Kassai Dreams

The apartment block on Frankel Leo Street where I spent my childhood summers, just a minutes walk from the Danube, was in the heart of a very old district of Budapest.

I used to be awakened each morning by the milkman's noisy cart on the cobbled street and look down on the early morning life below. I can still recall the smell from the bakery shop as the baker pulled the shutters up to open for the day's business.

My bedroom window was very high up and I could see far beyond the rooftops of the neighbouring houses as the sun was coming up and Budapest slowly awakened.

I can still hear the echo of my voice in the rounded courtyard as I greeted the old ladies sitting opposite the steps to our apartment and would make myself comfortable on the side of the big old staircase and peep through the railings.

Sometimes on a nice warm day I would sit there for hours looking down below and wondering about the people coming and going.

This grand, very old-fashioned apartment was big, dark and full of old furniture and was like a never-ending source of discovery. I remember exploring it, trying to climb on furniture which was too high and looking inside dark wardrobes playing hide and seek with imaginary friends.

The heavy curtains and the old rug in the middle of the sitting room soaked in the warmth of the sun coming in through the windows. I sat on the canapé and looked around relieved as the room became friendly and familiar in the increasing light.

This place doesn't exist anymore, the furniture in it, the endless games of hide and seek are all a memory. The old aunt who owned it has died and it has been sold on and modernised.

Now when I revisit the street where the old apartment block and courtyard stands I am filled with warm memories but sadness too and think of the happy times I had there.