A Golliwog Near Falenica Train Station

Got down to Falenica, just outside Warsaw, and what did I run into, of all things, a golliwog:

In Britain, the gollis have been harassed and run out of existence, I guess they have more freedom in Poland.

The golli I came across was not far from the train station:

The train station itself has a nice, old-worldly feel:

Yeah, a place doesn't always have to be spectacular, it's just nice to see a bit of old world charm.

A Warsaw Cemetery on All Saints Eve

Has been many years since I've been to this incredible cemetery in Warsaw around All Saints and All Souls Day, but this year, I've managed to do so:

Thought it would be a good idea to visit the cemetery on All Saints Eve as the place would be gently lit up without the massive crowds expected on All Saints and All Souls Days.

And so things turned out to be:

From all the interesting things I came across, the homemade cross below caught my eye the most:

A simple and yet incredible piece of imagination: 

Also ran into the amazing figurine below:

So glad I managed to visit the cemetery gently lit-up without the football-type crowds.

In the darkness, the cemetery church also looked amazing, of course:

Halestorm at Warsaw Progresja (30-10-2025)

 First time I've seen Halestorm and was massively impressed.

Lizzy Hale is a great frontwoman with a fantastic voice and touch with the crowd.

Really enjoyed the ballad-type songs with their great build up of momentum (Darkness Always Wins; I Gave You Everything; Like a Woman Can etc.).

But my favourite tune of the evening was always going to be I Miss The Misery, of course.

Bury (Lancashire): On the Banks of the River Irwell

After St. Gabriel's, I continued walking on the path alongside the prison-type fence that guards the school playing fields.

This part of town has become overgrown making the River Irwell setting look more picturesque:

For a moment, I almost thought that I was back at Bolton Abbey, where my journey had started a couple of weeks ago.

Such was the peace and solitude that this stretch of the Irwell offered.

Literally, just a 15-20 minute walk from Bury town centre:

Yeah, passing my old school of yesteryear and finding a welcoming stillness at the riverside provided a perfect ending to my trip to England which had taken in Bolton Abbey/North Yorkshire; Cornwall (Newquay and Looe); Shrewsbury (Shropshire), and of course, my hometown, Bury (Lancashire).

Bury (Lancashire): Passing St. Gabriel's Again

When back in my hometown, Bury (Lancashire), I always find myself revisiting St. Gabriel's, which now looks like something of a prison compound (probably due to threats from the horrendous demographic change that has occurred throughout many parts of Britain during the last 20 years or so):

 

Hard to believe that it's now 43 years since I left this school.

Looking back in time and through hindsight, my time at the school (1977-1982) seems rather strange now.

Back in those old days, students bullying other students and teachers caning (and even physically assaulting) students were commonplace events, I guess it was the same in most schools back then, it was a different time with a different ethos.

Of course, with the whole woke phenomenon nowadays, things have veered towards an opposite extreme where the lunatics have come to be in charge of the asylum, so to say.

However, one fond memory that I have from St. Gabriel's is of Mr. Hogan (a kind old-fashioned gentleman, a real teacher) introducing me to Wordsworth, through him teaching Daffodils in a first or second year class.

Have recently completed a book on Wordsworth, about his Anglican faith and flirtation with Catholic theology, which is evident in some of his lesser-known work (e.g. The White Doe of Rylstone and Ecclesiastical Sonnets).

While writing this book, I couldn't help but recall being introduced to Wordsworth by Mr. Hogan (a pleasant memory amongst a sea of more angst-ridden recollections from St. Gabriel's). 

Back in Bury (Lancashire): Passing St. Joseph's Church

After my week in Cornwall and day in Shrewsbury, I spent a couple of days in my hometown of Bury (Lancashire) again:

 Passing Kay Gardens in the town centre:

 

Bury was once a massive paper-making place, of course, but now it's more of a post-industrial wasteland.

Moving away from the town centre, I found myself at Moorgate, a once thriving part of the town, but still, I found an interesting-looking mural next to a new, shuttered bar:

 

Not far away, on Peter Street, I passed St. Joseph's Catholic church which I attended back in the 1970s when there'd been 3-4 Masses each Sunday:

 Now, there is only one Mass every Sunday, really hope the church survives:

 

When I'd attended 6.30pm Mass at St. Joseph's back in the 1970s, it'd been a kind of charismatic guitar and tambourine service in the early post-Vatican II era (the Catholic Church committed spiritual/cultural suicide by sidelining the Old Latin/Tridentine Mass, in my view).

Waving Goodbye to Shrewsbury

After a wonderful breakfast, half omelette/half bubble and squeak, made by my brother-in-law's wife, it was time to take leave after a quick but riveting visit to Shrewsbury.

 

My leave took in seeing part of Shrewsbury Castle, near the train station, as seen above.

The front of Shrewsbury train station was quite impressive too:

 And the inside of the train station was old-worldly-looking, like train stations should be:

 

All in all, Shrewsbury seemed a relatively sane and civilised place, long may it stay that way, of course.