Well, I’m now officially back in the Romanian capital of Bucharest – having taken the very scenic route, over many hours, via a series of B-list historical sites and several optimistic stretches of dirt road. All this, apparently, in the grand service of visiting Curtea de Argeș, a sixteenth-century Romanian Orthodox church famed for its intricate Moorish and Byzantine-inspired architecture.

Which, when we finally rocked up, was almost entirely hidden behind scaffolding.

I asked Alex-RO, in as neutral tones as I could muster, whether he’d known in advance that the church was under renovation. “Yes,” he replied, in his usual monotone, “but it was still on The Schedule.”

Reader, I could have cheerfully swung for him at this point. This cannot be normal behaviour, right? This is straight-up pathological. Or am I simply being systematically gaslit here, one absurd detour at a time?

I mean, what kind of a man forces a group – especially a group of one – on a multi-hour, dirt road detour to view what was, in essence, an ecclesiastical building site? With no warning. No heads-up. No alternative offered. Nope. It was on The Schedule – the holy, immutable, motherfucking Schedule – and so that was bloody that. I swear, if the place had been nuked overnight, he’d still have insisted on pointing out where the church was once situated within the blast zone.

Grrrrrr. Rant over (for now at least!). At least the long car journey was scenic, and also proved an opportunity to surface up some more of Diana’s, let’s say, “unconventional beliefs.” In addition to being a proud iridologist (the belief that eye colour determines personality / physiognomy), she also attributes autism to “too much phone time,” is a devout anti-vaxxer, and firmly believes that “too much education is bad for women” – causing wrinkles and madness, apparently. Reminds me of this Harry Enfield classic from back in the day!*

Anyhoo, by the time we crawled back into Bucharest after nearly seven hours on the road, I was pretty much hanging on by a thread. Unfortunately, this was the precise moment Alex-RO happened to suffer a major glitch in his navigational system, driving us through gridlocked traffic across the entire city – only to realise when we got there that he’d brought us to the wrong hotel. It took best part of another hour to get where we needed to be again – by which point my reserves of patience were running dangerously low.

Still, when we finally pulled up – at the correct hotel this time – I did what any self-respecting Brit would do after experiencing many hours, if not days, of barely restrained fury: I swallowed down my rage, adopted a outward stance of performative politeness, smiled through gritted teeth and thanked them both graciously for the trip. And then – social niceties fully observed – I then immediately hit the bar for a very stiff drink in order to celebrate my newfound freedom. To independence. To solitude. And to never, ever having to see either of these two outlandish individuals ever a-bloody-gain.

The next day I had all to myself in Bucharest, but gave the galleries and museums a swerve in favour of a different kind of cultural immersion altogether – with a visit to Therme Bucharest, Europe’s largest wellness and relaxation centre. Think thermal pools, outdoor beach, swim-up bars, multiple saunas and steam rooms, and body treatments galore.

Now this was far more my scene! I spent almost the entire day here in blissful anonymity – having a swim, chatting to people at the swim-up bar and treating myself to a well-deserved prosecco lunch. No massages available on the day sadly – but no matter. It was still the most peace I’d had in days.

No human audio guide. No conspiracy theories. No kooky new age beliefs. No one trying to teach me bloody anything. Not the most culturally enriching part of the trip, maybe – but unquestionably one of the most enjoyable!

No schedule. No glitches. No robot. Bliss!

* These are idiosyncratic Diana beliefs, rather than widely-held Romanian ones, btw. All the Romanian women I know are highly educated, scientifically minded and see eye colour as nothing more than a genetically inherited aesthetic trait.