"The Truculent Horse knew, as soon as she stepped into the Chopin apartment that cold winter’s night, that they had found the perfect home in Kraków. Princess Rhiannon would be pleased. Although the horse spent the first night here alone, her surroundings were so comfortable, relaxing and perfect in every way that, after a hot bath, she slept as soundly as though she were in her own stable at home in the royal palace. The next day when she awoke and eagerly drew open the blinds, the snowy rooftops of Kraków and St Florian’s Gate gleamed before her sleepy eyes. Throwing open the windows she leaned out into the foggy November air (perhaps she would catch sight of Princess Rhiannon alighting from a taxi) and saw the art sellers beginning to set up their galleries on the street below.
Wandering at leisure around the spacious warm apartment and sitting down to a cup of tea she already felt as though she had lived here for months and Princess Rhiannon, whenever she arrived, would merely be a visitor to her home. The Horse decided to go out to the local shop to get her breakfast. Just around the corner she found everything she needed – bread, cheese, fruit, yoghurt and beer. The Princess would be delighted. The Princess was late, very late, but the Horse didn’t worry. She felt right at home, trotting in and out of her apartment, lounging on the couch and making endless cups of tea.
Then, just as she had given up all hope, she saw the Princess out on the balcony stumbling along with her enormous rucksack. They were reunited at last!
For the next four days the Horse and her Princess gallivanted around the old town, frolicking and sparkling in the snowy streets under the stars, sheltering from the blizzard in warm candle-lit cellar bars over beers, making new friends and dancing their little hearts out, but always knowing, at the end of every long and busy day, that their warm and inviting apartment was quietly waiting nearby. There they could always return, for a snooze in the enormous bed, a hot bath, a long and lazy breakfast or just to sit, drink a vodka and discuss the day’s events.
At the end of their sojourn in Poland even the Princess, with her impossibly high standards, had to agree that the apartment was perfect in every way. Well, practically perfect. As the Truculent Horse sadly turned the key in the lock for the last time the Princess announced “You must tell them, my little horse, when you write the review, that we need a long mirror for next time, so that I can see how beautiful I look before I go out”. The Truculent Horse just snorted.
" | Eavan
Ireland
Dec.21.2005
Overall rating 5/5 |
