A record of my annectodes in no particular order but as they come to mind

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A record of my annectodes in no particular order but as they come to mind

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A record of my annectodes in no particular order but as they come to mind.

Kornelis Casparus van der Molen

I did not like that name when I was a teenager and thereafter;particularly that Casparus. So should there be in my family some who have a problem similar to mine let that be a consolation. There must be lots with the same problem Kornelis was the name of my grandfather on my fathers side. He was a smous. Walked from place to place with a little wooden box on his back selling things like shoe laces polish and so. No toothbrushes because in thos days one did not brush ones teeth unless you belonged to high society. You used a finger. This man eventually through bitter hard work expanded his business so that he could afford a cart with a dog to help pull it.By that time he must have had a more fixed abode, Before he slept where ever the last customer, a peasant farmer lived and asked for permission to sleep in the ‘hooiberg’[ hooi==hay] His wife travelled with him Her name was Trientje Korf Sales must have increased more and more,and a little shop in one of those tiny little villages;it was called Krewert was opened his wife [who outlived him by many years] had three sons;Klaas the eldest emigrated to America;Chicago and was a builder. In America called a developer. That was before 1916. There was also Jacob he stayed in the area Groningen and was a building contracter with a fairly large family. One of his sons emigrated to South Africa also Jacob and a carpenter. He lived in Krugersdorp but we lost sight of him and his family. Then there was another son Simon;he was a ‘machinist’ that is an engine driver with the railways. I remember clearly a “faux pas” [if you do not know what that is look it up or ask Georges because it is French/ We, my brother Jan and I stayed with this Uncle Simon a day or two [in Enschede] and my uncle wanted to show me his ‘locomotief’ his railway engine in the shed. We must have been about 12 {11 } and Jan was 2 years younger and I was disgusted with the small ‘locomotiefje’’ My uncle wanted me to climb in but I did not –such a stinking small thing!! And my uncle must have been disappointed at my lack of interest.. There was also an aunt a sister who was left behind to become a spinster but not so long actually becaue she married a peasant called Tjardo. No surname known. So as my mother used to say from my fathers side I was “van lage kom af” not deftig which she was. One of the last in a long range of children ,13 of them. Her father [Casparus] also worked with the railways but on the tracks. Considering his large family he therefore had more than one track record.. He was ‘ploegbaas’ of a group of labourers who laid and corrected the railway tracks. Now with a machine but in those days the effort to keep tracks straight was a very great one, all by hand, with the aid of wooden crosses and strings and looking glasses. The ‘ploegbaas’ never carried any of these instruments. The work was in a certain way more important than that of the highest authority in the organisation: One of the important things in Railway organisations Is that trains do not derail and Casparus arranged just that. His surname was Spiers.

My father and mother got married in 1916 and then shortly thereafter must have decided to emigrate. They taught at a school in Veenedaal that is in the province of Utrecht. Veenedaal was a place of clothing factories. My father applied for a post in Sout Africa and also for one in Indonesia. Immagine how small things like that influence lives: Had he been accepted in South Africa I would have been an Afrikaner for sure because my father was Gerofermeerd church member.and I would never have met Mam All would have been topsy turvy. Sometimes fate smiles on you.

Well then I was born in 1918 which I do not remember, but from 4 years on there are still a number of things I recall such as the first house we stayed, in the Sumatra laan.. Later in the Koningin Wilhelmina laan when my father bought a car. A model T Ford. On Saturdays we used to motor around in the late afternoon, when it was cooler. One of those trips led us to an area called Glodok in downtown Batavia. There was a jail there and the guards – military men- had bayonets up on their rifles. I clearly remember that this impressed me no end as very igenious: :to shoot prisoners escaping with a knife!! Good idea. My mother was aghast and told my farther to move on as fast as a T Ford could go. Little did I know that at a later age I would be an inmate of that very same prison, when a POW en route to Thailand. I was there about a fortnight I think. ‘Het kan verkeren’ has since then always been on my mind That means “It can change you know” I just said sometimes fate smiles on you! True enough but the stress is on the word sometimes. Since then I am classed a pessimist.! Of course between the two meetings with Glodok Prison very many things happened.

The most important one was that my father died in 1926, in December, while we were on the way back from the Indies to Holland; my father was given sick leave but I think that it was known before we left that his illness was a very serious one;all went in a great haste. He never reached the end of the journey and died in Port Said. We were far too young to realise the concequences.To grow up without a father is to grow up with some important factot cut away;and my mother, looking back later, was singularly ill equipped to meet that situation. Unbeknown it must have put a mark on the rest of our youth life;and it is only later, much later that I realised that she suffered much because of her dire need for support Nevertheless she settled in a place relatively away from family; in Bussum where she was on her own, the main reason being her determination to bring us up away from her nonbelieving family and away from my fathers family whom she may have considered of a social standing below hers. My mother was deftig.and wanted us not to adopt any sort of local manner of speaking.but learn the pure Dutch. In those days speaking in a dialect however slim could put a mark on you,

Nou ja als we dan toch over zuiver Hollands praten dan maar een stukje in de oude Moedertaal. Voor dat wij in Bussum gingen wonen logeerden wij voor korte tijden bij familie van mijn moeder.Mogelijk was het wel veel verstandiger geweest van haar om in de buurt van familie leden te zijn maar zij moet zich voorgenomen hebben ;ik moet mijn kinderen een Gereformeerde opvoeding geven ver weg van mijn niet al te Christelijke familieleden;ook niet bij of in de buurt van mijn vaders – gereformeerde – familie want ze dacht zeker die zijn niet van mijn stand. Dat moet ik even verklaren. Nederland in die tijd was sterk verdeeld in sociale lagen en niet alleen sociale standen als wel ook Protestants of Rooms Katoliek. Heel sterk was dat.Protestanten kochten niet bij ‘Vroom en Dreesman’ [kleren en ‘softgoods’]want dat was een Roomse winkel. Zo ook een timmerman of een winkelier dat waren niet de standen waar wij mee associeerden. Nu is dat alles verdwenen en boze tongen [that means those who talk ill of others] beweren dat Nederland nu door proleten wordt geregeerd.Zo was Leo Vuyck, mijn school vriend van een heel goeie klasse. Woonde in een heel groot huis – deftig -. Maar hij kwam maar heel zelden bij ons thuis,ik meer bij hem en mijn moeder dacht dat wij in de ogen van de Vuick familie niet van genoege stand waren en dat hij daarom door zijn moeder dat is Mevr Vuyck [ook een weduwe] gezegd werd : die van der Molens nee die horen niet bij ons. Dat was niet zo want Leo kwam niet graag bij ons omdat hij maar EEN koekje bij zijn thee kreeg en dan ging de koekjes trommel pats dicht, en nog in de kast ook.

De dertiger jaren was de tijd van economiese crises en prijzen van goederen gingen steeds verder omlaag;dit was gunstig voor ons want mijn moeders pensioen was maar klein. Gelukkig had mijn vader verzekeringen afgesloten voor zijn drie zoons , studie verzekeringen en daarvan kon ons schoolgeld betaald worden. Later ging dat blijkbaar beter.Tijdens de oorlog studeerde mijn jongere broer rechten.[law] aan de Universiteit in Amsterdam. Niettegenstaande de ietwat beperkte financiele stand van zaken gingen wij toch wel elk jaar ergens naar toe met vacantie;daar was mijn moeder nogal stipt mee

. Deze Leo Vuyck waar ik van vertelde was ook van een Gereformeerde familie;dat was zeer zeker een punt in zijn gunst. Ook kort van geld, dat is zakgeld [allowance] en kreeg Zondags een kwartje mee om in het kerkzakje te doen. Om aan wat meer geld te komen draaide hij regelmatig een knoop van zijn gulp af en deponeerde die in het kerkcollecte zakje dat je onder je neus gehouden werd op collecte tijd aan een lange stok door de diaken. Dat kon Leo veel makkelijker doen dan ik want zijn knoop werd weer aangenaaid door een van zijn vele zusters. Bij mij zou dat mijn moeder geweest zijn die dan had willen weten wat er van die verdwenen knoop was geworden en waarom altijd een knoop van je gulp. Rits sluitingen bestonden toen nog niet. In de kerk was het wat moeilijk een knoop van achter je broek te zitten los draaien . Je gulp was veel makkelijker en dat kon ongezien door omzittenden gebeuren , als je je andere hand er maar strategies geplaatst voor hield.Zo onder het zingen als iedereen in zijn psalmboekje zat te kijken was een heel gelegen ogenblik.Leo Vuyck klaagde dat zijn zusters die knopen ter vervanging er steeds vaster en hechter aan terug naaiden!.Nou was Leo helemaal geen opschepper [boaster], in tegen deel;maar ik heb wel het idee dat zijn verhalen niet helemaal waar waren. Net maar zo’n beetje om indruk te maken..Later toen we naar het Lyceum in Hilversum gingen fietsten we heel vaak samen.

Nou eerder op de lagere school, dat was de Juliana school, gebeurde het nog al eens dat ik bij een zekere oom Henk of oom Helmer Kuiper -- --dat waren kennissen van mijn moeder en ‘oomzeggers’----onderwijzers aan de Mulo school vlak naast onze lagere school, moest komen en dan werd ik een beetje onderhouden over het feit dat ik mijn Moeder verdriet deed , waar ik mij niet van bewust was en bijzonderheden van hoe ik dat dan deed werden,dacht ik, nooit gegeven. Maar daar was iets dat van mijn kant af niet helemaal schortte. Ook kreeg ik nog wel eens een pak slaag met de mattenklopper. In die tijd waren er nog geen stofzuigers althans in de ogen van de goeie huisvrouw geen effectieve aparaten en dus werd er een nog al elaboraat weefsel van kane , groot en plat, gebruikt om de kleden te kloppen buiten, hangend aan een rek of een lange stevige waslijn.Ieder huis had dat soort uitrusting. Nou gebeurde het dat als ik dingen deed die mijn moeder’s handen deden jeuken en ik met die matten- klopper werd bewerkt. Tot ik op een dag zei Mam dat helpt niks, ik weet niet waar het over gaat maar als je-- nee wij moesten altijd ‘U’ zeggen--, als U denkt dat dat zeer doet met die mattenklopper dan is U verkeerd. Dat was een groot plat ding zodat de.’impact’ wel heel sterk verspreid was.Maar tot op de dag van vandaag denk ik nog wel eens wat was het dat zo’n geweldig ongenoegen schiep en waarom was niemand in staat dat eens uit te leggen. Mogelijk een vroege eigenwijsheid die zijn kop op stak? Waarschijnlijk!

Well there were the early very vague still, doubts;I must admit. Is this right? For instance there was the ‘jongelingen vereniging [Gereformeerd] –Youth clubs as part of every church community. Things were discussed etc. And there was the annual meeting for the entire country where then the important questions of the day were brought forward.Such as sports on Sunday,a very tender matter. The meeting was in Leeuwarden, up north and I was sent by the Bussumse Vereniging. There was a discussion of some length and then a fellow rose up{ I would call him a heikneuter] from a little village in Drente arguining this is a totally unnecessary discussion He cycled on Sunday mornings for an hour to the church and later back repeating that performance for the evening service! Now that he called Sport on Sunday! The Chairman rose – a Prof. Dijk – and clapped. All his cronies on the conference table rose and clapped dutyfully and that was it;matter settled and then I think for the first time, the undesirable trait in my character emerged:: I do not sommer accept a majority decision. Waarom moet ik mij bij die heikneuter aanpassen, You see clearly: this fellow fancies himself to be ‘deftig’ No not really actually I objected to being brainwashed. This Prof Dyk had a son who married a friend of Mam, Ans Hogewoning [who hailed also somewhere from the Indies [I think] And one day we are in the house of the Vuycken =they were on holidey= and Dyk Jr with his wife Ans visit us; Ans wore a frock very simmilar to a coat;so I offered to take off her coat and hang it up somewhere. No she says because that is my dress and I wear nothing underneath.Anybody meats with that sort of situation sometimes or more but my great failing is that I never have a ready answer. Only much later! I think slowly:: but why did I not say this or that? ::slow thinker thats me,

My youth years were in no way dull or overexiting, no I had a normal nice time. One summer we went to a place Egmond aan Zee for our holiday and there I saw a blond girl springy hair who made an impression, strong and disturbing, as it happens with young men –still boys- and I did all sorts of things to find out where she stayed but never saw her again. Back to school [Lyceum] and that was in September when the new school year started , Lo an Behold there ,the first day in the new class there she sits. And I look closely but no it was a different girl and I find out by the name of Ina Tamsma;same sort of springy hair and blond but a different face, with big blue eyes. Little did I know that the first stone laying ceremony of a new building had just taken place because the immage of that girl stayed imprinted somewhere in indelible ink..Those days were less ‘free’ than they are now and you did not just speak as a sranger to somer any girl. But there was the telephone book and the address and the profession of Mr S.F Tamsma was discribed as ‘komies” which I thought impressive. Only later “”trok ik de stoute schoenen aan”” and talked to her. And then I said to my mother one day when I showed a photo of the entire school population a girl who appeared on it:: this is Ina Tamsma and I am going to marry her. I had this capacity to shock my mother an she said W H A T there are thousands of girls, later, much later for you to chose from, thousands and even more..I remember clearly that I said that is none of my business.. And she has a brother who is at the present in a sanatorium[that was/is Rob, whoever reads this :: your uncle. That information brought my mother again in all stages as I apparently had the ability to do: A sick family ook nog, possibly she is also sick. I think that it is correct to say that I stuck to my guns. I missed the fund raising ability that Leo Vuyck had but used to save up on my coffee money :: that was 25 cents in a week[ five times a cup something that looked like coffee from the school canteen {at 5 cente een koppie} and for two weeks produced fifty cents] and the ticket for the bioscope was 25 cents a seat. That meant that I could take Ina Tamsma out twice a month if she wanted to.. Incidentally my fund raising method was far more honest than Leo’s who kept om ripping buttons from his ‘gulp’ That produced only 10 cente want dat was al dat hij kreeg om in het kerke zakje te gooien. So he raised 10 cents a week and I 25!! Plus the inconvenience that he had to walk about met een open gulp until one of his sisters repaired the absence of the button .Dit klinkt erger dan het was want in die tijd hadden wij ‘het Zondagse Pak’ which we wore to school not often. The procedure was at our house that my mother bought a suit for me in de uitverkoop en dat was dan mijn Zondagse Pak, until years my schoolpak versleten was en dan werd mijn zondagse pak[dat ondertussen te klein was geworden] mijn ‘daagse pak’ tot de nieuwe uitverkoop mij weer een zondags pak verschafte Op dit moment dat ik dit tik en op papier zet komt Wanda binnen om te zeggen dat het tijd is om Mam’s eten te maken;en in het vuur van het vertellen vergat ik de tijd. Ik maak dat eten en breng het binnen in de slaapkamer waar Ien ligt, eigenlijk een wrak en verlamd en de simpele realiteit hits me in the face: Dat is de Ien waar ik met mijn gedachten was en nu! Het is ontzettend om te zien. And the truth is now [again very clear to me] :: a man can die of grief and very quicly too. Plotseling terwijl het verleden voor mij leeft als een werkelijkheid word ik geconfronteerd met de werkelijke werkelijkheid en er is niemand die mijn tranen kan drogen. Zo is het. En ik ga ook niet verder;eerst bij Mam zitten.
It is now 1937, we leave school and I get a learners job with a bank the Nederlandsch Indiesche Handelsbank, the office in Amsterdam for training to be sent to th Indies and as it happens Ien gets a job with a traiding firm also with Dutch East India offices and we travel by train daily to Amsterdam, However Ina Tamsma comes from a much larger place Hilversum than I Bussum , on the railway line te Amsterdam Hilversum comes first. So it did happem many times that Ina Tamsma “s train , a fast train did not stop in Bussum and she whizzed past, But sometimes there was the occasion to walk from Amsterdam station to her place of work , not far from mine. It is at this stage July 1939 and I am due to leave on the vessel Johan van Oldenbarneveldt and arrive in what is now Djakarta [then still a not vry impressive place] and am told I must move on in the ship to Surabaya, also the terminal Before leaving Amsterdam I asked Ina to marry me in due course but she said nothing.

I arrive in Surabaja on a Sarurday, weekend and am invited to stay in a place called a ‘mes’, no more than a number of bachelors who hired a house plus servants and each had a room. That Monday I report for duty at the Surabaya office and am given work I have not the foggiest idea what it is about, what is more I am all of a sudden the controller of a department., Come 6 o’clock come 7 and I get a little anxious: I have no place to sleep yet nor know where I shall find things to eat. So after seven [and the office is still working as if it is early morning] I step into the sub-managers office and ask him may I go to arrange these things: Wel zegt die klootzak als je dat nou nodig vindt doe dat dan, maar ik vind het maar een heel beperkte opvatting van wat werkverrichting en prestatie is. Als dit jouw manier is zal je het niet ver brengen, dat is zeker. This by way of encouragement: A different time much tougher and different way of thinking. But I tell this only to illustrate the manner of hammering yougsters into shape in those days—colonial time-do not forget.. And I moved to the Simpang Hotel a little more up town. The businesses were all downtown.. These colonial cities in fact the entire country was awash with bachelors. Surabaya was known for its taxi fleet of small cars like the Austin, small Fiat and the like .Easy and cheap transport but too small if you sort of moved house. No problem you called for two taxis [taxis were easy to get sort of roving town looking for a fare] In the one taxi you loaded all your stuff and you travelled in the other.Not a ghost of a chance- you did not even consider- that the taxi with your stuff would take off and disappear with all your suitcases;, I do not think we even took the licence number of the other taxi .That does not mean that there was no crime; remember the Glodok prison, it must have been well populated.But the world was different and difficult. Nothing like young people now taking a holiday in Greece or the Bahamas.We had officially no holiday ever for our first tenure of 8 years:: the argument was: after 8 years you will get overseas leave of 8 months AND stressed:: of which 4 months paid.!!

Not much history here, but it was about to burst on me, something for permanent: War broke out the month after my arrival, and that was the Phoney part of it nothing much happanend except that there was no airmail connection with Europe any more. But by boatmail , and only via the Cape [ the Suez Canal was closed] came a letter for me from Ina Tamsma and with it a little parcel with a photo and a little silvery box. Shu was I amazed and all sorts of other things. I could still reply and correspond until the next year May when Germany invaded Western low lands and France. I had a cousin in America in one of the Carolinas;he was an astronomer and he lent his address to correspond but this lasted not long until the whole world was aflame. So clearly she started it not me;;I sort of prepared. This astronomers name was Dick Ruyl, he married a daughter of my aunt ‘Tante Jans’ a formidable woman. In those days women were endowed with a ;boezem’ not separate breasts. Wel tante Jans she could preach and possibly Dick Ruyl was rather keen to take that job which was open to him as soon as he finished his studies within a certain time. Much later Mam and I travelled in America ;Sakia was with us and in Charlottesville [where they stayed before the war] we looked in the phone book but there was no such name. One of the things when you travel about is the great number of people you lose sight of.

That letter from Mam really did it and the photo. And it travelled with me everywhere in a very handy pack and that was .....the Bible my mother gave me !! With the inscription that all earthly things will be lost, only eternity lasts : so not to lust for those things that pass!! The wrong thing to tell a young fellow who is setting about to conquer the world. But the Bible came in very handy for Ien’s photo and I still have it. Life in Surabaya was smooth;we worked a lot. In the office at 7.30 and out at about that time in the evening. There was the weekly cinema visit. I was not a member of “The Club” most people were but it did cost money and I decided I will take over from a colleague who was transferred to Calcutta, his old car. A Fiat of the year of manufacture 1929, you know such a high affair with the reserve wheel on the side embedded in the front mudguard.Floorboards were wooden planks for easy floorcleaning . Just lift them and the floor is clean again. I had no idea whatsoever of maintenance and when I came back ‘home’ in the meantime another hotel/pension by the name of DERMO there were two English fellows looking the car over and one pulled someting out of the engine;I remember thinking :Now you go a bit far! What he pulled out was the dipstick and he says there is no oil in this car [and he was right not a drop] which amazed me; I thought it only took petrol. Fuel pumps were something really out of this world and with ‘this’ I mean to day. A pump was twice the hight of the present pump and was operated by hand: Somebody really pumped and the fuel flowed up into a 5 litre glass bottel like affair. When full the operater gave it another pump move so that you could see/witness that the thing was full, the extra fowed back underground in the tank. Then the operater turned a lever and the 5 liter container emptied through the hose into your car tank;there was however nothing to stop this flow like present pump hoses. Then the operater proceded to pump again and filled the second glass container again 5 Liter and a turning of the swing handle. You could pump your tyre but there was no gauge;and when not busy the operator sat in a telephone booth like structure. So on the second day of my posessing a motorcar I decided that the tyres needed to be pumped up. One tyre looked a little odd::whitish in the middle all round raher wide irregular in shape and I later learned:that was the canvas. Nou ja the pumping completed I went back to my hotel room which was a garage furbished to fit a gentleman, and sat outside looking with satisfaction at the new aquisition – it was a Sunday morning – and there was a big bang and a lot of dust: The canvas tyre had given in to the apparently too high pressure,The seller a Mr van Akkooy a colleague who went to Calcutta the day he sold me his car for 200 guilders never got all that money I offered him 100 and he agreed;that was less than 10 pounds Sterling. Somewhere in a photo album is a picture I must have sent to Mam who kept it as an illustration of our bright fruture awaiting us.. One day I took it up in the mountain area around Malang. The car’s maximum speed was 30/40 KM and climbing was not its strong point. Of course in those days there was no such thing as a pressurised radiator and on one clinbing road there was something like an explosion and a lot of steam/ Clearly something had given in. When the engine could be approached again I noticed in the engine block four round holes which had not been there before. And I thought after a while of the possibility that there was no water in the motor anymore but could not check that on account of the high temperature of the radiatior cover. I was fortunate enough to find a few meters only further on a few Indonesiians working on the road or rather cutting growth along the raod for the better view and they on my direction were good enough to cut from branches for fitting, wooden props which I inserted in those holes which I must admit disturbed me rather a lot. I thought the car was a gonner.The matter of refilling the radiator with water was simple. I travelled with a friend and his wife and their todler daughter.His name was Schuurmans. On account of the low maximum speed of the car it took rather long to cover really shortish distances and Schuurmans wife very wisely brought a little pottie along for that little girl to do een plasje on the way without the need to stop. This little pottie I used to dip out of a stream,water to fill the radiator which had cooled in the meantime. We then proceded to a place called Malang and found an engineering sort off outfit. This man expained my problem wich was something Irish. No I said this is an Italian car a Fiat. This man also said which was more important that he could fix it by welding round pieces of metal into the holes;however he could not guarantee his handy work, also saying that this sort of thing happened often on these mountain roads. The man clearly had no high esteem of himself:: this sort of accident never ever happened again; the welded props stayed in place firmly.How we got home I do not recollect anymore. I could come back next weekend to fetch the car again. The car had the most enormously powerful headlights:: Bosch manufacture. That was actually the only thing powerful of the car.However the sight of a motorcar engine with big wooden props in it was really funny and the beauty was: it worked.

In those days there were no service stations yet. You could not get your car ‘serviced;’ Repaired yes but nothing fancy. I lived on the Darmo Boulavard and during my stay Caltex opened what we now call a sercice station but the object was to advertise. I went there very shortly after its establishnent and the car went[even] better. All these things happened before the war in Europe really got serious. When exactly I do not remember. we [with Schuurmans and his wife and child] also undertook a trip to Bandoeng where his wifes parents stayed. That was 900 KM there and 900 back, for an Easter weekend. Without mishap. Slowly on now we move into another eara when war in Europe turned ugly and all and everything chaged.Connections were broken. In the bank I was moved from the ‘incasso Department to Aandelen [Securities] Then in August [I think] 1941 I got tired of my Fiat. There were too many things that were wrong and I bought a SKODA against everybodies advice ‘because it would be difficult to get spare parts’ Small car but beautiful and in an excellent state. An entiirely different proposition/ I was very happy with it. However in September/October I got the uncomfortable feeling of the possibility of war. I had not paid cash for the car and with monthly payments in war time seemed to me a situation to be avoided. Then you meet with panick like feelings and I decided to bring the car to the dealer proposing: How about you taking it back, keep my payments and that is the end. Why?? He said and I sltill see his utter amazement :::Because there is going to be a war and I will be unable to pay you. Whaaaaat a war never we are safe!! No I do not think so and the deal was reversed as I proposed. So no more car, and indeed that time did not last long.A month later all hell broke loose. My life canged and things would never , even remotely be the same again,.It is an entirely new chapter that I enterd No news. about Ina Tamsma . And it seems right to discribe that episode in a new chapter, . A new Chapter for another entirely new and in nearly all respects difficult time, not only for me but for millions of people

End Chapter One
Graf van Kornelis en Trientje

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