Monthly Archives: May 2007

Krakow pictures – 2

This street let to the old part of the city from the castle. All the buildings were gorgeous.


This was a paint effect, not decorative brickwork.

This amused us. It was Monday, when it was extremely hot.
First, a young woman filled her water bottle from the fountain.

Then, a handsome red setter approached.


Of course, for full hilarious effect, the two events should have happened in reverse order.

No comment…

Many buildings were in a fine state of repair, but others are, as yet, untouched – though none the less attractive. I like old brickwork. There was quite a lot of scaffolding up – I’ve no idea whether these buildings are privately owned or not or, of course, who pays for the renovation.



The end is in sight, darlings, only another two or three lots of photos to come. Mind you, then I’ll write nonsense instead…

Krakow – words alone

It is impossible to comprehend what happened during the last war. We had a visit to Auschwitz included in the tour, but I did not go. I’ve read books, seen documentaries and films, and I didn’t want to see the actual place. I were Jewish I would have gone of course, or if were German or Austrian it would be some sort of act of contrition. Many of our party were in their 70s or 80s and they felt they should pay their respects, having lived through the period of these events.

I didn’t want to have images in my mind that would always be there. A shocking or distressing sight sears into your mind and can’t be forgotten. I can still see my father in his coffin, and he died when I was 16. No one went to Auschwitz to treat it as a tourist attraction but, as an observer rather than an involved party, I felt it wasn’t appropriate for me. Those who went said that the worst thing was the stacks of children’s shoes, and the shorn off hair. It brought home the complete inexplicable negation of everything that made those torturers able to be called people.

There were many parties of foreigners in the city, from all over the world and it shows how adaptable people are, that in the few years since the collapse of Communism, they had cheerfully adapted themselves to welcoming us all as tourists. All the young people spoke English and even those who didn’t were happy to try out a few words and wanted to be friendly. One old lady, from whom I bought a smoked cheese that looked remarkably like a small loaf of bread, held up fingers to show the price and then patted me smilingly on the arm to say thank you and goodbye.

I loved the market and I wish I’d taken pictures, but I feel that standing snapping away sets me too much as an outsider and I feel too embarrassed, as if I’m treating people going about their daily business as curiosities, so I don’t do it. The market was there daily, but the last morning was evidently Market Day, as there were lots of extra small stalls, with fresh cream cheeses, smoked cheese, meat, bread and plants. I wanted to buy some flower, cabbage and lettuce plants in their damp newpaper parcels, but I wasn’t sure if it would be legal to import them and I also felt the journey would crush them, so I left them alone. I did, and how whimsical is this, bring home some kohl rabi for Al to sell, just for the sentiment of it.

I must do some work this morning, while the sun shines. More photos later.

The Sage Speaks

He gave a talk to the *local town* Society this evening about L’toft china. He came home very cheerful, as it was well received by the audience of over 100 people. He had decided to give it a fairly personal slant – he started by explaining his start in auctioneering and the development of his interest in the porcelain. In the 1960s, he worked in Ipswich and knew a local expert, who had organised an exhibition to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the founding of the factory. This had taken place in 1957 and the Sage marked the 250th anniversary in our sale earlier this month by the inclusion of several pieces from this exhibition, and one of the catalogues. He also had a cake made –

The icing was white and the lettering blue, but the light above was pink, so the colour isn’t accurate. The knife was made by the modern L’toft Porcelain factory, moulded from one of the original knives.

After this, he talked about the history of the factory and the discovery, in the late 60s, of fragments of china and moulds when the area around the old factory was being redeveloped. Then he talked about the china itself, illustrated with slides and, afterwards, answered questions.

It must have gone well, as he even mentioned his age, which is something he is normally discreet about…

Krakow pictures – 1

Krakow wasn’t bombed during the war, and the old city is still pretty well intact, unlike Warsaw, for instance. Over the centuries, Poland was invaded repeatedly by other countries. In the early 20th century, there was complete religious freedom and tolerance, which is why such a large Jewish community grew up, to be devastated by the invasion by Germany under Hitler.

The city was built on the bank of the Vistula, or Wisla River. The old city was all one one side of the river. This is the view from outside Wawel castle.

The cathedral is right next to the castle entrance.

The courtyard is built in the Italian Renaissance style.


We visited the Jewish quarter. These pictures were taken in the main square.

I didn’t see any litter at all, but the roads were frequently swept by men with besoms.

There used to be many synagogues, all close together, each catering for a different branch of Judaism. The first two pictures are of former synagogues, the third is the sole remaining one.



You cannot help but be aware of the history of this place.


Some buildings still await renovation. It seems odd to me that all the windows open inside.

This is the oldest building in the area.

After this, we walked around the Old City, including the main square.

Locked out

Oh, what a foolish Z. I had, as a responsible person does, taken out unnecessary stuff from my handbag – a couple of name badges for different organisations, extra credit cards, various keys etc. I’d left a neat pile on the landing. This morning I went to visit Dilly and the children.

They had a dreadful weekend. The children were very itchy and, although they weren’t really ill, they couldn’t sleep. The baby had a big chickenpox spot on his lip and a couple in his mouth, so he didn’t want to eat. Luckily, Dilly is still breastfeeding (Pugsley is nearly 8 months old), so could up from the usual morning and evening feeds and, at least, keep him nourished. Squiffany was restless and irritable and DVDs at 3am became a life-saver.

However, by this morning, the worst was over and most of the spots were healed. I took through presents, received a warm welcome (not just for the presents, whatever did you think that for?) and stayed a couple of hours. I used the ‘house’ key to lock up and, when I went back, replaced it. This afternoon, I went to my High School meeting (pupil disciplinary committee, I’d love to tell you about it – really, I’d appreciate your comments – but it’s confidential), came home … and remembered I hadn’t picked up my own key and the Sage was out (a business call in Woodbridge, an hour away) and so were Dilly and Al. I could have gone to the supermarket and bought groceries. Hm. Pfft. Pshaw. I went to the splendid local teashop (it will be mentioned in BD’s meme) and had coffee and walnut cake and Earl Grey tea.

I rang Al. They were in Norwich and had lost our house key anyway – mislaid, I should say, it’ll be somewhere around. It was 4 o’clock. Ro would be home at 5.30. I ordered another pot of tea.

Darling friends, their lovely daughter, who is Ro’s age, and Mrs DF’s beloved father were great company as always. My friend B (Mrs DF) was gracious and fun as ever, but admitted after her father had gone to bed that it’s tough. I know, I looked after my mother until she died, and I confided things that made her realise that I understood her situation. I also apologised for not visiting before – the Sage has, as I said earlier, but I’ve been so busy. From now onwards, I’ll call in frequently. Her father and I get on. He’s more than 20 years older than I am (B is my age), but there’s always been a spark between us.

I gave B one of my precious packets of dried mushrooms. Polish mushrooms are divine. Polish soup is delicious. Go to Poland and eat soup. I ate onion soup, tomato soup, mushroom (made with dried mushrooms) and pasta soup and sorrel and cucumber soup with horseradish. They were gorgeous, every one. Yummy. I only bought two packets of dried mushrooms; to give one away is a sign of love. I also gave them a pack of dried plums (yeah, prunes, but how attractive does that sound?) in delicious chocolate, but I’d bought an extra couple of bags to give away, so it was not such a sacrifice.

Home Again

Hello darlings. I’m back, but my computer went into a vast sulk at having been left alone – it likes company and hard work, you see, and I’ve only just persuaded it to forgive me and come back to work.

I’ve had a fabulous time. Poland is beautiful and the weather was much kinder than it has been in England, including an unexpected surge in temperature to 30 degrees on Monday. When walking across the main square, several of us were obliged to use our umbrellas as sunshades.

I haven’t caught up with your news at all yet, so I’ll have a quick browse, but I’ve got a meeting this afternoon and we’re out to dinner this evening – darling friends, her father is ill and this is, undoubtedly, his last birthday and he’s chosen us as the guests for a small dinner party.

Back soon
xx

Z’s off again

I’ve packed, and it’s not even midnight. I can’t find the neat little guide book I bought, and which I was reading a couple of days ago, though. More puzzlingly, I can’t find the shampoo and conditioner that I bought to take to Cornwall, certainly brought home again and which should have been by the suitcase. Neither problem will trouble me too much, however.

I’ve never been abroad on an organised trip before. It will be rather wonderful to just have to drive to Norwich and afterwards be looked after.

My minor unhappiness is an attack of tinnitus in my left ear. I woke with it and it’s been there ever since, though I have managed to forget it on and off. It isn’t bad but is a nuisance. it isn’t hearing trouble but a symptom of hay fever, I think. An aeroplane flight will cure it or make it much worse, I expect, but never mind.

I’m leaving behind a pair of itchy babies. Both Squiffany and Pugsley have, this evening, come down with chickenpox. Poor Dilly, just when I am not here to help her.

See you on Tuesday evening, darlings. Be awfully good and take great care of yourselves while I’m gone.

love from Z x

z’s a goose. A silly one

I’m going away for the weekend and today is the deadline for getting ready, of course. So far, I’ve done almost nothing.

I bought a new toothbrush, ordered and picked up the currency, I finally found the envelope with the information, bought travel insurance online, printed two copies, one to have with me and one to leave at home, wrote down my passport number and took an extra £100 out of the bank in case. I’ve discussed plants with Al. I’ve recharged my phone and am charging up my iPod and camera. I looked up the hotel online and various places of interest.

Doesn’t this sound good so far? Unfortunately, that’s it. I have letters and emails to write that can’t wait until I get back and I have done nothing whatever about packing, including not looking at clothes, most of which will have to be ironed. I am rather hoping to bypass this stage altogether by buying new clothes, but the little dress shop is always closed with a ‘back at 2 (or 3) o’clock’ sign in the door. It wouldn’t matter at all, I’d wear anything, but some of the people I’m going with are rather chic and they think I dress okay – they don’t know I make a monthly effort when I see them.

I could have done most of this this morning, but I’ve faffed. I am, of course, a complacent fool, who believes there’s nothing I can’t catch up with. I haven’t mentioned yet that I’m out this evening, from 6 o’clock until about 9.30. This is the time usually reserved for packing.

No…still no sense of urgency.

I’ll be the scruffy one with the carrier bags, desperately shoving them into a suitcase, on N0tcutt’s car park at 7.30 tomorrow morning. You’ll know me, everyone else will be elegant and relaxed, and will be pointing and laughing at me.

I’ve been called a silly goose. The caller has a point.

Men are so lovely.

Sue and I found ourselves at Edgware Road tube station, wanting to get a Circle or District line train to Kensington High Street. We were competely ‘huh?ed’. There were no clear signs at all. A train came in, saying Wimbledon. Regardless of the fact that it looked to be facing the wrong way, we got on. “All change” came the announcement. “Huh?” we said again. A few minutes later, a man got on the train and positioned himself leaning on the door. We went to ask him. He explained that this station is the end of the District line, so that trains turn and go back from there, and that any train might arrive at any platform at any time – the trick is to watch the notice board and belt to the platform where a desired train is arriving.

He was a lovely bloke. He was about to start a new job and had an appointment with his new boss, whom he hadn’t yet met, at 11 o’clock. He said he had (though not recently) used this station for five years and it was the most entertaining, because the most bewildering, one he knew. After a few minutes, we understood. I’ve not seen so many puzzled passengers for a long time. He cheerfully explained the rules to a young American and a young *provincial Englander* (we were middle-aged rusticarian Englanders). I said we would follow him wherever he led. Until we arrived at Ken Hi St, of course.

Our meeting was fine, though the questions at the end were dullness personified and, after a bit of growling, we left a few minutes earlier than we actually needed to.

On the way back, there was one spare seat. Sue offered it to me, I insisted she took it. She sat down and then offered to take my bag. As I passed it to her, the lovely man next to her (god i feel old) stood up and offered me his seat. Yes, on the London Underground, a 40-something (young face, greying hair, I’m assuming) man offered an able-bodied if middle-aged woman his seat. I politely demurred, he politely assured me his was the next stop and I sat down. Sue and I agreed that we love men. Men are so delightful.

And how can anyone say that Londoners don’t have time to be friendly? They are always charming to me.

Z is in need of a Stiff Drink

I woke up at 5 o’clock, so I got up as I still had quite a lot to do for a meeting this morning. I’d had an email from the Rector on churchy matters the night before – ‘it’s nearly 11.30 and we’re both still working?’ I emailed back. It was after 1 when I finally slept.

I had so much time in hand that I looked up descriptions of all the pepper/chilli plant varieties and typed them out for Al to tell his customers. And then the squashes. And then I left for the meeting and, when I arrived, remembered that all the papers I had had printed for the AGM were still sitting in the study. We’ve all got a busy week and the extra hour spent in taking them to someone, or someone fetching them from me, would fill a lot of envelopes. So I said I’ll do them. Four pieces of paper to fold in half, 350 envelopes to fill, 350 labels to stick, 350 stamps to attach.

That’ll teach me.

I’ve invited myself and a bottle through to Al tonight and he says he’ll help. Dilly is off for a rare evening out.

I picked up my zlotych (I had no idea what the plural of zloty is so I googled it. Bemusingly, Wikipedia says that the plural is zlote for numbers ending in 2,3 and 4, except 12, 13 and 14 and the plural is zlotych for other numbers), bought 400 stamps (self-adhesive stamps come in little books or 100s) and went into the shop to pick up a few veggies for tonight. “Oh good,” said Al. “Are you busy?” I spent the next half-hour serving customers while he bunched up asparagus.

When I got home, after tea and chocolate cake, I started writing this, until an emergency phone call was received from next door. Squiffany had nearly fallen out of her high chair, but fortunately had got stuck, upside-down, which had been a bit upsetting. I went through to hear all about it and Pugsley told me. He waved his arms, leaned out of his high chair and made a lot of baby-talking noises, all with an earnest gaze. Squiffany allowed herself to be kissed better. Later, after doing some painting, she came to help me water the greenhouses.

I was dismayed to discover several more cucumber plants are looking limp. This sudden cold weather is killing them off – they’d have been all right if the weather had been cold all along, but they didn’t appreciate the sudden change. I can see I may have to resow next week, which is a bit of a blow as they were really healthy plants until a few days ago and the seed is very expensive.

7 o’clock. Time to start cooking. I don’t know what, yet. I have lots of vegetables, some cold cooked beef and pork and some cold cooked potatoes. Hm.

10.50. All done. Now I’ll get ready for tomorrow’s meeting – it’d be a bit daft to arrive at Kensington Town Hall without any papers, though not unusual for me.