Cleaning it up

I love this! Bringing together local folk to voluntarily clean their roadsides, the ditches and the forests of all the rubbish that mindless brudasi dump there. This is pure win-win-win. It's establishing relations between neighbours based on trust and cooperation; it's making the neighbourhood aesthetically more pleasing; and it's restoring nature to its original condition. A great initiative that I was delighted to be a part of.

I answer the call of Stowarzyszenie Przyjaciół Gminy Chynów (the association of friends of the Chynów municipality). Along with 12 other people of all ages, we meet up to pick up bin bags set off to conduct a sweep of the highways and the hedges from Chynów down to the level crossing at Węszelówka and back along ulica Kolejowa. Three kilometres (probably more if one includes forays deeper into the forest to recover car-parts and other larger items) in total.

Below: strung out along ulica Spokojna, between Chynów and Węszelówka, picking up the beer cans, vodka bottles, cigarette packets, energy-drink tins, ice-cream wrappers and other detritus that local litter-louts and passing motorists have deposited along the roadside. The enfilthification of our beautiful land ends here! [Incidentally, we learn that this stretch of road, all the way to Piekut, will get asphalt at last. Hurrah!]

Below: in action. Drivers tipping crap out of their cars, householders chucking out their waste, the outdoor drinking community leaving their feldalkohol receptacles behind them. Bag after bag gets filled – blue, yellow, green and black.

Below: a culvert under the railway line, spotless after the cleaning. Someone saw this as a good place to leave their household waste. It isn't. Don't do this.

Pristine forest. It deserves to stay this way, and not be turned into a dump for old household appliances, furniture, car parts and builders' rubble.

Below: at prearranged spots, full bags of segregated rubbish are left to be collected by a car sent round by the municipality along the route of our walk.

And a big thank you to Ewa Bolek, Kawiarnia terapeutyczna Ciocia Halinka and Stowarzyszenie Przyjaciół Gminy Chynów for this most excellent initiative and to Hotel Chynów for sponsoring the social event at the end of the cleaning-up session. I look forward to the next one!

[Something I noted that shows social maturity – over glasses of nalewka and Polish wines, there was much lively discussion among neighbours, in particular about local issues, but no mention of tomorrow's presidential election. Thus the potential of someone souring the atmosphere was avoided, and everyone was happy.]

I look forward to a repeat of this event; a few of us suggested that we conduct a sweep of ul. Wspólna (from Chynów station to the church); I reckon a yield of half a tonne of małpki (100ml and 200ml vodka bottles) can be obtained along with a short detour down ul. Ogrodowa.

 "What we gotta do as the people – we got to get together and clean that up" – James Brown, Talkin' Loud And Sayin' Nothing.

This time last year:
Ciechanów

This time six years ago:
It's the 31st of May and where's the viaduct?

This time eight years ago:
My mother's school – subject of exhibition at national army museum
(from June 2025-September 2026 it's showing at Kraków's Schindler's Factory museum)

This time nine years ago:
Stormy end to May

This time ten years ago:
Where's it better to live: London or Warsaw?

This time 11 years ago:
Jeziorki, magic hour, late-May

This time 13 years ago:
Świdnica, one of Poland's lesser-known pearls

This time 16 years ago:
Spirit of place

Letters to an Imaginary Grandson (II)

There will come a day when people will no longer be telling you what to do. When to wake up, when to go to school, what subjects to study, when your essay has to be in by. Teachers and parents will one day no longer be giving you orders. You alone will decide what to do with your time. Yes, you will need a job to pay for food, clothes and housing. But you will choose that job, not your parents nor your teachers.

The Lebanese poet Khalil Gibran says that raising children is like firing a bow from an arrow; for parents, the force with which they pull back the bowstring, the direction in which they point the bow and its angle of elevation will all determine where the arrow will land. But once the arrow has been loosed from the bow, they no longer have any further influence over its subsequent trajectory. 

You will one day be that arrow, shot from your parents' bow. You are on your own now, their work as archers done.

So – thinking about that day, you are thinking of your freedom, to do furthermore as you will. But who then will define your goals? Who will fill your day with tasks? Who will set deadlines? Will it be you? 

The difference between winners and losers lies entirely in self-discipline. Training, practice, rehearsal. Getting in your ten thousand hours needed to achieve mastery. You have to be tough on yourself. It will be no use outsourcing that to someone else. Laziness and procrastination are signs of weakness and will result in poor life outcomes. Failing to plan is planning to fail. You will not make the most of your potential.

But pushing yourself too hard – especially in pursuit of purely material goals – is also harmful. Finding that balance between taking it easy and charging on willfully is crucial. Stress starts to hurt when you can no longer cope with everything on your plate. Living with long-term stress has negative effects on physical and mental health. But having no stresses at all, no aims, no ambitions, is also dangerous. The concept of 'eustress' – good stress – is useful. Enough that you can cope with. Everyone has a limit of how much stress they can tolerate before it overcomes them. For some it's higher, for other its far lower. It is important to define that limit for yourself, through experience.

That limit changes over life. The maximum you can cope with peaks in your mid-20s to mid-40s. You are physically at your most robust. Later, you will need to settle back and learn to enjoy the fruits of your efforts. Materially made, it's then time to contemplate more elevated matters. And here, again, it must be you that determines what you pursue and at what pace. The balance between rigour and taking it easy. The balance needs to be struck; you need to define when it is that you are genuinely tired and are in need of rest – and when you are just feeling lazy. And when you identify yourself as just feeling lazy, you are the only one who can get your arse in gear.

Self-discipline is built around structuring your day so that time doesn’t evaporate before you know it. First thing in the morning – write it down. What you have to do, and when you should do it by. Set yourself goals and deadlines. Get into this habit as soon as you can and stick to it. Be consistent. Day in, day out. Whether it’s written down on paper or recorded digitally – this doesn’t matter. What counts is that this behaviour becomes habitual. At the end of each day, you become your own judge, your own taskmaster. What didn’t get accomplished that day, put forward to the next day – and at least this way, you are aware of your own procrastination. When you see a task getting kicked down the road, you know there’s a problem. Deal with it; get it sorted or outsource it to someone else.

Writing it down is one of the most important habits you can have. A pocket notebook that’s always with you to jot down your thoughts. A desk notebook with your day’s tasks mapped out. 

You are in charge of yourself. 

This time last year:
"Fill the edge of your bed with pebbles"

This time two years ago:
De-growth: A personal manifesto, Pt II

This time three years ago
Old signs in Wrocław and Gliwice

This time four years ago:
Are aliens good or bad?

This time five years ago:
Thoughts – trains set in motion

This time seven years ago:
Great crested grebes and swans hatch

This time nine years ago:
Jeziorki birds in the late May sunshine

This time ten years ago:
Making sense of Andrzej Duda's win

This time 14 years ago:
A walk down ul. Gogolińska

This time 17 years ago:
Twilight in the garden

This time 18 years ago:
Late-May reflections

Birdland

It's been a year since I downloaded Cornell Labs' Merlin Bird ID software to my phone (thanks for the suggestion Ian S!). Since then, I've been using it to identify bird calls and songs when out and about on my walks. Today, I took the trouble to create a spreadsheet and make a note of the local birdlife that the app has identified. Turns out I have 45 different species of bird within walking distance of my działka. The most common (and also my favourite in terms of its song) is the Eurasian blackbird; the chaffinch, chiffchaff, blackcap and song thrush occupy the rest of the top five places. Rarities include the short-toed treecreeper and the Eurasian green-winged teal, both of whose calls I have only recorded but once over the past year.

Below: a bird that's not present on the British Isles, whose call is easily identified – the hoopoe (Upupa epops, or dudek in Polish). Hoopoes are notable for their crown of feathers which can be raised or lowered at will; they sunbathe by spreading out their wings and tail low against the ground, which can be seen on the lower two photos (taken at extreme range, so poor resolution). Open heathland, forests and orchards are the hoopoe's habitat.

Using this app regularly has given me new insights into the natural habitat of where I live, and allows me to observe birdlife around me. I particularly like the songbirds – not one-note wonders like the hoopoe or woodpigeon, but birds whose richly varied range of notes suggest a lexicon of meanings, syntactically structured to reflect what the singer is experiencing. Here, the Eurasian blackbird comes top, with the song thrush and nightingale thrush coming close. I wonder how long it will be before AI unravels the code.

Below: a juvenile female deer encountered in the forest. We stood like this for a moment or two before she turned round and bounded back in the direction from which she came at top speed.

"Sometimes you find a yearning for the quiet life/The country air and all its joys"

This time two years ago:
De-growth – a personal manifesto

This time two years ago:
Start Late, Finish Late - more on the Speed of Life

This time eight years ago:
Swans' way

This time nine years ago:
Sam Smith, Shepherd Neame and the Routemaster bus

This time 11 years ago:
Rainy night in Jeziorki – no flood this time!

This time 12 years ago:
Wide-angle under Pl. Wilsona

This time 13 years ago:
Ranking a better life

This time 14 years ago:
Questions about our biology and spirituality

This time 15 years ago:
Paysages de Varsovie

This time 16 years ago:
Spring walk, twilight time

The pareidolias of smell

We know about pareidolia – seeing the face of Jesus on a tortilla, a cloud as a mounted General Custer, or a pyramid on Mars. Last Friday week I noted down the term 'pareidolia of smell' to refer to when you sniff an aroma that reminds you of something else entirely... Two weeks later, I experience just that. I had washed out a one-kilo plastic bucket that had contained Lidl's sauerkraut with carrot (a dietary staple of mine). I reuse these buckets to store spent coffee grounds, which make for an excellent fertiliser. Anyway, the plastic bucket was on the dish-rack on the draining board; I lifted it up to check if it was dry, held it to my nose for a sniff.

And wow.

Suddenly, I was getting the smell of a Greyhound Bus terminus somewhere in America, and the date came to me clearly... it was 1947. A smell that compounded cleaning fluid, stale tobacco, sweaty bodies and diesel fumes wafting in. The moment evaporated in a flash, but I experienced it. Below: for a second, I was here.

More common ones are the smell of my morning coffee, brewed in a Bialetti moka pot, which reminds me of the Italian café on Gray's Inn Road, opposite the Eastman Dental Clinic. It was here I had my first proper Italian coffee and pizza before crossing the street for orthodontic treatment. The smell in my kitchen each morning triggers that memory. And again, AI captures the scene it perfectly. This was it!  Can you smell it?

And another new one; recently I noticed that the teabags I'd been throwing out with the food waste onto the compost heap at the end of the garden do not biodegrade. So I've started doing something my father used to do – let them dry out, then snip the bags and tip out the dry leaves. I drink a lot of Herbapol fruit teas, which are 100% dried fruit – sour cherry and raspberry/cranberry infusions. Once dry and in the bucket, the smell reminds me of the pantry in our kitchen in Ealing, a 1930s built-in cupboard made of oak, full of sweet things beloved by my mother – jams and the like. Again, the smell is a perfect match that triggers the exact memory every time.

One more that occurred about a week ago; half past three in the morning, I wake up for a pee, and let Wenusia out. I open the front door; it's about an hour before dawn, there's a soft drizzle outside, and quite chilly. The smell of air, the petrichor, takes me back to a magical time and place beyond my current experience. I try to replicate it by opening the front door on subsequent nights but never quite get those same precise qualia. Now, from the scientific point of view, are my olfactory organs detecting a molecule-for-molecule match? And comparing them – without my conscious bidding – to qualia memories from childhood and youth, stored in some part of my amygdala? 

And another. Walking between Adamów Rososki and Grabina, I pass an orchard being sprayed with chemicals. The smell reminds me of the precise smell of the cardboard used in the warehouses in which I did holiday jobs in the 1970s – either Pilot-Taylor Gauges of Coventry of Siemens Electronics on the Great West Road, London.

At this time of year, my rural walks are bountiful when it comes to smells; floral scents in particular that waft through the air in corridors; I notice a scent, it intensifies, passes; I walk back a few paces to catch it at its most intense, consider it, memorise it, before walking on. So important. 

Marcel Proust's madeleines made famous in À la recherche du temps perdu; involuntary memory, triggered by the sensory experience of a smell conjure up qualia moments from the past. And, I hold that for me at least, those qualia memories can extend beyond my own lifetime.

This time last year:
Qualia compilation 7: Motorways at night, Yorkshire

[Here, an unbidden memory from 50 years ago unlocks memories from past life.]

This time three years ago:
Interstices (junction of S7 and S2 expressways just ahead of its opening to traffic)

This time four years ago:
Joys of Spring

This time five years ago:
Jeziorki in May

This time six years ago:

Spitalfields and Smithfields – more from London

This time eight years ago

That tune going round your head now...

This time nine years ago:
The eyes... the eyes... 

This time ten years ago:
New old terminal open at Okęcie airport

This time 12 years ago:
Arrogance vs. humility 

This time 13 years ago:
Warsaw looking good ahead of the football-fan influx

This time 14 years ago:
Heron over Jeziorki

This time 18 years ago:
Present rising, future loading

Cutting the cholesterol: drugs, diet or exercise?

On Tuesday I had a blood test done. This morning, the cardiologist assigned to me called with the results. "In general, very good. LDL cholesterol is down significantly, but still needs to be lower". Saying this, she prescribed me yet another (ninth!) drug to be taking daily. This is Etibax (ezetimibe). It will be working together with a statin, Roswera, which I've been taking since my heart attack. The statin reduces the amount of cholesterol the body produces; the ezetimibe works by blocking absorption of cholesterol from the small intestine. Taken together, the two mean that less cholesterol makes it into the bloodstream to clog up the heart.

So – after my heart attack, my LDL (that's the 'bad cholesterol') level was 151mg/dl. It's now down to 80mg/dl. But as someone at high risk of further heart attacks, it needs to be below 55mg/dl. By adding ezetimibe to my daily drug intake, the cardiologist expects that I will reach that target.

Then what? Am I condemned to swallowing nine pills a day at the current dosages? I've started looking at my diet like never before. 

Stuff that's bad: saturated fats, found in red meat, butter and cheese. Red meat is something I've relegated to 'rare treat' status years ago; butter I've just quit (replacing it with ProActiv cholesterol-reducing spread; 30g a day can reduce LDL cholesterol by 7% to 10% within a few weeks). Google Gemini says that it works differently to statins  or ezetimibe; "plant sterols/stanols can provide an additional LDL-lowering benefit complementing the effects of the meds. I have stepped up porridge consumption from two to seven bowls a week, one every morning. It will, confirms Gemini, "definitely contribute to your LDL cholesterol reduction goals." Oatmeal, it says, "provides a very significant and scientifically proven dose of beta-glucan". To the porridge I add pumpkin and sunflower seeds, which provide more beneficial fats, fibre, plant sterols and antioxidants, all of which contribute to better lipid profiles and overall cardiovascular health. And sprinkled with ground milk-thistle (ostropest), which offers "liver-support properties and general antioxidant  content". Otherwise, more fruit, more veg, more legumes (kidney beans, lentils and chickpeas). And avoid the fatty skin of duck (another favourite).

Exercise? The cardiologist said I should avoid exercises that exceed my safe limit for heartbeats per minute, which she said was 175 minus my age, so 108. Using my pulse-oximeter clipped to my right index finger while holding the plank, I could see the BPM steadily rising minute after minute; I quit at five minutes, at which time my heart rate was 90 beats per minute. So that's comfortably safe. Back extensions ditto. Slowly, I shall add more and varied exercises to the daily routine. 

Walking? Best thing possible. Since leaving hospital, I've increased my daily average to over 13.5k paces a day, though walking slower than before and usually doing two shorter loops rather than straying too far from home. Faster paces, with the Nordic walking poles, will resume after further consultation with the cardiologist.

Below: in such a landscape, in spring, it's impossible not to heed the call of a decent, healthy walk.

And a side point: AI has really stepped in as a trusted health advisor. This is not an area where it is prone to hallucinate – large language models have been trained on a vast corpus of medical literature (plenty of links to clinical trials and academic studies). As well as plenty of sober caveats. All in all, really helpful stuff, the promise of expert systems (which my brother was telling me about 40 years ago as he did his postgrad studies in AI) finally arrives.

Drugs, diet or exercise? All three. Can I do without the drugs? I'd like to reduce my intake to the minimum, but cutting them out altogether is not a realistic goal, I fear. Belief in the power of belief is vital. Overarching. A positive expectation, optimism, mind over matter. If I believe in the pills, they will work. If I believe they are harming me, they might well end up doing just that.

So – the key over the next few months will be to get that LDL cholesterol level down to around 50mg/dl –  and keep it there – for life!

This time last year:
Świnoujście – slight return

This time two years ago:

Czachówek Wschodni and its new, raised, platform

This time three years ago:
S7 extension progress

This time two years ago:
Town and country

This time nine years ago:
Beautiful May Sunday

This time ten years ago:
Three days – three Polish cities

This time 13 years ago:
Part two of short story The Devil Is In Doubt

This time 14 years ago:
"A helpful, friendly people"

This time 15 years ago:
A familiar shape in the skies

This time 16 years ago:
Feel like going home

This time 17 years ago:
Mr Hare comes to call

Letters to an Imaginary Grandson (I)

I never knew my grandfathers; both died in the Second World War. As a child, I'd wonder what it would be like to have a grandfather around – to be honest, for the extra pocket money or an occasional super present. Yet with hindsight, of far greater value to me would have been getting good advice from someone with three decades' more experience and wisdom than my parents had.

What would I tell my grandson? I'd start by explaining that, like all human beings, he has a dual nature. A wise, spiritual side – compassionate, patient and conscious; and a foolish, childish side – impulsive and self-centred. Both of these natures are present in the child in roughly equal measures. But then along comes puberty, bringing on changes that tend to suppress that conscious side. Adolescents are biologically incapable of thinking long-term. They do silly things that they come to regret. 

It is important, then, for the child to be aware of his awareness, to notice, to observe, to be able to quietly sense and experience pure intuitions, unclouded by the ego. To understand as much as possible about the challenges and possibilities that life holds – before the onset of puberty and the fogging of the brain by adolescent hormones which cloud judgement for several years.

Growing up, I was indeed aware of being both mądry Michaś and głupi Michaś (wise Mikey and silly Mikey). The latter child generated memories that embarrass me still, many decades later, whilst memories of the former's early insights remind me that my body may have altered over time, but my consciousness abides, true and perceptive. 

What is life all about then? It certainly is a miracle. The chances that every single one of your ancestors survived and mated successfully are infinitesimally small. Ten to the power of minus thirty three. Something like that. Go back through the generations to the earliest Homo sapiens, then to the first hominids, to the first mammalians, to the first creatures that crawled on dry land, to the aquatic fauna that lived in the Cambrian-era seas, to the single-cell organisms that were the only form of life on earth for a billion years... going all the way back to the very first thing that could be called life, and capable of reproduction – every one of those matings was successful. Despite several global extinction events, diseases, predation, accidents, and in our human times, wars. The odds of that chain being unbroken, from the very first life form on our planet (the first common universal ancestor) to you, are orders of magnitude greater than the number of stars in the universe. 

And yet, here you are.

Here you are indeed. Why? Accident of birth? A random, meaningless event that just... sort of... happened? Your life – indeed, all life – indeed, the entire universe – meaningless? Or meaningful? Meant to be. Despite odds that are literally incalculable, that number suggests that yes, there is a purpose, you have a purpose – you just have to find it.

So find your own way, find your place, find your voice, find who you are, find your aesthetic – your style, your preferences in art and music and architecture. Find what period in history most resonates with you. What fascinates you. What arouses your curiosity. Find your mission in life; for if there is one overarching commandment, it is for you to fulfil your potential. Don't let your talents go to waste.

This time last year:
Szczecin in the morning

This time five years ago:
Poland, the UK, Covid-19, lockdown and economic recovery

This time six years ago:
Electric cars for hire by the minute
[Long gone from Warsaw streets.]

This time nine years ago:
Mszczonów – another railway junction

This time 13 years ago:
The Devil is in Doubt - short story, part I

This time 14 years ago:
Storm clouds are raging all around my door

This time 15 years ago:
Floods endanger Warsaw

This time 16 years ago:
Coal line rarity

Mornings With My Cat Mii – review

 A lovely convalescence present from my sister-in-law (thank you so much Jane!), this translation of the modern Japanese classic about the relationship between human and feline thoroughly resonated with me. Written in 1997, but only translated into English last year, it tells of a kitten found and adopted by Mayumi Inaba, a novelist and poet. Like my Wenusia (below), Mii came into the author's life by chance not choice, and like my Wenusia, Mii was "a calico, with black and tan stripes on her head and patches on her back, and a belly that was pure white."

Although the book focuses on the cat, its setting reflects the changes that Japan was undergoing from the mid-1970s on. Land gets developed. Flats to rent are difficult to find. Traffic roars through once-quiet neighbourhoods. Rusty chain-link fences, ancient shrines, vending machines, blossom and bin-bags. New warehouses block out views over picturesque landscapes. Tenants moving on have to leave their cat behind as the new landlord won't take pets. The cat waits for its owners to return; they don't, but other humans start leaving bowls of cat food out for it.

When the author moved from a house with a garden to a small fifth-floor flat, poor Mii was deprived of the ability to come and go at will and play outdoors. I perceive that Wenusia has an excellent life; she spends several hours a day outside, though never straying too far, always returning for food and a cosy bed. I am reminded of Moni's old cat, Jovis, who spent his entire life in small flats. 

The book brought me new insights into how cats perceive their symbiotic relationship with their human 'owner'; the small signs that a cat will give to the human to say 'I appreciate what you do for me'. 

I love it when, sitting at my desk in my kitchen, there's a sudden commotion outside and Wenusia's face pops up on the window ledge outside. Just like Felusia in Jeziorki, she commands the human within to open the window with a simple facial expression: a momentary opening of the mouth. And when she scrambles up onto the windowsill inside, wanting to be let out – I open the window, she manoeuvres her way out with her articulated back, raising her tail so it doesn't get caught in the window as I close it – without having to look back to check that it's clear. And when I return from a day in town, and Wenusia is waiting for me on the drive, and comes bounding up to greet me.

Mii, like Wenusia, had her boyfriends; local tomcats. Sadly, Mii got pregnant the very first time she came into heat; she had a single stillborn kitten, too big to be delivered. Mii had to have her womb removed by a vet, so she never got to realise herself in maternity.

Although Mii and Mayumi lived together a long time, the last five years of Mii's life were beset with health problems. She finally died, aged 20, of old age. Sadly, Mayumi Inaba died of pancreatic cancer in 2014 at the age of 64.

In all my life, there have been only two translators who were so excellent that to this day I remember their names as I do the authors whose books they translated – William Weaver and Jennifer Croft. Ginny Tapley Takemori joins this select company. The book shines with the artistry of an excellent translator, one who knows where to leave in and explain a word from the source language, one who retains the poetry of the original. It is written in a way that I found easy to read and absorb, and convey so much about the subject and the author's mindset. If there's a cat in your life, this book is for you too.

[I can also recommend the Foresto anti-tick collar that Wenusia is wearing. Since I bought it for her, I've not found a single live tick in Wenusia's fur. Before attaching the collar, I found four of the buggers, plucking them out before they started sucking blood.]

This time three years ago:
The speed of life

This time four years ago:
Does it all come right in the end?

This time five years ago:

Self-discipline and creativity during the lockdown

This time six years ago:

Russia's Far East on road maps

This time eight years ago:
Heavenly Jeziorki

This time 12 years ago:
Why are all the shops shut today? 

This time 13 years ago:
Jeziorki at its most beautiful

This time 15 years ago:
Useful and useless in my wallet

This time 16 years ago:
In search of the dream klimat - remote viewing made real

This time 17 years ago:
Zakopane to Kraków in 3hrs 45min

This time 18 years ago:
The year's most beautiful day?

The platform is in working order (or not as the case may be)

 As a regular train user, I was delighted to see a new app called Sprawny Peron, introduced by infrastructure operator PKP PLK. The app gives passengers the chance to report issues at railway stations. It logs your location to the nearest station and asks you to identify the problem by category (graffiti and other forms of vandalism, broken lighting, rubbish etc). You can take and upload up to four photos as well. Days after downloading the app, I used it to notify PKP PLK that all four station clocks at Sułkowice had stopped at twenty past five. The next time my train passed through Sułkowice, the clocks were working properly again. A similar story at Zalesie Górne station – although the clocks were showing the correct time, they were not illuminated at night. Problem duly reported via Sprawny Peron and fixed.

Left: poster for the app at W-wa Zachodnia. Simple message – you report (it), we fix (it). 

Trouble is – it ain't always so.

Closer to home there's a serious problem that's not being fixed. In the passenger tunnel linking platforms at Chynów station, there's a water leak (don't know if it's groundwater or a burst pipe, but the problem gets worse after rainfall). Water is leaking through the electrical system, dripping (sometimes pouring!) from the tunnel loudspeaker, lighting fixture and CCTV camera installation. I guess this is a danger (I'm no electrician, but wouldn't brushing against the stream of water emanating from a source of live 220V current give a shock?). Below: the tunnel, the leak. And over the weekend, a vandal has scrawled graffiti on a sign, confirming the broken-windows theory.

The phenomenon of the leaking wall first occurred in the autumn of 2023. A few days after I first noticed it, I reported the situation to the woman in the ticket office (open Mon-Fri from 04:30-16:00, Sat 05:30-14:15. Closed Sundays and public holidays). She replied that she knew very well about this, and that she had passed it on as soon as it was first reported, but that no one as yet had reacted. The leaking wall continued leaking for months. The fix was evidently inadequate, as it began to leak again a few weeks ago, this time when anyone with Sprawny Peron on their phone could notify the infrastructure operator.

Below: the light fitting has ceased to work (for a while it shone bravely on despite being flooded).

Here's the problem; I have reported the leaking wall eight or nine times already over the past six weeks or so – zero reaction. No feedback, no possibility to connect to the administrator in any other way than by making yet another report the same way. Literally, a dumb app. Not good enough.

But it made me think – why were earlier problems fixed?

A linguistic point. The word sprawny is translated by Google as 'efficient', 'dexterous' or 'adroit'. Not so in this case. None of the translations of sprawny offered get it right. It means 'working' as opposed to not working, its antonym, niesprawny, means 'unserviceable', 'out of action', 'not working. Google Translate gives 'unserviceable' as nieużyteczny, but that literally means 'useless'. 

The PWN/Oxford Polish-English Dictionary (left) gives a better alternative – 'in (good) working order'. Google Translate also offers sprawny meaning 'airworthy' (though not 'seaworthy'); we're getting closer. The Polish word for 'disabled' is niepełnosprawny, the antonym of pełnosprawny, or 'able-bodied'. This also helps give meaning to sprawny. 

One way or another, PKP PLK needs to get its app together. If you offer to fix something that's (dangerously) broken – then fix it.

This time last year:
Anatomy of a Moment

This time two years ago:
Ego – self-consciousness – pure consciousness

This time six years ago:
The Day the Forecasters Got It Wrong

This time seven years ago:
Carlo Rovelli's The Order of Time

This time 11 years ago:
W-wa Wola became W-wa Zachodnia Platform 8 two years ago today 

This time 12 years ago:
From yellow to white – dandelions go to seed
[2025: this happened three weeks ago]

This time 14 years ago:
The good topiarist

This time 15 years ago:
Wettest. May. Ever.

This time 17 years ago:
Blackpool-in-the-Tatras
[My last visit to Zakopane – I've not been back since]

Warsaw rail scenes in the rain

Passing through Warsaw West (W-wa Zachodnia) as my gateway into Warsaw from the Radom line, I observe little progress in the main part of the station since the end of last year. However, at last the electronic timetables and signboards are working on Platform 9 (and indeed on the rest of the platforms and footbridge), below. The information is up to date, with delays shown in real time. This is a huge advance over the paper timetables, which along with loudspeaker announcements were hitherto the only source of passenger information.

Below: not so good at the other (north-west) end of Platform 9. The passenger exit via a pedestrian level crossing has not yet been reopened; most other works on the platform having been completed. Passengers push through the corrugated-steel fence and the barrier on the near side anyway. This really is most inconvenient, given that a perfectly adequate path was built here to connect the station to the Expo XXI exhibition and conference centre (behind the block of flats under construction).

While the underground passage (which will include the tram tunnel – a long way from completion!) remains unopened, passengers wishing to transfer between Platforms 1-8 and the distant Platform 9 have to tackle a flight of 48 stairs (no lift). Below: imagine getting up there with heavy baggage, small children or with impaired mobility. If you need level access – it's a 600m detour via a ramp to get up to the footbridge. If you have arrived late because of a delayed train, and your connection leaves in five minutes – tough. But work is getting on. Interestingly, walking down these very steps, I passed two construction workers in hard hats and hi-vis who were talking to each other in... Spanish. Something 'mi trabajo'.

 

Below: looking down from the top of the stairs. The bus stops on the north side of the station are already being served by buses. It's coming together nicely, it will be fantastic once all done, but it's still a long way off. The fifth year of the project.

Below: the unopened escalator connection to the tunnel connecting Platform 9 to the rest of the station. A lift is already in service.

A little earlier, I was passing through W-wa Śródmieście WKD station, the Warsaw terminal of the light-rail line that serves the south-west suburbs. Below: photo taken from the western end of the WKD platform. On the left, a WKD (Warszawska Kolej Dojazdowa – Warsaw Commuter Railway) train that's just set off for Grodzisk Mazowiecki from W-wa Śródmieście WKD; next to it is a westbound Koleje Mazowieckie train standing at W-wa Ochota station.

Below: the mid-century modern entrance to the WKD station in the downpour that hit Warsaw just after 3pm today. Note the gushing rainwater pouring off the roof, and the two dog-owners taking shelter.

Below: stepping off the southbound train at Chynów, and emerging from the pedestrian tunnel under the tracks on the Jakubowizna side; this is the view. I love it. Purest Kodachrome nostalgia. And yet little more than half an hour by train from town. 

This time two years ago:
Major rail project for the south of Warsaw

This time three years ago:
Prime spring, Jakubowizna

This time nine years ago:
Classic car show, Nadarzyn

This time ten years ago:

Classic vehicles at London's VE-Day 70 celebrations

This time 12 years ago:
Malodorous passengers on Warsaw's public transport

This time 14 years ago:
Inside Filtry - Warsaw's waterworks (Museum Night 2011)

This time 15 years ago:
Warsaw's Museum Night 2010

This time 16 years ago:
On Transcendence

Another hunters' pulpit

What a find, what a stroke of fortune! This time a year ago yesterday, I wrote about hunters' pulpits (the wooden platforms from which state-licenced hunters can take pot-shots at local wildlife). Today, by complete accident, I came across one I've not seen before, while walking along the edge of the forest between Dąbrowa Duża and Rososz. Climbing up the wooden stairs, I found that it was unlocked, so I entered. Inside, a (literally) moth-eaten hunter's jacket, a half-empty bottle of mineral water, some chocolate wrappers, and a wooden chair with a cushion. I sat down and surveyed the scene. Instantly, I was in luck BINGO! My Nikkor 70-300mm lens on, shutter set to 1/160th of a second, I zoom right out...

Below: the deer gets closer, before turning away. I set the shutter to 1/320th of a second to freeze the action a bit better. Look at the veins on the back and shoulders!

Below: a second or two earlier, what looks like a pair of juvenile males, the one in the background older than the one in front, racing out of a field of rapeseed and charging onto a freshly ploughed field.

Below: how they looked when I first caught sight of them. Moving slowly. As with yesterday's hare, I happened to be in the right place at the right time.

Left: the pulpit – quite high as pulpits go. This one is in good condition (the wooden posts can rot underground, causing the structures to topple if neglected.)  The hunting season is over; shooting deer after the end of February is prohibited.

Below: the view from the top, looking from left to right, to the north-east, east and south-east.

Managed to get my walk in before the weather turned. All good – 14.5k paces today. It occurred to me as I approached the woods beyond Dąbrowa Duża that the place where I wanted to go today for an hour-long walk is an hour's walk from home. And an hour's walk back.

This time six years ago:
Nowa Wola and Zamienie – Warsaw's unplanned exurbs

This time seven years ago:
Long-term memory, awareness and identity

This time eight years ago:
Language and politics

This time 13 years ago:
Bus crash on Puławska

This time 15 years ago:
The parable of the Iron-Filings Factory

This time 18 years ago:
Got to get ourselves back to the Garden

Days such as this will come back

Seize the day! Up at half past six. A sunny start, expected to cloud over before too long, a Zoom call at 9am, so time for a quick breakfast and an early walk. Assuming I can get my act together, a morning walk is worth two afternoon walks when it comes to setting down those qualia memories. Morning walks are simply more memorable. And they trigger more memories of morning walks in the past. The senses tingle with the optimism of a new day. No danger of dozing.

Below: walking towards the crest of the low hill between Jakubowizna and Grobice, I spot a pair of ears moving towards me, like the masts of a ship beyond the horizon. I freeze. It's a hare. Slowly I raise my camera (with 70-300mm zoom) up to my eye. Because I'm still, the hare does not notice me at first, and continues along the farm track towards me. As its eyes distinguish me from the background, it stops to assess the situation. The wind is in my favour, blowing from the north. The hare turns sideways. It sees me with its right eye to the south; its other eye detects a woman and her rather large dog, approaching the hare from the north. To the west, a chain-link fence. To the east, an unfenced orchard. The hare took the logical course of action and bolted off between the apple trees. For a moment there, I stood eye to eye with the hare.

Below: a few minutes earlier, around half past seven, further south along the same track, orchards to the right. And an impeccably cloudless sky. The glorious sun, unfiltered by clouds, all-powerful in the eastern sky, connecting all things to the cosmic consciousness.

Below: the forest, on the way out... superbly green. The sun's already quite high; sunrise was at quarter to five. I whip out my bird-song app to record the sounds. The forest is alive to the song of blackbird, thrush, blue tit, blackcap, willow warbler, chaffinch and chiffchaff. 

Below the forest on the way home; I have to pick up the pace, make time and get home to prepare for my call. I make it with ten minutes to spare. So – first walk of the day: 7,300 paces.

Call done, office work under control, kitchen chores sorted – time for the second walk, to the Deko Market in Chynów for porridge, bread and cat food. A different walk, through the village rather than forest and fields. Nostalgia, but of a different sort. Below: ulica Słoneczna, looking north. A Stella-Plage vibe.

Below: ul. Wspólna, looking east. America in the 1950s, loud and clear. Just replace the Hondas and Peugeots with Hudsons and Studebakers and I'm there.

Below: repainting the Jesus outside the wooden church on ul. Główna. The hands look a wee bit small if you don't mind me saying.

Approaching home, over the level crossing, I get that sublime feeling – the sun and wind together on my face. The afternoon warmth makes it slightly too hot under two layers, but the wind's blowing from the north-west just hard enough to bring pleasing comfort, and the combination sparks those familiar exomnesia moments from beyond the here and now. Another 7,100 paces walked.

This time last year:
All along the watchtowers
[coincidentally, another close encounter with a hare!]

This time two years ago:
Blossom, sunshine and trains, Chynów

This time three years ago:
A better tomorrow for the soul

This time four years ago:
Blossom time in Jakubowizna - the apples

This time six years ago:

The Ice Saints - right on cue

This time ten years ago:

Then and now: Trafalgar Square (recreating my father's photos)

This time 12 years ago:
Reflection upon the City Car

This time 14 years ago:
Biblical sky

This time 15 years ago:
Travel broadens the spirit

This time 16 years ago:
Welcome the Ice Saints

This time 18 years ago:
On the farm next door

What really counts

It matters little where you were born, and to whom, and how you were educated. What really counts is your awareness of being aware. Consciousness, metaconsciousness, observation; sensitivity to the sights and sounds and smells around you. Absorbing the qualia of existence. Consciously being. And being curious. Needing to know why there's something rather than nothing; what is the purpose of existence; where it's all heading – and why. The Great Unfolding that you and I are a part of. 

Live – observe – learn – seek... and testify.

Read broadly and discuss; adapt and adopt, find your own path, neither follow nor seek to lead but walk alongside your fellows, sharing observations, experience, insights and moments of awareness.

Memory, familiarity and preference – clues to consciousness before. Before this time. Can you recall the experience of emerging from the oceans onto a sunny beach? Lobefins, trilobites, dry land with giant horsetail ferns and the sky filled with dragonflies with three-foot wingspans. Walking on all fours. Eventually learning to walk upright and understanding the advantage that conferred in the Savannah. Biological evolution – its purpose, its teleology – lies in spiritual evolution, as our souls (or consciousnesses) connect ethereally with the flow of the Universe. Life after life after life.

What about the ego? Does that count, or is consciousness all? One can't dismiss the ego. If I am to be honest, my ego also plays a part in my blogging. I care about who reads my posts, and what they think of it. I'd be dishonest if I were to say that my ego has no part in my creativity.

********

Below: upon my way I came across tracks of wild boar – several individuals. I followed the tracks along the sandy farm track until they disappeared – through this gap in the chain-link fence. Evidently a long-established route for local wildlife (I daresay it's also used by hares too). But should the farmer patch up the fence, what will the boars do then? Burrow under and enlarge the hole through frequency and numbers?

Determination. Life will find a way. DNA.

This time four years ago:
Pfizered for the second time
[I didn't have a third jab. Would it have spared me from Covid, which I caught two and half years later? Or would I have had a more mild form of it – it wasn't that bad anyway, neither severe nor acute nor respiratory in nature – just long and tiresome.]

This time six years ago:
Another railway bridge over Puławska is replaced

This time 11 years ago:
Thoughts about life occasioned by the birth of kittens

This time 13 years ago:
Waiting for the footbridge on Puławska

This time 14 years ago:
Lost in the wonder of it all

This time 15 years ago:
Bicycle review

This time 16 years ago:
A Celebration of the Garden