The eagle is landing

I'd actually intended to use today's post to sum up some thoughts (Kadri's and mine) about the trials I wrote about last week. But elder bro and soz-in-law are descending on Prague tomorrow for the weekend. As long as no one between there and here decides they're a potentially lethal substance, they'll hopefully be bearing vast quantities of extremely stinky olives. Felt obliged to withdraw my request for the disposable bbq though.

Nothing but sweetness and light in casa peril, you might think. Or at least as much sweetness and light as brine, oil and the pungent odours of raw garlic, chili and jet fuel can provide. Nonetheless, I am wracked with anxiety about the organisational side of things. It's a huge unknown quantity.

Visions of disaster flit across my empty mind. My track record isn't the best in this area. Since the time my sleeping bag acted as a sponge for a cow pasturesworth of collected rain during a howling gale, my tour leadership experience has been a veritable compendium of missed connections, closed-for-repairs, food poisoning, speeding tickets, riots and Polish mazurka dancers.

Not revealing any secrets because they don't often pass by here (but you never know…). Anyhow this is the plan so far:

Day 1
Crack of dawn (early-risers. sigh.)
Bridge
Castle
Emergency cake
Admiring of cobblestones
Admiring of brewery
Emergency beer*
Mala Strana
More emergency beer
Maybe some food

Day 2
Crack of mid-morning
Josefov
Emergency pancakes (shh… that's the secret surprise)
Old Town
Museum of Communism
Lunch potato
Museum of something or other
Emergency light beer
Dinner in the aeroplane restaurant
Emergency dark beer

Day 3
???????
Beer. Light and dark.

I think it could do with more depth.

*This is for them, not me. But if I get my timing right, they might not notice that I'm hiding under the table with a head-torch for 20 minutes of nerve-soothing Wodehouse.