I have let this blog lie fallow for long enough now. I feel the ground has been replenished, and the nutrients returned to this previously barren land. Or alternatively, sitting in
So, let’s wrap up this interminable holiday ramble which I began months ago, and which is news that is so old that it should be called olds. (Ha! I bet no-one’s made that gag before. It’s kind of Rodney Dangerfield/Jimmy Tarbuck level. Maybe I could sell it to one of them, if they weren’t dead. Is Tarby dead yet? No? Pity.)
We eventually made it to
The cottage was very excellent, having been set up specifically for families with children to visit by a Brit couple who moved over there and set up a business doing well, just what I’ve described really. You can, if you so wish, find their website here.
My mum and dad came over to complete the picture, with me driving up to
Bodonci is in a national park which uniquely (the literature implied) spans the borders of three countries –
Anyway, we had a very good time – a completely different kind of holiday to the first week in
Finally, we drove up to
Finally: Tips for driving in
- There are good road signs but they are written in an appallingly difficult to read font.
- Most radio stations are named after famous Hungarians – the classical station is “Bartok”, there is one called “Kossuth” and another called “Petofi”. I was hoping there’d be a sports station called Puskas, but no. There is also one called Slager, which isn’t the name of a famous Hungarian, but is seemingly a German word meaning “Rubbish music from the 80s”
- Whereas in most countries the capital city features on a disproportionate number of road signs, in
Hungary, apparently, all roads lead to . I’ve no idea where Miskolc is (though it seems to be almost omnipresent) or what it is famous for, but every road sign seems to direct you there. Miskolc
Now I have to fly to