Well I finally arrived in Uherske Hradiste for the wedding. No thanks to Deutsche Bahn. Quite why I was persuaded to take the train, rather than my Lear jet, lord knows. Oh yes, that's right, I had to flog the Lear due to a temporary financial, er, hiccup.
Anyone who complains about the railways in Blighty should try German and Czech chuffers. Talk about ein koch-up! Wrong trains arriving at the right platform. Right trains arriving at the wrong platform. And my luxury compartment with ensuite for the Brussels-Berlin overnight didn't arrive at all! So I was accommodated in a wardrobe that would have made Tom Thumb claustrophobic. And instead of a shower and WC, there was a washbasin which would have given a finger bowl delusions of Olympic swimming pool grandeur. You'll be pleased to hear, though, that even given these restraints I did not resort to the English manner of relieving myself when nature called at 4am.
My previously shiny opinion of German railway efficiency must have been gleaned from documentaries about the pre-war period, when that twat with the toothbrush 'tache was in charge, and everything ran like clockwork. Not that the Czech railways are any better. Chock full, slow and filthy. Even their shiny, new, super-duper Italian Pendolinos were delivered with a software fault which means they have to stop at every other station for a CD upload. Not for nothing does Fiat stand for Fix It Again Tony.
Never mind, the hotel's very, um, hygienic...
And it's been snowing!