Dutch trains have – for the non-Dutch – an odd 1st/2nd class arrangement. At least on the Sprinter train I took from Bloemendaal to Amsterdam. The 1st class section – blue seats – is in the middle of the coach and is book-ended by two 2nd class compartments - red seats - at each end of it. But there's no sign on the internal doors. So, ignoring all the people standing outside because of insufficient seats, I went and sat in the 1st class compartment. And then I saw – just about - a small number 1 in the top left-hand corner of the headboard at the end of the compartment and figured this was the explanation for all the empty seats where I was and all the people standing outside the doors. Discreet, these Dutch. I weighed up whether to stay and blague my way through any problems with an inspector but, when the train stopped at an interim station, I seized the chance to grab a vacated seat in the 2nd class bit. No such arrangement on the intercity train from Amsterdam to Hilversum - destined for Berlin - where entire coaches were 2nd class.
For some reason I'm dipping into Le Morte d'Arthur on my Kindle. The chapter I started with this morning is entitled How the Eleven Kings with their Host Fought against Arthur and his host and many great feats of the war. 'Host' in this case meaning many people. This is merely an endless recitation of limbs being hacked off and named knights and their horses being felled. Interesting, it ain't. Worse, it's followed by chapters entitled:-
Yet of the Same Battle[sic]
Yet more of the Same Battle
Yet More of the Same Battle and how it was ended by Merlin.
All but the last of these is nothing but the same endless gore-fest as the first. One suspects that readers at the time of its publication were not only very into this sort of thing but also had a high boredom threshold. At least the next chapter concerns itself with King Arthur sleeping with his sister, begetting her a child and then having some regrets. And concern about divine anger and likely retribution. As you would. Especially back then.
Yesterday, I went with my friends to the Romanovs (uncheap) exhibition in Amsterdam's Hermitage Museum. Being now of a sceptical Spanish disposition, I couldn't bring myself to believe the last exhibit really was one of the bayonets used to stab the princesses who didn't die because their jewel-encrusted corsets stopped the rifle bullets. I mean . . . have they done DNA tests on the blood remains - if there are any - on the weapon?
Anyway, I'm again short of time, so here is a link to 3 very funny videos about Dutch meetings.
Finally . . . One of the many, many Trump cartoons I could've selected. Some say it won't be possible but I believe our only hope is to mock the man until his emotional stability causes him to blow up and break down. Or persuades someone to top him:-