Poppies, politeness and pride

If 11 November for Poland is about Independence, in Britain it's about Rememberance.

I'm in London for a few days to help my parents; my father had an angioplasty procedure last Tuesday, so I'm on hand to help with driving, shopping, cooking, washing up and a bit of garden work. My father has bounced back incredibly well; after a bit of pottering around in the garden today, he announced that although he's tired, his heart doesn't hurt him. His blood pressure has stabilised at a perfect level. Amazing at 88; his chances of getting to 100 are very good!

As always, contrasts between Poland and England are at the fore when I come over. It's been nearly 11 months since my last visit to my parents with Eddie and Moni just after Christmas. The weather contrast is incredible. Whereas in Warsaw most trees are already leafless, here in London many have not even started to change colour. The willow trees in my parents' garden and in Cleveland Park have only just started to shed their leaves. And the sunshine and warmth (+18C today) were something that Warsaw could only envy.

Together with my parents, we watched the Rememberance Sunday parade at the Cenotaph and the British Legion commemoration at the Royal Albert Hall. Rememberance Sunday is a wonderful event, so rich in tradition and meaning. Watching the veterans marching past the Queen as they have done each and every Rememberance Sunday of my life gives me a sense of continuity and stability that counteracts the gloomy news headlines here. And watching the dignity and pride of those marching - many veterans my father's age or even older - I can't help but contrast it with what was happening on Friday in Warsaw at another public commemoration of 11 November. And draw conclusions about relative levels of civilisation in the two countries with which I associate myself.

Public politeness is an area in which as I've noted before, there is a big difference between Poland and England, to Poland's detriment. In the supermarket, in the car park, in a crowded tube station. "With a thousand ta's and pardons, daintily alights Elaine" wrote John Betjeman in the second line of his poem Middlesex. That essential politeness rubs off on many migrants to the UK, though the Poles who've settled here after 2004 might have been in England too short a time to leave off their public swearing.

This time last year:

Setting sun in the mountains

This time two years ago:
That learning moment

This time three years ago:
Along the Polish-Czech border

This time four years ago:
Ul. Poleczki - remember it this way?