Suddenly my life is re-entering the regular effect of a treadmill. After a prolonged period of reduced activities and avoiding conflicts and community comitments, I am back at the cutting edge of Polish community life.
The world of Scena Polska (the Polish Stage Company), of which I am ostensibly suddenly a trustee, is looming over me again as I continue to act as a firedoor between their ambitions and their demand to be loved and respected on the one hand, and POSK with its bureaucratic attempts to harness these exceptional actors into the orderly world of sharing the use of the theatre with other users. At one stage I was in the firing line between an imperious POSK Chairman, my old schoolfriend Joanna Mludzinska, and the fiery Scena Polska godmother, Helena Kaut-Howson, with her grand vision of what the theatre in POSK should be. Helena is a world class stage manager. She recently invited me for the first night of her King Lear at the Globe. She is an extraordinary person, who was incapable of having a simple telephone conversation or zoom meeting without an eloquent hour long stream of consciousness monologue, which it was impossible to cut short.
With the new POSK management, who had no clear idea of the role of the theatre, we initially had an even worse time, as Scena lost all access to the stage because of POSK's administrative mismanagement after a very successful run of Polish XIXth century satirical comedy drama, Moralnosc Pani Dulskiej. However, the atmosphere has improved now and I have put forward a plan to have five free access weekends to the theatre for Scena Polska, at the same level of time as the children's theatre, Syrena. For the sixth weekend Scena will still get the theatre for free but would share the income from ticket sales with POSK. Unfortunately, we could not get a meeting organized to agree the new contract because of the sudden tragic death of Magda Wlodarczyk's son, Bartek. The meeting has been put back to early September.
On Wednesday I was on the treadmill literally. At last I found the energy to pop over to the gym. The rowing machines are back and for me they are a therapeutic 15 minute session to the sound of splashing water while I reassess the world around me and work out strategies for coming problems in my community and my private life. A half hour walk on the treadmill, a chest press, a leg press, and some gentle weights and I'm ready to face the world despite the growing heat outside. I had an enjoyable cafe meeting in POSK with Kasia Budd, a regular Tydzien Polski columnist, and Janusz Guttner, poet, philosopher, photographer, film maker, actor , a true laid back cultural all rounder. Then I check some theatre bookings for Scena with the POSK manager and then head back home.
Thursday. A long morning walk along the canal, a discussion with lawyer John Hamilton about the future of the Polish club in Kirkcaldy and an evening zoom session with the Federation of Poles in Gt Britain. They want me to arrange regular funding for them with PAFT. I tell them that they do not exist until they have updated their website. In the end I had to shout it. They've got the message.
I start Friday with another morning walk before the heat settles in. I take a plastic container and start picking blackberries. Because of the heat the season for berries has come forward a couple of weeks. I spot the rare Egyptian geese again, sone distance now from Brentford Lock, and take a picture. Then Albina and I visit our lovely Polish hairdresser. Albina wants to get into shape for the dinner invitation in "Ognisko" on Saturday with my friend Stefan on his 75th birthday. She did not want to go because of the heat, but Stefan's wife, Ewa, and I have won her over. The very fact that she was ready to go to this party was exceptional. She is still avoiding any visits to friends or to undergo the effort of attending a social event, whether at home or outside. This is partly her disgust with her own appearance and with her receding hair and partly the fact that she is still very weak after her operation which removed her two redundant kidneys last month. Three years ago, I had bought her a lovely wig of her own choice, but she never wore it and left it with a friend in Warsaw who has since died. I'm just happy she is in the mood to go. Stefan is to pick us up in his car tomorrow. For today, we had a meal at the Polish Bistro in Hanwell where Albina enjoyed her chicken liver and even took some meals home, including the soup.
Tomorrow, I face a dreadfully unpleasant session of the POSK Council with unconstructive wrangling over the accuracy of the minutes of the last 3 Council meetings. It is just soul destroying to rake over the past like this, but it is a gladiatorial combat between the old executive which lost in September, and the new one. I doubt if I will be able to stay to to the end to raise any issues of my own, including the possibility of organizing the Open House sessions in September for POSK, as I will need to get back to get Albina up and ready to attend Stefan's dinner invite. The deterioration of how POSK is managed is frightening, as this had once been the flagship of a well organized Polish community in London,
And I still find time to share precious TV time with Albina in the evenings. She resents if I cannot spend time with her doing nothing constructive, but just sharing quality time.
Maybe it is a treadmill, but I think I have my mojo back.
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