In the interests of balance, I returned to That Bakery and again attempted to buy my five bread rolls, just to see what would happen.
Thanks to the readers of this blog, I now know that I should have asked for ‘pět housek’ rather than ‘pět housky’. Whether it was my inability to decline the genitive plural correctly which so upset Pani Grumpyová we’ll never know: she wasn’t there.
Instead I was served by a curly-haired elderly lady. I did have to repeat my request but was prompted to do so by a polite ‘Prosím?’ rather than the Martian-shaped-piece-of excrement-identifying stare I’d endured on the previous occasion. I even got a smile as I handed over the correct money in small change.
I would just like to take this opportunity to thank all the readers of this blog who have supported me through Houskygate. As I’m sure you can imagine, this event was enormously traumatic for me and I’m still dealing with the emotional fallout. Indeed, I think I may only overcome the deep scars by undergoing a lengthy course of psychotherapy. Either that or as one of you advised, I could just stop speaking Czech in public altogether.
My thoughts on Czech fashion are coming soon. Unfortunately my delicate English constitution has fallen prey to the super strong Czech cold germs and winter hasn’t even started yet. Czechman’s mum has prescribed bed rest, warm socks and lots of hot teas; I know better than to disobey her…