All Hail Breaks Loose

I keep seem to be fleeing, Pimpernel like, between rain storms at the moment. I'd just got into my student's house in Białęka Dworska when the great storm of yesterday hit. I can't imagine what it must have been like being caught in the open - after hours preceding humidity then the thundering tumultuous cacophony began... trees flapped about like newspaper-sellers waving copy, the rain smacked down in bulbuous droplets and the sky became a sullen torn canvas to proceedings.  It was a good time to be indoors. 

Marymont

This kind of weather isn't something we really experience in the UK and as usual I lack the wardrobe to accomodate. One minute it's boiling hot and reasonably sunny and the next you're wondering if you'll need to make a boat out of a cupboard. Coming home late on the metro yesterday some people were in shorts and flip-flopy, and others in trousers, scarves, hats and jackets. 

I have to admit: I do feel rather short changed by Polish Summer so far. I trudged and tramped through the snit, snand and snice* for six months and for what... can this really be it? I'd fantasised about lazy afternoons in the Stare Miasto, watching all the girls go by and sipping on a cool piwo. Instead I am dealing with Wet Sock Syndrome and how to leap gazelle-like over large puddles, or perhaps more accurately, mini-lakes. But never mind this  piddling picture of a puddle, check out the humdinger over at W W J. 

If Polish Summer doesn't pull up his socks and get the sun out soon I could be in danger of spreading alarm and despondency.

Below's photos: Three trees collapsed under the onslaught in Zoliborz. Within half an hour The Tree Man was out and lopping the branches to be taken away. Despite its reputation for bad service Poland often surprises me with just how quickly things are fixed and taken care of. Our lifts broke down yesterday evening and already this morning the engineers are in. Another example of the quiet, un-ostentatious industriousness of which the Poles should be proud (er).


One thing's for sure - Phil Collins would never had written the song"I Wish it Would Rain Down" if he'd lived in Poland.

*Snow and Grit, Snow and Sand, Snow and Ice,

PS. Check out the flooding at this Metro Station.