The Ukrainian Department of Circumlocution Reigns Supreme

I am now back in the Carpathians at Y Tarasa, the small holiday complex where little Zorbee is stabled. The countryside is under two to three feet of snow, and it was topped up by another few inches last night.
I arrived on Wednesday, but was told that Nikolay Mihailovich the vet would not be able to see me until Thursday afternoon. But on Thursday I was then told that until the unfortunate Big Bolashak's body had been burnt and buried and Nikolay Mihailovich had signed the death certificate, he would not be able to complete the paperwork for little Zorbee's entry to the EU.
Some progress was made yesterday in that not only was the death certificate issued, but also the Hungarian isolation permission for little Zorbee to stay at the stables at Fonix Park near Mateszalka in Hungary.

So today I was hoping that once the EU documents had been completed, emailed to the Hungarian border vet service at Zahony, checked and OKed, I would be able to set off for Hungary with the horse.
But this is Ukraine, where nothing is ever straightforward as I discovered once again after waiting around for a couple of hours this morning. Firstly I was told that vets in Ukraine (or certainly not this part of Ukraine) do not work at the weekend for religious reasons. And secondly, although I was originally given 10 days to get the horses out of Ukraine and had to apply for an extension on medical grounds, apparently I now cannot leave here for Hungary without some sort of official permission. This cannot be sorted out until Monday. And of course I only have ten days from the issue of the medical results which I think was last Tuesday (but not sure!) to get the horse from Ukraine to Hungary.

So I must continue to kick my heels here. At least I have a very comfortable suite which even includes a jacuzzi, not that I intend making use of it! The room temperature was so tropical when I arrived that my butter melted and I had a restless first night's sleep, but I have now turned off the radiators and it is just beautifully cosy. I expect I will spend the weekend in my pad reading and drinking wine to drown my sorrows. I will probably give telly a miss as it is mainly limited to pop channels sporting scantily clad Ukrainian beauties writhing in hay barns and the like.

I would like to include a few photos, but in typical style I have forgotten the lead to download them from my camera.