The Boy and The Coconut Tree

I don't really know the man I am writing to. I have spent no more than 24 hours with him since 1973 when he moved away with his new family and pretended I didn't exist.  When he swept back into my life in 1984 he acted as if he was the 2nd coming of Christ, he expected me to worship him as a long lost hero.  My first impressions of my biological father when I was 14 were not good. He was trying to be cool and he wasn't. He thought this cynical kid was going to be impressed by his guitar and cigars, I wasn't. I was of course curious, who wouldn't be!? I had loads of questions and still do. He acted as if his abandonment of me was normal yet wondered why I had forgotten he existed.  I was 3.5 when he vanished with his new wife. I am told the story how he offered me to my Dad as if I was a possession. Now my mother has never said too many bad things about him. We have talked about his strict upbringing, the bulling by his father, the smothering by his mother and the o

I will explain the title later.  I have just returned from a visit to Amsterdam to see another part of my family, my brother Andrew, his wife Laura and their little girl, Toni.  I stayed in their home in the hear of the  Jordaan district overlooking the  Brouwersgracht . This wasn't my first trip to Amsterdam but it was the first time I stayed in a family home and it made a difference to experience the city like a local, meeting the locals. I met some interesting people that I would never have met, a particular mention must be the two ladies who work in a coffee store on  Haarlemmerstraat. The two ladies who work in there were funny, not a word of English was spoken but they told me and Andrew we looked nothing alike but we did have the same wrinkles! I bought a lovely Indonesian coffee that was darker than ebony and smells divine. I had to be careful talking about coffee shops as there is a huge difference between a coffee shop and a cafe.   Coffee shops are the places p