Tag Archives: alcohol


It’s one of the strangest substances. It is wildly craved for amongst those who are not legally allowed to take it yet, and yet it’s a cause of very many unpleasant accidents globally.

I don’t drink alcohol. I have no idea what the fuzz is all about. I am of an age that I’m allowed to drink it, but I just never saw the fun in it, I suppose.

It started as a commitment with my parents, who stated that whomever could hold their drinking (I have some siblings) until the age of 18, could have their driver’s license, and our parents would pay for it. That was enough for me to not even try. Though funnily, I actually hate driving, I somehow noticed that drinking was ‘wrong’, so I didn’t feel like trying.

Don’t I EVER drink then? Yes, of course. I will take a sip of something my father swears ‘you will like it, I promise’. He knows my taste really well. He will also make jokes about it though:
“Here, you want to sniff it? Dangle your tongue in it?” and I’ll go:
‘Oh, ALRIGHT then?!’ and indeed, I will like it. Usually this is some heavy booze, and after that one drop, I start giggling, he pushes me away saying ‘OK, you’re drunk, now get out!’ and that’s it.
In honesty, I have tried to become truly drunk once. I had mixed (in a small glass) 1/3 of red wine (I have no idea which kind, but it must have been a good type, it was that sort of party) with 2/3 of peach ice tea (yes, really). I did quite like that combo. I drank about 3 of those glasses, after which I could no longer stand on my legs. Which someone at that party (who I massively fancied) quite liked and so I was dangling in their arms for the rest of the night. To both our very confused minds the next morning.

Because yes, that was the side effect: waking up the next morning and thinking: ‘oh FECK what happened?!’

Except for New Year’s Eve, I just don’t drink. I don’t have any real reasons for it, except I don’t like it. A sip every now and then maybe, but that’s about it. Which means I can go ages with having only a sip or two on an annual base, to be fair. And I’m quite alright with that. The funny thing is: usually people don’t even notice I don’t drink. Due to my incredibly bad social skills, I’ll state the kind of things that makes even friends go:
“Whoa, I’d need to have drunk at least an entire bottle of wine to say such a thing?!” and no, I’m not necessarily rude, I just say weird things, is all.

Then again, I do usually like places where people drink. The mood it brings them in, the coziness, the jokes, theĀ  ‘easier-to-cuddle-without-necessary-explanation’ I like that.

So no, I don’t drink it, but I don’t mind others using it at all. Alcohol can be good, as long as you know your limits. One should NEVER drink and think: ‘I can still drive’. It’s never true. Never.

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Posted by on March 17, 2018 in Daily life, Opinion, Uncategorized




De roman, door Pepijn Lanen. Na Sjeumig, wat ik briljant geschreven vond -ik ben misschien een ietwat bevooroordeeld- wilde ik deze natuurlijk ook lezen.

Aanvankelijk vond ik de titel wat fantasieloos, toen ik het las begreep ik het. Toch had ik een andere titel gekozen. De naamloze, bijvoorbeeld. Ik vind het, vanuit PR-visie, geen pakkende titel.

Hoe dan ook, onze naamloze gaat een maand alcoholloos door en neemt ons op z’n schouder mee door de avonturen die hierbij gepaard gaan. Prachtig spitsvondige zinnen, af en toe Terug Naar Oegstgeest-achtige uitstapjes, maar dan toch weer afgebroken. En bovendien richting Utrecht, waar de schrijver zelf vandaan komt.
Zelf ben ik iemand die eigenlijk nooit gedronken heeft en alle verdovende middelen -op chocola na- links heb laten liggen, en vanuit die nuchtere optiek kan ik me niet voorstellen hoe je je ouderlijk huis zelfs niet zou herkennen als je erlangs loopt. Misschien heb ik het mis, want zoals ik al zei: geen ervaring mee.

Ergens is het verhaal ook beangstigend, omdat je je realiseert: het zal ongetwijfeld dagelijks mensen overkomen; dat ze niet meer weten wie ze zijn. Door drankgebruik, Alzheimer, geweld van buitenaf, noem maar op. En wie informeert je dan wie je bent? Als je, zoals de hoofdpersoon, zelfs je bankpas niet meer kan lezen? Zij die over die informatie gaan, delen het niet zomaar met je. In die zin intrigerend.

Het boek leest lekker weg, prima voor wat verloren uurtjes in de trein, of zondag met thee/koffie/warme choco op de bank.

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Posted by on March 1, 2016 in Books, Opinion, Uncategorized


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