I set off in Esmeralda with Molly & Daisy for a Sunday jaunt in the woods on the outskirts of town. I picked up Bookshop Babe on the way and by the time we arrived it was looking menacingly overcast. We ventured well into the forest which apparently is the largest city forest in Europe as it is technically still part of Lodz. In the past I have come face to face with deer and wild boar. After an hour or so in the dark and eerie woodland, the sound of rain filtering down through the thin trees and gently landing on the forest floor persuaded us to turn back along the path from whence we had come.
I am reminded of the riddle "How far can one walk into a wood?" It never fails to befuddle and yet on hearing the answer it is delightfully obvious... "Into the middle, any further and one is walking back out again." My Big German Friend was so taken by it that he uses it when interviewing prospective employees.
Summers in Poland can be sweltering and the searing heat is often fragmented with storms the like of which I have never experienced in London, or indeed anywhere in England. I once passed through one on a night train and was thrilled and spellbound by the great shafts of lightning piercing the night sky, I remember peering through the driving rain running across the windows and wished that I could leap off and run out into the middle of the monsoon.
As we returned to the edge of the forest the rain had intensified and we took shelter in the concrete confines of a disused bus shelter. The light had dimmed to such an extent that a torrential downpour was plainly imminent. As we stood there looking out I took the moment to enact what has almost become a film cliche... I held BB in a close embrace and our lips met for the first time. It seems that in the movie world all the most romantic and dramatic scenes take place in extreme weather... or at the very least in the rain.
Having distracted ourselves for a spell we turned back to reality and the fact that the rain was not going to let up, so we ran for the car and, jumping in, set off for home. Road drainage is very poor in Poland, even on new roads in the city centres, and this makes for very difficult driving conditions when there is a serious shower. Deep pools had already established themselves across the wide communist boulevards, this combined with the leisurely to and fro of Esmeralda's windscreen wipers made the going slow and precarious. It can be difficult to judge just how deep these pools are until one is in the middle of them and it's too late.
After a little while we reached a main intersection, the rain was so furious now that visibility was minimal, and having narrowly missed a collision with another car who pulled out in front of us I managed to spot a place where we could pull over and wait for a respite in the weather.
Here we sat cocooned, Esmeralda's 1960's original style interior offering a pleasing relief from the raging elements. The rain hammered down and the windows quickly steamed up. We marvelled at the torrent, chatted and tried to comfort the dogs. And there we sat while the thunder roared and flash lightening illuminated all. Molly cowered at BB's feet and poor Daisy managed to squeeze underneath my seat, so frightened was she.
When I next wiped the window a little later I was confronted with a scene of pandemonium. Three cars had crashed into each other and another two had been abandoned nearby and were almost completely submerged. A steady stream of traffic in order to avoid the intersection which was now a sizeable lake were driving up and over the grass verge and tram lines to get onto another road. I opened the door to find that we were in a good eight inches of water and knew that we had to move immediately.
Notwithstanding the fact that I love Esmeralda, it's never far from my mind that a 26 year old car can be prone to trouble. She groans and squeaks and occasionally there's a discrete knocking from deep within her bowels, but she has never let me down and this day was thankfully no exception.
We followed the other madcap motorists up and over the tram lines and onto another highway. The storm was still ferocious and the thunder and lightening quite terrifying. BB lived not far and we managed to make it there by which time the tempest had abated somewhat. She invited me in to sit out the remaining squall but I determined to get home with the poor dogs. We made it back in one piece although I had to make a few U-turns due to vast ponds and accidents. At one point I nearly made a grave error when I approached a mass of water, the continuing downpour making it tough to tell its depth, it was only at the last second I noticed through the rain the top of a street bin peeking from the blustery surface.
I was glad to get home, the dogs even moreso and headed straight for the sanctuary of the dark bathroom where they sat quaking for the rest of the evening.
Word of the week: Burza meaning storm.
