A bumpy road
The English translation of my last but one book ‘Het Gouden licht van Afrika’ was just as insane as the book itself. I had regained the publication rights. But I didn’t know anything about translating, nor about contracts, let alone about foreign publishers.
Caipirinha in Rio
A lovely story
Some years ago I wrote a serious article about the effects of alcohol on male sexual performance.
While doing my research, I got the idea to make a juicy story on that topic. Just for fun.
On one hand with information that more or less was right, on the other hand with a big smile.
Return to Rubya’s red earth
My sentimental journey
Oké, so you arrive at Entebbe airport and it’s all a lot less hot than you remember. On top of that, every Tom Dick and Harry has a mobile phone now and you can’t see women with babies on their backs anywhere. But the light in the bog doesn’t work, it stinks to high heaven and there’s no lock on the door.
Little Red Riding Hood and Snowwhite
Once upon a time a queen-mother was sitting in front of a window with her Singer Sewing Machine. She had a nice view across the snowy fields but was very sad and sighed: ‘Dear God, give me one more daughter, a little baby-girl would make me so happy!’
My mother Barbera
First chapter last book
On the day before my mother’s cremation, eighteen red roses are delivered. They’re the biggest and most beautiful I’ve ever seen, with stems straight as an arrow and sturdy dark-green leaves. As I’m taking off the cellophane in the kitchen, a razor-sharp thorn pierces my middle finger. A drop of blood falls onto a card tied to the stem with a piece of raffia. There’s no address on it, apart from that of an expensive florist. Only two elegant initials: R.W.