#MyHiddenTreasureChest, a weekend in Budapest

We’re here for Chandler’s thirtieth birthday. He’s been given a big gaudy birthday badge and he isn’t shy about tapping it and issuing birthday commands. His first? Everyone must order a full litre of the local beer, Dreher at lunch. This, plus a Weiner schnitzel the size of birthday boy’s face apiece, costs each of us about 3000 Hungarian forent, the equivalent of less than ten quid. It’s a revelation. After being persistent paupers in London, we feel like emporers in Hungary.

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Halos etc.

Angel Islington is one of the pretty pale blue properties on the Monopoly Board. It’s nestled in near Euston Rd, Pentonville Rd, Kings Cross Station, Chance and Jail. For years I idly wondered, whenever I landed on this cheap little property, what angels had to do with it. These were the days before Google, obviously.

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Gap minded.

It was this little realisation, made at freezing cold Paddington station as Sunday’s sun gave up on its feeble attempt to warm the day, that threatened to evoke my first panic attack. And it’s the equally little things that are helping to settle my jiggling ‘what have I done’ anxiety.

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