They pee in Budapest too or Wilkipeedhere.

As the lyrics of the George Ezra sing tell us

"My house in Budapest

My hidden treasure chest,

My Golden water closet

My beautiful deposit

You-oooo

You-oooo

I'd leave it all"

Going to the toilet is a serious business in Budapest, at least that's what I've determined judging by the array of water closets I saw while staying there this summer.


Here is my most trusted and well used friend, I flushed this pan two or three times a night, (if that's a lot blame my prostate) also three or four times a day at meal times, nap time and times when it was just to hot to be outside.

Budapest is a city on the move, from former communist bloc to capitalist land of opportunity. So there are lots and lots of modern conveniences, but every now and then you find a gem of an old fashion flusher. This one adorned the public toilets at the Budapest Keleti railway station, and it only cost me 100 Forints.

Ahhh, who amongst us can ever forget the Labrynth of Buda Castle, well most of you since you've never been there. Atmosphere, intrigue, history and loads and loads of steps. No trip to the Labrynth would be complete without a trip to the smallest cave of them all.

Of course the castle of Buda is a grand and majestic place, I could only imagine the grandness of the conveniences, the splendour, the magnificence. Well, actually it was all rather dull, sigh.

But I did find quirky and whimsical. It was in a restaurant called the Drum Cafe. It left you with no doubt which gender was to visit which door.

And so it went on and on, hot days, liquid refreshments, have to pee, rest in the apartment, have a drink, need to pee, And so without further narrative here's the rest.

My life in numbers.

Fillings: 2 Yes you read that right, two and all my teeth currently in place and reasonably white.

Grey hairs: 3 Yep, right again. I'm 54 and I have three grey hairs. Admittedly I plucked out rogue early insurgents for a couple of years but have given up the futile fight and embraced the grey, I shouldn't have worried, I can live with a grey hair count of 3.

Height: 5ft 10 inches. Down from a high of 5ft 11and a half inches. Where did my inch and a half go? I k ow what I was at 18 when I was measured for my missionary service, I'm shrinking, If I live to be a hundred I'll be shorter than Debra.

Hours sleep each night: 5 hours 30 minutes. Thanks to a Fitbit I now know my sleep patterns are rubbish, once I could sleep for 7 hours and that was great, given free range I'd sleep for 10 hours, now an aching back, stress from work and a kicky wife have all combined to reduce my minute count to 330 minutes. Hurumph.

Vision: 20/40 and falling. I have glasses. I'm ok with that, in fact sometimes I think they make me look sophisticated other times I look a nerd.

Waist: 38 inches. Not so good. Gone are my 30 inch around the middle days. I had lost some weight but not any more, I pulled out all my trousers from 2012, they fit again. Good times.

Creases, lines and furrowed brows: 200 (approximately) no amount of moisturising in my forties made any difference, I am a slave to genetics, and creased up old faces is a family thing.

Sperm count: 15 million per millilitre. Ok, a bit of poetic licence here it has been many years since my healthy 25 million per millilitre count containing many with broken and twisted tales so I've extrapolated the data and reduced. I've still got it though, I could beat Charlie Chaplin's record yet.

Years alive: Infinity. I expect you wondered how I was going to finish this blog, well here you go. I have always existed in some form, matter unorganised and I will go on In some way for the rest of eternity, crumpled face, rotund belly getting shorter and shorter, forever and ever amen.