Llwellyn, his BMW and Carmelita

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Purchasing classics there

Llwellyn - pronounce: 'Lyn' - Flint. Sounds like the name of a Welsh hero warrior. Llwellyn is not a warrior. He is a poet.

It has the appearance of a mildly surprised, flawless gnome. He is one of the vague acquaintances who occasionally manifest themselves in someone's life. A while ago he had e-mailed that he was coming to the Netherlands. For field research for his newest bundle. Its provisional working title was "Druids, motorcycles and Caribbean girls." The 'druids' were only bait or an excuse for intellectuals.

His own BMW combination with more than half a million miles at the time was his only worldly possession and link with the motorcycle world. But Caribean Girls of the nicer modeled kind, those were the main characters in his life, in his poems. Poems that are so fiercely realistic that in England, Wales and Ireland they can only be read by 50 people, if accompanied by both parents.

Lyn called. He said he was in the Netherlands. Near a place with the unlikely name 'Vlardinnen' was fed up and had bad luck. "The dynamo, the regulator or the battery." A phone call with Gerrit, a phone call with Toon and a visit to Theo. To be on the safe side, we included a few extra points and a capacitor. And then on the way to Vlaardingen. There, in the gas station parking lot, Lyn had already dismantled the potential culprits. He was waiting with his first smokable continental purchase already tapered on the bottom lip. "A satisfied smoker is not a troublemaker."

The case was done within half an hour. And it was dinner time. With the Chinese. Of course at your own expense. Artists do not engage in civilities such as inviting someone. Paying for himself was shocking enough for Lyn. But he was still genuinely happy with the reunion. Because standards and values ​​are becoming increasingly blurred, it did not surprise us that there was a softly furnished Antilian in the ministry of the local Chinese.

Lyn hardly looked back at his Babi Pangang. Got a radiant but somewhat veiled look in his eyes. Stood sharp. Went on the attack. Entirely on the poetry. You don't need a broad shoulder or a Goldcard to be successful. It's about the charm. The soul.

The most recent woman of his dreams had already seen it all. Was cynical. Distant. Smiled, laughed, roared, melted for the performer. Teasingly made a kiss gesture and hip-rocked to another customer impressively. And came back quickly. We were still there by closing time. Lyn would escort Carmelita home. After all, it was far too dangerous at night for a girl alone? His latest dream woman looked at him tenderly. Because one thing has to be said: Lyn has charm.

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