I visited the spring exchange with a woman from Taiwan.
I had told her before that 10,000 fanciers might be there and she should not be surprised if some would recognise me.
'Are you so famous?' she asked.
'You bet I am' I said adding 'wait and see'.
I turned out to be right, since at least 3 people recognised me.
'It must be fun to be so famous' she then said.
'You will find out tomorrow' was my reaction.
THE NEXT DAY
I only refer to the phone calls I got.
A Chinese apologised, he did not realise it was still night here.
Somebody asked for a voucher for a pigeon. The clubhouse was burnt down and he was sure I would help to collect some money.
Some one asks at what time the local pigeon shop closes.
A call from a guy who wanted to know what the best vitamins are.
Some one had read an article of mine on Sedochol. He wanted to know EXACTLY what the ingredients were, when to use it, how and how often.
Another demand for a voucher. The proceeds were meant for charity and he was sure I would support them.
A guy's birds were sniffing. He was sure he had a loft problem and he asked if Icould go and see his loft. 'As soon as possible' he added.
A German wanted me to send him medicine that he could not buy over there. Of course he would pay for it (what a nice German).
My wife, who normally picks up the phone, apologised and asked him to call back another time since we had visitors.
'Who?' he wanted to know.
I could not believe this. That was not his God dam business. And he did not need to know either that the doctor was measuring my blood pressure.
You're SO famous, the Taiwanese woman said. Poor me!
The postman with an envelope in which were 5 handwritten pages, hardly legible plus a design of a loft that a foreigner was planning to put up.
He asked my thoughts on ventilation, but there was one problem: he was in a hurry.
There was another letter for a voucher plus one from a novice who had become unemployed.
He wanted to buy 20 babies and I sure would understand he could afford little money and of course I would also understand that he was only interested in the best.
And there was a letter of a fancier who had a great grandchild of my 81-123456. He asked me if I could tell him about that bird and he wanted to know if it was scared (more than 25 years ago!) since its great grandchildren were.
There was again a letter from some one who had BOUGHT a voucher.
He wanted to visit me so that we would get to know each other better. He also wanted me to mate a cock with a certain hen, since from that pair he wanted a baby.
He would bring his wife and kids, that was more fun, but I did not need to prepare them dinner. (There are real nice guys in this sport indeed).
IN THE EVENING
A truck had run over the cat of my neighbour, understandably that made my day and this joyful event should be celebrated. I invited my family and between the soup and the main meal an American called.
'Are you Mr Ad?.'
'Just Ad but I am having a party now.'
'Yes, but I fok pigeons.' ('The Dutch word 'fok' means breed).
'You fok or fuck what?'
'Fok all pigeons in the world' I thought and for a moment I wondered which solution would be best to save me the cost of a shrink; a bullet or a rope.
'Is this a normal day in your life?' the Taiwanese woman asked.
'How famous you are.'
'Hmm. Famous? Only two streets away from me no one knows me.'
To be REAL famous, THAT must be fun. Being a King for example.
But as a kid I had chosen not to be a king which is something I still regret.
One of the charms of being a King is that everybody knows your birthday.
Every now and then it is also my birthday but then there are no special programs on television and no flags are hanging out.
Oh, how much I wish I were a King.
- If HE can pass a threshold of his castle without breaking a leg he is athletic.
- If HE manages to open his fly without help he is said to be so enterprising.
- If HE sees an elephant from a distance of 10 yards he is praised for his sharp eyesight.
King Edward was praised because he was good at embroidering.
If somebody would see ME embroider he would call a doctor, if a King does the same his staff would whisper 'hush, the King is embroidering'.
Furthermore there are those numerous love affairs of the Royalty.
Napoleon is said to have had more mistresses than Chirac, Brad Pitt and the King ofBelgium together.
What a loser I am compared with him.
'Even at 70 he was an animal in bed' one of his many mistresses confessed.
He was that bad that one night his dog jumped under the blankets and since he thought the King attacked her the dog bit him.
Where exactly you may guess.
Pretty girls get prosperous if they manage to become the mistress of a King. A girl that manages to become my mistress will be less lucky.
ME AND MYSELF.
Pretty soon I will have my birthday. I will climb the balcony of my house, wave to all people that pass and throw orchids on them.
Hopefully I will not be taken to an asylum, since people may think I've gone bananas.
'Nothing lasts forever' Napoleon said the day before he died.
He was right.
I am better off, since I am still here and kicking, though not everybody is happy with that but that is not my problem.
What I want to say, dear fellow fancier, is the following thing:
If you really love your children please tell them never to become a column writer likeA S.