Friday, 26 June 2009

• Who's dead?

  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.

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