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.

Moving right along

Mother in the home

Mother is doing fine, perfectly happy as far as we can see.

The staff are great, very attentive.   

 Packing. 5 bed house, every room in a mess.  Boxes and boxes all stacked up. Some to take, some for Sally Army, some for friends, some for rubbish.  Will I remember which box goes where?

The house is an unusual triangular shape, with a wide rather 

glorious front garden, and this at the back. 

Back garden

We will try to make the best of it and turn it into a pleasant place to sunbathe, which Henry did for hours on end when he was a tour guide. Keeping up his tan and recovering from the stress, no doubt.

Getting decorators    

We have been calling in companies and individuals, wherever we can find them, to get quotes.  Finally a group of possibles are materializing and we are expecting them to begin shortly.  That means they will finish (stating the obvious) and that means we will move. There will be a day, not too long from now, when we will hand  keys to the agents to find tenants, say goodbye to mother, scoop up the cat and Henry, and go.  Of course the hardest bit will be for Henry, saying goodbye to his wife of 73 years. There is no way of telling her what is happening.

He has aged so much in the last 6 weeks.  Unsteady, clumsy, frail.  But his spirits are good and he is up for it.  Good for him.

My office, as was

 This whole thing has taken me by surprise. I thought it would be ages till we would do the house and all that entails. I assumed they would have died first… but it is happening now. It is a massive job, not only my stuff to sort but my parents!

I have gone through some of my mothers papers.

When she was 18 she came to London, as a refugee from Hitler. The British let her in as could do cleaning. If you were willing to do that, work in service, you could come. Even if you were qualified in your profession, you must go into service.  She was a qualified seamstress, trained at the leading Vienna fashion house, but hey, what does that count. Her own mother refused to leave Vienna, so her father left her there and went to Shanghai, where they didn’t care if you were Jewish. I found amongst mothers’ papers a couple of letters from her mother: very sweet and promising to be together soon. That didn’t happen, she was caught and sent first to a ghetto, then to a concentration camp. I didn’t know the letters existed, it was very sad to read them.  When we have a good opportunity I will show them to my grandchildren and explain to them what happened.

My son, Laurie, and his family are moving this summer too. He has been working as an interpreter in Bavaria, and now is moving to Geneva to work freelance for the UN.  He is beginning to get more interesting conference work and traveling quite a bit, but he goes to Egypt and soon will travel to Nigeria.  I don’t like that at all.  There is loads of security for these events, but how can I not be uneasy?

No more weeks like this, please

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In the Forest, 2004

This piece is to be installed at the Museum of the Gilded Arts, Pontiac, ILL., USA.

Great to find a home for it. 6’ x 6’ (2m x 2m.)

Here for spring, glorious

3 April. We arrived for our 3 weeks. The leaves were so small you could hardly see them.  Landscape definitely dull. By the time we left it was all gorgeous. 

Quince tree

 

First flowers

Erica’s Cacti and the garden

As long as I can remember my parents nurtured cacti.

They filled the wide window ledge, as the stairs turned, in our St George’s Square flat. My mother graduated to a greenhouse at Valonia Gardens, their first house, and she nursed these prickly things with extraordinary care. And they responded; they were marvelous, but I didn’t care for them. A childish reaction, no doubt. Clearing the house we badly need this cactus space, so most of them have been found homes. But a couple were rescued by Stefan and brought to Poland.  It was winter, though, and during our stopover in Poznan we forgot them and left them to freeze in the car. They sat on the window sill in Stopnica where one gave up the ghost.   When at last I bothered to look, I saw this one had not only survived, but is having babies. All my motherly instincts kicked in, and I am thrilled. Mother would be well pleased.

Facebook stuff

Stefan loves his family and he uses FB to keep in touch and in the loop. As my tiny family does not use it, I find it a bit pointless.  But I check in from time to time and I see what people are making, what competitions they have entered for and won, where they are going in their careers. Unlike public exhibitions, which get reviewed, FB seems to garner only positive responses, (I like you) so the temptation to display is understandable.  Not surprisingly this can stir up mixed feelings in someone who is not making work any more; no make, no show, no strokes. Fair enough.

Bit eccentric.

This house is definitely taking on a character. Stefan is finding a way to express himself. 

Front porch

Display on shed door

We had one of my London friends come to visit for a few days. Great success. Once people know we are there I think we will have many visitors. Certainly hope so, especially being able to house them next door. We all like our space.

Here, I lose Word, (I did something daft and moved it) so no more writing for several weeks.

The story so far: 

A week or two before leaving for a month away, I went to Balham, S. London, for the first time, for a Carers meeting of some sort. I have never been to Balham.  I left the motor bike in a side street, and coming back it was gone. I walked up and down adjacent streets but no sign. Bus back, report to police and wait.

Thence to Poland. We found a lovely Polish lady to live in and take care. She was happy.  We checked in from time to time but all was well, says she. Stefan had to do the talking as she had no English.

Thursday 28 April.

Arrive back around 5.  We did not find a person to come from Poland to live in to care for the parents.  Theresa pooped out; totally exhausted herself.  Mother’s dementia worse, so she needed really 2 people to care for her. T did it by herself. How, no-one knows.   Father terribly frail after 2 weeks in bed with flu.  T goes. Probably never to come to London EVER again.

Friday  Start of long Bank Holiday Weekend. Father starts to get up because to stay in bed, however lovely, will weaken him further. But back starts hurting and continues to be agony the whole long  weekend. Frequent hot water bottles and paracetamol, which make him very drowsy so doesn’t like to take them!

I am to be the 2^nd person for the carer for mother (since I don’t want to double the bill with 2 carers): this means up sharp at 7.15 to make her breakfast, tea for us, feed cat, help carer with supporting mother to stand while she is washed all over. Etc. Back starts to hurt. Repeat 12 sharp for lunch, which must be prepared and ready; repeat 5 sharp for dinner. Every day.

Sat  Father in pain, continue routine

Sun  Father in pain, continue routine. Meanwhile LOTS of thinking going on.  This is crazy. Friends say getting in piecemeal people doesn’t work, for obvious reasons. Penny drops. She must go to a home. I cannot cope with this. I am POOPED. Walk round to the nearest home. Fancy schmancy and costs a FORTUNE.

Monday Father in pain, continue routine. Accidentally talk to a neighbor who recommends another Nursing Home. Simple, does the job, friendly. We go there. Is ok.   

Tuesday  Finally holiday over. Early, the manager from the Home calls, yes we can take her.   Doc comes for father, prescribes an x-ray. Doc goes.

Weds   We go swimming, at last, all 3. Person from home comes to assess. We get mother downstairs, somehow, into the car and off to to the home.  Confusing for her of course.  Is a big deal for us too; suddenly she is not there.  Father sad. Married 72 years.  Police call us. After 6 weeks they have found the bike. Told us where it was. 9.30 at night, we went. It was where I left it. So???? It had a nice holiday in Balham.

Thursday   To the Home to take some forgotten things.  She is happy!  What a difference.  Meanwhile no news of x-ray for father. Waited long enough; still in pain. I take him to hospital. After phone calls to doc it is done.  On the way, to the computer shop to get Word back. Took the guy 30 seconds.   

One whole week  back in London.

Today, Friday  My birthday!  Just let me sleep, please.

At last!!

There has been no blog for weeks as I couldn't open the damn thing. The page just said 'loading'.....
you know the kind of thing.
Finally, I spoke to the magic young men who fix these things remotely and whoopee, they told me not to use Safari but Firefox instead, and LO.  I could have worked that out, but didn't.
I am writing this off the cuff, so please take it in the right spirit.
It has been a hell of a few weeks.

To keep it short:
We were in Poland, mother was taken into hospital the day we arrived at our house... I was told all ok, no worries. Dehydrated. After 3.5 weeks she comes home, and from what I could gather my father was not coping at all well. So we came back early, by a week.
Then I heard all about how horrendous it had all been, and so on.  2 days after we returned the children arrived, son and crew, 4 of them, for a week.  It was planned, school holidays, so no changing. On the last night my ex, sons' father, comes up from the country, so we are 9 sleeping in the house.
I have to say we had a great visit. The highlight was a jaunt to see Winters' Tale at the Globe. None of them had been there. Alice, granddaughter, 14, crazy about Shakespeare, and Grisha, nearly 7. Stefan, son Laurie and wife, Nina. They were all absolutley thrilled with it. I couldnt go as it was kicking off with the parents, and my cold was getting under way. Happily I found a student who took the ticket and it made her day.  Despite the crowd and everything it was very good.
During that week we had a constant stream of social workers, co-ordinators, nurses, community workers...... you name it. We had to put in a care plan for mother.  Up till that point dad had been looking after her quite well, but complaining more of back ache and tiredness (hardly surprising). On the Saturday we had a row over who will look after her as he deeply resented me in the room even... though would never admit it, so I trotted off and left him to it for the weekend.  To save some expense we said we could cope with no help at the weekend.  He had a couple of very disturbed nights, then suddenly succumbed to the cold that the children had brought. We all got it!  He took to his bed, said he was done, can't do this anymore, and I took over.  Fine.   But there were some panicky moments, as I had never done the personal stuff and was not at all keen. And the nurse is not always there when you want them!  But amazing what you can do when you have to.
So he went to bed, but 8 days later, though he is cheerful, he is still there!  And, to boot, Stefan did not get the cold, which with me lasted maybe 3 days..... he got FLU. Only now he is up, after languishing hot and sweaty for 5 days. So I had 3 who needed clean bedding, food and drink and the rest.  PLUS the following weekend I had forgetten I cancelled the weekend care and Saturday morning wondered where the nurse was. There I was with 3 sick in bed, and mother wants the loo! HELP.  Then I twigged.  A few phone calls and I got it sorted, but a bit hairy there.
On top: my knee (complete replacement) after the op was not where it should be. I had not been doing the exercises, or not doing them right or whatever, and its range was still very poor. I saw a physioterapist at the hospital who scared me to death telling me I had to do certain exercises 5 times per day, or else. If it is no better in 2 weeks I would have to see the surgeon about some sort of manipulation or whatever, under anesthetic..... geez.  So since then I have been doing them like MAD. 
In Poland I got flu and was in bed, then we had to come back quite quickly,  which meant 2 days hard driving (Stef, not me). But the knee after all that was CRAP, not surprisingly.
However, after only a few days of HARD exercise it is much better and it will continue to improve. I can go up the stairs with a cup of tea in one hand and a pile of washing in the other, now.  No holding on, yeah! And its a beastly staircase that curves.

Poland was lovely but leaving was hard. Leaving, with no notion of when we would be back. And going to look after the parents who are terribly old and who from now on cannot be left. Quite sad, really.

Stef did get quite a lot done, including installing the 2nd panel from Sasha, a great delight.

It is the custom in these parts

Should your front door be unlocked (rather unlikely) and it were to open as you sat quietly reading, eating supper or whatever, allowing several family members to walk in, unannounced, you may be somewhat taken aback. Imagine the scene then when they remove coats, shoes and hats, move to the table and settle themselves. Put down your book, computer, turn off the tv, and put the kettle on. Then get the bread, latest cooked dish, cake, beer, vodka…whatever you can find and offer it all. Everything will be eaten and drunk. That’s what happens here. The fact that we have not yet installed the electric gates and our door remains unlocked will make no difference. They will ring, we will open.

It appears, amongst our family here, there is no such thing as loneliness.  I say it appears as my language is not good enough to pick up all the gossip, but as my particular generation grows older I can be assured of the close company of a good handful of contemporary family members. So for all the shock of this unwarranted intrusion to me, a true Brit in so many ways, despite being 100% central European in blood, the fact is these visitors have chosen to spend the evening with us, in our house. I am very flattered.

So I keep up the baking, the soups, the bottling, waiting for the next invasion. Just to be ready.

 

Rear centre, Stefan. To his right, brother Zbysiek. Next to him, wife Anita. Opposite her is Anna, Zbysiek and Stefan’s sister, who sits next to her son in law, Mariusz, and lastly, his son Maciej.

Bread

For a long time I have been baking the family bread, but it wasn’t especially good. The taste was pretty bland, despite the addition of all sorts of seeds etc., though it looked ok and had some sort of a crust.  I thought, now I have more time lets take this to the next level and put in some effort. So I did a bit of research and bought myself a smart book. This bread is made with a sourdough starter.  Making the starter is fun, spread over 4 days of feeding and stirring. Then it can be used to start the next bake in all sorts of recipes that need yeast. But this is natural yeast produced with flour and water, only. As the starter matures all sorts of chemical reactions happen. The flavour intensifies and the bread as a result is a far more interesting product.