Krakow, Poland - A Holiday Diary

Poland was unexpected. Why has no one ever told me what it is like? Husband had a work trip in Warsaw, so we decided to come to Krakow the weekend before, have a romantic weekend. Before I came, I had this image of post Soviet Union countries all being very similar - lots of flat roofed concrete buildings, all very ugly and sinister. I came to Poland for the experience, to see with my own eyes what I had imagined. It turns out I had imagined wrong!

First we flew to Kraków. We flew with easyJet, which I quite like actually. Check-in was quick (you did it yourself but there were people to help if you got stuck) and you didn't pay for anything you wouldn't use. I paid £6 on board for a cheese roll and a drink. It was a nice cheese roll.

We arrived in Kraków and got a taxi to the hotel. I was interested to watch the city through the window - was more Bruges than Tower Hamlets. There was a river with floating restaurants, a castle, cobbled streets, lots of cyclists.

  

The following day we walked around the city. I wanted to go to see where Schindler's factory was (as in Oskar Schindler, who saved so many Jews in the war.) We walked through the Jewish Quarter- saw lots of old buildings, houses with window boxes of flowers, synagogues, Torah schools. Before the war, a quarter of Poland's population was Jewish.

You could then walk across the bridge, over the river - the same route that the Jews would have had to walk when they were told to leave the Jewish area, their homes, and go to live in the ghetto.

There were about 20,000 Jews squashed into a few streets. Obviously the fences had gone, but many of the streets were still named Getta and you could see the old chemist shop, which was now a museum. The square, where people were sorted - allocated into houses or trains to the camps - now has statues of giant metal chairs. Empty chairs to show the lives that were stolen. Some of the chairs were normal sized and near the tram stop. Husband sat on one. I worried this was disrespectful, but apparently the sculptures were planned like that, to show that anyone could have been taken.

Schindler's factory, a few minutes walk away, was just a factory. Here there were lots of concrete buildings. There were photos in the factory windows of the Jews who had worked there and the inside is now a museum and an art gallery, which I didn't fancy looking at (not very keen on museums.) I picked up a leaflet about a tour to Oswiecim (which is better known by its German name of Auschwitz.) Decided visit would be traumatic, not really the right thing for romantic weekend away with husband, better to go as a separate trip in the future.

  

 

Went to old part of Kraków. This is beautiful. Cobbled streets (glad I wasn't wearing heels), horse and carriages, ornate churches, weddings (with the bride and groom wearing very synthetic clothes which looked almost like costumes), Prussian architecture, trams, sunshine. There were little markets full of breads and pickles and crafts. Really, it was SO like going to Bruges at Christmas time, but with sunshine!

The churches were dark, full of candles and gilt and oil paintings. I'm not sure what they were used for during the communist reign, when religion was outlawed.

There were street entertainers, ice creams, people with designer dogs. And always, just under the surface, in the back of your mind, the city's troubled history. So much suffering. I don't know how long it takes to forget things like that.

We walked for miles. People in Poland do walk, the hotel and Tourist Information told us we could walk to places, which we could, but it was a long walk. Most other countries would've put us into taxis, even though we prefer to walk. It might be why, unlike when you sit and watch people in London, very few people were over weight. I got sore feet. Wore a pair of husband's socks. Looked very silly. Banned him from including my feet in all photographs (which he ignored.)

We caught a train to Warsaw. The station was more like an airport terminal, with all the cars parking on top. You then get a lift down to the correct platform ( yellow timetables show you which platform you need, though our taxi driver also told us.) We had bought our tickets online before we left England (from intercity,pl - we found out how by reading 'the man in seat sixty one', a website that tells you all about train travel in Europe.)

The train arrived on the platform forty minutes before it left, with the doors shut. Lots of anxious people positioned themselves near the doors, worried about luggage space (our seats were pre-booked.) It was fine.

The train was clean, efficient and comfortable. It cost about £40 from Kraków to Warsaw and took two hours. Watching the countryside as it whizzed past the window, it wasn't so different to English countryside, though the buildings were different - especially the churches with onion shaped domes on top.

I will write another time and tell you about Warsaw. 

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Thank you for reading.

 You could go on a 'Communist Tour'!

 This dog waited a year for his owner (who had died.)

 People-watching in one of the squares.

     Wonderful markets

  

Cloth hall - which didn't sell cushion covers....

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Helpful Europe train advice at:  http://www.seat61.com/

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If you enjoyed this, why not buy my book?

Counting Stars by Anne E Thompson

The book everyone is talking about..... The UK has recently voted to leave the EU. What is the opposite were true? Imagine a world with one, global, government. No more poverty, no more famine, no more war, no more terrorism, no more unemployment. But at what cost? Read about one family as they flee a society that has become unsafe. 

Available as a Kindle book, £1:99 from Amazon.co.uk:

What Does the Future Hold?

This week, the UK discovered sufficient people had voted to leave the EU. Britain would no longer be part of the European Community. What does that mean? It all seems rather vague at the moment, with people feeling angry and frightened or elated. Is it possible to 'go it alone'? Can we survive economically? Will we be better off? As we watch our markets plummet, we can only hold on and wait. It is still too early to know.

But what if the opposite had happened? What if, instead of the UK leaving the EU, the world became more unified? What if there was one, global government?

Imagine for a moment, the changes that a central government might implement. Imagine no more famine, no more wars, no more poverty. How would education be accessible?

What about more personal things, like obesity and anorexia? - Could they too be a thing of the past?

And how would terrorism be approached? Religion has caused so much trouble over the years, would a global government allow it to continue?

These are the themes in the book that everyone is talking about: Counting Stars by Anne E Thompson.

It is available from Amazon as a Kindle book. The link is below (you might need to copy and paste it into your browser bar.)

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Counting-Stars-Anne-E-Thompson-ebook/dp/B01GA99KTG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1467134904&sr=1-1&keywords=anne+e+thompson

Thank you for reading.

Lunch Club

How was your week? I cooked at Lunch Club. 

Usually I make a syrup sponge, but I thought I'd try something different this week, so I used tinned pears instead of syrup and added some ginger to the sponge mixture. I was a bit worried about cooking tinned pears - they might have turned to mush in the oven. It was okay. I thought it was a bit lacking in taste, tinned pears are a bit bland, but it wasn't horrible, which is the main thing. I might try marmalade next week.

I cannot tell you how much I dislike cooking dinners for large numbers of people. However, Lunch Club is something special, and I always come home happier than when I went, even though it's also really hard work (as you know - I believe you told me that if you ever agree to help again I should shoot you!) This week the 'kitchen team' were mainly men, ranging in age from about 65 to almost 80. That says it all really!

Each week we produce a healthy meal for forty people, and they pay £3:50. Some weeks we are an efficient productive team. Other weeks I feel like I have wandered on to the set of a Dad's Army film.

I am by far the most stressed member of the team. Maybe when you have lived through a war and survived, it seems less important if the potatoes don't cook on time. I am also the bossiest. The kitchen is inspected regularly for hygiene, so we have check lists of things to do. I am always nagging people to wash their hands ( even if they have just washed them when they used the loo, they have to wash them again when they reenter the kitchen.) They now tell me whenever I see them, "Yes Anne, I washed my hands." 

Whoever is cooking buys the food, then arrives at the church early to start preparing. Gradually the rest of the team arrive, some by bus, some via 'Dial-a-Ride' and some walk or drive. Everyone is pleased to see each other, so it's quite a social time. It's also the time when we hear about ailments. The team are mostly not young, so it's not coughs and colds - they will quite casually mention that they "had a minor stroke in the week" or "had bit of a heart attack so had to call an ambulance." I am always amazed how they seem to take in their stride, to carry on with life as soon as they feel well enough.

They also laugh a lot. At some point, before the 'oldies' arrive (who are actually no older than the team some weeks) we have a quick prayer. This is always more enthusiastic when I am the cook (need all the help we can get!)  When I got there this week, one of the team had rolled up his trousers to show some injury, which led to a general discussion of scars until I called them to order and suggested that we should get on with praying. Slightly worried as to where the conversation might lead. Like I said, I am the bossy one.

This week one of the church members popped in with his little boy. The oldies love to see children. They are, I have noticed, quite competitive with how many great-grandchildren they have. I can't really chat to them when I'm cooking (too busy trying to not burn anything.) But when I'm not the actual cook, I love listening to them, they have so many tales about growing up during the war, living in a world that has changed so much.

I love how enthusiastic they still are, how they will arrive excited that dog-racing has started in the next town, or there's a new club they can join, or even a new knitting pattern has arrived. Their obvious enjoyment of life makes me realise that growing old doesn't have to be scary, there are still deep friendships and loud laughter. Especially laughter. Friday lunch times are always some of the happiest, and most exhausting, hours of my week.

Take care,
Love, Anne x

PS. Going on a trip to Poland. Never been there before.

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Thank you for reading.

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Help, I published a book!

Oooh, very excited and very scared...I have just published my first book ever. It's for sale on Amazon, as a Kindle book. I wrote it when I was recovering from brain surgery, and used my experiences to describe one of the characters when he also has brain surgery.

The book is a thriller. It is about a family, has lots of suspense, and a few funny moments. I am a mum, so the mother plays a big role (though she manages feats that would be beyond me!)

It's very scary publishing a book - because now someone other than my family might read it, and reading is so subjective - though I am hoping that people will read it and love it and tell all their friends to buy it for their holiday reading.

Let's hope so...

The link is below. Let me know what you think.

Thanks, Anne x

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Counting-Stars-Anne-E-Thompson-ebook/dp/B01GA99KTG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1467134904&sr=1-1&keywords=anne+e+thompson

OR (If not in UK)

https://www.amazon.com/Counting-Stars-Anne-Thompson-ebook/dp/B01GA99KTG/ref=pd_rhf_cr_p_img_1?ie=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=6RPKFA7QGR1W5K8WF2CF#nav-subnav

Bruce Springsteen - A Letter to My Sister

How was your week? Mine was busy, culminating in watching Bruce Springsteen at Wembley.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I haven’t actually been to many concerts. Maybe something to do with being Minister’s kids, or perhaps we were just incredibly sheltered growing up (those two are not mutually exclusive, of course!) But whatever the reason, I seem to have missed out on a lot of the ‘basic teenage stuff’ that most people experience. My only concerts prior to meeting Husband were at Christian music festivals or Cliff Richard (no comments please…)

So, when Husband (who had a relatively ‘normal’ upbringing) suggested we go to watch Bruce Springsteen, I was somewhat fuzzy as to who that actually was. Husband made me listen to a CD. I commented it was a pity he’d had a sore throat when recording it. Husband raised eye-brows at my ignorance. We went to the concert.

Arrived at Wembley tube station and got directed to stadium. There were lots of men shouting, asking if anyone wanted to sell tickets. As we neared the stadium, there were other men shouting, asking if anyone wanted to buy a ticket. I thought it would be helpful to tell buying men about the selling men we had seen earlier - husband told me to just keep walking.

Entered stadium. Security involved removing lids from our water bottles. This seemed wrong, I wondered if the security men had been confused by their instructions - I failed to see how bottle lids could be a danger to public safety. Husband informed me it was to increase sales of the stadium’s drinks, and to just keep walking.

Found our seats. They were not perhaps the best seats. I was glad I didn’t suffer too badly from vertigo and wished I had brought my binoculars. Or a telescope. We looked down over a sea of grey heads. We weren’t the oldest people in the audience….

The concert started only slightly later than scheduled. It was plenty loud enough. Unfortunately, the person responsible for switching on the big screens forgot for the first song. We could hear it, and see indiscernible people the size of ants moving on the stage. They then switched on the screens, which was better, but we could only see Bruce, not the band. It would’ve been so much better if they had used the big screens above the stage, so those of us in the cheap seats could’ve seen the whole stage enlarged. It was hard to ‘catch the atmosphere’.

Having said that, Bruce Springsteen is undoubtedly a talented performer. He had lots of audience participation, sang for hours, involved a whole range of musicians. Most of the audience knew all his songs and sang along. The people standing on the pitch were dancing, some of them completely absorbed in the music, oblivious to the staff pushing wheelie bins around and selling food and drink. And no one suffered a coronary or stroke. The woman in front of us was taking photos of the screens on her mobile - one for each song. Each one looked identical to me. But you could see that for many, it was a special occasion, something they had looked forward to. It was rather nice.

From your sister - who is perhaps not exactly a ‘rocker’ but who quite likes being with people who are..

Take care,
Love Anne

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Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, why not sign up to follow my blog?
anneethompson.com

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You can read my sister's letter at:

http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/hiring-car-letters-to-sister.html

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My book can be found at:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Counting-Stars-Anne-E-Thompson-ebook/dp/B01GA99KTG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1467134904&sr=1-1&keywords=anne+e+thompson

How to Recover From a Craniotomy

How to Recover from a Craniotomy

For the first few weeks after my op, I was fuzzy. Very fuzzy. A sort of "I have drunk too many glasses of wine and can't quite concentrate" sort of fuzzy. I could speak and behave relatively normally, so people didn't really notice, but processing information was an effort. It wasn't unpleasant actually, I just didn't get much done. That was July.

When the fuzz finally cleared (after about three weeks) I was mainly tired. I also found that I became anxious very easily and was very emotional. Anything that would normally have made me think, "Aw, that's sad" now made me cry. Sometimes it was hard to stop crying. Close friends and family became accustomed to seeing me with a red nose and I carried tissues wherever I went. Initially, I found this intensely embarrassing. Then I began to notice that actually, no one minded and many people actual preferred the 'weak' me. There is a lot of competition in life, a lot of keeping up of appearances. It is a strain on everyone. Most people were very comfortable with the scatty red nosed lady who now attended things. I became closer friends with a lot of people. Mostly, people are nice.

After about six months, I began to feel that I was finally 'getting better'. My hair had grown back (my surgeon was a rubbish hair stylist - more a ‘shave down one side’ than a style) and I could stop wearing the annoying scarves over my bald patch. I still got tired very easily, especially if I was doing 'brain stuff'. So I could only read, write, hold a conversation, for a limited amount of time before I felt exhausted. I wasn't physically tired though and a walk across the fields or pottering around in the garden, gave my brain enough rest to then start working for another stint. It was important to recognise what was tired (my brain) and what was fine (my body) so I could still do things, just mentally demanding things needed to be paced correctly. It is important to do as much as we can, partly because it's not fair on other people to be more of a burden than we need to be, partly because unless we try to do things, we won't know if we can.

I also still had memory issues. That Christmas, I did cook the normal big Christmas turkey dinner with all the trimmings. However, it only happened because my son stood next to me, reminding me of what I was doing. He would say things like, "There's a saucepan of water boiling, did you mean to put those sprouts into it? When did you last check the sausages? Are those breadcrumbs for the stuffing?" He didn't actually need to DO anything, but he did the thinking bits for me. Without him, I would happily have boiled saucepans of water while the vegetables sat on the side. I think being aware of the stage of recovery is important, asking for the help that is needed while doing as much as possible yourself. Doing things made me feel more confident; having help, meant that I could actually achieve what I wanted to.

After about nine months, I felt as if I had improved as much as I was going to, though I still got in muddles easily. Previously, I had been a primary school teacher. When teaching a class - sometimes of thirty children - I knew exactly where every child was in the room and roughly what they were doing. I knew which ones could work independently and which ones I needed to check on regularly to keep them on track. Any change in noise or movement, I noticed at once and could stop distractions before they happened. I could respond to questions, accidents, behavioural problems, as they happened, whilst maintaining the general calm of the classroom. All this was a lot of information to hold in my brain. Even when I felt better, I was not confident that I could juggle so much all at once. 

I think the key word here is 'confidence'. It is possible that, had I needed to, I would have coped perfectly well. However, I just wasn't sure that I would notice if a child slipped out of the room. If there HAD been an accident, even if it wasn't my fault, I would have worried that I missed something that could have avoided it. I therefore decided I would not return to teaching, not yet. However, I was bored. A friend suggested that I started writing a blog and this led to writing longer articles and then novels. I still got mentally exhausted and had to take regular breaks, but I felt that I was achieving something. Again, I think only you know what you feel able to cope with. But if you cannot do what you did before, do something different. It is all about taking small steps on the road to recovery - and recovering from brain surgery is a very very long road. Brains heal MUCH slower than broken bones.

The following August, thirteen months post op, we went to Malta. My boys had bought the Game of Thrones board game. This is quite fun, not as rude as the films, and a good 'family bonding' activity. However, it also has lots of rules. Millions of them. I found that I still kept forgetting them and this was extremely frustrating. I became very angry with myself and very emotional (the whole crying thing was better by this time but still not as calm as I would have liked.)I am so not someone who cries over board games, so that added another level of frustration. I just could not hold enough information in my head. 

I'm not sure that there's a solution to this one. There are things that are simply too difficult, which would not have been a problem prior to surgery. I rather spoilt the game by bursting into tears. It would have been better to have laughed and asked for help. I think a lot of recovery is to do with being aware of when to stop, to know what will stretch and improve us and what will simply frustrate us. The thing is, no one else will know what is hard for us. If we had a broken leg, people would see the limp and walk slower for us, they wouldn't expect us to climb a mountain. Once your hair has grown back, everyone will assume that because you look 'normal', you are completely back to where you were. If you're not, it is up to you to tell them. It is okay to say, "I cannot do that anymore."

Eighteen months post op, I was cooking for forty people at a lunch club for the elderly (which was fine unless someone tried to have a conversation at the same time and then things went a little awry - but no one noticed). I was writing every morning. I was raising poultry and running the house. I seemed completely recovered. However, I still got mentally tired easily, I still forgot names and dates and lost track of time. I was chatting about this to a friend who had recovered from cancer after a big op and chemo. She also still gets tired, but she also pointed out that I was eighteen months older - if you include the five years of headache beforehand, I was actually six years older than when I was well. As we get older, things stop working perfectly, especially our brains. A lot of women my age forget things and get tired. 

There is a danger that we blame everything on our surgery. We do not know how we would be if we hadn't been ill and had major surgery. In many ways, it's not worth worrying about. We are where we are. What's important is that we recognise where we are, know that we still have a lot to offer - even if it's different to what we were able to give when we were younger. We have more understanding for people who are older, in pain, finding life difficult. We have had to learn patience, that we are not invincible, we have faced death and lived to tell the tale. Maybe we are better people than we were before.

When I had written this, I was chatting to my son about it, telling him what I had written. During the conversation, I made the point that if I could go back six years, to before I was ever diagnosed with a brain tumour and was given the choice, either to have the tumour and craniotomy as happened, or to never have had either, I would choose the path I had been given. True, it was painful and emotionally difficult. But the things that I have learned about myself, the new way that I have learned to trust God, the knowledge that I have gained about other people, what it means to suffer and survive, new strengths that I never knew that I had - it has been worth it. 

Brain surgery changes us. However, we would change anyway. Never forget that you are a valuable person, what you can offer now may not be the same as you could offer before being ill, you are different. Perhaps you are better.

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Thank you for reading.

If you would like to read my novel, Counting Stars, it is now available as a Kindle book. I used my feelings post craniotomy to describe how one of the characters was feeling after brain surgery. 

Counting Stars

Counting Stars published June 2016 as a Kindle book. Available on Amazon for £1:99

What would you do to save the family you love? How much would you risk to save your child?

It is a time when most of the world’s problems have been solved. There is no longer poverty, climate change, or unemployment and most illnesses are easily cured. Wars are a thing of the past, crime has been eliminated, and everyone works together for a better future. But at what cost? And why does no one in the Global Council ever die?

When Lena’s husband is taken away, she fears she will never see him again. On the run with her two young children, Max and Lucy, she enters a world beyond anything she had ever imagined. She discovers that comfort has a price. And when Max goes missing, she must call on resources she never knew existed, and courage she didn’t know she had.

Lena is a mother first and last. There is nothing special about her, but she will do whatever is necessary to save her family, because that is what mothers do. But will it be enough? And when the stars are finally counted, will Lena be included?

#

Counting Stars is a thriller. It is a fast paced, exciting read, with some ideas that will cause you to think long after you have finished reading.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Counting-Stars-Anne-E-Thompson-ebook/dp/B01GA99KTG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1467134904&sr=1-1&keywords=anne+e+thompson

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I wrote the article, 'How to Have a Brain Tumour' soon after surgery. The link is below:

https://anneethompson.com/how-to/how-to-have-a-brain-tumour/

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Bird Brain - A Letter to my Sister

 Bird Brain

So, a few disasters this week. I’ll gloss over them quickly. First was on Monday, at Aunt and Uncle’s Golden Wedding Anniversary. It was a lovely event, saw most of the extended family, food was beautiful, everyone seemed happy. I felt somewhat of a plonka, having taken the “Dress Code: Sixties” bit to heart. Thought I ought to make an effort. Most other people had taken the “optional” bit to heart. Felt rather silly in mini dress and false eye lashes. Especially as there were a few non-family guests present, who possibly thought I usually dressed up like an ageing drag queen.

Next disaster was Wednesday. After a couple of days of high winds, the tree outside our bathroom window had scraped roof tiles onto the ground. The tree acts as curtains – we don’t have nets at that window – but those branches needed to be trimmed before they did more damage. Husband then phoned trusted builder to come and repair hole in roof. Which he did. Early on Wednesday. When I was just about to have shower in now uncurtained bathroom. That would have been good information to know in advance…..

Lets move on to some animal updates:

Before we went away, the sitting duck hatched her eggs. Ducks are generally terrible mothers – they have a tendency to sit somewhere the ducklings can’t reach them, or squash them by mistake. She had nested in a big plastic crate (nicely rat proof) so I lifted out the eleven hatchlings and put them with the mother into the dog cage in a corner of the aviary. She was furious with me, but I did manage one photo:

They were sharing the aviary with the earlier two ducklings. The mother hissed at them whenever they went near, so I had to keep them separate. This wasn’t difficult, as really all they wanted to do was be with the chicks that they’d been raised with. They wandered up and down the edge of the aviary, cheeping at them. It was hard not to put them back together, but I know it would cause big problems later.

The big chickens (nasty, nasty, creatures) kept attacking the new chicks. They will be so much safer if they manage to form a unified flock, so I don’t want to move them out. Instead, I positioned lots of crates so they had areas they could escape to when attacked, and hoped for the best.

When we returned from Sri Lanka, I couldn’t believe how big they all were. They were, unexpectedly, all still alive (the house sitter did very well.) The chicks are now small chickens. They have still not exactly ‘bonded’ with the existing flock, but at least they’re not being attacked. They’re also copying them, sitting on the crates at night as an attempt to roost.

The big ducklings look full grown. As soon as their wings feathers have grown, I’ll clip them and put them on the pond. You only clip one wing – it’s like having your nails cut, it doesn’t hurt. But they won’t fly if they’re lopsided, so I can shut them onto the pond at night and they can’t sleep on the bank and be eaten.

The eleven ducklings are also much bigger. Am pretty sure the mother stole one of those eggs – there’s one completely black duckling, very beautiful.

Looking after the birds helps me forget about publishing – publishing a book is a LOT of hassle – nowhere near as much fun as writing them. I was hoping that Hidden Faces would be in the bookshops in July, ready for the summer holiday readers. That looks unlikely now, more likely September. Which might mean fewer sales, or might mean people will enjoy it and then buy it for someone else for Christmas. Hard to know. I am trying to be patient, to remind myself that God helped me write this book, if he wants people to read it then editors, typesetters and printers won’t ruin the time plan. But at times I want to scream!

Take care,

love, Anne

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Thank you for reading.

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