Night Crossings

Level crossings play their part in the aesthetics of railway travel. Every now and then, the regular rhythm of local comings and goings is disturbed by the clanging of bells, flashing of red lights and the dropping of barriers, announcing the imminent arrival of a train. The lights and bells begin more than three minutes before the train comes through, the barriers descend soon after. Few drivers bother to switch their engines off (it would save 2,400 revolutions of the typical engine idling at 800rpm - for a car with a two-litre engine that's 4,800 litres of emissions cut out, not to mention reduced fuel consumption and wear and tear on the cylinders). The train passes, the barriers rise, and several cars accelerate away. 

With an instinctive knowledge of train timetables, it's possible to judge which times to avoid - or when to come and snap some photos. Chynów station experiences a rush of trains around the half-past the hour mark, both local and express services passing both ways.

Now the Warsaw-Radom line is complete, nearly all ungated level crossings have been upgraded to the latest standards, even pedestrian-only crossings, such as the ones at Ustanówek or Krężel have little barriers and flashing lights. This makes things safer for local traffic. Accidents at level crossings are mercifully falling thanks to the EU-funded railway modernisation programme.

Darkness falls early; all the commuter trains to and from Warsaw pass through Chynów at night. Now's the time to get night shots from the local level crossings.

Below: the crossing between Chynów (in the foreground) and Węszelówka (across the tracks).  A double-decker przyspieszony (literally 'rushed' or 'hurried') limited-stop Koleje Mazowieckie train on its way to Skarżysko-Kamienna via Radom. When running to time, this services gets from W-wa Śródmieście to Chynów in just 39 minutes.

Below: the crossing between Chynów (foreground) and Widok across the tracks. In the distance, the lights of Chynów station. The passing train is the Koleje Mazowieckie all-stations service from Warsaw to Radom. It's often late as it has to make way for prioritised express trains, being held at stations with an extra track - Piaseczno, Czachówek Południowy, Chynów or Warka on this stretch.

Below: the crossing between Widok (foreground) and Chynów opposite. The InterCity express Orłowicz is on its way from Kraków to Olsztyn. This is the same crossing as the one above, taken minutes later from the other side of the tracks. In the distance, the lights of Chynów station.

Below: the crossing between Jakubowizna (foreground) and Chynów on the other side. A loco-hauled InterCity express, the San, bound for Przemyśl rushes through, approaching Chynów station.

All photos taken with my Nikon Coolpix A, hand-held with a one-second exposure (braced but no tripod) at f/2.8. This long-discontinued camera is excellent for nocturnal photography.

This time seven years ago:
Catesby Tunnel

This time nine years ago:
Crumbling King Coal, Katowice

This time ten years ago:
Street cries of Old Poland

This time 11 years ago:
The gorgeousness of Warsaw at dusk

This time 12 years ago:
I'm so glad I'm living in Warsaw

This time 13 years ago:
Candid photography

This time 14 years ago:
Archival photos of Jeziorki's Rampa in action

This time 15 years ago:
Red sky in the morning...

New York City really has it all

As the executor, lawyers and real-estate people left my late parents-in-law apartment, I locked the door after them and ran into the bedroom. I slid open the wardrobe door and beheld my father-in-law's suits. Yes. There it is - the one that caught my eye. Double-breasted, just half a shade of gray lighter than regular, made a whole lot of difference. I tried it on... long in the leg, a bit tight in the shoulder and baggy round the middle... Nice cloth though. Impeccable. Pockets - empty... but, hey! there's another inside pocket, zippered, and inside it... - a slim billfold! Twenties and tens! Time to celebrate.

This is a real swank place downtown - shame it's got to be sold. Such a shame. I can see our future here. I'm admiring the furniture, the bathroom, the view...

I come across an electric iron and my mother-in-law's old sewing box, and so I tuck in the trouser cuffs, iron a crease into them and hold the turn-up with a few pins - just a temporary shortening before taking these to an alteration tailor. I looked in the full-length mirror, yeah, looks OK. I choose a silk tie, cerise in color, and step outside, take the elevator down to the street. The concierge at the front desk gives me a knowing look - bet he's seen the old man wearing this suit before - it catches the eye. 

I head along the sidewalk towards Lower Manhattan. It's a warm Friday afternoon in spring, the Stock Exchange, just a few blocks away, will be closing for business. It's time for some dinner, a grill, steak. A drink or two. There hadn't been time for lunch. As I approach Wall Street, I'm looking at the traffic. Hey - a Rolls-Royce! From England! My eyes follow its progress. Now that's elegance there among the Plymouths and Oldsmobiles and Fords. A news stand. England, eh? I see a pink newspaper standing out from all the others. I buy a copy of yesterday's Financial Times, flown in from London, which I fold up and put under my arm. As I glance down, I notice my shoes are scuffed - they don't go with the suit. Ruin the effect for anyone who'd notice. Shoeshine boys are always around when you don't need them but today - ah, there's one across the street, corner of Broadway and Pine - I take a seat, put my feet up, unfurl my paper and read.

Well - that's interesting ... a piece about the Growing Importance of Leisure ... my father-in-law was telling me about this before they passed. I cast my eye down the boards, which stocks are up, which are down; only a few familiar corporations, all these English firms I don't know, roll my tongue around their quaint-sounding names... Reminded me of my visits over there with the Air Force, and later on a sales visit, demonstrating reconnaissance cameras at the big air show. Shoes done. Not perfect, but then they're not new, but much better than before. Another quarter well spent.

By now, a stream of people is flowing out of the Stock Exchange building. A  fleet of four gray sedans pull up outside - government automobiles, I'd guess... I turn left and merge into the growing tide of humanity leaving their offices. Up a ramp and through the revolving doors, into the lobby of the _____ Hotel. I walk into the bar, take a seat at the last empty table and open my paper again. A waiter comes up, I order a large, very dry, dry martini. It arrives. Yes. Icy and strong. I glance at the menu. Two guys come up an ask if the remaining seats are vacant. "Help yourselves!" 

"I see you're following the English stock market - how are things over there?" "Leisure." I replied. "That's the growth category. People with more time and more money than ever before," I said, repeating what I'd just read. Waiter came over again. One guy ordered a Michelob, the other a Rolling Rock. I ordered a steak, fillet stake, medium rare, with fries, spinach and baked tomatoes. "Oh, and a beer - make it a Rolling Rock. Reminds me of Kentucky."

"Let me introduce myself," said the guy who'd ordered the Michelob. "Henry Bettendorf Jnr," he said, passing me a business card. "From the Buckeye State." His associate did likewise, shaking my hand. "Look - I wasn't intending to engage in commerce this evening..." I mumbled, reaching into the suit's inside pocket, I fished out a my father-in-law's business card that I'd found along with the billfold. "This belonged to my late father-in-law," I said, just showing it to them close-up, but not giving it up. "I'm taking over the business now." They both looked at me, slightly perplexed, looked at each other, looked back at me -

"RRDANK!" What was that sound? "RDANK!" A sudden metallic noise. Jolted. I'm looking around the restaurant... I wake up. It's gone. It's 7:15 am. Monday November 28, 2022. Jakubowizna, Poland. The radiator in my bedroom makes that sound as its steel casing expands, shortly after switching itself on or off. I am annoyed, not least because I really wanted to find out more - how would this dream conclude? It's one of those 'three-unity' dreams, where time, place and action are all consistent; New York City, spring, 1956 or '57? Who had been my parents-in-law? How had they died? Who had I been?

This time last year:
Where the two contracts end

This time last year:
In praise of the Nikon D3500
[The best value-for-money digital single-lens reflex camera ever]

This time three years ago:
Agnieszka Holland's Mr Jones reviewed

This time four years ago:
The Earth is flat

This time five years ago:
50th Anniversary of the Fiat 125p

This time six years ago:
Fidel Castro's death divides the world

This time seven years ago:
London to Edinburgh by night bus

This time nine year ago:
The Regent's Canal, London

This time 11 years ago:
An end to the entitlement way of thinking

This time 12 year:
West Ealing - drab and sad end of town

This time 13 years ago:
To Poznań by train

This time 15 years ago:
Late autumn drive-time 

Win-win-win-win-win

The title of today's post? I'm talking about charity shops. 

Win 1: For people whose houses are full of clothes and items they no longer need - they can take them to a charity shop, thus decluttering their houses, freeing up space.

Win 2: People who donate such items to charity shops have the added satisfaction of feeling that they have done good. Giving away items with a fungible value instead of money. Throwing them away (especially if they can have a second use) is morally reprehensible.

Win 3: People who have a need can be buying things cheaper when used versions can be bought,  entirely adequate to their needs.

Win 4: By paying for an item at the charity shop, the buyer's money is giving to a good cause; the money raised through the sale helps society.

Win 5: The environment gains by re-assigning an unused utility rather than unnecessarily wasting natural resources to create a new one. The circular economy in action.

Case study: when pootling around the house or działka in winter, I like wearing a warm cardigan with a zip at the front and two pockets. I have a cotton one and a fleece one. A third would come in handy. I could also do with another warm shirt with breast pocket. So, finding myself across the road from Warsaw's Westfield Arkadia shopping centre the other week, I popped in to the Sue Ryder Foundation charity shop. I knew it was there, having interviewed the foundation's vice-president in April; Westfield have given the charity some prime space as an act of corporate social responsibility, for which I applaud the company. 

Inside, the shop is well-lit, clean and tidy, and well-staffed by friendly and helpful volunteers - and full of shoppers. I ask an assistant about shirts my size with long sleeves and pockets, and he disappears into the stock room and returns with several for me to look at. Meanwhile I'm looking through a rack of cardigans and find a lovely one -  by Pierre Cardin, in 100% Merino wool. Try them on - they fit - I pay 68zł (49zł for the cardigan, 19zł for the shirt). £12.50 in total. Very happy with both. I check the Cardin Cardigan online - cheapest price is 430zł, regular store price 500zł. So Win 3 for me. The Sue Ryder Foundation has my money to carry on its good work in Poland; no resources had to be used up to generate a new product for me, and the donor has more space in his wardrobe along with the warm feeling of having made a contribution to society.

I don't try to find excitement in the labels that I wear, but there is a sense of satisfaction at bagging such a bargain. [The shirt, incidentally, is from Seven Seas Copenhagen - not a brand I'd heard of, but paying 19zł instead of €20 is a snip.]

My late mother would have loved this cardigan (a word that she'd pronounce kadrygan), especially the deep, rich, thick texture of the wool which she'd have described as mięsisty ('meaty' or 'beefy'), though she'd have preferred a lighter colour. She was also a regular shopper at the charity shops of Ealing - which is where all her clothes ended up after her death.

I cannot recommend charity-shop purchases highly enough. In the UK, I'd buy most of my jackets, coats and trousers from the Children's Society shop on Pitshanger Lane; sadly I'll not be back there in a while (the celebrations of the UK rejoining the EU still being a long way off). So it's good that a decent charity shop exists in Warsaw.

This time last year:
Comfort, discomfort and winter cold

This time two years ago:
Frustration as completion of Chynów station draws near

This four three years ago:
London in verticals

This time five years ago:
Roadblock and railfreight

This time six years ago:
Sunny morning, Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens

This time seven years ago:
Brentham Garden Suburb

This time eight years ago:
Ahead of the opening of the second line of the Warsaw Metro 

This time nine years ago:
Keep an eye on Ukraine...

This time ten years ago:
Płock by day, Płock by night 

This time 11 years ago:
Warning ahead of railway timetable change

This time 14 years ago:
Some thoughts on recycling

Time's Telescope

My walk to the shops this afternoon resulted in 8,000 paces, so another 3,500 or so were in order. Night had long fallen, snow had turned to slush in the rain, so my evening walk was to be strictly along asphalt - up to the end of what was ulica Miodowa, before the level crossing was erased, and back. The street (up the hill and around the corner from where I took the photo below) now ends in a chain-link gate, closing off what was once open access into a couple of orchards. And while standing at this gate, I get a familiar flashback - a curious phenomenon, which I will try to unscramble.

The flashback is through a flashback. I'd describe this like looking at something through an old-fashioned telescope that slides out; like that dolly-zoom movie shot in which the camera zooms in while tracking out. I am simultaneously in my parent's house in 1976, as an 18-year old, and in America around 1950.

Specifically: having waited for the household to be fast asleep, I creep downstairs to watch, very quietly, the Midnight Movie on BBC2 - American film noir from the late 1940s or early 1950s. It's around a quarter of a century after the films were made. I watched many of the greats, in particular John Huston's The Asphalt Jungle and Key Largo, lots more too. As much as I'm feeling the atmosphere - the klimat - of these black and white films, there's also the sense of doing something forbidden (I should be studying for my A-levels!) - while helping myself to a wee dram from my parent's drinks cabinet. 

When I spoke of my flashbacks many years ago, people would tell me that I'm only having a 'memory burp' of a film or films I once saw. But I can easily differentiate between the qualia experiences of watching a movie and Being There. For the flashback-through-a-flashback effect zooms me through my parents' front room back into the America of the '40s and '50s, recreating perfectly the effect I felt then in 1976. I have had many of these time-telescope moments over the decades, a congruence of an earlier experience I can remember in which I have had a flashback moment. The two qualia experiences nest together like cubes in a tesseract.

Always familiar, never frightening, an unambiguously pleasant sensation that lingers briefly before evaporating. Before it does, I try consciously unscrambling and analysing the experience.

But how - and why?

As a child, I felt this. The Janet and John books that were used to teach us to read in the 1960s, were - I discovered much later - based on the Alice and Jerry books published in America. There was one in particular - Five and Half Club - that I must have read aged around seven that flooded me with powerful flashbacks, mainly through the rich illustrations - so different to the greyness of West London at that time. The book didn't make overt reference to the fact that the stories were set in America, but I felt an immediate sense of familiarity and longing.

Why I was I experiencing this? What are the vectors by which consciousness can be non-local? As a child, I considered the analogy of radio. Maybe we are like receivers and transmitters, and brain waves can cross time and space and end up being picked up elsewhere? Later, as I learned about heredity, evolution and DNA, I pondered the notion that fragments of atavistic memory journeyed across the Atlantic and somehow 'infected' me. Then, in adulthood, I considered notions of quantum mechanics - non-locality, superposition and 'which-way information'. Penrose and Hameroff's theory that consciousness is quantum activity within the microtubules within the neurons, rather than something that occurs as a result of electrical signals between the neurons. 

But maybe we live in parallel with another universe, five minutes behind this one, or fifty years ahead of it, and I'm receiving glimmers of it. Or maybe all is being experienced simultaneously - eternalism, or the block universe. There is no past, present and future - everything's happening concurrently, and I catch snippets from other times. But why are they so specific, so rooted in a given place and time?

I still have no clue; I can only intuit. The experience, familiar, pleasant, has lasted since childhood; it is faint, irregular and not easily reproducible - but is real enough for me to know that it means something. It is significant; it is not to be ignored - and I don't believe it can be reduced to something material - or debunked.

This time last year:
Justify the buy: Nikon D5600

[2,990zł a year ago, 3,590zł now]

This time two years ago:
First frost, 2020

This time four years ago:
Edinburgh, again and again

This time eight years ago:
Ahead of the opening of Warsaw's second Metro line

This time nine years ago:
Keep an eye on Ukraine...
(Portents of troubles to come)

This time 10 years ago:
Płock by day, Płock by night 

This time 12 years ago:
Warning ahead of railway timetable change

This time 15 years ago:
Some thoughts on recycling

First proper snow of 2022/23

Below: my drive, my orchard in the snow. The presence of a goodly snowfall is comforting; climate change is not an inexorable process that creeps ever-forward in one dimension. The beauty is overwhelming. Time, then, to leave office work until the evening and go for a walk before dusk falls.

Below: no electricity from my panels today. This is the first day since the installation was plugged in, when zero point zero kilowatt hours were generated.

Off I go, turning left towards Grobice. Below: canonical in the snow. The woods hold no fear. The mind is clear. I see no human tracks in the snow, just the paw-prints of a large dog and a medium-sized dog. 

Below: snow on unpicked apples. I've picked some; sadly, despite their reasonable appearance outside, when cut through, they are bruised from the core outwards.

Below: just south of Grobice as the track from Machcin II winds its way between orchards. Just before this point I see a large dog and a medium-sized dog frolicking in the snow.

Below: that magical moment when the lights come on; Grobice looking west towards Nowe Grobice.

Below: looking down the hill towards Chynów station soon after sunset, orchards on either side of the tracks. Here in 1933-34, the new railway line between Warsaw and Radom cut through farmers' lands; this was then called Kolonia Michałowizna Część II, as I mentioned in a recent post. On the other side of this hill, just behind this point, I saw the tracks of several hares.

Below: Walking up towards my działka, along the asphalt, under the street lights - just enough civilisation necessary to comfort. Were the asphalt to have been extended further, this quiet no-through-road would have become a shortcut for motorists heading east.

Below: "find the true primordial self" - here it is, in its modern vernacular expression, heated and lit by solar electricity. Wonder, and fusion with the universe. And my place in it.

This time last year:

Sleep - a portal to another universe?

This time three years ago:
A month and much progress at Chynów station

This time four years ago:
Tram tips for visiting Edinburgh

This time five years ago:
Warsaw to Edinburgh made easier

This time seven years ago:
Stuffocation: the rich-world problem of dealing with too many things

This time ten years ago:
Heroes on the wall (for my father)

This time 12 years ago:
Tax dodge or public service?

This time 13 years ago:
Warsaw's woodlands in autumn

This time 14 years ago:
Still here, the early snow

This time 15 years ago:
Another point of view

Winter's on its way

Woke up this morning to sunshine and snow lightly falling, a gorgeous sight after nine grey days. Two walks are needed - one to the shop, one to catch the dusk. Below: the Kolberg InterCity train heads south towards Kraków. I just love this Canonical Prospect.

Below: the reverse view - sun and clouds doing battle.

Below: ulica Wspólna, connecting the centre of Chynów, to the station and Jakubowizna across the tracks. Fields on either side of ul. Wspólna are now in winter mode; the orchards mostly picked clean, the straw baled.

The last of the apples are still being picked, the last teams out dropping ripe (and chilled) fruit into pales. Trucks head off to the cold stores. These are supermarket-grade apples below - visually attractive, tasty - but sprayed; best to eat after peeling. My apples, unsprayed, can be eaten together with peel - however, they don't store; what's not been turned into cider is now bruised to the point of inedibility.

Below: sunset's getting earlier and earlier. Barely enough time to wash up after lunch before going for my second walk. Sunset today in Chynów was at 15:39; the earliest is quarter of an hour earlier, from 8 to 16 December, when it sets at 15:24. Looking back towards Jakubowizna.

Below: logging has been going on around here for the past week and half. A pile of tree trunks and branches is visible in the distance. The chainsaws, heavy logging equipment, tractors and trucks have scared off the wildlife, so I don't hold out too much chance of seeing any today. 

Below: out of the forest, into the orchard. This is the one in which I snapped an elk the other week. Today, I came across a young deer at the far end of the row of apple trees - it fled before I could raise my camera to my eye. Incidentally, last week I spoke to a local farmer about seeing the elk; he told me that he hadn't had a sighting in ten years. A female elk and her calf found themselves in his orchard. The mother managed to leap over the fence, the calf couldn't - in the end the farmer used wire-cutters to make an opening in the net fence, allowing the calf to make it back to its anxiously waiting mother on the other side.

Below: these forests are, however, for logging. To the left, three rows of young birch, to the left of them, dense rows of not-so-young pine. An older, mixed, forest to the right.

Below: another of the Canonical Prospects; photographed many a time - but with fewer trees now after the logging. Straight on for Jakubowizna, bear right for Grobice. From here, I'm 15 minutes from home.

Just outside my działka - as the key slips into the lock, there's a sense of elation of being home, into the warmth, into the light. Onto the stove, a leek, potato, tomato and red-pepper stew with lentils, flavoured with Chorizo sausage, cubed Parmesan cheese rind and chives.

A quick check-up on electricity usage. Since the panels were connected to the grid on 12 July, they have generated over 1,050 kWh of power, whilst I have consumed over 650 kWh, which means I can use another 400 kWh before I start borrowing from next spring and summer's surpluses. Yesterday I received 4,000zł subsidy from the government, reducing my capital outlay of 27,500zł for the eight-panel array. A quick glance at my Solis Home app reveals that today's sunshine generated more electricity than the past four days put together - sunny days are profitable as well as good for the soul!

This time five years ago:
Kolej grójecka by Bogdan Pokropiński

This time seven years ago:
PIS, thinking wishfully about the village

This time nine years ago:
An unseasonably warm autumn in Warsaw

This time ten years ago:
Shedding light on an unused road

This time 11 years ago:
S2-S79 Elka from the air 

This time 12 years ago:
Fish and chips in Warsaw

This time 13 years ago:
Spirit of place - anomalous familiarity moments 

The Algorithm of Fate

At half past seven on the morning of Thursday 27 October, I was making breakfast ahead of a scheduled online appearance on TVP World to talk about the UK's new prime minister when the electricity went. No computer, no internet. After ten minutes I could tell that this wasn't going to be a short power cut, so I called the producer to say that sadly I couldn't join the show. Such is life. 

Now, since TVP World (the English-language service of the Polish state broadcaster) launched a year ago, I've been appearing frequently, usually talking about UK-related topics, but now increasingly often about broader world events. Typically, I appear once every five or six days. However, since the power cut and my last-minute cancellation, there was a gap of 16 days before my next invitation. Coincidence or algorithm?

Eighty percent of success is just turning up, observed Woody Allen. One reason why I think I get invited on frequently is that I'm usually available (sometimes I'm just going to be on a train or otherwise away from my laptop when they want me on, but that's rare). That, plus I'm a seasoned media interviewee.

Anyway - how do I explain the hiatus between requests? "That Dembinski is unreliable. He's out in the sticks and his power-supply is dodgy. Look for someone else." Or is this automated? Doubt it. Just the way it is? Coincidence? I'm now back on track, having appeared this morning and five days ago.

Chance throws difficult things at us from time to time. Can we forestall that, or preclude that by thinking about those possibilities? I've pondered the concept of the fact that we are constantly on the Edge of Chaos; Putin's invasion of Ukraine and the pandemic are two such macro-scale chaos events that I have in mind. 

In  the long term - can we forestall, preclude or stave off sudden extinction events such as an asteroid strike, a mega-volcano or mutually assured destruction in an all-out nuclear war? 

If you find yourself consciously in a state of elation - catch yourself and think - life's great right now, but what chaos awaits - as I open the front door and step back into the house after a long day-time walk? As  I open my in-box? 

Meditative thinking, not so much focusing, but being in among with the flow of goodness, can help - but I can't empirically prove it. Of course I can't. I have no data, other than gut instinct. You may say this is mere cognitive bias. I will, however, be more certain of this with age; should I reach my 100th birthday, I will be able to say - "yes, to an extent, you can influence the algorithm of fate". Does it make sense to try and articulate my more speculative intuitions? Or should I keep them to myself and communicate them telepathically?

This time last year:
Non-local consciousness - science and spirituality

This time two years ago:
Fenced in at last

This time five years ago:
Poznań's Old Market

This time six years ago:
Brexit, Trump and negative emotions

This time 11 years ago:
Premier Tusk's second exposé

This time 12 years ago:
Into Poland's former Heart of Darkness

This time 13 years ago:
Commuter schadenfreude

The Old Name of western Jakubowizna

Many thanks to @J_MZed for reminding me of the excellent website igrek.amzp.pl - a digital repository of historical maps of central and eastern Europe. I used this resource extensively while researching the Wałbrzych Gold Train seven years ago (Gosh! Time flies!) Since then, I bought my działka in Jakubowizna, but I hadn't thought of looking at the area around Chynów on old maps - until now.

The big revelation for me is that my acre is situated in what was called... Michałowizna. Yes, Jakubowizna (which for a village of its size is long, nearly a kilometre and half from east to west) was once two villages. Michałowizna, nearer the railway line, and Jakubowizna, further away. Let's take a look at a pre-war map of the area. This is a Polish military map, scale 1:100,000, from 1937 (below). The railway, built just three years earlier, bisects the territory; we see Chynów on one side, and Michałowizna on the other, Jakubowizna further to the east (today it borders with the railway). Węszelówka was spelt 'Wenszelówka'; Stanisławów is now Machcin II. The number by each settlement indicates the number of households (gospodarstwo) therein. (Click to enlarge images.)

The map below is chilling. Printed in April 1941, when this part of Poland was occupied by Stalin's erstwhile ally, Nazi Germany. It clearly suggests that the Red Army was preparing to attack Hitler around this time (but Hitler attacked first). This is a tactical map, scale 1:50,000. Again, we can see Chynów (XbIHYB), with Michałowizna on the other side of the tracks. Number of households per settlement has been copy-pasted from the Polish 1937 map.

Post-war, Michałowizna was still there - the map below is from 1951. We can see the number of households has changed from pre-war days; Chynów has lost three, Wola Chynowska (now a part of Chynów) has gained seven; Michałowizna has more than doubled from four to nine.

Further north, at the top edge of this map, we can see work in progress on Stalin's strategic east-west railway line - Skierniewice-Łuków - which crosses under the Warsaw-Radom line at Czachówek. The east-west line was opened in May 1954. Interesting to see that the 'diamond' at Czachówek was only built out to the east, not yet allowing any connections to or from the west.

A bit more googling and I come across the only mention of Michałowizna in the neighbourhood of Chynów - from a 1933 document amending mistakes made in an earlier document that listed the compulsory purchase of land for the building of the Warsaw-Radom railway. This names landowners all the way down from Dawidy and Jeziorki to the northern fringes of Radom. And of course Chynów gets a namecheck, as does Sułkowice, Widok, Krężel and other settlements along the railway's route. Highlighted is Kolonia Michałowizna, divided into Część I (which I take to be the part nearer the station) and Część II, and the names of the landowners (Jan Pielaszek and Józef Zdziarski respectively). I wonder if they survived the war? Or if their descendants still own land around here? I noticed that Jakubowizna isn't mentioned at all - it's too far to the east of Michałowizna to have been affected by the building of the railway line.

So! A fascinating historical coincidence. Western Jakubowizna was once Michałowizna! Linguistic note: the suffix -izna or -szczyzna is used to turn adjectives into nouns; 'Jakubowski' is not only a surname, it also reflects that which belongs to Jakub. So ziemie Jakubowskie, or the lands owned by Jakub, become Jakubowizna. And with that, I shall revert the name of my działka to its original: Michałowizna.

This time last year:
Dealing with the Hammer of Darkness
(Go to bed one hour earlier - ignore the time change)

This time five years ago:
Poland's dream of a superconnector hub
(Looks like it's died)

This time six years ago:
The magic of superzoom

This time ten years ago:
Welcome to Lemmingrad

This time 12 years ago:
Dream highway

This time 13 years ago:
The Days are Marching

This time 15 years ago:
First snow, 2007

On Etymology

Etymology (n) The study of the historical development of languages, particularly as manifested in individual words; the origin and historical development of a word; the derivation. 

From  the Latin etymologia, from Ancient Greek ἐτυμολογία (etumología), from ἔτυμον (étumon, 'true sense') and -λογία (-logía, 'study of'), from λόγος (lógos, 'word' or 'explanation').

September, 1967. A warm day in late summer in my back garden on Croft Gardens, Hanwell, West London. Our neighbour, Janet, comes to visit me. She is two years above me and has just started her first year at secondary school. We're chatting; I casually remark that something is 'fabulous'.

"Umm!" she replied. "Our teacher says you're not allowed to say 'fabulous' because it comes from the word that means a tale told long ago!" "A fable?" I asked. "Yes", she said. I pondered on this for a while; I had indeed read books of fables but had not connected the word 'fable' with the word 'fabulous'. Nor indeed 'fantastic' with 'fantasy'...

Once I started grammar school, we had the most rigorous teacher of English who introduced us to the concept of (and woe betide any boy who couldn't define or spell) etymology. At the same time, I started learning Latin and French, and new linguistic connections were made, helped out by my knowledge of Polish. This, for example, helped me guess the meaning of châtaigne (chestnut, via the Polish kasztan) or requin (shark, via the Polish rekin). The Latin lessons also came in handy for learning the etymological roots of many words common to English, French and indeed Polish. Sadly, I didn't come into the remotest contact with Ancient Greek, though this is just as handy for an appreciation of etymological roots of modern words as is Latin. 

My father was curious about etymologies, and would ask me from time to time whether I thought word x shared a common root with word y in another language. To the end of his life, he kept a well-thumbed dictionary at his bedside. The book had small Post-It notes inside, and the letter of the alphabet written in highlighter pen on the facing edge.

Happily, along came the internet and with it online dictionaries, thesauruses and other tools to help the linguistically curious. And not just in English; the Oxford English Dictionary, the principle historical dictionary of the language, has been overtaken by Wiktionary in terms of ease of use and speed of update. Not as authoritative, but it is nicely comprehensive. Its Polish equivalent, wolny słowniki wielojęzyczny Wikisłownik carries (here and there) some rudimentary details (often from the online but decidedly clunky Wielki Słownik Języka Polskiego).

All this helps us vastly (or should do!) when it comes to precise writing. Communicating complex thoughts, rich in nuance, requires a reasonable grasp of etymology. We should dive in and check not just a meaning, not just look for synonyms, but discover the etymology too.

Languages evolve; the process of linguistic evolution has been described as memetic in nature. Just as genes carry information from one generation to the next, so memes are the means by which ideas spread. A joke, a gesture, a fashion, a trope, a concept, a saying - if it passes the test of fitness for purpose, if it is reproduced from person to person, it will spread like a virus. It helps if the originator has high status within the group hierarchy, then their idea will travel further and faster. Hence, influencer.

The word meme itself is a neologism coined by Richard Dawkins, in his 1976 book The Selfish Gene. He wrote: "We need a name for the new replicator, a noun that conveys the idea of a unit of cultural transmission, or a unit of imitation. 'Mimeme' comes from a suitable Greek root, but I want a monosyllable that sounds a bit like 'gene'. I hope my classicist friends will forgive me if I abbreviate mimeme to meme. It should be pronounced to rhyme with 'cream'." So there we have it.

This time last year:
Free will, determinism, and the supernatural

This time two years ago:
Hammer of Darkness cubed

This time four years ago:
Magic day, in and around Jakubowizna

This time five years ago:
Warsaw-London-Ealing

This time seven years ago:
With my father and brother in Derbyshire

This time nine years ago:
In praise of Warsaw's trams

This time 12 years ago:
Setting sun in the mountains

This time 13 years ago:
That learning moment

Paranormal, supernatural and metaphysical

We live in a material world; when you punch a brick wall it hurts - the strong nuclear force holding the atoms that constitute the brick and your fist see to that. Your fist does not pass effortlessly through the wall. Yet particle physics - subatomic science - suggests that it should do.

We now know that each of the individual atoms in brick and fist are merely clouds of probabilities - nothing more than electrons orbiting nuclei; shells that are largely empty. Imagine a hydrogen atom blown up to the size of the dome of St Paul's Cathedral. If a single pea in the middle of that hemisphere represents the nucleus, a single grain of sand in motion around it, representing the electron, would form a cloud that reaches all the way out to the ceiling of the dome. Look carefully at that cloud to find the electron - you can either determine its position (but not its velocity) or its velocity (not its position). 

So down at the subatomic level, our intuitive notions of what is 'material' and 'physical' break down. Quantum mechanics tells us that the grain of sand is both a particle and a wave - until we look at it. Then, confronted by a conscious observer - it becomes one or the other. And then there is quantum entanglement - Einstein's 'spooky action at a distance' - separate two entangled atoms by whatever distance, and when the electron in one spins one way, the corresponding electron in the other will spin the other way*. This isn't anything that we can grasp at our scale, in the way that we instinctively get Newtonian billiard balls bouncing off each other.

Our day-to-day lives are normal, natural and physical. I lift a glass of water off my table. Three separate things. Glass, water and table. I bring the glass to my lips and drink the water. We know how this world of ours functions. So do other living organisms. Watch a dog catching a stick in mid-air; it calculates the speed and trajectory of the stick and leaps up, jaws open, to snatch it at the right moment. Yet the dog has no knowledge of laws of motion or trigonometry. It's instinctive. 

Solids, liquids, gases and plasma - our world has been made clear to us by centuries of scientific progress - there is no need for the paranormal, supernatural or metaphysical to explain the phenomena we witness each day.

However, the science that we've come to depend upon for our comfortable standard of living, the science that has brought us electricity - bright, warm homes and much more - is beginning to realise that there's much that we don't know. 

Is consciousness a fundamental property of the Universe - or an emergent property that exists only within the brains of highly evolved creatures? What is dark matter? What is dark energy? Is the speed of light an absolute limit? What happened before the Big Bang? How will the Universe end? Why do physical constants seem to be fine-tuned for life? How (and why!) did the jump from non-life to life occur?

As old certainties begin to break down at the edges of science, so the fringes start to creep back; that which was once considered 'flaky woo-woo' and 'mystical pseudoscience' begin to take on a new respectability. Our old folk-beliefs in elves and pixies in the dark forests return as little green men in UFOs hovering over our houses. Though I've never seen a UFO, nor do things go bump in the night when I'm around. I live surrounded by orchards, forests and fields and feel no fear when it's dark.

[Here I insert a paragraph referring to the asterisk above:]

* I was just contemplating this when I had a sudden unbidden flashback. To two places at the same time. Both happen to be in Buckinghamshire. One: the A40 Oxford Road, approaching Denham from the west on a summer evening; the other: the A41 as it passes the former RAF base at Westcott, heading towards Bicester, a winter afternoon. Bare hedgerows. Instant, precise, entirely congruous with the qualia I had once experienced as I drove past. It took me a moment or two to unscramble the locations, but I did so successfully. The experience felt utterly real; I have trained myself to return to the original qualia moments and define them, to nail them down in place and time. And yet the real unexplainable anomaly is when the same phenomenon occurs - instantly familiar, an experience I've consciously experienced - but it is not from this life. This is my mystery to unravel.

If there is anything inexplicable that happens in my day-to-day life, it's not witnessing UFOs or cryptozoological life forms; rather, it is located in my dreams and flashbacks (aka the  déjà vu). 

Take a look at how hard materialist-reductionist science tries to rationalise away my experiences as described above: [from Wikipedia]

"Déjà vu - the feeling that one has lived through the present situation before. It is an anomaly of memory whereby, despite the strong sense of recollection, the time, place, and practical context of the 'previous' experience are uncertain or believed to be impossible. Two types of déjà vu are recognized: the pathological déjà vu usually associated with epilepsy or that which, when unusually prolonged or frequent, or associated with other symptoms such as hallucinations, may be an indicator of neurological or psychiatric illness, and the non-pathological type characteristic of healthy people, about two-thirds of whom have had déjà vu experiences. People who travel often or frequently watch films are more likely to experience déjà vu than others. Furthermore, people also tend to experience déjà vu more in fragile conditions or under high pressure, and research shows that the experience of déjà vu also decreases with age.

This is just not right; the above paragraph sounds like an 18th century treatise on phlogiston or aether. It's an attempt to explain something away, something mysterious that occurs to many minds but is far from universal.

We are but adolescents, beginning to grasp the fact that our understanding of the physical world around us is limited - there are far greater wonders woven into the fabric of the Cosmos than we currently allow ourselves to admit to. In the meanwhile, my search continues.

This time last year:
Governments' actions and climate change

This time seven years ago:
Cultural differences - PL & UK in the country

This time eight years ago:
Schadenfreude! The downfall of Hofman & Co.

This time nine years ago:
From the Mersey to the Tyne

This time ten years ago
Autumnal Gdańsk

This time 11 years ago:
What Independence Day means for Poles

This time 12 years ago:
Words fail me: what's the Polish for 'to fail'?

This time 13 years ago:
Autumn in Dobra

This time 15 years ago:
Autumn ploughing

Sunny Sunday meditations

Once the morning fog had lifted, the day turned out to be perfect for a long walk, a walk long enough to gather thoughts and connect with the Infinite and Eternal. It had rained all day yesterday - drizzle at first, then heavier rain, but the puddles had all but dried as I set off. Here and there, some unfenced, unharvested orchards; I picked up some pears and a few apples for home juicing. 

Below: the X. Canonical Prospect - the fork in the road. Right to Adamów Rososki, left towards Grabina. I take the track towards Grabina, though I would be turning north to Kozłów. 

Below: my first visit to Kozłów, a featureless village lying to the north of Adamów Rososki. Kozłów felt like time has stood still for half a century or more; little investment or signs of life, unlike its neighbour to the south, full of renovated działki and newly built houses with solar panels. Nevertheless, the golden-topped silver birches look resplendent at this time of year in the strong sunlight.

Below: I turn left off the main (unasphalted) road running though Kozłów and take a sandy path through a wood that will take me to the DK50 via ulica Graniczna (lit. 'border street') - the border between Powiat Piaseczyński/Gmina Góra Kalwaria to the east and Powiat Grójecki/Gmina Chynów to the west. Before long, I can hear the traffic on the main road ahead of me.

Left: a little earlier I had espied this white horse between two rows of harvested apple trees with Grobice in the background. Horses have become quite a rarity in rural Poland today. Somehow, I feel they will be making a comeback in tomorrow's quieter, slower, drabber, greener world. 

Last autumn I spotted an elk through the rows of such an orchard, a sight that's not been repeated.

On, on to the DK50 for a sudden reconnection with an anomalous familiarity:

Looking west towards the afternoon sun, low in the autumn sky, that old connection with the past. A bit of digital darkroom decision-making here - go for black & white? No longer what I saw and felt in the moment, but the impression left by looking at old photos. Is this Kentucky? Are we in rural Ohio? No. This is Warsaw's de facto southern ring road, looking towards Grobice. To the right - Sułkowice.

Below: looking up towards the road bridge over the Warsaw-Radom railway line, to the right the slip roads to and from the BP petrol station. Purest Americana.

Below: turning in to the BP petrol station, which is currently in the middle of a remont - the refrigerators have been removed, there's only a few items of food and drink on sale and it looks like the new toilets will have turnstile access. I ask when the new-look store will be ready, the assistant shrugged her shoulders and said that work happens when it happens. The building to the left is the bistro part of the petrol station, a popular wedding venue in summer.

As I re-enter Chynów's orbit, the colours return; it's 2022 again. Below: another of the Canonical Prospects. Neighbours out walking.

Below: at the end of the newly-named ul. Owocowa, nearly home. A little further up the hill. A good walk today, with over 14,000 paces on the clock. Time to express gratitude.

UPDATE: 7 November 2022: I spotted a juvenile female elk in a corridor between two neglected orchards. Taken 20 minutes past sunset, hand-held, 1.3 seconds at f/6.3, 70-300mm zoomed all the way out to 300mm (450mm in 35mm equivalent). ISO 1600. It shows just how bloody good the Nikon lens's image stabilisation is.

This time six years ago:
To Dawidy Bankowe, Łady, Zamienie and back

This time 11 years ago:
Town planning and the Sublime Aesthetic

This time 12 years ago:
On the long road from Zero to One

This time 13 years ago:
Łódź Rising