This is basically another bit of pro-Polish propaganda, so if you read the Daily Mail, vote BNP or post comments about how British people hate Polish people, then you can **** off now.
Jurek has been working here for a few years now. His wife and daughter have visited a few times, but this time the family decided to stop off at my house on the way from the airport.
I welcomed them to my tiny messy little flat. I apologised for the mess and somehow managed to find chairs for everyone. Out came a bottle of vodka and a couple of big chunks of ham. "Na zdrowie" apparently means "drain that vodka to the bottom of that glass in one go so I can fill it up again". A combination of their bad English and my bad Polish made sure that we all at least half understood eachother. "Do dna?" I asked.
"Tak!" the liquid level in the glass was somehow restored to its former level!
Most of a bottle of vodka later, Jurek passed the car keys to his wife. She tried to give them back. He didn't want them, so she passed them to me, so I passed them to his daughter who immediately passed them back to her mother who passed them back to me. "Okay, jeszcze jedna?" I asked, pointing at the bottle, hoping that alcohol may resolve the problem.
They eventually left, with Jurek's wife (sober) driving. It wqas as though these peopel had entered my flat, beaten me up with a very friendly brick, then made their escape whilst leaving the deadly time-bomb of a reasonable measure of vodka, but with a reasonable chunk of ham to help it down.
Not every Pole working in the UK finds someone as interested in their language and culture as myself, but open eyes and an open mind certainly help. Plenty of us are warm, welcoming, friendly people who are always willing to share a drink and a laugh. There's no Daily Mail in my flat to move out of the way to accomodate vistors.
Na zdrowie, Jurek i rodziny.
Jurek has been working here for a few years now. His wife and daughter have visited a few times, but this time the family decided to stop off at my house on the way from the airport.
I welcomed them to my tiny messy little flat. I apologised for the mess and somehow managed to find chairs for everyone. Out came a bottle of vodka and a couple of big chunks of ham. "Na zdrowie" apparently means "drain that vodka to the bottom of that glass in one go so I can fill it up again". A combination of their bad English and my bad Polish made sure that we all at least half understood eachother. "Do dna?" I asked.
"Tak!" the liquid level in the glass was somehow restored to its former level!
Most of a bottle of vodka later, Jurek passed the car keys to his wife. She tried to give them back. He didn't want them, so she passed them to me, so I passed them to his daughter who immediately passed them back to her mother who passed them back to me. "Okay, jeszcze jedna?" I asked, pointing at the bottle, hoping that alcohol may resolve the problem.
They eventually left, with Jurek's wife (sober) driving. It wqas as though these peopel had entered my flat, beaten me up with a very friendly brick, then made their escape whilst leaving the deadly time-bomb of a reasonable measure of vodka, but with a reasonable chunk of ham to help it down.
Not every Pole working in the UK finds someone as interested in their language and culture as myself, but open eyes and an open mind certainly help. Plenty of us are warm, welcoming, friendly people who are always willing to share a drink and a laugh. There's no Daily Mail in my flat to move out of the way to accomodate vistors.
Na zdrowie, Jurek i rodziny.