The New True Story Game Page 3

Amsterdam - Part 4

Was day one conventional? Difficult to say. We observed canals, trams and cyclists. By midday, we had ticked off Ann Frank's house. But the start of it had been fraught. On the frogmarch towards breakfast, I managed to keep the peace by agreeing that certain coffee shops weren't for us on the grounds that they didn't sell any recognisable coffee when they patently didn't sell any coffee at all, not that it could be acknowledged. But there had been a blistering argument when a wide fronted shop with a car showroom sort of window had suddenly appeared. The kind in which there were half a dozen naked gyrating women. That I had had the temerity to stop and observe for a few seconds was greeted with a warning about perversion, not that he was religious in the slightest. It made me stop for longer and the row got worse. At root what he didn't like was that his map lines hadn't worked for him. The map should have indicated every "land mine".

We went off to Haarlem earlier than expected, ostensibly so as to escape the City of Sin. It is a nice town. Tree lined. Not a great deal to do. As the kick-off wasn't until the evening, I did persuade him into a record shop although he wasn't overly impressed by music. It was totally empty and a little elderly couple were behind the counter. The record that was on featured a jazz saxophone. Moonlight in Vermont. It had a lovely, settling feeling like being in an oasis of calm. Even Kev liked it. I asked the couple who it was and they said it was Ruud Brink and Trio Pim Jacobs. Unknown outside the Netherlands. Big in them for many years, especially the early 1960s. They had had personal connections with them. Brink had just died. They and Jacobs had visited him in hospital and they were so pleased that a young British person would show such interest in them. I bought the CD and I treasure it for the way in which it absolutely encapsulates that moment.

Google FC Haarlem today and you will find that the club is now defunct. That is not entirely surprising given what we experienced when we ultimately rolled up at their ground on a cold February night. I rather liked the ground. Small and provincial, surrounded by greenery and with just one burger van on the street outside which could be accessed at half time, its most notable feature was a modest running track around the perimeter of the pitch. As for the first half of football it was dire. So dire in fact that after 25 minutes about 40 of the thousand strong crowd ventured onto the track and started up their own football game in parallel. It was of much better quality but Kevin was not at all impressed as it was a distraction for him right in front of our eyes. Fortunately he accepted my suggestion he shouldn't walk over and complain.

However, his opinions were expressed to me loudly and they carried on the wind. By half time, both matches had stopped for a while. The spectators who had commenced with one of their own went off to get burgers before returning to their seats. I did get us coffees but encountered a few glares in the process. That made me decide that when the second real half began I wouldn't catch anybody's eye and just focus determinedly on the match. The parallel match was not recommenced. I assumed that those who had been involved were somewhere to my right as they had originally been also watching FC Haarlem. "Funnily enough" I said to Kev "it started out bitterly cold but it feels like it's getting a bit warmer."

Uncharacteristically he took his eyes off a game. He moved his head in my direction to say "yes" but what came out of his mouth was an "oh". "I think we'd better move" he said. "They have set light to their seats and the flames are coming fast in your direction". When the match was stopped and the fire engines turned up, we did move rapidly and all the way back to Amsterdam. One small glass of beer and three quick if extremely difficult pisses in a bar later, we were back in our "room".

Amsterdam - Part 5

The second full day - we were only there for two full days - began surprisingly sedately and it ended very reasonably if unremarkably compared with what came between the two. I will do the ending first. We went to a match at Ajax. Some Ajax fans had come into what was "the Ajax bar" we were in and offered to drive us there. That made it easy. They then disappeared. I think the match was ok. I don't recall a great deal of it. I was pleased to have been able to say that I had been to my first big European ground. As for the beginning, well, that turned out to be musical, again in a good way.

We had sort of ambled that morning in an area which according to the map was very old and where nothing untoward could possibly appear. Soon, away from the traffic, we found ourselves in a really quiet courtyard with a lovely garden. And two guys were playing something rather magical there. Buskers. They had their CDs at their feet. The tunes of Turlough O'Carolan, a blind monk from centruies earlier played on the harp and hammer dulcimer. Northern Lights was their name. I bought that CD too. Later I discovered on the internet that they were Canadians rather than Dutch as I had thought,

In between, then, that Ajax bar. This was Kevin at his best. Long before the break he had identified it with his research as a place to which we had to go. It was a little gem. Full of colour and polish and glass and the ceilings and walls decked in the football team's memorabilia. It did a great range of white beers too. When we walked in, there was just the barman and us. Later a young man and a woman in running gear joined us. They had just run the Rotterdam Marathon so once again the scenario was not the norm and being unusual it was mildly interesting. It is odd just how empty so many places in big cities can be. I have found this a lot. Obviously later many fans did pour in which is how we came to be offered a lift.

But before any of them arrived, what was initially a cheery, extremely friendly barman was keen to enter into conversation. "So where have you guys been staying then?" he asked. On replying, his face fell and he looked genuinely terrified as if he was about to ring the police. "No, no, no" he kept saying. "Yes we are" we said. "Why?" "Well for one reason you do realise it is a brothel?" "Is it?" I turned to Kev and apologised for not having believed him about all of the alleged commotion during each night. "And for another it is never out of the newspapers. There is a heroin overdose death there at least once a week. It's a place to avoid." Oh the irony. Few maps would have highlighted that one for "all" the Kevs of this world.

It did, of course, explain the lack of space and furniture and facilities. Our room had been nothing more than an extension of a knocking shop. The VVV. I am sure that it is a very reputable place. A word of warning, though. Don't go in there and ask for a room at a price below anything they advertise. It will be not so much VVV as XXX, albeit without "perversion" written large in nude daylight. "So then, you dirty bastard, what did you and, er, Kev get up to?" It was Friday and I was back in the Red Lion. "Oh, you know, a bit of this and that." "Right - and the other?" "Actually, we stayed in a brothel".

Jo Stafford does a good Moonlight in Vermont.
I've stayed in Amsterdam.I was pleasantly surprised by the locals of all ages dining out late.There didn't seem to be a generation gap.Very civilized sort of place.

Quote: john tregorran @ 17th November 2019, 9:27 PM

Jo Stafford does a good Moonlight in Vermont.
I've stayed in Amsterdam.I was pleasantly surprised by the locals of all ages dining out late.There didn't seem to be a generation gap.Very civilized sort of place.

Ah yes, good stuff re Jo Stafford and on the latter, sure, if you know the right places.

I really liked my Amsterdam trip and my good friend Kevin's company because it was so not the obvious.

Haven't seen him for many years - but bless him : these recollections are not at all intended to be unkind. :)

Brink and Jacobs, circa 1990-1 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CxJcyLCTeFw

With Astrud Gilberto in 1962 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9DCaxN6TfH4

(Until the internet, I knew nothing of the collaboration - Astrud, wow, it's really excellent)

Northern Lights - circa 1990-1 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_2JKRHos-I

The magical Ramble to Cashel - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFUrT0ildug

(For anyone interested in exploring O'Carolan, Patrick Ball is the main man who has performed him and I now have his CD too. However, Coulter and Harris (Northern Lights) will always be my nostalgic favourite. That time. The fact that they introduced me to him. I have asked serious classicists if they consider O'Carolan to be classical music. Normally they have an opinion on everything and rarely is it compromising. They couldn't make up their minds on this one and didn't rule it out. The folk lineage is obvious. It is what you want it to be in your peaceful courtyard. I'd like to think of him, among other things, as an odd precursor to Van Morrison. The blind monk was very special and probably, on reflection, unique). .

UPDATED LIST

First Ten

Tortoise
Blouse
Beer
Socks
Black holes
Trombone
The one that got away
Bling
New Topic - Punk rock
3 in 1 oil

Second Fifteen

Worms
New topic - Grandchildren
Bicycle
Art Gallery
Curry
Prostitutes
Phil Collins
Newspaper Round
Dustmen
Baby Oil
Scarborough
Grass
Thailand
Comedy DVD
VD

PROSTITUTES.

I should say at the outset that I have never engaged the services of a prostitute.

I have however known a few of them and I've known a few men who engaged the services of prostitutes on a regular basis.

A couple of these men were good-looking professional businessmen with loads of money and they were very nice guys. They'd go out for a night on the town and rather than get involved with all the complexities of pulling and subsequently seducing a couple of non-professional girls, they'd drink on their own all evening and then go and get what they referred to as "brassed up", by which they meant they would employ a couple of prostitutes.

And now, on with the story.

It has to be said that some prostitutes are as honest as the day is long.

However, it also has to be said that some prostitutes are as crooked as f**k.

The problem is that when meeting an unknown girl, the customer or "punter" has no way of knowing whether she's going to conduct her business honestly or whether she's going to rob him of every penny he's got about his person.

I was once driving along Princess Parkway in Manchester when I saw a prostitute standing by the side of the road. I knew her as a friend of a friend and so I stopped to say hello.

She was pleased as punch to see me because she was just clocking off for the night and fancied a lift home. She called out to another girl who was a short distance away and her friend too came running towards my car.

I gave both girls a lift to a flat they shared in Manchester.

On the way home, they let me into a little secret: it was their established way of doing business to have one girl's young teenage brother hiding under the bed upon which business was to be done. During the intimate act, he would pull the man's trousers from the end of the bed, empty his wallet and replace it in the trousers. He would then replace the trousers on the end of the bed.

We stopped en route at a local takeaway and, generous soul that I am, I bought food for the three of us and also for the girl's young brother.

Upon arriving at the girls' flat, they spoke very loudly about how rich I was (this was play-acting, of course) and how they'd never in all their lives seen anybody with so much money in his wallet.

This conversation continued until we were in the bedroom, at which point they called to the young brother under the bed, telling him that he could come out now because they were having a joke with him.

He didn't come out, and so they told him again to come out.

He still didn't come out, and so they told him yet again to come out.

They repeated their instruction and eventually his head popped out from under the bed and he had his finger to his lips, telling them to be quiet!

They had to explain to him very carefully that it was all a joke and there was going to be no robbery with this particular punter as he was a personal friend.

At that, the brother came out and we all shared a delicious meal.

During the meal, they asked him how he felt while they were talking about all the money I had. He replied with a huge grin, "I felt good, man!"

The moral of this story (for anyone who's missed it) is: when you engage the services of a prostitute, count yourself lucky if she's the only one who gets f***ed.

Thanks for listening.

UPDATED LIST

First Ten

Tortoise
Blouse
Beer
Socks
Black holes
Trombone
The one that got away
Bling
New Topic - Punk rock
3 in 1 oil

Second Fifteen

Worms
New topic - Grandchildren
Bicycle
Art Gallery
Curry
The stupidest thing I've ever done
Phil Collins
Newspaper Round
Dustmen
Baby Oil
Scarborough
Grass
Thailand
Comedy DVD
VD

Curry.

I met Mike Harding in a curry house. (when he was famous and on the telly)
It was 02:00 am and I was extremely drunk

I say met - more like pestered him.
I asked for his autograph and offered my chapati for him to sign.
He obliged and then I eat it.

A while after that, I watched his latest set and he now included a skit about a drunk man in an Indian restaurant.
I probably annoyed him but I did give him some new material.

Tortoise
Blouse
Beer
Socks
Black holes
Trombone
The one that got away
Bling
New Topic - Punk rock
3 in 1 oil

Second Fifteen

Dodgy dealing
Worms
New topic - Grandchildren
Bicycle
Art Gallery
The stupidest thing I've ever done
Phil Collins
Newspaper Round
Dustmen
Baby Oil
Scarborough
Grass
Thailand
Comedy DVD
VD

Oh yes, well done you two.

We adore participation.

Stephen:

I believe you have a replacement topic for the list so that the title doesn't lie when it refers to a second "fifteen"? Wave

Whoops - I realise that the topic has been replaced.

My apologies.

As you were, people.