her own possession. I explained that, if you
compare a human being to a ship, Dickens'
works are like the anchor which you need on
your journey through life. Did this explanation
change their opinion? O no, Dickensians, it
did not. So then I changed my tactics, I kept
buying Dickens' novels, but I did not gave
them away, I kept these all myself. So, when I
die, each of my children will inherit a com
plete set. What more can a father do? Except
dying of course.
As I said, only much later did I join the
Haarlem Branch. From that moment I had in
my life not only Dickens but also a lot of
Dickensians, and even some Pickwickians.
When going to a Branch meeting, I have the
same feelings as when I open a Dickens novel:
a feeling of coming home - home, sweet
home, as in the beautiful song by the Lokin
brothers - the expectation of a lot of fun, and
the wish that it would never end.
Kind words were spoken to me this evening by
Jan Lokin, Pieter de Groot and Martijn David,
and the Lokin brothers even sung the beauti
ful song "home, sweet home". I thank them
very much, and I want to thank all of you,
especially for your kind support during my
time as president.
And now, is there a next step in my life with
Dickens? O yes, Dickensians. I reread his nov
els regularly. That maybe strange, as I know
all the people and the stories in his books.
Nevertheless, I don't think that I am an early
Alzheimer case, although you never know.
This is the great unexplained mystery of
Dickens: reading his novels you are uplifted
by his love for people, his love for live, his
vitality, his fun, and his efforts to leave a bet
ter world than he entered. I propose a toast to
the Immortal Memory of Charles Dickens.
Toast to the Dickens Fellowship, Christmas meeting
("Trou Moet Blijcken") December 2006.
by Guus de Landtsheer
Dear Dickensians,
It's always a challenge to express one's
feelings in a way that other people will
understand what you really mean. Even
more so if you do this in a language
which isn't your mother tongue.
In Holland, and I have a feeling that it's
more or less the same in Britain, there's
a tradition, if the occasion is of the
utmost importance, to express one's
feelings in a poem. So I had to solve
several problems when I was asked to
propose a toast to the Dickens
Fellowship this year during our
Christmas diner.
First I had to master my emotions after the
board made their request to me and immedi
ately afterwards to overcome a severe panic
attack.
Secondly what could I add to all the things
already said over the past 50 years in a nice
poem without being a poet at all.
The solution I found was this:
In accordance with the expression:
If you can't beat them, join them, I choose for:
If you can't write poetry steal a poem.
Lots of famous people did the same and in lit
erary circles they even invented a nice expres
sion for it and turned what is just a petty
crime into a work of art.
So what you're gone hear in a few moments
isn't plagiarism, but a pastiche.
And to make it even more exciting, I challenge
you to give me the name of the poet* and the
poem** I used after I have finished my toast.
The Dutch in the Dickens Fellowship
Life isn't only feasting,
With drinks and many a song,
Was happiness found in sleeping sound,
