April 2001 Archives
I was born 38 years ago in a hospital on Overtoom, in the city of Amsterdam. It was 6pm. My dad said: 'She's got big feet'. [ me, today ]
I was named after my grandmother, and also after princess Caroline of Monaco, I think. I was to be the only child in my parents' marriage and neither of them had any outside of the marriage which lasted 12 years.
As a kid I thought I was going to be an air hostess (though I would have preferred to be a pilot, unthinkable in those days), or a vet, an actress or a writer. As a teenager, I wanted to be a PE teacher but I applied, in vain, to become a journalist. Instead I studied English and Dutch, but didn't finish.
I made rash choices along the way - never thinking, always feeling. Somehow, things worked out all right. I'm not succesful, but I'm not poor. I'm not an actor or a vet, but I do write and have seen a lot of the world, though not as an air hostess.
My life didn't turn out the way I thought - but I never did envisage 'marriage, kids' anyway - the thought never occurred to me.
There's beauty in my life. On rare occasions. It's what I live for.
I am positive that today, tomorrow, will be better than yesterday.
When I was 11, the school of music in Hilversum where I sang in a choir and took my pianolessons organised an evening for the parents to come watch their kids perform. I remember I was on fairly late on the bill (i.e. they must have thought I did well) and my mother and grandparents came to see me play.
My dad had left us by then.
My teacher had given me a piece to play that I found fairly difficult. It had a lot of notes running off the scale and I was crap at reading notes. I think I only managed to play it faultlessly once before performance night. The performance was a blur, I remember making one mistake but otherwise doing well.
Afterwards, holding my mum's hand, one of the other parents came up to tell my mum he'd enjoyed my performance. I was well chuffed. (In hindsight, perhaps he was just hitting on my mum, who was a very beautiful woman)
It was the last time she saw me play. My mother went into hospital soon after that, never came out and died 7 months after.
I've been buying all my old study books and since I got the piano on Friday, I've been working my way through every piece I was ever taught. I found the one I performed that night. I've been trying to play it, but I'll need some serious practice.
The thing that struck me was the title. It's called 'Farewell'.
Moose, Muse.ie's fab mailing list are calling it a day. I guess they ran out of funds. From their last issue this little gem. It's from a bit of blather about a fictitious band they named The Hoors:
This week, we join The Hoors in a swanky rehearsal studio somewhere on Dublin's docklands as they decide who will accompany them on their huge Irish tour. [ ... ] There's The Corrs but all the band think that they're just a bland approximation of what an Irish family would sound like if they were produced by Yanks and weren't allowed into the studio when recording was in progress.
Spot on. I'll miss my Moosie.
As it happens the Corrs are live on television as I write this. I cannot get over how incredibly dull and shallow their music is.
There should be a punishment for being given the talent of music and not knowing what to do with it. I suggest a good whipping.
