Hi! Since you're visiting here, I'd like to ask you something.
I really love to read. No, REALLY love to read. In bed, on the toilet, in public transport, while eating breakfast... Always, everywhere. And I know plenty of beautiful books and good writers. But I'm sure there's many more that I don't know about.
So if you have a favourite book, or writer, please tell me! I'd like to hear your tips.
My personal favourite writers are, in no specific order:
- Neil Gaiman
- Terry Pratchett
- Orson Scott Card
- John Irving
- Jack Vance
- Poppy Z. Brite
- Michel Faber
- Keri Hulme
- China Miéville
The quick guide to pronouncing Sloebertje: oe like the oo in book, er like in butter, j like y in yes and the end e like in butter. So, that's:
sloo - berr - t - yuh
I'll bet you never even knew you wanted to know that.
The real Sloebertje was my parents' cat. She had been there for almost a year already when I was born. In my family even the cat was older than I was...
Eager for guidance and learning, I used to follow Sloebertje around the house on my hands and knees, going where she went, doing what she did. I had some trouble licking my own back though, and I never tried the dried cat food, it smelled fishy.
Sloebertje liked lying in the sun. Her favorite place was right on top of the small hill my mother grew her heather on. Her fur was black (except for her nose, paws and belly, which were white) and after an afternoon of dozing in the sunlight she used to be almost too hot to touch.
Sloebertje loved whipped cream. Whenever she heard the sound of the mixer she'd come running to the kitchen and try to trip us so someone'd drop the bowl... When the bowl was empty she'd get to eat the bits that were left. The bowl was a bit higher than wide and to get to the bits at the bottom Sloebertje would worm herself in and, while licking, push the bowl forward until it got stuck somewhere, usually against a wall.
When she got old and deaf, she couldn't hear the mixer anymore and we used to put the bowl under her nose to make clear there was whipped cream to be had. She would then run from the other side of the house to the kitchen and wait there for the bowl to arrive.
I'll never know what she thought of me, crawling after her and slobbering out of her water bowl like some idiot dog. But she was always nice to me.
- André Hazes
- Dutch coffee
- toilet paper
- camel library