La
Licorne
GET
SET
After the rigorous
cut for rag time my hair never came back as before. Likewise my entire life had
changed, and how I enjoyed it. The two fellows in the house turned out to be most
pleasant chaps. One of the things I learned from them was opening an account in
a shop. The recipe was as simple as effective. You just walked into the outlet
of your choice and made a fair order. At that time one was still attended to
from behind the counter. Having been served you waited for the addition to be
put in front of you. Then came the moment you had to prove your nerve. A coward
would now draw his wallet and pay, but you were to look the shopkeeper openly
in the eyes and say quietly: "Can you open an account?" It never
failed and I ended up with accounts all over the town.
In the beginning the
relation with these shopkeepers was correct though formal, but gradually I
exercised some nasty tricks on them. Take my visits to the butcher. He was so
kind to add a piece of sausage to whatever little order I made. I appreciated
this because the sausage was good, but instead of showing my gratitude I used
to leave the store by saying: Thank you
for the dogs meat, butcher. And I had no dog! For the milkman I had another
thing in store. To him I would return the empty bottles after such a passage of
time that the most colorful fungus cultures would have developed at the bottom.
Presently I am so ashamed of this behavior that before returning the empties I
am taking pains to clean them.
At the end of the
month one was supposed to settle his bills, which in my case added up to about
half of my monthly allowance. Another twenty five guilders was for the rental
of the room, leaving fifty guilders for all the other expenses. Needless to say
that money was constantly in short supply. Naturally it was tempting to
postpone payments to the shopkeepers, but this was not my favorite scheme. In
the end one had to pay his bills anyway. Also I perceived by fine sense that a
bad debt didn't match with my teasing games.
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Fortunately I developed other
ways to augment my income. One of the things I had learned at home was how to
play bridge. From the age of twelve we had been thoroughly instructed on the
subject in order to ensure a steady supply of players for the elders. Now this
ability proved to be marketable to the well-to-do farmer's sons at the Club.
The training I gave free, but when time came that my pupils wanted to play for
real money was at stake according to the club's mores. Thanks goodness that my
play was and stayed good enough to ensure me of a modest, but steady income.
The other way to
make ends meet could be found at the agricultural institutes and trial farms.
The jobs they offered were suitable to give me a financial boost from time to
time. It also helped to improve my knowledge of the agricultural practice. As a
youngster I had occasionally played and worked on farms, but my choice for
Wageningen had been on rather arbitrary grounds. The traditional studies didn't
really attract me, and I feared the demands of a technical university. So it
was only after learning about the existence of an agricultural university with
broad options for specialization, that I made up my mind. This could give me
the comfortable, but ranking training I had been looking for. What I hadn't
realized was that coming from a town I wasn't really imbued with the farm
practice. After all I have never been able to make up for this lack, but at
least, the petty jobs have helped.
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The room I rented
was on the second floor. For a small town like Wageningen it was normal that
this was the top floor of a house, even in the main shopping street. The room
was located in the front. Unfortunately, for a view on the street I had to go
down on my belly to peep through the window that was located just above the
floor. Basic furniture and a wash stand with cold water tap were present.
Heating was done with a little coal-stove, which took an art to control.
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Lectures were
given in the morning. For obvious reasons that timing didn't suit me and I
decided I could do without. No, as far as I was concerned the sun didn't need
to rise before noon. Then it was time
to get up and go to the Club for coffee and meeting friends. Some of them
followed the same pattern, but most were dutifully attending the scheduled
presentations.
In the afternoons
all of us would proceed to the practical work in one of the laboratories.
After that, time came for a few rounds of bridge followed by dinner at the
Club or elsewhere. Back in my room I would stir up the fire for an evening of
serious study after reading Het
Algemeen Handelsblad. This interesting newspaper brought most of time an
issue worth discussing with the two downstairs, that were subscribed to it as
well. We anyway were to have coffee together. Coming back to my room, it was
customary to find the stove overheated and scanty oxygen left. Finding myself
sleepy I used to take a nap before going to the Club, postponing the paper
work for the next day.
While days and
evenings passed quickly, the nights stretched long for me and my pals. At the
Club the shifts changed around mid-night. Those who were going to rize early
left and the others flocked in. On Friday nights everybody stayed late, so
both shifts would meet.
On Saturdays the Club closed
after noon. That left us for the
week-end on our own: Francis, Victor, Peter, Gerard, Sjeng, John and others.
Sappho by Charles-August Mengin, 1867
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We spent long sessions on
literature, art and music, albeit classical or jazz. There in the mid-fifties
we took an interest in artworks to illustrate what we read, and unearthed -then-
obscure master pieces, such as Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, which we examined
to become familiar with every word of it, so we could figure Fortune dancing
bare breasted in front of us.
Madonna (1895)
by Edvard Munch
http://www.calarts.edu/%7Erjaster/edvard-munch/gallery/index.htm
Girl
representing Goddess Minoan holding snakes
during
opening ceremony of Olympics 2004 in Athens. Compare: http://employees.oneonta.edu/farberas/arth/ARTH200/politics/greeks_other.html
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From time to time
there were parties at the Club, good parties with girls and all, but the best
had yet to come. As a jolly, witty, handsome, sharp, unsportive and work-shy fellow
I was eagerly looking forward to join The
Oil. Unlike the standard debating clubs The Oil consisted of a bunch of
irregulars with vague reputations in terms of drinking, shouting, skirt handling
and study. However, their balloting system for new members was rigid and
cautious. They would allow the serious debating clubs to lure their new members
from the serious freshmen, and then select a small band to join their own gang.
The Oil would not allow members associated to other clubs, but one: The He-Goat Riders, which was a gathering of
beer guzzling fellows conversing in the dialect of Limburg. I joined both.
When summer came
parties cropped up everywhere. One night I was invited in a hut located at the
outskirts of the town; for insiders: opposite the former pub of Mies Quint.
There were booze, music, and girls from secondary school. Some of them I had
seen before and I recognized in particular one that had frequented our cultural
sessions. She had an intense look that easily shifted from friendly to hostile.
One day I had assisted her with home work. So now we danced. I knew her as a
pleasant self-confident girl, but that evening her face stood dark and the eyes
glanced mystical into mine. I tried to overshout the speakers with lighthearted
conversation, but she didn't relent. Her beautiful anger would have dishearted
me if the grip of her hand had not been easy and the body close. When I
ventured a touch which could not be mistaken the magic took over. We escaped
from the party into the splendid summer evening where we got to know one
another better, there under the lane of high trees. Deep down in those blue
eyes I found the moon.
In a matter of no
time I became part of Mieke's life. Her parents had a fashion house in High
Street, not far from the place where I lived. That fact proved convenient for
making arrangements to see one another. The beautiful summer time enabled us to
walk, cycle, swim, dance and fondle.
She used those
encounters to take me into confidence about her interesting past. It promised
good fortune that she was born on a Sunday, but when two years old she had
mistaken the debris on the local moat for a lawn, and had tried to walk on it.
Despite the lightness of her weight it had failed to give adequate support with
the result that she got a ducking. I owed eternal gratitude to the passing hero
who had saved her life. When four she had worn wooden shoes by sheer need, not
luxury. At the primary school with the Sisters she had done very well. Now in
the highest grade of secondary school her marks looked bleaker on account of
the teachers. Nevertheless she had lots of fun. And so there were many
important things to know. It was too late when both of us realized we had to pass
exams as well. While we had failed others had succeeded and that produced a
series of parties where we could put our misfortune behind us. It was after she
had become seventeen that I dared showing her to my family. Immediately she
stole everyones' heart, so that was set.