And the winner is…

Eva

We were all a bit wobbly. I'll have a wine. The other one a gin and tonic. The other a vodka cola and now, just top me up, then we’ll have that sorted.

We are at Jinek's house where the nominee has to leave the premises earlier due to reporting obligations. We take another photo, we laugh, we promise each other that we will blow out candles and wave her goodbye. What the chances are. That all of Volendam will of course vote for Geraldine Kemper. That it’s already quite something that a presenter of a journalistic program has been nominated for this award.

We’ll just eat some of the Indonesian rice table that is so nicely laid out. Loved one puts on an apron. Peanut sauce on your suit is not what you want on an evening like this. His hair is too long. At my request. At least, ten years ago he won a Televizier Ring with De Wereld Draait Door. Here is the complete story. Due to an overdose of work and a lack of time, the hairdresser fell by the wayside. With long hair, he went into the yearbooks. When Eva’s nomination was announced and he wanted to make a haircut appointment, I looked at him. Maybe better not. For luck. Where the cats actually are. Or whether they will not eat themselves sick at the rice table when we are gone and leave everything as it is. That it’s the rascal cats (proof, proof) that turn up their snooty noses at our food. Okay.

Then we dive into the taxi bus. Kiss here, kiss there, a bit old-fashioned us-knowing-us. Now we really have to go to the hall. Loved one needs to pee. But now we really must. There are name tags on our chairs. I’m not sitting next to loved one. We decide to shuffle, but we get tapped on the fingers. We have to respect the seating arrangement due to the direction. I see that as a sign, but I don’t dare to say it. ‘That brings nothing’, would loved one’s Amsterdam grandpa have said. Then a cameraman stands in front of us. Next to us sits Floortje’s posse. He has his camera aimed directly at us. I think that’s a good sign. Then he moves to the right and brings the other group of guests into view. That’s not the intention, I think, but I smile politely.

The cameraman pulls a piece of paper from his inner pocket with three names on it. Then he looks to the left. At Martijn, the director of De Verenigde Staten van Eva, at my loved one, the man behind Jinek, and at Jan, Eva’s brother. Now we are really getting restless. Derk Bolt will present the award. I have respect for him, but man oh man, can that man talk for a long time. Finally, he takes the envelope. The words ‘and the winner is’ are spoken. The seconds last long. Even longer than the last five seconds of your plank session at the gym. We will know at the first letter. And the winner is… Eva. As if we have rehearsed it, our group of six jumps in the air. Our hands are shaking. And our knees too. There is Eva. There is her prize. There are all the people who were a small building block in her success. But especially Eva herself. With her beautiful speech as only she can. Cheers and hooray.

I look proudly at my husband. And now to the hairdresser.