeare in quarantaine King Lear schreef, maar de uren blijven verstrijken terwijl je voor het raam zit te kijken naar mensen die geen afstand van elkaar houden. Het lezen van een nieuwsbrief als deze kan er dus ook nog wel bij.
Dear elves and party people, Let’s get one thing out of the way before we start: the first one to mention Christmas will face court on charges of unwanted and boring repetition. We know it’s that time of the year. Thank you for your cooperation.
As temperatures are dropping several degrees per minute, it is of the utmost importance we do not abandon our feathered duck friends. It would be wonderful if each of you could let just one (1) duck live in your house.
The weather is taking a turn for the worse: summer’s here. With this in mind I've recently bought a piece of land, where I will be blissfully waiting in my new caravan for autumn to finally come.
Ladies and gentlemen, Now that spring has come and a rich feast of fruits is hanging from the trees, my hard work is bearing fruit as well. I’m welcome at the gym again, after the suspension that followed when I hung a poem about hygiene near the swimming pool, back in November.
On behalf of Willie (cat) and myself (human) the best wishes for 2019. We hope it has been a good year for you, and that 2019 will be even better. Any which way, Willie is thankful that the fireworks have ended.
