I have not written in ages. And I turned 30 in the meantime, too. That is not why I don't write as enthusiastically though...I just don't know if there still is a point other than self-therapy. A couple of weeks ago I started a draft with this:

"Last week I spent a few days in London and my good friend Bence - the author of my first ever post - asked me what the point of my blog was now that nothing interesting was happening to me. I can refute that claim.  Spending a few days at the Hague offices of Alcatel was interesting, if not necessarily my idea of fun. I had the opportunity to attend the local Christmas party last night, held at the canteen of the office building in the outskirts of the Hague. "Party" is not exactly an accurate description of what went on yesterday, or rather what I understood to be going on. Basically, due to the neverdending cost saving initiatives they stopped taking employees out to nice restaurants and made them believe that somehow it is more sociable and fun to hang out at work, munch on inedible canteen food and drink cheap wine on pretext that it is Christmas. We, the consultants, got invited out of a false sense of obligation and we attended out of misguided courtesy. Result: nobody wanted us to be there and we certainly didn't want to be there. After suffering through a couple of self-congratulatory speeches in Dutch - including the awarding of the "salesman of the year" title - we survived the crappy food and drinks unscathed and even got a ride back to our hotel. This experience was in stark contrast to our own end-of-year party hosted by the senior boss at a fancy-ish Italian restaurant for the consultants and our clients. If anything, the man has style and went for the full package: six-course meal, exquisite wine and entertainment in the form of an attractive, young(ish), wanna-be actress-cum-writer with big boobs and an affinity for Apollinaire and mushrooms (yes, her very own oeuvre was some sort of morality tale using mushroom-men as an allegory). Just to be malicious: the source of real entertainment for most of us was not so much the quality of her writing or her performance; the fun was more in the initially clumsily concealed but progressively more and more freely expressed desire of our boss to bed her right then and there."

This is where I stopped my account of the Dutchmen and the various Christmas parties. Subsequently I attended a couple more of those (including that of my former employer's Amsterdam office - ouch!). They were not that memorable though and it's a new year and a new life, so no more on that. And no more on anything else for now either because I have to go. Back to the gym.