A real Limburger
While a large number of Limburgers celebrate Carnival, I just sit at my workplace, take photos, edit them and place them with the texts of the new flea market finds. I will continue styling for the Spring open days. Nothing around me gives away that it is carnival. I even removed the heading 'Carnival' from my website because almost all items related to the carnival have been sold.
A few hundred meters from home, the parade will soon pass by and I won't experience anything.
That's not sad, I choose it. I choose to work in and around my shop. The radio softly in the background and the wonderfully soothing lavender scent that spreads from the diffuser when I am working on the computer.
Someone said: 'A real Limburger celebrates Carnival!' I was born in Limburg and I have lived here for 55 years, but that does not make me a real Limburger, because I do not celebrate carnival...
Would that be the definition of a Limburger? I have no idea and it doesn't really interest me either.
There have been years when I couldn't imagine life without carnival. I thought about what I was going to wear months in advance and my mother spent many hours behind the sewing machine. I helped build carnival floats and walked in the parade. And after the parade I continued to party happily, until the last minute.
But somewhere it diminished and the fire went out. I don't actually know where it went 'wrong'.
In the meantime, I don't like it at all anymore and I don't even want to think about putting on a crazy outfit and going somewhere with my face painted. I think I lost my humor somewhere along the way anyway.
Wonderful for other people, but I don't miss it.
For a moment when I see Tove dressed up in a photo, I get an itch, but that feeling is gone as quickly as it came.
Just give me the picture from a day earlier, when she is happily here and sitting on the antique rocking horse. After a fresh walk with her and Mijke, I'm going to get back to work here.
In the evening I toast the carnival on the couch with Jos.
Then no real Limburger….
A few hundred meters from home, the parade will soon pass by and I won't experience anything.
That's not sad, I choose it. I choose to work in and around my shop. The radio softly in the background and the wonderfully soothing lavender scent that spreads from the diffuser when I am working on the computer.
Someone said: 'A real Limburger celebrates Carnival!' I was born in Limburg and I have lived here for 55 years, but that does not make me a real Limburger, because I do not celebrate carnival...
Would that be the definition of a Limburger? I have no idea and it doesn't really interest me either.
There have been years when I couldn't imagine life without carnival. I thought about what I was going to wear months in advance and my mother spent many hours behind the sewing machine. I helped build carnival floats and walked in the parade. And after the parade I continued to party happily, until the last minute.
But somewhere it diminished and the fire went out. I don't actually know where it went 'wrong'.
In the meantime, I don't like it at all anymore and I don't even want to think about putting on a crazy outfit and going somewhere with my face painted. I think I lost my humor somewhere along the way anyway.
Wonderful for other people, but I don't miss it.
For a moment when I see Tove dressed up in a photo, I get an itch, but that feeling is gone as quickly as it came.
Just give me the picture from a day earlier, when she is happily here and sitting on the antique rocking horse. After a fresh walk with her and Mijke, I'm going to get back to work here.
In the evening I toast the carnival on the couch with Jos.
Then no real Limburger….