Until that day, the Netherlands suffered from code red inflation. It was the time when the KNMI began to spread weather warnings more and more often, sowing wind, but seldom reaping storms. Rain, slippery conditions and snow, thunderstorms, gusts of wind, heat, cold and dense fog: there was danger in every type of weather. The Netherlands grumbled and set out with a color chart of the Gamma in their pocket to see if it was green, yellow, orange or red again.
We gradually became color blind. It will blow over, we thought, but hell-wipe Friederieke made our country with her proverbial German gründlichkeit flush with the ground.
We have now learned our lesson. It is always the female storms that haunt the polder landscape like shrews. Friederieke, Ciara and even Gerda, whose name incorrectly suggests that this is a middle-aged storm with a short but spicy course, can do quite well. Less than three weeks ago, Corrie got it on her hips, the way only Corrie can get it on her hips.
Compared to these furies, masculine storms like Jan and Klaas are wet winds in a glass of water. So when Eunice announced her arrival, we braced ourselves.
Is it a coincidence that this shark bay set foot on the very night that the corona measures were relaxed? We would be able to dance again until after midnight, there would be a rush in the football stadiums and the isolation advice after a positive test went from seven to five days.
Nature decided otherwise. Anyone who did not adhere to the KNMI’s quarantine advice – stay inside! — and yet wanted to dance, had to brave the storm at the risk of his own life. The KNVB was forced to cancel all football matches on Friday evening and to confirm that decision, Eunice took a deep breath and blew off the roof of the ADO stadium.
The name Eunice comes from Greek and means ‘victory’. So it’s obvious that Mother Nature wanted to make a point. The kenau kept our country locked for an extra evening. Not us, but she’s in charge here.