Going Dutch: A Constructive Guide to Europe

By Stephen T. Daniels

When a young electrician becomes bored and disillusioned with life in England, the hopes and thoughts of adventure spur him towards life over the Channel. Join Dan Johnson's travels as they lead to a collection of like-minded characters, all trying to succeed in life on the continent, and a merry-go-round of their successes and losses amid the canals and coffee shops of Holland.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: May 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781528957847

Stephen T. Daniels

Stephen T. Daniels grew up in central England and is the eldest of six children to parents with a love of travel. In the 1990s, he moved to the Netherlands, where he fell in love with the culture and language. After living and working in several countries for many years, he has retained a fondness for all things European.

Book preview

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About the Author

Stephen T. Daniels grew up in central England and is the eldest of six children to parents with a love of travel. In the 1990s, he moved to the Netherlands, where he fell in love with the culture and language. After living and working in several countries for many years, he has retained a fondness for all things European.

About the Book

When a young electrician becomes bored and disillusioned with life in England, the hopes and thoughts of adventure spur him towards life over the Channel. Join Dan Johnson’s travels as they lead to a collection of like-minded characters, all trying to succeed in life on the continent, and a merry-go-round of their successes and losses amid the canals and coffee shops of Holland.

Dedication

To Mum, Dad, my brothers and sisters, and Tommy.

Copyright Information

Copyright © Stephen. T. Daniels (2019)

The right of Stephen. T. Daniels to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528904902 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528957847 (ePub e-Book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to my publisher, for all their help. My parents, for an upbringing privileged with fun and travel and for understanding an erratic son. To Lynda for her constant love and encouragement. To the characters in my life, many of whom I will never cross paths with again, but who have given me all the material needed to continue writing. None of whom, could ever be regarded as dull! And finally, to Holland and the Dutch. What remarkable and beautifully argumentative friends you were and remain in my dreams…

Introduction

When God created his great masterpiece, a small blue-green item floating within the vastness of not a lot else, He in his own modest way termed what He saw as being rather good.

Not only was it good, He had finally managed to weave the fabric of everything from nothing in an award-winning six days. Okay, He was the only competitor involved, and He set the bar. Regardless the record still stands. God, quite sensibly took a well-earned break on the seventh day of construction and via a large instruction book, several prophets and His own son, advised His favoured tenants of Earth to do the same. Possibly popping into church to say thanks before lunch.

Millions of years later, Mankind, being the precocious and arrogant children the Lord had no doubt been expecting, decided that a seven-day working week would be manageable, particularly where self-employment and a quid happened to be involved.

People down the centuries have typically chosen to underestimate God. There should be little doubt that the greatest engineer in the history of everything has expected every action of stupidity we have ever conceived before we even implemented it.

One of the most commonly overlooked realities may have been that God was and is a capitalist. One only has to glance at the parable featuring the Father and his three sons, to whom he gifts a sum of cash and sits back to observe who did what with their bag of loot. Jesus, the Lord’s highly articulate son, kindly pointed out that, to bury the bag of change in a hole and do nothing with it, was the action of an utter bone head. Likewise, he took a dim view of spanking the whole lot on ‘sex, drugs and rock and roll’.

This second ‘waste of capital’ advice has been a stumbling block for God’s favoured creatures, particularly by the 20th and 21st century inhabitants, clearly confused by the bit about enjoying life, drinking wine and generally being merry. God, being as great as He is, will probably put this down to not so much a design flaw but a spinoff of free will. There is a small chance that even the good Lord may have kicked Himself once or twice for introducing the ‘choice’ option to the human design program.

Back to the third son and winner of the heats, who successfully invested his dosh and inflated his wealth. Presumably, only to pop out for a drink and employ others to occupy themselves with dismantling what took so long to get right.

In the Bible’s sequel, we should all expect at least a chapter on the pros and cons of turning one’s back for too long. Judging by the events of the world we live in today, even God may have uttered the odd rude word as he cast his mind back to the point in time at which He thought to himself; I fancy a short break, won’t be long, what harm can they do while I pop out for five mins. In the same manner countless parents have entrusted the house to three teenagers, for a long weekend to the coast. Only to return to a trashed kitchen, lights left on and various ornaments damaged.

The unfortunate Jesus, sent down a couple of thousand years back to assess the situation on Earth on behalf of his dad, must have returned rather sheepishly with his report. Knowing that he was about to point out that, while on the whole and viewed from a distance, the planet was lovely, on closer inspection, life took some handling. Financial issues must have sat towards the top of a very large dossier.

POINT 1.

While man had took on board, to some degree, the avoidance of worshipping false gods, being forced to adopt the use of currency. Whether it be gold, coins or the latter, paper-I.O.U.

Jesus, being the son of a constructor, naturally ended up becoming a carpenter, all be it part-time. And was well aware of the inadequacy of bartering.

‘I’m not building you another Ark in exchange for a bloody hair cut!’

This would explain his favoured long hair and beard style, so trendy it would be adopted on-and-off for the next 1979 years. The son of man’s fine looks would be nicked, mimicked and otherwise copied by countless human figures of prominence over the centuries, right up until the likes of Barry Gibb, Mike Oldfield and J.K of Jermeriqui.

Satan, cast out by God apparently for trying to nick building contracts and general bad behaviour, must have been green with envy over Jesus’ popularity and was no doubt given a crap hair cut as an additional punishment. He appears to have been credited with sticking his nose in and using money as a means of creating mayhem ever since. ‘Root of all evil’ and all that.

POINT 2.

Unless someone comes up with a better idea than valuation and distribution of currency for ‘things’, we are stuck with it. Money, while not inherently evil, has appeared over time to have initiated the odd row.

Jesus’ advice for the use of money appears to be based upon the ‘straight’ business model.

‘You want this, so I want that.’

Agreement made, deal done, no problem. It is only when some idiot deviates from the paperwork that problems arise. He also asked us to be aware of the nuisance that will be Government. Coins and notes manufactured with the faces of kings, queens and other persons of control, should be a reminder that we should not fall in love with this revenue, as the cast iron certainty remains that these powers will be asking for it back at some stage. ‘Give to Caesar what belongs too…’

These and other points of view probably went on page after page after page. After endless evenings of bed time reading, God may have arrived at His son’s final observations and sat down at the celestial office desk for a re-cap.

‘Good job, son. Is that as far as you got?’

‘Well, to be fair, Dad, I only managed about thirty or so spins of the sun.’

‘Well you could have put in a decent shift, lad. I’ve been at this since the dawn of time, for heaven’s sake!’

‘I would have, Dad, but a few of them got the hump and kicked the crap out of me.’

‘RIGHT! THAT’S IT, THEY’RE GONNA GET IT NOW!’

Mankind has been indebted to Jesus ever since, as he managed to smooth the situation over with a few understanding and choice words…

‘Hold your horses, Dad. I’m not totally sure they knew what they were doing!’

1974 years later…

Chapter 1

October 2007

I sat looking at the blank, white walls. All the doors were locked, only to be accessed with security codes. A man in a smart dark suit let himself in.

Mr JOHNSON.

I stood up and shook the man’s hand. Yes, that’s me sir. I followed him along a hallway to another office and sat down at a desk.

So, where would you like to start?

Where would you like me to start? I replied.

What was I doing here? I had enough questions of late to last a lifetime and had very few answers.

Well, Mr Johnson, I’d like you tell me a bit about the circumstances that have brought you here, if you feel ready to.

You can call me Dan, sir. I’m not even sure why I’m here at all.

Take your time, Dan.

It’s a long story, I explained.

We have time.

I cast my mind back and attempted to make sense of the last few years.

I’ve had a bit of trouble, but obviously you know this, or I wouldn’t be sitting here with you, I attempted a smile.

You can start where you want Dan. The beginning is usually a good place.

I had been returned to the UK for less than three weeks. I began to explain and started at the end.

September 3, 2007

The game was over. Any good I may have done had long since been forgotten.

Danny, Jon needs a job.

Yes, no problem Claire. I’ll see him in the bar tonight and see what I can do.

Danny, we can’t pay the rent this week. Can you help at all?

No worries Jo. I’d need it back at some stage, though, mate.

Needless to say, these funds and others never found their way back to me, nor did I make much of an effort at recovery. In 2004, these favours mattered little. I had been a very willing participant in a money-go-round involving well over €1 million, divided between a collection of questionably mortgaged properties and numerous renovations in and around Amsterdam, Holland.

My bent, Dutch finance team were wholly unimpressed with my de-railing of what had been a highly lucrative ‘buy it, fix it, sell it ’routine. This had provided what felt like almost unlimited access to cash to employ what seemed like half the expats in Haarlem. And it allowed me to indulge in parties, general womanising and any other stupidity I may choose. What fun, let’s all play at business while all the time acting the joker. My not-so-well-disguised pride in what I achieved had spilled over into borderline arrogance and quickly alienated several members of the Haarlem bar community who had not required my help – either financial or otherwise. Thus, making it easy for them point out what a ’cocky little cunt’ they regarded me. Right. Again, at the time, these points of view mattered little to me as I found Justin, the part-time bar man, to be a boring, cockney, Reggie Kray wannabe. I could amuse myself by pissing him and others off by sniffing coke with friends and trying to sleep with all the women.

Cocaine, a common pastime in Holland and many other western cultures. I had taken it upon myself to re-term it as ‘Swishy’, much to the amusement of the rest of the bar residents, who would often misrefer to it as ‘sushi’. Still funny, so we let it ride. Coke seemed such an offensive choice of phrase when there were so many other silly words to pick from. The fact that we had employed the local, in-bar narcotic dealer did not help from a consumption point of view. None of this could have helped the collapse of my little empire, and the loss of my son had cemented the final brick in a very sturdy wall, largely constructed by myself. Tears flowed down my tired-looking face as I recalled the mess of my own making.

A lot of people had made and spent a lot of money, and my name was now mud. It was over, and leaving England the first time seemed a long time ago…

Chapter 2

Construction, a broad and vague term at best, has, one can only imagine, been fraught with conflict, disagreement and numeric fault, since mankind first decided that ‘It’s bloody chilly at night, and all the caves have been taken. Anyone got any ideas?’ If we are to believe human beings constructed the great pyramids, it would be safe to assume that, on top of an incalculable number of deaths and injury, the quantity surveyor of the time probably overlooked something, resulting