Beschreibung:

A manÆs black cotton apron from MezÛkÛvesd, with deep band of silk embroidered flowers in yellow, white, reds and green, and a deep black fringe at the hem, 94cm long x 68cm at the widest point, (EE-54). Worn by young men and bridegrooms. See Fel and Hofer, Hungarian Peasant Art ill.121, and an embroidered panel, probably part of a manÆs apron, with a long blue, red, green and copper floss silk fringe, and matyo flower heads in red and copper, 21cm x 34.5cm excluding fringe, (EE-55). See Embroidered Textiles, p. 99, 219 æIn 1970 Leslie and I went to a mining conference at La Manga in Spain. Quite unexpectedly, we bumped into our best man, Al Giesecke from South West Africa (now Namibia) , then living in Honduras. Also a number of old college friends of LeslieÆs. So when I saw a man I recognized, I waved to him but as he came over I realized I didnÆt know him at all - he just looked like Richard Burton In my embarrassment, I dropped my programme, which he picked up. Leslie came rushing over. His name was Balint Balkay and he invited Leslie to Hungary to look at the mining situation there, and Leslie came back saying we should have our next family holiday there. We set off in our Ford Zephyr - a dreadful car but the only one at that time that seated six people. It was forever breaking down, but the Hungarian car mechanics would look at it lovingly, having never seen a car like it. Balint was a Member of the Hungarian Academy and had a brilliant mind. As an academic under the communist system, he and his family were only allowed a one-roomed flat. His wife, Marta, worked in the UNESCO library in Budapest and they had three children - Frushka (who spoke a little French), Hanna and Wartskaw - and a dog, Whisky. They were all cooped up together and it was school holiday time, so I offered to take the children with us. Balint had found us a house on Lake Balaton and the family had moved out for us, except the old granny who stayed. I looked after seven children. The only place to cook was on our camping stove (one flame) on the floor and the granny loved to keep coming and telling me about her operations, though I spoke no Hungarian. There was virtually no food and I would have to get up at five to start queueing at the one local shop. One day I managed to get some butter, but mostly there was only bread and red peppers, which we ate raw, baked, preserved in oil, bottled, sliced in tins - in five different forms as our only meal I remember counting once. There were big greasy doughnuts on sale by the lake - langosh, I think they were called - and they were a real treat. We had a great time and IÆm glad to have seen it all before it opened to the West. IÆm sure it was on that occasion that we went to a country market near Pecs, and Balint came with us. There were old embroideries laid out on the ground and they were cheap, but I didnÆt like to buy many as Balint and his family were so poor. After Leslie was killed in the DC10 aircrash in March 1974, I went back to Hungary in 1975. Balint died some time before the fall of communism and, as far as he could see, it was entrenched for ever.Æ