remembering to count blessings

"Look at all the tourists!" I said, peering through the car window as we passed the entrance to Lazienki park. They were looking through the railings into the President's garden, which was being half-heartedly guarded by a bored-looking guy with a big gun.

We continued down the road, past the embassies and grand ministries. They have begun replacing the old functional street lights with elegant cast iron ones.

"Warsaw's going to be unrecognisable once all these renovations are complete.' I remarked, noting all the scaffolding and freshly painted exteriors. 'The twirls will rival Vienna's soon."

Marek smiled. "You won't recognise it when you come back to visit' he agreed. 'Has Armani always been there?"

I looked out at it all in silence, thinking about how I would miss seeing the city change over time from up close. Of all the cities I've lived in, Warsaw may not be the most beautiful, but it's the one I've come to care most about. Stupid really, to be so attached to a load of bricks, mortar and tarmac.

As we approached the roundabout with its comical palm tree, Marek pointed to the other side where a group of police cars had gathered. "What's all that?" he asked, "why are there so many flashing lights?"

The traffic moved slowly around the roundabout and I noticed the huge rubbish collection lorry that was surrounded by the police cars. "That's weird," I said. "What's the rubbish lorry done?"

As we came closer and turned, I saw the body. Half-covered by a plastic sheet and lying between the wheels of the lorry, he was definitely not moving. I looked away.

There is nothing quite like a dead body to put piddling little worries right into perspective.