One last bbq

Of the Referendum I can only say the way it went was more than disappointing. Along with so many friends, some of whom have written from the US and other places to ask, perfectly reasonably… what on earth have you guys done?  Good question.  This story will run and run.

 

On the eve of our return to cool London I am sweating in 35 deg. heat.  Summers here are as extreme as the winters and I shall just have to get used to it.

We have been here 6 days, plus travelling, and as usual Stefan has been a Goliath and achieved masses.  Guest house is moving right along; he has tiled most of the floor which suddenly transforms the whole place, as well as cooling it down in this horrendous heat. He only did not complete because the store ran out of supply. A mammoth trip to Ikea sorted more furniture, including a kitchen for next door. We bought a mattress for one of the pair of old fashioned beds Stefan found at our local London market, and he assembled it to accommodate the extra 3cm it required. 

 

Front garden with hollyhocks

My job was to sort the dozens of moving boxes, dig out anything necessary (precious little) and rationalize somehow. Happily, though the house is not big, we have SHEDS, which help relieve pressure.

 

From inside kitchen

My big question is this: what do people do with their unwanted stuff? S has not been able to enlighten me. Where are the charity shops?  They have to be somewhere. Once I have answered this question, I will be their biggest contributor. I can’t wait to unload some of the zillion shirts, and the rest.

I have prepared Henry’s room and I think I have thought of everything he might need.  I keep imagining him here sitting in the sun with a beer and with people dropping by (which they do constantly,) and having a thoroughly nice time. I am just keeping my fingers crossed it will all go according to plan. Watch this space.

Henry and Stefan in London

The idea of people dropping by is totally horrifying to some of my English friends. I see their point. And honestly I am not frantically keen, as I do like my own space and time. But, I also see it as a huge compliment that they want to see us and hang around. And after all, I do take off when I want to, and retreat to my room!  In addition, the support that this community gives each other is something quite new to me. Things get done, materials procured, people turn up. You are NOT on your own.  I have chosen that life rather than stay alone in London, and I am convinced it is an excellent choice.  And I am so grateful that Henry is up for coming too.  Imagine if he had said, no way….?

 

Supper ready

First pea crop

So, one last barbq tonight, then later tomorrow off on first leg to Poznan. Back by Tuesday. With 2 weeks in London to have family/friends visits, bureaucratic stuff to do, throwing out a LOT, finishing the house and readying for the 5 tenants.

Then I scoop up Henry and off we go on an airplane while Stefan will come by car, along with the cat.

Terribly, terribly exciting.  No more rushing to get stuff done before we have to leave. We will be here all the year round…..Yeah! 

If you have been, please keep on reading and see how it all goes.

Who Moves to a New Country at 97?

So my dad, at this age, with his 5 languages that do not include Polish, is up for moving with us to Poland. Who does that?  I am very impressed.

 

Hilarious situation with the builders. Found a Polish company who proceeded to send us a succession of assorted painters and decorators.  Be careful of what you wish for.

First guy, Wassily., Ukrainian, no English, though he has lived here 10 years. But has worked only with Polish, so can get by with that, mixed with Ukrainian. He started staying with us as the trip home to east London was too long. 2^nd week he brought a ton of Ukrainian food sent by his wife by the usual route: deposited with the bus driver and driven all the way to London.  So far we have had indifferent, communist era tough meat and gravy, but then a jar of fish in some sort of sauce that wife had prepared with the fish from their local streams! Really good. And what we call swonina which is pork fat, eaten widely in eastern Europe, with salt and garlic. Pretty damned good on fresh, crusty bread and a dose of alcohol. (I have got so quick at the bread now, and it is getting better and crustier all the time.)

2^nd guy is Romanian, Konstantin. He said he has no Polish or English, but he has Italian, and it turns out German, and after all a tiny bit of English.  So he and my dad can talk, though they don’t as one is working (or having a fag and talking on the phone) and the other either eating or sleeping.   It turns out he is skilled at nothing and Stefan has to show him everything so he has now had the boot.

The house turning Magnolia

New boiler in garden

The hall turning white

Half done room

Where I was panicking with the thought that we have ONLY a month, fact is it will all get done as there is not so much to do.  The time is going fast though.

The cat story:  I thought in my innocence you get your plane ticket, then you go to the any extras bit on the site and pop in ‘cat’. Immensely more complicated. And expensive. I wasn’t going to get much change from £1000 after I paid for her, changed my flight to suit her travel arrangements, arranged to pick her up, and the rest. If you want a really good income and don’t fancy the funeral trade, try the pet carrier trade. So after a few wasted hours we decided Stefan will fetch his brother from Stopnica for a few days  to help to finish off in the house and they can travel back in the car together. We will all leave at the same time.

We have tenants already. 5 students on placements took the house even in its incomplete state. The house is unusual in that it is wedge shaped. Some of the ceilings have rather beautiful curves instead of corners, which are a challenge to paper.  My dad was a set decorator in a former life and enjoyed patching together dark, patterned wallpaper all over the ceilings… wallpaper everywhere, all dark in tone. For that time it must have been quite cool, but now looks dated. And the house was filled with IKEA style chests of drawers, everywhere, so you were always bashing up against one of them; and bookshelves in every available cavity.  All gone.  All those books in up to 5 languages, gone.

Later

A real struggle to get the time to do the blog but what is happening is quite exciting and worth the effort to write about, even if it is hurried.  The house is FULL of builders, inside and out. We scurry like mice with armfuls of STUFF, dumping it all in one small back room as the advancing painter armies rattle their paintbrushes. Only one room is completely done, and we are sleeping in it.  Father being very patient but he too gets nervous when he hears their advances and needs reassurance. When we leave for 10 days he needs to be provided for with a bedroom, bathroom of sorts and a kitchen that is not full of stepladders and paintcans. And loads of food!

I was a bit concerned when I realized the colour I had chosen for the exterior is called Magnolia. But while we were in the paint shop I was on the phone listening to a guy who was outlining every detail of the new building insurance I am having to take out. Stefan showed me the colour card and all I could do was point. Had I known its name I would have been more careful!  This wasn’t B & Q, where their paint has names such as Natural Calico. Far more seductive.

However, Magnolia works.

So, countdown. Day after tomorrow we leave for 10 days to Poland. We leave nearly blind father alone with the cat and the builders. I hope he can manage to heat up the food and find himself enough drink.  But he refuses help and insists he will be fine. Poor guy is suffering so much from dizziness. So hard to walk, but he persists as he must keep moving. Not lots of fun.  Once we are back we have 2 weeks to finish up. Ship off the remainder and clean up.

Reading

Been hard to concentrate on the books I want to read as they are either in Polish or about Poland and need my brain.  As I was badly missing reading I got myself a couple of books from the charity shop which are very readable, as long as I can stay awake.  E.M. Delafield’s Diary of a Provincial Lady, which looks hilarious, and The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, Aimee Bender.  This last has rave reviews from the ‘better’ papers, and indeed is so far no struggle to read and promises well. How lovely to escape into a good book.