Powerless in Jakubowizna

All summer long, my phones have been buzzing with SMS notifications from the Polish government's security centre (Rządowe Centrum Bezpieczeństwa), warning citizens of impending thunderstorms, downpours, hail, localised flooding, and possible interruptions in electricity supply. The messages warn us to secure any objects outside that might be carried away by strong winds, and tell us to keep watching the weather forecasts.

Online weather charts indeed have been showing the progress of violent storms as they sweep across Poland, typically from south-west to north-east. [I use meteo.pl for its charts that can be localised to the nearest gmina, and its zoomable maps for forecasts, and rainviewer.com for real-time progress of thunderclouds.]

Yesterday evening as I set out of my walk, with one such storm imminent. Though it was still dry, I could see the entire landscape to the west of Chynów illuminated by frequent and massive lightning strikes, incessant rumbles of thunder, and winds whipped up by the downdraft from the water plummeting out of the sky. Soon enough it caught up with me - I had to run home to avoid a soaking. Safe inside my house I watched the spectacular light show; the sun had set at 20:10 but it was far darker than dusk - until the next flash of lightning lit up the garden like day.

Time for supper - kettle on - and the lights went out. And back on again. And off, and on. And then again, until minutes later they finally went out, not to return. My laptop has battery power for several hours; I'm halfway through listening to a Royal Institution science lecture. It continues playing for about ten minutes until the buffered content reaches its end. My phones are working. The torch function is extremely useful - having no candles on the działka, these are the only source of light, apart from the dim glow of the control panel for the security system by the front door, powered by back-up batteries. 

Fortunately, it's summer; in the house it's a comfortable 22.5C. A power-cut in winter would be disastrous, as the działka heating is 100% electric. Darkness, however, means I can't read books, I can't type; outside torrential rain is still pouring down. I run outside to take a look - I can't see any lights in Jakubowizna, nor in Chynów, nor in Nowe Grobice. A fire engine is on its way to an emergency. 

Back indoors, there's no hot water - so can't even take a shower in the dark. It's coming up to nine pm, I decide to wash my teeth and have an early night.

This is the first sustained power cut I've experienced in Poland since the Corpus Christi storm of 2010. That was bad - 36 hours without electricity, and heavy flooding all over Jeziorki.

I am blessed with the ability to fall asleep easily, and so I do, around 21:15. I wake just after midnight to the hum of the refrigerator; opening my eyes, I can see the blinking glow of the internet router on the windowsill. All is well; I go back to sleep, to wake naturally at 06:15. Nine hours of quality rest; some vivid dreams (exploring London Underground tube tunnels in the 1950s with my son, a glass-fronted control centre at the end of a platform, my old office at the CBI, though moved to Warsaw). Maybe going to bed shortly after nine is a good idea? [Maybe time to refresh an idea I had some while back - to go to sleep every day an hour after sunset? In late June, this would be about 10pm, in late December, this would mean going to bed around half past four in the afternoon.]

This morning it's stopped raining. I check the cellar; not too bad - bailing out half a bucket of water from the circular hole in the cellar floor. This needs doing every time it rains heavily, otherwise water osmoses its way up the cellar walls and into the house, leading to damp and mildew. Advice for anyone building a house - don't build a cellar! They are entirely unnecessary in these days of refrigerators, and increased flooding due to climate change means risk of getting waterlogged. A ziemianka - a dug-out cellar built away from the house - is a far better alternative.

Weather likely to be more clement for the next three days - sunshine to dry out the damp soil.

This time last year:
Kilometres of new asphalt

This time two years ago:
One man went to mow

This time four years ago:
My father's penknife and airport security

This time five years ago:
Post-holiday detox diet starts today

This time eight years ago:
Cycle ride up and down the S2 and S79 before they open

This time nine years ago:
Kraks and back in a day by train 

This time ten years ago:
Fountains by the New Town

This time 11 years ago:
Old-School Saska Kępa

This time 12 years ago:
The land, the light

This time 13 years ago:
Rainbow over Jeziorki

This time 14 years ago:
Previously in Portmeirion

 

Accounting for coincidence

It rained all day Friday, so I didn't go for a walk. A long one was needed on Saturday, to make up for the lack of paces. And my walk was indeed long (over 16km); it took me from Chynów to Krężel, the next station along the Radom line, followed by an eastward turn towards Barcice Rososkie, then through Gaj Żelechowski and Machcin II, and home.

Along the way, I come across a signpost for the village of Henryków. I stop to take a photo, being minded of the 1970s British progressive/ avantgarde group, Henry Cow (anyone else remember them?)

It was name one would bandy around the sixth-form common room to demonstrate one's on-trend credentials; often mentioned in the quality music press at the time, and heard late-evening on John Peel's Radio 1 show. (If you actually knew Henry Cow, it meant you had an Older Brother.) So while not a group whose works I could hum along with, Henry Cow was certainly a part of the musical landscape in the pre-punk era - a band to be reckoned with.

I think no more of it until returning to the działka; I listen to some Henry Cow on YouTube and read up about the band and its rich history on Wikipedia. Below: the cover of The Road, the box set of the band's works.

One of the more immediately accessible Henry Cow tunes, Nine Funerals for a Citizen King.

And then I make a stunning discovery. The definitive book (512 pages long) about Henry Cow, published in 2019, entitled Henry Cow: The World Is a Problem, was written by American academic Benjamin Piekut. 

Benjamin Piekut. Piekut...

PIEKUT IS LITERALLY THE NEXT VILLAGE TO HENRYKÓW.

The two villages border each other, and their centres are less than one mile apart. What are the chances?

The photograph below was taken just a few hundred metres from the one towards the top of this post.

Although Poland has a Piekuty, a Nowe Piekuty and a Piekutowo, it has only one Piekut.

Below: an OpenStreetMap view of the area, Piekut abutting Henryków.

On to the philosophical point. It is indeed possible that a young American, Benjamin Piekut, curious as to the origin of his surname, googled it and found it on a map of Mazovia, next to a village that sounded like the name of a 1970s British prog-rock band. Which piqued his interest to the point that he ended up writing a book about them.

Or not! I shall have to find out!

It's coincidences like this that make physicist Richard Feynman's famous quote about coincidence sound like bollocks: "The most amazing thing happened to me tonight... I saw a car with the license plate ARW 357. Of all the millions of license plates in the state, what was the chance that I would see that particular one tonight?"

I return to Henryków by motorbike to have more of a look around.

The universe is indeed held together by a latticework of coincidence. 'Plate' or 'shrimp', 'plate of shrimp'.

This time last year:
Działka food

This time two years ago:
Proper summer in Warsaw

This time three years ago:
Poland's trains failing in the heat

This time four years ago:
"Learn from your mystics is my only advice"

This time five years ago:
Out where the pines grow wild and tall

This time eight years ago:
Behold and See (part V) - short story

This time nine years ago:
Syrenki in Warsaw

This time ten years ago:
What's the Polish for 'impostor'?

This time 11 years ago:
Running with the storm on the road to Mamrotowo

This time 13 years ago:
St Pancras Station - new gateway to London

This time 14 years ago:
Mountains or sea? North Wales has them both

Going round in circles

Sometimes the brain goes stale. The same song stuck in the head for days. Frustrating dreams in which the same actions and concerns are worrying and wearisome. How to get out of this state of mind? A walk is generally excellent panacea, but today it rained all day. Goodbye Toulouse by the Stranglers has replaced Green Manalishi (With the Two-Prong Crown) by Fleetwood Mac as this week's earworm. Rain all day, not much work (just a couple of emails), so a chance to sweep the floors, some extra exercises and do a bit of decluttering. 

Kick it out – break out of the circle, turn it into a spiral.

{{ A Pleasurer Among Towns }}

Time to channel, and have a crack at automatic writing. Hello... I've caught something. Like an angler feeling a tug. "It's November and raining, the High Street lights reflecting off the wet pavement. I'll pop by the Crown for a large whisky and light ale chaser. The smell of rain on wet gaberdine and traffic fumes gives way to the nicotine fug of the saloon bar. Another working day over, time to unwind and forget that cancelled sales contract, the client's angry phone call to head office. Too much rivalry. Bad blood. We should be working together, not sniping at each other. I look around for a quiet part of the bar to sit down, not hard, not a busy day, but a group of long-haired students is hanging around the jukebox. Bloody layabouts. I'm driving growth in the British economy, they're probably studying mediaeval Japanese poetry. At the bar, I make my order, plus a packet of salted peanuts. Barmaid's friendly smile – helpful. Sit down. Table's sticky. First sip of scotch – I wait a while. Then a gulp of beer... and that familiar warmth in the veins begins to set the world to right... I belch, quietly. Relaxing my way into the upholstery. Another sip of scotch. All good stuff. And a mouthful of beer as a chaser. All's well.

I feel a sudden sense of togetherness with all those pub philosophers who, after a beer or two had ever pondered the meaning of life. 

It's pleasure. 

To get pleasured, you need money. 

Money.

Women, see, they look to a man for security. Sex for security. That's how it works. If you're sitting on bags of cash, a bird will think you can offer her security. The more cash you've got, the better. More cash, more things she can buy for herself. So she'll spread her legs for you. In a short nylon nightie. 

I need to make more money. That means outselling the other bastards in Sales. Money is the wherewithal to pleasure. I get that. I really get that.

Tonight. Tonight will be more than a few drinks, a saveloy and chips and flopping out at the Railway Hotel. Tonight will be different. It will be great. I shall conquer once again – I shall triumph. Me – the Pleasurer Among Towns. They will all bow down before me in Sales. All my rivals, revealed for once and for all to be useless, lazy, lacking talent, lacking vision. Lacking entrepreneurial flair. Engineers not true salesmen. My car shall be the best in the car park – a Zodiac Executive, V6 with auto box, metallic blue, black vinyl roof, walnut dash, black leather seats – sporty luxury, reflecting my personality.

Tonight will be different, but those bloody students and their rock music and scruffy jeans. But where are the birds? The dolly birds from the mills? Place should be rich with them by all accounts. Chat 'em up, smooth lines, back to the new Crest hotel out by the motorway junction for a threesome – but it's Wednesday – not the big night, granted – but it's tonight. It is tonight. It has to be tonight. Tomorrow night I'll be back home, making up stories, you big man.

"Love, another large scotch and White Shield, if you will". I'm looking for a ten bob note that I was sure was in my wallet, when the door opens and in walk these three lovely birds, long hair, short skirts and go right up to those scruffy students. Bastards. They don't even stay for one drink – they're off, all of them. At least the jukebox has gone quiet. Just some old geezer in the corner now. Close to the gents.

Shall I put something on? Got a bob? Back to the bar. "Love, got change of a quid?" Silently the barmaid opens the till. The Isley Brothers. F6. Put Yourself In My Place. Fine song. Yeah and walk a mile in my shoes while you're at it. "Come on and try it, baby, baby, try it." And I'm still driving a fucking E-reg Anglia. 

I pick up a discarded evening paper from the next table and casually flick through. Early edition, no racing results. Just useless tips. One-thirty at Uttoxeter? No, that's all behind me. Never got me anywhere, that. Gee-gees – lesson learnt.

Up to the bar again. "Bag of peanuts there love, and twenty Embassies. No – tell you what – make it five Slim Panatellas." I notice I'm just a bit unsteady on my feet as I return to the jukebox to press F6 again. The Locarno, and that bird Dawn. She was more than alright, thinking back on it. Nothing more than a happy memory, though. Just a few weeks ago. Double Diamond works wonders.

What's gone wrong with the world? Why isn't it like it should have been when I was young? Secondary modern, night school at the Technical College? Loads of jobs, but all dead-end. Did I plan it wrong? It's half-past nine and the pub's empty. I catch sight of myself in a decorative Victorian mirror. Bloody balding, lanky longish hair down the sides. Check on the suit – too loud. Will buy a more toned-down suit next time. Those student birds would probably call me middle aged. 

One more, I think. Barmaid asks me if I'd like some company. She can phone her friend. Down to this, eh? I think. Haven't enough in my wallet. I fancy that saveloy more if I am to be brutally honest with myself. So I say no, sup up, put on my damp raincoat and set off for the chip shop. 

I am angry; I am dangerous. Cross me now pal, you'll fucking catch it.

The rain has stopped, but the street's still wet. Empty Midlands pavement. An empty bus goes by. I stare through the window of the Radio Rentals shop. Colour sets. Big colour sets. I want one one like that. With a remote-control handset. And a proper hi-fi. Wall-to-wall carpet and gas-fired central heating. Birds can't resist a pad like that. The Dougie Squires Dancers are throwing themselves all over the dozen screens blazing out in the store display. What's on telly later tonight? Bloody Wednesday Play load of lefty crap. Will my hotel room even have a TV? I belch again, unrestrained this time, and start coughing. }}

This time last year:
Between wakefulness and sleep 

This time four years ago:

Hammersmith, on Thames

This time seven years ago:
In search of quintessential English countryside

This time eight years ago:
Behold and See - short story, Pt III

This time 11 years ago:
Another return to Penrhos

Between the August rains

It rained for much of the day, I'm stuck indoors on the działka, but the forecast showed that the clouds would thin out by the late afternoon and the evening would stay dry. So off I go! Below: looking from my drive out onto the road. Which way should I go - left (east) or right (west)? I head east.

I follow the path through the wood, and head towards Machcin II. The orchards are now visibly fruitful - apples are ripening quickly, though it will still be some six weeks before they are all ready to be picked. The last of the unpicked cherries are rotting on the trees, plums are now ripe and ready to eat (I have had some from my garden already). Apple-picking will go on into early November.

Below: the road from Jakubowizna to Machcin in the low evening sun. A mellow, pleasing landscape.

Left: this is becoming one of my 'canonical views' of the manor - the unasphalted farm track leading up the hill from Grobice toward the small cluster of houses that is Adamów Rososki. Quiet, solitude, and fecund, fruit-bearing trees all around. On the horizon, the sun illuminates cloud banks as they roll away north-eastwards.

Below: the farm track rounds a corner and heads south; the low sun lights the foliage from the side. From time to time, there's the sound of a tractor spraying fruit trees with pesticide. The dispersed nature of orchards, with the more successful growers buying up ever more hectares, means the farm tracks remain important byways, allowing farmers to get their equipment from one orchard to the other, and ultimately, the fruit to market.

Below: up to the end of this track, turn right, then about 1,500 paces back to the działka. The evening stayed dry, the walk totalled 11,500 paces

This time two years ago:
Changes

This time six years ago:
Summer in the city

This time seven years ago:
The architecture of the Birkenhead Tunnel

This time nine years ago:
Behold and See - short story, part II

This time ten years ago:
Signs of progress along the S2 - Lotnisko to Puławska

This time 12 years ago:
Warsaw's walls bear witness 

Summer, winding down.

"Summer inhaled and held its breath too long," sang Jefferson Airplane. This summer's mix of sunshine and showers means each sunny break needs to be exploited with a walk, to catch the klimat. It's early August, the sunset today is 42 minutes earlier than the one on the longest day. Just a few weeks before the working year begins in earnest. It's the Northern Hemisphere's mad dash that sees 40% of the year's work carried out across 14 weeks leading up to mid-December and the pre-Christmas party season. So - I must make the most of this time, but this morning and most of the afternoon, it rained. So - some photographs from the last couple of days.

Below: what's becoming a favourite view, especially in this weather, a prospect of the road as it rises towards my działka.

Left: getting close to my place now, this is another view I love. The sign on the street corner says 'Ul. Grochowska', though I suspect that it has been brought here from elsewhere. The view, of oak, pine and silver birch against a blue summer sky, gets me every time. There was some clearing of trees on the plot to the right of this photograph the summer before last, though no new development has yet begun here.

Below: approaching the new level crossing from Chynów. To the right of the road, there used to grow a tall forest of self-sown trees. All were cut down, levelled with the ground, for the modernisation work around here. Less than two years on, a new forest is growing back. If there was a safety reason for cutting back the trees to give drivers greater visibility of the crossing around the bend - it's gone.

Below: ul. Wspólna, which runs ruler-straight for 1.2km all the way from Chynów's main street towards the station and level crossing, across which lies Jakubowizna. This shot is taken from outside Mirabelka, the nearest shop to my działka (1.75km). A lot of walking involved in eating! Red Honda Civic works well against the blue sky.

Below: this is the top end of ul. Wspólna. Turn left for the level crossing and Jakubowizna, turn right for Chynów station.

Looking northwards from ul. Wspólna, I get the impression of a town at the edge of a prairie - which it isn't. Cue theme from The Big Country.

Below: looking northwards along ul. Słoneczna ('Sunny Street'); to the left, ul. Działowa ('Dividing Street'), not to be confused with ul. Działkowa ('Allotment Street') which comes off Słoneczna as a right turn at the very end.

Meanwhile, Jakubowizna's main street (the one parallel to mine) is getting a pavement. (And ulica Karczunkowska in Warsaw can't?) The verges have been prepared, the slabs are awaiting; in the far distance the team has started from the other end. I wonder how long it will take to get the job done.

As I set off for my sunset stroll, I see a hare in the distance; it sees me, and before taking off, it first considers the escape routes. South? No, human on tractor in that field. North? The better choice. So it turns around 180 degrees and runs off that way. Nikon Coolpix P900 coming into its own at 100m plus.

Below: looking south towards Chynów station. The sun is in the act of setting; the station lights, and the lights illuminating the level crossing, have just been switched on.

Below: an evening train heads south from Warsaw, between Sułkowice and Chynów stations.

A glorious sunset, the day well spent.

This time three years ago:
My Mazovian roots

This time four years ago:
My father revisits his battleground

This time seven years ago:
Over the hill at Harrow

This time eight years ago:
Behold and See - the Miracle of Lublin - Pt 1.

This time ten years ago:
Quiet afternoon in the bazaar

This time 11 years ago:
The politics of the symbol

Measuring the immeasurable

"Wow! What a coincidence! Imagine the odds against that!" "I was thinking about her, and out of the blue - she calls me!" 

Most of us have experienced this, where meaningful coincidences make us pause to consider the phenomenon of synchronicity - circumstances that appear meaningfully related yet lack a causal connection. Rational science, based on classical Newtonian physics, is happy to dismiss coincidence as mere manifestations of the random. Can this sceptical point of view be overcome?

I have two copies of Explaining the Unexplained by Hans J. Eysenck and Carl Sargent (one in London and one on the działka); a popular book in the early 1980s, but one that missed the mark by miles.

Eysenck (a controversial figure) and Sargent (only slightly less so) set out to explain the mysteries of the paranormal in scientific terms, to prove that supernatural powers can be proven. They use the term psi to encompass all manners of paranormal activity from telepathy to psychokinesis, from precognition to remote viewing, and attempt to convince the reader that all these are real - on the basis of scientific experiment.

Pictures of machines used to 'catch dreams', to 'detect extra-sensory perception', or 'photograph ghosts' etc., adorn most of the pages of the book, along with diagrams of how consciousness acts on the needle of a meter etc; the aim being to show how science is in a position to validate claims made about supernatural, paranormal or metaphysical manifestations. 

"Consciousness can influence random events directly, both within the body and outside of it, by collapsing the wave function of of those events in the act of observation." This is the Dean Radin hypothesis, that you can will a quantum event into happening. Dr Radin believes that parapsychology is as repeatable as any science but also says that it is "difficult to replicate".

Explaining the Unexplained  was unconvincing to me when it came out, and looking at it today - even more so. The premise itself is faulty - that supernatural phenomena can be tested by scientific method - which above all means their experimental repeatability.

The guardians of the rational world, the sceptics and debunkers, ever rational, ever watchful for trickery, are keen to point out all the hoaxes, the statistical errors (deliberate or otherwise) and plausible non-paranormal explanations in any of these flaky pseudosciences as proof of absence of any paranormal phenomena. 

But proof of absence is not absence of proof.

So it's not that I'm sceptical about claims regarding the paranormal - it's just that I believe the paranormal - the metaphysical, if you prefer the term - won't let itself be measured. 

Out-of-the-ordinary events will happen when they happen. You will continue to experience them. But when you're looking out for them, or checking for them, waiting around for them, armed with scientific instruments - then these paranormal phenomena will evade you, because that is their nature.

That which we routinely experience as 'spooky', 'bizarre' - or even just 'unusual' is the lattice or web of coincidence that holds - in my belief - the Universe together. 

We know now that the universe is a field, a field of forces and points, fluctuating, repelling, attracting, resonating and converging into matter - it is entirely likely that a field of consciousness co-exists in the universe along with fields of waves, particles and probabilities.

But try to nail it down - and it won't let you. Over the generations, our paranormal powers will develop. The paranormal is that which runs beside the normal (from the ancient Greek παρά pará, 'beside' or 'next to', as in 'parallel'), rather than above the natural (supernatural) or that which lies behind physics (the metaphysical). Intangible to us, in other words. That's just the way it is. For us. For now. 

This time two years ago:
Heading Home [my father leaves Warsaw for the last time]

This time four years ago:
From my father's historic return to Warsaw

This time five years ago:
Country life in a capital city 

This time seven years ago:
My ogród is my działka

This time nine years ago:
Mazowieckie province tempts with mini- and micro-breaks

This time ten years ago:
Pride and anger

Poles' tastes become more cosmopolitan

About ten years ago or so, while visiting Polish food producers in the east of the country, it occurred to me that Poland was absolutely ready for a convenience food revolution. Poles were getting more time-poor as they become more money-rich, and had unprecedented experience with foreign travel. Growing and selling wholesale veg is a low-margin business compared to preparing it in interesting ways for easy cooking. For a while, nothing happened in this direction; on my regular visits to Auchan Piaseczno (one of Warsaw's best hypermarkets) I'd note a chilled 'ready meals' section growing at glacial speeds, with easy-cook pierogi being the top seller. Frozen pizza has long been a staple in Poland too.

So imagine my surprise when in Chynów - a small town of just over 1,000 souls, seat of a third-order administrative division, I came across these - the Hortex 'Street Food' range of oriental ready meals. These are to be found in the frozen, rather than chilled food, section.

Wow! Chicken Tikka Masala from India, Sweet and Sour Chicken from China and Coconut Chilli Chicken from Thailand. Bravo Hortex! I just had to try them all... (my usual działka fare are lentil- or chickpea-based stews served with rice or bulgur wheat, so these exotic meals make for a bit of contrast, and can be cooked in the oven rather on the limited gas I have). Now these dishes cost 10.98 złotys from the Top Market in Chynów, or 9.98 złotys from Auchan (including Auchan Direct). So just over £2 at the local price.

Taste-wise, not as good as Co-op's Asian ready meal range, which cost £2.75 or two for £5 - but they are bigger portions (475g vs 350g), which makes a difference, and they're chilled rather than frozen. I'm not entirely filled by 350g. And the UK market, having a significant Asian population, makes sure the taste is more authentic. 

Still, it's a start. No doubt ready Asian meals will catch on in Poland, competition will pop up, sales volumes will rise, the two factors will lead to lower prices and greater choice.

I look forward to the day when Polish consumers can have something like the wide variety of ready meals to choose from - though I'd add that these should be considered as something special, a bit of variety in the diet, rather than a staple.

Was a time when looking for salsa dips at Auchan I'd be hard-pressed to find one labelled 'hot'. Of the 20 or so in stock, nearly all were 'mild' or 'medium'. The same went for other foods that were offered in different taste strengths. Poles, it seemed, did not go for spicily hot food. Spicy in Polish is 'ostre', which means sharp, as in razor, rather than 'hot' as in 'my mouth is on fire'.

So the appearance of Tarczyński's Extreme range of kabanos (thin sausage) impressed me. Sold alongside vegan kabanosy, of all things! Both were indeed spicy, though not excessively so (for my robust taste-buds anyway). The jalapeño ones had a drier flavour - I must say I did like both of them! It will be interesting to see whether these catch on (bought at the Lewiatan supermarket in Nowe Grobice).

I noted back in 2016 the presence of a restaurant called Thai Thai within the building of the Polish national opera, and wondered whether the Thai national opera reciprocated by hosting a restaurant called Polak Polak in its building. Well, five years on - and two years into the pandemic - Thai Thai is still open, and from looking at the reviews, it's as popular as ever with Poland's cultured classes. If the comments are anything to go by, the main criticism of Thai Thai is that it's not authentically Thai enough!

Poland is changing, Polish consumer tastes are changing. A good sign that the country is becoming more open, despite what its wee sovereign is trying to achieve.

This time last year:
Rososz and the toponymy of the Polish countryside

This time two years ago:

Reflections of the 75th Anniversary

This time three years ago:
In praise of Polish mineral waters

This time four years ago:
Going back to my roots - Mogielnica

This time five years ago:
My father's walk around Jeziorki

This time seven years ago:
What's the Polish for 'sustainability'?

This time nine years ago:
Last chance to see Amber Gold's billboards in Warsaw

This time ten years ago:
The Twilight Rambler

A meaningful anniversary

Today marks the second 1 August without my father here in Warsaw. For the last four years of his life, he'd visit the city of his birth to commemorate the outbreak of the Uprising. Until my mother died in 2015, he'd never leave her side, and because of her claustrophobia, she could not fly. So after her death, my father was at last able to return to Warsaw - for the first time in 43 years. His last visit, in 2019, was the most poignant, not least because it was the round 75th anniversary. The City of Warsaw paid for his travel and accommodation, my daughter's fare flying out with him from London, and my fare flying back home with him - for what would be his last flight. It was such a special week, just three months before his death. 

For many people, the Warsaw Uprising remains controversial. Should it have happened? My father was clear. The people of Warsaw, who'd endured four years of German occupation, had simply had enough. He had himself personally witnessed a street execution; he had narrowly escaped a round-up, he had endured the day-to-day humiliations at the hands of the 'master race'. Like many young men of his generation, he was itching to get even with the occupier as the Eastern Front pressed ever closer to Warsaw.

Chance would have it that Colonel Antoni Chruściel - 'Monter' - gave the order to launch the Uprising from the very same building in which my father lived before and during the occupation - ulica Filtrowa 68. As a result, each 1 August would begin here, at the laying of wreathes in front of his house. My father was unaware that 'Monter' was operating from the building; he suspects it was from the flat belonging to his former scout master. Asked by the Polish media if he knew, my father replied that he didn't know that both his brothers were in the Conspiracy, and neither of them knew that he was in the Conspiracy, so deep was the secrecy.

Below: my father kneels at the grave of his brother Józef, who died during the uprising, aged 19.

These annual pilgrimages to Warsaw were extremely important for my father in his last years; a chance to reflect upon his own personal journey through life, meet family, friends and old comrades - and to see how his dear city had so vastly improved since his infrequent visits in the 1960s and '70s.

Each year, I accompanied my father, the last two years in a wheelchair it must be said, as well as the official events, we spent time visiting the places where he fought during the Uprising - from ul. Filtrowa 8, where his unit waited for the orders to commence, to the Pole Mokotowskie park where he'd made his way across to the Polish barricades by moonlight, under German machine gun fire, to the building of the architectural department of the Politechnika, where he was briefly taken ill with gastric fever, and where legendary singer Mieczysław Fogg sang to the insurgents on 15 August 1944; to the building on ul. Noakowskiego 18 where he saw out the last weeks of the Uprising, holding the line that the Germans never breached.

Each of the four visits were recorded in detail on this blog - you can see them all by starting from the 'this time last year' links below, although because 1 August falls on different days of the week, the programme of the commemorations varied from year to year. You can also click on the label 'Bohdan Dembinski' for more posts about my father.

Finally, we moved offices last year, from the 9th floor to the 4th floor - and from the new extension of the building, to its original historic heart. This is the PASTa building, which was built before WW1 by the Swedish firm that operated Warsaw's telephone network. Not only is it where our office is now located (in the south wing), it is also home to the association of Home Army veterans (in the north wing). The photo below was taken on 3 August 2016 - my father (seated) and his comrades from Batalion Odwet. 

Here's how the building looked during the Uprising. My window is just to the left of the main tower, above the dense, dark plume of smoke.

This time last year:
One photo for the Warsaw Uprising

This time two years ago:
W-Hour on the Big Day

This time three years ago:
My father at the 74th anniversary of the Uprising

This time four years ago:
73rd anniversary of the Warsaw Uprising with my father

This time five years ago:
Godzina W remembered with my father - a day of emotions

This time seven years ago:
Godzina W commemorated in a more civilised way

Godzina W nine years ago (2012)

Godzina W ten years ago (2011)

Godzina W 12 years ago (2009)