Yesterday we went to Kutna Hora, a place that is either sixty minutes or two and three quarter hours from Prague. Kutna Hora was once a particularly wealthy city that made its money from the silver mines in the district – the name translates as Silver Town. For some time it competed with Prague politically and economically – but then the silver ran out. To get there we took the express train to Kolin (I quite like towns that just have a boy’s name – a town called Trevor would be even better) then a small rail motor to Kutna Hora.

Most visitors go there for two things – the UNESCO listed city centre, or to see what Margie’s people did in the Sedlec Chapel when they had between 40,000 and 70,000 skeletons to play with.

When someone in Rosewood died we either buried them or cremated them, put up a plaque and that was it. The leftovers were left alone. When Myrl was asked if she wanted my father’s ashes sprinkled around the farm she rejected that immediately because she ‘couldn’t stand the thought of getting Ted all over her washing on a windy day.’ As far as I know even the Catholic parishioners in Rosewood left their forebear’s bits in the ground – I sure Brad Robinson would have told me if Father Brown was a bone arranger. Not in Kutna Hora – not on your Nellie.

The cemetery was always popular as a burial site as the first priest in the 11th Century had returned from Golgotha with some soil that he sprinkled about. The various plagues and the Hussite wars added more raw materials. Then in the 19th Century someone from the ruling House of Schwarzenberg had an absolute cracker of an idea – why don’t we dig up all those bones and do something with them? 

Their go-to-guy for this commission was a woodcutter called František Rint – and what Frank lacked in taste he made up for with ardour. Frank made candelabras and hat racks out of bones. He fashioned the Schwartzenberg coat of arms out of bones. He put bones around mirrors, around doors, in the ceiling, the walls, and floors. He made bible verses out of small bones and four model churches out of hundreds of thousands of longer bones. And when he finished he signed his name – in bones. Frank made the set designers for ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ look like restrained minimalists. It is all supposed to demonstrate the ephemeral nature of human being’s earthly existence. It also shows what happens when no-one in the Scwarzenberg family says to their obsessive-compulsive woodcutter turned ossuary attendant – ‘That’s quite enough now Frank.’

 After that experience it was just the normal wandering through a Renaissance town with lunch in a 400yr old building until it was time to return home.

The homeward journey was full of surprises. The lady in the ticket office at the station is actually the last remaining Nazi official in the Czech republic from the time of the German occupation. She insisted that the train we get on would go express to Prague. Under no circumstances were we to disembark. The tiny rail motor we got on didn’t even go express to Kolin – ten minutes away. There we were all ordered off and told to catch the afternoon express to Prague. At least it was express between all the stops. The return train trip took nearly three hours.

My darling children, as your dear Mother and I wander around Europe we are comforted knowing how wonderful must it be demonstrating your kindness and patience toward each-other as you toil ceaselessly cleaning and tidying our house. And even though I may never understand the people of the Central European plains, they have given me an idea as a way for us to remember Charlie when she finally goes to dog heaven!
Perhaps Margie will help with the arranging.

Best let you go

F C-S

   
          

The Kutna Hora ‘Express’ to Prague