Madness - anal and otherwise

Back from the madness of Amsterdam. And it truly is a surreal place, even when doing quite ordinary things and not perusing the latest wares in the Red Light District (or on porn channel number #459, but more about that later).

First surreal moment-to-remember was at that most crucially ritualistic of social events, the wedding. This wedding was particularly interesting because it represented nothing less than a clash of civilisations - Dutch and English. You probably think I'm being dramatic, but let me tell you, they have very different ways of celebrating nuptials. Actually, the Dutch have different ways of celebrating everything for one very significant reason: they never, ever dress up. For this wedding, the bride (who is English) had gone to the trouble of setting up an entire website devoted to the intracies of an English wedding (this was not to be a harmonious blending of tradition, more a delicately rose-scented form of cultural imperalism). The website included an entire section on dress code. To protect the guilty (who will be shamed below) I won't include the link but here's an extract:

"The Bride will be wearing white, or off white (she is pure, but not that pure) so it would be plain rude for any other Female Guest to turn up in White or off White. Likewise Black is a big no no. Sorry, but [bride] likes to think this is a 'Wedding' not a 'Funeral' (Well it is for [the groom]). Anything else in-between is fine. It will be a smart occasion so wear a dress or smart clothes where no black or white can be seen. No Jeans and casual clothes."

I have to admit that I was a bit rebellious and wore a black and white dress - but I did get prior approval from the bride, and had my makeup professionally done (not that you can tell in the photos, I look awful, and so none will be posted here). The photo above is an example we were provided with, although thankfully no-one recreated that particular outfit. Maybe they should have - one of the Dutch guests actually turned up in sneaker boots, and others in white suits the type a divorcee might reasonably wear at their second wedding. Even the bridal party seemed rather nonplussed about their "penguin suits", as I heard one of them utter. Normally I wouldn't be so indignant about fashion, most of my own wardrobe coming from the racks of H&M, but I had spent a fortune on my own dress and makeup and was wishing I was allowed to waltz in wearing nothing but tracksuit pants and an old Bonds singlet instead of downing glasses of red wine to dull the pain of my very high heels. Ok, I never actually wear tracksuits, but you get the point. I don't know what it is about weddings, they always sound like such a lovely idea but seem to require a marathon runner's stamina to survive, especially if you are single and being touted round to potential partners ("you know what they say about weddings", etc etc). It was quite a relief to go home to my beloved friend whom we shall call Birdy, and explore the cornucopia that the cable channels offered us.

Unfortunately, being Amsterdam, this wasn't just any old cable. After 8 hungover hours being brainwashed by E! television on Saturday, we were quite shocked to discover the availability of porn just two channels up the dial next to Eurosport 1 (conveniently located one click away for guilty husbands, I bet). The porn however was so bad it was good, many an entertaining hour could be had glued to "Anal Madness" or "Gusher Girls". Admittedly we decided to cook burritos and margaritas and watch the entire second series of LOST instead. (Ok, so we just had wine, not having the ingredients or in fact any knowledge of the ingredients of margaritas, apart from vague notions about tequila). I don't know which could drive you mad faster - E's "Starlicious Plastic Surgery Makeovers" or margaritas.

Whatever it was, something blew a fuse in my head and last night saw the resurgence of my madness when I decided to have far too many beers with Mr Unrequited. (Well how could my love life be such a car crash without these recurring acts of stupidity?) I am attempting to patch up our friendship, and friendship is all it is, but it's going to be a superhuman battle against myself. (My boss always says I really should patent the movie rights. This script is even going to challenge the heart-wrenching acting talents of ... Tom Hanks. Now that's a bad movie!) But seriously it is a problem I have, holding on to these people who I value so much but have to let go in order to meet another one. I guess it's hard to go back when you've crossed an emotional line.

And, in one last ditch attempt at madness (or maybe to drown its effects in self-destructive behaviour), despite last night's beers I'm off to once again drown my sorrows ....but this time on a good girlfriend's balcony.