Box-top art in the Sublime Aesthetic

For my brother Marek

I'm of what author Geoff Dyer described as the 'Airfix Generation', post-war boys brought up gluing together polystyrene kits of aircraft, tanks and warships. An all-consuming pastime that engaged millions of us around the world, it was big business for companies like Airfix and Frog in the UK, Revell, Monogram and Aurora in the US, Heller in France, Tamiya and Hasegawa in Japan.

Marketing was crucial; the competition for pocket money intense. And so packaging played a crucial role, especially as markets opened and the choice of products became wider.

Any boy born in the UK in the 1950s and 1960s will be instantly familiar with the works of Roy Cross, though they might not know his name. Roy Cross was employed by Airfix from 1964 to 1974, which neatly encompasses the time I made Airfix models by the score. He's still alive (99 next April) by the way! There are two excellent books (and I thank my brother Marek for buying the first one for me) about the Roy Cross era of  Airfix box art (link here)

There's immediacy and action in all his Airfix box-tops; the book shows the alternative sketches that never made it past the marketing men. Any work lacking the necessary flak-bursts, dropping bombs, enemy aircraft and ground explosions was judged as being insufficiently exciting. Here are some classics... (ironically, I had neither of these Airfix kits as a boy).

However, this post is not going to be about Roy Cross, but about his lesser-known transatlantic rival, Jack Leynnwood. Working for America's biggest manufacturer of plastic hobby kits, Revell, around the same time as Roy Cross was at Airfix, Leynnwood (1921-1999) showed an otherworldly aesthetic that resonated deeply with me. In particular, the dark skies, dramatic lighting, the harsh landscapes - and above all the sinister, threatening atmosphere of the Cold War at its height. The subjects - US military hardware, which kept us in Western Europe safe from the USSR.

Here are some examples of Revell Cold War-era box art that I remember well (although Revell kits were nowhere near as widely available or advertised in the UK as Airfix). These two I made myself (I recall getting this helicopter for my eighth birthday).

The Arctic setting and day-glo markings (to make it easier to spot aircraft downed on the snow or ice) attracted me to this kit of the Northrop F-89 Scorpion, below.

Below: iconic American strategic bomber, stop-gap between the Boeing B-29/B-50 Superfortress and Boeing B-52 Stratofortress, the Convair B-36 Peacemaker, a plane that always fascinated me - the Magnesium Cloud, six turnin' and four burnin'.

Not only aircraft, rockets too... below: a Corporal surface-to-surface missile set, redolent of the Cold War threat of battlefield nuclear weapons

And below, the launching of the Snark, an intercontinental nuclear cruise missile from this era.

Below: box-art I don't remember seeing at the time, but it's so good, as it hits all the right notes - a Lockheed Neptune maritime patrol bomber taking off from a base in the Arctic. Glorious - the sky darkening to a deep, midnight blue; the stark icebergs, the day-glo markings, the crawler tractor, the crew wearing deeply hooded N-3B parkas...

Below: my brother mocked up this Revell-style box art of a North Dakota grain elevator, in the style of Jack Leynnman.

The golden age of box-art passed with legislation requiring 'truth in advertising' - all that could be displayed on the packaging was a photograph of the built-up model. Both Roy Cross and Jack Leynmann were 'let go' by Airfix and Revell around this time, the mid-1970s.

Jack Leynnman's aesthetic has influenced mine, in particular the quality of the skies and the light; his subjects also harks back to an America that is somehow more intimately connected with me via anomalous qualia memories ('exomnesia events') than should be the case. More than just a coincidental trigger - something I sense deeply.

This time last year:
Trains of thought, insights and 'voices'

This time three years ago:
Parliamentary train at West Ealing station

This time four years ago:
Progress in Jakubowizna

This time six years ago:
Miedzianka by Filip Springer

This time seven years ago:
Out of the third, into the fourth

This time eight years ago:
Inverted reflections

This time nine years ago:
Observations from London's WC1
and Observations from the City of London

This time eight years ago:
Civilising Jeziorki's wetlands

This time 11 years ago:
Warsaw's Aleje Jerozolimskie

This time 13 years ago:
Melancholy autumn mood in Łazienki

This time 14 years ago:
Autumn gold, Zamienie

This time 15 years ago:
Flamenco Sketches - Seville

First steps in cider-making

With so many apple trees, I have been unable to do more than invite friends and neighbours over to pick their own, and still the majority of fruit merely ends up being recycled into the soil. So this year I decided to buy a decent slow juicer and start making my own cider. The juicer is from Kuvings, a South Korean manufacturer. Being a slow juicer, with a powerful motor to grind the fruit, little heat is transferred from the machinery to the fruit, thus maintaining its properties. 

The key to all this is scale. To extract one litre of pure apple juice, I need ten apples. Each needs to be washed, quartered, and have bruising cut out. Very few have inhabitants, but these have to be cut out too. The juicer's magazine can hold 400ml of juice, this is released when full into the juice jug. The dry remains are pumped out of the other side, a dense sludge that goes into the compost. The juice jug holds one litre; once full the juicer is switched off, the juice strained a second time and filtered again. This takes time. The by-product here is an exquisite fruit mousse, wonderful to eat with natural yogurt.

In producing 20 litres of juice, I made three kilos of the mousse, stored in jars, filled to the brim to avoid further oxidation. So - to make 20 litres of juice, I need 200 apples. I select windfall apples, they are ripe; newly fallen ones have little if any bruising. No problem here. The limiting factor, the choke-point, is filtering the juice through a strainer. This takes the most time and effort.

Over six hours work over two days, with two lots of half-hour cleaning sessions at the end of it. The juicer needs to be dismantled and washed by hand to remove all apple particles from it - Kuvings supplies three custom brushes for this purpose. The entire kitchen needs a good scrubbing too, all work surfaces, cutting boards, utensils, washing area and floor.

But when all is done, a beautiful outcome. I bought a 20-litre demijohn (100zł from the local hardware store in Chynów), rubber bung with hole and a plastic 'bubbler' tube that allows carbon dioxide out while preventing the ingress of air, which would turn the juice to vinegar. There was also a 34-litre version on sale, but that would be impossible to carry from the kitchen to the cellar once full. 

Left: the 20-litre demijohn, down in my cellar where it will ferment for several months, before being decanted into bottles for a secondary fermentation - and be ready for next summer.

When the water in the tube ceases to bubble, the primary fermentation process will be complete. The cellar is ideal as it is cool in summer and in winter it is warmer than outside.

My basic guides were this BBC Good Food article and this description of a single-variety cider made without yeast or sugar from Cydrownia Przy Sadzie near Grudziądz.

I was interested to discover that a demijohn is not 'half a john', but comes from the French dame-jeanne, or 'Lady Jane'. I'd long thought that the American term for demijohn, carboy, was a brand-name or something to do with a car and a boy - but again no - it's from the Persian qarābah meaning 'big jug', and from this comes the Arabic qarrāba, which morphed into the Spanish garrafa, and thence into carafe (and indeed into the Polish karafka).

More cider-making in future!

This time last year
The glories of a sunny day in early autumn

This time four years ago:

The possibilities of a quantum multiverse

This time five years ago:
More about sleep

This time ten years ago:
On behalf of the workshy community

This time 11 years ago:
Classic truck cavalcade

This time 12 years ago
Narrow back-roads clogged with commuters

This time 13 years ago:
Autumn gold, Łazienkowski Park

This time 15 years ago:
Of bishops and bands

To Rzeszów and back by rail, Part II

Arriving at Lublin, I had about 20 minutes before my train for Rzeszów. Long enough to have a look around the station. Below: this is the most absurd station in Poland when it comes to platform numeration. In the UK, it's simple; one platform edge, one platform number. In Poland, there are platforms (perony) and tracks (tory), which correspond to platform edges. These are not numbered for the passenger's convenience, but according to some arcane practice known only to railway workers. How can it possibly be that Track 52 is next to Track 82? This kind of 'sod-the-passenger' bollocks has caused me to miss more than one tight connection, especially in Poznań Główny, where this happened twice, with me being unable to navigate through a morass of stupid track and platform numbers. This is compounded by the printed timetables referring first to the peron number then the tor number (1-5), while the station announcers do it the other way round (pociąg osobowy odjedzie z toru piątego przy peronie pierwszym). 

Below: my train from Lublin to Rzeszów happened to be a Czech one - with a Polish name. The Roztocze runs from Lublin all the way to Bohumín in Czechia via Rzeszów, Kraków and Katowice, with České dráhy rolling stock pulled by a PKP loco. Again, like the Skarżysko-Lublin leg, the ticket was Super Promo and laughably cheap - just 19.00zł  for 213km (£3.65 for 130 miles - an advance London-to-Birmingham Super Off-Peak single is five times more expensive at £16.50). Note the platform number - Platform 3, Track 55. Track 51 is visible on the right.

There's a certain linguistic frisson about boarding a foreign train in one's own country, and the Czech language sounds slightly comical to the Polish ear (and vice versa, it is said).

For some reason, cross-border trains have carriage numbers in three digits. Domestic InterCity carriages use numbers 1 up to 16; I'm not sure what this is all about. Signage on train is in Czech, so I can only guess. "Výstraha" sounds like 'wystraszyć - to scare - so therefore 'warning'; "Svítí-li červené světlo" sounds like 'Świeci się czerwone światło' - the red light is on, the next word I guess means 'door', but the rest I can't work out. Sadly, no buffet car.

The train stopped at many stations along the way; some were towns know to me, (Stalowa Wola, Leżajsk or Łańcut) - some were tiny unknown places (Zaklików or Nowa Sarzyna). Still at this price, one can't complain about the slow ride - three hours, so 70km/h (38mph average).

At last, the train arrived at Rzeszów station, which I visited last three years ago.  OK, so we had Covid and the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine, but the station is still half-way through a major remont. Very little had changed over the intervening years – the footbridge had gone, the new tunnel was partially open, the forecourt was a total muddy mess and pedestrian signage piss-poor. Below: ready in another four years? Progress is dismal.

The next day, my return to Chynów was more straightforward - the Kochanowski express from Rzeszów to Warsaw (an electric Dart InterCity train no more changing locomotives at Lublin at least, just a change of direction of travel!) Being a Dart, the Kochanowski has a dining car, so I could enjoy the classic schabowy served hot and fresh, with a Jan Olbracht craft ale. Below: this is Polish rail travel at its best.

I toyed with the idea of alighting this train at Dęblin, and rather than going all the way into Warsaw and the out again, simply taking the shortish trip from Dęblin to Radom and then another shortish trip from Radom to Chynów. But looking at the timetable apps on my phone, I could see that the Warsaw way would get me back to the działka 20 minutes earlier than via Radom, despite being 40km longer.

And so, there we have it. Polish trains are cheap, clean, comfortable, relatively punctual (only one of the five trains I caught was delayed - the Morcinek, which arrived in Lublin 22 minutes late). Only a motorbike ride in high summer (avoiding main roads) would have been preferable. Below: pylons, somewhere between Łańcut and Leżajsk, through the window of the dining car. The dream-state of rail travel.

This time five years ago:

Of pipes and pylons

This time seven years ago:
What's the biggest threat - Putin or ISIS?

This time eight years ago:
Scenarios for change in Russia

This time nine years ago:
A new bus for Jeziorki - the 809 to Bobrowiec

This time 11 years ago:
Bunker in Powiśle

This time 12 years ago:
Sunshine brings out the best in everything

This time 14 years ago:
There must be a better way (3)

To Rzeszów and back by rail, Part I

Thursday 22 September was World Car-Free Day, and Koleje Mazowieckie announced free travel all over its network. Everyone eligible, no document necessary. As I was travelling to Rzeszów that day, I decided not to go into Warsaw to catch a train from there (either via Kraków or Lublin), but to go as far south on the KM network (Skarżysko-Kamienna), and thence to Rzeszów, via Kielce and Kraków.

I caught the 08:29 from Chynów to Radom Główny, for the first time taking this route since the modernisation of the line was completed. Having already visited the brand-new station of Warka Miasto, I was keen to see new stations that have recently appeared within Radom’s city limits. These are (from north to south), Radom Stara Wola, Radom Północ and Radom Gołębiów. They are all copy-paste jobs, adhering to modern standards of level access, safety and signage. These stations add a lot to the liveability of Radom, which I confess is one of my least-favourite Polish cities (along with Białystok and Częstochowa). Radom is very much a commuter town for Warsaw, 100km to the north, and the modernisation of the line has vastly improved access to the capital.

The three new stations for Radom have doubled the number that the city has, which, as of last December, led to the renaming of the main station from simple 'Radom' to 'Radom Główny'. Główny comes from the word głowa, meaning 'head'; cognate with the German Hauptbahnhof.

Below: the first impressions of a passenger alighting at Platform 1, Radom Głowny from a new Impuls train, which has just called at three brand-new stations are "What's this? A heritage railway?". The wooden building dates back to Tsarist times, when Radom was a station along the line from Dęblin (across the Vistula) to Dąbrowa Górnicza.  

Left: rules are rules but in Radom we do things our way. On the (wooden) window sill of the wooden building, a glass jar for cigarette ends. 

Further clashes of rules vs habit at the far end of the platform (below) - the station car park doesn't have a direct route from the platform, so a length of fencing has been removed and a path trampled by passengers through the rough grass into a muddy track. This way, it's 40m from platform end to car park - the official way is 445m. You can just see a person diving into the gap in the fence on their way to their car. Whoever designed/planned pedestrian access and walkways around this station should have their driving licence taken away from them until they learn to think like public-transport users.

Below: Radom station from Platform 3, the main building looking far grander than the wooden shack above, although they both date back to 1885. This building has recently been renovated.

So - on to Skarżysko-Kamienna. A platform change and a 12-minute wait, no need for a ticket. The contrast between the modernised part of the line (Warsaw-Radom) to the unmodernised (Radom-Skarżysko) was marked. Below: the station (more of a halt, really) at Gąsawy Plebańskie. Note the old, low, paved platform. Note also the modernised road infrastructure - new pavements, pedestrian crossing. But no steps from the platform to the crossing! The old chap had to gingerly make his way down the grassy bank - at least the day was dry. The 'official' way is a 120m detour via the far end of the platform (just visible). There is hope - this line awaits modernisation. May the planners think about how people use the station. They won't want to be doing long detours because of slipshod planning.

Between Radom and Skarżysko lies the sad town of Szydłowiec, notable for having the highest unemployment rate in Poland. While Poland is currently enjoying the lowest joblessness since the end of communism (4.8%), with the official rate in Poznań at 1.0% and Warsaw 1.7%, IN SZYDŁOWIEC IT IS STILL 21.4%!!) How on earth can this be? A town full of slackers, shirkers, alcoholic ne'er-do-wells? Even Radom up the road has 9.2% unemployment... Something should be done about this place. Below: the station building in Szydłowiec (built 1885) looks like it's been semi-demolished.

My train arrives on time at Skarżysko; the station is being modernised. Last time I was here was in January 2017. The old footbridge has been pulled down, to be replaced by a tunnel (under construction). An important railway junction, the station stands on the crossing of the Radom-Kraków and Sandomierz-Koluszki lines. This is one of Poland's busiest rail-cargo junctions. Below: a static steam engine stands under an old-style semaphore; behind it a local train serving the line to Sandomierz; across to the left a works train engaged in track-laying.

Here's something I've not seen before - a Düwag Wadloper diesel railbus operated by SKPL (Stowarzyszenie Kolejowych Przewozów Lokalnych - an association formed to provide local rail services). It is just arriving from Tomaszów Mazowiecki along a line re-opened to passenger transport in December 2021. Good to see this happening.

It was only here in Skarżysko-Kamienna that I realised that I hadn’t really needed to go quite so far south, or got up quite so early. I could have caught a later train from Chynów to Radom, because the fastest connection from S-K to Rzeszów was not via Kiece and Kraków, but via Lublin. So I caught the Morcinek express (Wrocław-Lublin) at S-K which back-tracked me all the way to Radom, and thence onto Lublin. The ticket, bought ten minutes before departure, was SuperPromo; a mere 14.00 złotys (£2.65!) for 162 kilometres (100 miles for less than the cost of an advance ticket from West Ealing to Ealing Broadway, £2.90). From Lublin, I caught the Roztocze, a TLK train consisting of Czech railways rolling stock – a train from Lublin to Bohumin (in Czechia), via Rzeszów, Kraków and Katowice). This train (unlike the delayed Morcinek) arrived nicely on time in Rzeszów. But more on that in my next post.

This time last year:
Science, Religion, Magic and Consciousness

This time four years ago:
The house on the działka, coming on

This time five years ago:
Autumn comes early

This time six years ago:
Kriegslok passes through Jeziorki

This time ten years ago:
A little way west of Jeziorki

This time 11 years ago:
The Old Sailor's Tale - part II 

This time 12 years ago:
Prague-Jeziorki-Moscow

This time 13 years ago:
The passing of Lt. Cmdr. Tadeusz Lesisz 

This time 15 years ago:
Summer ends, autumn begins

Gathering moss - and hops

Since my post explaining how, during a nocturnal meditative state I was inspired to make an indoor moss garden, I have been filling numerous containers with various mosses. Starting from the moss growing in the cracks between paving stones outside my house, moving onto different species of moss in the forest, I have been using old plastic packaging from blue cheese and ready meals. 

Now after four weeks of practice, seeing that the moss is happy with indoor life on the działka, I have invested in a porcelain container, this one being a savoury nibbles tray, below. The moss is from the pine forest beyond the orchards. Before gently removing the moss from the ground, I covered the bottom of the tray with the same sandy soil on which it was growing. 

Growing moss indoors is said to have positive effects for the health, filtering indoor air and generally exuding a sense of calm. I dive into Wikipedia to read up about the different mosses; I can identify three distinct types so far. Quite different to the forest moss is the stuff growing along the southern margin of the old DK50, close to where it diverges from the Chynów bypass (below). Rich, spongy-soft and almost neon-green in the sunlight, this is lovely...

And here it is in its new home, where it will be well looked after (I hope it doesn't mind)... Now all I need to do is to accelerate my consumption of Castello DanaBlu cheese. Six to a wheel! 

Also collecting this week - hop cones. Around the junction of ulica Główna, ul, Grójecka and ul. Miodowa there are four hop bushes that seem to be wild and uncultivated, overhanging public land. I have helped myself to enough to boil up several litres of hop extract. The sad thing about this wonderfully thirst-quenching beverage (non-alcoholic) is that the weather is now too cold for this purpose. The traditional way of treating hop cones - drying them, storing them, and the adding them to the brewing process - is the only means of getting hops to work their magic the following summer.

I have found one good use for my hop extract - adding it 50/50 to the mighty BRNX 12% Super Strong Beer (3.39 złotys/63p for a half-litre tin). This way, I have a litre of 6% beer with the intensely bitter taste of an IPA or APA. This works out at 35p a pint, for something with all the attributes of a decent craft ale.

This time last year:
Gdańsk, Northern Europe

This time two years ago:
Herons in Jeziorki, summer's end

This time three years ago:

Sublime September sun, Ealing

This time five years ago:
Stepping up the pace

This time six years ago:
Evolution of human consciousness

This time seven years ago:
Farewell to Ciocia Jadzia

This time eight years ago:
By train from to Konstancin and Siekierki

This time nine years ago:
Summer's end, Jeziorki

This time 11 years ago:
Ząbkowska, Praga's newly-hip thoroughfare

This time 13 years ago:
Catching the klimat

This time 15 years ago:
Road to Łuków - a road trip into the sublime

The Monarchy - my arguments for

Watching the funeral of Queen Elizabeth, and commenting on it for five Polish media channels, I found myself having to contrast the role of a hereditary head of state vs. an elected one. I must say - I prefer the former - though with an important caveat - lineage. The late Queen, and now King Charles III, have both spent much or all (in the case of the King) of their childhood and youth preparing for the role of monarch; Britain's Royal Family has a solid and generally reputable track history.

Having a head of state that is above party politics is such a blessing, which I can see so clearly in Poland where the current head of state is so deeply connected to the ruling party. I have written before about the desirability of a 'no-party state', in which there are no political parties, only technocrats elected to ensure citizens' protection (from crime, from foreign aggression, from disease, from setbacks in life through social security, from unscrupulous entrepreneurs) and that citizens have the wherewithal to flourish (education and infrastructure). 

The Queen's dedication to her duty, a lifetime of service, is at odds with the often venal motives that drive mere politicians - power -> money-> power -> money. I see little noble in party politics right now in either Poland or Britain. In both cases, it is poorly-educated voters who have become the power base for a cynical and manipulative self-interest group.

In her life, the Queen has tended to unite rather than to divide; in death the more so. There is no serious republican movement in Britain (Ireland has a different issue); there are no politicians in parliament today calling for the monarchy to be abolished - although Liz Truss once did so in a previous iteration (the one before she became the Tory Remainer that she also once was. Hardly 'a lady not for turning'). Would the British really want a presidential head of state? I doubt if there's more than 15% of Britons in favour of that.

Yes, the Royal Family can be accused of living a life of luxury (and for those not in line for the throne, that life can also be quite louche). Though the Queen lived in splendour, that splendour was an inescapable part of the show, part of the magic. A cycling monarchy, like those low-profile north-west European royals, would not stand out enough from the common citizen; sadly, that reflects the status hierarchy of the human condition.

Once upon a time, royal families acquired that status through brutality, often as the victors of local and regional battles determining who owned and ran what. England went through two civil wars before emerging with a Royal Family that would evolve into what it is today. The fact that there's no controversy about a Windsor's right to rule (rather than some other pretender to the throne of different lineage) suggests that the continuity and tradition inherent in the system is working. The Queen is dead, long live the King. We all know that. No waiting for a puff of white smoke over Buckingham Palace, no re-counting ballot papers over and over until the right result comes in. 

I would caution Britons who look forward to the abolition of monarchy; the alternative can be much, much worse (see America 2016-2020).

This time last year:
Seaside, Sopot

This time last two years ago:
Repeatable moments of joy

This time three years ago:
Spectacularly glorious day, Ealing

This time six years ago:
Evolution, the future and us

This time eight years ago:
Relief as Scots vote to remain in UK

This time nine years ago:
The S2 opens all the way to Puławska

This time ten years ago:
Thundering ghost from out of the mist

This time 11 years ago:
Push-pull for Mazowsze

This time 12 years ago:
Okęcie runway repairs are complete

This time 14 years ago:
I know that painting from somewhere...

Behold the Wonder of the Commonplace

1. Ninety-three million miles (150,000 million km) from us shines our Sun. Did it have to be there for us? Without it, no earth, no life on earth.

2. The sun emits light and heat from a massive thermonuclear reaction at its core; radiation from the sun takes eight minutes to reach us.

3. That light and that heat makes plants grow on our planet. Plants such as grasses, fruit and vegetables.

4. These plants convert that energy from the sun into food which we can eat, and which can be eaten by animals, birds and fish, which we can also eat. This gives us energy to move and to think and feel.

5. Our star, Sun, formed 4.6 billion years ago from a molecular cloud, 9.2 billion years after Big Bang. What happened before Big Bang - science can only hypothesise. We do know, however, that our planet began to form around 4.5 billion years ago, in an orbit around our Sun that was just right for life to emerge.

6. Life on our planet began 100 million years after that. The jump from non-life (gas, water, rocks) to life (self-replicating forms that can grow, react, transform energy and transfer information into next generations) is also something about which science can only hypothesise (abiogensis). As far as we know, the jump from non-life to life occurred only the once.

7. Our last universal common ancestor lived 3.5 to 3.8 billion years ago, and from this one organism evolved all forms of life on our planet - plants, animals, bacteria, funghi, slime moulds and archaea.

8. There is an unbroken chain of reproduction that runs all the way from the very first life to emerge on this planet to you. Many billions of generations. Had just one of those reproductions failed to happen - your body would not be alive today. (But - I believe - your consciousness would still be here, albeit inhabiting a different organism.)

9. The fact that you are alive on this planet of ours is an absolute miracle, the odds against it being billions to one. But here you are! Conscious! Aware of your awareness! Relish every moment! Give thanks for it!

10. Modern urban life disconnects us from these truths. It is time to reconnect. Plant your bare feet on the soil. Look up at the starry skies. Look at the moss growing, look at clouds forming. Hold a leaf, a blade of grass, in your hand (don't pull it away from the tree or the ground!) - examine it, feel it feeling alive. Re-establish contact with nature. Express gratitude. Be hopeful. 

Your journey from Zero to One is infinitely long. But we will get there.

This time last year:
The force-field of fate

This time two years ago:
Hot in the city

This time three years ago:
Resting with the heroes

This time five years ago:
Polish employers' demographic challenge

This time nine years ago:
The rich, the poor, the entrepreneur

This time ten years ago:
Food: where's the best place to shop in Poland? 

This time 11 years ago:
Bittersweet

This time 12 years ago:
Commuting made easy

This time 13 years ago:
Work starts on the S79/S2 'Elka'

This time 14 years ago:
Warsaw's accident-filled streets

Personal reflections upon the death of Queen Elizabeth II

Queen Elizabeth was not meant to die like a mere mortal - she should have kept on going till at least 101, like her mother. And without the cigarettes and gin, 101 was a modest target. So her passing was unexpected and deeply saddening. 

On Tuesday she had accepted Johnson's resignation and asked Liz Truss to form a government. Unusually, this happened in Balmoral rather than London (which somehow required both new and former premier to fly to Scotland each in their own jet), but photos showing a smiling queen (albeit holding a walking stick) reassured the nation. On Thursday lunchtime, Twitter started buzzing with rumours that the Queen was in a serious condition; At this stage, however, I was still hoping that the Queen would recover after a few days, and would return to full health. But when images of her children and grandchildren arriving at Balmoral started appearing, I could tell that all was not well.  I started receiving media requests, these conversations ending with me and the producer both saying "let's hope we don't have to speak again any time soon." 

Sadly we did; at 19:00 (6pm in the UK) the BBC announced her passing. My phone began ringing nonstop. I've done three TV and one radio interview today, more lined up for the following days.

********

I have no experience of a world without Queen Elizabeth II. You'd have to be in your mid-70s to be able to say you do. Her profile was on the coins I'd take to school to pay for my school lunches - the profile of a young woman; on other coins in my hand would be profiles of her father, her bearded grandfather, her bearded great grandfather or even her great-great grandmother. Postage stamps bore only her likeness, commemorative stamps being few and far between (I recall the 1965 Battle of Britain 25th anniversary set; most stamps, however, would just feature the Queen's profile on different colour backgrounds. There was a large portrait of her, in her regal finery, above the stage in our primary-school assembly hall.

She was the personification of the British state that was undergoing dynamic change. We, the young Elizabethans, growing up in the 1960s, were moving swiftly away from the drab greyness and emotional tightness of post-war austerity. Our future would be one driven by the 'white heat of the technological revolution', by supersonic jets, hovercraft, colour television and gigantic computers. 

Once a year at primary school, we'd march around the playground carrying flags; this used to be called Empire Day, but then became renamed Commonwealth Day. Because I had an aunt living in Canada, I was chosen to carry the Canadian flag - this was bright red with Union Jack in the corner, then one year it changed to a red-white-red one with a red maple leaf. Somehow I felt less connected with it. Things were changing fast. As a child, I visited the Commonwealth Institute in Kensington, an impressively modern architectural structure. I went to see it with my parents one Sunday. Exhibits from every corner of the globe. Baskets woven in Africa or Asia. I must have been young; after the visit with my parents, I remarked to my mother "byłem pod wrażeniem" ("I was impressed") - she replied that she was impressed that I had used the phrase "byłem pod wrażeniem".

My mother, born on this day (8 September) less than 17 months after Princess Elizabeth,  was a staunch royalist. Having been through the whole Soviet experience in WW2, monarchic Britain was an oasis of civilisation, of order, of politeness and decency. The polar opposite from the arbitrary terror and brutal stupidity from which she had escaped, that had claimed the life of her father and had now engulfed the land where she was born. Somehow she ascribed all this, plus free NHS services and letters from civil servants signed 'your obedient servant' to the Queen - nasza królowa.

I have never met the Queen; I did meet Prince Phillip (who visited my workplace). I'd forgotten his quip - which an old colleague reminded me of after his death; on being introduced, I told him that I edited the CBI's fortnightly magazine, and he asked how often it came out. And once, I caught sight of King Charles III as a young man at the Tate Gallery, passing through with his escort.

The Queen is dead, long live the King. I feel Charles's reign will be turbulent. Constitutional issues will come to a head; calls for the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland to adopt a written constitution will become louder. And an end to first-past-the-post voting? And an end to the unelected House of Lords? How many states of which Charles is now head will become republics? Queen Elizabeth II of England was Elizabeth I of Scotland; on her death, Charles became Charles III of both kingdoms - but will his son become William V of England and William IV of Scotland? Will the unravelling of the United Kingdom begin with Northern Ireland?

It has long been held that the passing of Queen Elizabeth II will be the end of an era. Victorian constitutionalist Walter Bagehot's observation that the government of Britain was the magic of royalty and the machinery of Westminster and Whitehall, and that "daylight should not be let in on the magic" was perfectly put. The television age, sadly, did just that - and the magic faded after It's a Royal Knockout. Royalty is not about entertainment, but about timeless values.

Queen Elizabeth II stayed the course; however, she did not waver, dedicating her life to the crown in the old-fashioned way, even though her children's generation had tried to move with the times, into an era of celebrity rather than of authority. 

Am I an monarchist? A royalist, in opposition to republics with their elected heads of state? I have no ideology in this regard; I'm a pragmatist. All I'll say is that the monarchy, represented by Queen Elizabeth II worked. The Queen as head of state was infinitely preferable to a President Blair or a President Johnson - but then there have been dreadful monarchs in Britain's history too. With her passing, I would still rather commit to a constitutional monarchy as a preferable model for governance of the UK rather than swapping it for a republic.

And so I mourn the passing of the Queen; I deeply respected her in a way that I am unlikely to come to respect a head of state ever again. 

So far, 2022 has been a bad year; had my father, with his superstitious dislike of the number 22, would have been looking forward to 2023. 

This time three years ago
Best sandwich ever

This time four years ago:
Pictures of Warsaw

This time seven years ago:
Scotland's independence referendum looms

This time ten years ago:
Summer comes crashing to a halt

This time 11 years ago:
The atmosphere of impending autumn - Mono no aware

This time 12 years ago:
Time to recycle.

This time 15 years ago:
Coal train running

Blissful summer swansong

Is this Ohio? Are we at the ranch? No. This is Grobice, the gateway between Jakubowizna, to the right, and the DK (national road) 50, to the left. Today, the last day of dawn-to-dusk sunshine, with few clouds in the sky, enticed me for two local walks to catch the klimat.

Below: all that's missing is a mountain range, suggested by those wispy clouds along the horizon. This farm track runs parallel to the road leading to my działka, and is still unasphalted - long may it stay this way. It gets muddy in the autumn; local farmers throw bricks and building rubble into the deeper ruts and puddles so that their vehicles don't get bogged down.

Below: this is the road to my działka, which is asphalted - thank goodness! And still warm enough to wander around without a jacket.

Left: it may be early afternoon, but the sun cannot peek over the tops of the tall trees. At solar noon today, the elevation of the sun was 44° whereas in at the summer solstice it is 61.2°. This is just around the corner from the road above.

Below: orchards are ripening, although I am slightly worried about the calibre of the apples - they look a bit small to me, small because of a dry spring and dry summer, there has been less groundwater for the trees to draw up. Only the most commercial orchards are irrigated; fruit from the older ones - like this one, grown more naturally, is destined for industrial purposes (jabłko przemysłowe) - apple juice, processed apple etc; apple-growers are paid far less for these than for supermarket-grade table apples.

Below: looking across harvested fields towards the DK50. Note the line of acoustic screens between the road (still Warsaw's de facto southern ring road and busy east-west transit route, despite the opening last autumn of the S2 tunnel under Ursynów) and Sułkowice beyond.

Left: "Is that a Nikkor 70-300mm zoom lens in your right cargo pocket and a Nikkor 35mm f1.8 prime lens in your left cargo pocket or are you just pleased to see me?" The sun is now casting long evening shadows as I stroll into town (well Chynów actually), though it's not yet half past five.

Meanwhile, on the tracks, never-ending work continues. The road bridge carrying the DK50 over the Warsaw-Radom railway line is complete, but earthworks shoring up the embankments on either side of the viaduct are underway; a new cable is being laid alongside the east side of the tracks; drainage work is going on around Chynów station (which hopefully will prevent the road outside getting flooded every time there's a heavier shower); and some signalling work has necessitated the closure of the 'down' line north of Chynów. Below: a Radom-bound train swings onto the 'down' line as it departs from Chynów station; behind it, a Warsaw-bound train is waiting for the Radom train to clear the 'up' line. Until 16 September, the 'up' platform will serve both directions.

This time six years ago:
Endless summer in Jeziorki

This time seven years ago:
In search of proper corn on the cob

This time eight years ago:
Classic machinery

This time nine years ago:
S2/S79 opens partially (not yet reaching Puławska)

This time 13 years ago:
Recycling time rolls round again

Trees; nothing but trees and sunshine.

Such glorious weather makes the soul rejoice! Another nearly cloudless day, strong sunshine, though top temperatures well off their mid-summer high, with 22C still allowing for a jacket-free stroll in the early evening.

The light is strong, the sun and already low in the sky even though it's not yet 6pm. Below: the edge of the forest, looking towards the orchards of Jakubowizna.

Below: the reverse view to the one above - looking at the forest from the orchards. One of the XII Canonical Prospects of Jakubowizna, which we saw also in yesterday's post. Note the small pear tree between the two silver birches to the right.

Below: on the edge of a small birch grove, one I'd never been in this one before - wedged as it is between three orchards. A path went in about half way, then petered out; the undergrowth became too dense to continue. Note how heathland - low vegetation, acidic soil - suddenly gives way to birch trees, with a clearly defined boundary between the two.

Below: one for quiet contemplation; trees as conscious organisms, though not sentient, may well be acutely aware of their own existence, and feeling joy in sunshine. Go out and hug your nearest tree, and apologise to it for Mankind's brutally stupid attitude to Nature.

I woke up this morning to find there's no electricity on the działka. I went out into the street to discover what was going on - my neighbour said their house had no power either; down the end of the street - lack of power there too. So, resigned to a beautiful morning without electricity, I returned home, and took a photo of the wood next door (below), the sun still rising between the trees.

Looking in through the kitchen window, I could still not see any sign of life on the oven clock - then suddenly PAFF! it began flashing red 00:00. All was well. Another preternaturally glorious day on the działka and district.

Below: into the darkest, deepest forest, as the early evening sun descends below the treeline.

Below: rays streaming across the moss-covered floor of a clearing.

There's more than a tinge of regret at the passing of summer - tomorrow's the last day of perfect weather - clouds will gather on Thursday, rain's expected Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I just hope for some more sunny spells before the Hammer of Darkness comes crashing down. Below: maple bush in my back garden, visibly turning redder by the day. Mono no aware, as the Japanese say.

This time last year:

The year has achieved fruition

This time two years ago:
Jabłkowizna!

This time seven years ago:
Low water level - Jeziorki lakes

This time eight years ago:
Around the Czachówek diamond, again

This time 11 years ago:
Second line of the Metro runs into delays

This time 12 years ago
Army helicopters in action at Kielce defence show

This time 13 years ago:
World's largest helicopter over Jeziorki