Ey up! I’m back, and this week, am reminiscing about the time I went to the Artists’ village in Hungary. I cruised it down the Danube like Jane McDonald, and went strolling for art. At around 40 degrees, I felt faint so went for a traditional goulash, then spared by shoulders from burning by shade-hunting in its Retro Design Center.
With one burnt head-crack, yet freakishly untannable white legs later, I stocked up on the area’s local fruity brandy, Pálenka, then set sail back to Budapest. Have a watch above love.
If you’ve got any questions about the trip, ask away in me comments, cock.