Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end.
So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.
You are correct: cheese is legal in Holland. In fact, my wife and I enjoyed some when we honeymooned there in '76. Uh-oh, I just remembered she bought one of those Delft Blue cheese slicers, because it was so pretty and all. I'm sure it was buried in the middle of some big box of "Kitchen" stuff when we moved back to the States, but should it have been registered or something? I mean, you can cut stuff with it. Aww, man...
Hey, these comments don't get scraped by any gov-bots, do they? I'd hate to have the authorities banging on my door in the dead of night and demanding that slicer.
This took me back to the 60's. We lived in the thumb of Michigan (it's shaped like a hand) and my grandparents lived in Rochester, NY. Every summer we'd travel across lower Ontario through Niagara Falls to visit them. Mom had bought some Limburger cheese in Canada and not wanting to pay a duty, placed the package in the glove box.
When we arrived at her parent's home, everyone had forgotten about the cheese ... until several days later when it was 'well-cooked' by the heat. That odor was still there when we returned home two weeks later.
I held the whole matter of the existence of Santa Claus in the realm of the dubious (but useful) until I was twelve. I did not then decide on the facts available (they were, after all, contradictory) but stayed awake all night to see for myself. Having ascertained the truth from this experiment, I had the good sense not to noise it abroad and so ensured continuation of the tradition for a few more years.
Interestingly, my son, Mad, managed to keep the thing going well into his late teens, even though we all knew that he knew and he knew that we knew. He was always a charming blighter...
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