A few shots from my walk in the autumn woodland not today, but last Sunday, after going to the Old Latin Mass with the SSPX on the outskirts of Warsaw, on the road to Falenica and Otwock.
Should've been walking through the autumn leaf land a few weeks ago when the colours were brighter orange, yellow and brown, but still, better late than never, I suppose:
Like many other people, I always enjoy the leafy beauty of autumn:
Normally, the 3% Kastel would be the last beer I'd buy but below it has a useful purpose, being mixed with the 6% Bojan to produce a 4.5% beer:
The same principle works below as the Kastel is mixed with the 6% Ciechan to produce a nice, steady beer:
While drinking 3% beer is a complete waste of time, 6% beer is simply too strong for me now, but 4.5% is just nice, perfect even.
Not far from where I go to the Old Latin Mass in Warsaw, there is a place devoted to the Polish, early 20th century, mystic saint, St. Faustina, who, during her life, is said to have had conversations with Jesus being prompted to promote the Divine Mercy picture below:
Just as you enter the place, you can read about the Sanctuary of St. Faustina and some general details about her life:
She was born in 1905 and died in 1938, and during the second half of her short life served as a nun in converts in Warsaw, Wilno/Vilnius (now in Lithuania), and other parts of Poland, where she had her conversations with Jesus who pushed her towards becoming devoted to his Divine Mercy image.
Inside the St. Faustina place, there is a church which I must go inside the next time I pass
With the ever-increasing possibility of lockdowns, it was especially nice to catch Pink Turns Blue at the Pogłos Club in Warsaw last Friday:
As expected, Pink Turns Blue provided a great set of accessible and highly melodic tunes which went down a treat with a good few bottles of the Czech beer, Holba Premium.
Favourite tunes of the night, they would have to be So Why Not Save the World; I Coldly Stare Out; and Your Master Is Calling.
Despite Pink Turns Blue dating back to the mid-1980s, this was the first time I've caught them live, better late than never, I guess. Mic Jogwer has a truly wonderful, classical-type Gothic voice.
Had been years since I'd last had a drink of Leżajsk, so it was good to find it again.
This was the blue-label Leżajsk, which is good but, unfortunately, the white-label Leżajsk, which is even better, seems to have gone out of circulation.
Another absolutely wonderful Czech beer I've had recently, a Pale Ale (IPA, I think) from a brewery in the village of Krušovice, not that far from Prague.
Have just read that the Krušovice brewery dates back to 1581.
Have just read that the Konrad brewery is located in the city of Liberec in the north of the Czech Republic, and judging from the pictures online, Liberec looks like quite a beautiful city.
My friend, John, went to a wedding reception at Samlesbury Hall last week and sent me a couple of pictures from the wonderful place:
Have just read that Samlesbury Hall dates back to the 14th century.
Went to Samlesbury Hall about 18-20 years ago in mid-winter, wanting to have a look at the priest hole(s) there, but unfortunately, the place was being redecorated at the time. Still, my friend and I managed to get a nice couple of pints at a country lane pub with a wood fire, not that far away.
A Laodicean, first published in 1880/1881, is one of Thomas Hardy’s lesser-known novels as it lacks the gut-wrenching tragedy of The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886); Tess of the d’Urbervilles (1891); Jude the Obscure (1895) etc. Still, it is a fascinating read as it thematically revolves around a sense of the remnants of the pre-modern world being lost, and the confusion/psychological pain that this process brings. The latter is mainly seen through Hardy’s portrayal of one of the central characters of the novel, Paula Power.
Throughout the novel, Paula suffers from an internal struggle between having a nostalgic longing for the nobility and aesthetic beauty of the medieval world, symbolised by the old castle that she has inherited from her late father, and recognising that the remnants of this world have been eclipsed by a simpler, drab, but more comfortable modern world. Intermingled with all this is Paula’s growing relationship with the young budding architect and Romantic figure of George Somerset. Paula is first encountered in an early scene where she is about to be baptised into the Baptist faith but cannot go through with this act of formal religious transition. All of this is observed with interest by Somerset who seems to be a bit of a religious seeker, himself, which becomes more apparent in another early scene where he uses New Testament extracts and arguments from early Church fathers to defend infant baptism against the protestations of the Baptist minister, Mr. Woodwell. In response, the latter claims that Paula is “vulnerable to the Medieval influences” of her castle.
Still early on in the novel, Paula tells Somerset that she isn’t a “medievalist” but more of a “Greek”. After Hardy describes the “stagnation” and redundancy of Stancy Castle chapel, in another scene, Woodwell informs Somerset that Paula was receiving visits from “people of old cavalier families” who believed in “Apostolic Succession”; was influenced by her close friend, Charlotte De Stancy, whose family had lost their aristocratic standing; and had never forgiven Woodwell, himself, for a sermon in which he had compared her to “the church at Laodicea” (a church in St. John’s Book of the Apocalypse/Book of Revelation renowned for being lukewarm in belief). In the second half of the novel, Woodwell tells Somerset that Paula has moved away from her “family creed of Calvinistic truth” towards the more classical De Stancy worldview. During a quiet moment, Somerset reflects on Paula being a “personification of the modern spirit”, but he also recognises that she is influenced by a “chink of medievalism” which prompts some kind of “Romanticism” inside her.
The action of the novel heats up in the last 60-70 pages, with some of the most pivotal scenes being set in France. In one key scene, Charlotte De Stancy’s brother (and George Somerset’s rival for Paula) accompanies Paula to a cathedral in Paris, possibly Notre-Dame. De Stancy points out that Paula’s roundhead ancestors had destroyed his ancestors’ castle, plus the statues and stained glass in a (probably high church) cathedral, and yet she was now heading towards a Catholic cathedral. As the pair enter the cathedral, the “evening darkness” is “scarcely broken” by a few “dotted about candles”. After a while, they move to the choir section where they are greeted with a “blaze of light, partly from the altar” and “more particularly” from the image of a saint who some people “had assembled to honour” which was “surrounded by candles” and many “flowering plants”. Here, a “secondary radiance” from the candles is “reflected upward into their faces by the polished marble pavement” which is only “interrupted” by the “shady forms of the officiating priests”. Moreover, Paula points out that the women competing to regain their flower pots near the saint’s image spoils the “solemn effect” of what had gone on before. When De Stancy accuses Paula of being a “‘harsh Puritan’”, she reveals that she’s often accused of being “‘worldly’” and “‘half-and-half’”, which reintroduces the recurring theme of Paula not quite being anything concrete in belief. For me, this church scene is fascinating as Hardy describes it in almost theatrical terms, and as a non-Catholic, he seems to be scratching at the surface of certain aesthetic aspects that accompany Catholic religious practice. In response, I have often wondered that if Hardy had dug further into this aesthetic dimension, he may have become interested in Catholic doctrines, and who knows what this may have lead to.
A little later on, Paula goes looking for Somerset and the “beauties” of architecture in Lisieux. Despite having to pass some “dreary suburban erections” from “the railway to the old quarter of town”, Paula knew that Somerset would be working at one of the “medieval buildings”. She then visits a “large church” which would have made “any Gothic architect take lodgings in its vicinity for a fortnight”. Having failed to find Somerset at the monumental church of St. Jacques, Paula becomes enchanted by a “steep narrow street of antique character”, and is “transported to the Middle Ages” encountering a scene that a “medievalist” would “revel in” and “die and be buried in”. For Paula, this street is the living personification of the “imaginations of antiquarians” with “smells from” the 16th century hanging in the air “in all their original integrity and without a modern taint”. Thus, while surrounded by such medieval grandeur, Paula appears to have some kind of epiphany through which she gains a connection with an old world not completely lost.
While still seeking the elusive Somerset in Caen, Paula visits a church near her hotel to help pass away a “dull dispiriting evening”. Inside, the church is only lit by “seven candles burning before the altar” of a side chapel, with the “mass of the building being in deep shade”, and some “motionless outlines” slowly revealing themselves to be “kneeling women”. Momentarily, the unlocking of a confessional door by a priest “sounded in the silence”. After a short while, a priest leads Paula to the room of Mr. Cockton, Somerset’s assistant. Cockton reveals that Somerset “was sick and tired of holy places” and was striving to find “‘some wicked spot or other” to attain some “consolation which holiness could not give’”, although he may not have really meant this. Hence, Somerset may have become disillusioned through losing the motivation to pursue a medieval or Romantic outlook lost in past time. In contrast, Paula does not seem able to shake off her pursuit of Romantic experience and perception.
When finally catching up with Somerset, Paula is told that she is “an enigma always”, and she acknowledges that Somerset “‘knows a good many fibres’” of her character fearing that “‘some uncanny influence of the dead De Stancys would drive” her away “from him” again. In another turn of events, Charlotte De Stancy sends Paula a letter revealing that she has joined a “‘Protestant sisterhood’” so as “‘to steal’” herself away from the modern “‘social world’” that she rejects to attain a “‘resting place till the great rest comes’”. In her “‘secluded home’”, Charlotte promises to be even more devoted to her “‘very best friend’” with “‘continuing love and friendship’” as Paula would “‘always be’” somehow with her. In response, Paula weeps at Charlotte’s decision, and Somerset tries to console her by saying that Charlotte “‘was genuine, if anybody ever was’”. Here, Somerset may be suggesting that Charlotte is not a social actor, with the latter role possibly being a prerequisite for living in an increasingly modern world. Regarding this, Paula views herself as a “‘representative of the new aristocracy of internationality”, while Charlotte represents an “‘old aristocracy of exclusiveness’”. Moreover, Paula acknowledges that she is what “‘poor Mr. Woodwell said’”, a Laodicean from the Book of the Apocalypse/Book of Revelation, a “‘neither cold nor hot’” person who cannot submit his/her will to believe in things strongly. Reflecting on her modern self, Paula believes that for her, “‘lukewarmth is not an accident but a provisional necessity’”, recognising that even people’s “‘best emotions’” are only “‘transitory’”.
After De Stancy Castle is burnt down, Paula and Somerset decide against “‘rebuilding’” it unless “compelled” to do so. Moreover, they decide to leave “the edifice in ruins” and to live in a “mansion of independent construction” near “the old one” to be “unencumbered with the ghosts of an unfortunate line”. To emphasise this, Somerset tells Paula that the “winter rains will soon wash away the unsightly smoke from the walls”, with De Stancy Castle becoming “‘beautiful in its decay’”. He also predicts that Paula will recover from a mental “‘warp’” caused by the “‘medievalism’” of the “‘place’”. In response, Paula questions whether she can ever perfectly accept and represent the “‘modern spirit’”, wishing that Somerset was a De Stancy and that her castle had not been burnt down. Thus, Paula cannot become a fully modern person because she cannot completely let go of her pursuit of a medieval or Romantic ethos, being trapped between the drab reality of her real, current world and a nostalgic longing for a more heroic world that has been lost in past time. Here, Thomas Hardy seems to be diagnosing a central feature of the melancholia suffered by sentient modern people who seek a return to something more beautiful, heroic, and metaphysical. Of course, Hardy’s focus on the destructive effects of modern human melancholia is far more pronounced in his great tragedies: The Woodlanders (1887) and The Return of the Native (1878), and especially The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886), Tess of the d’Urbervilles (1891), and Jude the Obscure (1895). But all this is another story, of course.
A nice supper I had recently: a cheese, tomato, and black olive sandwich washed down with a bottle of Bitburger.
It was the first time I'd had a Bitburger in years, and I'd completely forgotten what a good, subtle beer it is.
It'd been 15 years since I'd last visited the SSPX in Warsaw, plus 2-3 years since I'd last visited them at all in Preston, north-west England, but a few weeks ago, I ended up going to Low Mass with the SSPX at 6 o'clock one Sunday evening.
Still remembering the bus route, I got off at the stop below in the suburbs of Warsaw, on the road to Falenica:
This village is brilliant for old wooden houses almost hidden amongst big trees:
Before going into the SSPX place, I went down to have a look at the beautiful Marian crucifix nearby:
It was great to see the Marian crucifix going strong.
And then I made my way to the SSPX church on Garncarska:
For the past 15 years, I've been to the Old Latin (Tridentine) Mass at a diocesan church in Warsaw that I love, but with the strange, oddball antics of Jose Bergoglio, who seems intent on destroying the Old Latin Mass, I now feel the need to visit the SSPX from time to time, just in case I'm forced to go there for the Traditional Latin Mass all the time.
The first time I've had Asahi and it was good, sharp and refreshing in taste, and just over 5% in alcohol. Yeah, I think I'll be having Asahi again.
Going downwards on this escalator at Świętokrzyska metro station in Warsaw, it did look like going down into another world.
In eastern Poland, the beavers are still busy on the river:
Not sure how long they'll be allowed to do that.
Was up in the Wola area of Warsaw the other week, and for the first time, I noticed the Płock metro station.
Might sound strange but I've just never noticed it before when I guess it may've been standing there for a couple or more years now.
Czech beer is rightly renowned for being good, and the two kinds of Postřižinské beer that I've had recently really were top drawer (as near to perfect as possible).
I came across them both in a specialist beer shop in a small town in eastern Poland, it was the first time I'd ever seen them, and they were a joy to drink, really fresh, like subtle organic lagers.
Have just read that the Postřižinské brewery dates back to 1895 and is located in Nymburk, a small town in the central Bohemia region of the Czech Republic.
For the first time in 2-3 months, I find myself with no concert this weekend, but last Sunday, I had the pleasure of seeing Huun-Huur-Tu from southern Siberia in Warsaw:
The concert took place in a big tent, constructed for a four-day World/Ethnic music festival, near the Palace of Culture.
I've seen some great music over the past 2-3 months and the same proved to be the case with Huun-Huur-Tu, of course.
Was really happy the band did the beautifully melodic Konguroi (Sixty Horses in My Herd), and the 10-minute epic, Odugen Taiga.
Might not have any concerts for quite some time now, but I'll have fond memories of those I saw between late June and late September, including Huun-Huur-Tu, of course.
