All summer long, my phones have been buzzing with SMS notifications from the Polish government's security centre (Rządowe Centrum Bezpieczeństwa), warning citizens of impending thunderstorms, downpours, hail, localised flooding, and possible interruptions in electricity supply. The messages warn us to secure any objects outside that might be carried away by strong winds, and tell us to keep watching the weather forecasts.
Online weather charts indeed have been showing the progress of violent storms as they sweep across Poland, typically from south-west to north-east. [I use meteo.pl for its charts that can be localised to the nearest gmina, and its zoomable maps for forecasts, and rainviewer.com for real-time progress of thunderclouds.]
Yesterday evening as I set out of my walk, with one such storm imminent. Though it was still dry, I could see the entire landscape to the west of Chynów illuminated by frequent and massive lightning strikes, incessant rumbles of thunder, and winds whipped up by the downdraft from the water plummeting out of the sky. Soon enough it caught up with me - I had to run home to avoid a soaking. Safe inside my house I watched the spectacular light show; the sun had set at 20:10 but it was far darker than dusk - until the next flash of lightning lit up the garden like day.
Time for supper - kettle on - and the lights went out. And back on again. And off, and on. And then again, until minutes later they finally went out, not to return. My laptop has battery power for several hours; I'm halfway through listening to a Royal Institution science lecture. It continues playing for about ten minutes until the buffered content reaches its end. My phones are working. The torch function is extremely useful - having no candles on the działka, these are the only source of light, apart from the dim glow of the control panel for the security system by the front door, powered by back-up batteries.
Fortunately, it's summer; in the house it's a comfortable 22.5C. A power-cut in winter would be disastrous, as the działka heating is 100% electric. Darkness, however, means I can't read books, I can't type; outside torrential rain is still pouring down. I run outside to take a look - I can't see any lights in Jakubowizna, nor in Chynów, nor in Nowe Grobice. A fire engine is on its way to an emergency.
Back indoors, there's no hot water - so can't even take a shower in the dark. It's coming up to nine pm, I decide to wash my teeth and have an early night.
This is the first sustained power cut I've experienced in Poland since the Corpus Christi storm of 2010. That was bad - 36 hours without electricity, and heavy flooding all over Jeziorki.
I am blessed with the ability to fall asleep easily, and so I do, around 21:15. I wake just after midnight to the hum of the refrigerator; opening my eyes, I can see the blinking glow of the internet router on the windowsill. All is well; I go back to sleep, to wake naturally at 06:15. Nine hours of quality rest; some vivid dreams (exploring London Underground tube tunnels in the 1950s with my son, a glass-fronted control centre at the end of a platform, my old office at the CBI, though moved to Warsaw). Maybe going to bed shortly after nine is a good idea? [Maybe time to refresh an idea I had some while back - to go to sleep every day an hour after sunset? In late June, this would be about 10pm, in late December, this would mean going to bed around half past four in the afternoon.]
This morning it's stopped raining. I check the cellar; not too bad - bailing out half a bucket of water from the circular hole in the cellar floor. This needs doing every time it rains heavily, otherwise water osmoses its way up the cellar walls and into the house, leading to damp and mildew. Advice for anyone building a house - don't build a cellar! They are entirely unnecessary in these days of refrigerators, and increased flooding due to climate change means risk of getting waterlogged. A ziemianka - a dug-out cellar built away from the house - is a far better alternative.
Weather likely to be more clement for the next three days - sunshine to dry out the damp soil.
This time last year:
Kilometres of new asphalt
This time two years ago:
One man went to mow
This time four years ago:
My father's penknife and airport security
This time five years ago:
Post-holiday detox diet starts today
This time eight years ago:
Cycle ride up and down the S2 and S79 before they open
This time nine years ago:
Kraks and back in a day by train
This time ten years ago:
Fountains by the New Town
This time 11 years ago:
Old-School Saska Kępa
This time 12 years ago:
The land, the light
This time 13 years ago:
Rainbow over Jeziorki
This time 14 years ago:
Previously in Portmeirion
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