Months ago, the Man and I came across a new furniture brand: KILO. Small stools were on display in the shop of the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam. They caught my eye because one: they came in lovely colours; two: their design was lovely; three: they were made of plywood; four: they came in flat packs to take with you. We almost bought a stool at the spot, but the package was a bit too heavy to carry around in public transport. We did take a folder home to be able to order online.
As always the folder ended up on our dining table and on top of it grew a never ending pile of stuff. A couple of weeks ago I rediscovered the folder in a futile attempt to get rid of that pile. The stool still looked lovely and after being, once again, annoyed with the lack of a proper side-table next to the couch (something to do with Daughter using it as chair for one of her cuddle toys (the ones we use now are made of cardboard and are strong enough to sit or stand on (and were so cheap I couldn’t care less about them getting broken so Daughter is allowed to used them as she pleases (but they are so well designed they don’t break (and how do you break cardboard anyway))))) the Man finally entered the magic numbers in KILO’s online shop.
Yesterday the package arrived. The promise KILO makes: no screws, nails or glue. That is true. It did take a hammer and quite some effort from my arm to hammer the stool into shape, though (and patience from Daughter who wanted to play with the hammer). I had to improvise a bit as well when I hit one of its legs a millimeter too far, preventing the other to slide into place, but I managed to correct my error (causing a tiny crack in the coating). It is such a tight fit, I don’t think I will be ever able to take it apart again. The end result is our own kiloBar (colour Pewter). We’ll test drive this one to see if more will follow. First impression: it wobbles a tiny bit (with four legs, that’s almost always the case).
This long read by Andrew Brown for The Guardian is well worth your time. I found it a difficult read though, since the phenomenon it describes is so far apart from my own views, that I often had to reread sentences multiple times before I could overcome my own cognitive dissonance.
I’m deep into editing a documentary (not meant for public viewing) and with the amount of interviews I’ve done (eight) it’s like solving a jigsaw puzzle, yet I have random pieces that I have to shape individually to make them fit together, all the while knowing I’ll never be able to replicate the image on the box.
When one of the biggest companies in the world has a communication strategy targeting a specific journalist, you know who’s on the right side of the truth.
But when I recently received close to 50 pages of internal Monsanto communications about the company’s plans to target me and my reputation, I was shocked.
I’m just one person, just one reporter working from a home office in the midwest, juggling three kids with irregular writing deadlines. So the knowledge that a multibillion-dollar corporation spent so much time and attention trying to figure out how to thwart me is terrifying.I’m a journalist. Monsanto built a step-by-step strategy to destroy my reputation (by Carey Gillam for The Guardian)
Jamie Cullum released a new album last June. I was kinda caught up in traveling to Canada and France, but today I had a good listen to it and one line caught my attention:
So here comes your European exitfrom The Age of Anxiety by Jamie Cullum
With asylum seekers in your attic
I found the full lyrics of this song online. They sum up pretty much current political climate and how to deal with, especially in Britain. Great atmosphere in the song. Shivers down my spine towards the end. Listen and watch it:
Ik kreeg de indruk dat ik de enige was die het best gek vond niet in het Nederlands te kunnen bestellen bij verschillende restaurants in de Amsterdamse grachtengordel. Gelukkig blijk ik niet de enige te zijn. Het fenomeen heb ik inmiddels ook in Utrechtse winkels bespeurd.
Ik vraag me trouwens af: zou er nog een ander land ter wereld zijn waar een andere taal dan de lokale de boventoon begint te voeren? Ik ken ze niet, maar ik heb dan ook niet de hele wereld bezocht. Ken jij een ander voorbeeld?