9/11 Remembered

I was in Washington DC for a conference for the Society of Gilders. It was early and I went for a walk, the most beautiful day. But hordes of people were walking quickly over the bridge, towards me, away from the centre. And I could see smoke in the distance, from the Pentagon.
Some of the delegates were from N.Y. We carried on with the conference, but the New Yorkers in particular were very uneasy. With good reason.

So Easy Not to Care
A couple of times an obliging friend sent me special updates on the The Archers (for those outside the UK it is a daily radio soap about country folk). I have long been a fan and will continue, once back in the UK. We agreed on who really got on our nerves and almost agreed on who we thought was ok. I nearly said who was cool, but who could be cool on The Archers? Then we both forgot. I don’t care.

But the news: desperate refugees on our shores, Chinese human rights lawyers in fear of their lives…. ghastly, very real stuff. Now I do care.

Family visit to the aged p's

This last weekend, a trio of blokes visited my poor abandoned parents, Henry and Erica. My son Laurie, and grandson Grischa, 6, travelled from Germany, while Laurie’s father, Peter, came up from Dorset. I was sorry not to have been there to play hostess but they appear to have had a great time and managed very well without me clucking around.

Grischa and Grandpa

Haircut and the most gorgeous pedicure in the world

I managed to get a very good haircut in Stopnica, to my huge amazement. I was dreading it as I hadn’t seen a decent haircut amongst all the local ladies.

But Stefan came home one day with a terrific trim (I usually do it) so, whoever did that will be fine. We walked into the Ladies/Gents parlour and were seen immediately. The grand cost was £7.50, for both.

This was shortly followed by a pedicure! I wasn’t even sure I could get one here, but don’t underestimate the place; we have everything. I had to wait a whole week for an appointment though. Shock, horror. In London you just walk in. Here there are only 2 ladies working and a lot of feet to do. Maybe the fact that the session took an hour and a half had something to do with it, but just look what a beautiful job! Such tender loving care and an amazing Rolls Royce coach finish.  Definitely to be recommended. Both establishments, by the way, are in the main market square, 6 minutes walk from the house.

Note the shine!

This new life.

Not just the language, the country, but the new family, with all their little ways. Who needs The Archers when we have them?

Recently, Stef took a decision regarding the joint property, which wasn’t his to take. This considerably upset his his close relative, Nog, but as is the way his wife, Suz, took over and war was declared. She runs the house and she runs Nog. Apparently I was deemed the culprit as I am the manager (!). That looks like a drop of projection to me. However, after over a week of freeze, as I write there may be signs of a thaw, but I won’t hold my breath. 

This happened once before. At a barbeque at their house, Suz suddenly exploded at Stefan with something about us not bringing bread (despite supplying all the meat, but who’s counting). it turns out I had massively offended her. In conversation with her, at her house a couple of days earlier, in my execrable Polish, apparently I said something not right. I never found out what it was.

So as the newbie I guess this is my role?  Interesting. Now it has happened a couple of times I can get used to it and not take it too seriously, and yet I am a bit upset about it. Previously she was popping in, and even walking into the bedroom where I was resting…. What’s going on? she chirps.  Not very British, but that's ok.

I remember walking a long distance and popping in to a ‘friend’ in Barnes (London) with my two little boys, unannounced. I was alone and felt like adult company. We had met having our babies in the hospital and made friends, I thought. But the reception was so cool I never forgot it. Never heard from her again.  You just don’t do that in London, apparently.

Here, we have people walking in all the time. I am fine with that (I have learned now to keep covered at all times). Suz likes to check in as Nog and their son, Blog, are working for us. She wants to see what’s going on; after all, she is the manager.  She and I have coffee and cake and it is nice.

But now it is wartime and she doesn’t come.  And with cousin next door but one away on hols, it is rather quiet. Nog is working, but doesn't chat. And do I care? Yes, I do. The row has upset me. I want it to be over.

So there we have it.  Feast or famine, that’s how it is.

So now, dear reader, you have your very own ‘everyday story of country folk’. 
Note, all names, except Stefan have been changed.

Reflection time

One night, after our first guests had gone, Stef and I sat in our living room, with fire blazing, low lights and a cup of tea. We have a couch and a rug, (former brand new, latter like half our stuff, from our local, UK, fleamarket) and congratulated ourselves. We have a house!  

Renovations, including 2-bed house next door and furnishings so far have cost one-fifth of a 2-bed flat in South west London, with no garden.

And, you see, we were sitting in the area of the house that was Stefan’s childhood home. His whole house fitted into what is now our living room, laundry room and poncy wet room. Everything else: upstairs, now our bedroom with en-suite; kitchen/ dining room; spare room, downstairs toilet and entrance, is added on.

Stefan won’t mind me saying his father was not a good provider. Their family circumstances might have been a lot better. The family of five lived in what is now our living room.  Later, Stefan’s brother and their two children and Stefan’s father lived in the house. Father slept in the kitchen, now our laundry room. Stefan’s’ mother died of cancer, at fifty-two.

Stefans house was to the right of the stairs.

The door is roughly where the stairs are, in upper pic. Note, this room is unfinished

A lovely drop of gilding

We needed to go to Warsaw this week so for the first time for many months (knee business prevented me) I actually managed to see some sights. Stefan took me to the one palace that sustained no damage in the war. Built along with all the great European palaces, Blenheim, Belvedere, Schönbrunn etc. it is really rather splendid. We only got around half of it, I was exhausted. But in the Queens’ bedroom I saw some of the best gilding ever, a picture frame and a sofa, in particular. I have no idea when the work was done, but the gilding was superb with no shrinkage at all, except for the finest cracquelure along the lengths of both objects where the wood had shrunk. This couldn’t have been imitated, (I think) though the effect is often is attempted. And the burnish against the matt was so sophisticated, beautiful and mellow. A joy.

Next week, Finally, prepare to return to London, and Archers update.