Sung by poets, lauded by bards, revered by the cognoscenti, Château Novak, a sun-kissed architectural jewel precariously perched on the verdant slopes overlooking the slothful Berounka, demurely awaits you. Higher than the ancient and austere fort of Křivoklat, lower than the Cool Bohemia icon that is Velka Bukovas' sleek observation tower, Château Novak is a pearl whose fragrant, multicoloured garden is its' delicious oyster - come, tease it delicately open, and discover the nacred treasures that demurely await you.

So it's like this, Guv: When the commies turned the local farms into one huge, polluting, hideous and inefficient collective unit (a kind of continental, agricultural NHS), they soon discovered that dispossessed farmers-turned-collective-farm employees did not share their enthusiasm for applied marxism, and thus had to build, from 1972 to 1977, Château Novak, ie a solid concrete box in your best Czech commie (then ODS, presently ANO) style - complete with the afferent charm- this in order to house the screws tasked (!) with dissuading the said ex-farmers from expressing their antisocial opinions.

It's a lovely building, an ode to budget-free concrete and to that social-realist lightness and subtility which makes the post-WWII Czech elite so endearing, whatever their political colour du jour, be it enthusiastic Nazi collaborator, faithful and brotherly Commie, pointy-booted ODS, or todays' ANO (ex-StB, the local KGB, minus a spine). And it's the building that my (very) dear wife, the Marchiesa, née Novak (the Czech "Smith" or "Brown"), decided to invest her uxorial savings into. Hence Château Novak. Come on in, y'all.