So, I’ve been in Leiden for almost a week now. As far as I can tell, there are two employers in Leiden - and I’m not working at the University I’m over here for two weeks, to get the hang of things, after which I’ll be working mainly from Dublin for the time being. I’ve had an absolutely manic week, but a lot of fun too. The office is pretty sociable, my colleagues are a lot of fun, and really, the only thing I’ve found to complain about is the Dutch food… (I’d complain about the customer service too, only I haven’t found any of that yet…!)

Two dishes of note - poffertjes are possibly the scariest foodstuff on the planet, while bitterballen are surprisingly edible despite the name. Poffertjes are small little pancakes, drowned in icing sugar and served with whipped cream - containing approximately three days worth of calories in a single serving. Bitterballen, well, I don’t really know what they are, but I’m sure if I ever find out what goes in them, I’ll not eat them again.

Colm left Leiden today - he’s eating potato cakes in Borza’s as I write! - and I helped him cart all his stuff to the airport. I should have known it was going to be a long day when I watched the police talking to some apparently-mad woman on my way down to meet Colm. Unfortunately, I didn’t really realise until we were coming back up Haarlemerstraat, laden with all his bags. We had just gotten on to Haarlemerstraat from Haven, when I yelled “OW!”, as a nasty, sharp pain slammed through my leg… Now, I wasn’t looking behind me just at that moment, but the tyre marks up the back of my leg suggest that the bike had just crashed into me.

I didn’t quite fall over, although I might have done without Colm there! Turning around, I saw a young lad just regaining his balance having fallen off the front of a bike, which was suspiciously stopped just where I’d been a moment previously. The lad on the back of the bike fell off only marginally more gracefully as I yelled “BE CAREFUL!” at the guy sitting on the saddle. I limped off with Colm after that, since even in a pedestrian area, bikes seem to rule the roost here.

We got to the train station, and then to Schiphol, where we checked in Colm’s bags before killing some time together. By now I was in rather a lot of pain, so I headed back to Leiden. Trying to explain to the girl in the pharmacy that I wanted an antiseptic cream got nowhere, so I headed back to the hotel. I remembered that my old first aid kit was in the office (Colm’s had it for the past year), but without an alarm code, that was no good to me. One of the guys very generously suggested that he could come up to let me in, but he was in the middle of stuff, and it really wasn’t that urgent, so I wandered down to reception, where one of the girls gave me what I needed.

I have some nasty bruises up and down my leg, and I expect I’ll be walking funny for a day or two, but hey - worse things happen at sea!

I passed this on to my father the other day; it made perfect sense to him (and me), but when I saw it written down, it occurred to me that it looks a bit “Dan Brown”ish!

“Re Gibraltar - the Commissioner called. He says the Knight Commander thinks something will be forthcoming from the Order.”

Colour me amused

neither of which make very good topics of conversation…

I’m currently “in between” jobs - there are a couple of tempty employers interested in me, which is a nice position to be in. Unfortunately, hiring processes can be slow at times - so I’m waiting on a formal offer from the more local one before I make a decision. Whichever way it goes, it looks like I’ll be starting off on the career ladder as a technical writer. It seems appropriate, really, given the degree I have - and I love doing it, so I’m looking forward to getting stuck in. We’ll just have to wait and see where in the world I end up!

Stephen & I went to Castlebar last week, for three days in the Breaffy House Hotel. We had a ball, the pool/spa was gorgeous, and we drove out to Louisburgh, Achill etc. On the way up, I got a text from dad, to say that grandad had gone into St Luke’s - so we sent him a postcard from Achill. He’s had chemotherapy and radiation therapy, although previously always as an outpatient. Unfortunately, the cancer has continued to spread, and last Thursday he was pronounced as being on a “limited-time conveyor belt”. None of us really know what that means - dad’s knowledgable-but-uneducated guess is “spring”, so we’ll just have to see.

He had really been looking forward to a trip to Canada later this year, but the last bout of radiotherapy knocked the stuffing out of him; everyone was still encouraging him to go, as soon as he got back on his feet, but it now looks like that won’t be possible - so Canada is coming to him. My aunt Eileen (his only daughter) is coming out next week with her brother Ollie, and Ollie’s wife, Steph. Everyone has various commitments back at home, of course - so Steph will stay for a week, Ollie for two, and Eileen for three. I’m really excited about seeing them again - I haven’t seen them since I visited in 2003/04 - but it’s bittersweet.

It’s been decided that he won’t have any more chemo-/radiotherapy - from here on, it’s just treating the symptoms, I guess. Mum & I brought him home today, making sure arrangements were in place for him to get all the medications he needs, get his wound dressings changed etc. Somehow, handling all the little minutiae can be a distraction, for a while. Of course, some of the ‘minutiae’ are simpler than others - grandma’s now looking at the arrangements that need to be made to make sure that she gets buried rather than cremated; and she doesn’t have a will yet either.

The wedding arrangements also provide distraction - making the paper invites, sending out the email ones, arranging things for various bits of the day. But there’s a lot of stress just ‘around’, in the air. Everyone’s on edge, everyone’s upset, and everyone’s dealing with it in different ways. For my part, I’m perpetually close to tears. Sometimes I’m more upset, sometimes more pragmatic - and I’m sure as time goes on, we’ll get used to it. It’s odd, because I’m close to tears, but a lot of the time, I’m not upset. It hasn’t sunk in. People say nice things, or soothing things, and it seems out of place, because I’m just getting on with things a lot. Grandad’s like that too… I went to visit him in St Luke’s on Monday, and he was talking about the hospital, the treatment, sorting out his affairs, in a completely practical manner. The only time he was upset was when he was saying thank you for the postcard - he got all choked up, because he had some really memorable summers leading bike tours around that part of the country.

Dad’s birthday is next Thursday. Ollie will be here for his fiftieth. I expect those will be birthdays that are never forgotten - for all the wrong reasons.