| Tally-ho! |
|
It can be such a challenge, don't you think, to oppose something that was dreamt up with the best intentions. Take the North South Link in Amsterdam, of which we've all been wondering for years whether it is or isn't ever going to materialise. Hopelessly off-target as this megalomaniacal plan to cut a subterranean swathe right across the city may be, it is implausible that it was originally conceived by a bunch of crooks who have been defending it to the hilt ever since. Rather, it's probably another example of a bloke who thought it was a good idea at the time, and who has simply overstated the benefits. It's not easy to become genuinely angry at such a person, which makes him (or her) a daunting opponent whom you can't simply dispose of by calling them thick either, as lack of intelligence is always difficult to prove. Give me a bunch of crooks any day, at least in this kind of context. I must admit that I can empathise with some of the good eggs, though. When finally after half a century the Amsterdam inner city is casting off some of its grime and litter, it's only to be expected that the official in charge should be overcome by anxiety attacks featuring flagpoles. However, I'm not at all convinced of the use and the cultural or even economic boost of the seating standard as applied in the city of Groningen, where all publicans are under a municipal diktat to furnish their pavement cafés using strictly wicker seating only. Even the local museum, whose pavement café used to be peppered with yellow designer chairs as the ultimate fashion statement has bluntly had an order slapped on it by the Seating Inquisition of the North to remove the offending articles. In my view this makes Groningen a strong candidate. But let's cast our nets a bit further before we decide on who should be presented with the Trophy. The Dutch word for trophy, "bokaal", has a slightly Belgian ring to it, and rightly so, for if there's one nation on earth that relentlessly gives the impression of having only the best of intentions, surely that nation would have to be Belgium. Not for nothing was "A man of good intentions" by Flemish author, Gerard Walschap, included in my high-school list of "must-read" books. This is precisely what makes it so incredibly difficult to mount an adequate protest against the new Dutch spelling rules. And although the Dutch are obviously not to be accused of malicious intent in this context either, I'm convinced that had the committee members been pitted against the Flemish as participants in the annual National Dictation Contest* prior to being allowed to make their final decision, we would have been spared a lot of spelling misery. But then there's Amsterdam. In terms of awarding of the Trophy, it has long stopped being of any relevance whatsoever whether the North South Link will ever be realised: the objective suffices. Surely it's the barmiest plan ever since the Low Countries inundated themselves in an attempt to stop the Spanish dead in their tracks. Isn't this a perfect example of that quaint old-fashioned expression, Throwing out the baby with the bath water? All the same I have more than enough natural generosity in me not to force those lefties, who in their current conduct are still seeking compensation for the Nieuwmarkt riots in the 1960s, to go to ground over a hundred feet underneath Dam Square, even if they consider the Bijenkorf department store's proprietary brand clothing as the ultimate proof of having achieved their ultimate goal in life. I am aware of how spiteful this must sound, but that's inevitable in a situation where a bunch of ideologists consider the establishment of a casino at the heart of an urban district that craves culture as an enhancement. All the same and for this very reason, and partly with a view to the criterion of human dimensions, it's Groningen with its wicker seating that must prevail. And so the first Trophy goes to the North. * The "Nationaal Dictee" (National Dictation) is an annually televised spelling aptitude contest in which a group of people, half of them Dutch and the other half Flemish and including quite a few celebrities to spice things up a bit, lock horns linguistically, with the Flemish invariably coming out on top. |