A week is a long time, both in politics, and in my own life. Despite my attempt to shed so many of my responsibilities for Polish community affairs as I can before my big voyage, they all come back on the rebound to haunt me.
I wanted to reduce my responsibility in the Union of Polish Writers Abroad so as to have a clean break to spend with Albina on the high seas next spring. And what happens? Regina Wasiak Taylor, the Chair, rings me to beg me to join a 3 person panel to adjudge new member applications to the Union. I brushed her off politely, but to her it sounded like "O.K, O.K, I will." Entrapped. Suddenly I discover that this means reading varied texts in Polish supplied by the new candidates for membership and then making a decision which I will have to defend in front of jealous or even malevolent existing members of the Union. It is amazing how much bile can gather in those seemingly artisitic ranks of well groomed lady writers as they measure who they can accept in that august body, which they had themselves only just recently attained.
Then I had a session on Wednesday of the Polonia Aid Foundation Trust. I have been a trustee here for more than 30 years. The funds emanate from the sale of the Polish Government in Exile HQ in 1992, but with clever investments it has now increased in value from £2 milion to reach a total financial reserve of £3 million. It is an influential post as many applicants try their luck by coming through me to obtain a grant for their cultural or academic projects. The eight trustees are a pleasant bunch in their 50s and 60s and we can have a good laugh as well as a seious discussion on the merits of each application. It is a wonderful insight into the wide spectrum of Polish community activities, including historical research, theatrical productions, national commemoration events, poetry readings and charity events. We normally spend the equivalent of a quarterly interest total, which mostly leaves our capital untouched and making more money in various charity investment accounts. This time we spent £17,000, and almost half of that went on a digitalisation programme at the Polish Underground Study Trust.
The backroom intrigues behind the scenes of the POSK annual general meeting continue, even though that meeting is still 2 weeks away. The current chairman, Marek Laskiewicz, has made an almighty mess of things, including appointing an utterly incompetent Treasurer who keeps resigning every time he is criticized and who failed to present a budget to be approved by the Council, a head of culture who completely fouled up the booking process for the Polish Stage Company, and a Secretary, who did not believe in the existence of the covid and challenged any attempt to champion a campaign to support a vaccination programme in the Polish community. He was lousy at chairing POSK Council meetings and never wanted to override decisions made by his appointees, no matter how stupid. The one exception to this tale of woe was a succesful recruiting campaign for new members, followed by encouraging so many of the new members to complete application forms for some 20 extra vacant places on the POSK Council, over and above the reular vacancies by annual rotation. Consequently, he is quite likely to be re-elected, despite the fact that the previous administration's very competent Treasurer, Robert Wisniowski, is now the alternate candidate for the presidency. AGM meetings are normally very lively affairs and for four years running I have been chairing them very suuccessfully. This time Marek asked me to chair this year's meeting. However I had to confess that I had been one of those nominating Robert for President. Marek seemed quite shocked, as if I had betrayed him. He then withdrew his invitation to me to chair the meeting. Probably just as well.
Barclays Bank had refused to back Albina's attempt to get the shop to refund for the returned suitcases. Instead she ordered three new suitcases from TK Maxx. However, the original shop still owed us £160. So she popped round to the shop with 2 friends and spent up to £47 on kitchenware in the shop. This was set against the debt and we still have £113 credit in the shop.
There was time too to celebrate one happy dinner with Wanda for her birthday on Sunday. It was the usual suspect of friends at The Weir pub in Brentford, but it also included our happy gay funeral director and his "lady", plus their dog. As the "lady" and the dog were so cute we had other young ladies at the pub drooling over them. It has long been my experience that, gay or not, a handsome young man with a dog is an irresistible sight to ladies. But even that attraction would be topped by the picture of a young man with a baby or a toddler in the park. I speak from personal experience. Young ladies chat to you as you sit on the park bench, cooing over both you and your progeny. It must be the realisation by the lady that such a young person with a baby is somehow a safe person, not likely to rape you or molest you, but also unlikely to be gay, so that could possibly be seduceable material.
Then on Tuesday another birthday dinner for Kasia, this time at the Sikulo Italian restaurant in Northfields. Wanda was present again, but so was Magda who runs the Polish section at the British Library, and Kasia's daughter, Ania, whom I always treated as a substitute daughter, as a supplement to my real son. She had previously worked for Water Aid, and earlier for the Ann Frank Foundation, but now she has a job as a trader for a Norwegian gas supplier. I chatted to her about the Baltic Pipe which links Norwegian gas to Poland by way of Denmark. I suggested, jokingly, that she might want set up patrols to protect the Pipe from possible Russian sabotage. We also joked and explained to Magda how I had always been suspected by various gossipy Polish ladies to be the secret father of Wanda's daughter, Marianna, now living in Tasmania, and expecting a grandchild for Wanda next month, and also for Ania herslef. Absolute rubbish, of course. But very flattering to me for them to think that. We like to keep them guessing.
The misery of Iran contines. Oh, women of Iran, Farsi or Kurd, we are with you, we salute you. Apparently 102 killed so far in demonstrations, and lots more beaten senseless by the morality police and Revolutionary Guard. Their desperation and courage is amazing, but other than actresses cutting their hair in protest, what else can the West do? This is an internal Iranian struggle, but one of generations. Ultumately they will prevail but many years of struggle and repression still lies ahead. Great slogan. Woman! Life! Liberty! Baraye! Baraye is a beautiful inspiring song lies behind it. I feel I could play it at Binia's celebratory meet on Friday.
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