At the risk of sounding like a moaning-faced git, which I suppose I am, I am becoming increasingly vexed with the dichotomy that I see in Hungary.
The nation seems to be split into two groups: the first is comprised of lovely, friendly and generally magnificent Hungarians, who would bend over backwards to help you out. Unfortunately they are in the minority.
Many Hungarians are, alas, miserable sods with faces akin to a bulldog chewing a wasp. And not a particularly tasty wasp at that. The fencing club Nats and I have been going to is largely populated with these po-faced twats (excluding Virginie, Csaba, Frozsi, Bianca and one or two others), and I am thoroughly sick of it. Tonight was the final straw, with some miserable teenage git seemingly unable to open her gob to politely ask me to move my fencing bag, with was encroaching on her piste by, oh, half a millimetre. If even that. Anyhoo, she virtually kicked it out of the way with a snarl.
Considering it was only in her general vicinity because she was glued to the back of the piste, hanging on by a frigging toenail, I couldn’t help but feel she was being a touch unreasonable, and told her so. Yes, I do speak Hungarian you silly cow.
Cheer up, for fuck’s sake.
DISCLAIMER: I am in a bit of grump, since I do love fencing and have lost my desire to do it because of the general attitude in that club. To all those Hungarians, of which there are a lot, who actually understand that facial muscles can also be used to create a smile instead of frown, and that the Hungarian language is complex enough to say a lot more than “Jaj!” repeatedly, I extend my heartfelt apologies.