Bloggorhea, or, Who needs Twitter?

I keep wondering when the free wireless access is going to disappear. When that happens, I will too, for a while. You’ll all miss me and I’ll accumulate so much darn insight, your speculations as to what happens off-blog will only be able to be wildly off the mark, at best. And yet now, every time I open my laptop, I’m asked if I’d like to join a free network.

So. Anyway. Tonight I wandered around Györ a little more and realised that I had worn socks every single day since leaving Italy. Early autumn in Central Europe is chilly, my friends, too chilly for Birkenstocks and other such unclad foot-mode. I realised too that last night’s heartiness aside, I could have eaten most of my last week or so’s meals at a picnic. I needed the kind of dinner I would eat with my grandfather to reassure him I was regularly eating nutritious dinners. And so it came to pass that I ate a rare steak with wild mushrooms, garnished with a slices of orange and blood orange, sprigs of rosemary and sage, and a daisy, washed down with garlic soup and lashing of red wine served in glasses almost too heavy for my feeble wrists. I managed, just as I shall manage to watch the episode of Summer Heights High that I downloaded thanks to this embarrassing superflux of free wireless.

Really, you’ll all miss me when I’m gone…