Amsterdam, Netherlands

So, the girl in Belgium who recently claimed that she fell asleep during a tattoo session after she had asked the tattoo artist to create three stars on her face, only to wake up to fifty seven stars covering an entire half of her face, might take a bit of comfort when she sees the above picture.

The weather was once more phenomenal today so in the early afternoon I walked into town and taking things very slowly. After having sat at some canals, just watching the many boats on the water, I ended up on Zeedijk, where the De Engel bar has some nice seats outside. I got a white wine and just enjoyed 'people watching'. The guy with the tattooed face was joined by a lady who also had a partial facial tattoo, and a professional photographer, Jan van Breda. We got to talk and at one point (I believe after the third white wine) I asked the tattoo guy, whose name is Hans by the way, if I could take a picture of him - which he had no problems with. And the result is shown here.

As I left De Engel again, some time after 6, Paul, a Spijker barkeeper, walked with me on Zeedijk and invited me over to see his new flat... where we continued to drink a bit more and enjoyed the warm sunshine on his balcony. He has an absolutely beautiful flat with a great view in the living room and a quiet but sunny balcony at the back. At around 8 in the evening I finally went home... because I had some more things planned.

Anthony turned 33 day on Wednesday, and today he and Nick had organised a big party for many of their friends in their new, equally beautiful place, not too far from my own apartment. I got there at 10-ish and had a super time. Some of his friends I knew already, and there were also the very familiar faces of Sean and Mike of course. It was really great... although I found the theme a bit puzzling. Because Ant turned 33 he had decided that this was his 'Jesus year' and therefore the party should have a Christmas theme. Now, as far as I can remember, Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus, and not the fact that he died aged 33. That would be Easter, so I had actually suggested we have a crucifixion instead. But no, Christmas was the theme and it was actually very funny. And scary. And then, finally, at around three in the night, I decided that I'd had enough to drink, really... so I said my goodbyes and went home. What a day!

Amstelveen, Netherlands

It probably was the best summer night we've had so far this year, and depending how summer goes, it may have been the best summer night this year. It was warm, the sun was shining generously, people were out and about.

So I guess it wasn't the best idea to stay in the office till 8:30 today. Still, there was a report to be prepared and finalised, and time was running very short indeed. It's been a week with a couple of long days in the office, which is a bit of a shame given the wonderful weather outside. But, as they say in Germany, c'est la vie.

And then Molly Sugden dies... Rest in peace, Mrs Slocombe...

Amsterdam, Netherlands

My German colleague Markus visits the office every two weeks for a couple of days. He's a genuinely nice guy... who has an even nicer girlfriend. You see, every now and then, Markus will come to the office with huge trays of delicious cakes, chocolates or other sweet stuff - home made by his girlfriend. Christmas, Easter, World Championships football, you name it, and it usually is celebrated with yummie foods. Today, Markus came in with a big box full of muffins, filled with home made strawberry preserve. I can't have enough German colleagues in the world!

Amsterdam, Netherlands

You know, I could tell you about how I wanted to go to the World Press Photo Exhibition in Oude Kerk today. When I got there, however, there was an enormous queue of people waiting to get in (today was the last day of the exhibition) so I decided to give it a miss and, instead, go to cafe De Engel on Zeedijk. There, sitting outside, I enjoyed two generous glasses of white wine, observing passers-by and regular customers. See the picture above. My favourite was the blonde lady with a wonderful Amsterdam accent who was sipping a lot of white wine before getting on her scooter and riding away.

Or I could tell you how I met up with Anthony, Nick and a group of their friends, the - by now - infamous 'gay expats of Amsterdam' group, and how we went to see a film in Rialto, called Cowboys and Angels.

Set in Limerick, Republic of Ireland, it is the story of two guys in their early twenties, who become room mates. One of them is a gay fashion student, the other a straight office worker. The story lines include drugs trafficking and of course the search for sexual identity. It all sounds quite interesting, but admittedly the film didn't do much with me. Apart from the desire to see Dublin and Limerick again, as well as the desire to leave the stuffy and warm theatre to get fresh air, not too many other emotions were activated. But - it was really nice to meet some of the guys and one of the girls of the gay expats group. If only I could be a gay expat... Sigh... Surely, Limburg counts as 'abroad'?

I could also tell you about my visit to Spijker afterwards, but I'm sure you've heard it all before (it was nice - although a bit quiet).

Most importantly, however, in a nerdy kind of way, is that today, after weeks of not updating properly, my blog is finally up-to-date again! That is quite an achievement indeed! Three cheers for geeky old me.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

It was in the very early hours of this day, just after midnight, in fact. I was at home (as in: I was in Spijker) when Gareth, the barkeeper, walked in from outside and turned down the music.

"Michael Jackson is dead," he said.

Bart, Michel and me had been chatting and playing pinball, and just stared at him. That can't be true, surely? We checked the BBC News web site on Gareth's phone where it said that there were rumours and unverified reports that Jackson had indeed died. Huh.

Minutes later, the confirmation came. Yes, nine timezones to the west, in a hospital in LA, Michael Jackson had died.

"Can I have your iPod?" Gareth asked. Months ago I had downloaded Jackson's HIStory album, and some of the songs on the album were now being played in Spijker as a tribute to this remarkable star. Well. Tribute... I must admit that, because we were not entirely sober anymore, instead of singing along with "because I'm bad, I'm bad, really really bad" with the song Bad, we may have substituted the word 'bad' with 'dead'. It actually seemed quite funny at the time, sad as Jackson's passing was, especially when it came to the finale of the song. "Whos' dead?" You had to be there.

Nothing more to say on Jackson, except for the bleedin' obvious fact that Michael Jackson was a key figure in my youth, as he was for many millions others. His songs are phenomenal. I just wished the world had given this guy a chance to actually grow up. It was not to be.

The picture is of Scottish highland cows that are grazing in a nature reserve in the Nieuwe Meer area of town. I cycled over there briefly this afternoon.