Absurd Notes

I was born in Poland, but England is my home now. I proposed to my wife in France, and we went on our honeymoon to the Dominican Republic. I work in a Swedish company, and I have people from Tunisia and Ghana in my department. Before that I worked with an Australian who had Belgian roots, and a New Zealander who was half Maori. A girl from Ecuador serves me Norwegian salmon and Indian samosa for lunch. In a queue, behind my back, a Pakistani man asks if the food is halal, and right behind him, a Nigerian security guard who has a Ukrainian wife urges his Algerian colleague to try South African biltong. The vending machine in our canteen is being restocked by an Estonian, whose wife ran away with a guy from Mozambique, whose second wife had a son with a Portuguese, whose grandfather came from Mauritius and married a girl from Somalia in Switzerland. At home, I eat Czech dumplings with Hungarian stew and wash it down with Danish beer from a glass that I stole a long time ago in an Irish p...

I got my jab. Eventually, a few days ago I got vaccinated. Whatever was in that vial is now part of me. There is no turning back. I've never been particularly enthusiastic about the Covid vaccine. Not even because it was created quickly or because it is not fully tested. Somehow I just couldn't believe there was a need for it at all. Why? It does not give you full protection and does not last long, in which it resembles a condom. Covid will not disappear just like that. It will stay with us for a little longer. You gain temporary immunity from the vaccine, and you probably have to repeat the treatment after a year. This does not put the famous vaccine much higher than the regular, annual and voluntary flu jab - both remain vaguely ineffective. More disturbing to me has always been something else - simply trying to get millions of people vaccinated quickly, forcing them and convincing them that it is absolutely necessary. It is a gigantic investment. It is hard to imagine that t...

It is the end of February 2021. England is still in the third national lockdown. Vaccinations are in full steam and everyone is hoping the Virus Time is almost over. Boris announced an ease of restrictions. No one is too naive. The virus will stay with us forever, and so will the periodic vaccinations. My first anniversary is approaching. On March 20, 2020, I left the building where I work and went home for the first time for a forced time off. First, I was going to title this piece Love in a Time of Plague . Then I thought I was going too far. Not because I’m copying. Probably not too many people remember that book. Personally, I do not rate it too high, although the title itself is great. From the same author, I can fully digest only the magnificent One Hundred Years of Solitude (speaking of the titles,  this one is also great). Somehow it just didn't suit me. Besides, someone is about to say that I used the title to get more results in the search engine. Later I wanted to call ...

This story, like many others, begins with toilet paper. Well, maybe not that many stories start that way, but this one does. There are many types of toilet paper. Soft like silk or coarser ones, those which glide and slide effortlessly, fragrant ones, smooth or embossed, coloured, with various prints and thick, thin or multi-layered. There is no point in discussing it. What you prefer and why, should always remain behind the closed bathroom door. For me, at the moment, another division is important. Very specific and down to earth one. Basically, toilet papers can be separated into two groups. Soft, delightfully caressing every nook and cranny (“puppy” type) and rough and  ruthless (“dragon” type). By the way, these days the real "dragons" are long gone. They faded together with the end of the Eighties. It was Wild East, back then, I can tell you. It may be hard to believe, but in the 80’s in Poland toilet paper was a rare luxury. You had to queue for hours to buy it. Alterna...

    It's the Christmas of the weird year 2020. Well, actually it’s over right now. For me it only lasted two days, because on the Boxing Day I had to go to work. London was raised to Tier 4 but no one cares. We wish each other a "merry Christmas", but the world is not so happy. Some people waited a long time to see their relatives, be with their families and spend a few days together, but, unfortunately, it didn’t look exactly like that.      I’m sitting at night, thinking. I look at the Christmas tree and the fairy lights on the window sills. For a few years in a row we have had a family from Poland coming to visit us. We used to spend a nice Christmas together. Such a new family tradition. This year we are spending Christmas on our own. Honestly, it's not that bad. We are tired. Work, twins, this whole strange year. Some ads outside, on the bus stops say: "All I want for Christmas is 2021". People need change. New Year to be different. Normal. We all need ...

  There are some movies that can only be seen during the Christmas season. We all know that and we all hate them. There are also songs that can be heard almost exclusively at Christmas time, which now comes to the beginning of November. Here, traditionally, our ears and feelings are hurt by Mariah, Wham and a bunch of disguised freaks, Wizzard. There are also the ever-smiling Cliff Richard, old guys from Slade and probably the worst Christmas song in human history, which, for me, is the ultimate proof that in The Beatles it was Lennon, and not the other one, who had talent. But there is something else. I’m talking here about an unforgettable work of art created by Bob Geldof in 1984 (reportedly one of the best-selling singles of all time!), in which a group of famous British musicians from the 80’s calls to feel and heal the world. A piece of work, although undoubtedly created for good reasons, beautifully described by its creator: "I am responsible for the two worst songs in hist...