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KMZ"Llwellyn - pronounce:" Lyn "- Fflint". Sounds like the name of a warrior from a heroic legend from Wales.

Llwellyn is not a warrior. He is a poet. He has the appearance of a mildly surprised flax-haired gnome. He is one of the vague acquaintances who occasionally manifest in someone's life. A while ago he had emailed that he was coming to the Netherlands. For field research for his latest bundle.

Its provisional working title was “Druids, motorcycles and Caribean girls”. The "druids" were just bait or excuse for intellectuals. His own BMW R60 / 5 with more than half a million miles on the clock at the time was his only worldly possession and link with the motorcycle world. But Caribean Girls of the nicer modeled kind, they were the protagonists in his life, in his poems. Poems so fiercely realistic that in England, Wales and Ireland they can only be read by people over 50, if accompanied by both parents.

Lyn called. He said he was in the Netherlands. Sat near a place with the unlikely name of "Vlardinnen" and had bad luck. "The dynamo, the regulator or the battery". A telephone call with Gerrit, a telephone call with Toon and a quick visit to Theo. Just to be sure, a couple of extra points and a capacitor are included. And then on the way to Vlaardingen. There, in the parking lot of the gas station, 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 matter was settled within half an hour. The dead battery was handed in. The rest went back for further investigation. But first we went to eat. With the Chinese. Of course at your own expense. Artists do not engage in civil acts such as inviting someone. Paying for herself was shocking enough for Lyn.

He had not mentioned compensation for the kilometers traveled and parts used. Too civil! But he was still genuinely happy with the reunion. Because standards and values ​​are becoming increasingly blurred, it didn't surprise us that there was a softly furnished Antilian in the ministry of the local Chinese. Lynn 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 Gold card to be successful. It's about the charm. The soul.

The most recent woman of his dreams had already experienced it. Was cynical. Aloof. Smiled, laughed, laughed, melted for the artist. Teasingly made a kiss gesture and hip rocked to another client. And came back soon. We were still there by closing time. Nice people who are Antilleans. The Chinese are also nice by the way. Lyn would accompany Carmelita home. Because after all, it was way too dangerous that evening. For a girl alone? His newest dream woman looked at him with tenderness. Because one thing has to be said: Lyn has charm.


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