There was some tired, faded beauty in the air today, something like the first day of spring in a world full of lengthening shadows. We went for a run, which was amazing, and lay in the balmy sunshine, but I felt the nagging tug of 'thisisnotwhatIwant'... yes, it is beautiful, and calm, and good for my soul but not good enough.

Yesterday was truly fantastic though. After promising me the services of a black rugby team (oh Daryl where art thou?) Balint surprised me with an hour long massage, at the place where his sister goes. After the intial shock of having to almost completely disrobe in front of the elderly massaging gent (who also stripped to his singlet) I let myself sink into the pleasure. It was wonderful. And then leaden sleepiness took over as soon as we got home and up to bed.

It was a wonderful weekend, don't get me wrong, but the frustration was rife in the air as soon as we got back to Budapest. What's wrong with this little country? And more importantly, what's wrong with me, and where did all that stored up fizzing love go?

I have a story in my head aching to get out...so tonight I'm going to write it out of my system, and then watch the godfather :)