Tulips from Amsterdam - Friday

On Friday 18 May I went on a weekend trip to Amsterdam with my great friend, Sammy the Shark. Sammy had booked this for me as a birthday treat and it was my first real trip abroad for 24 years. We were supposed to fly from Blackpool Airport but as we were checking in, a rep from the airline told us that we were going to be bussed to Manchester and fly from there because of essential maintenance on the aircraft. Not a particularly auspicious start but, as Sammy pointed out, Manchester Airport is a bit of an experience in itself.

More auspicious was the presence of a sizeable contigents of punks and I remembered that it was Rebellion weekend in Amsterdam. On the bus we were treated to free entertainment by Louis, a punk who was clearly drunk. Manchester Airport was big but, to be honest, I would have preferred the more hassle free Blackpool. The plane was small and I had no legroom but what the hell, the flight was only an hour long.

I was like a small child on the plane. I have flown before but it was 24 years ago. I spent a lot of the time looking out of the window in wide-eyed wonder and I thought take off was brilliant. I had a Stella during the flight and then read an interesting scientific magazine I had brought with me.

Schipol was fine. We went through passport control, got our baggage and then Sammy went out for a smoke. I sat inside guarding our bags. Then a double decker train to Central Station in Amsterdam (Wow! Whatever next!) and then a tram to our hotel. The hotel was gorgeous and here's a photo of it.


We got our key, took the luggage into the room and then hit Amsterdam. A couple of hours and a few lagers later, we were sat outside Cafe Nasty (the name really appealed to Sammy). I've even taken a snap of that one too.


We were approached by an extremely drunk Dutchman. After presumably ascertaining that we were not dangerous, knife-wielding psychopaths, he called his younger brother over and we were treated to the full force of his charm. His younger brother did not speak much English but then again, we did not speak any Dutch. They were in Amsterdam for the weekend with their 3 other brothers (their mother must have been a superheroine!) and while we were chatting to them, these brothers joined the party in dribs and drabs. I'm not absolutely sure but I think they were called Theo, Martin, Tony, Mike and Teus.

After a while, they went off to pastures new and Sammy and I headed off to another bar. Now, my memory is pretty hazy but I do remember chatting to a guy in a Motorhead T-Shirt in one bar where the doorman was as camp as a row of tents. The man in the t-shirt was from the east of Holland and the camp doorman kept strutting around speaking in german, which was hilarious. According to the gentleman in the t-shirt, he was taking the michael because he comes from a place very close to Germany. Sammy then proceeded to talk to them in fluent German. I sat there drinking my beer and not understanding much of what they said. After a while the bar closed and we set off to find another, still open, bar.

We ended up back at Cafe Nasty and Sammy went off to strut her stuff on the dance floor. I had drunken conversations with a number of people. Then Sammy hooked up with a young New Zealand woman (hooked up in a platonic way) and we wandered off to find a Coffee Shop which was still open. We didn't find one but we did find three young (very young, they were all in their 20s) brazilian gentlemen, one of whom took a real fancy to Sammy. For some reason I was feeling protective (or maybe jealous). He was really keen but they disappeared after a while, we didn't find a coffee shop and we eventually repaired to our hotel at about 5am. I was pretty pissed and very knackered.

To be continued...

My First Ever Dance Out

Oh yes! I danced out for the first time ever on Thursday. I've managed to learn three dances in the two practises I have attended (of which I'm very proud) and I was looking forward to putting all this new knowledge into practise. We danced at the Malthouse pub in Chorley and when I arrived, most of the team were already there and ready to go. I don't have a hat or coat yet (actually, I do have a hat but it was untrimmed. I have since trimmed it and I love it!) so the team lent me a spare coat and I borrowed the hat of an absent member.

One of the ladies lent me some face paints and I blacked up and went out to join the rest of the team. The hat was a little bit small for my but I was ready to go.

First we danced Tinners and I insisted on going third (easiest for me). It's great dancing at practise but it's fabulous dancing in public. Then, while we were having a break, I went and got some money and bought myself a drink. I had, by then, been given some bells which I laced onto my boots. It was really strange walking up to the bar, jingling away, with my face blacked and a be-feathered (and studded) top hat on. Still, I got served and I walked outside with my half of Fosters in my hand.

Here's my first photo. I'm pretty sure the dance is Skirmish and it is brilliant. I have explained to the team that I need to learn this one. I can't explain why but I know that my life will be a sad and pitiful existence until I learn the dance.



Next, it was Ashpole. This is one I've learned and now danced twice in practise. I suppose that makes it "my" dance and I get the feeling I will always insist on dancing it (and I will stamp my feet if anybody tries to gainsay me) whenever we dance out. Somebody very kindly took my camera and took some snaps while I was dancing. Most are blurred (we dance very fast) but this one shows me quite clearly, waiting to start.

Ashpole went well and I managed to get it all right. I like Ashpole and I think it must look great to the audience because the figures (at last! I've remembered the word) will look so intricate but it is relatively easy for the dancers to remember (although one seasoned dancers took a wrong turn at one point!)

Next, I had to have my photo taken with Brent, our Father Christmas lookalike.

I love the way my fringe flops over my eyes in a totally emo (but in a totally gone wrong emo) way. I think I am going to have to pin it back somehow because it gets in my way when I'm dancing.

Well, we danced White Ladies and, although I'd only practised it once, I asked if I could dance and they said yes. I took a wrong turn once (not too bad) but my partner was very good and kept me on the straight and narrow for the rest of the dance. She was also very kind because I wanted to go on the left (which is the position I learnt it in) and she has a dicky left shoulder, which is awkward because there is a double hay in the dance (I'll let you imagine what a double hay is if you don't already know). She let me go on the left.

Well, there were more dances, including Crow's Nest and probably others, and it was getting dark. I took a few more pictures including this one:

We also danced Tinners twice more and dragged bar staff and audience members into the dance. That is something I love about this team - audience participation. They even got the landlady out of the pub and she danced too. I had to leave early (just gone 10.30) because I had work the next day.

I got home and uploaded the pictures onto the computer and went to bed. The next day, I put them on my MP3 player (the internet was down so I couldn't e-mail them) and took them into work and proudly showed them to anybody who would look at them. Somebody asked me who Big Foot is. I'm sure Brent won't mind!