Easter?

The sky in Szekesfehervar is resplendent in unlikely candy colours; smeared pink and purple and pale blue, a few minutes before sunset, and just after an unseasonal snowstorm.
The arms of naked trees, now trussed in ice crystals are silhouetted against this cliched sky, and the wind has died down to a whisper.

It has been a difficult Easter to say the least.
My Saturday at home was joyous. Busy, full of music, but happy. However I expected the rest of the long weekend to continue in the same vein, the same lighthearted, love-centred frivolous colourful time-passing. But no...
There has been so much shouting, so much arguing and forced smiles and deliberate tradition-keeping that all fun was taken out of it. I've been waiting 8 years to experience a Hungarian Easter again, with locsolas and all that comes with it. Balint managed one line of verse, and a mug full of cold water, and a couple of neighbours came by with putrid perfume, but because neither B's mum nor sister were enthusiastic about the practice, not to mention B, the atmosphere was sizzling with pent up frustration.

By the evening I had the beginnings of what must have been a migraine, because it's a headache the likes of which I've never experienced before.

The way B's dad shouts at his sister makes my guts bunch up. She might be insolent but surely the parents have a part in that too? It could have been so easy to take the Easter days one day at a time, and not worry about convention or anything like that.
The happiest moments have been watching Amigo, the gorgeous terrier play in the kitchen and try to dig up the linoleum tiles.

I am contorted on the floor, doing work now, and thinking how good it will be to be back in Bp, in our little burrow, in a comfy chair at a desk...

The sky is turning dark grey now, smeared with a more serious pink, and I can see the reflection of the satellite dish in a puddle by the door.