A Year In Nadada: Week Thirty- The Population Of Hungary

Nearly there. Nearly up to date.

With the grinding of brick walls, the Freytag House shuffled off. A tacky fire door swung shut behind us. The ceiling was so low we have to stoop. Two woman at the bar drank pina coladas, and a man played darts on a melted board with upside down numbers. His glass contained cocktail umbrellas, and lots of ice. Something with a lot of crooning played from a cracked glass jukebox.

Another building shot past a grimy window. Red lights burst from a club packed with people, moving in frantic time with a bass beat. We may have picked the wrong time to board.

I decided we might get as well get a drink. Not that there was any service behind a bar chipping away to the MDF underneath. But something waited for me, a semi-frozen pink liquid in a plastic Martini glass. I had never seen a plastic Martini glass before, even on the surface.

Despite the colour, my aperitif tasted of pineapple and mango, and numbed my tongue However, I wasn’t thinking about the flavours and temperature. I was thinking about football.

Trivia cocktails would be revolutionary if the recipe taught you about engineering or biochemistry. Instead they fill your brain with FA Cup winners and number one singles from 1980’s. By the third glass I had memorised every goalkeeper in the premiership era of Manchester United, and the year of release of every Stanley Kubrick films. Soon we chatted with the others in the club about the largest rivers in South America, and what a verbarian is.

This was fun at first. But we’ve ended up staying here for three days. They only have pub snacks, toasties, and trivia cocktail. We did a gig yesterday after much cajoling, and instead of our prepared material, we improvised around where you can find a Sheela-na-gig, and the popular exports of Hungary.

I have had to hide in the toilet to escape from the relentless general knowledge.

Now I’m not sure where to look for the Kandinsky next. Must we hop from building to building, trying to find a way home?

No. I’m going to wait, and see what happens.


My view of the club as it flew past.