On that self same holiday in central Europe we had a few days in Budapest. We enjoyed it, staying in a strange guest house that felt like something out of Graham Greene’s imagination. It was a young city, vibrant, hopeful but everywhere something took you back 30 years, 50 years, 100 years to more sinister times, more controlling times. It was like you could sweep the streets but not wash away all the ingrained suspicion. My mind played tricks on me and I wrote this little piece. No idea where it came from…

Silly Love Song (Budapest)

‘I need to mate,’ said the beauty from Buda,

As she stared sadly across the Danube.

But I don’t know what to do for the best.

The choice, after all, couldn’t be cruder:

My egg and his mayo in some cheap test-tube

Or a shag with that cheapskate from Pest.