Fucking Wels…

Fucking Wels…

It’s October and that means one thing; Pumpkin season. Whereas the Americans and more recently the British have used this as an opportunity to put their craft skills to good use an make fire hazards, the Austrians have decided to do something a bit more sensible and eat them.

Pumpkins are big in Austria this month and in addition to every restaurant preparing a menu especially for October, front gardens and shop windows are adorned with displays of Pumpkins and their slightly less attractive relation, the Ugly Fruit, (which for those of you who don’t know is a small green or orange Pumpkin with warts on it.)

Today we are in Wels, a very small town that, if it wasn’t so quaint it would be a service station. We are staying in the Maxlhaid which was once a coach station and is now the only hotel in town. I say town, Wels comprises of the Maxlhaid, several houses guarded by wild dogs and few scattered factories. 

The Maxlhaid takes all the good and not so good from Milton Keynes and condenses into a guest house. The restaurant is full at lunch time with businessmen; no doubt staying in town to do business with the surrounding factories before the go back home to the slightly more interesting places where I am sure they all live.

One of the more bemusing things about the Maxlhaid is that the staff wear traditional Austrian dress. Rather then give the place the feel of a traditional Austrian hamlet, the fancy dress merely enforces the feeling that we are in a place so bland of life that the staff are force to wear funny outfits to make us believe we are in Austria. 

The staff are incredibly nice and the beer in incredibly good, this will get me through the night… but my goodness; get me the Wels outta here!

As CNN has got a little dull I have decided to go for a wander I have just encountered a Conker tree. Blow me! A conker tree… now this takes me back. I used to love playing conkers and grew up with my mum and Uncle filling me with stories of how they used to soak theirs in Vinegar or bake them to make the killer conker. Looking back less recently I remember one of my favourite nights at drama school where we had a Conker tournament. 

Despite smashing several glasses the night was more fun then any other. 

I got to work like a squirrel and I have collected a respectable hoard on conkers which I will share with my crew. I have sent the following message to the gang who are in the a service station:

Bring string and Vodka.

I have a plan for quite literally a

SMASHING NIGHT!!!

Two key things that I must remember throughout the evening:

It must not literally be a smashing night.

I must win