Ted Olszewski visiting Camden’s council chamber in King’s Cross

MY brother, Ted, died last week in a hospital in a small town in Poland called Busko Zdrój and was buried there on Friday.

He was 73 and had been in poor health for many years.

Ted was a lot older than me. He was born in the Polish section of an American army camp in southern Italy just after the war.

Our parents, displaced by the war, settled in west London where Ted grew up and acquired his strong London accent.

In contrast, I was born in Chiswick but acquired a Scottish accent after the family moved to Stirling not long after I was born.

My friends found it hard to believe how two men with such wildly differing accents could be brothers.

Despite the differences in our ages, accents and journeys through life, we were close.

Ted spent most of his working life as miner in Scotland. He loved the camaraderie of life down the pit and, despite having utter contempt for Arthur Scargill, dutifully stayed on strike from beginning to end.

After retiring, he missed the pit – the social and human side of it. He didn’t miss the grinding work, the coal dust and the foul air, even though their effects stayed with him for the rest of his life, slowly wrecking his health.

It wasn’t coronavirus that killed my brother – 25 years down the pit and 60 years of heavy smoking did that – but it was coronavirus that stopped me from getting to Poland to see him during what I knew was a dwindling amount of time he had left alive.

I was desperate to see him and talk to him for one last time but I couldn’t just jump in a car and ignore all international lockdown restrictions to get there.

Poland’s borders and air space are closed to all but a few exceptions – visiting your dying brother and going to his funeral are not among them.

Even had I got there, I would have been put in 14 days quarantine and legally required to download an app to trace my movements.

And had I eventually made it to the hospital, the soldiers blocking entry at the doors would have been a final insurmountable hurdle.

Cllr Richard Olszewski at a council meeting before lockdown

Lockdown in Poland is pretty absolute, which explains why they only have 1,024 coronavirus deaths. In Camden, with just 0.7 per cent of Poland’s population, 145 people have sadly died of coronavirus – 14 per cent of the total for Poland.

Think of all the fam­i­lies, loved ones and close friends unable to have visited them in hospital or to have gained solace at their funerals.

When I tweeted about my brother’s death, the dozens of supportive messages I received, including from strangers, was a great comfort.

But I still haven’t said goodbye to my brother.

Although I could have watched a live stream of his funeral, I couldn’t do it. I needed to be there in person. I’m left feeling detached and in a sort of limbo because I haven’t laid my brother to rest. I know I will eventually. I don’t presume to know if this is how the bereaved of Camden’s coronavirus victims feel. We are all coping in our different ways but help is available if you need it – as a first step, you can call Camden’s Covid-19 helpline on 020 7974 4444 (select option 9).

Tadeusz Edward Olszewski – June 16 1946 to May 19 2020.

Richard Olszewski is Camden councillor for Fortune Green and executive member for finance