Alexander Lambton

Age 13
S2, Peebles High School, Scottish Borders

Band Escapades

This is a short extract from the diary I kept during a stay in Hungary.
 

On Saturday 30th April the Kecskeméti Ifusági Fuvólo Zenékor in all its red-suited glory set out in a Cold War era bus that shuddered along unwillingly. The seats were like those of an old tractor, ripped and scarred, with bits of foam bursting through the leather. After 50 minutes we arrived in Kúnbaracs, a small, obscure Hungarian village. Our purpose there was to play at the opening of the village library.

We tumbled out of the bus with music and instruments and got ourselves into some sort of order outside. We assembled in the bus stop, which I thought would make a perfectly good band stand. I said as much to my friend next to me. He replied that we were not going to play in a bus stop but in the middle of the road. Sure enough five minutes later we were ordering ourselves into a military style formation in the middle of the road when a lorry and a police car came tearing towards us. I thought it was an accident and we would have to dive off the road. However the police car screeched to a halt, performed a rather complicated nine point turn, and after much huffing and puffing saw off the lorry. Then it switched on its blue lights and started moving at a snail’s pace down the road. Someone whispered, ‘Just start with your left foot.’

János, the conductor, had swapped his baton for a large stick that vaguely resembled a Venetian gondolier’s pole with an abundance of ornamentation. I put two and two together with the police car and the baton and came up with an infinite sinking feeling. WE WERE GOING TO MARCH DOWN THE ROAD.

So I found myself thumping down the road trying to read the music that was bobbing up and down on the clarinet next to me while playing Hungarian inulok or marches. We did a complete circuit of the town, then filed into a small village green and waited in front of a small building for what seemed like hours, and probably were hours, while three speeches were made, all presumably about this new library.

The library in question was a small west-of-Scotland-style cottage with a very flashy sign saying ‘Library’ and another flashy sign saying ‘Internet available here’. The ceremony continued as the musical children of Kúnbaracs played simple duets on a keyboard and someone sang a well-known Hungarian folk song. A choir of old-age pensioners then sang a very interesting Hungarian folksong which the whole ceremony could have done without. Next on stage was a trio of recorders playing some more folk tunes.

Then came the presentation of the plates. Once you have been in Hungary for more than five minutes you will realise that they are mad about plates. They have them everywhere, with the national emblem or just simple roses emblazoned round the edge, usually with ornate messages inscribed. You name it – they’ve got it. This presentation took much longer than necessary. A gilded plate was handed over, inscribed with something like ‘The Kúnbaracs Library. May providence be with her and all who read in her’. A second one was handed over, probably saying, ‘To the librarian of Kúnbaracs’ very splendid and worthwhile library. 28th April 2006. May pork fat and palinka be with you always in plentiful supplies’. Next came the cups, chalk pots and pencil holders. Finally it was our cue. We played one of Hungary’s many national anthems then we all retired quickly into the nearest pub. We had a pool championship at which I was beaten hollow, then we went off for lunch, which happened to be a fair of some kind, with quad bike, alpacas and – something Hungarian events are never without – gulyás.

We were all given a free bowl of soup with potatoes or pasta and sat down in a very badly set up marquee which wasn’t secured properly so when there was a strong gust of wind the whole structure rose to an angle of 180 degrees. After lunch we played again on a special bandstand that was made out of the trunk of a huge tree. At about 2pm we piled onto the bus and sped off home.

The following Monday (May 1st – therefore a holiday) I had to get up at an EXCRUCIATING 5.45am to get to my band rehearsal place by 6.15am for reasons yet unknown. When we arrived we donned our red suits and then I asked Viktor (a trumpet player who speaks English really well) what the hell we were doing up in the half-light with very loud instruments on a national holiday. He replied:

‘Ah. Yes. We are going to play outside people’s houses and they will give us food and drink for it.’

I suddenly had a vision of us playing outside people’s houses and the occupants throwing bottles and scones at us to make us go away.

At about seven the bus came for us and we piled on board with a bass drum perched precariously on the luggage rack over my head. By then I had ascertained that the people we were playing for were important and influential people around Kecskemét and that the whole thing had been prearranged. I was slightly disappointed to let go of my vision of bleary people stumbling out of bed to give, or throw, beer at us.

Our first port of call was the home of the editor-in-chief of the local newspaper. We played a couple of tunes and then they came out and applauded. By now it was about 7.10am. His wife brought out huge quantities of scones and… palinka – a local, very strong fruit brandy. Half of us took palinka and half of us refused. Next, to our relief, they brought out orange juice.

The person next on the list was the head of KTV (Kecskemét Television). After our early serenade, their child came out carrying a large tray of drinks and said, pointing to each group in turn, ‘Szúlú (grape), náráncs (orange), palinka, Unicum (a liqueur that looks like Marmite and has the consistency of Bailey’s Irish Cream).’

We visited lots of other people who were equally generous. The chief inspector of police gave us five bottles of whisky. The last, however, was the best. After we had played we were ushered into a large courtyard with a huge table of meats – sausages, salami, bacon, ham; also bread, crisps, chips and a huge gulyás pot over a barbeque. To drink there was everything from Cabernet Sauvignon to Stella Artois to palinka to Fanta to Irish Liqueur. We all stuffed ourselves for ages, including the camera crew of KTV who had been with us, annoyingly, every step of the way. They even filmed me falling out of the bus with a music stand.

We said thank you very much to our hosts once we had eaten our fill, then all went our separate ways. Dad came and picked me up about 9.30am and when I got home my sister hadn’t even got out of bed.