Beautiful Budapest and brain scrambling NHS stats (From East London and West Essex Guardian Series)

Beautiful Budapest and brain scrambling NHS stats

2:10pm Friday 27th June 2008

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I've only been back from holiday for three days and already my brain is on the point of disintegrating into a quivering pool of mush inside my skull. It might or might not have something to do with the fact that my week actually started on Tuesday after Monday's "welcome" day in Watford. I've been in a bit of a time warp since then, especially as I was so tired on Monday that I barely noticed what was going on.

Budapest, on the other hand, was glorious. The weather was absolutely perfect - hot and sunny, but not unbearable and nary a hint of the greyness that seems to lurk in London most of the time. Of course, I can now no longer afford to eat, but it was worth it. The city is so beautiful and so different from London. No one ever seems to be in a hurry and no one ever tries to wrestle you out of the way for a seat on the very reliable public transport system. Neither are there heaving crowds in the city centre, nor suited-and-booted types trampling over you at every turn. Even its souvenir shops manage to outdo those in London, selling mainly local crafts, rather than Che Guevara pin badges and suchlike. Much though the Argentine revoluntionary's image may do for sales of such badges, I can't help but wonder how many of the teenagers sporting them actually know who he is. But I digress.

Now that I'm back, however, my nose has been straight back to the grindstone. I spent the greater portion of yesterday trying to interpret statistics from the Health Protection Agency until I was ready to curl up into the foetal position and weep. Luckily, I managed to restrain myself until I finally got through to a press officer. She did explain where to find the relevant percentages in the vast sea of facts and figures I'd been trawling through, but sadly, the damage to my psyche had already been done.

Today, fortunately, has been devoid of such pain, but the mushy-mindedness is difficult to reverse with any great speed. There's just something about spreadsheets that makes my head hurt. It is, of course, all grist for my mill, I'm sure. No doubt, it will make me a much better journalist in the long run and my brain is not irrevocably broken but for the present time, I think I have earned a little time off from statistics and data sets.

I need another holiday...