The Polish Experience By Nicholas Westerby This ... - GetSab.Com

They call it Disco-Pol and it is a love child from a drunken meeting of cheesy
disco and lounge jazz. I didn’t mind it but it made Elly cringe. It was soon
replaced by thumping Euro-Trance and I laughed when I saw the small old man
who was listening to it. He was chopping wood. He looked about a hundred but
the rhythm and strength he had suggested that he was much younger.
I looked at the place and didn’t see the neglected shell that it was, I saw what it
could be. I saw a home for me and my family, a garden for a dog to play in or
for me and Andrew to kick a ball about in. The garden was actually full of
rubble and discarded rubbish. It looked like the local hobo’s had congregated in
the garden and smoked and drank as there were large piles of cigarettes and beer
cans. I was a bit scared to go in the house so as I pried open the wood panel that
covered where a door would be with a claw hammer I kept it and edged inside
slowly. As I moved the board to one side a spider crawled across my knuckles. I
dropped the board and it made a loud thud. I felt other movement in the house.
“Are you sure no one is here?” I asked Elly.
“No one. Don’t be so scared. I will go if you want.”
“No way. You and Andrew wait here while I investigate.”
I could at least pretend to be brave even if I was shitting it. As I entered, a small
space opened into a large hallway which then led off to four rooms and a
staircase. To call it a staircase is a misnomer. It was a series of steps starting