It’s kind of cold here in Kafkaville at present (my car’s thermometer showed 7 degrees, which translates to ‘butt-cold’ in California terms), and it’s pretty obvious now that the three-week stretch of Indian Summer, or as the Czechs call it, ‘BabÃ leto’ (false summer) is now coming to a close. I don’t know what Indians or babiÄky have to do with the onset of winter, but vatevr.
It’s getting cold. Cold enough to leave drinks out on the balcony again.
Looking out of my office’s window today, though, I saw an unexpected sight: a dead duck hanging from its feet from the windowsill of the apartment building across the street. It hasn’t been dressed yet, so I guess the people in the apartment are leaving it out until they get around to doing the dressing. That’s another oddity, what ‘dressing’ has to do with the fact that you’re actually undressing a bird isn’t clear to me either.
As I looked out at the duck, I wondered if it’d be the last one I’d see for a while, what with the impending onslaught of H5N1 and all.
A little while later, my colleague brought in a postcard announcing what may be a truly short-lived endeavor: Perpetuum Prague Duck Restaurant. the proprietors of Perpetuum Prague Duck Restaurant also run the excellent ÄŒervenÃ¡ Tabulka, I can only wonder how long they can continue; when bird flu hit in Asia in 2004, even KFC had to switch to fish.