Tuesday, 26 May 2015


I'm not sure if I've already mentioned this but, when we were in Budapest a month or so ago, we remembered how, when we'd been looking for a house, a local architect had tried to persuade us to take one that was potentially lovely although fairly, (all right, extremely), battered. He assured us that it would be ready within the year (the year being 1999), which was fine as our lease was only running out in a year's time.

I was all for it, but my husband, while seeing the potential, was a bit hesitant. He wasn't entirely convinced by the architect's promises.

On a walk in April of this year, (i.e. 2015, some 16 years later), we found ourselves in the vicinity of that house. As we had always half regretted letting it slip through our fingers, we decided to go and see how it looked in its reincarnated renovated form.

As it happened, we had absolutely no trouble recognising it. Here is why:

I think the only progress made in the last 16 years is that the renovators have bought some better fitting bin bags for the windows. Meanwhile, the organisation for which we were seeking a house has packed up and left Budapest. It may return one day - perhaps in a decade or two. Who knows whether the house will be ready by then or whether it will remain frozen in its melancholy, could-be-lovely state.

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