Chapter three in which Uncle Stan’s foreign correspondence comes under scrutiny, and Cousin Alice ends up writhing on the tiles   Predictably, after the festivities died down, things turned a bit more serious. Before the week was out, Mother and Dad and the old folk had some interviews at the police station regarding Uncle Stan’s departure. As customary in those circumstances, everyone was  just  devastated.      ‘We’d never have guessed he could do such a thing!’ Mother, suitably appalled at Uncle Stan’s behaviour,  clutched her head theatrically for the benefit of the interrogators. Bemoaning Uncle Stan’s weak moral fiber,  Mother declared his conduct at odds with the strong communist tradition we’ve apparently nurtured .      ‘Utterly incomprehensible!’   Mother wailed, proposing diminished mental capacity and citing numerous  cases of it in the family. At this point, babka Zlatka, bless 'er,  inadvertent...

Chapter one in which the family roasts a chook when Uncle Stan decides to search for greener pastures I knew Vendula was special the moment I saw her. Clutching a ladybug in her chubby little fist,  Vendula sat in the meadow full of blooming daisies. A drunken bumblebee made her laugh, and her  voice, like silver bells covered with snow, chimed a quiet, pretty tune. I was enchanted and decided to stay.       At first, living with Vendula was plain sailing. Luck had always followed her like a puppy on a leash.  A skip and a sniff and a leg up every so often, we knew where we were going. Vendula, a ballerina in  a paper weight world, sailed through life as if every day was a walk through a rose garden where  friends gathered like fluffy clouds. But then the summer of ‘79 rolled in and overnight things started to  go pear-shaped.      First there was puberty. It came upon us suddenly, like a runaway train, bringing boys,...

  Part 1 Czechoslovakia, 1981 - 1983 Things happen. Things you would never have dreamed of. Things you might have thought about just maybe happening on the other side of the galaxy but you'd never image them happening in your own life. But they do. My name is Franta. I live in Vendula's head. Vendula is a girl who likes to daydream. She conjured me out of thin air like magic when she was just a wee little thing, and we've been together ever since. Our life is filled with good moments and good people, and the sum of it, we fancy, makes for quite a good tale.