The highlights of today were breakfast (pictured), ice cream at the zoo, a couple of particularly good geocaches, and beers with Dr Pockless, who has potential to be a Bad Influence on his small nephew.
When I said that yesterday was a busy day, I was not taking account of today, which was surely far more busy. We started early again, because today is not a bank holiday and the bin men like to get on with it, closely followed by the people digging up the street below our second floor window. I am very happy with the AirB&B experience, and I’m pretty sure it’s hard to find a roadworks-free zone in BP at the moment, so that wasn’t a moan.
Having cleverly purchased bread and jam yesterday, that’s what we had for breakfast; and in (for us) a leisurely fashion, we didn’t leave the flat until about 9.30. The promised miserable weather was nowhere to be seen, so at last Bernard got his island bike experience. We hired a bright yellow side-by-side tandem affair with a little shelf on the front for His Lordship to sit upon while his grownups did all the work. I steered while Pete navigated us to the geocaches (and panicked every time we took a sharp turn). We didn’t find as many as we might have hoped for, but did have a truly marvellous time doing it. About five minutes before our hour was up, we realised we were a mile from Bike Hire HQ, and had to pedal like fury to get the yellow peril back there. It may have been cheating to track that one on RunKeeper, but it tells me we did 3.3 miles there.
For lunch, we went to the supermarket and had the adventure of buying kolbasz and pickled salad, and made extremely good sandwiches in the flat. We then had a siesta, because we are on holiday, so we can. I bet you wish you could have had a siesta today.
After our siesta, we set out to walk down to Batthany Ter, thence catch a tram to Clark Adam Ter to save small legs too much walking. Unfortunately this is part of the 50% of Budapest currently being dug up, so there were no trams and we had to use our best wise traveller skills to find a bus instead. Once there we had fun finding a geocache in the company of some other people who were also pretending not to be hunting for a geocache. We found it first. Then we took the funicular railway up the hill, always a spectacularly unphotogenic experience.
At the top, we circumvented some well-armed guards, and vowed to buy as little as possible in this the most exhorbitant part of the city. Bernard immediately found himself to be catastrophically hungry and thirsty, but was easily distracted by the opportunity to throw some shurikens at a barrel. See what good parents we are?
We did some general wandering, which included paying to walk on the only part of Fisherman’s Bastion that isn’t free, and yet isn’t noticeably different to any of the other parts. Bernard thought that bit was ace. Then we accidentally wandered down the wrong side of the hill and got on a tram that we hoped would take us to somewhere we recognised. Happily it did. This photo shows us being lost and scared at a tram stop somewhere in Buda. 
Finally, we fell into the nearest restaurant to our flat, Hid Bisztro, or Bridge Bistro if it makes any difference to you. In keeping with the theme of our day, this is bang in the middle of some major excavations. It also serves pleasant pizza and cheap whisky. We were ravenous, and ready to rest our legs before we do it all again tomorrow.
We have done so much today that I can’t remember it all. Well, we did kick off at 6.30am after not a great sleep. Pete and I are on an extremely firm sofa bed, while his lordship gets the comfy bed on the mezzanine floor above us.
Today is a bank holiday in Hungary, so very few shops are open,and we weren’t able to pick up any supplies yesterday either, because it all shuts on Sunday too. So when the child eventually prised us out, we headed across the road to Cafe Bambi, where the staff are less engaging than the name might suggest. I had possibly the longest conversation I have ever had in Hungarian, and we all got a decent breakfast. Rain fell throughout, and Bernard sulked because I said the promised bike ride on Margit Island wasn’t really on in this weather. Instead, I headed over to the island to run on the rubber running track, which my legs rather liked; and the boys went in search of an open shop to try and get some bread and coffee. All parties were successful in their various missions.
After some communication with DrP, we decided to walk over the bridge and into the city 
centre to find a light lunch, picking up a few geocaches on the way. The best of these was the one threaded into some broken masonry on a ministerial building opposite the Houses of Paliament, overlooked by armed guards. What larks.
All of a sudden it was lunchtime and drizzling again, so we dived into a smart but almost entertainingly slow restaurant and ate slightly more than intended. Bernard likes the nokedli best. And finally after a very long wait to pay, we made our way to Miniversum, to meet the Pocklesses. We saw most of Hungary as well as parts of Austria over the next hour or so, and then sipped coffee while the children played with trains. On holiday, I think Bernard feels like he hasnto follow us around all the time doing boring things, so it really is good when he gets to play with his one and only cousin the Pocklet.
We had time to spare before our evening restaurant booking, so went up in the big wheel for four cloudy spins over Budapest.
Finally we walked towards Ket Szerecen, a restaurant I’ve been going to since my first trip here about 15 years ago. With so much pro-tourist change in the city, it’s brilliant to find some of the old places still going, especially the ones that don’t have unhappy associations. So we ate lots more food and then waddled up Andrassy to Oktogon and took the tram back to our apartment. Glad I had a run this morning, and we’ve all walked loads, so we need the energy, right?
Today has mostly been about the travelling, true trains, planes and automobiles style. My smugness at good packing was somewhat undone when Pete had to repack our toiletries because the ziplock bags i had used were millimetres ober the standard size. Other than that it all went smoothly. Bernard has flown once before, aged 3, so was super excited all over again: oh wow, oh my goodness! and managed about an hour before he got bored (the tablet battery having run out before we even got to the airport).
On arrival we were met and driven into town by the Erstwhile Dr Pockless his very self, which was just the height of luxury. The main road into town is still a dusty, billboard-strewn memory lane, if a little less shabby than it was 15 years ago; and i remember a surprising amount of hungarian. And I think that this iteration of Karen is more likely actually to use it.
Our AirB&B apartment is on the second floor of one of the old houses, very similar to my first flat here and right by Margit Bridge. Bernard’s bed is on a mezzanine floor above the sitting room, and if he wasn’t so tired I’m fairly sure he would have refused to sleep up there as it all feels a bit precarious.
The gourmand DrP had to head home, but recommended we try out a food festival about a km away from the flat. We walked up there, negotiated the entrance and the purchase of several glasses of wine, some water, a bowl of tagliatelle with pesto, three portions of csirkepaprikas, some langoskenyer to share, and some more wine. My hungarian is understood, even if it does still get answered in german – I remember that from before, too.
We then treated B to a ride on the tram, got off on the middle of the bridge, and watched a sound and light display at the fountains on Margit Island. With the last of the boy’s energy, we came back to the flat and he was asleep seconds after I finished his story, which is not like him at all. Pete and I made up the sofa bed and enjoyed all the wifi.
It’s going to be fun showing Bernard to Budapest, or the other way around.
We are all checked in for Budapest and, in this newfangled fashion, I have printed our boarding documents. I have also packed our toiletries into ziplock bags and everything else is in hand-luggage sized cases (actually come to think of it, our luggage is mostly hand-luggage sized anyway). Bernard has flown once before, to Barcelona at the age of three. He was very, very excited, and squealed “up up and away” as the plane took off. At nearly-9 going on nearly-14 he will probably be too cool for that sort of thing this time.
Also newfangledly we are staying in an AirB&B, and now that I am a responsible grown up with numerous expensive devices, I also have travel insurance. Funny how things change.
We are staying right beside Margit Island, which has a 5km running track around it. So that’s going to be novel too.
Bernard is mostly looking forward to eating gulyas out of a cauldron.
I have this blog thing here and I haven’t written on it for ages, etc.
Yesterday I ran the Royal Berkshire 10k, a race with the same starting line as the Reading Half Marathon, but which then heads into the countryside instead of the town.
I haven’t run that distance since last September when the ENTIRELY UPHILL Windsor 10k nearly killed me. And I’ve had very few runs that didn’t involve a certain amount of walking, which disappoints me every time but my legs and my head gang up on me until I stop running. However I did manage a 5 mile run a few weeks ago (with walks) so I was pretty confident I could manage the distance, one way or another.
In the end I had a brilliant time, and I think it was largely in the preparation. So I had a longish (for me) run on Tuesday, followed by nothing for the rest of the week. I ate mountains of pasta and drank no beer or wine but plenty of water on Saturday, and spent the day lazing around. I gathered my favourite bits of running kit around me, supplemented with the “free” t-shirt which was a hideous shade of pink, and happily Bernard was invited to a birthday party, freeing Pete up to come and be my support team.
It was a beautiful day for it, not too hot, bit of a breeze. I was somewhat perturbed by the crazy long queue for the loos at the start, but they delayed the race until it had cleared so I needn’t have worried. Despite mounting nervousness, and telling Pete I really didn’t enjoy this sort of thing and wasn’t sure I should have signed up for it, there was a helpfully cheerful atmosphere around me. Standing in the crowd waiting to go, a friend came and gave me a hug, so I started with a smile on my face.
The first mile was entirely taken up with staring around at the spectacle, and then I noticed my friend running alongside me so we had a bit of a chat. As we left the business park and headed uphill over the motorway bridge, I left her behind, and focused on the 75 minute pacer about 100 metres ahead of me. I would be perfectly happy if I made it in 75 minutes, so I resolved to maintain that distance behind the pacer. My headphones were in (the Puppini Sisters christmas album, it’s incongruous but a good pace for running) and the voicelet told me I’d already run two miles before I even started to think about how difficult it was all going to be. Traditionally the first two miles are the hardest for me, so I took this to be a very good sign.
Ahead of me I could see the line of pink and blue runners snaking around a field and up over another motorway bridge. Yes, we were issued with pink tshirts for girls and blue for boys, as I discovered on arrival. I wouldn’t have worn my pink if I’d known that was the deal. Apparently it was a rainbow coloured run, but quite the sexist rainbow, really. So three miles approached and I rather hoped there would be a water station soon, but there was no sign. I hate to carry a bottle, and was just starting to feel a little bit dry. Everything else seemed in order, with occasional, ignorable requests from my legs to stop and walk for a bit. I figured I could walk for a few minutes when I got my water.
We crossed the bridge on one lane of the road, with cars passing on the other lane – clapping and cheering us on, it really helps! Then there was a fabulous winding downhill section with lakes behind the trees, interesting houses to look at, and The Cardigans in my ears.
The water station appeared at the 6km mark, complete with a man with a tannoy yelling “half way there, half way to go,” the annoying mathematical inexactitude of which carried me through the next half mile. By this time I had caught up with the pacer, and with the criss-crossing at the water station, I lost her somewhere, and figured I might as well carry on without (never did catch up with the 70 minute pacer though). My legs felt very happy, no twinges, no grumbles, and now a water bottle to hold for a while gave me something to think about. I was actually passing people who had stopped to walk by this time, but we were coming up to mile 5 and it seemed pointless to stop and walk now, so I encouraged them along as I passed. I hope this didn’t annoy them (the lady stumbling wearily up the railway bridge didn’t seem too happy to be encouraged).
Over the bridge we went, and back down into the business park, with something from Different Class in my head clashing with the samba band. The movement of people playing samba reminds me of zombies, so that gave me something to look at in a weird fascinated way. Last mile, one of Pete’s songs playing gave me the boost that I needed as my brain and legs accidentally reconnected and let me know I was starting to tire. But I knew I was going to see the finish line at any moment – round the next bend – or the next… Remembering how long the last straight section had felt at Windsor I had a moment of doubt, before being cheered into the final straight and seeing the finish far closer than I had expected – so I cheered up and sped up as I watched the timer tick just over 1:15:00 – and it was done.
Pete found me, bubbling over about how good it had been. Walk? Me?! I ran the whole 10k and it felt great. Official chip time was 1:13:03 so not quite a PB but I really, really don’t mind. Now, what’s next?
I am in this picture, but it’s a bit of a Where’s Wally.
Upon my first listen to this album, I thought “oh no, not again.” It seemed to be more of that pretentious nonsense that Brian Eno came up with last time he worked with Bowie. However, upon further listening, it’s really started to grow on me. Let’s dive in.
First off, it’s probably worth explaining that this is a concept album. There’s a plot running throughout (dystopic near-future, murder in the name of pushing the boundaries of art, usual kind of thing) so there are recurring characters, and most notably spoken-word interludes that serve to augment the story. The lyrics themselves don’t do a very thorough job of explaining everything, I believe the liner notes would rectify this somewhat (if I had them).
The first actual song on this album is Outside. This song is probably the reason why I had such an initially negative reaction to the album, because it reminded me so much of the Berlin trilogy where all the components didn’t seem to quite fit together properly. However, with familiarity, I’ve revised my opinion of it to a far more acceptable “indifferent”. There’s much better stuff on this album.
The Hearts Filthy Lesson is one of my favourites, and it’s no surprise that Trent Reznor likes it too. It’s dark and dirty and heavy and industrial, and is sung from the perspective of the story’s main protagonist, Detective Nathan Adler. There’s also mention of a former lover called Ramona, who is also crucial to the ongoing plot. I love the way that the piano is incorporated into this song, it has a pleasing incongruousness. Which probably makes me sound hypocritical, after what I said about the previous song, but what can I say, I’m a fickle creature.
I don’t much fancy A Small Plot Of Land. Cool jazzy intro, but the dirgesome vocals are unbearable. Now, I fully appreciate that this album is a work of art, and my discomfort here is probably not unintentional. It’s got its place in the story – the supposed narrator of this song is the residents of Oxford Town, pouring pity upon the crazy unidentified serial killer whose actions are the subject of the album.
Next up is one of the weird segue pieces which takes the form of a recording by fourteen-year old Grace. She has a weird voice (which is really Bowie through some weird filters, but you could probably guess that) and can’t think straight, and it is revealed that Ramona (remember Ramona?) has put her on some drugs.
Now, you’ll have heard Hallo Spaceboy before, the Pet Shop Boys remix at the very least. What really caught me off guard is how much more brilliant the original is. It’s heart-stoppingly intense. It sounds like the heavy remix that you get on the B-side of a Republica single. Suddenly, the line “this chaos is killing me” doesn’t seem so inappropriate, because the song is chaotic. Honestly, having heard the original now, I’m thinking that the Pet Shop Boys have a lot to answer for. This one is sung from the perspective of Detective Nathan Adler’s assistant, Paddy, who is addressing Leon Blank, current prime suspect as the serial killer in question. Again, you’d need to know this from an external source, because the lyrics are fairly vague when taken in isolation.
The Motel opens as a delicate, haunting song, with fretless bass and the vocals (this time delivered by Leon Blank, who is hiding from the world in a motel) have been treated in a way that gives them a somewhat aquatic, shimmery quality, like an MP3 at less than 128kbps. Halfway through the song explodes into life, which I guess we can safely interpret as Leon being discovered, otherwise why would he be making such a bloody great racket.
In I Have Not Been To Oxford Town, things are continuing to look bleak for poor Leon. He maintains his innocence while confronted by the baying masses. Musically another great song, lots of catchy hooks and cute little guitar stabs, and it does that very effective trick of sitting on one chord throughout most of the verse, which just serves to accentuate the changes when they do come. The line “if I had not met Ramona” suggests why he’s on the hook for this murder in the first place.
Now, No Control starts off sounding a bit like Spaceman by Babylon Zoo, and ain’t that a pop culture comparison for the kids. In this song, we’re back to Nathan Adler’s perspective, as he muses on the futility of his job, and trying to effectively reverse entropy. Musically, let’s say it’s another one that I haven’t grown particularly fond of.
Another weird segue – who’s this fucking Algeria Touchshriek and why is he telling us about his shop and his loneliness? What’s that got to do with the price of fish?
I’ve mentioned before how Bowie’s influence on Of Montreal is so apparent sometimes, and none so much as the next song. It’s even got a nice verbose title, The Voyeur of Utter Destruction (As Beauty). This is the first time that the true murderer, identity not yet revealed, sings to us in the first person. They’re clearly struggling to retain their grip on reality. It’s suitably chaotic and shouty and incredibly incredibly busy.
And then we meet Ramona, a tortured artiste who’s not all there either. This segue leads right into the next song, I Am With Name. A fairly eerie song, and I’m not even sure that the lyrics serve much purpose in terms of pushing the story forwards. It feels a bit fillery. It’s almost as if it was added for the sole reason of giving Ramona some screen time.
Let’s move on to Wishful Beginnings another sparse and eerie soundscape. This one’s from the serial killer’s perspective, in which he possibly shows some remorse about what he’s done. If you don’t mind going down the rabbit hole that is TV Tropes, this might be an example of Pet The Dog.
I’m quite fond of the next song, We Prick You. I’ve always been keen on the marriage of an insanely fast drum beat with leisurely vocals, it’s strangely appealing. Lyrically speaking, it’s another instance where you’d struggle to figure out what it’s driving at, but external sources inform me that it’s supposed to be from the perspective of the court, who are now interrogating the three suspects – Leon, Ramona, and Touchshriek (who, as far as I can tell, has been dragged into this solely on the basis of being an old man who lives alone, poor bastard).
We are then treated to a segue where Nathan Adler evaluates the three suspects. Interestingly, he speaks with a broad American drawl, which couldn’t be further from the accent that he’s been singing to us in all this time, but never mind. And then, as if from nowhere, we’re treated to the erratic sounds of I’m Deranged, in which the killer doesn’t really tell us anything that we didn’t know already. However, what may be of note is that back in No Control, Adler himself repeatedly used the line “it’s all deranged”. Coincidence? Seems unlikely. It’s another song with a machine-gun beat and a little unsettling plinky plonking on a piano.
It’s quite a stylistic jump to the next song, Thru’ These Architects Eyes, which is another song that I’ve become very enamoured of. The melody hits that perfect edge where it’s catchy, but not predictable, and I’ve been singing along to the chorus a fair bit. This one’s sung by Leon, and given how happy he sounds about the world, I guess he’s no longer under suspicion for murder. Another jazzy piano solo at the end, it’s funny how there aren’t many musical instruments where you can get away with just bashing out notes randomly.
Another little segue where Adler clarifies that Leon and Ramona were a couple but now aren’t. Why is this relevant? Who knows. But we’re nearly at the end of the album.
Now, one complaint that I’ve levelled more than once during this project is that sometimes Bowie albums don’t have a strong closing track, but I’m going to say that I’m satisfied with Strangers When We Meet. Granted, it’s a little MOR, but to be honest I think I’m ready for it. Some of this album is quite tough going, so it’s a relief to finish with a real quality pop song, and as far as I can tell it’s not significant in the plot.
And we’re done. I’ve been listening to this album for many many weeks now, and I have to say that there are some songs on there that I could definitely have kept listening to. But it’s time to press on with the project.
Hits from this album: Hallo Spaceboy is the only single that did much.
My favourite song from this album: Tricky to choose this, I love the industrial vibe in The Hearts Filthy Lesson and Hallo Spaceboy, and the quality pop of Strangers When We Meet, but I think that Thru’ These Architects Eyes probably has the most going for it, in my opinion.
Next up: Earthling
Things are going well in the garden, and Karen’s been out there with her ho, tidying up where required. Going to have some fine spuds at the end of all this.
The beers are in the garage, undergoing the final stage of conditioning. It’s going to be another week and a half before they are ready to drink.
And I imagine you’re also eager to know what’s going on with the strange cat. Well, we seem to be holding it at bay. I asked my neighbour if it had been trying to encroach upon their house too, and he said no, which might be because he doesn’t tend to leave his back door open and forget about it, or it might be because there’s something specific in our house that this fat cat is attracted to – for example, the old Maisle herself. It’s all still a mystery, for now.