Letter from Prague | All stories

The setting is familiar, the viewing a mixture of pain and delight. Fifteen 'Chosen ones' live in a house for several weeks, isolated from the world and with nothing to amuse themselves with but internal squabbling and buffoonery. Every week, the housemates have a chance to gang up on one or two of their group who has fallen out of favour, and they vote him or her off. Fascinating isn't it?

Prague is very much a centre of culture and proud of the fact that its classical music festivals attract music lovers from around the world. The Prague Spring Music Festival is a highly prestigious international music event and the more recently established Prague Autumn Festival has likewise gained an excellent reputation. Usually concert goers leave with lasting impressions - and come back for more. But occasionally a note of discord creeps in.

I remember as a nervous eighteen-year-old being packed off to Oxford for my very first term with the reassurance of my parents that I couldn't be going at a better time - that autumn there was the fairest of the seasons. I remain institutionalized to such an extent that I still, some years on, associate the autumn with the start of the new school year. The leaves start falling and I sharpen my pencils, buck-up my ideas and dust-off my satchel... or something like that.

Back when I was in my early teens one of my favourite books was J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, which I must have read at least a dozen times. Along with more adventurous passages, one of my favourite chapters was "A Short Cut to Mushrooms" - in which the hobbits make their way across Farmer Maggot's fields and the greediness of hobbits' love of mushrooms is described. That description, I've always felt, would also fit well for mushroom lovers in the Czech Republic, including myself. Mushroom picking here has a long tradition and is something

On the rainy days of early September, when summer is just gone for another year and the bleak, cold months of winter are approaching, people dwell on darkest thoughts and their hearts sink into melancholy. But there is one region in the Czech Republic where locals look forward to the beginning of autumn more than any other time of the year.

Coming out of my house the other day, I noticed with horror that the horse chestnut tree in our street was heavy with spiky green balls. Not that there is anything strange about that. It's just that conkers always remind me autumn is here once again and I start thinking about all those things I wanted to do during the summer but somehow haven't found the time to do so.

When I last lived in Prague a couple of years ago, it was common to find, in the corner of each and every metro station, a stand for the free newspaper Metro. This stand would almost always be apologetically tucked away somewhere, and more often than not, quite empty of newspapers. But in my absence, it seems that free newspapers have launched a major offensive on this city.

Journalism has plenty of perks- free meals, free rides, meeting interesting people and "being where the action is" as they say. Some time ago I went to interview an elite team of fire-fighters - the kind who get sent on international aid missions abroad. Of course, when they are not serving on special missions they are simply members of the Prague 2 fire brigade who might get called to bring a frightened kitten down from a tree.

I regard myself as having quite a refined taste for food, but for me summer, at least the Czech one, is connected with a very basic, perhaps slightly lowbrow, taste, and that's the taste of a burt, a small thick sausage for grilling.

It has been a number of years now since Prague was first named as a favourite destination for weekend revellers intent on boozing: stag or hen parties celebrating a friend's last weekend of freedom, a chance to live it up. Such parties are now fairly common here and are showing no signs of letting up.