STONE FACES AND BEER.

Dobry den! (that’s hello in Czech) I know it’s been a few days but here I am, in the very pretty small city of Hradec Kralove in the Czech Republic. Its about fifty miles from the Polish border, give or take. If someone had said a few years ago I would be visiting the Czech Republic I would have said, ” What for ?” But this is where my daughter lives and it’s a nice place to visit, apart from the locals. Now I’m not saying we Brits are the happiest of nations, in fact if you go to visit London it’s a heaving mass of grumpiness. Grimfaced men and women trying to get on with their day without cracking a smile. I live in the north of England where it’s fairly normal for a nod of the head or a cheery hello are quite common. Here it’s very different and a bit of a cultural shock.If you say good morning you get a grunt back, and that’s if you’re lucky.

The younger generation are fairly happy to be honest, but the older lot are very….. dour. Maybe the communists took their sense of humour when they left in 1989. In fact the lady who works in the local shop is about as friendly as a pitbull with haemorrhoids. She practically throws the shopping at you at the check out. And when you say tentatively, “Nemluvim Chesky” ( I don’t speak Czech ) she growls and glares. It gets even worse when I say, “Anglictina?” English? Shaking her head and muttering to herself saying something like, “You ignorant English pig! ” and other such pleasentries. Not that I can understand one word. The language is very difficult to master, even the basics. If you can imagine Italian being spoken backwards then you’ll get the idea.

Statues are everywhere….

Every street… Every corner…

In fact I think there are more statue’s than people…

The Czechs drink more beer than any country in Europe and it’s fairly cheap. They are “A proud drinking nation.” Which means they are a complete bunch of piss artists. The one good thing is when they’ve had a drink they are in a better mood, at least until they sober up. The shops nearby have three quarters of the eisles filled with strong beer. The other quarter is non-alcoholic. Its such a crazy place. Bottled water is more expensive than beer!

The food is obviously very different from home and I can’t find mushy peas anywhere. The sausages are like hotdogs but you can buy something called Anglictina slalina which means ‘ English bacon’. I don’t think it’s ever seen England and it’s very dubious it’s from a pig. It looks nothing like bacon. When you put it under the grill it doesn’t just spit the occasional bit of hot fat out but attacks anybody in the kitchen. Bloody awful stuff. The first and only time we had it I had third degree burns over my face.

Oh and the bells….bells all over. Ding dong on the hour every hour day in day out. Its like a bell competition between three clock towers and a church. Who can be the loudest at two in the morning? I can understand how Quasimodo felt now… anyhow I’ve got earplugs in and two pillows strapped to my head so I might get a peaceful night…