There is a banana bike in my living room!

Better half got himself a new banana bike, after the old banana bike was recently smashed by a moped. He didn't like the idea of leaving it outside tonight, as he didn't feel very confident about the combination of large numbers of people on the streets + lots of alcohol + fireworks. So he parked it in the living room. I suggested turning it into a lovely planter, but he said 'no'. Pewp.

It's over!

With gnomes often come associations of cute, cuddly, happy, joyous creatures. So it would make sense that Xmas is our favorite time of year.

Not this gnome. Xmas just isn't my thing. Not that I don't like the occasional present (thank you for my amazing new bag, better half!), but it just doesn't make up for all the forced family visits, mandatory (usually fake) joy and glee, crazy sales with aggressive shoppers (yeah, that has to be the spirit of Christmas!), tree decorating hassle and endlessly repeated songs.

Call me a Grinch, but if it were up to me, I'd just hibernate my way through winter: close the curtains and curl up with a book by the fire. Preferably with a hot cocoa and some chocolate chip cookies.

The only thing about Xmas that does make me happy, are the lights. All the pretty colors! Shiny!

Tribute

I've seen them in the surrounding landscape quite a few times, the blue and white poles with a red plane or boat on top. Recently one surfaced fairly close to my home:

I've wondered many times what they meant. There is an aviation museum not too far from here, with quite a few classical airplanes, so I thought they might be related. I was wrong.

We live in a polder. According to Wikipedia, there are three types of polder. Obviously we live on the first type: reclaimed land. When the dykes were built and the water was drained, many ships and planes that had lain at the bottom of the sea for years (some even centuries!) were uncovered. Apart from being a humongous archeological find, there is also an emotional aspect to it. So many sailors and aviators that never made it home. So as a tribute, each spot where a wreckage was found, is given a visual marker.

The one near my house belongs to an Avro Lancaster bomber, that flew a sortie during WWII and never returned. In fact, it never even made it to Germany, as it crashed on the way there. It belonged to the No. 57 Squadron of the RAF Bomber Command, resulting in the loss of 7 young sergeants. Sad as it may be, it's good to remember.