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Showing posts from March 16, 2025

Chapter nine

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  Chapter nine in which Uncle Stan’s defection leads to unlooked-for popularity ... Uncle Stan called. Had a bit of luck and was all keyed up to tell us about it so Mother got everyone together to hear the news. As usual, Mother was in charge of the phone, standing by to interpret Uncle Stan’s words to us by means of grimacing, gesturing and eloquently lifting her eyebrows. She had sound effects too, so it was with a great deal of pleasure that we anticipated Uncle Stan’s fortnightly call.      The show started with a lot of grinning when Uncle Stan announced that he was out of the refugee camp  and that he found a cleaning job. Mother, mindful of who might be listening, acknowledged the news by  grunting noncommittally into the receiver. (To us she gave the thumbs up gesture and mouthed the word job.)  Encouraged by this show of support, Uncle Stan revealed that he’d managed to rent a room somewhere  reasonable and that his German language...
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Chapter three

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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,  inadverte...
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Chapter one

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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 boy...
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Prologue

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  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.
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