Thought Picnic: Back on the treadmill of worthwhile relationships

Like a work of nature

Worthwhile relationships need to be cultivated; they are the product of complex dynamics in our humanity and interactions which I have learnt through experience might be difficult to understand.

This is not a zero-sum game, such that what you put into a relationship is what you get out, the transactional kind carries lofty expectations and extraordinarily little reward along with disappointment and disillusionment.

Cultivating relationships is like farming; you prepare the ground, sow the seeds, and let nature take its course; the sunshine for warmth, the rainwater for life, as the seed germinates, sprouts, grows, and thrives.

There is a concept of time and duration to it that matures relationships. We all need a personal experience and revelation of planting seeds and watching the wonder of nature, from seedtime to harvest.

The work is a cycle

Yet, it is not just about harvesting, it is a continuous cycle of life. Like a farmer, you work the land of relationships and experience the wonder of things you could never have imagined.

Certain emotions come to the fore quite unexpectedly, in how care, concern, and consideration for another create endearingly invisible and significant bonds.

These relationships can be familial, but we are all too aware that blood does not assure the best of relationships, it might be the start of something, but it goes beyond that.

It is in how we choose our partners and friends, and what we do to maintain relationships and maintain is such an inadequate word for it because it is not perfunctory.

Knowing the work that works

Yet, in the moment of vulnerability and adversity, you begin to see the quality and value of relationships, like who is still about watching out for you when there is nothing you can do for them except respond and engage.

Among those relationships that reach deep into the soul of whatever makes us human, you might have a hand and a half to count on.

I have many friends, but I only have a few friendships that are the substance of relationships to be cherished. You cannot account for how others feel about the people you choose to form these relationships with.

It is sometimes interesting to see the perspectives of others and realise how things are different. You should, however, be discerning about cultivating your relationships based on the viewpoints of others, for what is significant and valid for them might not be relevant to you.

And what works for me

As I end this rambling piece that I am not entirely sure makes all that sense, sometimes, we never really know how truly and fondly liked and loved we are by those with whom we have cultivated relationships in the main, and then others who for all sorts of reasons and issues in life might have failed to register until the point where we are sorely missed.

Just to check if I was still with it, before publishing this piece, I did a search on my blog for ‘Cultivating relationships’ and I had written one as recently as last month and then as far back as the year, 2007.

I am onto something. Then, there may be fences to mend and others to abandon, and then certain relationships are, unfortunately, not worth it. Yes, crops do fail. Such is life.

Thought Picnic: How our filters stymie our options

Nothing is for certain

Some things get me thinking about how we have great expectations for encounters in chance situations, setting up stringent requirements to be met, passed on as preferences that invariably lead to disappointment when the options we are presented with give us no choices to select from.

Much as we delude ourselves with the idea that we are open-minded and liberal, in practical terms, we are usually more conservative than would admit to ourselves about what we call preferences. The self-aggrandised level of myopia we select and live with eventually deprives us of the broader landscape of beauty that is laid before us.

Not everyone wins

Too many times, we behave like prospectors at a gold rush, highly optimistic that there is a fortune to be found, ready to till and turn the dirt for that elusive gem and coming up empty-handed after a long day of toil. Yet, we are undeterred hoping that the next day, or the next, or the one after would present in the eventuality that goal for which we might end all toil and witness a different outcome.

Over time, reality sets in that not all of us would be lucky, some might find a gem or two but the rest would steadily be approached by disillusionment as the steady erosion of optimism gives way to a truth we have batted away from the onset. That we arrived with bluster, we may not leave in a cluster, but at a point in stealth, we carry our story back to whence we came either to keep a new found grasp of reality or wait for another dreamy adventure to naught.

Experience teaches hard lessons

I see this is too many places in the quest for the many things that we seek to give life a sense of meaning and being, in career searches, in the need for companionship, or just the momentary fulfilment of lust, and there are many gold rush mines we can visit for which our desires and curiosity would never be sated.

One of life’s greatest lessons is one of contentment, an appreciation of what you have as opposed to what you desire or want, knowing from immemorial that you have a bird in hand rather than the two in the bush, or to paraphrase another saying, if you cannot have what you want; love what you already have.

Appreciate what you have got

Indeed, I need to constantly reassess my priorities and appreciate the many blessings that surround me daily, in the love of my life and our ultimate desire to set up home together. Whilst I would love things to be easier, that easier option may not materialise and we would have to make the best of what we have got for we are not in an impossible situation, we are just somewhere between the dream and the reality that would set things in motion for the next stage of our lives.

Sometimes, I have slapped myself on the cheek to clear my vision, a kind of reset that is usually not as necessary as it seems, if you have given yourself to some reflection and introspection. I have a clear idea of where I want to be, I just need to work at getting there sooner rather than later. Take down the filters and see things as they are, then in the clarity of that vision and perspective do not let the perfect get in the way of the good that you end up with nothing at all.

Be circumspect and realistic with your expectations such that you can manage your disappointments beyond disillusionment, you yourself the instruments of hope that can see beyond the mountain ranges that appear to make your journey an impossible quest to new accomplishments.

A whine on Brexit

It’s off with the wine

A call from Germany, the wine merchant of a number of South African wine estates with the almost cantankerous and affable man at the other end with apologies. Whilst my paid for wine order arrived on Monday, the wine tasting delivery had been returned to sender because of unexplained Brexit-related issues.

I had told a friend or two about joining me for the virtual wine tasting event though yet unsure of whether there will be a delivery. Apart from the first email from UPS indicating an order had been put in motion, there have been no subsequent emails.

The sour taste of air

As I have been regaled with some disappointment, sadly, I have to pass this news on. It does not mean the end of the wine tasting; I am still invited. It will be a social event and we can chat to old friends with the promise of meeting up soon.

It appears we have just acquired a bitter taste of Brexit and no one is either getting drunk or falling into the gutter in apoplectic laughter, talking about it. I will open a bottle of wine because it won’t be fun sipping the air whilst others are quaffing vintage tipple. Helaas!

Annoyed and disappointment doesn't capture it

One is certainly not amused

It probably did not come as a great shock because he is wont to acting with impunity and a sense of superciliousness that has rarely been challenged to the point that it is indeed impunity.

It is his prerogative whatever he decides to do, the affairs he decides to have, and the ones he decides to commit to matrimony, unholy as it is, in every sense and every way. Here we are still mourning the passing of one and put into a situation supplanted by a complete lack of consideration, I am quite incensed.

The name we all share is not in the exclusive preserve of one, not even the patriarch can use the name without an eye on posterity. We have to carry this name forward in deed and in seed. When I was asked on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the extreme how disappointed I was with him, without hesitation, I said 10. There is much to write and it will be written.

Blog - The parable of Henry VIII

Thought Picnic: In sympathy with dashed parental expectations

How they strive

I guess I am one to feel great sympathy for parents, the people who have through the years borne responsibilities whilst striving to ensure that the difficulties and hardships they suffered do not impact on us as much as they can.

The expectations are high, their aspiration even amid the turmoil and turbulence of life to hope that their wards have a considerably better life than they ever had. It becomes the measure of their success to see that happen.

Yet, they realise too late that their offspring is individualistic and unique, independent of thought and aims to the point that they forget when to yield control to this growing object of their once cooing affections who has reached adolescence and then adulthood.

When we fail

Despite their well laid out plans, a child might eventually deviate from the project and offer deliverables that would excite from deep shame and disappointment to effusive pride. No destiny is written anywhere, but the product is a sum of many influences, the parents mostly in the formative years and community, society and beyond shaping the person who emerges.

What does a parent do when a child fails when it appears all opportunities offered have been squandered? The reactions are myriad, some display their disappointment in displeasure leading to estrangement, some find some way to understand the too many factors that might have contributed to that situation, but there is no one answer to that question, it is a tough one.

God help the child through whom their parents intend to live out their dreams. Pushed at every end to perform and excel to the point of exhaustion and resentment. The child becomes one time grateful and at another time hateful. It is not usually a case of the mismanagement of the child, but it can affect relationships.

Knowing the times

The transition of parents from providers and protectors through advisors and confidants to lasting friendships is not one that many parents and children travel. When stuck in the phase of the protector, emotional blackmail ensues, a conversation gets heated and what you hear next is, 'after all, I have done for you?' – add your suffix statement to the end of the sentence.

At the point the parent transitions to an advisor, very useful in development years but aware of the fact that advice is useful, but the decisions are not theirs to take, there is scope for the improvement of relationships towards a respectful distance and understanding that engenders friendship.

Pragmatism allows certain parents to frame their somewhat and sometimes unwelcome advice in helpful and considerate phrasing that brings their ward onside rather than ostracise them.

There would always be issues and areas of life where the parent and child would disagree, that again is a realisation of the fact that genetic provenance does not equate to carbon copy clones of the parent in spirit, soul, and body. That would be unsettling, eerie, and concerning.

From left field

A child would make choices they want to make, some things parents might think are choices might well be a predisposition that child has no control over and nothing the parents could have done in the past could have changed who that child is.

Care should be taken to not attempt to force the child to adhere to particular requirements to satisfy some personal, societal, religious, or communal need. Outlooks would always differ, even at the best of times.

Then comes the question, how does a parent handle sexuality issues, if your child is bisexual, gay, lesbian, or transsexual? That is probably the toughest reality some parents would have to face about their child. Sadly, the shock and confusion that follows can lead to the utterly irrational. The child was no less your child between the day before you knew and the day after it all blasted you in the face.

Dealing in

I could imagine the things running through the mind of a parent and it would be a world of thoughts and expectations, many of which would be dashed because of that revelation. The child would go on to live their lives however they choose if the parent does not do something utterly stupid.

At that point, your acceptance or rejection of your child would not change the state of affairs, and any undue exertion of power or authority would just drive the child into a more accepting environment of the reality of who they are. Some parents would never know the journey of guilt, doubt, angst, despair, fear, and denial that child has scraped through to the point of learning to love themselves enough to express who they are.

What do some parents do? They curse, they swear, they disown, they harm, they fight against it and seek to alter the course of nature. The nature that science has already proven is inherent in the humanity of a child is discounted for the fanciful idea that the child has chosen a lifestyle. If indeed it were a lifestyle, but this is really a life and people have to live with the fact of who they are separate from what others including their parents expect them to be.

Yes, I do sympathise that children may not turn out to be what their parents had hoped their children would become. If the maturity in the parent can see that it is not the end of the world, then, parent and child would respectfully remain friends even though the most difficult crises that dog a lifetime of knowledge, experience, and relationships.

Football: A time to mope

Quite downcast

It is the strangest feeling and emotion that words cannot really be found to express. That low, dark, uncommitted and seemingly resigned state of being that holds you down like you’re beneath the water for longer than you could hold your breath until some reflex lets you bob your head out for a death-defying gulp of air and whatever it might contain.

It was the same feeling I had exactly 8 years ago today when I watched the World Cup final between Spain and the Netherlands, in Spain of all places. I was on holiday in Gran Canaria at the time. I found a bar of fellow Hollanders and the football match at one time looked like a wrestling or mixed martial arts match, with my people from the Netherlands playing a game I never expected of them. We lost.

As the Spaniards rejoiced in their conquering of the world of football, I took a slow, sullen, sad stroll back to my hotel, unable to muster a smile or respond to the revelry that surrounded me. That night, I went to bed and dreamt away my sorrows and relapsed back into holiday mode for the nine days left of it.

Each player a team

Today, like any other time England plays, I knew I could not watch the match, just as I can hardly watch Nigeria play. The tension is just too high for me. I was feeling exhausted by the thought of it at noon. I probably should have acted as if I had no dog in this game for the Netherlands were not in it and I had for the last two World Cups donned my orange colours instead of those of my birth country or the country of my heritage.

Nigeria visited the World Cup and basically took away the trophy for the best kit, their performance was all hype and no goals. Eleven brilliant players playing as eleven amazing teams. Which brings to mind the assessment of one foreign coach about Nigeria. They are so disorganised that the disorganisation will upset structured and organised teams, by that alone, they are able to exploit and win games.

The death knell of Nigeria’s foray was already sounded by Croatia in their first match, now, it is Croatia again who have put a stop to that English anthem that I had dreaded would not come true.

Three lions should take a nap

When England sent Sweden home, I curbed my enthusiasm, when everyone including the Queen’s Guard, yes them, decided to play the Three Lions anthem in front of Buckingham Palace on Saturday evening as I tried to miss the excitement of it all by boarding a train for a 2-hour journey.

For all intents and purposes, the Three Lions song, released for Euro 1996 is a good rallying song, but it is almost too hubristic for my liking. To my mind, it is the worst anthem to have if you have not already won the competition for which it is being sung. This for the simple reason that if we fall short, others would find the means to ridicule us beyond the utterly risible and that is never a comfortable place to be.

I would rather I was singing Football’s Coming Home after the England Team captain has his or her mitts on the trophy. Then, we can celebrate and those waiting to make fun of us if we faltered would have no other choice than to join in our celebrations.

Just what I feared

I returned home from work and went to bed, having a few waking moments to check the live text review of the match between Croatia and England, we scored early but never improved on that scoreline, whilst Croatia equalised and then scored the winning goal in the second half of extra time, the god of miraculous football turnaround having gone to sleep, time seeped away like sand emptying to the force of gravity in an hourglass.

We have only pride to play for in the third-place match against a Belgium who have already trounced us once in the final match of the group stage.

It’s nope for us

It is quite likely that France would lift the cup, but Croatia are not pushovers, they can quite easily become the surprise dark horse of this tournament that left Germany, Argentina, Spain, Portugal and Brazil as has-beens. My money was on Belgium, or rather, my hunch was on Belgium, my money stayed in my pocket.

If I had any consolation, England has won the World Cup in my lifetime, albeit, I was only 7 months old. I think this young England team came well beyond our expectations, their temperamental was even, level-headed and focused. They might soon bring a trophy home. There is hope and there is scope, we would cope, given a moment to mope.

Thought Picnic: It's not the end of my world

Yes, it happens to us all

I have had my share of adversity, disappointment, tribulation, worry and despondency, those experiences have become part of my life.

Some of these events just happened to me, others as a result of injustices I have never been able to right and I must not forget the things I have brought upon myself through my daring or my plain foolishness.

I have my weaknesses and where I have not been able to compensate for them, I have borne the burden in a sense of dignity and acceptance, refusing to condemn myself in the many things that I have allowed.

Be human, then exceed it

That I have felt shocked, hurt, belittled, beaten, disrespected, shamed or even disgraced is beside the point, I have allowed just enough time to expend the emotion necessary to reaffirm the fact that I am human and then found ways to reflect, recoup, readjust and rejuvenate myself.

I am thankful that perspective comes quickly before the nasty takes root. Much as I cannot suddenly switch off from the fact that my pride has been battered and my ego bruised, I can begin to climb out of the well of despair and chart my course away from that rotten milestone.

Start off again

Looking for something positively enlivening to do, I flush out of my memory for the moment, that thing that apparently brought me down and leap ahead.

The opportunity once lost can be regained, after a temporary setback; the stress creating issue needn’t be stressful if I decide to extricate myself from the situation; the loss I suffered is just the loss of things, things can be replaced; plans can be rethought, ideas can be reviewed, life can be refreshed – there is happiness out there waiting to be worn with the fun, the glee and the gaiety of childhood expressed on a sunny day in wonderland playground.

It is at that point that I realise two important things about life’s many disappointments and harbingers of sadness that first, it is not the end of the world and then, it is not the end of my world.

Thought Picnic: By chance, for choice, to certainty

The chance unsure

Chance is very unpredictable being the harbinger of luck or disappointment, the effect which can presage significant life-changing situations, it is the precursor of uncertainty.

Yet, we leave a lot to chance with the hope that things would yield a result we have no certainty we would get. Even if we are not certain, it probably cannot be planned to ensure the outcome we desire.

The choice-less chance

In a lottery and many other areas of life, we get hopeful, raise our expectations and sometimes begin to daydream, building castles in the air, even daring to create kingdom and empires in our minds, drifting away from our reality and almost succumbing to delirium.

Sometimes we think that abundance offers options and take the chance that we might find suitable choices, yet having many choices does not mean we would find a suitable match.

Know your chance from your choice

This is evident in trying to start relationships and finding out that we might be in vast populations and yet be alone and lonely, not finding a partner we can choose from the chances we have to meet many who come into and leave our lives.

Sometimes, we might find that chance in life for happiness that sometimes eludes many, but we cannot live by chance and hope that choice would create certainty.

Use chance sparingly, take choice with wisdom and celebrate certainty as a blessing, they are gifts to life.

Opinion: Watching the tombstones of integrity long dead

A great disappointment

A simple definition of integrity as offered by Google is the quality of being honest and having strong moral principles; moral uprightness.

Where we find leadership wanting in honesty, trustworthiness and truth, we lose our confidence in the people to the point that their leadership becomes untenable.

A damaged relationship

In a democracy, those who lead have responsibilities that derive from the consent of their electors, there is trust reposed in the elected to act in the best interest of all with fairness, truth, justice and principle.

We damage this dynamic irreparably if in the face of manifest wrongdoing, those we expect to know different acquiesce, condone, tolerate and excuse the reprehensible without shame or embarrassment.

An embarrassment of atrocities

A leadership unable to react with contrition and take reparative steps out of embarrassing actions of their cohort have taken licence to act with impunity.

They have become wayward, lascivious and debauched, reprobates beyond redemption whose end like history told many times before is utter destruction because the instruments of accountability that could have checked their excesses is too compromised to moderate anything they do.

What gives?

This is the story of many lands to which we owe allegiance, and if we are to rid ourselves of the unconscionable grip of the kakistocracy that holds sway like a swarm of locusts over our fields of grain, we must give voice to the need for truth, probity and justice.

Many events we have read in the news recently point to the moral bankruptcy of those we trust; we can only wonder what to do to rescue this atrocious set of circumstances.

We have to think about what this means for us as country, as a people and for the future.

Thought Picnic: More Tests ...

Of expectations

The day came with uncertainties and the answer to yesterday’s question is, I am sad. The first meeting was laden with expectations, at least that is what the nurse and the psychologist suggested, these people are clued in, they know what to do and they have solutions, the urgencies and immediacies will be assuaged with ease.

I soon became aware that they do not talk to each other and the view that things might have moved on from where they were left soon was discarded – I had to tell my story again, a third time to people who seemingly interact, but the object of interact is not the files, data or notes but the subject – I was the subject in this case.

Apparently, having lived on continental Europe for 12 years and now returned for the UK for one long year, left me rather bereft of some of the rights that UK residents would have been able to subscribe to – it was disheartening.

Of options

The picture painted even got gloomier as my countenance changed, I could feel the welling of my tear ducts but, I held it all back, I am the cast of my macabre drama, I cannot inflict any more hurt on myself than what I have suffered apart from a looming prospect of destitution and vagrancy – has it really come to this? The way it seems, it has.

There is no breeding, class, education, life, luck or fortune that is not represented in the homeless class and they all have stories just as good as mine, if not better of events in their lives that led to where they have found themselves.

The meeting ended with a list of numbers, addresses and ideas but without certainty, assurance or confirmation, I was forlorn. As it transpired, he had enough examples of people in my situation they could not help, I should have asked myself aloud – why am I in this meeting?

Of strangers

I gathered my thoughts in a few tweets as time passed, another 40 minutes before I meet my new consultant; at least that is what I expected.

She came to get me from the reception and as she introduced herself, confusion clouded my face, I had to interject – that is not the name of the person I was expecting to see and no one informed me in the almost 7 weeks since the appointment was made that the consultant had changed.

She was to do his rounds and by interference she had only leafed through my medical notes that appeared to contain the amalgamated detail from the Netherlands, Wales and the new interactions I have had since June.

Of preparedness

Again, by the first question, it was not so much my filling in the gaps but a new narration of the same tale that was already becoming a recital and performance at each gathering, I was not too pleased.

With time, I commandeered the notes myself, linking the data from the Netherlands to the information from Wales, whilst charting a historical progression of the tales of the bloods which on a chart would have looked like a jagged-saw graph, the current readings on a depression after what was the best indicator noted in almost 4 years.

Eventually, we warmed to each other, though not to the level I was accustomed to in the Netherlands, we discussed my drug regime, my options and additional tests.

Of innards

To be honest, I was not keen on being probed or prodded any further today, I was barely keeping up with myself on a mentally distressed level but in the process, we settled for 2 vials at the phlebotomist’s, prescriptions to last 4 months, which is unusual because beyond 3 months in the Netherlands, insurance requires you pay for the extra and then be reimbursed. I did not have €2,700 in my pocket in December when I was last in the Netherlands, so I left with 3 months of medication even though my consultant had prescribed 6 months with consideration of the fact that I was then resident in the UK.

I will also be visiting the imaging department, having secured an appointment for a month hence, I am to fast for 6 hours ingesting nothing but fluids prior to the largest organ in my body scanned – Gosh! I have pretty much really mucked my life up too seriously to unravel in one short afternoon.

In between all this, I also saw the pharmacist who ensured my prescription went ahead to the pharmacy that I did not have to wait as long as 30 minutes to pick them up.

Of life

At the end of all these meetings, I was not in the mood to socialise, I got on the train and made my way home, burdened with an existence that clouded the glimmer of hope I had earlier in the day and smarter for the fact that I refused to take on more than what I thought I should handle in one day as advice from other friends came in.

As I stepped out of the station, a man approached me, “Please can you help a homeless man with some change for a cup of tea?” He said. But for his skin tone, I might well have been looking in a mirror, though, it was a mirror of circumstances looming as I emptied the coins into the palm of his hand, I said to him, “I will be homeless from tomorrow.”

I made for the place I had called home for the last 5 weeks, tomorrow being my last day, found a short break from my turmoil with some sleep and woke up to write this before I start to pack my bags and think of what really will tomorrow bring – there is no point asking if I will be happy or sad, any comfort will do to find a place to lay my weary head.

Thought Picnic: Be mindful your heart does not turn to stone

Words are lost

Numbness to handle the hurt but the hurt lingers longer than it is comfortable to bear that one is lost for words. So I find a jumble of letters to throw together in the hope that clarity will come, not out of luck but of determination to think it through. Confused.

For words do go a long way but I encountered a hermetically sealed organ impervious to the penetrative efficacy of words that I balked – This is not normal. Scared.

The code is cryptic, the words knotted into a conundrum that the writer alone can decipher – my ROTAS Square. Obfuscated.

Never before

My peace deserted me as I sought what I thought will help for I am a man who has seen what life can throw to unravel the sturdiest of dispositions and the most determined of characters. Perplexed.

As I learnt of my limitations to my shock one could only resort to inquiry, determine the cause and engage the knowledgeable to arrest a possible breakdown. Concerned.

Strong voices of those who could bring about change lent their wisdom and there seemed to be hope in the horizon but not far enough to see the desired outcome. Encouraged.

Don’t be nasty

However, on observing the impulsive bordering on the irrational, the genius of madness and the madness of genius has with maddening ingenuity deprived itself of its staunchest ally in an expression of irascible truculence; I am blown away. Befuddled.

Why do we compound hurt to maximise self-centred megalomania? Unimpressed.

No man is an island, but if you burn your boat before you have acquired all the supplies to live on your desert island, when your thirst comes and delirium sets in, not for the euphoria of the rescue from being a castaway but the rescue of an avoidable end, only the bones will tell the tale that footsteps once trod those sands. Marooned.

The message in a bottle might tell of who it was. Revealed.

Be mindful not heartless

My disappointment is palpable but I will hold my peace, the offence is great to many beyond the little world of self-satisfied resolution that exemplifies the many flaws we have overlooked, for a greater being exists that has so suddenly gone to ground. Displeased.

In a world where hearts and minds matter, be mindful that your once tender and loving heart does not turn to stone. Admonished.

Hup! Hup! Holland! You did well

Where we watched it

And so my World Cup ended with a quiet walk from the Dutch corner of Playa del Inglés – Gran Chaparral where the pub offered big screens and commentary in English.

A majority of patrons were in their orange colours with a few errant boys rooting for Spain, I watched the full 120 minutes of the game I would take nothing away from the performance and spirit of our boys – they played their hearts out and only a few minutes would have turned it into the lottery of penalties.

We’ll meet again

That part I would have been unable to watch anyhow, but that is the game of football and 2014 beckons whilst 2018 is when we host the World Cup with Belgium.

Nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of disappointment I felt for my adopted country where I have lived for 10 years only to experience their being beaten whilst holidaying in Spain by Spain.

Just as I shared the excitement of all their victories I found I was not able to celebrate their loss by loving Spain, I received commiserations and congratulated those who I knew would feel my pain but there is no point waiting to watch the presentations or much else.

Viva España

Vuvuzelas were not needed on the main streets, everyone who had a car had their horns blaring at full volume even one of the buses gave a full blast of ululation for the Spanish victory.

I kept my orange vest on and just thought about what might have been, for the third time, our little Dutch nation has just come short and not for the want of trying.

Viva España but the spirit of Dutch football shall never die, we have come this far again, only time with tell when we would lift the World Cup as victors – Hup! Hup! Holland! You did well.