Lift graffiti

When we left our first temporary home at a friend's and moved into Marek's sister's empty apartment for what turned into a couple of weeks, I noticed a very unwelcome piece of graffiti in the lift.

Graffiti annoys me. Not the talented artistic kind particularly, but the childish scrawls that mark territory or assert opinions. It's messy and uncouth.

This was an anti-semitic piece of 'writing', illustrated by a star of David in a hangman's noose. It made me feel slightly sick and I tried rubbing it off with a finger, to no avail. I'm not Jewish, but I have a problem with any kind of sweeping negative statement like the one in that lift.

Each time I went up and down in the lift, I berated myself for having forgotten once again to bring any kind of cleaning supplies. It stayed for a couple of days and then someone a little less forgetful than me cleaned it off.

I was happy to see it gone, and then surprised when it was replaced with this:

All anti-semites are pitiful creatures with complexes, you are (backward?) too

Long live all races.

In theory I should deplore this wide statement, for its generalisations and crude lettering. Because I agree with the 'long live all races' sentiment though, I am inclined to forgive its unappealing method of communication.

It was allowed to stay a lot longer than the original anti-semitic writing.

Spotlight on him again

Happy name day thingumybob sweetie!

I think it's fab that you get two 'happy me!' celebrations a year, and I think your name rocks.

Wszystkiego najlepszego to all the other Mareks out there.

A glimpse of the progress that has been made

First there was the general destruction...

Then came the workmanship...

Next everything was given a new coat of plaster...













And finally, finaaaaaally, it was all painted and finished off.













Really? Pink you say? Can't say I noticed myself...

We are in tune with one another

We went to Ikea to buy a mattress.

I'm not the sniffy type when it comes to Ikea. I love it with an open generous heat that is all too ready to forgive and forget missing screws and badly drilled holes for the beauty of cheap, relatively attractive things we need. Yes, I said need.

I feel a sense of common understanding with the people in charge of the place. I walk into that big yellow and blue warehouse and feel a real sense of anticipation as I climb to stairs to poke around all those little rooms. It's like peering into other people's lives and grabbing a bit of what you want for yourself. They always have something I want; it brings out the worst of my materialistic side.

Anyway, I'm getting off track.

We went to Ikea to buy a mattress.

We talked to the man, explained our bedroom's arrangement with the bed on a platform and he told us we needed to buy one with a frame to let the air circulate. He showed us the ones we could choose between.

We cheerfully ignored all his advice and bought a totally different, big, comfy one that took our fancy. We asked about delivery and went to the checkout with our bit of paper containing the mattress details.

In the queue to arrange the delivery, I remarked to Marek that the 40 zlotys for delivery really wasn't too bad at all. '40?' he asked, 'no, the man in the mattress department said 80, but still it's not bad, we can't get it in the car and if they deliver they can carry it up all those flights of stairs for us...'

I went and sat down with the bags (oh come on, you can't go to Ikea and just buy a mattress).

After a little while, Marek returned, a bemused look on his face.

'All done?' I asked.
'Yeees, but how did you know it would be 40 and not 80?' he asked.
'I didn't,' I explained, 'I just misheard the guy, I really wasn't paying very much attention to what he was saying.'
'Well, we spent over 750 zlotys,'
'Yes...'
'We came to Ikea during the week,'
'Yeah...'
'and we ordered delivery after 8pm,'
'So?'
'We qualify for the half price delivery promotion!'

That's how in tune I am with Ikea.

Happy and in love

I love our new flat.

I'm not sure you can appreciate the depth of my devotion for this place with its high ceilings and big spaces. I love the new alcove, which we started a mini war with a neighbour about. I love the boldness of the pink and brown. I love the bed on its platform above the built-in wardrobes.

I love it all, but most of all I love the bedroom. I was up against opposition with the colours in the bedroom. Not from Marek, oh no, he was ready to agree to all my suggestions, but pretty much everyone else had a problem with the fantastic lilac colour I put forward for consideration.

'No! You can't have that in a bedroom, it's much too cold?' What are you on about? It's a lovely warm colour.

'Really? You want that colour with all that dark wood?' Yes! light purple and dark brown are delicious together.

'It's not really a bedroomy colour though, is it?' Wanna bet? I can have what I like in my bedroom.

So I ignored the voices, Marek and I agreed that we'd be the ones spending the most time there so we could do whatever we fancied, and on went the purple.

Don't you love it when you're right and everyone else is wrong... I think it's divine.

Its does go beautifully with the wood, it isn't too cold, too dark, too anything, it's just right.

Two-tone lilac is now so deeply engrained into my idea of beauty that when I saw these shoes, I couldn't help myself.

Note to self: we're supposed to be saving money now - spending time is over.

Woot! Woot!

...as my little brother would say.

We have a flat! We have 63 tv channels in various languages! We have INTERNET!

We don't have a kitchen yet, but who needs a kitchen when you have Spanish cookery shows and re-runs of old bbc comedy shows? And INTERNET?!

I'll be back when I've stopped floating on this cloud.

Patience is a virtue...

...that I am sorely lacking right now.

No, the flat's still not ready.

A combination of leaky radiator pipes and walls that were even more crooked that we thought to begin with, has turned our few days at a friend's place, into a few days at a friend's place followed by a few more days at another friend's place, and a 'do you mind if we stay a little longer?'.

The lack of internet is annoying, the living out of suitcases is uncomfortable and the argument that plenty of people are worse off than we are; at least we have a roof over our heads, has stopped having any kind of effect.

I just want to live there. Now.

Still here

While I've been internetless I've celebrated a birthday, bought an oven and hob, had a name-day (my first!) and visited a baby. Oh, and I was at work a bit too. I kept writing posts in my head, but never at any time when I could then go and write them down. Tough.

Just one more week and we'll (fingers crossed, thumbs held) be installed in a shiny new flat with internet and cable tv (channels in English! I may not recover from the excitement of BBC Prime, lame though it is).

Before then, visitors of the parental variety. Yay!