Erika got a tax bill today. It was sent by recorded mail by the tax office a couple of days ago, but it was issued by that office two months ago. Because she is late in paying the bill (i.e. it is two months since it was issued) she has to pay a fine too. This might seem unfair to most of us. Well, it is unfair, after all. She just shrugged and said, “This is Romania – there’s nothing I can do”
I have discovered that the Hungarian word for cheese is sajt. There may be nothing interesting in that you might think, but in fact this word is pronounced like “shite”. Well, at least shite uttered in a light Belfast accent. Those of you who know me and of my huge aversion to cheese (or satan’s jism, as I prefer), will understand how enjoyable I feel this fact to be. Want some shite with that? Fancy a shite sandwich? Shall we go to McDonalds for a shiteburger? The humorous anti-cheese possibilities are endless.
One or two people have asked how you leave comments on this blog. (Honestly) Well, you click on the bit where it says “0 Comments” at the bottom of the post in question, and then you’ll have the option of adding one of your own. I realise I’m setting myself up here for a severe ego-trashing. Right now I can imagine that the lack of comments is down to the inability of people to contribute. Now I’ll have to assume it’s down to disinterest.
I am within days of posting photos – sorry it’s taken so long, but I’m a little slow, and using the computer for a length of time beyond about 7 minutes is regarded as unnecessarily long and boring by Bogi, and I am often forced from the seat in favour of devoting my attention to her rather than this boring screen.
Update from an earleir post: One of the villages we passed through on our abortive trip down the Csango valley was partially buried in a landslide later that day. As of yesterday, Comanesti was still closed due to the floods.
The GAA Championship, Week 3: The Munsters
7 hours ago