Teacher Tales

Sunshine Under One Giant Black Cloud- 22-08-21

Listening to Hooverphonic (thanks Ulrike) playing their track ‘Mad About You’ and the warmth of the string arrangements puts its arms around you and gives you a lush squeeze. It is delightful and this arrangement drifts briefly into Tchaikovsky ‘Swan Lake’ which is a master stroke, in truth. Well worth a listen!

So- here I am once more in the unique oddness of Central Asia. I have to confess to feeling a diverse array of emotion over the last few weeks and being here in Tashkent again has only served to exacerbate the complexity and multitude of passions, and sensations. I haven’t always felt in control but have kept a strong exterior and I do feel we will come through this difficult time. The loss of my brother in law still stops me in my tracks at the oddest of times. Today, I suddenly burst into tears whilst doing the washing up. The moment lasted thirty seconds or so and was gone... Rachel has also struggled at times and perhaps for longer periods but if I am being honest, we have both remained strong for Emma and have had limited time to grieve.

The funeral was a wonderful day. I know this sounds a little tasteless or callous but it really was. On that day, I watched my sister and my two nieces all speak from the heart (causing floods of tears in me, of course) Their courage was a wonder to behold and their determination to say what they needed to say was possibly the most inspiring thing I have ever seen. Immediately after, ‘I’m the King of the Swingers’, a song that made Alan laugh when he was with us, I was called up to give a eulogy. I was anxious that it was too long or even too comical but people were very generous with their praise and the poignant ending really made a lot of folk think. I wanted to do Emma proud and I think I did.

The wake afterwards, at The Swan- Alan’s favourite pub and local, was a proper celebration of his life. My cousin had brought a bonnet off a car for everyone to sign and for Emma to keep forever. It was a fitting tribute. There must have been two hundred people there and I was humbled by the love and the respect that exists in our family. My own father's shanty folk choir sang with great passion and my brave little sis even joined in with a couple of numbers. And so, as I said before and as a pact to my ‘brother’, I will now continue to make plans, to have fun and to live the fullest life I can. It really is the only way.

On the 9th and 10th of August Rach and I headed out to Salisbury for our twenty fifth wedding anniversary- Silver apparently. I sometimes can’t believe how old I am becoming. It was a good couple of nights and despite the horror of what had happened my parents still had the thought and the love to ring ahead and order wine to be placed in our room (red and white nonetheless) along with flower petals made into interlocking hearts on the bed sheets. We also managed to get a free drink in the bar. It was a lovely surprise and the time away was very much needed.

Twenty five years ago, Rach and I had our stag and hen evenings in Salisbury and so many folk came to join in. In fact for a few years, we made a pilgrimage to this place to enjoy the pleasant beers and the great historical atmosphere. It was moving to revisit the key places like Harnham Mill (where we paddled of course), The Haunch of Venison, the Wyndham Arm, Old Sarums and the cathedral with the scary striding madonna. I remember first walking these spaces when I was only eighteen and with what seemed like endless time and joy. We’ve had plenty of joy but it certainly isn’t endless and my mortality is very much fixed like a clamp in my mind. This time was just as wonderful, but very different.

Only two days after the funeral, we headed back to Tashers and typically, this was not the stress free experience we needed and in these covid times, travelling is awkward. We endured yet another person  shoving a stick up our noses and tickle our tonsils. This time, they went on for about thirty seconds. It was thoroughly unpleasant and at significant cost (some folk are obviously rubbing their hands in glee somewhere).

The direct flight to Uzbekistan is still not running and so we booked a flight to Istanbul and then on to Tashkent. I was so proud of Rachel as she ran across Istanbul airport with her bad back, as we desperately hoped to make the tight transfer. It is strange that whenever you happen to be in a rush, everyone and indeed everything else seems to move in slow motion and so it was this time. One lady at security appeared to take an age to remove her laptop from her case, that as my volcanic frustration bubbled in my guts, I almost charged forward and removed it for her. Thankfully, I somehow shut my drawbridge mouth and slammed the portcullis down and with some slow breathing exercises, calmed down long enough for her to complete the task.

Once on the plane to Tashkent, we were required to fill in a form to say where we would be completing our fourteen day quarantine in Uzbekistan. The translation into English was terrifyingly Orwellian with phrases like, ‘during the pandemic regime’ and ‘you will suffer the full punishment of the republican state regime’. You are required by law here, to quarantine regardless of where you have come from, what vaccines you have had, and indeed, even if you have a negative pcr, which of course everyone needed to have to even set foot on the plane. That is about all I can legally say about that at this stage. You never know who is watching

On arrival, Rachel had to claim a visa but initially there were no staff to complete this task and so, after an exhausting journey, we waited and waited and waited... Eventually, a chap arrived who was surprisingly helpful and even charged us less than we expected- only 115 dollars. After another long wait for cases- where we thought that peraps they’d been left in Turkey, we left the airport. We were back!

So tomorrow, we return to school and I have not the faintest ideas what I am doing. Hay ho! As I look back over my holiday, there is much to ponder and remember. We ticked all of the boxes we wanted to tick; saw the people we wanted to see; helped our kids and spent quality time with quality people. Yet this summer will forever have a black cloud sitting over it for we lost one of our own and one of the best!

Hope is Everything 30-07-21

Three days ago, I was lying in my daughter’s new rented flat in Leyton, North London, wondering what to title my next blog and realising, I had so much to say. I came up with a title, ‘A Summer of Many Beds’ or another, ‘Wherever I Lay My Head That’s My Home’ and yet the incident of July 28th sucked all of the life out of me. Out of respect, I will not go into the details but on that day, I lost my brother in law who was killed in a motorcycle accident.

When I received the call, I was in central London with Georgia and her lovely boyfriend River, hoping to spoil them rotten. The pain I felt in the minutes and hours after the call from my sister are so difficult to describe and only those who have known grief will ever understand. I thought of my nieces, and of course, my sister and how much they would be suffering and this compounded all of my hurt and all of my pain, tightening my guts and sometimes even taking my legs away from me. Rachel was and is amazing, and was startlingly strong under pressure. I love her so much and somehow, I managed to drive us back home to my sister and to my family. The waves of grief are so odd, moving through you like a sadness poison that you cannot quell. They rise and then recede and you can function again but the pain is something I never want to feel again and yet, unless I am next, I know I will. I hope it’s not any time soon.

The days that have followed have been emotionally draining and I am exhausted and yet with plenty of wine, immense humour, wonderful camaraderie, resilience (I know it’s a buzz word at the moment) and love, we have survived and we will continue to do so. I love my family. They are incredible. Everything else I write would seem pithy, futile or redundant if it weren’t for the sense of courage and hope that I have seen in my outstandingly courageous and fabulous sister and her two brave daughters who have left me humbled in every way. It is for them that I will continue to speak of the good and the hope and for them, that I will continue to enjoy life and refuse to surrender to morbid thoughts or allow myself to be seized by the sharp claws of misery and depression. I know my sister and her family will recover and will continue to have outstanding lives.

And so, what else have we been doing...well...we hired a van in Cambridge and successfully moved my daughter from Cambridge to London. In truth, I was reticent and I am dubious about this decision as it is so expensive and the rewards seem out of proportion but I am a bald, overweight middle aged man with a haircut slightly reminiscent of Adolf Hitler’s and so maybe I’m not the best judge of great decisions! The truth though is that River and Georgia are happily in love and want to be in the middle of the action and London is where it is certainly happening. I wish them all the best and am proud of what they have achieved so far.

Whilst in Cambridge, we managed to enjoy a lovely evening at the Vietnamese restaurant Pho which, as before, was wonderful and one of those meals where, you eat and your taste buds sparkle and fuse like electric wires and yet, at the same time, you feel the goodness and nutrition moving through you like a good wave. Georgia looked happy and well and when my children are happy, we are too.

The week before moving Georgia, I was able to sleep in yet another bed- this time at David and Olivia’s (friends from my theatre days at Hasland). We travelled to Buxton to watch the outstanding Steve Cowley in a performance of the monologue ‘Battlecry’ written by Matt Fox and Steve himself. This was a moving and at times heart wrenching depiction of post traumatic stress disorder in soldiers. The writing was good but Steve’s performance was, as it usually is, staggering.

After the show, we drank and chatted with lots of my friends from the Hasland theatre and it was the first time in three years that I felt as if I really wanted to return to England. Olivia, Nicky and even John Beli were beckoning me at one point like sirens from the nautical sagas, wishing me to come back. I have to admit to feeling sorry for them as Covid has meant that they have been unable to pursue their passion for acting and yet, hope remains and one day I may act with these guys again. At least I hope I will...

On returning to Loughborough, we had our third Linden theatre evening which was a roaring success once again. I performed the Queen Mab monologue from Romeo and Juliet (badly- which is annoying as I didn’t respond to the nerves as well as I usually do) but highlights of the night included wonderful poems from Georgia and Kyle as well as some ukele playing (so brave of my boy) and some great singing from Rachel, my sister along with sensitive guitar accompaniment from my dad. Mum and myself read an awful lot of poems again and they seem to have been received rather well. I’d hoped they would be.

As we approach the end of a strange and challenging summer holidays, I am beginning to contemplate what else we might be able to do. Rach and I had hoped to take the ‘kids’ (Ha- 20 and 22) to Edinburgh but with the chaos and the huge amount of work required to support my sister, this may have to be put on hold. Let’s see. Hopefully, we might manage one more little trip before we head back to Tashkent. In the meantime, I have been given permission by my boss to stay here for an extra couple of weeks, to ensure I make it to the funeral and to make sure I get more time with my sister and family. Things will get better. I’m sure they will. I hope..

Distracting Myself from Queen Mab-17-07-21

Queen Mab is not simply crawling over my nose as I sleep but seems to have moved herself in to my brain with her wagon and entourage. It is monologue time again and with the Linden theatre night only a week away, I have to get this monologue ingrained in my head. Traditionally, our evening of frivolities and theatrical entertainment begins with a Shakespeare monologue. It is ridiculous, but I do put pressure on myself for this moment. I want to be good. I want people to like it and so, Queen Mab stays there- all of the time!

The weather is hot today and after some seriously gloomy weather for almost the entire time that we have been back in the UK, it is now lovely and full of sunshine. Today, we have some down time after what has been a very busy period for us and I have slept in five different beds since returning (this is not as exciting as it sounds by the way). Currently I am back at my mum and dad’s and I am cooking tonight so lots to think about. I want to impress them with something lovely and veggie. Hmm...think on.

Over the last week and a bit we have managed to catch up with friends in Chesterfield though some of Rachel’s friends were caught by the inevitable ‘ping’ from the NHS app, meaning they felt compelled to isolate. I heard on the radio that nearly a million people had been ‘pinged’ or sent a message to self-isolate over the last seven days. When you consider that many people are not using it correctly or pretending to use it, then you can only imagine how high that figure might become.

In almost every bar, every restaurant and some shops, you are supposed to sign in and on average, we have been visiting six or seven places a day. The chance of someone being in one of those places with Coronavirus when we have been there is very high given that over 40000 people a day are claiming to have Covid. However, having faced isolation on our return already, we do not want it again and so we pretend to sign in to places. To some this is reckless; to me, essential. We must allow the cogs of industry and commerce to continue turning: they have been left rusty, damaged and sometimes broken and we simply have to get back to normal. On Monday, most restrictions will be lifted but it feels a long way from the ‘Freedom Day’ (as it is touted) that people were dreaming of. The government clearly want to open the country up but the do gooders, the super sensible, the frightened and frankly, the boring, seem to want to maintain this madness! Therefore, our government of grinning invertebrates have announced that restrictions will be lifted but said that we should still be wearing masks, socially distancing and the like. This way, if all works out well, they’ll claim it was down to their outstanding management of this crisis but if not, they will blame the people for being irresponsible and not following guidelines. There will be arguments, and belligerence in the shops; managers will need to consider who their customers are and confusion will reign supreme. As usual, people will be vehement with their ill-substantiated views and in the end, when this chaos finally abates, the common working people will pay the country’s debt. Of that, I am sure.

Anyway- time will tell as it always does.

It was great to catch up with Mairi and Steve and we enjoyed a cracking curry and a soft bed for a couple of nights before we headed back. Kyle, my dad and Alan along with my good self headed to Codnor to begin a walking mini-break which would end in Doncaster. The walk was designed by my father and followed the same trail that Eric Stainsby and his friend Alain trod, in our book, The Weft and the Warp. A travel blog will follow. It was a toughie and Kyle was certainly a mess at the end, though he did very well. My dad was amazing as always- now 70! And yet he was still the most consistent walker of us all.

On the second night, we watched the European Final, which was agonising, and ended in penalties. Our keeper Jordan Pickford was incredible but it wasn’t enough and the Italians seized the victory- leaving chants of ‘It’s coming Rome’ on the lips of Italian fans.

Rachel headed with Georgia to Criccieth for some down time with her auntie and uncle. Georgia was stressed for the most part, by all accounts, which is a shame but it has been a difficult time as we have been trying to get her sorted with a new house down in London. After a number of failures and confusion and a moment that was likely to cost me over 7000 pounds, Georgia rang us and announced that all was well and nothing was needed after all. Thank fate for that!

I also managed to get away for some quality time with mum- visiting Boston in Lincolnshire and briefly driving to the sea in Hunstanton. More boxes were ticks: chips at the beach, a pint with a seaview, a stroll through the wind with the lapping tide by my feet and of course the devouring of freshly cooked doughnuts. I really enjoyed myself and so did mum. It is amazing how a trip to the sea can cleanse the soul. So, all in all, we have had a great time and even found time to drive Kyle to his new house via an expensive trip to IKEA. So now, we relax briefly before I nip down to Cambridge to bring Georgiekins back to us for a few days. It is all go- and there is a lot to think about but Queen Mab is still there tutting and shaking her head. I better learn my lines.

Strangely Underwhelmed by my Homeland- 29-06-21

I’ve just been watching Joanna Lumley presenting a travel programme and ‘lo and behold’ she was in Tashkent, and then Samarkand. It is strange indeed to see the place where you live, on the television, being presented as a place people should visit. Only three days ago, we were in Tashkent and to see its finest buildings in a programme was surreal.

Getting safely back to blighty was a huge relief for both Rachel and I but was not without its nervy moments (more on that later). What surprised me the most however, was how I felt when driving, walking around or just generally existing in the UK. Most people are familiar with the feelings many experience after returning to their house after a holiday; like returning to an old friend. I didn’t feel that. I wanted to see my family but I didn’t feel anything about this country where I was born and where I have spent most of my life.

The last few days in Uzbekistan were conversely, fully charged with emotion. We said our goodbyes to friends who won’t be returning and some who have become important people in our lives. We enjoyed a splashdown pool party at Gemma and Chris’ house and a fun staff do with free booze and lots of dances. This frivolity and pathos was followed by the anxiety caused by the detailed preparation one has to do before travelling, in this time of the pandemic. Once upon a time, a passport, a smile and a jaunty English step would carry you to pretty much anywhere in the world but as I stated, in my previous blog, it is far more complicated these days.

On the night of our return, I couldn’t relax, I couldn’t sleep and I found it difficult to control the gurgling in my stomach as the self-destructive part of my brain gnawed at me and made me imagine a range of scenarios, all of which ended in calamity. As I age, these feelings seem to increase and they’re not pleasant.

We were flying at 5.45am but once friends messaged us to say that the queues were lengthy, we decided to head off to the airport an hour before we were planning to leave. It was prudent that we did, as Tashkent airport was bedlam. There were swarms of people outside the airport alone and we had to survive the typical queue jumping, and complete disregard for personal space. The queue at our check in desk wasn’t ridiculous but everything takes at least four or five times longer at Tashkent airport. The staff were lovely and pleasant as always but it seems to take an age to check in each individual. One of our friends, who is leaving Tashers for good and who was laden with numerous cases, a small child and a heavily pregnant wife, asked me if I’d check in one of his bags, and dutifully I said, ‘”of course”. After standing for what seemed like an eternity at the passport check section, after check in- where they also checked your passport- I was stopped before security- where they also check your passport and asked whether I had a license for my knife!

A knife!

What? I didn’t have a knife!

My friend however, had what turned out to be a machete type object in the case he’d checked in under my name. It was a very nervy experience and after a little posturing and people ignoring me, a gentleman just told us to go. Strange but a huge relief.

The six hour flight to Frankfurt passed by without incident and I have to say that the organisation and the systems at Frankfurt were superb. Even the security guys were hilarious and had lots of banter whilst doing their jobs professionally. I enjoyed the short journey between terminals on the Skytrain which was like something out of ‘Logan’s Run’.

On the Frankfurt flight, I had a wonderful chat with a young man who was a similar age to Kyle but who had travelled all over the world already. He was from Hamburg and was fluent in English. We discussed politics, history, football, travel plans and careers. The time ‘flew’ by (please excuse the pun) and we soon had our feet back on the turf at ‘blighty’. The organisation at Heathrow was initially as bad if not worse than Tashkent (something I didn’t think possible) and we stood in a queue at passport control for at least twenty minutes without moving an inch. All around, were exasperated passengers, perhaps wondering if this queue might be their final resting place.

A surge forward came as if from nowhere and it became apparent that we’d been waiting for staff to arrive. At first, each person was being checked for all of their seemingly endless documents needed to enter the country but a ‘bright spark’ must have realised that this was never going to work. Signs displayed in the airport were asking for a two metre socially distanced gap between people but if travellers had adhered to this, most people would have still been on the plane or maybe in Frankfurt!

The ‘jobsworth’ approach was actually creating a potential cauldron of covid, forcing thousands of people closer together. That said, we all had PCR tests, so I guess the risk was miniscule in truth. 

The aforementioned  ‘bright spark’ instructed staff to spot check a chosen few and let the rest of us through. Before long, we were through customs and could finally feel happy to be back in our homeland. Now, it is all about watching Wimbledon and hoping England can win the Euros whilst being incarcerated within our father in law's home. How dystopian does that sound? 

Almost Time to Wrap the year up- 17-06-21

 ‘Procrastination is the thief of time’, my old mentor Tezza used to say to me on a regular basis along with a number of other sage-like statements. Yet here I am, procrastinating as ever. I am writing this blog because I don’t really want to do any more school work, even though I am at work and certainly should be. In my defence it is quiet at the moment, with exams completed, and student attendance very low. I planned an activity week for our department and it working really well, with students excited and busy and certainly active. That said, I still have drama department planning due for next year and should in theory ‘crack on’.

The bizarre thing about having too much time is that you somehow run out of energy or desire. Deadlines, being overworked and having less time often make one far more productive. We have, including today, only four and half days of term left- all grades are in, reports finished, marking complete, course ended and our thoughts are firmly fixed on some time back in the UK with our loved ones. Flights to Frankfurt are booked for the 24th January and we just hope that we don’t become a red zone here in Uzbekistan or have a random lockdown. Equally precarious is the possibility that Germany is placed on the red list. As it stands, Frankfurt is amber and we want it to stay that way, at least until we land in Heathrow.

Travelling is a complex pursuit these days and where once you simply showed a passport at customs, you now need on-going flight tickets, PCR tests, locator forms, a booking form for your test kits, proof of vaccine and ‘heaven knows’ what else! Every country has different restrictions, changeable rules and those rules change depending on variable circumstances in the nation you belong to or indeed the country you live in. It is enough to have you scratching your head at the very least. Anxiety takes hold and threatens to dominate with every web search; the filling in of every form and the announcements from the British government.

Life at work and in Uzbekistan has been contrastingly very relaxing: the sun (albeit a little too hot) blaring down and beers flowing. Last weekend we watched England win their opening game at the Euros with a 1v0 win against Croatia and I enjoyed the French Open final where Djokovic came back from two sets down to become the only male player in the open era to win every grand slam at least twice. We drank lots, ate pizza and laughed. It was fun. Rachel met Iona, Cameron and Zulfiya’s baby and had lots of hugs which she enjoyed a lot.

Last Friday night we held our first graduation and ‘muggins’ here was the master of ceremonies. It seems to happen that wherever I go, I am picked to do these public speaking tasks. I know I don’t mind the limelight but I don’t seek these opportunities out. I am very happy to relax and pass the baton to some other person willing to stand in front of parents and students and strut their funky stuff but it doesn’t happen. Anyway, I survived and enjoyed a beer or two afterwards.

On Monday, I took the Year 11 and 12 students to Pyramide, a small resort on the shores of lake Charvak. Here you can swim and hire a pedalo. However, the highlight was a ride on a speed boat which was exhilarating and hilarious, especially when one of the student’s hats flew off her head and dropped into the cold water. This destination has so much potential but everything is far too expensive and once again, in serious need of maintenance. The hotel building itself looks like the headquarters of some sort of Scientology movement: three pyramid structures with a sloping roof that looks designed to ski upon. Our students were impeccably well behaved and genuinely great company and I began to think about how lucky I am to be able to work with these wonderful young people who have so much determination and gusto and who are so personable and very witty.

This weekend, we are at a pool party at the Acting Head of Primary’s place and on Tuesday, we have the final staff do. Wednesday will be all about packing, checking...worrying...checking...worrying etc.

This weary middle aged man is more than ready for home. 

Flying Up Underground- 06-06-21

The heat of the sun has somehow got under my skin and into the bones so that even now, like meat that has changed its taste after prolonged marinating, I cannot seem to vanquish the sun, however long I sit under the air con. It has been as high as 46 degrees today at times and in these temperatures you must be near water. Therefore, Rach and I headed to the Grand Mir hotel, paid our 400, 000 soum and lay by the pool as if we were on holiday in some exotic resort. It was very pleasant indeed and just what we needed after our late night out on Saturday.

Our good friend, Captain America (Kurt) had invited us to watch Flying Up- a very respected band in Uzbekistan and a band I saw two years ago. They weren’t as good this time, to be honest, but it was great to get out, have some beers and wine, good chat and see some live music. I think, other than Kurt, we were the oldest people in the club. It certainly looked that way.

The venue- VM bar- is excellent and is part of the underground scene in Uzbekistan, which flies in the face of the increasing Islamic tendencies of the nation. It is ironic that the venue is actually underground, like one of these cellar venues that you see in some of the UK’s big cities. The atmosphere was great, and included some of the LGBTQ community, who are oppressed in this country. The walls are covered in luminescent paintings of beautiful people, that glow in the dark of the concert lighting. It was great to see the ‘daddy’ Cameron arrive, albeit late- as he’d initially gone to the wrong venue. The day before, his lovely wife Zulfiya had given birth to his first child, Iona. Both Rach and I could not be more happy for him.

Friday night was a mad panic. It was clear, speaking to staff around the campus, that tickets on the Frankfurt flight home (one of the few ways remaining that avoid the red zones) were running out. We raced home after work and found that all of the cheap flights had gone. Desperate to get home, we agreed to pay the extra (double the price) only for our bank to scupper our plans. Rach tried with her card and it was declined. No problem. Breathe. Stay calm. It will all be well. I told myself, whilst trying my credit card.

Declined!

I was furious and a little over dramatic, to be honest. I hate negative situations where you cannot control anything or even influence them. We received a message from the fraud department asking us to click Y for ‘Yes’, if it was us. We duly did as we were told.

Result.

No.

No result at all; just more refusals.

I called the Fraud department three times- after being cut off twice, but they said it was a problem at the Uzbekistan Airways end. Very possible. This is Uzbekistan. Eventually we paid by Uzcard and our good friend Richard dropped some money to me so we’re not out of pocket for the next two weeks. The ticket prices had gone up again.

I have been forced to consider this new world of security and I know that people will scoff at what I’m about to say, but I preferred it when there wasn’t this much bureaucracy and control. We live in a world of passwords, changing passwords, verifications and levels of security that even the person who owns an account struggles to access their own stuff. I despise it. Yes, if there was no security and you got stung, you’d be very glad of that security, I hear you say. You’re probably right. However, I just feel that this is like all of the westernised health and safety rules and changes to our cultural routines, like not taking a photograph of your child’s achievements in the swimming pool in case you get labelled a paedophile. Yes, we need some security and yes we need to be vigilant but do we really have to inconvenience all of us for the sake of the rare ‘evil’? (I include paedophiles and fraudsters).

I also appreciate that I know very little about the sophistication of cyber crime and to an expert, sound like a moron. Nevertheless... The ticket prices continued to rise. All told, the whole emotional episode of me screaming at computers and HSBC staff and Rachel trying to show some restraint and calm me down, cost us about five hundred pounds, not including the phone calls home from Uzbekistan. Yes, I guess there are stories of fraudsters taking thousands and thousands so I should be grateful I suppose but as I said to one of the HSBC representatives- “I Just want to spend the money I have earned. It is me. I am not a fraudster! Please let me come home!”

After the madness of Friday evening, I met up with my department for a meal at Peggy’s- a pleasant Mexican restaurant with a live band that even played Albeniz. Dad would have loved them. They were very good. So, this week, I suppose we’ve been underground to watch ‘Flying Up’.

Hopefully we can stay in the air long enough to get home, where we can hug our loved ones. 

Plenty of Sunshine 23-05-21

We have been handed a lovely present this week- two extra days off school!

Water pipes in the building need to be fiddled with and so we are not at all welcome and must stay at home until Wednesday. I believe I can survive it. In truth, we are still obliged to teach online but it is a very pleasant though that I won’t have to get up until eight o’clock for two days instead of 6.30. I’m on the balcony today having settled in for a day of ‘pottering restfulness’.

I like days like this where there is no real plan but a few ‘bits and bobs’ you need or want to get done or address in some way and in whatever order seems appropriate or even inappropriate. My first task was writing this blog and listening to the composition my father has just completed- a rural idyll. It is very impressive actually.

It is our family quiz tonight and I’m the quiz master- thankfully, I’ve managed to ‘cobble’ a few questions together from a previous quiz I wrote: recycling is great!

So, we are four and half weeks from the end of our school term and we still don’t have tickets. It is getting close to the time where we will have to take the plunge but I’m still nervous about it. It seems most likely that we will head out through Frankfurt and ‘pop’ over to Manchester from there. Let’s see.

On Friday we celebrated our friend Tommy’s 43rd birthday at an underground place called ‘Vinnie’s bar’. It was very good and the beer quite reasonable but what made the night most enjoyable was the live band, who were superb! We don’t hear much live music in Uzbekistan so when you hear a band as good as this, it is doubly exciting- they played some fantastic covers of many classic songs, including some Pink Floyd, which I really enjoyed.

Yesterday, we had our second Covid jab and now have paperwork that should help us when we travel, perhaps not yet, but in the future. This time, we have avoided the illness and discomfort that followed the first jab, for which we are greatly relieved. We nipped over to Steve’s new place in the afternoon, after some delightful breakfast at Breadly. It was the first time we got to see Shakhnoza and Steve’s baby and Rach was able to get some ‘cuddle’ time.

Thankfully, with it being thirty three degrees, Steve had filled up his outdoor pool and so we lounged about in that for a while with beer by the side. Richard and Elizna also came over and we had a lot of banter, plenty of drinks and a barbecue.

Tashkent itself is lovely this time of year and after the debacle and depression of the lockdown of last year, it is great to see so many folk embracing the sunshine, marvelling at the wonderful and artistic fountains and generally smiling their way through life. Last weekend, we enjoyed a day by the pool at the Wyndham. It was like we were on holiday and was a very relaxing experience.

By the end of next week we will be in the high thirties and we chuckle when we see the seemingly endless rain that seems to fall upon our loved ones back in the UK. Hopefully, if all works out well, we’ll leave here just before it becomes unbearable and maybe the sun will be waiting for us, when the rains have passed.

Something Magical- 12-05-21

There is something magical, comforting and therapeutic about being near water- to hear the lapping against a shore; and see the ripples of a light current and the shimmering reflections on the water’s surface. Sadly, this is a rare experience in Tashkent- the capital of a double landlocked country and so it was delightful to be invited to visit Uyabuguz reservoir or Tashkent Sea as the locals call it.

Now, to be very clear, this is no sea but it is a considerably expansive amount of water with a couple of very attractive islands and a number of rentable bungalows and other accommodation all along its shoreline. There is no beach but you can swim here and a variety of boats bring energy and diversity to the lake: speedboats, canoes and even banana boats travel along this stretch of water. Rachel and I, of course, hired a pedalo. I have to confess to not really liking these type of boats as I often find that you have to work very hard for very little gain- this feeling was exacerbated when I saw the ‘sorry’ state of the only pedalo we could hire- beaten up, dented, neglected, as if its owner despised it, abused it even. When we alighted, I’m sure I heard a desperate guttural groan as if it might be about to take its last breath. Rachel simply shook her head and said:

“I am not getting on that”.

She did.

I was shocked, as despite its antiquated appearance, it drove very well, with the pedals being surprisingly responsive and the rudder, controlled by a rusty old gearstick was very effective. Slightly short of beer, we sailed across the river and asked at a local restaurant but like all of the places along this stretch, they didn’t serve alcohol. We were resigned to eking out our, to be fair, not inconsiderable supplies, when a chirpy chap called out in excellent English, that he could help us. Once again, the kindness of the people here is incomparable with the lack of it in the United Kingdom or at least the kindness of strangers. This chap, at almost no gain to himself (judging by the tiny price he charged me) called a taxi and asked them to deliver ten bottles of beer, whilst we swam and like solar panels, drew energy from the sun.

This place was like a nature retreat, where you could de-clutter the mind, meditate if you wished or simply sit with your head back listening to the sounds of nature and feeling the warm stroke of the sun on your face.

We had visited the place with our good friends Kayles and Callum and their lovely baby daughter Storm. Barbecue, beer, white wine and general frivolity ensued and there was no ‘shop talk’ whatsoever which made a lovely change.

In the real world, the United Kingdom seems to have almost eradicated coronavirus and the vaccines have been administered to the vulnerable. Here, In Uzbekistan, we have managed to acquire the vaccine too via the International Private clinic, though I think it will be a long long time before the local populace are jabbed. As usual, money and status dictate everything with the western world receiving the virus quickly and even having time to debate its use or on a whim become a ‘Vaccine Refuser’. Yet in the poorer nations, the chance of receiving this vaccine remains small. How privileged we are.

Today is the end of half term. I would be excited but we only actually have two days holiday and much of that will no doubt be spent worrying about how and when we can travel to see our family.

An ordeal at the pool- 07-05-21

I am here once more, like many years ago, sitting silently in an examination room as the weary clock plods on. Here, in Uzbekistan, we unfortunately practice the fine art of invigilation whereas our UK friends managed to shed that responsibility long ago, saving themselves many hours of monotony in the process. Theoretically, I shouldn’t be typing right now and should in fact, be focusing my full attention on the room of young people unfortunate enough to be sitting this 2 and a half hour Mathematics’ paper.

I am such a rebel!

It’s been very hot lately and is rarely below thirty degrees at the moment though thankfully some cloud covering today as brought us a little respite.

I have managed to maintain my new fitness regime which has been satisfying and the pool after school has provided a welcome ‘cooling off’. Yesterday, Rachel and I tried the local pool, only a quarter of a mile away and what a fiasco that turned out to be. On arrival, I walked up the weather beaten stairs to what I thought was the ticket office of the pool to find a very severe looking lady who looked at me with suspicious eyes, narrowed like a gunfighter before drawing. I made breaststroke actions with my arms and she said ‘Da’. We seemed to be getting somewhere until a ‘helpful’ gentleman joined us to help translate via the Google app. After some odd and frankly terrible translations it became clear that I needed a ‘spravka’ or health check, before I would be allowed in the pool. I explained that I had had one through school but didn’t have it with me. Resigned to leave and seek out my usual pool, the gentleman told me that the austere looking lady would provide me with ‘spravka’ services.

I called Rachel in and before long I was being measured for my height and weight. I couldn’t quite work this out. Is there an unacceptable height for swimming? Do people under four feet or those over six expire in chlorine protected water? Are fat people banned or slim people told to leave out of sheer jealousy? At no point was I asked if I could swim? It was all very odd indeed. Next was blood pressure, temperature checks and all manner of shenanigans unexpected. I have no idea what the results were except it is patently clear that I need to keep swimming, judging by my apparent obesity. We left without any clear results and with the eyes of a scowling woman, who I think found us very irritating, boring into our backs.

Next door was the Kassa- we weren’t in the pool quite yet. The ticket office was closed and locked. I laughed, but it was hysteria, and screwed up my eyes in frustration. I was beginning to consider why it is probably easier to buy a gun in the USA than to go swimming in Tashkent. Thankfully, a lovely man said he would ring the member of staff and five minutes later she returned and sold us a ticket to swim.

I plunged into that pool and it never felt so good to throw myself into water, in order to exercise.

My time in the exam room has come to an end and so too, this brief blog. See you soon- those poor students!

A Night with the Queen- 22-04-21

So a few weeks have ‘drifted’ by and how is the ‘Tashkent Blob’? Well, I am pleased to report that he is already slightly less blobby although there is certainly still work to do. It has been two and a half weeks under the new regime of eating good homemade muesli, swimming three times a week and laying off the booze (not entirely of course). The nightly sit ups and press ups are becoming more challenging as I add two each week. This can’t go on forever, of course. On Sunday, I am adding yoga to the mix, courtesy of my daughter and her ever present influence in my life.

I have to be honest and give myself a hefty slap on the back. There have been temptations and it is tough, after a full day’s teaching, to drag yourself to the pool but I have managed to do so and it is certainly getting easier. I have already shed the fat man waddle and am beginning to have real hope that by the end of the academic year, I will be a stone lighter and ready to no doubt put it all back on when I, ‘fingers crossed’, return to the UK. This is something I am trying desperately not to hope for but I keep imagining hugging my loved ones back in my homeland and perhaps in almost equal measure: the curry; the great cheeses; wonderful beers and salt and vinegar crisps!

This weekend, we will get the vaccine through our private health insurance and this should help us with any future travel plans as we start to consider the way back- negotiating our way around quarantine rules, amber, green and red zones, PCR tests and the like. Travel has become a complicated and anxiety inducing activity, in a way none of us could have predicted. Fortunately, the Covid figures are very low in the UK now with only four deaths a few days ago, which is very encouraging indeed and yet here in Uzbekistan there has been a not insignificant spike which has led to a renewal of the more severe social measures, with police calling out their messages on loud speakers from cars. We are hanging in and hoping that we won’t be locked down and that more importantly, the airport will not close- what a disaster that would be!

Aside from the foreboding torment of the decisions we will soon have to make about our summer plans, life has been excellent. I had a great and successful night of playing pool last Friday and we have enjoyed some very clement weather as well as purchase more plants for the balconies and some little tables to hold our drinks.

We attended a wonderful Queen tribute band concert on Tuesday night as did many of the staff. It was a great gig, with a full orchestra and a very creditable band who sung most of the Queen repertoire. Only a few days before the gig, the venue had been altered and in classic Uzbek style chaos, the seats we had bought were now irrelevant. Nevertheless, it all worked out rather well and before long we were sitting down on good seats waiting for the first track, which I wrongly predicted would be ‘I Want it All’. The venue itself can house up to six thousand people and is a typical Russian type structure: blocky, robust, severe and a little space-age on the outside- like a building you might see, in a film version of Orwell’s ‘1984’. I wasn’t sure whether we were going to a concert or entering a government building from where we might never return.

Inside, the building is grandiose, with marble almost everywhere- the walls, the floors and even the toilets (not the actual toilets). The ceilings sported huge bright chandeliers and the staircases (also marble) were broad and formidable. Before the gig began, there was an announcement in Russian (I think) which a local friend translated as:

1. Wear your mask!

2. Don’t shout out!

3. Do not stand up out of your seat!

My dad would love the last of these and that’s how rock concerts were in the 1970s but during my own youthful years I cannot remember going to a popular music concert and remaining in my seat. The rules made me think of the hotel in Urgench, where it said ‘laughter was forbidden’.

I wasn’t sure whether these theatre rules were measures to combat Covid or whether this was another example of the Uzbek state trying to keep some standards and order. It might be tolerable to have a tribute band playing loud, and rocky westernised music but I’m not sure if the state is ready for the freedom of expression that accompanies such sound. We respectfully clapped quietly-ish throughout, with some whooping at times. However, during the encore, an Uzbek chap ran down the aisle and ‘cut loose’, twisting his body into shapes I thought barely possible, making everyone laugh. This coupled with songs such as ‘We Will Rock You’, ‘We are the champions’ and ‘The Show Must go on,’ caused a domino effect which rippled through the auditorium. Almost everyone was on their feet, singing, dancing and making a huge noise. The people had spoken- loudly!!

When we left the venue, there was a thunderstorm, perhaps this was pathetic fallacy- explosions of excitement and a cleansing of a ‘traditional rule of law culture’ replaced by freshness and liberty and ‘rocking out’. We headed to Mandarin for a couple of beers with Gemma and Chris- our Geordie mates before heading back to our flat for a snifter of brandy and a midnight bed.

With the Edexcel exams cancelled, I am beavering away at school, trying to evidence the progress of our students who are working like little ‘Trojans’. I mark therefore I am and ‘twill be so for a while. However, I am almost out of the main undergrowth and am beginning to see the light (not in a spiritual way). I just hope that this light leads Rach and I to a restriction free United Kingdom, where we can spoil our loved ones ‘something rotten’.

Sorting the Tashkent Fatty- 05-04-20

It’s approaching 10 o’clock and I am exhausted.

I have a real issue with my brain and I have no idea why. It is as if he will not shut off; will not relax or accept each mini oblivion. It is not anxiety, worry, stress or dark thoughts that he omits or forms in the dark matter but simply creativity and the desire to read, write, think...

It is strange, how much I resent bed time, almost like a child being told it is school in the morning. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do, I simply come alive at night, even if I know I’m shattered.

Today, we returned to work after a very pleasant two week break. Yet this time, it was with a new commitment and determination. It is finally time to address the obvious issue that I have turned into a fat boy! The fine living and ready access to socialising, alcohol and good food has had its inevitable impact, and I am beginning to get that ‘little fat man waddle’.

So, I ate a beautiful homemade muesli this morning, packed a healthy lunch and took a taxi to the Olympic size swimming pool after work. I managed 16 lengths which is hardly amazing but a steady start. When I returned home we ate a lovely potato and cabbage stew, which was far tastier than it sounds. Rachel and I have decided to start planning our weekly meals and are keen to show a proper commitment to making a difference. I think we’ll do it. No beer or wine today and tomorrow is basically a repeat of today.

The last two weeks have been full of fun and some pleasant rest. We finally managed to reach the Aral sea and I was able to show Rachel the magic of Khiva as well as get my first proper glimpse of Nukus, Urgench and Moynaq. There is a full blog growing on my Travel Blog channel (check it out!)

Once we returned, we relaxed in the flat; I played the piano a lot and realised how easy music is when it is just based around chords and not classical training. That’s taken me long enough: I do have A level Music after all.

I enjoyed a night out with some of the chaps watching Iraq narrowly defeat Uzbekistan 1v0 in a friendly at a hugely packed stadium. Although, I was appalled at the way the police ran this game.

There were perhaps 25000 people there, which is busy and I suppose people were keen to get out to a proper game, after so much Covid uncertainty and depression. Yet, with thousands of excited fans on the outskirts of the stadium, the police and security in their seemingly infinite stupidity decided to open just two of the gates- I think there are at least eight. The bottle necked that followed made me think of Hillsborough, with people pushing forwards and the police telling them to back off. Each person was being individually checked whilst the shoving worsened and one or two people were clearly in pain. A young father with three small children was shouting at the police as his kids were being crushed and I told the police man to stop checking people and realise what a problem they had caused.

“Oh, tourist!” He said beckoning me through as if I was riding on a red carpet.

“No”, I said, “Open the gates!”

Whilst it is humbling, once more, to see how much respect is proffered for visitors; it is equally exasperating to see how the state treats its own people. One young man spoke with wonderful English, saying to me,

“Is it not like this in your country”?

“No”, I said.

“ I am so sorry,” he said as if the fault was his own. It wasn’t.

“Why won’t they open the gates”? I asked.

He shrugged. I honestly think no-one knows why. After a while of the police losing their cool, shouting and bawling at folk after they had caused the problem in the first place, we managed to get into the stadium. Some people were still entering around 25 minutes into the match. It was madness.

Last Thursday, we had a great night out at Kayley’s 30th which was held at Belle Maman, a restaurant that doesn’t appeal at all from the outside with its gaudy pinky purple exterior and cartoon woman gurning in a sinister fashion as if she might actually eat whoever enters. However, the inside is fabulous and fun with wonderful portraits on the walls and and stars. There is a great dance floor which livens up later in the evening. We had a lovely time and I even managed a bit of dancing- rotund or not- I will not be stopped. Ha ha.

There was more football at Pactakor on Friday which finished in a 2v1 win for the league leaders who also had a man sent off. Our final fun of the week was a quiz which I wrote for the ex-compound folk and a few extra friends. We stage the event at Nick and Stacey’s small mansion and enjoyed the warmth of the evening and the outdoor bar. It was particularly fun to see Tommy who had been isolated due to rampant covid running through his family. He was clearly happy to be out and was merrier than most.

And so, here we are at the beginning of the last term- a twelve week stint, with only two days off. Foot to the floor, cheeks puffed out and time to focus on getting fit for a summer I would pray for, if only I wasn’t an atheist.

Oh, we're staying in Tashkent next year.

A Borgeois Saturday- 14-03-20

I suppose the biggest reflective moment of yesterday happened when the ten of us: nine blokes and Rachel, were standing chatting at a, no doubt, annoyingly loud volume on a balcony overlooking the mountains. We smiled and drank wine with ‘gay abandon’ as three slightly startled men moved empty wine bottles from one place to another and women took boxes of wine we had purchased to our plush, white mini bus. For a moment I paused and thought- what was that startled expression- genuine surprise, annoyance, frustration, hope...I felt for a moment like a member of the raj as we, on our raised dais symbolically and literally stared down upon those less fortunate, scurrying about their menial work, whilst we drunk ourselves into near oblivion on the best Uzbek wine I have ever tried. I am exaggerating a little, of course for the purposes of artistic license but it was a sincere feeling, albeit fleeting, of self-reflection.

It wasn’t entirely comfortable and yet, the moment passed and we continued as if nothing had happened. How terribly bourgeois we are.

So what is this all about? I add, realising I have been awfully 'in medias res' about this blog so far. Well- my very good friend Gareth is leaving Tashkent in a matter of days and we wanted to do something special for him.

In a mad moment of guess work, we had picked out a cheap wine in a shop a few weeks ago. The wine was from a place called Chateau Hamkor and was desperate to sound French- I guess no one has told them that most wine producing nations have caught the French up and largely overtaken them. The wine though was very good and hugely better than the Bagizigan we have been drinking for all too long. On investigation, I found that this winery was a micro place exporting wine but loathe to risk too much in the national market as Uzbeks don’t really understand the juice of the grape. I researched Chateau Hamkor and discovered that they offered wine tours. It was a no brainer. Gareth loves the grape!

What a day it was: great company, with banter flowing as bountifully as the wine. We drove up into the mountains to a vineyard which was, of course, not at all in full bloom- it is March after all. Afterwards, we headed off to the wine factory (manufacturer I suppose). This place looked, felt and smelt like a cliché of the old soviet union with machinery that looked like relics from the second world war. Once we had enjoyed the tour of the exterior, we were invited into the wine cellars and storage- full of beautiful dusty bottles, oak barrels and the like. We were all in Hog’s Heaven and it wasn’t long before we were climbing the steps to the promised land...the wine tasting room.

The young lady, a master wine maker who had travelled all over the world talked us very professionally through six wines ( Kurt and Nick’s flirting managed to get us one more than we paid for). They were very good. Yes, we have been starved of good wine for a long time but I genuinely believe these wines would hold up against those of Italy, Australia, South Africa and the rest. Apparently, we bought more wines than any tour group they hde ever had so they were happy to leave us on the balcony drinking extra bottles and so we did.

And now, I have come to where I begun- looking down, literally, upon the working folk and drinking heartily. How strange is life? After a good session of drinking we drove to a top Uzbek restaurant where we ate excellent local food and you guessed it- drank more wine! Before too much longer, we were in the van and ending back with our booty, like drunken road pirates.

It was a wonderful day and a great send off for Gareth and yet today I have been back to the grindstone, working all day in preparation for the last week of term. It should be just about ‘hanging in’ until the end of the term but there is also the final decision on where we will be next year, as I contemplate a very real job offer to work in Sao Paulo Brazil next year. It is a real conundrum which I cannot even begin to unravel tonight- a knot of fear, frustration, hope, desire and desperation. Wish me luck as I try to unravel it.

Frustrated Hope- 07-03-21

I have just supped a couple of luscious sips of soothing IPA in a restaurant I absolutely love but cannot pronounce the name of. Good beer- proper beer, is still rare here but some places do some excellent craft brews and this particular beer is as good as most British ones.

Rachel is having a tattoo done today, on her thigh I think. She checked into Uncle Chill- the previously mentioned coolest barbers in Tashkent at around two. Strange how she used to be so anti-tattoo and yet now, she has quite a few, influenced, no doubt, by Georgia and Kyle. Whilst she bears the pain, I have been keeping myself busy trying to organise our upcoming trip- finally- to the Aral sea and its environs. I hoped to get some shopping in but the wait for tickets at the train station was seemingly interminable. When I arrived it was quite busy with about seven or eight people in all of the queues (a loose term, as Uzbeks don’t queue). They sprawl across an area and you don’t really know where to put yourself. I chose a queue and ‘stuck to my guns’, resisting the urge to play the queue lottery that we used to play, before Post Offices in the UK made everyone wait in the same line. I made a bad call! None of the queues moved quickly but the one I stood in was extremely depressing.

In front of me were around eight people waiting to be served by a young lass who would have been pretty if she ever cared to smile. Wow- she really had a face of thunder. I glanced to the right and there was an older woman, who sported almost exactly the same expression: service with a smile doesn’t exist at the ticket office of Tashkent train station. As I waited, gritting my teeth and forcing myself to internalise the volcanic exasperated sigh that bubbled within, I contemplated how it was possible for the service here to be this slow. One person asking for a ticket was taking up to ten, even fifteen minutes to complete. There is of course the constant looking at passports, the tapping of bureaucratic details into the computer and the snail like pace of the staff but even accounting for all of this, it was hard to know how it could be this sedate:

“I want 2 tickets to .......”

“OK- the cost is....!"

Print tickets.

Surely this is all that needs to be done? When I finally arrived at the desk and showed the young customer service assistant my google translated message, she nodded and then never looked at me again. I’m not saying I’m an oil painting or some Greek Adonis but it was as if she was repulsed by me. I had even put on my best aftershave (ok- my only aftershave). I slid my passports across the covid threshold of ubiquitous plastic and waited patiently, forcing myself to continue to hold in the eruption and practically gurning to avoid making facial expressions of despair and frustrated bemusement. The lady appeared not to notice and she certainly didn’t care. She left the room a couple of times, answered the landline and her mobile and for fully eight minutes did not attend to my request or even recognise my existence. She then began the process of sorting my tickets with all of the speedy service of an asthmatic sloth. A sloth, I might add, who is distracted by the way the lights shine on the leaves of the tree they are crawling along, for this move to servicing me was intermittent and full of constant, unknown distractions. Eventually my tickets were printed and I left, puffing my cheeks out in relief. I don’t know what it was but something made me check the tickets before leaving.

She had booked the tickets for the wrong date!

Without manners and with no embarrassment I barged back to the front of the queue and explained her mistake. No reaction. None. Her expression was automaton like and I began to wonder if she was a cyborg or a remote controlled human. She simply re-issued the ticket (fractionally quicker than the first time). I checked my phone for the time and realised I had been in the station for an hour.

Last night, we had a lot of fun and drunk plenty- moving from the local Shashlyk bar to Broadway; then to Uncle Chill to play pool before going to an underground club I’ve never been to before. We drank a lot of alcohol and it was great to bond with Gareth. He leaves in a fortnight or so and I will miss him enormously: a true gentleman and a fascinating guy with a rich and varied life history which lends itself to long nights of drinking and chatting.

We have a three day weekend and so, despite the frustration at the train station, we are feeling good. I am still in turmoil about the future however. We have a contract to sign- erm... yesterday and I haven’t signed- a job interview for a position in Sao Paulo which sounds exciting and a thought in my mind that maybe some time off, just chilling at Rachel’s dad could be beneficial for us and our mental health. Ultimately, we will probably have to do another year here in Uzbekistan but I know Rachel doesn’t want to stay and I am ready for a change and yet, the complexities of contracts, references, retention bonuses and the like make the whole thing very complicated.

It was book week at school last week for the primary school and it was strange, whilst I was racing around, ensuring that our exam entries were correct for the 7th March deadline, to keep bumping into teaching staff dressed as crayons. Don’t ask!

So, the UK continues to do a wonderful job in vaccinating its citizens and here, the only hope of a vaccine was splashed across the road when the lorries carrying the vaccines were in a huge pile up. I’m sure there’ll be more- vaccines I mean- though more pile ups is probably more likely.  The date of June 21st for everything being back to normal in the UK is only two days before we break up and we are crossing everything that we can return to our homeland and our family.

The sun usually shines on us, so let’s hope it does again. 

One Wedding and A Funeral- 28-02-20

There has been what I can only describe as a vigil outside our apartment block for the whole weekend. We assume that it is a funeral but in a world where in many countries funerals have been either banned or certainly reduced, it seems strange to see so many people in one space. Doubly odd is the sheer length of time spent- I mean there is surely less time of mourning when some monarchs die.

When we returned wearily home from work on Thursday, we were greeted by a red carpet into our apartment block, two lengthy parallel lines of chairs outside the flats and leading up to the steps where the entrance is. There were no people but a wooden palette running the length of each line of chairs presumably for the guests, whenever they were to arrive, to put their feet on.

This week, we were asked to attend school on a Saturday for International Day- a great success, if I was to be honest- and so when we left the building in the morning we were greeted by a pile of shoes and many mourners who were saying prayers, and then shaking hands and butting heads gently (it is a custom here amongst men). We had been watching them for a while from our flat window with cultural fascination. I had known from a previous discussion with a colleague, that men attend funerals or at least the morning part- no pun intended- and so it was that maybe fifty men dressed almost identically in long winter coats and hats- all of the same colour sat down, prayed-stood up, greeted each other and then sat down and repeated the process again.

Awkwardly, we slipped through a gap by the wall of the ground floor flats and surreptitiously slid into a nearby taxi.

When we returned in the evening, the funeral (if that is what it was) was still in full mourn with maybe a slightly smaller number of visitors but still repeating the same process. I wondered if this had been a sort of relay funeral or whether these were the same guests. It was hard to tell. I am not sure if this is how it always is or whether this person was particularly special. I did catch a sneak view of some women through the door of one of the flats where the pile of shoes had certainly grown. The door was briefly left ajar but was soon closed as I passed- not because I passed, I’m sure. I don’t think I’m that important.

Last night we visited the Modern Chinese which has become a fave of ours, for some pleasant grub but after a lovely meal, with its customary hilarious poor service, we returned and the chairs were still there. The guests, mourners...were gone except for one lone male who seemed to stand in contemplation, smoking a cigarette and looking blankly into space. Maybe he was the last of the guests or maybe I misjudged the whole thing and he was just a bloke who lived near us, having a smoke.

This morning however, I heard the prayers announced from about 7.30am. Wow! They had started early again. The guests- the mourners, back, with a vengeance. Many more this time- this funeral or whatever it was, was growing, multiplying and as I sit tapping away this morning, I am wondering how much longer it will go on for.

I must clarify at this stage that I don’t know for certain that it is a funeral. I mean, it could be the beginning of a new cult- there might be sacrifices later or perhaps just a group of friends and family who like to pray together. What is curious is that three natural zones seem to have developed- an arrival zone- a prayer zone and a mingle zone: once people have been in the mingle zone for a certain time span, they re-enter the arrival zone. This is why living in another country with an entirely different culture is so interesting.

This is a great segway into my next subject matter- International Day. Oh, what a day- a wonderful day of food, dancing, music and displays from all over the world. I was actually in awe at times of the work that had gone in to making this day so great and particularly as I had done almost nothing. Of course, I was called upon to be the MC and I guess that is my contribution but that was super easy and I like to show off so it wasn’t even work really.

Classrooms were adorned with trinkets, images, cultural games, facts, artefacts and the like and parents, students and teachers couldn’t really fail to be impressed. For me, the two highlights were the Uzbek rhythm group who played in the school yard, which included duelling and synchronised drumming seemingly born on another planet: they continually seemed to build to a wonderful dramatic cadence before starting again- like a prog rock song or a german opera that threatens never to end but a million times more exciting. The second highlight was the dance from Azerbaijan- a typically male dance with crouched leg jumps and erm some muscular posturing that I can only imagine or marvel at these days. It was full of shouts, cries and wails and the audience were pumped by the end, before being genuinely shocked as the dancers spun in perfect time and removed their hats, revealing beautiful lady locks that fell down their shoulders. They were women. We had no idea. Brilliant!

It has been some time since I’ve updated the blog (weekly- Ha!) Therefore it is inevitably going to be a long one.

Last weekend, I was the best man at my friend Cameron’s wedding. It was an honour from the moment we sipped a 40 dollar per class Glenmorangie in the Hyatt hotel, the night before the wedding to the hilarious sight of Cameron getting his makeover at Uncle Chill- the wax up the nose, like a scene reminiscent of the ‘wubble’ sketch from ‘Blackadder’, being a particular highlight, to the wedding itself (gorgeous and emotional) to the evening meal, where I delivered an impromptu and brief speech, in which I read two wonderfully emotive letters from Cameron’s parents. To be a parent eh?

I have continued to search for jobs but am getting far less nibbles than I expected, as I feel my letters and CV are decent but I’m not sure if Covid is the problem, or perhaps I’m not as good an applicant as I think I am. What has made the whole process more immediate is that, we have to sign contracts for next year by next Friday. It is clear that Rachel doesn’t want to be here anymore, which I understand- we had dreams of seaside and sun and wonderful new experiences and this isn’t it anymore. I’ve been here for nearly three years. It is time for a change and the problem is whether we persist and do one more year or not sign the contract and have faith in ourselves that we’ll get something. Most people are ‘staying put’ and financially this make great sense but where will we be emotionally this time next year. Last week, we tried to book a trip to Dubai- Rach needs this (we both do) only to discover that Rachel’s passport expires in 5 months time. You need six months remaining to get into Dubai so it looks like it won’t happen.

I have to be honest and say that I’m beginning to think it might be time to go home.

The thought sends an anxious shudder down my spine...

By the way, the funeral cortege are still there.

Feeling Energised- 06-02-21

It is so warm in the apartment, that it is difficult to deal with the wearing of any clothes whatsoever. Please do not linger on the image I am presenting but nakedness is an almost must in our flat. As I will have mentioned in blogs from when I first arrived in Uzbekistan, we cannot control the heating here- for only the state will decide when it is hot or cold. As usual, the heating, and the air con compete with each other, using up endless amounts of energy, at a time when our planet is in the ‘swamp of despair’. What makes it worse- on a purely personal level- is that our air con is losing this war of attrition.

I’m not complaining really- the moans are transient and a little pathetic- it is better than being freezing cold and when I look at the weather in Loughborough and Chesterfield, I am reminded about how bloody dreadful it is in the UK- rain almost daily, or snow...Here in Tashkent we are usually between fourteen and eighteen degrees, which for the first week in February is ‘pretty’ decent. The last week has been a lot of fun- on Tuesday I attended my first ever live futsal match (5 a side football, to the uninitiated). A rather less than classic encounter between the mighty football nation of Uzbekistan and the er...well...world futsal champions, Argentina. I expected carnage on the score sheet; a battering 9 or 10 goals separating the sides for surely there would be more goals in 5 a side. Nope. 1 v 0. Argentina dominating the first half and Uzbekistan the second in what was a contest, as close as the score suggests.

The highlight though, was not in the masterclass of close control and technique but the homage paid to the wonderfully gifted Diego Armando Maradona (who died on November 25th 2020). The entire Uzbek teams wore Argentina shirts with a picture of the maestro of the dribble and they had bought Uzbek gowns for the Argentinean team. It was a real display of respect and a silence was held for one of the most talented football players of all time.

I left the venue feeling renewed and we had a couple of Sarbasts in a local Uzbek Milly Taomlar. It was great to be out at such an event in the aftermath of Covid and there was a vibe in the arena, unspoken but it was there nonetheless, hovering in the air and etched on the faces of the spectators- warm and cuddly: a vibe of convivial happiness and camaraderie.

The rest of the week was relatively productive, and I had two interviews, both of which went well and one, far better than I expected. The truth remains that I have no idea about the future and even whether I will go anywhere else, with this dream-squashing pandemic still lying with its arm outstretched across the world. Yet, I am keeping my options well and truly open. Last night we played pool at the coolest barbers in town: a place that not only has a pool table, but a bar and a place that stays open for tattoos and haircuts until 11.00pm. I cannot imagine such a place in the UK.

We had a few rounds of ‘killer’ and then I grabbed a taxi home- the others went on to some house of disrepute and in the words of Forest Gump, ‘that is all I want to say about that.’ One of our party almost talked his way into an impromptu tattoo but thankfully the owner of the establishment was a man of integrity and sense; refusing to do the job as the customer was far too much imbibed with the ‘naughty sauce’. I felt good and left just after eleven, which was sensible. Am I finally getting an old head on these shoulders?

Tomorrow, we host another family quiz on Zoom (who would have imagined that a year or so ago?) and it will be good to see folk. They will probably take more from the experience than we will: the UK is still in full lockdown; schools will not open until March 8th and many businesses have gone under. When you couple this with the ubiquitous rain and the constant sight of that bumbling Etonian flounderer on their screens, it is easy to see why monstrous depression still sits on the gloomy estates of the UK.

Tonight we are off to another social shindig at Wendy’s for jacket tatties and curry and a few board games besides, I think. It is all good for the inner spirit and considering the month of the year, we are energised. Perhaps it is the thought of the upcoming mini-break on February 17th- when hopefully, we will head off to Khiva.

Only a Thin Veneer of Ice Remains- 26-01-21

January has drifted by in a gloomy haze of snow, cold and damp, sitting its cold fat bottom playfully upon the year and with only the slightest suggestion that it is ever going to vacate its seat. In all honesty, I have enjoyed the snow- quite significant and plentiful this year- and the cold on the skin was initially a change from the long months of heat that we had experienced yet now it is deep in the bones. Now, I am ready for a little cuddle of warmth. The forecast seems good and this weekend will  positively balmy at around thirteen degrees.

It has been almost a month since I last wrote my blog but in my defence, I have been very busy indeed. Last weekend we visited Amirsoy- a mountain ski resort, though I was certainly not skiing on my unstable knee (a badminton injury). Nevertheless, it was fun to ride the gondola to the top of the mountains and look across the Narnia-esque spectacular white peaks, and breathe the frosty air into my lungs. The photo opportunities were outstanding: if only my fingers could have withstood the icy grasp of the elements for enough time for me to press ‘click’. It was so cold up there that in less than a minute, I had lost all sensation in my hands.

Once at base camp- (the bar) we enjoyed a suitably chilled beer and made a decision to have a go on the ‘donuts’: basically dingies that you sit in and throw yourself down an icy slope. Rachel loved it, despite having serious doubts when staring down the slope from the top. It was truly exhilarating- our little taste of danger for the day.

In the evening, we shared a meal and beers with our good friends (I think nineteen of us were on the trip) and it was great to ‘catch up' with many people who, like us, had been all but hibernating for the last couple of weeks.

Work has been pleasant enough and my classes continue to be delightful, imbuing me with humility and respect. Indeed, it is this level of joy and happiness that I am experiencing from my teaching that is causing me the most consternation at the moment- well, that and Covid, of course.

Both Rach and I are ready for something new, something dynamic, something fun. Somewhere else, I suppose. And so, the job applications have been going in at a steady rate with perhaps Malaysia and even Thailand coming out as the bookies' favourites. The East really excites me and particularly the chance of being nearer the sea and yet, I do feel the fear factor; the anxiety about the next stage of my educational journey and certainly the very real concern that any job I manage to secure could be removed if Covid throws down its malevolent mist.

These are uncertain times indeed and it is hard to know when to listen to the head and when to listen to the heart.

The UK is still in full lockdown though the vaccines are coming out at a rapid rate and so perhaps the future is bright and yet the death toll has been considerable, to say the least. It is saddening to listen to the thinly veiled melancholy that sits under the smiles of my parents and my children. I know they are simply ‘fed up’ of all of this and desperate for it to end. To add to this, I have become obsessed with the song ‘Daddy’ by none other than Coldplay (well, it would have to be wouldn’t it) which is not some weird pervy song but actually about a child asking their father why they are so far away. It’s too close to home and I really shouldn’t listen to it. But I do.

с Новым Годом- 1-1-21

‘After the shit show of 2020’, I read on Facebook, time and time again- there are some adjustments to the phrase to try and inject some individuality and character, such as- ‘Terrible year- let’s hope 2021 is a better one’ or ‘It’s been the worst year ever but I’ve learnt so much’.

So- I am not insensitive to the plights so many people have faced- losing loved ones; losing jobs and missing family, as well as going stark raving mental indoors, learning to watch ‘paint dry’ and such. I am also taking very careful ninja steps forwards when I say this, as I do not want to come across as the smug assassin but for Rachel and I, 2020 was wonderful. There, I said it and no, I won’t publicise this on social media as that would be insensitive, to say the least and yes, I am not in denial or refusing to remember the strange moments: hell, life is an odd journey all the time anyway and no-one knows what is around the next bend.

Have there been challenges for us this year?

Yes.

Has there been disappointment and uncertainty?

Yes.

Yet, there had been excitement, learning, wonderful connections made with people and variety of experiences I will never forget and remember, my memory is dreadful. We have thus surfed the high waves of destruction like wobbly blobs with dyspraxia and big hearts; slipping and sliding all over the place but refusing to fall off. Lady Luck has been shining on us throughout but I am proud of some of the decisions we made when the pressure was on and although those moments were hugely stressful, I am certain that life would have been so much more boring without them.

My mind remembers the big Welshman, with the huge heart wandering into the bomb site of a kitchen that I have left, and cleaning after me with his clinical precision, which was born in Wales and nurtured in the Royal Air Force (or Farce, as Mark calls it). He lived with us for the best part of two months and we were ‘locked down’ but these days, despite their challenges were hilarious and new and different and that was exciting. We woke up an hour or two later for work, we grabbed tea and coffee and snacks whenever we wanted to; we had a beer together after work and basked in the sunshine; lolling on the tapchan that was on ort balcony. The compound were creative, and we had murder mystery nights, a pub crawl, film nights, karaoke and quizzes.

These were fab times and yes, we wanted lockdown to end but not too soon!

We were lucky enough to travel to Istanbul (only a few weeks before the Covid crisis) which has to be the most wonderful city I have ever visited. Lady luck shined on us again and even the weather was decent, for February. After our prolonged lockdown, we were took a calculated risk that paid off- where others didn’t wish to take the plunge, we booked train tickets to Shahrisabz where we saw some of the most astonishing architecture in the Islamic world as well as sleep in a yurt. On another jaunt, we swam in a desert lake near Nurata and walked along the walls of a fortress constructed by Alexander the Great’s minions.

When all looked impossible in the summer and when we looked like we would be trapped for the whole holiday, Lady luck through us a rope (not a noose) and we grabbed hold with both hands: tickets on a rare flight home. It worked out. We made it. From here we were able to have a week in Weymouth- I had a long weekend on the mysterious isle of Lindisfarne and we basked in the warm sun of Santorini. Many chose not to travel and there were certainly nervy times but we took the risk again and the sun kept shining. We then revelled in almost a month on Crete, entertained and looked after in every way by the wonderful gentleman, Gareth. Again, this was a risk and we didn’t know how we would navigate our way back to Tashers but Lady Luck (BST Tashkent on this occasion) laid on a plane- not a comfortable one it has to be said but we made it back to Uzbekistan with sunshine and smiles flooding through our veins, and memories we will keep until the day we die.

The school term started badly but since November, I have loved every minute and though we couldn’t get home for Christmas, we have enjoyed fantastic feasts, great company, dancing, fun, karaoke and even trips to the mountains in the snow. Tomorrow, we head to Samarkand and Rachel will finally get to see the phenomenal Registan.

In the UK, the situation worsens and yesterday there were more than 50 thousand cases in one day with nearly a thousand deaths. We were so close; frighteningly close to taking one more risk- an air-bridge too far and booking a ticket to go home. It would have been a disaster, as since then, Uzbekistan has closed its airports to most countries and certainly the UK, which is the worst place on Earth for coronavirus at the moment: with the discovery of a highly virulent new strain. We would have been stuck and we would not have been paid. Once again, we made the right choices at the right time and I am so proud of us both for that. It’s not all luck you know.

Yesterday was great and after a meeting about work with a colleague, we headed over to Oleysia and Richards’s for a Russian meal (a delight and stuffed green peppers that were simply delicious). We were well imbibed with boozy goodness before we left for a party at David’s- which was manic, fun and full of many people of all ages, bringing cheer to one another and loving life. Fireworks rained down from the hopeful skies as the midnight hour struck and we were all very, very happy. For some, the midnight knell signalled the execution of a beast named 2020, and an almighty push of the re-set button, but for me, they were just the sounds of celebration.

So- am I simply showing off and saying how great we are? Sort of. And am I saying that I want this to continue. No- of course not. That would be boring! I hate boring! Do I want this explicit uncertainty to stain the pure white sheets of 2021? No. I don’t and yes, I want to get home, see my friends and most importantly my wonderfully creative and inspiring family. I want to travel again to new and exciting places; to make plans- to build memories but whatever, happens, we will continue to have fun and to put that first, whilst we can.

Ho Ho Ho- 22-12-20

I’ve been out. I’m not drunk at all, in terms of losing any sense of control, but it is surprising how hard it is to press the keys on the keyboard at the speedy rate of knots that I usually achieve.

We have just returned from the Steam bar, after a celebratory ‘piss up’ with colleagues after finishing another gruelling term. I say this, but I have to be honest and say, that other than its length, it has been an excellent term for us.

Over the last few days, it has been reported that a new strain of the Coronavirus has been discovered in the United Kingdom. No doubt Donald Trump will call it the ‘Dirty British virus’. I somehow think not. Numbers of cases are through the roof and with the wildly quick and I feel, slightly naive announcement from the government, forty countries, so far, have turned on the UK and band entry of any British citizens. Thankfully, we decided to stay and once again, Rach and I have made the correct choice. I have no idea how all of this will play out but it seems that Boris has now created four tiers of lockdown- or as I like to call it, ‘tiers of a clown’. Families in my homeland have been banned from seeing each other once again- businesses are broken and the entertainment industry is on its arse. Yet, the lockdowns continue. Don’t misunderstand me. I am not insensitive to the reality but with only 0.2% of deaths coming from the thirties and under, I would imagine that the next generation, on which the future rests, is mightily ‘cheesed off’.

Boris’ approach has also flummoxed everyone as his policies are more fickle than Romeo in Shakespeare’s ‘R and J’. He simply wants to please everyone and as most mature people know, when you try to please everyone; when you force the issue; there is rarely, if ever, any sympathy. Here, in Uzbekistan, we continue to do as we wish, as long as we play along with the ‘mask’ nonsense. Staying here for Christmas was the best choice and the only choice for us.

Last week, we enjoyed the Winter Fayre and after a stint as Santa the day before, I donned the red garb and the dense beard once more: I always despise it. I was pleased that people enjoyed it far more than I did, although the whole modern concept of not sitting on Santa’s knee seems to have passed folk by and as usual, parents kept asking for me to put their kid on my knee. One child even tried to kiss me. In truth, as a modern Brit, this seems inappropriate but then I began to be more philosophical: I am not a paedophile so why am I invested in this negative culture. The truth of course is fear, embarrassment and cultural pressure from the masses. Here, people don’t assume that everyone is a paedophile. How refreshing!

We had a little assembly for the staff at the close of play today and the boss gave some awards to the teachers. I was given a certificate for the Best Teacher at British School Tashkent. I had goosebumps and was delighted and a little in awe. It makes all the effort worthwhile. I will certainly smile a lot over the holiday season.

So, we are finally at the end of term and over the next two days we will need to plan and pre-cook a lot of food for Christmas day: we have eleven people coming round and a creative and exciting, tasty menu. Despite not seeing my family, I am looking forward to it immensely: friends, booze, games, music and laughter. It is going to be another great Christmas at the end of a very odd, but still wonderful year.

The Light of Happiness- 13-12-20

The lights glitter everywhere at the moment; sparkling colours shine and flicker in the shop windows and in the parks and on the streets as if the whole of Tashkent is a giant Santa’s grotto. It is hard not to feel happy. Uzbekistan is a largely muslim country but they embrace Christmas, make no mistake and some of the trees have to be the tallest ones I have ever seen. Here in Broadway restaurant, they are playing a rather jazzy version of ‘Santa Claus is coming to Town’ which is quite decent actually, despite the slightly nauseating screechy vocals.

Am I feeling Christmassy? Not really.

It isn’t for any lack of effort from the Uzbeks, that is for sure. It is quite simply because Christmas is about family and with a heavy heart, we have decided that we are staying here in Tashkent for the festive season. Loughborough is in Tier 3 lockdown and we wouldn’t be able to spend time with my parents or Georgia and Kyle without flouting rules and risking enormous fines (however unlikely this would be).

For Rachel it is far worse as Pete is alone for Christmas and I know she feels terrible guilt. Yet, on balance, staying put has to be the right decision and so, we will ‘hole up’ and ‘hang in there’, whilst the new vaccine spreads its protective power across the UK. Hopefully, in March, when we next get a long break, we’ll be able to travel back and have a late Chrimbo with everyone.

This week, I also had some very sad news from home, as one bright light did go out: my uncle died. My dad was certainly struggling when he video messaged me and I just wanted to give him a proper bear hug but it’ll have to wait. I remember so well my uncle and him striding down the hill in Robin Hoods bay, after completing the Coast to Coast walk. They both looked so very happy and I remember my father saying that he could do this for the rest of his life. I will cling on to that memory of them both together doing something great and something memorable.

In spite of all of this, I am, as I mentioned earlier, pretty happy at the moment: we have recently moved house and now have a pleasant and well furnished apartment with a modern kitchen and the sort of bath that you could happily scrub a hippo in, such is its capacity. This is useful as I am certainly getting more rotund.

Our landlady is very kind and thoughtful if slightly overbearing and the area is wonderful: we have three or four of the best restaurants in Tashkent within a kilometre of our ‘digs’.

It has been sad for our compound to break up and have to go their separate ways but I have already begun to organise a ‘Come Dine With Me’ game to start in January which could be fun and keep us socialising. Things might actually turn out better than before. Who knows?

This weekend we ate at a lovely Georgian restaurant and last night, at a place called ‘Modern Chinese’ which was superb. What amazed me more than anything was that once again, we were the only diners in the establishment. The decor was stunning with some wonderful pictures of Beijing and Shanghai on the walls and Chinese lanterns and decorations hang from the ceilings. There are booths with curtains pulled across for privacy and a big open plan dining area for the more gregarious types. Yet, no one in attendance, on a Saturday night!

I am not sure if this because we are in the aftermath of Covid or whether it is simply economics- that Uzbek people cannot afford it: perhaps it is a bit of both. Nevertheless, I cannot understand how restaurants like this can remain open with such limited clientele. Yet, they do.

We had a lot of fun at the bowling alley last night before the Chinese meal and I actually scored 119 in the first game, which is very good for a duffer like me. The music inside was brain-crushingly loud as if we were in some night club or ‘pulling joint’ but in all fairness to them, they agreed to turn it down a little as we had brought baby Storm with us and they could see sense. Apart from this, the place was delightful and the draft beer surprisingly good.

So- with a week to go (and a bit) we look like we’ll be cooking Christmas dinner at home for ourselves and perhaps a couple of lonely friends, who are stuck here in Tashers too. After Boxing Day, we are going to head to Samarkand, a place Rachel hasn’t seen yet so this should be pleasant and on the 29th we are hoping to get back to watch The Nutcracker at the Alisher Navoiyy theatre. Let’s hope it all works out. We will miss family but we’re very resilient these days and I’ve never welcomed in a new year in a place other than Britain so, once again, it ‘ll be a whole new experience and that is exciting.

Oh- and guess who is playing Santa again?

A Whole Lot of Pre-Christmas Nonsense- 01-12-20

God, I love music. I always have, of course, and perhaps this doesn’t need to be said but at the moment, I can’t stop listening to it. I have to be frank and say that prog rock is still my thing but I have been listening to the Vaughan William's symphonies tonight and also Peter Gabriel’s ‘Passion’: Stunningly good. When you’re working hard and listening to music like this, it almost doesn’t feel like work at all.

We’ve just returned from a fantastic weekend up in the mountains just outside Khodjikent: a couple of nights away amongst the snow, the peaks and indulging in booze and good food before relaxing in the sauna and the indoor pool. I say relaxing but Steve and I invented a new sport: beer water football. It is as insane as it sounds and we had to stop the exciting cup final when I head butted the wall and Steve nearly choked to death.

This weekend was certainly needed as this term has been a long one and it is always good to break up term time with some fun. I am sometimes surprised with how many people don’t do this and there are far too many folks presenting the UK mentality at the moment: ‘ooo I can’t go out on a week night’. I have to say that this way of thinking is becoming increasingly common, as if that terrible infection of education in the UK will never stop until it has invaded everywhere. We perhaps shouldn’t talk about invasions at the moment: Covid continues to ravage and plague the world and this so called second wave is now worse than the first one, in most places. Our son has still had no access to university life and it is thoroughly depressing for so many workers, travellers, students and small business owners. A vaccine is apparently up and ready to go but how quickly they will manage to roll it out across the world or whether the world will even have access to its miracle power is anyone’s guess.

My timetable at work is bursting at the seams with nonsense like Santa’s famous sack! No- that isn’t rude and if you thought it was, then that is your issue. I am compering a talent show, directing a film about teaching EAL learners (English as a second language), reprising my annual role as Santa himself and running a live game on a school webinar. I honestly don’t know whether I am coming or going at the moment. The only up side from all of this is that life isn’t boring and after all, it will be over soon (not life I hope but this brief madness).

Anyone for a Humbug?

Yippeeeee...it's Friday and it's Snowing- 20-11-20

So it’s Friday!

Strange how we live for these days and wish our time away isn’t it? To be honest, I have been much more ‘now’, much more ‘present’, since I moved away from my homeland. Yet, there is still a huge sense of relief when you almost arrive at a weekend.

It was minus -12 this morning when we left the house with the two day old snow: pure white with a lethal menace. I almost slipped on my ‘arse’ twice yesterday and if Rach goes, she might break another hip and we certainly could do without that. The change in the weather has been very dramatic indeed but I have to say, the temperatures- though cold do not feel like the cold days in the UK. I think it is the lack of the ‘wind chill’ factor. In Uzbekistan we simply do not get wind- unless we’re eating too much plov I guess!!! Sorry- it has been a long week.

Uncertainty reigns here again but it isn’t the ubiquitous COVID. We were told only a few days ago that our compound, where twelve school families live, is to be demolished and that we have to move before the 31st December. This isn’t wonderful news and particularly for the families with young children who have grown up together and play safely on the compound. For Rachel and I, it is an inconvenience; nothing more. We just hope that we are given time, somewhere pleasant and of course, we need to move before the end of term as we break up on the 22nd December- Christmas surrounded by boxes that aren't presents doesn't sound too appealing.

Despite this news, I have to confess to really enjoying work at the moment: Rachel has settled in to the changes to her new role and I am really happy with my experienced and talented department. My students are some of the best I have ever taught and lessons fly by as we are all so engaged in them. My largest class is twelve and my smallest, only five. It helps that all of my students are in school all of the time now so I don’t need the virtual world quite so often. This is a relief.

So- tonight we will have some time with friends and tomorrow we will hope that the hand of time moves more slowly. A lazy weekend is just what Rach and I need.

A Very Appropriate Memorial- 15-11-20

Seventy five years ago World War two ended, and it was clearly a dramatically important event in human history. If you were in any doubt of that, then please visit Victory Park in Tashkent. It was unveiled to commemorate the lives lost during this terribly violent and uncertain time and my word, what a fantastic job the architects have done (not to ignore the workers of course, who brought the vision to life).

Rach wasn’t feeling great and I was not going to waste my Saturday staying indoors so I grabbed a taxi to the park (about six kilometres away). I decided to circumnavigate the place at first for some exercise and also because I wanted to think through some ideas I had about the future- more on that story later!

After a short walk, I arrived at the main entrance, which is spectacular. There is a wide pathway leading to a central monument, with the years of the war engraved on huge stone tablets, framing the walkway- 1941 to 1945 of course. We are in Uzbekistan now and the war wasn’t the same length for everyone. We forget that sometimes.

Getting into the place was not as easy as you’d expect. You have to buy a ticket ('peanuts' in truth) but the guard stopped me and radioed a colleague, asking me to wait. I was nervous at first, thinking that perhaps I resembled some master criminal they’d been looking for, for ages, and that finally at Victory Park, they would make the arrest.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, a lady arrived and she was the translator and potential guide. I explained that I just wanted to walk around myself. We sorted a ticket and I was in. Why this wasn’t possible fifteen minutes before, I do not know but with a quick rakhmat (thank you) I walked into Victory Park.

I have to say that what they have done is spectacular. The monument at the end of the walkway to the centre is beautifully Russian with strong metal men and the occasional woman standing together as one, in various poses of heroism, unity and strength. In the very centre is a central triangular column and below this monument stands a wonderfully evocative and historically fascinating museum. They have even created a street in Berlin with battles raging and the precision and detail reminded me of the ‘Britain in the Blitz’ section of Flambards’ museum.

The external gardens are adorned with stylish and thought-provoking sculptures, monuments and even creative embellishments like a Panza tank driving through a wall, and a row of trenches that you can walk in. However, for me, the most amazing part and I have to say poignant, was the artistic feature of many people (110 I think) made out of steel wire, I believe, sitting on the floor in identical poses of contemplation, almost like Buddhists. I read the perfectly translated inscription of the art which explained the story of the Uzbek prisoners in a concentration camp in Holland who were part of a sadistic game played by the Nazis: these monsters had decided to make a film to see what happened when they threw bread to starving people who had been systematically tortured. The Uzbeks- so the story goes- did not live up to their expectations. When the bread was thrown, the youngest Uzbek male picked up the bread and gave it to the oldest male. He then divided all of it between the prisoners.

There was no fighting. There was no shouting.

Just quiet dignity...

I left quietly and as thoughtful as I had been in Berlin, when Georgia and I visited some emotional sites where so many had suffered.

Anyway- that future I mentioned earlier. The plan was looking good and Egypt, definitely a hot favourite (pun very much intended) for next year. However, the board at the school are clearly not the type to make quick decisions and we await contracts with a depressing resignation that they will probably never come. The future is once again uncertain and to make things worse, I had a great week here last week and although Rach would not concur, I think I could do another year after this one. School has been delightful and although I do a good five or six hours work on a Sunday, I do not work in the week after 4.30pm and yet I manage to get everything done. Our students are simply splendid and it is a delight to go in to work (well, after the initial shock of the alarm- I must turn the volume down on that).

My Heavy Beating Heart- 03-11-20

My heart keeps beating in an odd fashion at the moment and it is a little disconcerting. I hope it is not stress related but I have feeling it might be. I don’t actually feel consciously stressed in terms of my brain but maybe I am.

It has been a long time since I wrote and the temperature has dropped here in Uzbekistan, often touching close to 0 degrees in the morning but fortunately it still heats up in the middle of the day. It is going to be an awfully long seven weeks and now that the UK are going into yet another full lockdown, there really looks to be no hope whatsoever of us seeing family at Christmas. I am heartbroken and I know my mum, in particular, will find it difficult.

So it seems that Boris Johnson and his moronic bunch of toffs are simply repeating the plan that didn’t really work before- the numbers have gone up because we are testing more, in my view. Like so many people, I am wondering how many more times they will repeat this process that is rotting the mental health of our young people, in particular, keeping students from university, stopping people from getting the medical help they need and creating a divisive culture of haters on either side.

I just don’t see this as better. I really don’t.

Nevertheless, whilst the UK continues to create their nationwide car crash, we are still able to do most things here in Tashkent. A couple of weekends back, we even managed to grab a train to Bukhara. It is not the first time I have been to this fascinating place but it was completely different this time.

We took the sleeper train, which is an experience everyone needs to have. Callum and Kayle, our South African friends, had a great time and courageous as ever, they brought their lovely baby Storm with them. She slept like a...well...a baby I guess.

Rachel enjoyed strolling around the sandy buildings that rub shoulders with the blue domes that punctuate the ancient city. I did notice that there were lots of places closed and it was certainly less busy than last time: this might have been as a result of Covid 19. There was also a lot of rubble lying about and restaurants undergoing restoration or sitting locked up, along with some museums and even the outstanding photo gallery that I was looking forward to revisiting.

I have to say that the restaurants we found (on the verge of the new city), whether it was Bella Italia, the Spanish restaurant or the confidently titled ‘One of a Kind’ were all superb and we enjoyed lovely desserts, cheap beer and bags of inspiration.

It was pleasant to see Kurt, our American friend, who had spent his time ‘chasing the sun’ in Bukhara and we were able to ‘chew the fat’ and put the world to rights.

The final disappointment was that we had to come home and at our last meal we all agreed that we could have stayed a lot longer.

We had lovely time on Saturday and Rachel made bats, and cobwebs to put up on the wall, echoing the efforts of her mother who is sadly no longer with us but certainly, her memories live on, even if it is through Halloween. We cooked some beautiful grub, and lit candles and burnt incense and generally created a fitting ambience. The night was concluded with some very amateur karaoke, which was probably even worse than we thought it was. After all, we were somewhat inebriated?

A long sleep to recover was just what the doctor ordered. I just wish he could cure my heavy beating heart...probably one to ‘keep an eye on’.

A Mirage of the Sphinx- 20-10-20

I have just fallen asleep in the glorious, later afternoon sunshine, listening to the wonderful album, ‘Suits’ by Fish. There is so much great music on this album and I had forgotten how superb really is. People marvel over the likes of Peter Gabriel (I like him by the way) or Phil Collins (who I also respect) but Fish has produced music far superior to either of these in my opinion.

We were tested for Covid again today, hoping to get a negative result, so that we might actually be able to go and do something over this school holiday. Our friends are on the Aral sea trip we had planned, as I write and although I have come to some sort of acceptance, I am still suffering inside a little as this was a trip Rach and I have tried to do three times now. If we can get a negative result then maybe I will be able to go and show her Bukhara and maybe, we can actually do some travelling, which is the main reason why we are here after all.

I have to confess to feeling fine and Rach too. In my case, Covid was simply one slightly sleepy afternoon and I have certainly had far worse hangovers. I know it is different for some so I am certainly not belittling the experience of others but it is so frustrating sitting in the house all day when you feel great. Nevertheless, I have tried to make the most of things and today, I wrote three poems over coffee and created a lovely cauliflower dhal soup with pineapples so I’m certainly looking forward to eating that later tonight.

It has not been easy over the last month and our previous happiness has taken a bit of a battering. That said, we are positive about the future and still hoping to have fun. Last week I was interviewed  for a Head of Secondary position in Cairo- a huge step if I get it and if I decide to take it. Maybe I am lured by the history and the change or maybe Rach and I just need to experience something new. Who knows.

It doesn’t help that the UK is in a ‘right royal mess’ again and that it is very unlikely that we will be able to get back to see our beloved family over Christmas. These are the uncertainties that we continue to have to deal with here in Uzbekistan. We know that if we head back, we will be quarantined in the UK and then quarantined on our return without pay. It isn’t currently worth the risk. So, we live day by day, trying to do our jobs and smiling at the thought of the pyramids and the sphinx that stands in my mind's eye like a mirage.

Disconnected- 10-10-20

I feel really disconnected today.

I was sent home on Friday as I didn’t feel well and when I walk around it’s as if I’m not all there. Yet, at least I have managed to open the laptop and start tapping away. I also feel a little disconnected here in Uzbekistan at the moment. Both Rach and I have been wondering whether the time is right for a new challenge and a new place to visit and work in and it is true that my mind is very muddled.

I haven’t written for a while now and if I’m honest, there hasn’t been much to write about. We’ve both had our heads down grafting over the last few weeks and despite a couple of nice meals out, we haven’t really been doing a great deal. The temperature has dropped, here in Uzbekistan, and the mornings are particularly chilly, yet we haven’t had any rain yet. There is little impact from Covid these days with bars and restaurants open; though, like most countries, the ubiquitous masks are a must! At our school we had 7 cases of Covid amongst our staff which meant we closed for a couple of days for a thorough deep cleansing of the buildings. Thankfully, we are all pretty proficient these days at teaching online and so life carries on as normal, pretty much.

We have one more week to go before we break up for half term and I’m just crossing my fingers that I don’t feel like this next week. If all goes to plan, we’re heading, at long last, for the Aral Sea and then to Khiva. I am extremely excited about this trip but after the previous cancellations, we take nothing for granted anymore.

Heavy Water and a Mug of Green Tea- 27-09-20

I’m crouched over the laptop with a grossly oversized coffee cup full of water for company. So big is the vessel, that at this time of night, I am finding it quite a strain to lift it to my lips. Back in the 1980s, I remember watching Steve Davis sip at his water, whilst the more dynamic, but also, lesser snooker players continued to chug or at least glug on beer. However, this is different as Steve Davis drank from a dainty glass and this coffee cup is somewhat more muscular. However, like Steve Davis, I do feel in control at the moment, despite having been out for several glasses of wine at the Irish bar.

It has been a lovely weekend with a productive and pleasant mix of pastoral pleasures, city life, sport and even some essential work. Yesterday, I played tennis and managed to beat both Chris and David, although my calf started to seize up and it is clear to me that I need a little more rest before I can continue to gallivant all over the court, thinking that I am twenty five again.

Later in the day, we took a taxi to Tashkent City- a new park and residential area that is far from finished yet the parts that are, are beautiful. It is an odd place- a sort of utopia in a building site with water features, a man made but pleasant lake and bars and restaurants. Wrapping its arms around this gorgeous oasis are crane shaped arms of steel as man and machine work together to convert this dust and dirt into a modern metropolis, which seems to be modelled on Dubai. One day, this whole area will be wonderful. These guys mean business.

There is of course, the usual Uzbek magic and madness in equal measure: faux topiary style bears, peacocks and even giraffes adorn the space and there are even dolphins captured by a fabulous sculptor leaping from the concrete floors. Things rarely make sense here but wow- what a space to visit. We loved it! Rach and I enjoyed a very modern and reasonably priced lunch at ‘Arrows and Sparrows’ before heading home.

In the evening, I worked like a trooper on my presentation for the job interview I have next week, only for my friend to rip me to bits in my little mock interview. Thankfully the real thing isn’t until next week so I have time to improve.

Today, I managed to finish my planning early enough and after a decent feed we joined some of the chaps for footy and booze. The last couple of weeks have been fine- the weather is still quite hot in the day but mornings are cool and once the sun goes down, you can find yourself reaching for a jumper.

Both Rach and I are ready for a change now- definitely. It is exciting as we begin our search and the nibble we’ve had from Cairo is certainly tempting, especially as they have confirmed that they will give Rachel the Year 2 teaching job. Now we have high hopes; the water has been stirred- maybe we’ll be sucked into the vortex.

Bloody hell, my mind is unravelling again and I was having a fantasy of a sort of inverse ‘Wizard of Oz’ scene- not a tornado but a vortex sucking me in, not carrying me away. By the way, I have only been drinking the local merlot so there is no excuse. I hope I’ll wake in Cairo and not in Oz but for now, I’m going to finish this giant mug of water and make myself a green tea.

Peace all. And happy birthday to my gorgeous daughter Georgia.

Controlling the Situation- 12-09-20

It’s been a delightful day today with a pleasant mix of: getting things done; relaxing; fun and good food and booze.

The weather here is still close to thirty degrees and the pool on the compound, though a little cool, is still refreshing. After six, the temperature drops quickly, so you have to get your swim in early to fully enjoy it.

This morning we plodded down to Yunusobod bazaar which is now fully open. It was strange as there were two lines to enter the bazaar: one which was checking temperatures, and spraying people, sanitising them to within an inch of their lives and the other, where you simply wandered through as normal (not the ‘new’ bloody normal but the actual flippin’ normal). We plumped for the easy one and were strolling around the shops and the stalls within seconds- with face masks on, of course.

We were very productive and had soon filled Rachel’s trolley. We were a little overly excitable at the plant shop and ended up leaving the place looking like two Ents from The Lord of the Rings. A lovely chap offered us a taxi service and we seized upon the opportunity so enthusiastically that I think he thought we were a little crazy- well it was that or the fact that I looked like an Ent and spoke from within a hedge of countless twigs and leaves.

This afternoon, I swam, slept and played tennis and tonight I’m heading out to watch the Liverpool v Leeds game. It’s been an age since I watched some footy. It’s been fine getting back to Tashers and the week in the quarantine hotel- which ended up being six days- was far more manageable than I thought it would be; despite our bags being left at Istanbul airport. Grrr.

To be honest, work helped us as we had to learn a huge amount very quickly and I was teaching from the hotel room. Once the bags finally arrived, we were able to drink copious amounts of wine, work hard, and watch Netflix. I recommend ‘Stranger Things’.

The hotel itself was upmarket for Uzbekistan with the usual post-modern Georgian chique. It was odd to not be able to leave and to have less than palatable foods arrive three times a day to your door; a little like being imprisoned I suppose. 

The trip to Tashkent involved three flights (I can only put my hand over my face in shame regarding my carbon footprint). We were able to stay at the Istanbul airport hotel the night before and everything up to that moment was calm, and relaxed. The Istanbul to Tashkent leg was less serene. We waited for two hours to theoretically put our bags on the plane (the ones that were then left in Istanbul). We sat on the plane for forty five minutes before takeoff. We were served a cupcake for dinner. We waited for two hours to sort our visas on arrival. We waited on the bus for a police escort for half an hour. We hadn’t had water for hours.

It was tiresome.

Yet we were there and our jobs were secure. Relief!

School has been a strange place, as we are now teaching actual and virtual lessons with many children not returning through parental fear of Covid 19. We have to teach in a mask all day which is also challenging, especially as I tend to use my facial expression a lot in my teaching. This is the world we now live in and the world I fear we will be living in for some time. I even hear that the UK are introducing more restrictions and that gatherings of more than six aren’t allowed, either inside or out.

It’s been great to see folk again but getting to know the newbies has been a slow process as we have been straight into the flow of teaching and there has been no INSET where we gather, chat and discover the numerous back stories. I’m sure that will happen in time. So the routine of another year begins and we are back to the grindstone. Rach and I have to think and think hard about whether we’re going to stay here after this year or whether it is time for a new adventure- I think the latter sounds very appealing but it’s the work that we have to put in, that we’re less keen to do.

I guess we have to control the situation and not let the situation control us.

So as I reflect on this unforgettable summer, I smile as once again we have had such good fun and have not allowed life to stop us.

Bring it on! 26-08-20

The dogs are barking again and their echoes bounce off the hills and the walls of the lovely little houses here in Drapanos. I used to think that dogs just slept most of the time but somehow these little tinkers bark in the morning, the afternoon, the evening and the middle of the night. Perhaps they are different ones and deliberately take it in shifts to annoy us. To be honest, it is the only noise here. The evenings are lovely and I welcome them like a good friend; even now, perhaps an hour or so before dusk, I am gently excited about the darkness and the lights the glow from the mellow lighting that we have here. The flowers smell wonderful at night and the stars brighten a clear sky so that I often caught a little hypnotised by the moment. I love it here. We are happy here. We feel at one with Greece. Yet, tonight is out last night for tomorrow, we leave.

It will certainly be with heavy hearts that we do so, but as is often the case, I am sure that once we begin our travels, we will be keen to move on to new adventures. The plan is to fly to Bucharest tomorrow afternoon, then from there, head to Istanbul where we will stay the night- this time in a hotel before we fly back to our second home: Tashkent.

I am very much looking forward to seeing my good friends again and sipping average beer in the shashlik. I am keen to ‘catch up’ with what the students have been doing and though I am woefully underprepared, I have to confess to being ready to teach again. It is like a strange illness I guess, that I cannot cure- the weird need to teach.

Unfortunately, the whole experience of travelling home is tainted by the dread quarantine that we have to face when we arrive. From what we know, we will be bussed off to a hotel, where we will be forced to stay for ten days, despite being tested –proper ‘belt and braces’ in Uzbekistan. I hear tales off three meals a day being brought to your hotel room door and being left outside for you to collect- not ideal for me as a vegetarian. Uzbeks don’t really do vegetarianism. I will no doubt be served with plov or meat samsa or shasklik. I have heard people say it is like being in prison and I take their point: there is certainly some forced incarceration but as with most things these days, I don’t feel as irritated or anxious about it as perhaps I might. Rachel and I have spoken already about the importance of this time: we will have- time to plan some menus for when we get out; work on some lessons and some ideas for teaching; have a chance to spend some quality time with each other (nudge nudge wink wink) and of course binge watch a load of Netflix. The plan will be to sneak in a shed load of booze (well an old suitcase full anyway) too so that we can relax a little and have profound discussion about, well, everything (all profound discussions work better with a little vin rouge).

So- I guess it is now time for me to reflect on a wonderful summer holidays. We feel smug at the moment, like the cat that got the brandy laced cream. We left Uzbekistan before it collapsed back into lockdown; we arrived in the UK as measures were softened (though no-one ever really knew what they were doing in the UK) and we left for Greece just before more measures were hinted at in terms of travelling here. Greece are increasing their control here on Crete as of yesterday and it seems that people will have more restrictions when we leave. Uzbekistan is now out of lockdown and the bars and restaurants are open- time to make a move again. Coronavirus has always been there- in the news; in reality and clipping at our heels but we’ve pretty much stayed ahead of it and whilst it might have chased us with a degree of mighty determination, we have out run it.

Now, I am very, very aware of the phrase, ‘pride comes before a fall’ and ‘wherever there is pleasure there is pain’, so I hold off on totally syrup-covered smugness but I’m nodding like a football manager who can see his team is the best and there are only ten minutes left to hold on to the 1v0 lead. I think we’ve nearly made it but I'd love to hear the final whistle. The quarantine will be something we have never experienced before but it’s ok- it really is. It’s just another experience to embrace. Bring it on!

The dogs have stopped by the way: the silence before the charge. Perhaps they know something I don’t.

Happy Moments 17-08-20

It’s the eve of work. How do I feel?

Odd...is the word that stands out.

In almost a quarter of a century of teaching I have never ever started a term like this. Still a long, long way from Uzbekistan, stranded (if you’ll indulge me) in Crete. If I’m honest, it’s been a wonderful place to stay and now that our friends Tommy and Leanne and the kids have arrived, we’re having a lot of fun: beach days, lovely meals and lots of banter.

What is odd is the fact we’re nowhere near our place of work and that we do not know when we will head back at all. Covid seems to be dropping rapidly but Uzbekistan still make Istanbul airport a ‘RED’ zone and this would mean we’d be forced to go into Government quarantine- we have no idea what this might be. The horror stories are rife, however ,though I won’t go into them (you never know who might be reading).

Tonight we went out for a meal at what looked like a wonderful, traditional Greek taverna expecting good things- Gareth had told us it was a beautiful place that sold delicious food. He was half right: the place was rustic but very aesthetically pleasing but the food, well, pretty dreadful. I had visions of Gordon Ramsey sitting there and calling the chef over to explain themselves. Rachel’s dish tasted like a savoury Christmas pudding and must have had half a kilo of nutmeg in it whilst mine tasted fractionally better, yet the sauce was like a baby had been sick on the plate. We enjoyed the half litre of retsina but the local rose was dire. Now, I will qualify this statement by saying that Rach and I are not fussy when it comes down to wine and we usually lap the cheapo local wine up with delight but this was appalling- we still drank it by the way. To be fair, the entire meal was as ‘cheap as chips’ but even so, it is hard to explain the poor standards.

So, looking ahead, with the world seemingly in improvement, yet with bizarre government decisions flying around like confetti at a wedding, I wonder what is next for Rach and I. However, despite the occasional cramp of anxiety, I am very happy and largely living in the moment. May the moments continue to be as good as they are, here on Crete.

Embracing the Charm 09/08/20

The crickets are the loudest I’ve ever heard here on the mountainside in the Chania area of Crete. Though the warmth of the day has dissipated and they are a little more relaxed with their chirping (I know that it isn’t the official term for it but I’m not David Attenborough!) The village we are in is Drapanos and we are on a small housing estate with beautiful, bisu houses with pastel colours ; some adorned with roses, and a number of other stunning flowers that I do not recognise. It is super calm here, almost serene with no noise pollution and glowing lamps and fairy lights lending an extraordinay prepossessing charm to the evening air. There is a shared pool but it feels like it’s ours as it is virtually outside our back door and its delicious blue glows as it is sumptiously lit with a neon light set into the wall of the pool.

I am reminded of our time on Knoydart though it is very different in many ways. However, it is the quietness and the slow pace of life that is similar and sublime. I remember visiting the excellent Mr Matthews and looking out over Skye from the Knoydart penisula on the western coast of Scotland. On that occasion, it took me three days to adjust to the relaxation and the unhurried nature of life. This time however, it is instantaneous- a measure of how far I have come, in terms of my mental health.

We arrived here from Santorini after a week of basking in the glory and intense, vibrant beauty of that wonderful island, with its undulating , volcanic coastline, balmy seas and towns that seems to defy nature: hanging like giant white roses off the cliffs. We had a great time in Santorini with my mum and dad and it was fabulous to spend some quality time with them- it meant a lot. You guessed it -a travel blog will follow.

Like many people in the UK, we were anxious about travelling, not because of the risk of Covid 19 to our health but its monstrous ability to destroy travel plans. At the airport we were lucky as Rach had a crutch and we were rushed to the front- we were also not tested for the unspeakable virus (mum and Dad neither). Were we lucky (probably) or is it not as difficult as the media are presenting to the citizens of the UK. There were tests, of course, but not many. The Seacat across the Aegean to Crete was mesmerising- travelling speeds of up to forty miles an hour and we were hypnotised by the white water, that lifted from the sea and crashed into the air. We were also treated to a magical sunset as we approached the port in Heraklion.

To see Gareth waving with excitement was a relief and we knew that we were in capable hands. Like Santorini, Crete seems far more relaxed than both the UK and Uzbekistan- and apart from wearing masks in the shops, it is as if Coronavirus doesn’t exist. Gareth was right in saying, ‘nothing touches us here’. Today, I drank wine, swam, sunbathed, talked about a huge range of subjects with Gareth and the day passed by delightfully- no TV, no rushing around and no drama whatsoever.

I could get used to it.

As for work and the ‘lingering ear monster’? Is he, she or it still around. Yes. Absolutely. Yet now the creature is quieter, a vague whisper in the air, trying to punctuate the serenity but struggling- maybe even the ‘ear monster’ is feeling happily apathetic too. Nevertheless, we can’t live like this for ever and tomorrow I have a meeting with the Head of Secondary about results. Back to the day job Tris!

We still have no idea when we will be able to return but as long as we get paid, I am not in a huge rush- Uzbekistan is in strict lockdown (Soviet style) as mentioned in my previous blog and I’m not overly keen to be stuck in that draconian world again. However, we miss all of our colleagues and the family of our housing compound (estate sounds less prison like doesn’t it?)

We will get the first flight available and face the music with everyone else. In the meantime we will continue to embrace the now!

The Lingering Ear Monster 31-07-20

Another precipe; another tightrope to walk; another step on to the burning coals.

Tomorrow, we head to Manchester airport with a one way ticket to Thira in Santorini. Now, for most people this would be simply a delight and a much needed holiday after the months of chaos caused by the Coronavirus or perhaps our response to it. However, for us, this decision is as risky as ever. We have rented our house out now so can’t return to it if anything goes wrong and I don’t really want to keep putting on my parents or Pete. Unfortunately, there are still no planes to Uzbekistan and although we assume our school will continue to employ us, there has been precious little information forthcoming from our HR department and so the belly is getting a bit wobbly (yes, I do need to exercise a little more too). In my more anxious moments I could see us stuck without money in the greek islands with the lingering ear monster telling me what an idiot I’ve been and what a mess I’ve caused.

Thankfully, we are meeting a good friend on Crete who will let us stay in his house for the forseeable future and hopefully from there we will be able to teach online, hopefully not out stay our welcome and hopefully, we will get paid! You may notice quite a few ‘hopefullies’ there and that is what is causing the uncertainty. To add to the concern, Rachel fell in Salisbury a few weeks ago and has fractured her hip. She has been a real trooper though and is coping with one crutch and my Herr Flick gags.

As usual though, we are throwing ourselves into the madness and hoping that Lady Luck is smiling upon us. We were lucky to get out of Uzbekistan before the lockdown became more like a dystopian nightmare (cars banned at the weekend and over 65s not allowed out of the house). And now, the UK, having been relatively open, seems to be creeping back towards more severe measures including locking regions, cities or even towns down with almost no notice whatsoever. Santorini is relatively untouched so as long as nothing changes, we should be well. Hopefully, in a couple of weeks, Uzbekistan will improve and we’ll be able to get back to our Central Asian home.

I have enjoyed our time back in the UK. Fortunately, we have managed to spend some quality time with both the kids and our family. It has been magnificent. A huge highlight was our recent two night stay on Lindisfarne on the North East coast. This is a truly magical place and though I have visited it before, I have never stayed on the island and been able to watch the tide come in over the causeway. It wasn’t quite ‘Woman in Black’ thankfully- more romantic and beautiful than scary and isolating. We walked the headland and visited the lime kilns, the castle (well, it’s exterior) and the priory. We saw hundreds of seals out on the rocks and strolled the beaches despite the cloudy weather and the occasional showery downpours. The food at The Ship Inn was excellent and it was wonderful to spend time with family, including my two lovely nieces.

Since being back, I have been able to see Georgia again in Cambridge and sort of catch up with a little work. During this time, everyone in the UK is now wearing masks in shops- it is odd even though we are used to it from our time in Uzbekistan. If a person from a year ago could have had a window into this world they would be hugely befuddled, wondering why so many ganagsters and shoplifters were prevalent in every supermarket. The UK has never looked so ‘bad ass’.

Boris continues to umm and err as often as ever, sounding a little like a children’s TV programme character, a bumbling caricature of himself- a spoilt Etonian who would be fun in the pub but who you wouldn’t trust to find his way to the bar (mind you, with covid 19, he wouldn’t be allowed to go anyway). I understand this is unprecedented, in our time, and that no one really knows what is going on but the more I think of it- and I have listened to a huge range of opinions and read so much that the algorithm people looking at me from their secret Google headquarters must be tearing their hair out)- the more I feel that we are heading down a course of total ruin, mentally, economically and socially. There is still no sign of a vaccine of course and won’t be, certainly not for the poorer countries and it is clear that the more we distance and cleanse and cover up and run away from each other, the slower immunity will grow. In the UK, your chances of dying of coronavirus, as it stands- including all ages and if the figures the WHO bash out are correct) are about 0.065% and we are supposedly the third worst in the world in terms of deaths per million of the population (second really, as it still feels a bit unfair to put San Marino first).

Look, I know we can’t trust world statistics but we may just have to ‘suck this one up’ and take our chances. Sweden is doing rather well at the moment and maybe people will start to think of different ways forward, or else start bringing in the dome that was used in The Simpsons’ Movie’ . That would have shocked massive areas of the west of England that were put into lockdown again today.

It has been a strange summer, in truth but a fun one so far. I hope we will be able to relax in Santorini and to unwind and not think too much of work and money and visas (I still don’t have one) but I somehow feel that this won’t be the case. The worry lingers in the caverns of the back of the brain- and crawls out of your ear to sit in the lobe and watch the world go by- whispering paranoia, ‘You can’t keep being lucky, now can you’? He grins and looks on knowingly. Hopefully, I can squash him in my sleep or drown him in the Aegean.

Grrrr... 19-07-20

So, you are on the phone: could be the council, the tax office, the bank and you get the robot! Well, I exaggerate a little. You get the robotic voice certainly- that voice that makes you gnash your teeth as soon as you hear it. You know what will follow- no matter who you have called- a desperate attempt to stop you speaking to a human being. Yet now, it is worse!

Now- you have the same spiel from each robot woman- it usually is a woman; well a mechanical sort of a woman. You know what I mean. The spiel will almost certainly begin with, 'due to the coronavirus situation' etc etc. Or maybe 'due to the covid 19 pandemic'. Then you will get the usual list of options and probably find that none of said options are appropriate for your query. When you finally receive a glimmer of hope of conversing with another human you are forced to sit through that fatuous and ultimately pointless comment that ends each robotic intercourse- 'due to training purposes your call may be recorded'. I'm literally shouting and mocking a robotic voice and puffing my cheeks out before the unfortunate human being speaks and has to face a very frustrated customer.

I know this isn't really a big issue and I know I should grow up and 'suck it up' and all that, and to be fair- I will and do but sometimes I do shake my head at the modern world we live in. Perhaps it is all part of Boris Johnson's 'New Normal'. Not a great segway I know but I have to get this out!

Oh yes, the 'brainwashing' the masses technique is still very much prevalent in Britain and I smile sarcastically every time I hear someone repeating the mantra. It was the same with Brexit- 'Get Brexit done' and then there was 'Build, build build' and now 'The New Normal'. I understand the power of slogans but this government concocts them, swills them around in their mouth and spits them at us with a spluttering regularity that is hugely alarming. Then, folk in bars (yes they are open, though barely recognisable) start to actually quote the slogans and soundbites. The power is gobsmacking and the auras of Cummings and Johnson (the brothers grim) rubbing their hands in glee and cackling malevolently infect everything. 

Anyway- it's not that I have nothing to talk about. Honestly. 

In truth, I am quite happy at the moment. We have just returned from a lovely mini break (4 days) with Georgia, Kyle and River. A travel blog will follow of course but I would certainly recommend Weymouth and its environs. Lulworth Cove and Durdle door in particular are stunning and Rachel was brilliant in dealing with the tough elevations- my legs were aching when we reached Durdle Door but Rachel is still recovering from a back operation so her achievements cannot be overstated as far as I'm concerned. 

It was fab seeing the kids again and it was comforting to see how much River and Georgia are in love. I suppose the trip was partly in honour of Georgia's recent success: achieving a 1st in Sociology. I am so proud of her and excited about the next chapter in her life.

Now we have a few days of chilling and seeing friends as we wish and planning for the the second Linden Theatre evening. I am hoping to read some poems but also attempting a challenging Shakespeare monologue. It should be fun. Santorini still seems a possibility at the moment but there are still many unanswered questions and Uzbekistan is still very much in the firm grip of a new lockdown. Hopefully, this won't become 'the new normal.'   Grrrrr...........

A Clutch of Unanswered Questions- 08-07-20

So the world continues to sit firmly in the grasp of madness, confusion, fear and despair. Brazil and India now with extremely high figures for deaths and new cases of Covid 19 and my second home, Tashkent is back in lockdown, despite only 41 people having officially died in the country. I cannot think of any other time where the death nof 41 people would send so many into isolation and causes so much disruption. 

I know these figures are almost certainly not accurate but I begin to think that this world we now find ourselves in will not be changing for some considerable time. In Uzbekistan, they rarely rush and I just sense a dragging of feet with every case mentioned. I honestly believe that the country will probably be in and out of lockdown until the whole country is totally cleansed of the virus. This presents a number of longer term selfish issues, as well as many unanswered questions:

Can we get back to Uzbekistan?

When?

Will school re-open?

When?

Will they keep paying us if we aren't in work, officially?

How much?

When?

I am certainly feeling a knot in the gut over this and no doubt many others are too. 

Since my last entry, we have managed to catch up with family pretty well. It was wonderful to see Georgia and walk along the Cam, away from the main hustle and bustle of the city. It was also delightful to see folk swimming in the river and basking in the sunshine. To be honest it has done nothing other than drizzle and cry ever since. I had forgotten the uncertainty of the weather of an English summer and I have to be honest: I do crave the sun of Uzbekistan.

Nonetheless, it was lovely to go back to The Swan in the Rushes albeit with waitress service and special social distancing markers stuck to almost everything. In the town, there is little in the way of gloves, masks and sprays like in Uzbekistan but all the shops have adapted to social distancing laws and it is strange to see people move away from you like you are a leper. It is a bit uncomfortable to be fair.

Where do I stand on all of this? 

I just feel that the longer term problems with mental health, the economy and particularly the attack on the pockets of the poor will be devastating. I honestly don't see a long term answer withouty a vaccine and part of me thinks we should just carry on- take our chances and let it sit to lurk with all of the other dangers to our lives. It is apparently irresponsible to say this but I don't think the answer is to keep going in and out of lockdown- they are even targeting individual cities- Leicester having its own lockdown at the moment! Surely, we must allow people to get it to achieve immunity? How far do we take this? 

Will the youth and the poor continue to suffer to save older people in the affluent west? I am not insensitive- my own parents are elderly but I look at the death statitstics in the UK and I honestly don't see that much of a surge when you take into account the total death toll for everything. I then wonder how many Covid deaths would have happened anyway. In the under 15s category there has been a big drop in weekly deaths in this country. Statistics can be used to prove or disprove anything so I won't try to prove anything but leave those figures for others to consider.

Maybe I just want to see an end to this. Maybe we all do. 

In other news, Rachel is cooking a lovely meal tonight and I get to spend some quality time with my sister and family- probably listening to great vinyls and sinking a fair bit of wine. Tomorrow we head up to see the house and spend some time around our Chezzie mates- before treating Kyle on the 10th in hopefully, 'sunny Sheffield'.

Let's see.

An Unexpected Journey- 25-06-20

It is gloriously sunny outside- a balmy 31 degrees today!

And where am I you may ask? Not sunny Tashkent (where, in truth it is 38 degrees)but Shepshed! Yes, we made it home. 

The journey and the story behind it will read like something from a Hollywood film. Our plan was certainly to wait until the end of the school term and try to find a flight out of Uzbekistan. Yet as we pondered and dithered, waiting to book a flight and as others, did in fact grab their own tickets, I just felt uncomfortable. As if something was in the air and would inevitably go wrong. An evil antagonist waiting in the wings.

Tashkent airport has been closed for a long time now and the golden news that it would open on 1st July was hit by a shock when Uzbek air took down all of their flights. Turkish were still selling and when I rang the unfortunate chap who had to deal with neurotic me, insisted there were confirmed flights from the 2nd July. Yet our contact at Uz air said the government were planning on enforcing another ban for July. It seemed our summer was hanging on a thread.

As we agonised and began to consider the increasingly likely probability that we would be forced to stay in Tashkent for the summer, our friend saw a flight- a repatriation of uzbeks' flight to Istanbul. A chance. A possibility. 

We seized it like hungry wolves.

"You need to get to the ticket office by 7", he said. It was 6.30pm. We managed to arrive at 6.56pm; bought the tickets and jumped up and down in the streets cheering. Wild displays of emotion are not normal in ex soviet countries.

Please don't misunderstand me. We love Tashkent and Uzbekistan but we have to see family- and the thought that we wouldn't, twisted like a needle in the guts. We booked an on going flight to London and hired a car.

The trip to Istanbul was uneventful but the thirteen hour wait for the next flight was tough- sleeping or attempting to, with the screams of a baby who was clearly not content and who had been wailing since Tashkent and for the whole flight. We lay on the floor and had fitful bursts of sleep whilst 'insensitive devils' continued their loud and annoying conversations on their mobiles (why do people shout when they are on the phone)? 

What made it worse was the realisation that I left my laptop on the plane. There followed total madness. Staff claimed they had it safely installed in 'Lost and Found'. However, 'Lost and Found' was closed and wouldn't open until 11.30am the next morning. Our flight to Heathrow was at 10.10am. I was fuming!

The next morning, short of sleep, aching limbs and still hobbling along on a torn calf I damaged playing tennis. I pushed and pushed. After many strange conversations that sent me into spiral of hope followed by heaps of despair, I discovered that the laptop was in 'Lost and Found' on the Turkish side and that I needed a visa. Desperate, I agreed top pay, only to find there were no staff to issue a visa. Argh!!! I was also told that I'd have to face quarantine. A week in Turkey to get my laptop back!

The flight was ever approaching and in the end, I had to 'shoot'. A member of staff told me that I could tell Turkish airlines at Heathrow to send it the next day. 

I tried to get the thought out of my head and was relieved to be sitting on a jet to Heathrow. The flight was pleasant enough, despite the requirement to wear masks for the whole journey. When we arrived, we discovered:

1. Turkish airlines had lost our luggage.

2. Heathrow Turkish airlines said they could not help us regarding the Macbook.

It was extremely frustrating. Yet we were home. 

The UK looked exactly as it did when I left it: No masks, no social distancing and no sanitiser. It was in sharp contrast to Uzbekistan where strict measures were adhered to so carefully. Maybe not the social distancing! 

So, now I am here. Back in Shepshed, with Rachel and her dad in quarantine for 2 weeks. I am slowly adjusting to a slower pace of life. I cannot go out, cannot see people (legally- we could receive a thousand pound fine if we leave the house) and I have limited technology (Pete only has terrestrial TV). When did life change so much? I've just realised how pathetic that all sounds to those who lved before the internet.

Nevertheless, I have kept myself busy, writing poetry, and reading. I am so used to being busy and moving from one task to another that I have to give myself a stern talking to in order to relax. Rachel finds it easier but when I get there, I am happy. I suppose Rachel is now reunited with her little mini Malachai so she's smitten.

Maybe tomorrow, I will find joy in peace and serenity. 

(oh, I have a private investigator looking for my laptop.)

Like I said, a 'Hollywood film'. Maybe the investigator is called James.

Numbness in the storm- 13-06-20

I feel so fat! Then I look closer in the mirror and I am actually more rotund than I first thought. It has been the constant good living but particularly the socializing and its good friend booze that has caused it. Yes, I appreciate that my own choices and capacity for control have dropped into the passive immediately but indulge me this excuse for now. Please. I can't add guilt to the self-loathing.

We have one and half weeks away from the end of term now: exam results have been sorted along with evidence and reports have been almost completed. It has been quite a tough time to be honest but last week we were back in work and teaching from our classrooms, albeit without students. Teachers are nothing if not adaptable.

Last weekend we caught a train to Navoiy and then grabbed a car to Nurato. It was the last shindig for Steve and his bride to be and so it felt quite special. Richard and Oleysia also came along for the ride and what a lot of fun we had –there’ll be a travel blog at some point. Suffice to say, we got to see a fortress built by Alexander the Great (well probably not him personally) and we camped by a lake- which was beautiful to swim in. We also saw bronze age petroglyphs on the way home. It was great fun to get off the compound and enjoy some much-needed different scenery.

Over the last couple of weeks our local friendly bar, run by our favourite barman Sharaf opened- though they had to hide us when we had more than 6 and we also enjoyed an Italian meal out in a restaurant. It is great that finally things seem to be returning to normal. This Monday is another key date as we are expecting more information regarding our compound pool, which we cannot enter without fear of reprisals. Flights are still grounded and there is huge uncertainty as to whether we will actually get home at all this summer. In fact, visas and travel have been frequent subjects of discussion in recent weeks. The frustrating part is not knowing- operating like a blind and deaf person with no guide or support. Last week we discovered that Uzbekistan are offering no visas outside of the country and my visa runs out on July 8th. It takes three weeks if we do it now but it is so frustrating that we have only just discovered this; leaving us with a tough decision whether to risk it and go, hoping that things will change (if we can and if flights start up) or to wait and go later. To add to this, our summer holiday has been cut short by a week and there are varied and frightening rumours about the ‘horror show’ that might await us when we return- up to thirty days in a camp without your phone or devices being one of the stories we have heard.

The world seems to be changing and the UK improving steadily whilst India and Brazil and Russia all take their turn to be ravaged by this virus. There is a sense of hollow numbness in some people that I speak to as if this period has not been real or as if it constitutes a living dream-possibly a nightmare. Alongside this catastrophe, the world has suddenly decided to care about racism, chiefly because of the killing of George Floyd. As usual, everyone has an opinion as to whether ‘black lives matter’, ‘all lives matter’, what they both or either mean, whether we should tear down historical racists or refuse to show TV programmes that have any hint of racism in them, or whether this is simply Orwellian and an attempt to re-write history and deny something ever happened. Yet none of this upsets or surprises me- I sit with a rueful smile: People’s ill-educated opinions (mostly) continue to taint the already abominable place that is the Facebook stream, polluting it with copied posts, and influenced by great mathematicians whose algorithms have ensured that each white supremacist, lefty liberal, or right wing business person is reading a post that will generate passion and ultimately keep them online and commenting.

I won’t. I don’t.

All of this passion will melt away in a matter of moments when the mathematicians decide to make us think about something else.

Why am I even looking? Good point. I guess I have a sordid interest but I don’t stay for long. I smile and laugh and read a book or write a blog. All of this vehemence and ‘holier than thou’ preaching alongside the constant arguments and disagreements only serves to help to grow the malevolent cancer that is prejudice and hate. Fortunately, in the real world (if we can call the compound real) we continue to have a good life and we also continue to be lucky, without a doubt but I crave my family now and I know Rachel desperately wants to see Georgia and Kyle and give them the biggest hug.

Tomorrow we speak to the Principal and try to get some answers. Once again, I find myself crossing everything.

Breaking Out! 28-05-20

We did it! We actually did it!

Last Sunday, we managed to get on a train and rail our way to Qarshi, grabbed a cab to Shahrisabz (the birth place of Amir Temur, or at least the nearest city) and spent a night in a hotel before heading to Kitob where we stayed in a yurt for the second night. It was wonderful. The sun was glorious though strength sapping and the history was fascinating but perhaps the greatest feeling was travelling again and seeing new sights with good friends as companions. There will of course be a proper travel blog on this once I finally finish writing about our magical trip to Istanbul- that has taken some doing.

Whilst others here remained on the compound, we took the risk and it paid off but once back, everything is much as it was before and most people are waiting for June 1st when the lockdown laws will be re-evaluated. I am not hopeful of many changes. Whilst we were in Shahrisabz (a place denoted as a safe zone and, by the way, a place which has no recorded cases of covid) the people were pretty much as focused on survival as it was possible to be with masks on and places still shut up- even some museums and historical attractions were closed, despite the government saying they could be open.

In the evening, it was a little different, particularly amongst the younger folk who came out maskless but, on the whole, people were pretty terrified. It seems to me that, in some way, people are happy to have this level of control placed upon them and they certainly appear to feel it is for their own benefit. Perhaps it is. However, no cases whatsoever and total lockdown seems extreme.

Before we left for Shahrisabz, we had a lovely small do for a birthday party for one of the children on the compound, which just tuned into a bit of a ‘piss up’ for the adults whilst the kids did a treasure hunt and raced around on bikes and scooters. It was a joyous occasion and a few of the chaps we haven’t seen for a while came over too.

The next big excitement is the imminent opening of the pool. Last year it was open way before now but I guess Covid has slowed things down. I must admit, we didn’t expect to open at all so we should be grateful. It was agony today to sit by it, totally full but not accessible: you have to wait until the chemicals have done whatever chemicals do! Maybe tomorrow or the day after but my oh my, we need it- as it is constantly in the high thirties now and is predicted to be 39 degrees all week, next week.

I love pools at the best of times so in these circumstances it will be very pleasurable and I know Rachel craves it.

Time to break out the swimming shorts and go for it!

Meh-17-05-20

It’s an odd day today and a day where I’m feeling rather indecisive and being a bit pathetic. Modern vernacular might describe my mood as a bit ‘meh’ and I have to admit that much as I rue the populist debasing of our language, this is a term which works- it is the onomatopoeia that does it. The sound ‘meh’ so aptly reflecting mood and yes…I am feeling ‘meh’.

Our flight to Tallinn at the end of June, became the first hurdle to fall this summer and I don’t think it will be the last. Ryan air have cancelled the flight and Tallinn aren’t accepting air traffic anyway so the boys' trip is a ‘No, No’. The UK seems to be making a total mess of dealing with the chaos back there and I fully expect our trip to the West Coast in July to fall by the wayside soon enough. My fingers are crossed for Santorini in August but I’m not positive about that either. I guess that’s because I’m feeling ‘Meh’.

Another week of working in lockdown has passed but the ideas for compound fun seem to have ‘dried up’ a little and though we are now officially in the ‘yellow’ zone- meaning we can leave and shops are open but not bars and restaurants- people are still very much sitting tight and wondering when ‘ordinary’ life will start again. Maybe it never will.

Last night Richard came over for a few drinks and we imbibed some very ‘naughty’ Samarkand brandy, which was a delight. The Uzbeks know their vodka, that is a given but their brandy is also something very special. We chatted together and lay on the tapchan for a few hours, putting the world to rights as we have done many times before- whilst others such as Tommy, Stacey, Rach and Nick, came and went, dropping in for a beer or two and heading on their way. Like two centurions, we pushed on through!

Perhaps the most eventful moment of the week, as far as I’m concerned was my trip to the clinic, after tearing my right calf muscle playing tennis. I attempted to dart forward, to retrieve a drop shot from my opponent, only to feel, what I can only describe as a paintball hitting the back of my leg. Some have described this as feeling like being shot but I think a bullet might feel a little worse! I dropped to the floor and to be honest, nausea set in and dizziness which I later attributed to panic. I guess I saw whatever  summer holiday we might get, being spent with my leg elevated on a bed somewhere. Thankfully, the tear was relatively minor and four days later, I am actually walking around, though gingerly. The annoying thing is that I was winning at the time.

Yesterday, we walked to the local big supermarket, ‘Macro’ to grab some supplies and we hoped to see further progress towards normality yet the only difference appeared to be that the full beeping angry drivers have returned and the air quality seems to have reduced. Oh, we were able to get a taxi back so that was a bonus, especially as struggling down there with my bad leg was quite embarrassing and ‘painfully slow’- pun very much intended by the way. I moved like an extra from ‘The Walking Dead’ and if I’d have done this a few weeks ago, accompanied with some sort of screwed up face, gritted teeth and a croaky growl, people might have thought the actual zombie apocalypse was happening for real.

So, looking ahead: there is a flight to London on Friday which we debated getting on but have decided to stick it out. I think flights will come up more often from now on and I’m relatively hopeful that we will return home. In the meantime, there is planning, exams to set for sixth formers, organising timetabling for the department next year and other work based fun to get on with!

Meh!

Peace Amongst the Thunderstorms 10-05-20

It’s been a quiet week

No massive parties, plans or crazy antics at all. Perhaps the most powerful or huge events have been natural ones. On the last two nights, in particular, we have seen awesome (and I mean that in its true sense, not in its clichéd, over used nauseating American accent way) thuderstorms. Thunderstorms that sound like you’re in the middle of a war zone and lightning strikes that make night time, day, for a split second. As the rain lashed down and we sat in the protective bliss of our roofed balcony, it was truly a sight to behold. You do not get thunderstorms like this in the UK. If that wasn’t enough, mankind joined the party last night by unleashing fireworks into the sky to commemorate Victory Day. They have their Victory Day, a day later than in the UK. Apparently, it was supposed to be the same day but the Americans wouldn’t wait for the Russians or something similar.

As the fireworks subsided, the call to prayer which has been a nightly occurrence and indeed a 4.00am wakeup call, began to ring out across the Tashkent night sky. It was a magical moment, to sit and listen, watch and breathe in the fresh air that is exhaled after a rain storm whilst drinking a very pleasant draft ale.

Like I said, a quiet time.

Most of the week has involved hard work, tapping away on the lap top, Zooming students and hoping to boost their progress and launch their success. Oh, sorry, I guess there is no need for the ‘space rocket’ lexical field. My back has recovered and I have played tennis for the last two days which has been a lot of fun and I am actually beginning to play like I used to (which wasn’t great by the way). We’ve had folk round for drinks over the weekend and there have been several tapchan nights with nibbles and beers or wine, which has been lovely and very much needed.

Lockdown here in Uzbekistan is slowly being lifted and shops other than food shops are now opening. Taxis are allowed again and people can walk around the city although bars, restaurants and places of meeting and fun, I suppose, are not yet open. There are still only ten registered has having died of Coronavirus here in Uzbekistan which seems unlikely yet I have to say, these guys certainly know how to control folk. The UK is laughable in comparison, at least, as far as I can see from here, though I am only getting BBC news of course!

Yesterday, Rach and I took a stroll down to the good supermarket- Macro- where there is a good range of choice foods and even beautiful blue cheese. We filled up and didn’t have to wear protective gloves this time- small changes. On the way back, we noticed an outdoor bar type place with bamboo cane walls and tables, arbitrarily arranged as if half-ready for something. The entrance was blocked buy a table so they weren’t open (not surprisingly) but there was a scrappy piece of paper pinned to the bamboo saying PIVA in Russian, meaning beer. On the table were two 1 and a half litre plastic bottles of beer. We stood a gawped nosily for a while before wandering off only for a chap to call after us. I turned and tried some very poor Russian and he said, Í speak English’ and he absolutely did.

He said the bar was closed but they were doing takeaway draft beers and did we want to try some. It seemed rude not to, so we did.

He gave us a pint each! I had Weiss beer and Rach a lovely red beer- very pleasant indeed and it would stand against a lot of UK beers to be fair. The chap, Sharaf was his name, had worked in the UK before and Japan. He could speak four languages fluently and we were humbled once again. After downing the pint, he offered us another but we chose to buy some instead and head off home for lunch. We’ll definitely go back. The only uncomfortable thing was a chap, down the other end of the bar who was obviously drunk, openly leering at Rachel- at least I think it was- he was a little wobbly and uncoordinated for us to fully tell.

So, another week goes by and the world seems to be getting used to the chaos- I wonder how long it will take for people to establish ordinary routines. I know going back to normal work will be odd for us and no doubt it will be the same for others.

We have no idea when or even if we will be able to get out of Uzbekistan though; in truth, I am also beginning to wonder, whether I even want to.

Crawling Our Way Onward as the World Descends... 02-05-20

Tonight, we go on out first pub crawl in ages. Well, not ages- I mean we’re not going back to the bronze age obviously but you know how the English language lends itself so beautifully to overreaction. As fairly frequent pub goers and partakers of the alcoholic beverage in good or even average company to be honest, it certainly feels like an age since we had a proper night out.

So- the epic plan (there I go again) is to go to 4 houses (1 house has 2 pubs) and each will be re-decorated to resemble a pub in whatever style people choose. Ours is the last pub of the night so I suppose, we should be called ‘At World’s End’. Yet, we delved deep into our family nostalgia for the name of our pub and it had to be Kyle’s idea from when he was a little boy and dreamt of owning a bar. He said he would have called it ‘The Wiggly Worm’. Tonight, ‘The Wiggly Worm’ will be open for customers.

We have gone for a fairly ‘spit and sawdust’ type place with crisps and nuts, lager and a skittle alley but others are doing Australian style beach bars, cocktail bars and gourmet restaurant style pubs. There are activities ranging from beer pong, to karaoke- the pub quiz and even shots of vodka with ginger and lemon.

Since this lockdown began, it has only served to ignite our imagination; social gatherings have been fantastic as we continue to live and work in each other’s company.

The world is still very strange with some countries seeming to almost conquer the virus and others struggling to contain the rapid descent into total chaos. I am bemused at times with comments made on the news as it seems everyone needs to find someone to blame or ask: ‘if you had just… or ‘why didn’t you…’I know we live in a world of accountability, at least in terms of the veneer of public life, but I don’t see any value in this constant bickering and blaming. It doesn’t matter now what has happened but what will happen but somehow having a person or group to criticise makes some people feel better. I understand how countries less infected can look at others and how they have dealt with the issues- that’s just sensible but the constant finger pointing seems to have no real value other than for some ‘cocky’ so and so to be able to say, ‘I told you so’ or some other nauseating ‘titbit’. In truth, of course it is about politics and money: even with the lives of many in danger, it is still about jostling for power and showing that your political party, organisation, business or whatever, is better than others.

Here in Uzbekistan things have calmed a little: taxis are now operating again, although only at prescribed times and only for pharmacy, shop or doctor visits. Shops are no longer sanitising hands as you enter them and we have seen the local bar mopping up and preparing for what looks like an imminent opening. Fingers crossed. What is strange however, is that Uzbekistan Airways have already cancelled flights until the end of June so our trip back to the UK looks in serious doubt. This is frustrating.

I cannot feel too depressed however as we have a great life compared to so many around the world at this time: the sun is shining; we have many friends, plenty of money and now a contract for next year so that we have guaranteed work for another sixteen months. There are folk out there, particularly in the less developed countries who have no social security and consider Covid 19 to be the least of their concerns- it is the poverty they are facing or will soon face that is most anxiety inducing. In a recent article, I read that this pandemic will plunge half a billion people into poverty. I have no proof of the validity of these figures but even if they are half right…

I honestly believe that when all of this is over, the gap between the rich and the poor will only have grown.

A Morning in Therapy- 25-04-20

My mind is a fog at the moment and it isn’t because of the amount of beer I drank last night. To be frank, we have had a couple of quiet nights of late, on the tapchan, chatting with a couple of friends and musing on life, the universe and everything.

Today is Steve’s last day on the compound and we’ll miss him. He’s been good fun to have around and a calm head in such crazy times. I say ‘crazy’ but life has continued to follow a fairly consistent routine here and I haven’t entered a state of boredom at all. I used to say to students in class who complained of work being boring that ‘only boring people get bored’. This is an asinine statement in many ways or at least crass but it was an easy go to ‘retort’ in my early years of teaching. Nonetheless, there is some substance to the comment and I am not immune to apathy of course, yet it is true that when you get free time or more free time, there are opportunities to learn, to create and to develop the self like no other time. We are hugely lucky, infinitely so if you consider the internet, to have access to the largest research station in the world at our finger tips. We are able to learn new skills, do courses, read, listen to music, learn to play an instrument or make one; write plays, novels, blogs or even look up recipes, device games, build dens (a bit weird if you only have adults in the house but could still be fun).

Boredom certainly comes quicker to the unimaginative.

Despite all this, I have to admit that I have actually been as busy as always! This week I judged a story writing competition- 20 stories takes a bit of reading, I can tell you. I have finally finished reading Othello with my sixth formers and begun to get to grips with the staffing for next year as well as rank order all of my year 11 students. We finish work a little earlier of course but I still work on Sundays as I always have and I still have a list of jobs that never seem to end. Set five tasks…do two…end with nine- that sort of thing.

I’m not complaining at all. It is good to be busy but in my free time I am either socializing or setting my mind to the ‘accomplishments of short term goals’- ok I heard that on a Tim Minchin speech. We’re all influenced by others, aren’t we?

So, why is my mind in a fog?

Well, I woke up this morning thinking I was a conspiracy theorist, and berating myself for it (I mean most conspiracy theorists are morons, right?) before re-thinking it and then being proud to be one, if indeed I am. I appreciate that sounds about as clear as muddy water so I’ll try to explain:

There are so many articles about the Coronavirus pandemic, as you would expect, and so many views on the diverse ways countries’ have responded to the virus. Often, you read such articles, searching for affirmation of a previously held belief or opinion and I am no different. Yet, with this chaos I have tried other avenues I wouldn’t usually walk down. After all, we can’t walk anywhere at the minute anyway! Not legally.

I began to think about the term ‘conspiracy theorist’; a term that usually tells us the person believes nothing or sees an ulterior reason or motive for something- ‘911 didn’t happen’ or ‘the moon landings were a fake’. Now, I don’t concur with these views at all but I read some of the information and data available about coronavirus and I marry this with my study of History over the years and my A level Sociology and began to realise that actually- a conspiracy theorist can be someone who questions, who doesn’t buy media portrayals immediately, who doesn’t follow the crowd like a mindless sheep and who isn’t fickle enough to behave one way and then, once magnetically pulled into the fold, created through hysteria and propaganda, suddenly loses their mind and becomes a thoroughly unpleasant, and sometimes downright nasty individual.

You may notice I said ‘can be’. I know some ‘conspiracy theorists’ (I hate labels but that’s another discussion) are like sheep too- following nonsensical suggestions and being vociferous about unsubstantiated beliefs also. It’s just that when you are in the majority, your aggression seems to be acceptable.

I want to make it clear at this point that I do not think coronavirus is made up or invented or sent by the Chinese to kill western economies. However, I do think that there are, as always many, many views purported and that our access to forums is like never before due to social media and it is, in my view, incredible how quickly people formulate their opinions and even more incredible that they thrust them upon so many with often, no education, information and with a level of angst or vociferous aggression that is startlingly more extreme than some people’s conspiracy theories. Though I have to say, rarely to people’s faces. There is nothing like hiding in isolation and espousing views that other people have nurtured in the cooking pot of your mind!

No matter how unsupported claims may be, once enough people say it, it is no longer a conspiracy theory or a ludicrous point. It is reality! If your view goes against the grain it immediately seems wild and as mad as a bucket of frogs (sorry Rach, borrowed that one) Whether you are saying the world is a sphere when popular belief says it is flat (I know some people still do- I would defend their right to say that) or that we are all reptiles (thanks David Icke) it is only rubbished as these views are in the minority, not simply because of how extreme the views appear. I don’t think we’re reptiles by the way.

George Orwell said, ‘just because you are in a minority of one, doesn’t necessarily mean you are wrong’. I would agree. So would Sweden.

So-am I a conspiracy theorist- no! I guess the key is ‘conspiracy’. I don’t think everything that happens is planned or designed by a corporate enterprise or government or whatever, for personal gain. I conspire to criticize what I read, to consider the purpose, audience and tone of all material that I read, listen to and watch (we teach kids at school to do this for heaven’s sake!) As aforementioned, I am not immune. I can be influenced and coerced but I think I am aware of the dangers presented by these two villains. I will be dragged kicking and screaming into their lair- as I strain every part of my limited brain to the cause of thinking and not rushing my verdict.

I certainly won’t make wildly over confident statements on social media as if somehow I am the guru of all knowledge. Some might say, I am doing that now; in this blog but eh, I’ve got you there folks- I haven’t expressed my views on coronavirus or any other individual: this is just a verdict on myself- a stream of consciousness that has pulled me out of the miasma.

Thanks for being the therapist!

Edging Happily Closer to the Unknown-16-04-20

You can go for months in Tashkent without hearing a police siren and there were times last year where I began to believe there were no ambulances at all. You hardly ever see one. Yet now, and given the current world crisis, somewhat menacingly we hear sirens a lot. They often come at night, when we are settling down for bed- almost as if they know we’re about to relax.

That said, I do not anger at the sounds due to their bizarre and comical nature. I am fully aware that even in the UK, sirens have changed over the year and they are very often not simply, ‘De da, de da’. However, Uzbekistan sirens are like comedy sirens, often starting with high pitched squeals and then moving rapidly between a couple of notes, very close together on the musical scale but then we get the sound of joke horns, with high decibel arpeggios with a hint of science fiction thrown in. At other times, it is more of a blurt and then a discordant forte chord like a small elephant has fallen on an 80s synthesizer. The police sirens here are a little like listening to a prog rock band, trying too hard to impress.

Lockdown has continued here and in most of the world, though Denmark lifted theirs today and Italy have opened up their book shops- glad to see they have sorted out their priorities- no doubt Opera lessons will be running as normal too along with pizza places and ice cream parlours!

Here in Uzbekistan, we have over way over 1000 cases of Covid 19 and the situation is certainly worsening. Some expats are still trying to get out and a new flight as come up that goes to Korea, in the wrong direction! From there you can grab a flight to London apparently but the whole journey will cost over a thousand pounds and a couple of nights in the airport. For Rach and I this makes no sense. We continue to sit it out, working steadily at our online teaching (well I do- Rach has a little less to do) and usually partaking in sport at the end of the day. We played footy today for a change from the tennis and I scored a hat trick. We won 6v5 but it was a steady paced game indeed. It was lovely as it was a mixture of senior men (Mark is 62), fatties like Nick and I, some decent players like PE teacher and poor man’s Joe Wicks, Steve and the omnipresent Dutchman Tommy, as well as younger kids with more energy than Tigger after a Skittles binge.

This Saturday, we are doing a Murder Mystery night, where we all take on characters- it’ll be nice to bring out my thespian again. Oo er!! I have to say that Nick, in particular, is great for coming up with creative ideas for people on the compound and his chirpy persona is a balm to all those developing minor ‘cabin fever’.

Friends of us in the town, perhaps six or seven miles away are less amused and certainly more isolated and so we continue to feel lucky as ever. Internet is perhaps one of the biggest problems at the moment and I have spent over fifty pounds on data this month, hot spotting my phone to my laptop so I can teach. Our WIFI is like an errant teenager: compliant in short bursts but liable to shut down, refuse or ignore you at any moment. It is irritating, especially when you want to watch a dramatic episode of ‘Vikings’- by the way, what a series that is!

So, tomorrow is Friday but, in truth, it’s just another day, to be honest. We will wake, do some online teaching, potter about, enjoy a couple of beers and maybe get a game of tennis.

Tighteneing of the Metaphorical Noose 10-04-20

We watched a two part Drama last night called ‘The Flood’ with Robert Carlyle and Tom Courtenay. It was mildly entertaining with some good moments, though the music was annoyingly repetitive and some of the dialogue extremely clunky. Somehow, we can’t get enough of disaster scenarios at the moment- strangely drawn to them, like never before.

Online users continue to surprise and shock in equal measure between the creative types who sing, act, dance and do P.E. for others benefit and even sharing with each other and religious groups who meet online and choirs who sing together over Zoom- a site no-one talked about until a few weeks ago. However, there are the others, the holier than thou Facebookers who feel the need to pass judgement constantly on others, without knowing their situation or indeed anything about the pandemic. I am always amazed how vehement and vociferous people get over things they know nothing about and how fickle people are- changing their views as easily as they might change their clothes in the morning. What surprises me the most is how ‘sheep-like’ we are; joining in on group chats, berating some and glorifying in others, it seems, with little or no thought: cyber bullying in fact. I believe the world is far more complicated than that and refuse to get involved in these groups.

There are over 600 cases of Covid 19 reported and recorded here in Uzbekistan now and three deaths, yet we continue to be relatively untouched by the whole event, on our little compound. Here, we do not do much social distancing and in truth there would be very little point. We have spent a lot of time with each other already and if one of us gets it, we’ll all get it anyway. In all honesty, I still don’t worry about the virus at all- in terms of actually getting it (though this is probably foolhardy). I am still aware that I was taking more risk getting in a car everyday on my way to work with people sat behind me in the back seat without a seatbelt. I can see the level of the risk and I understand it- I think.

However, I have seen the mild panic begin to grow, even here on the compound and particularly amongst those who have children and who fear the Uzbek health system, which they do not understand. I get that! I have children too and I remember worrying about them over almost everything. For Rach and I, it is still more the fear that we won’t get back to the UK and to see our own families this summer. I am still hopeful but the chances of us not returning are increasing with every day that passes. There has been a flight from Tajikistan to Frankfurt put on but this is too early for us, as we are still working, and I’m not sure how landing in Frankfurt will help us very much.

Here in the city there have been tighter restrictions, with the streets and fences being sprayed and police blocking the roads and stopping vehicles to check if they are licensed to be on the roads. We are stopped and asked where we are going when we leave the compound now as you can only leave to get food. Many of our friends are still stuck in their one bedroomed flats without company and wondering what is happening as the loudspeakers outside their flats from the windows of police cars blare out instructions in Uzbek or Russian. It is becoming increasingly frightening.

In the UK, Kyle remains at my parents, though I have noticed more emotive messages from my father of late and I think they are all missing us as much as we are missing them. Georgia remains with her boyfriend River in their one roomed flat and I can only imagine how claustrophobic that must get after a while; it is very testing for their relationship and their mental health. I am very proud of the steely determination they are showing. The death toll in the UK is now one of the highest in the world and yesterday there were more deaths in the UK than anywhere else except for the United States. The sense of over-reaction I had a week ago is hard to hang on to when you see the pictures of the mass grave pits in New York that have darkened the screens of the news programmes. I am still unsure as to whether the policy of lockdown is the way forward or whether it will work, as everyone else is, but this is certainly a big problem. Sweden continue to focus on; ‘Herd Immunity’ and though their cases grow quickly, it doesn’t seem hugely worse than similar countries. Who knows how this might end.

Last Tuesday, it was Rachel’s birthday and because we are still socializing with each other, we were able to have a lovely get together and sing some karaoke. The kids loved it and we continued long after they went off to bed, drinking plenty of booze and laughing a lot. We all needed that and it was a great tonic for the doom and gloom we see on the news every day. Tonight, we are also hoping to enjoy a good quiz which one of our colleagues and friends has created. This will be a virtual experience as he doesn’t live here on the compound but we have all become surprisingly adept with our virtual skills and ICT. Some good always come out of a tragedy.

I just hope these words are not simply the start of a sort of ‘poor man’s’ Samuel Pepys diary and that one day words like mine and those other people , no doubt, writing far better blogs than me, all over the world, are not studied by historians as examples of how we responded before the culling of the human race.

Until that time however, there is always beer!

The Lucky Ones- 02-04-20

The sun is back and I am tapping away on the laptop listening to 'Weltschmerz' by Fish. He really is a very good song writer. Interestingly, the meaning of the word (melancholy, world weariness) seems very appropriate at the moment as we watch the countries on the planet go into lockdown and tighten their fists, hoping and praying that this all goes away. The longer this Covid 19 rampage continues, the more I begin to wonder whether it mightn't be better to just ignore it and stop reporting it. That way, 'herd immunity' might take place and it will simply become another illness.

This will of course seem casual, indifferent and a little naive and perhaps it is , as I don't really know any more than the next person, but I do worry, as I watch what is happening to communities of people who cannot work anymore and who's children will starve, particularly in countries where there is no social security or certainly, none to speak of. 

How long can the world remain in lockdown; how long before there is another case after lockdown ends? I certainly would not want to be a member of any government right now, making these seemingly impossible decisions.

So, how is it affecting us?

Not as much as you'd expect.  Mark is now a part of the family and we are living together happily. Each of us is taking it in turn to cook dinner and we have plenty of alcohol and food in stock. The socialising has reduced a little now but there is still plenty to do and we thoroughly enjoyed the film night last week. It was the first time I had seen, 'The Big Lebowski'.

For us, life is good at the moment but I think what worries people is the uncertainty of the future- whether we will be able to get home for the summer or whether we will have jobs in the future. It is also sometimes difficult to be away from family when you know they might need you. Yet I am acutely aware that these problems are tiny in comparison to others and that we are still being paid; we still have company; we have hope; we have comfort and security.

We are the lucky ones.

Armageddon- 22-03-20

Imagine a plague of locusts; fire and brimstone; nuclear apocalypse- swarms of zombies pawing at your garden walls (if you have them). The world has gone crazy- a total shut down it seems of almost everywhere. Yes, as usual, I have gone for purple prose but this is unprecedented.

In my last blog, I made the bold assertion that Uzbekistan just carries on as normal. Not anymore. Since then, schools have closed, large social gatherings such as theatres, football matches and even some parks have been shut or postponed. Yesterday, restaurants, cafes and bars were closed and even some cars from outside of Tashkent are being stopped from entering. Most people are self-isolating, leading to the hilarious and not so hilarious posts on various social media sites, as people try to find a way of entertaining themselves and others.

The economies of the world are collapsing around us, though as it stands, we are still ‘sitting pretty’ as we are paid in dollars and the dollar has held firm whilst the sterling is falling rapidly. Exams have been cancelled in the UK where, as I write, there have been 5033 deaths. Here, we await the exam board decision regarding international exams and teachers, such as I, are trying to provide virtual learning. For many, such as my daughter and her boyfriend, life is a nightmare, as they now have no work and as of yet, they are still expected to pay their rent. Well- I will have to, if it comes to it. This is challenging as we have just spent a grand and a half on our house- whilst still waiting to get a tenant. I wonder if coronavirus will slow that down too.

Nevertheless, here on the compound we are lucky. I never expected to live on Ramsey Street but here we are; a wonderful friendly community where we walk in and out of each other’s houses as we need to and support each other, socially. We ae not yet self-isolating to the point where we do not leave the house and if we get to this point I believe I will go stark raving mad. So far I have kept myself active and engaged- Karaoke earlier in the week at our house and dinner on the tapchan; curry and quiz at Steve’s last night; tennis against Cameron and Steve (beat them both- not bad for an old fatty like me).

Today, we are hoping to head out and get some food- I cannot imagine them closing the bazaars but we will see. So, as it stands, the cynic in me still cannot help but think that this is a dangerous virus but that our reaction of hysteria might collapse the economy and kill more- the flu still killing four or five times more people in the same period. However, as each day goes by my cynicism rescinds slightly- there were nearly a thousand deaths in Italy alone yesterday and the figures seem to grow around us, like poisonous mushrooms. The virus is actually not a big killer in terms of statistics but will it mutate? Will we recover? Can we stop it? Or is this really, the beginning of some Armageddon?

Dreaming in the fog of the Pandemic- 14-03-20

So in a world that cannot seem to stop talking about COVID19, Uzbekistan continues to claim not a single case. Kazahkstan have cancelled schools and the borders to the other stans are also blocked and yet Tashkent rolls on as normal. People still smile, drink vodka, frequent the bazaars and shakes hands!

Is it strange that the staff, are keen for school closures? No, they're tired and a chance for a longer break is quite appealing, even if the reason is a little dystopian. The world is beginning to resemble those films we watch where there has been a nuclear disaster, or a zombie apocalypse. Restaurants closing its door, cancelled sporting occasions and empty concert halls and yet, in Tashkent, no change whatsoever.

Last week was a good week at school despite the backdrop of the virus. The school show rehearsals went well and there were limited issues to solve all week. On Wednesday night, we gathered for the quiz at the indian restaurant, the Host. There were eight teams, which is more than usual, and yet more evidence that Corona is having little impact on culture here. It was fun and we came fourth, which was respectable. 

Our house in the UK is finally ready to receive viewings and we are tapping our feet waiting for the moment when we can receive another income stream. I have to confess to feeling a little strange when I see the photographs of the 'improvements': bare walls freshly plastered, covered in  magnolia paint. There are less hazards such as broken tiles or carpet that you could trip up on but there is no soul. I guess 'we' put the soul in and the house is now a vacant place, waiting for someone else to put their personality into it. 

The highlight of the week for me was booking our trip to the Aral sea and the cemetery of ships. This is something that Rachel has wanted to do for a long time. It is going to be a lot of fun as long as Uzbekistan airways don't receive instructions to cancel all internal travel. I am speaking 'tongue in cheek' of course 'but from my experience, it is not that unusual here to go from no response to an extreme one, in a heartbeat.

With my parents' trip cancelled, it would be a huge disappointment if we couldn't go. I am crossing everything I have that I will get the chance to write a blog about the Aral sea. We're still dreaming in the fog of the pandemic.

Spirituality 07-03-20

It’s the weekend again and guess what? Yep, it’s looking like it’ll be a sunny one. To be honest, it has been nippy all week after the surprisingly hot one last Saturday.

So, no entries from me for a while and despite my usual good intentions and hopes to sit down and write, I simply haven’t been able to find the time. Since getting back from Istanbul a couple of weeks ago, we have been hard at the graft, whilst all of us scurry along wondering when the malevolent hand of Covid19 will strike us down and squash us like an insect.

Now then- am I being facetious? A little. I have to confess to have been one of those fellows who was certainly a banger of the ‘bloody hell, what is it with all this hysteria?’ and ‘Flu kills more than Covid 19’ or even, ‘more people die in Uzbekistan from not wearing a seat belt,’ drum This is in no small part down to my natural tendency to be cynical and to not trust the media. However, the situation has certainly worsened and maybe the seemingly over the top response (no reports of the virus at all in Uzbekistan- if you believe the figures. Hmm) is what the world needs to ensure that this potential threat disappears quicker.

It is callous and insensitive of me to say this but it’s true- it isn’t the virus that scares me personally but its impact on my travel plans!

Already, we have had to cancel the visit of my parents in just over a week and this is very saddening- as when the kite-line is stretched across continents, the potential to be reeled in once in a while is very appealing. However, we have to be strong and ‘get on’- after all, we’re still here and some are not. My friend and colleague died recently and I won’t be able to attend the funeral which feels wrong and is another example of the downside of living our here in Central Asia. When I found out, it was strange- I had a hollow feeling and clichéd as it sounds, ‘it didn’t feel real’. It actually still doesn’t. I was messaging him only a matter of weeks ago.

My perspective is still good at the moment and it is easier to face disappointment and sad news, now Rachel is here, and the transience of life and our mortality very much keeps me mindful of the now. I’m not a Buddhist obviously but I do feel more spiritual than I ever have, I think.

A Dose of Mountain Air and a Week of Exhaustion- 15th February 2020

Last weekend we visited the mountains just below Chimgan and stayed in a wonderful Dacha in khodjikent. We hired two cars to transport three couples, and Richard and Oleysia were to join us later in the evening. The journey was relatively pleasant and with the use of live internet tracking, we managed to stay together.

The dacha itself was very spacious with a billiard room, a sauna, an indoor pool- and a spacious lounge for socializing. However, the property was, as is often the case here in Uzbekistan, oddly unfinished. There was fabulous attention to detail in some areas such as wonderful green, stylish façade placed across some ugly brick work and yet next to it on either side, the same ugly brick work, completely untreated. The billiard room with excellent lighting, a table cover and spacious surroundings and yet the wooden window fittings just awaiting windows, covered by clear tarpaulin that flapped annoyingly in the light mountain breeze. It seems like great ideas are had and wonderful creativity takes place but at the moment of completion, it appears that people lose heart- maybe it’s money.

The house was situated on some seriously bouncy mountain track just outside the main town and by the time we arrived at the house it felt like we had been on a fair ride which throws you up and down and threatens to fracture your pelvis. It was comical, in truth, and everyone was in great spirits on arrival.

On day 1 we drove the bendy roads up to Charvak and took some lovely photographs, before stopping for some refreshments. In the evening I was Steve’s sous chef and he made two lovely curries before we headed off to the billiard room- which was pretty cold at that hour. Most of the ladies enjoyed the sauna and the pool and we joined them later. It was fantastic fun and very relaxing. Rachel had a great time and as usual, it was hard to keep her out of the pool. I really enjoyed Richard’s lovely welsh whisky in the sauna- a very pleasurable experience indeed- the sauna heat warming the glass for you quite naturally.

On day 2 we drove up higher into the mountains, with the express purpose of going on the chair lift to the top of one of the mountains. Unfortunately, the great weather of the previous day had gone and it was wet and windy. By the time we arrived at the chair lift, we discovered it had been closed down due to safety reasons. It was very atmospheric up there in the snowy mountains but a little chilly so we drove to Amirsoy and stopped in a dome restaurant that looked like ‘The Eden Project’ had given birth to a little baby. The food in the restaurant was excellent but we left into a storm and held ourselves tightly all the way back to the cars.

The journey home was hilarious as one of the window wipers wasn’t working and I was delighted that I wasn’t the one driving. Great credit should go to Callum for returning us all safely. Thanks mate!

This morning there is a tingling of excitement bubbling inside me for tomorrow, Rach and I head off to Istanbul. I have been reading a lot about this seemingly phenomenal city that straddles Asia and Europe and the more I read, the more excited I become.

To be absolutely honest we both really need this trip. I have to confess that the last few weeks have been really hard work and we’re exhausted.

Last week, I had Parents’ Evening, a school show rehearsal and on Wednesday, we put on an excellent night of theatre, performing such treats as ‘Bouncers’, ‘Blood Brothers’, ‘Mindgames’ and ‘The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night time’. The students were superbly professional, and there were some wonderful moments with sublime acting. The day was highly stressful with the lights ‘breaking down’ and needing fixing, causing an awful lot of concern. Yet, in the theatre, ‘the show must go on’ and somehow, it all worked out beautifully. The kids never let you down when it comes to the crunch. 

Released from the Icy Grasp 01-02-20

Last night, Rach and I visited the Alisher Navoi theatre to watch the ballet, Don Quixote. I had been a couple of times last year but it was a first for Rachel. The theatre itself is in an area affectionately known as Broadway, by the locals and it is a striking building, made even more so by the coloured uplighters of reds, greens, blues and pinks that are thrown up the walls of the building. The theatre was built by Japanese prisoners of war between 1942 and 1947 and there is a plaque on the side of the theatre praising their efforts.

This ballet to me, was like the others I have seen- full of very intricate dance moves- after all this is officially a Bolshoi theatre- and some very pleasant music but ultimately, difficult to follow, in terms of plot and, in truth, I found it repetitive. I appreciate that to many I will sound like a heathen or a philistine but there are only so many times you can watch a dancer or even a prance leap onto the stage and spin round and round before leaping again. Some of the group sequences were well choreographed and the costumes and sets quite extravagant and creative but after the second act (there were 4 scheduled) we decided to leave and meet up with the others for a few drinks.

By the way, Don Quixote is a very odd storyline- at least the ballet version, which seems to focus upon two bizarrely contrived love stories running alongside each other, with Don Quixote exploring a few places and fighting a windmill. I probably missed some stuff out- don’t judge me! Maybe the book is better.

It’s been a tough couple of weeks- with exam marking taking over a lot of my free time but we managed a trip to the quiz, though Rach and I were next to useless- thankfully the rest of the team were good and we ended up finishing second. Last weekend, I was incredibly lazy and did nothing, my body was shattered after a tough swimming session with Cameron and I was mentally and emotionally shattered, after probably my toughest week at work since I came to Tashkent. I literally spent the Saturday lolling about like a sleeping lion.

I felt a lot better after that.

Sadly, my trip to Vietnam was cancelled, as the keynote speaker doesn’t want to risk catching Coronavirus and so I have two more weeks of ordinary work to do. However, with Istanbul on the horizon, and with the weather a balmy 14 degrees today- there is an awful lot to feel positive about. January is always the toughest month of the year and today we are released from its icy grasp.

It always smiles on Saturdays 18/01/20

The weekends seem to smile on us at the moment as the sun always seems its best on Saturday. Mind you, we don’t see the beautiful yellow orb in the mornings during the week, as at 6.30am it's just as dark as the middle of the night. Sometimes I wake and daren’t look at my phone for the time. I dread finding that it's almost ‘getting up o'clock.'

We’ve had a busy ‘old time’ over the last couple of weeks. Rach has settled in so well and we have many friends which is great. I have enjoyed showing her the old town of Tashkent and the fabulous architecture. Rach was impressed, I think, though it was cold. We headed through a park nearby, which had a glorious statue in front of its gates. This place was odd to say the least- clearly a place that is more of a summer location with closed cafes, bars and children’s play equipment looking lonely and lost. The space has real potential with streams and larger waterways, a giant dinosaur that kids will love and a beautiful outdoor Milly Taomlar (local food) which will be amazing in summer. Yet, as we explored further we found an odd blend of unfinished, amazing ideas, like a ship and a cave that was never completed- alongside grubby, litter ridden spaces and rusty equipment, sculptures and broken steps. It felt, in some ways, like new ideas and projects were being constructed, alongside relics of yesteryear. We mused as to whether it would have been better to start again but this strange mix of beauty, ingenuity and lack of maintenance, characterizes parts of the city. The litter was particularly upsetting- there were bins and some of them were full but clearly emptying them doesn’t happen too often. Yet this is strangely incongruent with other aspects of cleanliness. At school, it is hard to move for more than ten minutes before some lovely lady with a brush or mop is around your feet ensuring that no dirt has reared its disease ridden head since the last ‘tickle round’ with the broom. On the streets, there are hundreds and I mean hundreds of people, constantly mopping up leaves.

It would be better if some of these leaf sweepers stopped sweeping and picked up litter.

Today, we head off to the Alisher Navoiyy theatre to check out whether there’s a ballet that’s worth watching next week. We are certainly finding plenty to do and hopefully we will get to check out Minor Mosque later today. Recent evenings have brought with them a bizarre mix of marking for exams and nights out with friends, eating pizza or watching ice hockey. As an English teacher (and I appreciate that I am setting myself up for a ‘woe is me’ situation) I have more marking than others and it can get a little depressing. That said, I have been ‘storming’ through it.

I am happy at the moment. January is almost done- February hols (in Istanbul) are 4 weeks away and the sun is smiling- it always does on Saturday. 

Flying High 03-01-20

After travelling on twenty three planes in 2019 (I know, my carbon footprint is not one to be proud of) it is perhaps surprising that this is the first time that I have used my laptop on a plane in my life.

The journey back is six and a half hours and it is a journey I am becoming used to, yet sadly, there is no entertainment on board, except a shared TV screen with blurry white lines and constant transmission issues; like the ones we used to see on our screens in the 1980s- oh, and an Uzbekistan airways mag which is as exciting as its imaginative title suggests.

And so, it is blog time: the first for 2020:

The highlight of last week was our annual theme night which, this time was ‘Red Dwarf’ and this was great fun. It was slightly disappointing that Georgia couldn’t join us but it was still a bonkers night. Mum had made a fantastic board game which involved us having to sing various songs from the series ad nauseam (though I enjoyed it I have to say). I managed to orchestrate in the kitchen, as we served up Gazpacho soup and toast; Lister’s edible pot noodle; vegan vindaloo, poppadoms (though not the size of Lake Michigan) nan bread and of course Shami Kebab Diablo. For dessert, we made Rimmer’s Death Day cake in the shape of a spanner.

The costumes were great this year but Leah, (my niece) stole the show, with her wonderful curry monster outfit, though I have to admit that I loved dad’s high priest. He rocked the long hair- like he was returning to his hippy days. We finished the night with several outstanding episodes of ‘Red Dwarf’ which seemed as fresh as ever to me. What an incredible series it was and still is!

And so this is a new year and what have I done:

Well, an awful lot, which is great. I think back to my trips to Astana (the 2nd coldest capital city on Earth)- anyone know the first? My trip along the silk road with my parents, visiting the war memorial in Chimkent after crossing the border into Kazakstan, the visit to Babur’s birthplace, Andijan and later Margilon as well as summer vacations to Rome, Berlin, and Budapest, along with the Autumn trip to Tblisi and of course, the fantastic school trip to Warsaw. I find it hard to imagine what I would have done if I hadn’t have made the move to Tashkent.

Yet it is not just the travel, but the people I have met, the perspectives I have been given and the realization of how big the world is that has made such a difference to me and my mental health. As I head back, flying 37000 feet in the air, I am exciting about what the new year will bring.

If I am honest, the next month will be a tough one as it is mock exam fortnight and I’ll have an awful lot of marking; the weather will be cold- rather like England and the mornings will be dark and miserable but once we battle through the month there is a lot to look forward to, including a trip to Istanbul and an imminent school trip (work, honestly) to Saigon or Ho Chi Minh City. I hope to take Rachel to Samarkand soon as well as visit the theatre and start my singing up again- I have missed the choir. This isn’t a new year’s resolution as I don’t make them but more of an expectation of myself.

I have the old town of Tashkent to show Rach as well as Minor Mosque, the Russian orthodox cathedral, Alisher Navoiyy theatre and, of course, Human House. There are many gardens to visit as the weather heats up and so, lots of fun times lie ahead. It is no surprise then, that I am flying high.

Inexplicable Blues- 27-12-20

The dark comes in outside but it is only 3.50pm. To be honest, it has been pretty miserable all day and since being back in the UK it has been gloomy, cloudy or wet. I am reminded once more of the difference in the weather between England and Uzbekistan and whilst it is a similar temperature at the moment, it is the gloomy wetness that defines the UK. This, coupled with a sense of despair regarding the political decisions made by the country in recent weeks (well- amongst my friends anyway) has brought a veil of melancholy over the land.

I may sound bleak but I have a long afternoon sitting looking out at the weather, whilst Rach is watching something on the laptop upstairs and heaven knows what Pete is doing. He seems to disappear regularly to do some job or other. I have no idea what, as everything here is immaculate. 

It's been a mixed bag this Christmas and although it has been fun catching up with folk, I am quite looking forward to returning 'home'.

Christmas day itself was fun and it was amazing to see the kids again. As usual, Georgia was genius-like with her gifts and Kyle, surprised us all with the thought he had put into his. Emma, (my sister) had decided upon a sustainable Christmas this year and it was good to see her refusing to waste anything. The message about the rapid demise of our planets resources is clearly getting through. Kyle didn't even wrap his gifts which was fantastic, handing them to folk, as he did, with a beaming smile. Tomorrow we have our annual theme night and this time it is Red Dwarf night. I am going dressed as Lister so there'll be a little hilarity. I definitely have the belly for it these days.

The house is almost ready to rent out and I am greatly indebted to everyone who helped when we returned to the old place on the 21st. We brutally threw stuff out, ripping memories from the place like a savage assault and I have to say I was certainly tired and satiated by the end of the day's activities. We managed to put quite a bit of our most treasured possessions into storage but it was odd to see the house looking bare. I know Rachel found this process harder than me but I suppose she left the place more recently than I. I found it to be strangely freeing.

The week ahead promises fun and we are meeting up with old friends and yet there is a strange lurking gloom hanging over me like a dark shadow that I am finding hard to understand. No doubt, it will leave me alone soon enough. 

Aftermath- 16-12-19

Wow! What a great night we had on Saturday.

After much thought Rach and I took it upon ourselves to host a Christmasish/house-warmingeee, welcome to Tashkenty type ‘do’. And what a success: almost forty people made the effort to attend and everyone engaged in the banter, the game of Mr and Mrs and even the ‘oops our music isn’t working, can you make some’ shenanigans.

We made some very pleasant food and it was great that others chipped in with chicken pie, thai curry (blow your head off hot!) south african sausages, homemade bakes and more. Two days later and we are still in the aftermath of tidying up, washing pots and returning the countless glasses, cooking vessels and chairs to their owners. I love the way everyone ‘mucks in’ here and how people are keen to have fun and engage with each other. I am sure that is the case back in the UK but it needs people to ‘kickstart it’. Here, this is true also but when you do, the take up is considerable and there are always a lot of people happy to be the kicker.

The Saturday morning did not start well however, as we woke up with hangovers- the aftermath of a great night out on Friday, checking out the lights of Tashkent from the top of the Uzbekistan hotel. From here, we walked through to Broadway and drank an awful lot of wine. To add to this, Rach lost her glasses, I lost my phone and the wheels had literally come off the new trolley that Rach bought to help her transport heavy books and files from one campus to the other. After some panic, I found the broken wheel and the glasses outside on the doorstep although I spent the rest of the morning in mourning. No phone. I couldn’t access my social media (how reliant we have become) because I couldn’t remember my passwords and where did they want to send reminders too? That’s right- my PHONE!!!

It had snowed overnight and whilst we were getting ready for the party, I was sorting through some bits and bobs and whilst carrying some things outside, I saw my lonely looking, wet and freezing phone on the front lawn. As the day had warmed up, the snow had melted, and my phone was re-born to my world, shivering in the aftermath of an ice bath. Amazingly, it still worked and the sun wasn’t just shining on the snow it seemed, but on us.

Both Rach and I have continued to enjoy ourselves over the last couple of weeks and we enjoyed a good trip to ECO park and the modern Tashkent cathedral the weekend before last. I am slowly showing Rachel the sights and the many interesting places that Tashkent has to offer. Yet, despite all of this, I am very excited to be finishing and Rach too- after coping so well with the new job- is definitely ready to end the term and begin the exciting festivities. We have done so much shopping online from here and I marvel at how easy it is these days, as long as you have people at home who are happy to store goods for you.

The two weeks off will no doubt fly by and who knows what the aftermath will be. It’s going to be fun to find out though.

Distractions- 03-12-19

It is so warm tonight- the heating blaring out its stifling, invisible warmth which wraps itself around your body and constricts the air from you. I have actually had to open the back door and it is quite cold outside, given that we are now in the middle of an Uzbek winter. It is always the way here- open windows and doors bring with it draft or as I like to call it, fresh air, but many people in Uzbekistan see fresh air as disease inducing. Mind you, many also feel that people can be allergic to red! Travel is fantastic for bringing you new and sometimes bemusing perspectives. What concerns me the most however, is that many of the people of this same culture also happily put their children in a taxi without a seat belt and put that child’s life into the hands of a person (usually a man) who races around town at break neck speed cutting in and out of lanes like they are in a scene from ‘The Phantom Menace’.

You can see, I have been over analyzing and thinking about life here quite a lot lately, probably because finally and get the trumpets ready, my beautiful wife Rachel has finally arrived here to join me. Breathe. She is obviously the ultimate distraction but she has also made me reflect a little more on things, as if seeing them again for the first time.

I am so proud of everything she has done, from dealing with serious invasive surgery, to supporting Kyle through his toughest year yet and for, of course, having the faith and courage to take a step to get on the plane that whisked her here, to Central Asia. She has settled in brilliantly at work and people love her. I knew they would; I never doubted it.

I have to admit to it being quite stressful that after only a couple of days, I was forced to go to Bratislava on school business and so, Rachel was forced to make her own way for her first weekend in a new and entirely different country. I used the word ‘forced’ twice there and on both occasions, it would be true to say that I am once again engaging in liberal usage of hyperbole. After all, being ‘forced’ to fly to Slovakia (another country to tick off) and marvel at the magical Christmas markets, drink fine wine and ‘soak up’ up the tradition and history of this very pleasant city, doesn’t seem quite the right word. Rachel too was ‘forced’ to have a wine night with the ladies from work, go swimming and then shopping at the mall. What a nightmare!

And so, we have both found wonderful ‘distractions’of late and there has been little time to really reflect on what we have done. When we do, I know we we'll be very proud.

We have both been distracted with work, as always and socializing, including a great house party at David’s and a weekend seeing the sites of the war memorial and the very patriarchal earthquake statue. We have also been distracted by buying Christmas presents and booking endless summer holidays and trips. All very pleasant and the time is racing by like Santa’s sledge on Christmas Eve.

And so, as we roll happily into the last few weeks before the break, may we continue to be distracted by the wonderful offerings that life presents us with.

Sprucing Up the Bachelor Pad- 10-11-19

Living in a big old, bare house on your own with hardly any furniture or decoration is fine- absolutely fine. In truth I have hardly noticed it but then a date looms- the date where your partner is due to arrive and re-enter into your life. Bash, boom, smash! It’s like an episode of the old Batman series (apologies if you’re too young). Suddenly, you realise that the place is dull, uninspiring and though I hate to admit it, a bit smelly!

So yesterday, armed with my Uzcard and with back up from Leanne and later Tommy and the kids, I raced around some of the key shopping areas of Tashkent- from the furniture shop to Samarkand Davoza to Media Park and Mega Planet. All very decadent I know but 500 dollars later, the house is transformed. Candles, other smellies, rugs, plants, fruit bowls, a new kitchen table and chairs and of course cushions. This is a shock to me. I have never seen the importance of them and as one fine actor in a certain comedy series once said, cushions are simply ‘sofa pets’. However, I have to admit that the place does feel homelier and I am happier with it for sure. This is where a woman that you love helps to make you a more self-respecting and better man.

After the shopping experience I popped over to Leanne and Tommy’s and joined in a game of Catan along with Nick and Stacey. This is an insane game; a game for geeks, or nerds (not sure of the difference) and yet I have to confess to having enjoyed it. I didn’t make a bad showing of myself either. It is a game of building empires with more rules than  an old victorian school.  I felt at times like I was playing a game of Go Johnny Go go go (watch The League of Gentlemen if you have never seen it). Fantastic stuff! I began thinking how stressed Rach would get with this game and penciled it as perhaps, one to avoid.

Last week, Sarah visited all the way from Alexandria in Egypt. It was great to catch up and she is obviously loving life and travelling and I was reminded once again, how much we have all moved on from those dark Tibby days. Sarah's visit was almost a rehearsal, for when Rach arrives as I had to think of the best place to go for meals and night's out. We had some good conversation and after a few days she began her long journey back via several stops, I believe. Thanks for coming Sarah.

So, what else have I been up to? I’ve written a couple of soppy poems (so excited and loved up), continued to play volleyball weekly and tried to keep pushing on with the school show. It is coming along really well actually and the students are doing us proud. On Friday I played in a pool tournament and lost in the semis. I was disappointed but it was a great night and Paul (the guy who beat me) played very, very well.

The only irritation, and I respect the fact that I am about to sound as pompous and annoying as it is possible to sound is that I have to go to Bratislava in a couple of weeks. Now, of course, that is great but it is only two days after Rach arrives and her first weekend in Tashkent so it hurts. I just want her to be happy and settled. I am also not looking forward to the travelling. I head to Istanbul and then Vienna before catching a train to Bratislava. The trip back is similarly long and I’m not really looking forward to that. However, Slovakia will be another country ticked off the list- not really a big thing to moan about. So, as I count down the days to when Rach arrives, I am smiling, with the bright sunshine of a crisp, Autumn sun, beaming its energy into my transformed abode that no longer resembles Gollum’s lair.

Cable-Car Life 27-10-19

I arrived back from Almaty, in Kazakhstan today after a very pleasant weekend, full of dancing, music, an England semi-final victory, cultural experiences and lots of fun.

One of the features of the main features was the magnificent Tian Shen mountains that hold the biggest city in the country in its firm grasp. They are wonderfully evocative with snowy peaks and steep ascents. There is a cable car to the top which we didn’t take on this occasion but we did take it up to the first base where there are fabulous views of the city. I had the usual flips in the belly when sitting in a metal box, on high, overlooking the motorway and thinking about when this cable car was last inspected but I managed to dispel the thoughts and focused on taking pictures of the majestic panorama.

In my usually overly philosophical way, I began to imagine my own life and the change of direction I have taken, as a cable car, hopefully on its way to great views and new experiences. The threat of falling and failing, ever in the air but the excitement is enough to keep you in the car, heading to somewhere you haven’t seen before.

It is less than a month until Rachel gets here and there is a lot to do in preparation, as the place is bare, to say the least. However, I am delighted that she is excited about jumping on the cable car ride herself. It hasn’t been easy for her as she has started the painful job of saying goodbye to folk and to a life she understands. I was there last year and fully understand the stresses and the fears but also tingle with the memories of the excitement I felt. I know she is feeling that too.

It has been a fun first week back at work after the excitement of half term in Georgia. Yes, they’ll be a substantial blog on its way, make no mistake. The school show rehearsals have been amazingly productive, though tiring as the students jump on their own cable car towards a new destination- hopefully a successful one. The new responsibilities as designated safeguarding lead and overseeing Drama and English have sometimes been stressful but I’m keeping my head above water and the weekend away was a huge bonus.

It has been great to find a 50 metre swimming pool which I have been dipping into quite often of late. I hope to maintain this and jump on the cable car to better fitness. I am currently very out of shape but hopeful for change. So- the months ahead are before me like the cables rising into the sky. Am I frightened about sitting in the car? A little…but it is exciting! 

Bricks and mortar- 07-10-19

Rachel has done it. I cannot say how proud of her I am. To say goodbye to Kyle as he heads off for uni, and then Hattie (our dog) before handing over her car, and then facing a six hour operation on her spine, is truly remarkable. She has a determination and a strength that is simply inspiring beyond belief!

Now she has a sturdy foundation in that back of hers and once she recovers from the inevitable post-op pain I know she will go from stength to strength. It was strange because on the day of the operation I felt odd twinges in my own back and no...it isn't old age. I honestly think I felt sympathy pains from these thousands of miles away. Not being there and not having the chance to hug her and tell her I'm there and won't leave her was heart breaking and I have some dark moments where I sit and simply cry. 

Now though, she and I can begin to build for a different and exciting future, not on 'pillars of salt' but on strong foundations, where we can earn, work and hopefully travel. I am like a little teenager, desperate to get her here now and to show her the sights of Tashkent and beyond. The first part will be sorting internal decor, as it is horrendous but I am sure a few plants and rugs will sort all that. Rach will enjoy putting the final touches together. 

This week has been decent enough. I was out until almost 5 oçlock in the morning after a good Friday night out. Then I played volleyball on Saturday before going to another party at a colleague's house. 

This week is the week before we break up and it has flown by faster than I could have imagined. The weather is still decent (high twenties) but it drops temperature at night time.

On Thursday, I am watching a world cup qualifier between Uzbekistan and Yemen and next week, we head off to Tblisi so I guess I better get up to date with the travel blogs. This busy existence along with a pretty hectic work schedule is keeping me very occupied, so it really won't be long before I'll be greeting Rach off the plane.

I have learnt so much about myself since being here in Central Asia but the main lesson is that I know without question that my foundations are strong but that it is Rachel who is my bricks and mortar. I love you Rach!

Just say ‘No!’ 28-09-19

The door is open, the dark hand of night has taken the light but the heat remains. It’s been warm again today- well over 30 degrees and very pleasant. I love the heat now and since returning from England over a month ago, I have still not experienced any rain.

Life in the new house is now in full swing, as is life at work- and as usual I have been hugely busy, with my calendar (if I possessed one) completely full. Last week I only spent one night at home with a lovely meal out on Tuesday at Peggy’s Bar, quiz night at the indian on Wednesday (we came second), a night watching Pactakor play live footy and last night was beers and casting the new school show. Tonight, I planned to stay in and relax and it is true that I need some down time, I have to say but I’ve been invited to go bowling and as usual, I will probably say…’Yes’.

I’ve never seen the Jim Carrey movie or read the Danny Wallace book of the same title but sometimes I feel like I’m almost doing that. Yes, I have fun and overall, it works but wowzas, with trousers, I’m flippin’ shattered.

Since my last blog, I have had the big 45th birthday and was delighted and surprised when I arrived at my Year 8 lesson to find decorations, a cake, a party popper resembling a small mortar and pupils lighting candles. Once again, health and safety was shockingly poor but the kindness and sentiment was wonderful. My class did me proud before experimenting with the 4 and 5 balloon to make different ages (75) being a grim thought about what might one day happen. Very disconcerting. We scoffed the lovely cake and I confiscated the dangerous items, including a carving knife.

My daughter also had her 21st last week which makes me feel very old indeed and my son also fled the nest. To be frank, I found it very difficult being here in Tashkent and not having the chance to see him off. Nevertheless, you have to accept the bad with the good when you do something like this- though it doesn’t hurt any less saying that.

Part 2

It is now the 29th and ‘yes’ I did go out last night- played quite well actually, for me. Today will be all about working- re-writing an Uzbek version of We Will Rock You being predominant in my mind. Though I must look closely at the A level and stay a lesson ahead of these super smart guys.

And so, I am now focused on getting stuff done here in the house and for work. I will no doubt receive calls and messages to do something infinitely more fun in the next few days but I have shaken myself down, given myself a ‘jolly good’ talking to and am absolutely committed to saying ‘NO!’ Wish me luck!

Waiting for Rachel 14-09-19

It’s warm again after a couple of days of mild temperatures. I think it’ll top 30 degrees today so an afternoon swim in the pool might be just what’s needed. Yesterday was Friday the 13th but it passed by without incident. I've never really been superstitious.

So, my first complete week back and, how was it? In truth, chaotic beyond even my imaginings: printers not working, internet dodgy, pupils without technology and resources somehow trapped in the dark hole that is Uzbekistan’s customs- a place where only the very bravest might venture. That said, I saw a photograph on Facebook this week of a school where the side wall had been blown off in the fighting in Yemen. With no side wall pupils sat on the floor in the ruins, whilst a teacher spoke to them seemingly without a board, equipment, resources or anything else. Now, that is teaching! One day, I want to put myself in that situation but until then…I’ll just keep on, keeping on!

Despite the many reasons to be frustrated, I have been fine. My class groups are super and the kids have been very happy to see me back which is good for the self-esteem and makes me want to put in that extra little bit of effort. A level has been fun to teach but challenging, as I knew it would be and, in truth, I have to stay a lesson ahead of the youngsters as there are some super bright sparks in there (one of which is perhaps the smartest kid I have ever taught). But, why all the ‘shop talk’? You may ask. What happened to all the fun and the travels? Is it really just a job now?

Increasingly, it is.

I have finally accepted that I am at work and running the department is a big part of that, as I am now responsible for others again. However, I have it in perspective. Most nights last week, I enjoyed a beer or two with folk and on Wednesday we had a good giggle down at Broadway, over some nice pasta. Last night, Cameron came around for home cooked food- I was delighted with it actually and he seemed impressed. We watched various humorous musical acts such as Mnozil brass and Dudley Moore before talking about the school show, which is going to be ‘We Will Rock You’. It was interesting looking back at those piccies from when I directed it, so many years ago. How time shoots along without us realising it?

Tonight, we are off to a party at Kerri’s for her 61st birthday. She has a startling amount of energy for someone of that age and you have to admire her for that. There is just the question of a present and I have no idea what I should be getting. I am, of course excited about Rach coming here and wanting to show her the sights that I’ve seen; this will no doubt galvanise me into action at the weekends. I also want to start working on improving the bare necessities of our interior décor. It’s odd when you are away from ‘home’…wherever that actually is. You don’t want to buy too many things but you do feel a need to make a place your own. When Rach gets here, it will be photo frame shops, rugs, kitchen furniture, plants and the works. Then, we’ll be able to call this place our home…for a while anyway. 

Until that time I'll just keep waiting for Rachel.

Persistence 05/09/19

I have just written two and a half thousand words on my Rome blog and the computer crashed. I am furious, incensed! Yet somehow, at almost 11 at night, I persist as if I have to create something tonight or else the night will have been wasted. I might have learned this from being here in Uzbekistan. You simply have to get yourself up again and again despite disappointments and if I can publish this ditty, then at least the night will not have been nothing.

Today was my first day back at work, in terms of students being in and guess what? Same as last year: I can’t print; resources are stuck in customs (almost certainly because they weren’t ordered on time) and the internet at work seems to have a mind of its own. Yet, the whole situation hasn’t stressed me. I feel like Jack in Clive Barker’s ‘The Yattering and Jack’, (worth a read). Just got to carry on. The difference this year is that I have staff who work under me, (not literally like in some sort of dominating sexual way of course). The problem is when the solutions are beyond your knowledge, expertise or ability.

So, persistence is the answer and persist is what I do.

The joy, in truth, of returning to school was tangible, and beautiful. Pupils racing down corridors to say hello and others whispering your name with happiness is what makes the job worthwhile. I am already part of the furniture and hope to stay that way.

It has been an easy start to my time back here in Tashkent. I managed to fit in a trip to Andijan and Margilon with a few mates (more on that when I re-write my Rome blog- argh!!!!) I have also caught up with friends, enjoyed some lovely nights out and settled in to my new home on the compound (not a prison). Here, we can swim in the full size pool, play tennis and generally relax.

Yet, I wish so much that Rachel was here with me. This plagues my mind- she is in the stressful situation of facing taking Kyle to uni, enduring an operation on her spine, selling memorabilia from our house so that we can rent it and preparing herself for coming to Uzbekistan. To be honest, this would break most people but I can only admire her persistence.

It will be so exciting to have her here with me and for us to fully go for it! This was the dream…this can still be the dream…this will be the dream.

We just need to persist.

One Dark Shadow in a Perfect Summer- 19-08-19

I am still in limbo at the moment as I await my visa from the Uzbek embassy. It has been a hugely stressful time (check out my rants and musings) and with only a few days left to receive my visa, I am certainly becoming more and more anxious.

I knew that incompetence was rife but the chaps at the Uzbek embassy have taken it to a new level. 'Shocking' doesn't cover it at all.

Still, I will not dwell any more on this subject. 

It has been a lovely couple of weeks to be honest. The highlight being the wonderful night of poetry and music at the Linden theatre (my sister's new venture). It was a small gathering including my sister, her family , my mum and Dad, Georgia and Kyle and my wonderful Auntie Marie and Gus. I was delighted as I read seven poems and they were really well received. I was nervous, as I begun the night with a Macbeth monologue and though it went very well, I have to admit to feeling a lot of pressure as this was the opening act of the night.

I was so proud of Rach- who read two excellent short stories with real gusto and character- her old dinner lady type character, was enacted with gruesome menace, worthy of a Roald Dahl story. Both my wonderful kids were great, reading poetry with heart and character and nothing like the rubbish I used to churn out when I was their age- nonsensical, pretentious drivel that I dressed up as profund musings. My kids are a whole running track ahead of me and that's great!

The night moved along at pace and it was lovely to see Gus, somewhat sozzled in the wee hours. I think he had thoroughly enjoyed it.

Since the opening of The Linden Theatre I have been trying to see as much of 'real England' as I can, before heading back to Central Asia. So, Rach, myself and Jackie headed out to Wells-next-the-sea. I was keen to see the beach as I live in a double landlocked country. Comically, the sea was almost a mile away from the land so we didn't see much of it but it was nice to sit on the beach and the sun was out most of the time during the morning. Hattie loves the beach and bounds around like she is in some dulux puppy advert. She certainly slept well when we got her home.

Later in the week I walked Curbar Edge with my old friend Tony Booker. We did about five miles in stunning Derbyshire countryside and I have to say, it was very pleasant and quintessentially English. We were philosophical about life, the journey, and Englishness- the future, post-Brexit and many other subjects. We enjoyed a lovely pint, which Tony bought (cheers Tony!) and finished the circular walk. See you next year Booker!

Last night, I went to see the new Tarantino film, 'Once upon a Time in Hollywood'. I'm a big fan of Tarantino but this movie has been a hard one to deconstruct in my mind. Essentially I left with the view that although there were some wonderful pastiches of film making days gone by and some hilarious moments, I didn't really see the point of it! I wasn't sure what it was trying to do. However, like a lot of good films, the more I thought about it and the more I researched into it, particularly the whole Charles Manson story (which is used and abused in the film), I began to appreciate it more. Maybe I need to watch it a couple more times.

So, the perfect summer so far except one thing-   the VISA!!! The dark portentous shadow looming over me saying- 'Life has to have dark moments and I am hear to provide it!' (Read that again with a melodramatic Gandalf voice).

As it stands, my start date is in the lap of the gods and I have no idea when it will arrive. I have done everything in my power to try and make it happen but others who have blundered around me could have helped to cost me over a thousand pounds. Cheers!

A Few Days with Shantaram 6/08/19

A year ago I was gearing up for what I thought was the most enormous moment of my life: full of danger, uncertainty and risk- imagining myself dangling off a cliff or walking the rickety bridge over a pit of crocodiles. How wrong could I be? 

My life has changed a lot: true. However, it really wasn't and still isn't the enormous, potential hazard the natural safety features in my head somehow manufactured. I moved to another country and worked out there for a while doing something I know how to do. It isn't that big- it isn't that brave and it really isn't hazardous- anymore than everyday life is.

Now, a year later, I feel great about the summer I've had so far; relish the time I have here but genuinely look forward to great times ahead back in Tashkent. If I'm honest, I'm actually starting to miss the place and the people. I have a raft of ideas of things I want to do this year (whoops I almost said 'achieve' but this isn't a work's appraisal) and I'm keen to get 'cracking'.

Though I have been to three European cities (4 if you include the Vatican) in recent weeks, I am surprisingly fresh and if someone asked me to do some more travelling next week, I'd still bite their hand off for the chance. Nevertheless, the last few days since throwing my coin in the Trevi fountain have been lovely. I have 'pottered' around peacefully thinking about next year, doing a few bits in the house, spending some quality time with Rachel and reading.

Now then, my title this week. 'Shantaram' is the title of a book by Gregory David Roberts based on his struggles in the Mumbai underworld. The word 'Shantaram' means 'man of peace'or 'man of God'. I have certainly felt at peace of late and the book is fabulous for the spirit, the soul and is a balm for troubled minds. I heartily recommend the book and it has been a lovely way to spend my days of late: reflecting my mood entirely.

Tonight I meet up with a couple of good friends and tomorrow I head down to Rochester to catch up with Ang- my literary pal! Then I head to Cambridge to pick up Georgia as at the weekend we have the inaugural opening of my sister's theatre in her garden. Here I will read a few poems and perform a monologue or two. I'm really looking forward to it.

In the mean time I hope everyone finds some inner calm- Shantaram.

The Coin in the Trevi- 28/07/19

So tomorrow I go to Rome- and yes, I will write a blog about it for my ever growing travel blogs.

Years ago- almost twenty, I visited this amazing city with Rach and we strutted our way around the place feeling pretty proud that we'd even managed to afford to visit. It is an amazing memory etched in my mind for eternity. We sat by the trevi fountain, threw a coin in of course and knew we were destined to return together. And here we are...

Since that time, I have been to Rome three times but never with Rach again and I am so looking forward to walking those ancient streets again and re-living our time there, albeit with plumper midriffs and considerably less hair (in my case- balding, in Rachel's- style).

This will be the last of my jet setting trips away this summer after visits to Budapest and Berlin and then I will have to begin my exciting plans for my return to sunny Tashkent- it's over 40 degress there at the moment so I hope it calms down a little.

I have to say that the summer hols have been magnificent and perhaps the best I've ever had. It's been a wonderful mix of calm, reading, relaxing with busy and energetic sight seeing and great catch ups with friends and family. Yet here I am speaking as if it's over. It isn't- and there are a lot of good times to look forward to. 

As I sit here looking out at the rain tip tapping against the window my mind pictures the Trevi fountain once more- I'm pretty sure I'll throw a coin in again.

The Life of Riley- 11-07-19

The toughest part of today has been deciding when I ought to have a beer. Amazingly, I haven’t had one yet and have put it off all day. Small victories! I’ve been back in England for two weeks now and frankly it has been as if I have never been away. Chesterfield is as it was except for the huge monstrosity they are building next to and on the site of the famous doughnut roundabout. The people I have caught up with are continuing in much the same way as they were before (and why wouldn’t they)?

It has been nice to drink good beer again, eat lovely cheese and understand everything everyone is saying to you but other than that there really is nothing here in the UK that makes me want to stay put! No offence intended in terms of family of course!

Since being back however, I have been so relaxed and infinitely happy it seems; there is absolutely no pretense in my generally cheery disposition that seems to possess me at all times.

Sorry- pause…beer o’çlock.

The first sip is always nectar!

I have realized how lucky I am. Most people go about their daily work as always and even teachers still have their noses firmly to the grindstone. Yet I have just loved being at home, relaxing, watching Wimbledon, eating when I wish, little walks into town; stroll with the dog and a read. I read Fahrenheit 451 for the first time in just two days- verdict still out on it to be honest. And now I am getting fully to grips with the truly mesmerizing ‘Shantaram’. Like I said- very lucky. Poor Rach has continued to go to work but I smile at her amazing stories of how well she is getting on with the students and the jokes and laughs she has with them all it seems.

Last weekend, the ‘Clun who no longer go to Clun’ group reconvened- this time in Edale for a couple of nights of drinking and banter. It was calmer than last year and there were less pranks but it was great to catch up with ex-colleagues and good friends and see where they are. Only three of the twenty or so still work at Tibshelf- a sign of the general demise of a once excellent school. I had thought before the trip that this might be the last of our meet ups with us all going in different directions but somehow it made the whole experience even more entertaining with fascinating stories (usually very positive ones) to tell. It is clear what a good bunch they are as we can be apart for ages and then act as if nothing has ever changed.

On Tuesday, I headed down to Cambridge to spend some time with Georgia. It was pleasant sitting on the train instead of driving and any time spent with Georgia is precious to say the least. She took me to several nice bars but the highlight was our dinner at Doppelganger- a superbly titled vegan restaurant that specializes in creating the most flavoursome burgers imaginable. I had a burger with pulled jackfruit and it was enormous, immensely tasty and confusing. I thought I was eating real meat. The cheese that covered the outstanding fries that I had as an accompaniment was like a proper, good quality mature cheddar. This place is the best- truly incredible.

The next morning, Georgia took me for breakfast where she works- the vegan place, ‘Stem and Glory’- again food of the absolute highest quality. If people knew how to make food as good as this there really, and I say this with the knowledge that meat eaters everywhere will be shaking their heads and rolling their eyes, would be no need to eat meat again and no desire. If you’re around Cambridge- check the places out- stunning.

The bubble that I once lived in has burst quite dramatically and I no longer see the world in the same insular way I did before. There is no going back now! I just have to do other stuff and there is an awful lot of the world to see isn’t there? Nevertheless, it is pleasant to be back on English turf- at least for a while.

I have such perspective at the moment, am totally at ease with myself and others, ambitious for the things I can do with my life and frankly extremely lucky to be the person I am and to have both the opportunities and the time to do all the wonderful things I am doing. With Budapest, Berlin and Rome all on the horizon in the next few weeks, I really am living the life of Riley.

Last Day- Wednesday 26th June 2019

I know the blog title sounds extremely dramatic, like I’ll never breathe again or like an order from ‘Logan’s Run’ (if you haven’t seen it- it’s dated but a great concept). What I mean of course, is that I am here in Tashkent on the last day of the school term. It is odd as it doesn’t feel like the end of term somehow. I think it’s because it’s been warm and sunny for a long time and I have been swimming in the pool at the compound as if I’m on holiday. I haven’t really been properly teaching for a couple of weeks as pupils have been doing project based work. All of this has meant that there isn’t the same relief and need for a holiday as I would normally have felt in England despite obviously wanting to spend time at home and see Rach, the kids; friends and family.

My last Sunday in Tashkent (for now) was very interesting as I agreed to judge a drama competition at Merit Education- a language school. The whole process was humbling and very pleasant indeed. There were four drama groups who had made the final and who were presenting moments or enactments of scenes from certain chosen films. Considering these students were performing in their third language, I was gobsmacked! The first group performed Harry Potter complete with intricate costumes, flashing strobe effects, chemistry experiments live on the judges desk, strange smells and eerie music. I suppose I’m giving the game away here but they won. It was a truly immersive experience and one of the girls who played a friend of Voldemort (sorry, I’m not a massive Potter fan) was mesmerizing in her acting-truly!

However, at times I felt it might be the last day for all of us as the health and safety was nonexistent- candles lit standing on carpets, a lighter and aerosol fire spray live on stage (in the Home Alone group) and fighting with actual metal (possibly slightly blunt but scary nonetheless) katanas- at one point holding it at a child’s throat. However, they got away with it as most people do- the law of averages- was on their side and I’m glad they had the opportunity to perform. Many of the students wanted selfies- to chat and it felt like being a minor celebrity. A wonderful new ‘first’ on my 'last' Sunday.

The last assembly today was lovely with no expense spared, some excellent and fully deserved certificates ‘dished out’ and some great music from the different school bands. The highlight being when one of the boys sung Í Want to Break Free’ with such confidence that it made the crowd gasp in unison. He then went into an encore of ‘Bad Moon Rising’ to genuine gasps from the audience.

Amongst the 'lasts', I had my first visit to the clinic yesterday however, as my stomach problems returned. I have to say that the service I received there was incredible. I booked an appointment at 10 for 11 and was finished by 11.10, loaded with several different meds. The doctor was outstanding, (didn’t go on to ‘Doctor Google’ once) gave me a full examination, asked extremely pertinent questions- diagnosed the issue and gave me the medication. Amazing service! I feel a lot better today.

At the weekend I moved house, with the help of my friends Richard and Steve. I am now living in a rather large house with a couple of balconies, garage and very spacious living quarters as oppose to the rather small flat I have resided in all year. It is a little further from town but all the necessary amenities are nearby and I think Rach will enjoy it when she arrives.

So now, I get a ‘last’ swim in this lovely pool, a ‘last’ curry at Mairi and Steve’s and a ‘last’ sleep in Tashkent- at least for a while.

UK- I’m on my way!

Warsaw and Back! 10th June -16th June

I have returned from what has been a remarkable trip to Warsaw.

If I was being honest, it didn’t start well. I had spent most of the weekend suffering with severe stomach issues, faintness and headaches- I had not recovered before the trip began and it was extremely hard to put on a brave face when children around me were whinging and whining about nothing.

Fortunately I survived.

We took a flight to Istanbul and then to Warsaw. It was pleasant enough apart from the bad stomach and the children were well behaved. It took me a while to adjust to the Year 6 behaviour traits of immaturity, panic and selfishness coupled with a frightening oblivious nature to almost every danger known to human kind.

Thankfully, we arrived safely at the hotel with all the students alive and present. In truth, it wasn’t the best start...the electrics were down in the hotel, the receptionist was clueless and the lift broken. ‘You are on the sixth floor,’ he said with a sort of camp smugness that made the blood boil after such a tiring journey. I asked if we could have some sandwiches making but the kitchens were closed. I even offered to make them myself!

They didn’t get it at all!

The wait for the Subway we eventually ordered was disproportionately long and this was coupled with irritating Telegram messages from parents telling me that their kids were hungry. “I bloody know! I’m here!” I thought. Modern technology at its worst...a pestering service we pay to keep in our pockets.

In the afternoon we visited the school. It was very pleasant and the atmosphere was one of joy unlike the quite cold atmosphere present in our school in Tashkent. That evening we were subjected to almost three hours of talks about modern technology and engineering. Some more impressive than others but the speakers lost most of our students who were befuddled by the concepts, the language, the vocabulary and were of course, shattered from the long flight and jet lag. I walked one girl out at the end of the night as if she was a giant puppet. Another I woke up by throwing water in her face( only a small amount) and I thought she’d cry. It had been a crazily long day. Sleep came easily for all of us.

Over the next two days we enjoyed a number of exciting activities including: bridge building; drone flying, coding spheros and hacking a cube. One or two activities were less impressive and the delivery of the teaching was varied in terms of quality but overall I felt it was well organised and interesting. The most impressive moment , for me, was meeting the Year 10 students from America who presented their new inventions. They were very impressive and presented better than most of the teachers to be honest.

In the evening we enjoyed an amazing 3D movie about the future of engineering which was truly incredible, inspiring and at times it made me cry such was its emotional depth. Our students were mixed in their level of enjoyment and appreciation but it really was excellent.

We also visited the Coppernicus museum which was full of wonderful interactive science activities which was a wonder for adults and kids alike. By this point on the trip, personalities were coming out and bonds were being made. Apart from the constant questions, I was enjoying spending time with them and they were very funny. On one evening we set up a thumb war competition which was great and on another, Miss Nodira (my outstanding colleague) wrote nicknames for the kids and they had to guess who everyone was. The pinnacle however had to be when we asked the students to impersonate staff and we had to guess who they were mocking. It was hilarious and highly observant.

Working with students who have English as a second language can however have added difficulties: listening can be an issue and often students will nod as if they have understood and yet inside, have no idea what you have just instructed them to do. I also had a couple of issues with one student whose attitude reminded me of some of the divas back in England. On one occasion she packed her case and walked off because she wasn’t getting her own way. Without ‘blowing one’s own trumpet’ I used a range of diplomatic skills that would have been useful at the UN. Brexit I’m sure would be easy in comparison. Nodira was amazing too but this attitude and teenage angst is rare here and a new, less confident or nervous teacher might have been in a very challenging situation indeed.

The STEAM week concluded with a fab showcase where students were able to display their inventions and achievements. They had done brilliantly. Our students did themselves proud and we received lots of positive comments from other staff about the kids of Tashkent. Four of our students had been team leaders. We were very proud.

Almost all of the schools left around Friday lunch but we had more days to fill before our flight on Sunday evening and so we took the students to the local mall where they shopped like no students I’ve ever seen before: flashing cash around as if it meant nothing! Nodira made me smile a lot on this trip. It was her first time in Europe and the sight of her face when we sat down for a giant Starbucks was priceless. She was so excited. The kids shopped for hours. We relaxed for perhaps the first time on the trip.

Saturday began with a well earnt lie in. After a late breakfast, we braved the local public transport to the old town. This place is incredible and totally rebuilt after the second world war. They have done a magnificent job with beautiful coloured buildings; many with murals alongside craft ale shops, souvenir stalls and street performers. We allowed students some time to explore and Nodira and I enjoyed an outdoor restaurant. It was about 35 degrees and I was dripping in the sun. There was one place where water spurted from pipes used to cool the ground. Typically, I walked straight through it and many of the kids joined in. It was a lot of fun.

The evening was filled with games and activities; after some lovely food at the local mall. I slept well that night. On Sunday we played games in the park after tidying the rooms before grabbing some lunch and heading back to the airport. It was a thoroughly lovely day and the journey home relatively painless. It was a strange feeling as we hit the runway at Tashkent airport. I had loved being away for a week and the break, albeit a hard one, had been pleasant. Yet returning to Tashkent did feel like retuning home and I was actually pleased to be back.

07-06-19 Nervous as Hell!

It's been a great week. Thanks to the wonders of the Muslim faith we were given an extra two days holiday for Eid, meaning that we were effectively given a weekend in the middle of the week. I made the most of this, and headed down to the compound that Rach and I will be living on next year. The pool was beautiful and the sun glorious and so it felt as though we were actually on a summer holiday somewhere. Most folk were about and it was good to get a sense of what life might be like next year.

The youngsters here are hilarious and lovely. I spent quite a bit of time teaching one of the young girls how to break dance- tapping in to my eighties efforts on the card board boxes that we cut up and spread out across our front gardens when we were young. She loved it. All the children can't wait to meet Hattie and hopefully some of them will be happy to dog sit. Let's see!

We enjoyed some pizza and Mairi allowed me to stay over. We sat on the balcony for a while on the tapchan and enjoyed the 'perfect storm'. Constant thunder and lightning like something out of Frankenstein lit up the sky as if it was daytime. It was the most aggressive thunder storm I have ever seen but was amazing. We eventually had to beat a retreat and so after a little more wine, bed time approached. 

Tonight I went to see Aleko, an opera by Rachmaninoff. The performance was odd as the leads were horribly cast and the singing not great. However, the chorus work was excellent and it was, once again, an interesting experience. 

So, the fear- the nervousness. This Sunday I head off to Warsaw with sixteen students. I have some limited idea about what we are doing but my brazen confidence is receeding a little and I am simply hoping my usual good fortune will see me through. Then, and only then can I truly think of my trip home. 

Good friends, goodbyes, Shakespeare in the street and a great show- 26-05-19 

Warning- this blog contains graphic descriptions of belching 

Imagine a person with hand outstretched, hanging off a cliff seizing hold of the hand that will save them and the fingers slowly, ever so slowly unfurling. There is a critical point: that's where I am today.

O.K. It's over dramatic as usual but you know me!

I haven't written my diary for a few weeks now as I've been literally too busy to do it and yet despite this business, I am swamped with work to the point where I am choosing my blog instead, with the crazy and forlorn hope that it might disappear and that by the end of writing it, I might still be holding on to the saviour's hand. A couple of weeks ago, my good friend David Brooks visited before being joined by my other good friend Dave Banks. It was excellent to have some contact with my world back in the UK as well as share some parts of Uzbekistan that had fascinated me since being here. We had some good nights out sharing some decent food and drink and whilst they were here we discovered the wonders of 'The Beer Bank'- a craft ale place in Tashkent with around 15 beer taps and a little room on the side with about three tables, some upturned beer barrels and bright red walls. It's a lovely place to drink and the beer was excellent, particularly the 'Harry Porter'- my favourite beer so far in Uzbekistan.

I showed them the sights, the memorials and of course Chorsu market but after a few days here in Tashkent, we headed for the overnight train to Bukhara- it was great to see Bukhara again in the sunshine (it reached 37 degrees at one point) and to see that the fountains and water features were now full. This had been a big disappointment when I had visited with my parents. After seeing all the sights, we headed for Samarkand- which despite being my fourth visit since being here, was a lot of fun. The highlight for me was seeing the Amir Temur tomb lit up at night. It was stunning.

Our train back to Tashkent from Samarkand arrived late at night and I cooked up some food for the chaps before seeing the first David off, back to the UK. Dave banks stayed on and headed for Khiva whilst i tried to get back into the throws of work- stressful as we had the school show coming up and Gill, the drama teacher, had already said that we should cancel it. I had, somewhat crazily, said we could make it work and so I felt that my head was on the metaphorical block.

To add to this, I had agreed to learn a smallish Shakespeare part so that Dave could record me somewhere in Tashkent and so that I could be part of Hasland theatre's production of Macbeth. I have to confess that this was a great experience. Dave found a site near the train station that was a little abandoned and looked as if a bomb had landed there. We tried a few takes in a variety of locations around this area but the highlight for me was when I crawled under an upturned concrete pipe and recited my lines loudly with a bloody tartan towel on my head (actually a shirt of mine that I had ripped and covered in sticky pomegranate glaze) whilst locals strolled by, paused, opened their mouth in surprise before walking on with an expression that could be described as a sort of horror. It was hard to concentrate but thanks to Dave's support and some skillful editing, I think we finally got the result we wanted. I hope Heather likes it. It will be nice to know that I am back on the stage at Hasland again- a place I miss a lot.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before I had to say goodbye to Dave too. It was great having both my friends over but now I realised that the final month before the holidays would be just me. And so- show time. After three massive days of rehearsing, the show was starting to come together. I was feeling like my old self again- the guy that got excited about performances and I could see the joy in the students' faces as they began to realise it would actually all work out. It absolutely did. Yes, it was a little bit thrown together in parts and we had to deal with the usual problems of admin, and just being in Uzbekistan- where parents and relatives had to bring passports to get in to the performance- but at the end when the thank yous were 'dished out', the students were cheering loudly and it was clear that they really appreciated the staff and their efforts. The four of us had been a good team- 'Beauty and the Beast' had been a success! Next year...erm, don't even think about it.

Last night Mairi had her leaving do and as I suspected, it was very well attended. We had beers, wines, dancing, singing (from Mairi herself as well as the choir) and good laughs. The food was fab too. The highlight was apparently a ridiculous dance that Anthony and I did in traditional uzbek hats. We were awful but comical and Mairi said it had been one of the funniest if not the funniest thing she had seen all year. If I'm honest I was just pleased to be there as I had spent most of the morning and afternoon in bed. I had felt really weak and a ghost of myself, in truth, as if I wasn't even there. I could barely walk around the flat before collapsing on to something vaguely soft and putting my head in my hands. Having slept, Steve and Rich came round- they drank my beer, took the piss and laughed at me but it seemed to work and then it began.

I did warn you at the beginning- the belching! It was as if some demonic force was trying to escape from my body and I do not know how it got in there in the first place. These burps were beyond anything natural, at intervals, volcanic eruptions with small bits of sick in them and other deep guttural moans, earthquakes if you will, that shook the fabric of my body. This near natural disaster continued for the best part of forty minutes as my friends laughed, giggled and even spat beer on to the floor in disbelief as it seemed that I was trying to give birth to a new world, a new big bang! The worst thing was that I was singing at 7.30pm and was beginning to wonder that I would not be able to control it and burp in the ambassador's wife's face. Fortunately, the tremors finally receded and normality was restored. I began to feel a lot better.

So, the cliff and the outstretched hand? Well, I have no more excuses. Fingers fully furled, grip strong- a day and evening of work is pure survival now and so I go on, once more, into the breach dear friends.

Limboland 27-04-19

The sun is out today as I sit on the verandah at the Irish bar, which is particularly pleasant as it has rained all week- virtually monsoon conditions at times. When it rains here the place is turned into a swamp as drainage is very poor and I have occasionally had to circumnavigate puddles, adding a few hundred metres on to my journey!

I feel in a strange state of limbo at the moment. The end of the year is in touching distance now and I crave time back in the UK if I’m honest yet there are still a lot of things to look forward to so on the one hand I want this experience to end for a while but on the other, I have lots I still want to do. There is the school show coming up in May and my imminent trip to Warsaw with sixteen students- both of which leave me excited and terrified in equal measure.

This last week has been fun and it feels odd that only a week ago I was in Andijon- the birthplace of Babur who founded the Moghul empire in India. On Thursday I went to the Ilhom theatre to watch ‘White White, Black Black Stork’- an Uzbek play with live English subtitles. It was superb and as good as anything I have seen in England- a powerful, evocative piece that touches upon some highly controversial topics especially for Tashkent- which is where the play is set. Homo-sexuality (illegal here) as well as subversive criticisms of Islam and the patriarchal nature of Uzbekistan were all covered and our students found some of it hard to watch. The ending made my hairs stand up on my arms as the centre piece of the set collapsed on to the ground very suddenly with accompanying loud chord crashes. It was excellent. The play made me realise that this country still feels like it is in limbo. The old soviet control conventions holding hands with Uzbek traditions whilst the ground beneath it shakes with a young voice evident at places like The Human House where live bands play challenging songs and the Ilhom theatre which has a sort of Edinburgh fringe feel about it. Tashkent is certainly in transition- a place in between worlds.

Last night I drank far too much wine after singing at the Queen’s birthday bash. Well…it was free after all. The singing was decent, though I feel we left our best performance in the rehearsal room which is a shame. It was pleasant to roam the garden afterwards and catch up with a few staff I haven’t seen for a while. The food was pleasant enough though it didn’t always know what it wanted to be. The brie, strawberry and mint combination just didn’t and will never work! They attempted fish and chips to a limited degree of success- so I was told (being veggie, the fish was out). Yet it was free so certainly no reason to complain. The ambassador made a powerful speech about the relations between Uzbekistan and Britain which was inspiring actually and I was impressed as he spoke in Uzbek (no mean feat). I left the do sozzled and ready for home but somehow ended up here, at the irish- don’t worry I have been home since! I ordered a beer but didn’t drink it and then we ended up at the Hammersmith bar where I danced without a break for two hours. Afterwards, I felt sober and actually remembered how much fun a good dance is. I got home around two am and slept soundly.

This weekend should be a relatively quiet one though I am looking forward to tonight as Steve and I head up to the Lokomotiv stadium to watch the footy and then over to the compound for beers and late night championship footy at Craig and Gill’s. So- as I said, lots of fun is still being had and lots to look forward to but a massive part of my mind is still in the UK at the moment so I will have to dwell here in a strangely pleasant limbo for a couple of months.

A Massive Shout up for Uzbek Women- 16-04-19

I keep meaning to go to bed but some part of my imagination simply comes alive at night and recently, I seem to be addicted to writing whether it be poetry, blogs or whatever!

It is gone 11 and I should be lying back to sleep but I just had to put finger to keyboard (not as catchy as 'pen to paper'is it?) 

Tonight I visited the Navoiyy Theatre to watch the outstanding all female cast in Qyrq Qyz. The piece was in Uzbek with translation in russian which didn't really help me but I still thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Here, women are certainly subservient to men and under the last president Islam Karimov this play was banned from performances in Uzbekistan but under the more liberal regime it seems they can now tell this outstanding and ancient tale once more.

It is the story of Gulayim, a warrior leader told through word of mouth down the years in epic sagas akin to viking folklore. The story is known throughout Central Asia- a tale of forty women under the command of a warrior leader. Following her father's death she and her warriors fight off many of their oppressors- pushing back persian expansion and fighting against the vicious nomads that frequented the steppe. They also occupied a great fort which I haven't seen but I did visit one in Termez that was similar in architecture so I could sense the place at least.

The performance was mesmerising in places despite the lack of translation. Haunting and ethereal vocal lines soared from these wonderfully talented musicians as they impressed with their outstanding eastern sounding close harmonies. There were plaintive and often heart- wrenching melodies and occasional guttural noises that stirred inasmuch as they frightened. Add to this, outstanding, virtuoso musicianship across a range of ancient and traditional instruments, wonderfully ambient though very sparse lighting and some awe-inspiring pictures of the steppe and it was no surprise that we all left the theatre with a smile in our hearts.

Yet, the smile wasn't engendered simply from the sublime musicianship and creativity but from the sense that womanhood was beng celebrated in all its glory: a tale of brave heroines told by wonderfully talented women and clapped vociferously with occasional whoops and cheers (not common in Uzbekistan) in a country where female independence is in its infancy.

We took two young and highly intelligent Uzbek ladies with us and we raved about the performance afterwards. Then one said she had to get back- it was just after 8 and her father expected her home. She was 19. There is clearly a long way to go for equality in terms of rights for men and women but plays like this are certainly vital in terms of setting the correct tone for this change to happen. Couple that with the gloriously rebellious graffitti we saw on a wall outside of school, which translates as, 'rebellion forever, domestication never', and there might just be a reason to get excited about change.

The rest of this week will no doubt be less exhilarating but I head off to Andijan on Friday to watch an away footy game but also to see some more historical sites. With the sun in the sky, my year 11 set to leave on May 1st and having just found a place that sells wonderful beer, (for the first time in Tashkent), there are a lot of reasons to feel good.

On the Cusp of Afghanistan- 06-04-19

So, it's a hugely grand title for the blog today and it's perhaps not as exciting as all that. However, it is true that in a couple of hours I am heading off to Termez, the hottest city in Uzbekistan. 

It has been a pain to be honest as we booked a morning flight but as things are often awkward here, there was no guarantee, of course, that the flight time would remain the same. And so it turned out to be. I received a call from, it has to be said, a very polite lady telling me that we would now fly at 3 in the afternoon, thereby taking five hours off our weekend, which is a shame as it's only a weekend trip and we'll be back at the 'ranch' on Monday.

Never mind! "We'll that be o.k.?"the lady said. I puffed out my cheeks, rolled my eyes, nodded, although I have no idea why (she was on the other end of the phone!) and then simply said, 'Yes". After all, this is Uzbekistan.

The week as a whole has been quite pleasant. The weather has continued to warm up a lot and I have had some entertaining evenings to say the least. On Tuesday, I managed to defeat Cameron in two sets of tennis which for a fat, oldy is quite nice, especially as he had beaten me for the last few weeks. In the evening, we headed to the Sultan Saroy- a beautiful restaurant where the lights were shining and although we were close to the road, the traffic was remarkably quiet. We polished off a couple of bottles of Bagizagan and enjoyed some nice food. The funniest moment however, was when the waiter brought the rice after we had finished our meals. Now, this wasn't paella, or egg fried rice but simply a bowl of boiled rice. 'Nyet"we said and sent him packing. He looked gobsmacked.

It never ceases to amaze how relaxed they are with service and bringing food. I am a massive lover of the spanish concept of tapas and food coming out to share but I cannot think of anyone who wants just a bowl of boiled rice as a second course after their main meal. But...this is Uzbekistan. 

Wednesday was nice and we ate at Afsona with a good bunch of folk many of whom I had seen for a few weeks as we were all wrapped up in the melee of work. Cameron and I went for more vodka and we sank a bottle and wished we hadn't at school the next day. 

The school show is making us all very stressed at the moment as pupils simply don't have inititative, drive or any sense of independence here. They are so used to getting things done for them that they simply don't understand that the level of work reuqired to produce a show. It has been immensely stressful and several of the staff want to shut the thing down to avoid embarrassment. Experience tells me, carry on, carry on, carry on...but I do, see their point.

So, a normalish week in Tashkent- the sun out, a flight this afternoon and the weirdest type of stress sitting on my skin but not finding its way under the surface. 

Happy birthday to my wife for tomorrow. It won't be long!

The Long Slog- 30-03-19

Another tardy period of not writing in the blog and I am still behind with my recent trips to Bukhara and Samarkand with my parents. Oh, well.

I’m not getting tired of the blog but sometimes I am so busy that I don’t find the time to write. Last week was a toughie. I found myself ‘flying by the seat of my pants’ as I had had a great week away with my parents and I was behind with my planning. In truth, I never recovered all week. Thursday being the biggest low as I had a massive hangover and struggled all day. Tuesday was also challenging as I had my first observation from the head. The timing couldn’t have been much worse: A week away and my parents still in the country for a last meal at the Georgian on Monday night and only twenty-four hour’s notice had been given. Fortunately it went really well and I received some great feedback. Sometimes I don’t know how I blag my way through.

Next year, I will be head of English and Drama so I am trying my best to think about the faculty requirements but we are two teachers short and a school half built so the messiness will continue. It is a good thing that I am happy swimming in chaos. My curriculum staffing map says: Mr/Mrs X or Y so I am currently staffing classes with chromosomes.

The highlight of this week was playing in a small football tournament and finishing second. A chap at work had arranged some games with some Spanish guys and some poles. The final was between England and England so we were very pleased, even though the man of the match was probably Qwan (an Uzbek chap) who we had in the winning side’s nets. He made some stops that were literally unbelievable. The atmosphere was great and we had a lot of fun followed by the usual curry and beers. It is a pleasant ritual and keeps the weeks ticking by.

This afternoon I am singing at the British Embassy again for children unfortunate enough to have to live with AIDS. This is no doubt an honourable and kind thing to do, but I do question our choice for the final song: ‘Fix You’ by Coldplay with lyrics such as, ‘When you get what you want but not what you need. A cure for AIDS! That’s what they need. When you couple this with ‘I will try and fix you’! Well, you see what I mean.

Now, the long slog. Whatever do I mean? The truth is, I am now casting my eyes ahead towards the summer and coming home but realise that I have twelve weeks of work ahead of me and only three days holiday in the middle. The good news is that the weather is heating up nicely and we have a few nice plans for trips in the coming weeks. Next weekend I head out to Termez, a place I am reliably informed is also full of history. With the slog ahead of me I also have the worry that Rachel will not get her operation in time for our trip away so as I count away the hours, I am ironically wishing for more. She must get it done before embarking on her journey to Tashkent and I have everything crossed for her. Sometimes, the guilt eats me up; being here when maybe I should be there, with her but I have to ‘press on’. We have taken too many risks to go back on things now. I’m here for the long slog and I know Rachel is too.

Little Earthquakes- 15-03-19

OK- so the title is stolen before anyone asks. Bless Tori Amos! You’ll see. So this week I had my first day off work. I woke up on Thursday morning, having slept in fits and starts. The highlight of the night being my first earthquake in Uzbekistan. It was around 2.30 in the morning and I was woken fairly emphatically by a rumbling and a groaning which continued for maybe fifteen seconds- the bed actually moved with me in it and my heart nearly stopped for a moment. I considered jumping underneath it in case the roof caved in and killed me- the ghost of the terrifying earthquake of 1966 being fairly well entrenched in my thoughts.

Thankfully the moment passed and fatigue took hold. I slept. In the morning, I had no energy and there were little earthquakes in my tummy- dodgy undercooked eggs! As I sat on the edge of the bed with my work shirt half on, bleary eyed and my stomach rumbling, that I was in no state to work with teenagers and so, I took the day off and rested.

Once I’d recovered I checked my emails and was hit with a beauty from the admin team who said that my landlady was disgusted with the condition of my flat (seemed overblown) so I spent the afternoon cleaning and tidying. It really wasn’t that bad but I wanted to avoid any more earthquakes and my landlady is a scary individual.

The week ended with international day and so I wore the traditional garb of the Uzbekistan gentleman, which entertained the children immensely. In truth, I was still weary and was elated to reach the end of the week. The highlight of which had been me watching ‘Afterlife’, the new Ricky Gervais comedy though this description doesn’t do it any justice. I thought it was superb and Ricky’s acting was great and very emotional. However, it set me rumbling again, thinking of home as the piece is about loss and separation, (albeit through death) of a couple. Everything gets me thinking about Rachel now. I have grown to love her more than I ever did and though I feel I have found myself again I really long for the day when she can shake my world up again and cause a little earthquake in my heart.

Now, I sit awaiting the arrival of my parents who I miss dearly. I have great hopes for the week and have planned everything in great detail. Short of a natural disaster, I’m sure we’ll be fine.

Sleep- 07-03-19

'Sleep- balm of hurt minds- chief nourisher in life's feast'

Or so it seems here in Tashkent. On Tuesday, Cameron and I headed off to play tennis at the local NBU outdoor complex. Requiring a snack, needing energy, before we tried to take on the personas of Nadal and Djokovic, we popped into a local shop to grab some chocolate. On entry, we looked around for some kind of custodian of the establishment, only to round a corner and find them fast asleep on the shop counter!

This is not the first time I have encountered this phenomenon here. In fact, I think that sleepiness is almost a disease in Uzbekistan and I want to understand the cause; to find an antidote. Sleepiness reigns on the markets at Chorzu, where sellers, perhaps tired of having no customers or simply catching up on some all night rave or something (possibly not!). Sleepiness reigns in the students who saunter to lessons like asthmatic snails and whose, and I hope this is not a comment on my lessons, heads droop like nodding dogs- sometimes I haven’t started speaking and some students eyelids are caught in a state of half closure. In this school some students actually drift off to sleep in assembly and even in exams; sleepiness reigns. Sleepiness reigns in the adults- with local staff lolling in the staffroom in their free periods, heads leant back…they’re sleeping.

I recently spoke to three young teachers who were leaving the school on a Friday night. I asked, “So, what are you youngsters up to tonight? Out clubbing, having fun?” I was being provocative. I knew the answer. “No, we are going home”, said one. “We have to sleep”, said a second. I laughed inwardly.

The thing is, I feel that this sense of sluggish inactivity; this disease, is spreading. Teachers from the UK or other western climbs, previously brimming full of energy are slowly flagging- needing their beds before nine and often claiming that they cannot possibly do anything in the week, if they have work. I myself have continued to burst with energy- apparently. This week alone, I have been to choir practice, played tennis, snooker and tonight we are doing five a side football. I have been to watch a drama showcase at school and I have found time for a few pints with friends whilst also teaching with hopefully, and I think the students would agree- enthusiasm and effort. So am I a superman…no! Of course not- but there is definitely something wrong here.

I just hope to not catch the disease. Uzbekistan, please, 'sleep no more'.

An Apology- 22-02-19

So here it is- my weekly blog.

I know, once again I have failed in my objective but technically I did write a long travel blog on Astana and I am halfway through my travel blog on Bishkek which I hope to publish this weekend.

It’s been super busy over the last few weeks and having finally survived the vicious onslaught (my hyperbole is on overdrive at the moment. I apologise) of reports and seemingly endless parents’ evenings I am beginning to feel more relaxed again.

Last night I returned from Bishkek- yet another country to add to the list of those visited. I enjoyed the trip and the company. I managed to slip slide my way up a mountain (not technically to the top) and enjoyed my first Soviet style banya (baths) experience- with lots of leaf slapping, rag scrubbing, cold water plunging, steaming and sauna sweating with many naked men. Strange experience but somehow relaxing.

It has been great to have a week off to be honest as the last term was a toughie- one of the toughest yet but with a three-week stint lying ahead- including a 4 day week and a visit from my parents, glowing splendidly on the horizon, the next month or so has a sense of hope and excitement about it.

To be honest, the only downside to the last week is the amount of drama. Not the good type. Friends falling out, relationships collapsing and even my wife ending up in hospital for several days. It is tough when you are so far way and you want to hug those you love, to hold them close and remind them that they are the most important thing in the world but you have to shake yourself down, trust in yourself, believe in what you are doing and push the bad air out. I’m getting good at that now.

It is hard to believe that it’s almost the end of February and outside the window of my apartment the sun is shining and the temperature rising- almost saying sorry for dumping the snow on us all in the last few days. I guess we’re all apologizing.

The Best Laid Plans- 26-01-19

 It was Burn’s night last night, though you wouldn’t know it. Scottish culture isn’t high on the agenda here. In fact, I have been out tonight with a Scot and even he didn’t know. Never mind!

Last week began well. I travelled to the edge of the city with my good friend Steve, to see Zangiyota mausoleum. It is a fascinating complex full of graves, with the typical miserable looking portraits of the deceased, plastered somewhat insensitively, on the gravestones. Alongside the graves were two ancient mausoleums and a modern, though striking minaret. It was surprisingly peaceful as we walked respectfully around the complex, considering the close proximity to the road. I found the moment quite spiritual and it was certainly much needed, with what was going to be a nightmare week ahead. The plan was that we would meet up with Steve’s friend, Ekaterina. And after some bizarre and slightly awkward texts between the two of them, she turned up, at the minaret and we took her round the complex, despite having already completed the circuit once.

The actual mausoleums were quite impressive and typically domed and azure. They were, however, in stark contrast to the pile of rubbish that was dumped at the back of the complex, just beyond the gravestones- what a sign of respect! After a quick visit inside the mosque, where we had our usual blessing (I’m becoming a bit of an expert here), we left and jumped on a bus that conveniently came by at exactly the right moment. The bus journeys are fascinating here. You get on and wait for, a usually surly chap, (it’s never a woman) to come along and take your 1200 soum (12 pence). You then simply stay on as long as you like. Fortunately, there is no way one could miss their stop as the suspension on these buses is almost none existent and the beast creaks and groans like a prehistoric dinosaur. As the bus drops into pothole after pothole your spine begins to rattle and grimacing becomes the most common facial expression, though not for the locals. They seem unaffected- maybe their spines are made of rubber.

After several beers that evening, and an increasingly typically tough hard-working Sunday of planning, marking and general organising of the clutter and paraphernalia in my flat, I had a stressful week to look forward to. Pupils were sitting their exams and this meant the dreaded MARKING and of course the mind-numbing tedium of exam invigilation, something I haven’t done for years. The plan was to go out most nights and mark so that I could have company with other equally sad and over-worked teachers whilst also pretending to be enjoying myself. This was moderately successful and by the end of the week I had marked two sets of exams and had only school reports to bring the mood down.

On Thursday Rach had her interview and the next phase of our plan for a new life was smiling at us from beyond a stressful trip to London. Fortunately, she managed to secure the job and I drank too many vodkas with my friend Cameron in celebration. I was elated and so proud of her.

In truth, this last two weeks have been the hardest since I’ve been here- not emotionally but in terms of pure fatigue. That said, I arranged a game of tennis on Thursday, at the complex, still played football on Friday and today, visited Sheikhantaur- the mausoleum built by Amir Temur in the 15th century. Despite being close to the road, and thereby disturbed by the sound of traffic, I have to say that I felt at peace here, next to the mausoleum of Sheik Havendi Takhur. The sun helped too as it was strikingly warm for a January day and after a long inspection of the modest, though beautiful site, Steve and I left for beers (the cheapest ones yet at 3500 soum (31 pence).

My plan therefore is not to allow work to dominate or dictate life to me- I have been there too often and so far, despite the rearing of its ugly head, I have managed to bash work back down and send it into its grubby little hole. Robbie Burns said, ‘The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley (often go awry). Over my dead body. “Barman, get me a whisky!”

All the Time in the World- 13-01-19

When you live on your own…no-one demanding anything from you and no one else to consider, you certainly expect to have lots of time. Time for self-contemplation, massage, a gentle read… However, since returning to Tashkent I seem to have been ‘mad busy’, all the time, simply surviving day to day!

It wasn’t as difficult to return here as I thought. Perhaps the hardest part was seeing Rachel’s face, knowing she was going to lose for me for six months. It was an expression of loss, not quite bereavement but something close. It hurt. It really hurt. However, as with all feelings, they are often transient and my mind was soon on the job of surviving the two- plane journey back to the capital of Uzbekistan. I had never caught a connecting flight (though I am not sure ‘çaught’ Is the correct word at all). It was quite some journey and very tiring but I found myself strangely fascinated by the ‘alien’ game on the plane which I repeated far more times than I expected to. I began to see how gamers can become addicted though this game was as basic as ‘Hungry Horace’ on the ZX Spectrum. I realized, it’s not graphics that make games: it is the simplicity of task and the annoying way that you can continually improve each time you play, yet never find a state of satisfaction. The game is a metaphor for life I think- we are all on a journey of self-enlightenment or a quest to reach something better, something perfect and we keep playing the game, never getting to where we are aiming for.

Still, it kept me busy for a few hours.

Before long, we were waiting by the baggage carousel awaiting our luggage and looking forward to getting back into Tashkent life. It was strange returning to the flat and seeing my friend Richard who was waiting at my ‘digs’. His dad had stayed there over the hols and my heart was warmed when I saw he had tidied to a level beyond anything I had ever achieved. Thanks Richard! It took no time at all to realise that I was happy here in Tashkent as seeing friends again and going out with them to discuss the holidays and our experiences was great and just what we all needed. I, as usual, avoided common sense and whilst sitting in the palms of jetlag, I decided not to rest but to party on and after two further late nights and lots of beer I was more tired than I think I’ve ever been. It wasn’t the ideal first day back.

This week has been tough. Reports suddenly loomed out of the bushes like a cruel taunting creature destroying anyone’s ideas of a fresh start and ‘new year plans’ of self-betterment. So, followed several late nights in the coffee hub with friends writing endless reports. This was a shock to me. I hadn’t written reports in the UK for years and I suddenly realized that not everything is rosier here. I had made plans in my head to start swimming, set up an acting group uniting Uzbeks and Expats and here I was swamped with work. It hasn’t gone away to tell the truth and we have mocks, more reports and 3 back to back parents’ evenings in store over the next few weeks. You have to grin and bear it.

The change of pace was the biggest shock, as I had relaxed a lot in the UK (though highly social of course). New Year was great fun and it was fab to share it with my nieces, my sister and Alan, my brother in law. In time-honored tradition we drank a lot but it was great to go out for new Year; something I haven’t done in ages.

Having been up to my neck in work (yes, I know- a bit of a martyr- boo hoo and all that!) I have done little else though I have been amused by some interesting cultural differences that I hadn’t spot before Christmas. Smoking for instance is rife here-not as ubiquitous as Romania or France- but nonetheless, there is a lot of it. However, what is humorous is that vaping is banned in bars and pubs- so I was told by one of my top set students in Year 10. I was also bemused this evening whilst walking out to drop my rubbish in the skip at the end of the road, to find maybe ten or twelve guys sitting behind a corner shop blowing into their hands to keep warm and waiting for their Shashlik to cook which was on a makeshift barbecue perched on the floor. Not something you would see in England on a street in a town. Even some campsites have an issue with this in the UK. And so, I continue to experience new things.

So- time. All the time in the world? It doesn’t feel like it at the moment. It feels like I am waiting to start something new and exciting; some better routines; new challenges but actually all I’m doing is working. The bubble hasn’t burst but it’s stretching out and I can definitely feel a ‘pop’ on the horizon. Wish me luck!

Back in the Arms of Blighty 26-12-18

I am sitting on Boxing day, heartily well fed and watered and watching an inspiring, if somewhat futuristic report, on cancer research: two Cambridge researchers as avatars strolling thoughtfully around a giant tumour made up of colourful blobs. I do hope they’ll be successful.

On the subject of successes, I am pleased to report that my trip back to England has been nothing but. However, the trip back wasn’t the easiest, I confess. On leaving the apartment, myself and a few friends who were going to see me off, were stopped by the taxi and told there was a problem. I never quite worked out what the problem was but, the first officer lingered over my passport for some time, like a vampire caressing a certain victim. He then offered the same passport to a colleague who also played with it for a while and we stood awkwardly awaiting the result of this seemingly almost erotic ritual. A third officer arrived, and the dirty document was passed to him to rub his grubby little fingers all over. Having played dumb for some time, Emily, who speaks fluent Russian, decided to let them know this and questioned them on what the issue was. They said there was a ‘big problem’ and there might be ‘big fines.’ I was becoming concerned and made the point that I was expecting to catch a plane. After some more apparently essential posturing, I was allowed to leave, and my abused passport was returned to its owner safely. I later learnt that they had accused my friend of prostitution and that my other friends were apparently, her nefarious clients. Thankfully, they eventually let them go (so I later found out at the airport) without taking all their money, but it was a hair-raising moment to say the least.

The journey back involved two planes and a surprisingly quick taxi drive from Manchester to Chesterfield. I slept most of the way to Istanbul but the second plane journey felt like an age. When I finally stepped out of the car and walked up to my door, I confess to having an almost out of body experience: I recognised the place and had memories of it, but it was almost as if those memories were someone else’s. It is an extremely hard thing to describe and I am not doing a good job here. Suffice it to say that it took some adjusting too. It was wonderful to hug Rach again and to witness Hattie (my dog’s) ecstatic confusion. And after a few moments I felt as though I was firmly established back in my own body. Then, the joy began.

The great thing about being back is how amazing the simple things feel. I, inevitably, ended up in the Chesterfield Arms within minutes of being back; the old girl welcomed me into her arms as if I had never left. The beer, a dark 6 percent beauty that I embarrassingly cannot remember the name of was gorgeous; almost as if from another planet as far as I was concerned. Later that night I went to a fondue evening at David’s where I managed to catch up with many of my theatre friends. The food was divine and to taste good cheese again was delightful. I always love this time of year and I love being around people, drinking, eating and being merry but the sensations and the simple aspects are so heightened when you have been away and this, if nothing else, has made the trip away worthwhile.

Christmas itself was a quiet affair at Pete’s, Rachel’s father in law. We ate nice food and I enjoyed my first ever veggie Christmas (recipes will be under my Cooking stories section). Pete seems well enough and it’s great to catch up with Pip, and sit in front of a roaring fire.

The rest of the period will be a little louder I’m sure with a trip to my parents looming, the imminent arrival of my son’s friends and of course, the return of my beautiful daughter and her ‘top bloke’ of a boyfriend. There is nothing like family. Nothing. You must treasure them, love them and enjoy every minute. I always knew this to be a truth, but my time in Tashkent has only served to make these feelings and bonds all the stronger.

Have a great New Year everyone! 

Narcissim 20-12-18

The red wine slips down so easy tonight and it’s not bad actually! I have managed to discover a new one called Golden Valley which my friend Mairi put me on to. Much as I hate to admit it, she is right: it is better than Bagizagan Merlot. I have extra special reason for the wine tonight (not that I normally search for one) as tomorrow is my last day at school this term and I don’t even have to teach. I am free period one and then we are manning a stall at the winter fayre. We finish at 11.30am. Result!

I am feeling a real sense of warmth. Outside, the snow lies on the ground and there is certainly every chance of a white Christmas in Uzbekistan but as I lie on my bed, my belly full of the tommie and olive pasta dish I have just scoffed, I feel proud. Proud of what I have done in my first term here at BST Tashkent.

Only a few months ago, I was suffering from anxiety, something I never thought I would feel in my life and I certainly lived in denial, with friends and family around me suffering because of this denial and yet I truly believe I have rediscovered the real me again. And so, this instalment of my weekly (yeah, right!) blog is going to be crammed full of schmaltz and self loving- I would apologise but I’m not sorry.

Yesterday, I played Santa for the youngsters at out Sayram campus and though I have done this several times before, I never thought I’d be doing this in Uzbekistan. It was delightful; truly. Usually, being Santa is hard work but seeing the little kids’ faces and their genuine excitement was magical. There were a few nervy moments like when one kid asked to see my sleigh,’ It’s invisible,” I said. He bought it; or little Umar, who took the present I gave him and then gave it me back saying he didn’t want it. “It’ll turn into something wonderful later”, I said. Thank small mercies for the gullible nature of tiny children. When I sat in the Indian restaurant last night with my colleagues telling me that the kids really thought I was Santa and that I had been really good, I felt a pride that was probably a little too much for the level of achievement.

I began to think of the things I have done here and imagined what I might have done had I stayed in Chesterfield for the last four months: walked Hattie a few times, visited a few pubs, some marking, planning and that’s probably about it. Yet here, I have visited the great silk road city of Samarkand (twice); walked through the wonderful bazaars and old Town of Tashkent; lost myself in the mountains near Charvak and travelled on an incredibly rickety train. I have learnt a fair bit of Russian, revived my love of cornet playing, football and reading as well as met many fascinating and wonderful people and new friends. I have sung for the British ambassador and his friends, been to an Uzbek opera and rock concert as well as begun to direct ‘Beauty and the Beast’ with children who speak three languages. There, of course is more and I haven’t mentioned yet the amazing relationships I have already started to make with the wonderful young people at the British School. O.K., sorry (so I did apologise after all) I am going to…

One kid today said to me ‘Please let me be in your set after Christmas’ and another, “But we love you Mr Weston”. One was almost begging and another in Year 8 paid me the following compliment: “You’re the only teacher who understands us”. Like I said, self-loving blog today but all truthful.

I guess I feel really positive. I am going home to see family so soon and can’t wait to hold Rachel close to me again. This experience has changed me, restored my confidence and made me start to believe again. For those out there, who have felt anxiety, it isn’t forever. Listen to the positives and sometimes list them, remind yourself what a good person you are and what a great job you are doing because you almost certainly will be and if not, it won’t be all your fault. I guess you need to listen to your ‘confidence’ not your ‘paranoia’. Right now, that’s what I’m doing. 

Not Quite Hedonism! 16-12-18

I must cut a ludicrous figure right now as I sit at the laptop in my apartment stark naked. The air con blaring in the background and outside, though a bright day, it is crisp and cold. The controlling ex-soviet elements of life in Uzbekistan is frustrating sometimes. Whilst the UK and other nations put measures into place to reduce energy consumption, in the flats of Tashkent, the heating is at full blast and we, the victims, cannot control its oppression unless we turn on the air con- thereby doubling the energy consumption. It is quite simply, ridiculous.

Sorry to start on a negative this week as I am, in truth, feeling great. It has been a mad couple of weeks, not entirely hedonistic but I have certainly had some good times. Last weekend, Steve, Mark and I braved another history walk. We met at the Kukeldash Mosque outside Chorzu bazaar. It survived the earthquake and is 16th century so is quite a spectacle and very attractive, though I must confess that a lot of work was done to it in the 1990s. We walked alongside it for a while and Mark collected a little bit of tile that had fallen off the wall. He has some bizarre artefacts from over the years and we joked how he should start his own museum. He even has part of the train (no idea which part) that lies rusting in the desert in Jordan- the one that was in the film ‘Lawrence of Arabia’.

We walked through the labyrinth of the old town which I had not done until now and it was in stark contrast to the modern cosmopolitan city that is growing everyday. Here cars move their way gingerly through sandy, dry streets and kids ride bikes next to giant gas canisters that are concreted into the road. It is a curious place and we often found ourselves walking into dead ends. Eventually we made our way out of the poorest areas and found ourselves in a beautiful square with more 16th century buildings including a beautiful mausoleum and the stunning Teleshayakh Mosque. We lingered here for a while and took in the majesty of it all before heading for a beer at The Old City Pub. We thought it was a short walk away but ended up being a couple of miles and as I was nursing a football injury and a mild hangover, it took some resilience to stick it out. When we finally sat down for beers it was very pleasant indeed and the first pint slipped down far too easily.

Last night was the staff Christmas do- hosted at a wonderful, posh restaurant that served incredible food, with hummus, gorgeous warm bread, samsa, sousma (a kind of cream cheese) and the highlight for me, some sweet chilli aubergine (without doubt the finest aubergines I have ever tried). We also had live entertainment with a local band, a singer who wasn’t bad (though he murdered ‘Yesterday’ by the Beatles) and best of all, the stunning dancers- quite simply breath-taking- wow! Drink flowed all night with fine wine, beer and even vodka. The waiters just kept topping our glasses up without even asking and it was free! This would never happen in England. I was told that the venue was where the president often entertains visitors and that even Putin had been there. I looked around to make sure the land was safe once I heard that one but no-one looked like a Russian agent except for our very own Head of HR…Ruslan. I’m still not sure about him.

The week has been full of partying it has to be said. Last weekend we had a Christmas do at Mairi’s with full Christmas roast and beautiful nut roast for the veggies (me). Mairi made a stunning carrot cake and we had mince pies. It was thoroughly festive and we had Christmas music and good wine. I slept at Mairi’s which meat I could relax and the whole evening was fun and put my mind to thinking a lot about coming home. I am excited beyond belief but recently started worrying a little about returning to Tashkent after coming home. It might be hard to bear. On Wednesday I performed in the Tashkent community choir at the British Ambassador’s house. It was once again a night of fun, with yet more mince pies and Bordeaux. The singing went down really well and blasting out the carols was another great festive experience. Chatting to a few other expats, many of whom weren’t teachers I began to think whether I could set up an Am Dram group for expats across Tashkent but then I thought maybe it would be a good linking project where expats and locals came together to put on a play. It is certainly a musing that will bounce around in my noggin’ for a while. I think it would be a good new year project.

After the singing and the do we went to a local Turkish restaurant. I didn’t eat but it was good company and fascinating to watch the local Turkish element of society, sat around smoking and playing some form of dominoes but not one I recognised. Their faces when we walked in were paintings of bemusement…utter disbelief. I love going into places such, where locals just don’t expect us. There aren’t many places like this in Tashkent but when it happens, ‘it’s prize’.

So…only a few days now until more seasonal fun but this time back in good old blighty. It is almost more excitement than I can take. Next week, I am to revisit my role as Santa for early year’s students. I honestly thought I’d finished with that malarkey after doing grottos for the last few years but this place keeps throwing up surprises. 

Christmas Spirit? 02/12/18

Rachel sent me a photo of our Christmas tree today- looking sophisticated and classy as always. I looked at it with the inevitable mixed emotions that have inhabited my mind for much of my time here in Uzbekistan. I don’t feel any sense of Christmas here- which in some ways has been a relief. I have been able to go into shops, walk through the bazaars without my ears being assaulted with seemingly immortal 70s and 80s pop songs that weren’t very good when they were first released, never mind now!

Uzbekistan is a muslim country, albeit a very liberal one. There is no concept of Christmas except for a few bells and a couple of mini Christmas trees made out of plastic that I noticed on a high shelf in Korzinka. Nevertheless, I do miss home now. I really do. It isn’t daily or even occupying my every thought but I think Christmas or the thought of seeing the family has help to manifest a longing in the bottom of my stomach that is there all the time, like a nagging ache. It isn’t disabling in any way but it is always there.

Thankfully, the last 2 weeks have been perhaps the busiest 2 weeks so far and I have had very little personal free time (hence the tardiness with the blog). Last week I met my year 10 and 11 parents. It was lovely, quite simply. The parents were immensely grateful for the work I had done with their youngsters and several said how they felt more comfortable talking to me than any other teacher. Not bad in 3 and a half months. What was particularly nice (I know it’s a poor adjective), was how several of my students had a sparkle in their eye; a sparkle of excitement and expectation of success. After considering a move to Cairo for the whole of the previous week, it did make me realise how much these kids had already invested in me. Loyalty is a natural state for me and I find it hard to be ruthless- so if and when I have to leave these youngsters, it will hurt.

I sent Rachel’s CV to Egypt last week and also gave it to Adrian. Getting her a job is vital for us financially but more importantly for Rachel’s mental well-being. Cairo said no! Adrian said Rachel will have to apply for a new job he has created. I am hopeful that she will get it and that she will enjoy her first international experience. I don’t know how long this will last but I want to do this with the woman I love and nothing will feel right until then I suppose.

Yesterday, after a week of two parents’ evenings and a school show rehearsal, I found myself in work on a Saturday doing a BLS (Basic Life Skills) course involving CPR and including saving infants, children and adults. It was actually good fun though slightly scary- we had a test at the end and then a practical exam in front of the whole group. Nerve jangling- but thankfully, I passed. However, perhaps the most horrifying moment was when we returned from lunch to see our armless, legless mannequins replaced with grotesque real size mannequins of babies- like Chucky had somehow found a way to mate- which in itself gives rise to a number of dreadful considerations. Some of our group found it comical and took photos with the dolls of hell whilst others stared wide eyed, took a breath and sat down. As with most issues, time was a healer and we were soon trying to bring these dolls to life through CPR- thank the lord we failed! It would have been shocking indeed but somehow not entirely unexpected if one of them had begun crying. I was concerned by the token brown doll (there in the spirit of equality of course) which was one of 8; thereby reinforcing minority group status but worse still, it’s appearance: malnourished, emaciated even, wearing a rag around its waste and its face full of anguish and suffering. This doll was in stark contrast to the Caucasian ones who were all well fed and, though freakish as the midwich cuckoos; not at all pitiful.

I have 3 weeks left now and a few nice moments to look forward to. The Christmas fayre is approaching and I have a stall and of course, I am singing in the choir at the British Ambassador’s Christmas party. This should be fun and might finally get me in the Christmas spirit.

Here we go again! 18-11-18

 I sit at the desk like some very unconvincing Simon Cowell with my fellow judges next to me, as nervous and excited youngsters fill in and present their singing and acting skills (not inconsiderable it has to be said). I smile (very unlike Simon) and encourage them of course and then suddenly realise that I am back doing what I love and that no matter where I am or what is going on, I am brought back to performance.

Last week we watched around 40 students audition for roles in our upcoming production, ‘Beauty and the Beast’. This is not a show I knew at all so there has been quite a lot of frantic reading, watching and furtive singing (Be Our Guest is just totally addictive.) When I left Chesterfield I was very upset about leaving Hasland theatre. At that wonderful place I met people who I will respect and like for the rest of my life. I knew that coming to teach English might take me away from my love of theatre and I genuinely thought I could do with the break from directing but as I saw these hopefuls try their best and the fire in their eyes I realized that school shows are still the best thing in the world.

For most of today, however, I have been putting in the necessary hard graft to put the show together and later we have a meeting with the staff team at Mairi’s house. Meetings, of course are so much better with wine so it’ll be a trip to pick up some Bagizagan before I go. The problem about putting a show on here in Uzbekistan is getting kids to rehearsals and not upsetting their drivers because as with all kids, they don’t tend to let their parents know what is happening.

The weather here is still very fluctuating, with snow earlier in the week and -3 conditions before returning to 18 degrees, 2 days later. I hope for more consistency this week but now I have my trusty fleece, I think I should be all right. I see the light of Christmas approaching quickly at the moment and am rarely down. Evenings have continued to be busy and last night I was able to win a pool tournament so that was fun; with me being top of the football predictions league at the moment too and with everything coming in 3s, so they say, I am forced to wonder what on earth success number 3 might be. It could be fun finding out.

Wading Through Treacle- 08-11-18

Ok...I get it! Weekly diary? Blather, blather blather. 

So much has happened in the last few weeks and I seem to have found little time to do much but write poetry! This is not a new phenomenon. It's not EVEN a phenomenon but whenever I get a little lost I resort to prententious poetry. I don't plan any of this really but somehow it just happens like I don't know, erm, puberty or growing hair out of your ears. And so here I am, in Tashkent, writing several poems a week.

That is not to say I haven't been up to other antics. The big story being Georgia's visit three weeks ago. The wait at the airport for her to arrive was painful as the plane landed and it took over an hour for her to finally emerge into the sunshine of Tashkent. It was wonderful and certainly my best day since being here. 

After a quick coffee at E-Corn we headed off on a hair raising four hour car journey to Samarkand. I wanted to show Georgia the fabulous medressas and the history that is prevalent there and so we did. The time spent there was magical. We saw all the sights and the splendour with very little concern though I did experience my first 'dodgy copper'. The ticket office at the medressa was closed and I walked over to one of the all too familiar little green men to ask why and he asked me to pay him. I did this quite boldly and with no hint of discretion only for him to 'shush' me quite dramatically before anxiously looking around to see if anyone had noticed. I spoke quieter and played the game; handing over the money as if I was part of some clandestine drugs cartel. I was a little concerned when a few moments later (when we were inside) another little green man asked me for my ticket. I, of course, had not been given one. I thought we were going to be ripped off twice but I told him I had paid the officer and after a wave of a hand from the original criminal, he left me alone. I breathed a sigh of relief.

As Georgia is vegan, eating out was a struggle in Samarkand where beyond samza, shashlik and lagman there is little else even for the meat eaters. We couldn't eat any of this so settled for water melon which was stunningly refreshing despite looking somewhat anaemic. What was great though was how we ate all week: getting organised, buying fresh ingredients and packing our backs with delghtful goodness. You can eat vegan here easily; just don't eat out! 

After a few days in Samarkand we returned to Tashkent and I was able to show Georgia the parks (though most were closed or being refurbished) and a little of the history of the place; the highlight being a trip to the Weeping Mother that I mentioned in a previous blog.

It was great to get connected again with my world in the UK and I hope Georgia her time here. When she left to get her plane afer a week, I wept more than I have for some time. It was a strange feeling: not sadness but more of pride for who she is and regret for not being able to see her more often. Thankfully, I was able to meet Richard (a friend) down the irish pub for some comfort beer (a dark one which is still fizzy but closer to proper ale). 

The last 2 weeks have been all about getting back into a work routine which wasn't easy at first and at times has felt like wading through treacle. Plans are there but pupils are not always getting it and I am trying to 'jazz' up my lessons. Sometimes though there is little time to do so and I have found the balance of socialising with work to be a little tougher since we went back.

I have managed to get into better routines with my cleaning and washing which is good and I had a delightful weekend last week walking down the canal with Emily and then cooking autumnal soup for her and Richard in the evening. It was grat to have some excellent company and Richard is the guru of quotation; leaving me a little flabbergasted at times with his knowledge.

I also watched a great football game this week at the national stadium where Bundyukor drew 2v2 with Lokomotiv- one of the goals was an absolute screamer from 30 yards- not a bad night out for 45pence. Another highlight was the night at Craig and Gillian's. We had plenty of beers, watched footy and rugby and then sampled some of Craig's fabulous whisky (a little too much to be honest). It was great and made a change from the vodka.

I guess everything feels real out here now and that I finally belong but with that sense of settling comes some harsh realities about life- work is work!!! Don't get me wrong; it is easier in many ways but fitting everything in is still tough and you still cannot help but think about the countdown to Christmas.

I hope to get on top of things again this weekend- wading through treacle is sweet enough but it can feel a little slow going at times.

Wonky Tashkent 2- The Sequel- 13-10-18

We left the mosque in search of the TV tower, one of the tallest buildings in central asia with its antennae reaching 375 metres into the air though of course the top floor is considerably lower down. The journey to the tower was as wonky as they come. As is often the case with tall buildings, you often feel like you are close to them and yet there still seems an awfully long way to go, to get there. In wonky Tashkent however, this is exacerbated. We walked, then puffed and panted, staggered and finally almost hobbled our way around the tower in what seemed to be never ending concentric circles.

At one point we began to panic as there began what I can only describe as a ‘whistle off’ between lots of the little green men. It began with a precariously positioned officer spinning his lightsaber round like Darth Maul and blowing harshly on his whistle at the same time. Drivers looked nothing short of bemused and we stood still to witness this wonky spectacle. Then began the second whistle, about 50 yards from the first man and then a third, a fourth and before long it was a cacophony of whistles like the state had flown in shepherds on mass and dumped them into the middle of the city. I thought at first they were only herding cars but then an officer started shouting at pedestrians and gesticulating with wild and bold gestures that no-one seemed to understand. We initially adopted the freeze response and just ignored everything without moving a muscle. Then we decided to head on up the road. Here we were faced with a line of little green men, one standing every 100 yards each armed with whistle and lightsaber. No- one stopped us but we were the only people walking down the street and cars had been blocked off so it was all very odd and for a while it felt like we had our own armed guard ushering us to the tower. Emily asked an officer what was happening but he declined honesty saying ‘Éverything is normal’. We saw no accidents, no terrorists, no presidents (they close the road daily for him) but eventually we got to within stone throwing distance of the TV tower; only to find ourselves looking into what looked like some kind of health club mixed with a KGB prisoner holding facility. Like most places, there were fences and harsh security but then we watched with wonder as several ladies walked past us in gym gear and after a quick chat with reception were granted access. We asked if we could go through but as is often the case were faced with an abrupt and all too predictable, ‘Nyet!’, before arm movements explained that we had to continue our now seemingly never-ending walk around the tower.

On arrival at the tower, we took a collective breath in and step into the reception area. At first all went well; the lady behind the counter even appeared to have a sense of humour and was enjoying trying her English. We discovered that, as usual, foreigners were charged more than locals (got to love the casual racism). Feeling a little bit miffed (we do work here), we explained that we worked at the British School; they wanted to see proof! The lady even called us a liar! She asked me if I had a security badge or lanyard- “Nyet!”, I said (justice!) “Do you wear your identity when you are not at work?” I asked. She said of course she didn’t but then said that I should at all times. The mood had changed and I sensed we weren’t far from a cocked gun and a barrel pointing at my head. We agreed to pay the bigger price but were then asked for proof of identity- passport, (driving license was not enough). We didn’t have the appropriate identity so even though we put the money on the table, we were met with an all too familiar and completely wonky, “Nyet!” I asked what they thought we would do and that we only wanted to enjoy and celebrate their culture. My response…stone. And that alone.

We left incredulous.

The rest of the night was spent partying until about 2.40am in Navat- a sort of open all hours bar, come dancing, come karaoke type place that also serves excellent food. I left quite drunk and walked wonkily home. It had been a really entertaining day.

Wonky Tashkent- 13/10/18- Episode 1 (two instalments on this one folks)

This place is odd, bizarre (that’s not a typing error) queer, strange, unique… Well, you get the idea but it really is difficult to over emphasise, even for me. Yesterday, I enjoyed a historical walk with Mark and Emily. Mark is the History teacher here and a fascinating guy. I had become a little bored with the repetitive partying and similar experiences so I asked Mark if he would introduce me to some of the sites of Tashkent and what a day it turned out to be. Mark has been walking these streets for over a year and I think he was more than happy to have someone to show around. Emily came along too which was great because she is fantastic company and always a joy to be around.

Mark and I met initially outside the ‘Costa del Sol’ style Hotel Uzbekistan- it looks great at night when lit up but in the day, it is certainly no ‘oil painting’. The juxtaposition of this eyesore with the main town hall/theatre is striking and comical. This building is bright white with some delusions of grandeur, harsh and severe with its architectural lines but with a glamorous dome and, I think, 2 giant herons or possibly pelicans on the roof. It really is an odd structure but certainly more appealing than the hotel that is stands next to. The day was comical from the outset as we first witnessed a man standing on the domed roof, perhaps 150 feet high maybe 200, sweeping up. What was perhaps most comical apart from the casual way that he appeared to risk life and limb was the sense of perspective he was able to offer us. The aforementioned birds, apparently symbols of good luck towered above him as he approached like they were monsters in some Japanese disaster film. They must have been twenty five feet high. My fingers were crossed for the poor man. I hope he was being paid danger money.

From here we walked to the centre of Amir Temur square to look at the statue of Temur himself, sitting proudly astride his horse. It was here that Mark explained to me how some years ago, the horse’s penis had been pulled off (sorry about the expression) and taken, perhaps as some sort of rebellious protest. I wonder whether it was just some ‘pissed up’ students who were having a laugh. The comical notion that in someone’s drawer (and it would have to be a big one), somewhere in Tashkent, there is a massive brass horse willy lying around, set the tone for what was going to become a wonderful walk through wonky Tashkent.

Mark took me on a bizarre stroll through what is locally known as Broadway though there are no theatres to speak of and little else save some flashing lights that might link the place to such glitz and glamour though Mark informed me that there was once a Mike Tyson Punching game which has recently been removed. Like I said…wonky! We took a right down a broad pedestrian zone where there were hundreds, very probably thousands of paintings displayed for sale of varying quality, some depicting scenes of Samarkand, Khiva and of course Bukhara whilst others were impressionistic daubs of fruit and vegetables (pomegranates being omnipresent here). Mark exchanged pleasantries with a geezer selling his trinkets; wedged in between the paintings. The seller smiled a lot, displaying a good range of glistening golden teeth but what shocked me more was the range of objects he had somehow acquired: an old English penny, second world war gas masks, flags from diverse nations from various times it must be said were laid out against more familiar busts of Lenin. After a chat we left empty handed but the seller seemed to have enjoyed the chat as much as us.

Next stop, a palace! Nestled awkwardly amongst the concrete blocks and opposite what seems to be a gated embassy of some description is a very, very Russian looking palace, with a hint of Romania’s Bran Castle (also worth a visit). It is not a massive place and with its dull greys and browns could not really be described as beautiful but some of the sculpture work and the roof in particular with its ornate spikes, really impressed me. The place was owned by one of the Romanovs who was expelled from Russia. Like many places here, it was gated. This meant that we could not get close to the building and could only spy through the bars. It is a shame here but they don’t seem to want you to enjoy the history or the culture. This prompted a discussion about whether this was because they were overly protective and whether Stalinist Russia was still present in Uzbekistan’s culture or whether they aren’t actually that proud of what they have. Either way, it is often difficult to enjoy things here in wonky Tashkent.

We met Emily for coffee and then walked over to another memorial. This time it was a thirty-foot bronze statue like something out of ‘Jason and the Argonauts’. It symbolizes the struggle and the strength of the people in the wake of the terrible earthquake of 1966- which pretty much levelled the city. The locals say we are due another. I hope serendipity is on my side for the next couple of years at least. The statue itself depicts a muscular man standing in front of a frail woman, holding a baby. Even in their sculptures they manage to confidently reinforce gender stereotypes and subtly keep women in their place (it can get uncomfortable sometimes). The memorial is stunning however with a crack, running from the statue to a concrete block which is said to be the epi-centre of the earthquake. Behind the statue brass carvings depict the struggle to rebuild the city after the earthquake followed by an unrecognizable utopian world where people carry grapes on their heads and eat, half naked, whilst lolling about. It is artistic license of course but as I looked around the streets, I saw little evidence of the place they seemed to be presenting.

Behind the memorial, there is a slope that drops down to the river. We walked along this for a while before passing the german embassy (a tiny little place). We tried to get back up to the road but were ushered back to where we came from by one of the little green men and after a kilometre and a half or so we arrived at Minor Mosque (built in 2014). Despite its modernity it is a delightful place set against the river and with beautiful fountains outside the main entrance. The inner courtyard is plain but pleasant and the whole construction is based around a similar structure to the medressas of Samarkand. Mark and I asked if we could enter and after removing our shoes walked inside where people were praying. Emily, being a woman, had to enter via a different entrance. The dome inside was quite spectacular but after a few minutes we decided to leave.

To be continued...

The Heavens Open...07/10/18

It is 3 minutes to six on this chilly October night and for the first time since I have been here I have been presented with something completely familiar. What is strange is the suddenness of the assault. Yesterday, the sun beamed twenty-nine-degree heat down upon us for the majority of the afternoon but today, a minor apocalypse. OK, you know my tendency to hyperbole. I walked out of my apartment this morning in my Ted Baker t-shirt (thanks Godber) fully expecting to be hit square in the face by the now all too familiar heat but was instead greeted with torrents of water reigning down from above. For a moment, I smiled. It was nice, pleasant, a change and suddenly a part of me felt I was in England again. It was then that I realized I had a half mile walk to the metro station at Kosmontvlar (it means Cosmonaut). Did I go back up the stairs, open the apartment and grab my raincoat? And yes I do have one. Did I reconsider the trip and wait for the rain to cease? No, I did what every decent Englishman would do: gritted my teeth and stepped right out into it. It was actually very refreshing but it was comical to see the expressions on the faces of the locals as I passed. I already stand out with my pale skin and odd dress sense (I am the only male who wears pink) but I must have looked ludicrous to them as I strode through the rain, whistling (yes, I was showing off I suppose) Vaughan Williams.

After negotiating my way around the metro system and only getting on the wrong train once, I managed to find Samarqand Davoza (it’s a shopping mall). The plan was to use my Uzcard to take some money out- something you have only recently been able to do. However, on arrival I realized this was going to be extremely challenging. The grey cash machine that I would need to use was surrounded by at least sixty people, all trying to do the same as me, I suppose. The moment was similar to the chaos at the Samarqand football ground (mentioned in one of my travel blogs) as hordes of people resembling extras from a zombie movie, surrounded and malled at the machine. I consider throwing myself into throng, showing what a strong and powerful man I could be but ultimately, I wimped out. I slinked off to the upstairs café and ate white chocolate cake. It was very comforting and gave me a chance to dry out a little.

On leaving the mall, I looked again at the forlorn cash machine, standing in the corner having withstood heaven knows what abuse throughout the day but the brutality was not over and the number of desperate extras was in no way reduced. I gave up and left. The rain had stopped but the streets were awash with water, half a foot in place on the major roads. I couldn’t understand how this had happened. There are huge valleys cut out at the side of every road and yet the water still sat happily on the surface of the main highways. It seemed to defy science. I decided I would grab a taxi.

I am not sure whether it was the weather that had given me my new-found confidence but I had my first row with a driver today (well, more of a tete a tete I suppose). Having dropped me back at Kosmontvlar he asks for 15000 som (it should have been 6 at most!.) In fairness, it is the difference between 1 pound 50p and 60 pence but what annoyed me was the expectation that I wouldn’t know the difference; the assumption that because I don’t have the language down, that I must have no idea what I am talking about and so deserved to be ripped off. I laughed at him. He became annoyed. ‘Nyet’, I said, ‘Shest’(six). He laughed and became a little irate. After a strange exchange where I mixed broken Russian with colloquial English and where he drifted into his native Uzbek, we agreed on nine. I was happy. I was becoming a local.

There are only 2 weeks to go until Georgia arrives and today I wrote out an itinery for the visit. I want this weekend to come now and in truth, I need it; some connection with family is definitely required. The rains won’t worry my daughter or me. The sun always shines when Georgia is in town and I know we will have a little piece of heaven that week. Tick tock, tick tock. 

The Little Green Men are Taking Over! 26-09-18

Tashkent has an army: not of soldiers but of little men in green uniforms. They are in fact police officers in tight trousers, a green tunic and of course a cute green hat. There is a sense of the Russian harshness about these characters as if perhaps they might all be members of the KGB but their fat bellies and lazy gait suggest otherwise. Last week I was lucky enough to watch two Premier league Uzbekistan games. In truth, the matches were average at best, but what amazed me more than anything else was the pure number of police officers- like a convention of straight faced, ever so serious leprechauns. I peered with interest around the crowd at the first game, Pactakor (the league leaders) vs some team I cannot even pronounce, never mind write the name of; I then glanced at the crowds of little green men, there for our safety as they are all over the city of Tashkent and I thought to myself, ‘why are there more police officers than supporters?’  This was rapidly followed by a massive jealousy. These men, some sitting in groups of thirty or forty with not a supporter in sight spent most of their shift, smoking, laughing, chatting, texting and sometimes, just sometimes…watching the football... What a life! A green army, completely redundant of tasks to do. If a man to man fight had broken out between the officers and the supporters then the supporters would have been outnumbered. I have no idea how much they pay these men but the staffing was ridiculous. That said, there really was no chance of riot here.

The week since the wobble has been fun with little new experiences but plenty of socialising. I felt ill at the weekend and the wobble returned for a while as I looked fruitlessly around for someone to hug- perhaps I should have grabbed one of the little green men, but their holstered guns are a turn off you know! Thankfully Mairi and Steve brought round the necessary imodium and after two tough days of semi-starvation I was back to normal. I must admit that I was overjoyed to have not needed to go to the clinic.

Monday was choir night again and I am enjoying my singing enormously; it takes me back to my brass band days and I have found that being able to read music is massively valuable. The walk home from the Ambassador’s residence is about 7 kilometres but I enjoyed it this week, strolling past the brightly lit streets and the neon colours that sparkle all over this sprawling city. The kids still play out at night here until late; often no parent in sight but it feels good. Perhaps, like me, they are not concerned. After all, there is a little green man standing about every 200 yards on every street, policing every underground station, hotel, embassy and even wandering the street like our bobbies on the beat used to do in times gone by. The invasion of little green men, it seems, is a good thing, they do absolutely nothing but somehow the deterrent is enough and I have never felt so safe in all my life. Genuinely.

That said, I am concerned by the apparent red lightsabers that they swing loosely around their hips. What they are, I don’t really know but I don’t think I’d be able to handle the force.

The Wobble 16/09/18

I was told I would wobble. Not in a rotund, slobbish ‘who ate all the pies’ kind of way. Though if I keep necking the Qibray (Uzbeck’s finest lager) at the current rate then there is a distinct possibility that I might resemble a young Daniel Lambert! Thankfully I have been eating well though I have to confess that orange and beetroot salad was not a delicacy I had expected to consume: devour would be fairer. It was delightful. So…what kind of a wobble and am I speaking in hyperbole once again! No. it is a genuine wobble; an emotional wobble and a planned for, expected wobble.

The first signs came last week when I had a rare moment on my own in the flat. I suddenly thought of Rach, of Kyle of my home and even Hattie- the little shit..zu. Being away from normality is one thing but being away from those you hold dear is something else. I knew it would happen and that I would have to be brave so what did I do? I cried a little. Then, I made more plans.

Over the last week, I have managed to learn more and more of the students’ names though pronouncing them correctly is a level beyond me. I still giggle like a pathetic child every time I call out Muhammed Ali (there are several of them here). The teaching week has been fun. The kids are gradually adapting to my style (whatever that may be) and I continue to work hard at deciphering the code (yes I know…I’m not Alan Turing) for using the Macbook. At some point I will desist from going into work on a Sunday to plan but for now, I guess burying my head in the planning and marking stabilises the wobble just a little bit.

I went to see Uzbekistan play football again last week and this time, after an hour of reasonable football, they fell apart and allowed Iran to score a goal that was quite simply a comedy of errors. The crowd are hilarious here and become very animated particularly as it’s a friendly. The chant of ‘Uz…bek…i…stan’ as four separated syllables rang around my head long after the game had finished. It was a relief that I did not wobble in the queue at the half time break when people go off to buy pepsi and the like, as queueing is not something that is done here. You have to have your metal about you. It is ‘dog eat dog’ and you do not politely wait for anyone.  I noticed this on the underground too. I, typically English, waited patiently, in what I thought was a queue, only to be cut up’ on the inside by a slim but deceptively strong shouldered waif of a woman who was waiting for no-one. They walk like they drive and I am slowly adjusting.

Saturday was great! I cooked up a curry for a colleague’s 60th birthday. It went down a storm as curry is not something you can get hold of much here. I was personally more impressed with the homemade hummus that another colleague had made as well as the wonderful sweet treats baked by the indefatigable Mairi (my boss and friend). The highlight of the night for me was getting a chance to blow on the Uzbek horn (the Karnay) which was magical; I didn’t do half a bad job, though there were certain notes that wobbled a little. These instruments are used for Uzbek weddings though through a lovely colleague at the school we had managed to get a small wedding band for the celebrations. It was great fun.

I continue to enjoy my time here. It is an experience like no other in my life to this date but I guess they’ll always be a part of me that occasionally wobbles until I get my beautiful wife here with me. Then, perhaps we can wobble together.

A Box of Delights 09/09/18

Imagine yourself a child for a moment, sitting in a smallish space with a new toy, maybe a whole box of toys, for you to play with; where you can unleash your imagination, not knowing where you will let your mind wander next. It is true, unequivocally, that Tashkent is full of new experiences, new culture and of course surprises and that I am, of course, the child in my twee analogy. It is also true that the analogy is somewhat lacking yet I cannot find another way to explain the last two weeks.

Normally, in the UK I step inside my metal box (which thankfully I scrapped before heading out here), drive, sometimes unconsciously, to work, teach (by habit) and get back in my metal box to my place of abode. It would be typical at this point also, to watch a little TV (something I have not done at all here- except for episodes of Breaking Bad on the laptop) eat my dinner, consume a couple of glasses of wine and then return to slumber. Repeat!

Here, though work is still important, challenging (maybe even more so with many pupils not having fluent English) and of course hectic (hardly anything works here) the focus is not simply teaching but experiences. In the UK, little cliques emerge (at best) an often, no one considers going out in the week or planning something interesting. Here, the social is king and the opportunities for new experiences seem endless. In two weeks, I have hiked through the mountains (see my travel blog) travelled on rickety old trains, watched a hybrid Radiohead/Muse type band sing and play their hearts out; I have watched the Uzbekistan international team try to play football; played football myself; eaten probably the best curry of my life so far and joined a jazz, rock fusion band and a choir.

Now, it is true that sometimes the early stages of a new job abroad might be full of fun and games and that eventually one settles into a more typical routine but my calendar is full for next week too and long may it be so: I am at the British ambassador’s tomorrow night for coffee, cake and singing. I wonder if there will be Ferrero Rocher!

Either way, I am sure there will continue to be many delights in this magical box that is Tashkent.

Afterglow- 26/08/18

They say that 'pride comes before a fall' and that no-one really likes a cocky git but as I sit here in my beautiful apartment with the early morning sun promising another gorgeous day; the birds singing outside and the beautiful harmonies of John Ireland's 'A Downland Suite' imbuing the space with a feeling of total joy, I have to admit  to basking in the afterglow of smugness. 

It is of course early days and there is certainly a holiday feel about my mood. Since getting here I have done nothing but go sightseeing around the city of Tashkent, drink, it has to be said very average lager and meet lots of lovely people with so many stories to tell: stories from all over the world.

First impressions are obviously great. Tashkent feels a little like the Mediterranean in truth though there is scant water as we are landlocked and bordered by several countries (5 I think but I will have to check on Dr Google later.) The weather is warm but not unpleasant and the heat is dry so even I haven't been sweating that profusely.

We met at Heathrow with a few of the newbies and had several pints of 'dutch courage' which helped me a little though I am a tad worried about how alcohol dependent I seem to have been of late. Perhaps it's nerves. After an eventful flight (a colleague I had just met seemed to have a sort of seizure on the plane) we touched down safely. My colleague, a lovely guy from Newcastle, recovered quicker than I could believe and certainly quick enough to be out drinking and eating merrily later that evening. 

The head, a nice guy, met us at the airport and put us at ease immediately, telling us all about this place we had jumped into. I was, as usual carrying light luggage and was surprised by the enormity of what some of the other teachers had brought with them: the Geordies seemed to have brought with them their entire worldly possessions, including two spanking new bikes. After a few more introductions I finally met Ruslan (Head of HR). For some bizarre reason that I am happy for all psychiatrists of the world to explore and let me know, I had expected the booming voice of Arnie Schwarzenegger to smash me in the face and so braced myself for an industrial machine-like handshake but was pleasantly surprised to get a simple 'Priveyeet' or 'hello' to those out there whose russian is one or two words worse than mine. 

Once we had managed to cram all the cases into a car and the mini bus (a feat to be proud of in itself) we were on our way to discover our accommodation. The exterior of my apartment was as expected: a run down, dark grey block of concrete with dusty windows though I was a little confused (still am to be honest) by the apparent derelict bandstand in the front garden. Very peculiar. I wondered whether to get my horn out and do a bit of erm…well, busking.

Inside however…paradise- another world. Clean, ordered and erm well ready to be spoiled by my presence. Ruslan and one of his men were fantastic though I took a sharp intake of breath as I walked across the threshold and Ruslan instantly said, ‘Err” before pausing and waiting for my recognition. ‘Take off shoes’ he said with a frightening imperative that was more in keeping with the fictional email character I mentioned earlier. From here it was plain sailing- money, phone numbers, food in the fridge, a map- all you could want, leaving me nothing to do whatsoever. Well…apart from heading off to find beer.

It seems that I might just have landed on my feet....I must take off my shoes mind.

On the Edge of the Precipice- 18-08-17

I know it's a melodramatic headline conjuring up mental pictures like Stallone hanging from a cliff side or Tom Cruise hanging upside down free climbing in Mission Impossible. But at least those guys had stuntmen!

In a few days I head out to Tashkent where my life, my daily routines and everything else will alter. I know that I am going to struggle with the emotion of it all;being away from the people I love so much, but I am brought back to why I did this in the first place. I guess I wanted to challenge myself, to do something new, to push myself out of my comfort zone. I know, I know...cliches, cliches cliches. Yet I don't know how else to explain my feelings. 

Last week I had my farewell do at the Chesterfield Arms. It was a heart warming moment for me as so many people came. I was pleased to still be standing up at the end of the evening as if I had taken up everyone's offer to buy me a drink then I think I might have actually drowned in alcohol. I wouldn't take back this evening for the world but I certainly felt ambivalent about the whole experience: so many friends, some of whom I have shared many experiences with and who I won't see again for a long time. It made me question my decision to leave, yet I also realised that I shouldn't have trouble making friends when I arrive.

So, the precipe...is it over dramatic? Possibly, but I do feel right now that I am about to step forward from one world and arrive in another. I just hope I don't fall.

Several Shots of Nostalgia- 03/08/18

The inconvenient thing about taking the massive step to move countries is that there are a lot of people to say goodbye to! This inevitably means party after party after party. Which is fine in itself but when you're trying to shed a few pounds it really does get in the way.

This time it was the big guy we wanted to say goodbye to before he heads off on his travels to extra hot Cairo. 

This was however, a very different evening to the polite, albeit with one moment of nuclear style water fighting, affair at Laura's the week before. This was the guys and the gals going 'out, out': the destination, Chezvegas. 

The evening began relatively quietly and, as is often the case, I had ony planned to go out for a couple. However, 'the best laid plans of mice and men...' Well, you know the rest. I reckon Robbie Burns was a pretty smart cookie.

I was the first to arrive and despite poular misconceptions about me I do like to be punctual. Others don't! That said, it was only a matter of twenty minutes or so before the throng arrived. We must have looked a rather curious bunch- the vast majority of the party being made up of 19 and 20 year olds who had, in the main, just finished their first year of uni. Ex students of myself and Godber (the big man). Alongside this group of perhaps 15 or so young people were myself- a portly, slightly balding, large forheaded individual- Godber an even balder 30 something giant; Sam Moses- a slim mean Robin Hood lookalike who's 'a lover not a fighter' and most gloriously of all, the Godfather, the head honcho, the cock of the yard, the meanest gladiator in the arena...Tezza! For those unfamiliar with Terry- he is, let's say a little older than myself- old enough in fact to be my dad. It was like a normal night out for young folk had been invaded by the Adam's family (sorry guys but it really did). Terry you are not Uncle Fester!

Having played it quite calmly early doors, the fun began when Godber (not famous for putting his hand in his pocket and perhaps feeling slightly guilty about forgetting to buy me the drink that he owed me) decided to place a large measure of some awful shot resembling a glass of whisky mixed with carbolic acid right in front of me before encouraging all and sundry to get me to drink the thing straight down. Now, I don't want to get all serious and introspective here but one of my many flaws as a human being is my inability to be strong in the midst of temptation and particularly the temptation to have fun and perform to the crowds. And so I dutifully sank the awfulstuff and carried on with my old man pint. Nostalgic shot 1- I am not a teenager anymore.

This then became a comical game and before long I had a tequila slammer sitting before me. What happened next? Did I laugh and say, 'I'm not drinking that?' No, I drank it, again. Noslgia shot 2- you get the idea. And so the evening became interesting. Before long we were in another pub- Aruba? No idea and one of our crowd (who shall remain nameless) bought a line of shots and wanted a race. I didn't win- NOSTALGIA SHOT TOO MANY.

Whilst still relatively compos mentis, we walked through the town whilst I Was leaning on an ex student who was somehow holding me up or maybe I was holding her up- an amazing sight to behold considering the fact that she was at least 3 times smaller than me- thank heavens it hadn't been Godber. Nevertheless, I thought to myself how incredible it was that these young people, students of Tibby past, successful people, well-rounded and lovely people, were still happy to hang out with us olds and to dance, laugh, chat and have a good night with. In truth it is humbling. Some might say it was odd; thinking that it was somehow unprofessional. They couldn't be more wrong. These were young people we had supported, remonstrated with, encouraged and helped them during their formative years but we had also taught them something more important than anything: teachers, like anyone else are simply people and it's ABSOLUTELY, fine to show that. 

The night ended with a lift from Godber. As me Tezza and Godber headed for the white stallion that is Godber's car, we bumped into some more students who pulled us over for a chat and a catch up. There is nothing more satisfying that I can think of than seeing young people you taught become happy adults. Tezza nodded to me and said, 'You see, that is what it's all about'. He's right,as usual.

I hope Godber enjoyed his send off. He has been a huge support to me in the last few weeks and I thank him for that. We have both made a life changing career decision and having him to chat with has made it all the easier.

I wish you luck big fella- stay in touch!

The Night of the Blood Moon! 28/07/18

I feel great today! No sense of the fear about my travels that has been plaguing my thoughts for weeks. The old school is still there but it's not under my skin anymore and I feel a sense of relief. It has been so hot recently; as hot as I can remember in this country but it's also been wonderful- I love the sun so long may it continue. 

Last night was the night of the blood moon: the century's longest lunar eclipse. Everyone is talking about it today- where were you? Did you see it? How did you feel? To be honest I never saw it. But I think it looked a bit like this:

Stunning isn't it? I tend to go over all ethereal whenever there is some astronomical delight to witness, hearing prog rock classics on a loop in my head as I look up to the sky but this year there was nothing but cloud above the lively chatter of Eversleigh Rise, Darley Dale. It must have cut a pretty ludicrous picure- two men using posh apps on their phones to discover where the moon was; one of the apps accompanied by music that I can only describe as- a sort of cross between Vangelis and soft trance music. I wasn't sure whether to meditate to it or groove. So I did neither and simply danced around the two phone holders as if in a dream world, whilst they ignored me. As I said...ludicrous in the extreme.

The afternoon and evening was a huge success. Another party, another chance to see folk I am ultimately going to miss so much when I go. Laura and Andy are good friends of mine and Laura and I in particular go way back and so it was really kind of her to put on a do in honour of those who are leaving the school (me of course being one of them). 

This barbecue was different however as it was my first serious challenge since becoming vegetarian about 3 days before. Sausages, burgers, and even salmon (thanks for that Sarah) gently cooked in front of my eyes. Even Shell's gnocchi had chorizo in it! Yet, to be honest it wasn't that difficult- I genuinely didn't want most of it and enjoyed the tatties, salad and haloumi (a personal fave of mine). My daughter would be proud of me!

The afternoon had started steadily and I snatched brief moments between the chatter to muse: there were loads of kids running about splashing and chasing each other and I thought back to when my kids were young: 'tempus fugit.' I noticed how many of the parents were not massively younger than myself and thought- I'm so glad that I don't have the responsibility of making sure they aren't falling over, or being mean to others. Yet both Rach and I still ended up drawn into the melee of the water fight and before long we were both soaked- I felt my pink t-shirt had become part of my actual skin. Kids never know when to stop but I have to say I really enjoyed it and for a moment I think we were both transported back to when our own kids were young whilst the actual parents enjoyed the fact that others were entertaining them for a while. 

Having been so hot for days, sitting in wet clothes was surprisingly refreshing and I slowly dried out as the evening wore on. Rach and I were staying over, so as we watched others leave, we continued to put away far too much wine but I enjoyed the chat with Andy and I went off at just after 2 about an hour after Laura and Rach had slipped off to beddy byes. Andy was kind and made me feel really good about my life-changing decision. It's always good to get some perspective.

So we may not have seen the red moon, or wondered at the eclipse but it was a great day and the promise of thunderstorms were in the air. I hope that isn't a metaphor or some pathetic fallacy for times ahead. I guess we'll have to wait and see.

A Step Towards Enlightenment- 15/07/18

I am standing in front of a crowd of people: heart beating, unprepared, 'nothing', absolutely 'nothing' in the vacuous space between my ears. It is what nightmares are made of! Then I breathe, look up, open my mouth and speak.

So began my final speech before leaving the school I have taught at for many years. I listened, laughed (appropriately of course) and clapped at the right time as others before me said their piece and sat down with their card and gift. Then it was my turn; I desperately wanted to encapsulate all that I have been involved in, recount the funny stories, the memories, the mistakes, the achievements and the downright bizarre but it wasn't the time, or the place and the mind went blank.

In the end I plumped for a positive message- 'we are not an exam factory, and students are not tins of beans. Treat pupils with respect and all else will follow'.

It has been a reflective, nostalgic couple of weeks with students wanting selfies, hugs and hand shakes. Students are so warm in their thank yous and they do not shy away from telling the truth as they see it, even if it brings a tear to your eye. There were times where I smiled and enjoyed the last few moments with these fab young people but at other times I wanted to crawl into a small space and be alone. Leaving is the hardest thing to do in the world when a piece of your heart remains in the world you are leaving.

The World is a Small Place- 23/06/18

So England's result against Tunisia looks less impressive now! Belgium's display: beating Tunisia 5 v 2 will certainly grab headlines and dent the confidence of every English football fan. Not that confidence is something one would normally associate with English football fans- at least not sober ones anyway. As I watch these different countries battling it out on the green fields of Russia I am reminded how many places I have yet to see.

Bored by the commentary at the end of the game I flick through my emails and see yet more jobs, all over the world, that I can apply for: New York, the Maldives, Jersey, Kuwait and more. I realise that my maudlin mood is ill-warranted in the extreme and a little pathetic: how many people are lucky enough to have a job that is so transferable. Teaching really is a fabulous way of seeing different parts of the world. I don't need to wait until I am retired; hope for some sort of freedom that may or may not happen in some distant time. It really is doable now.

I am beginning to feel free: free from constraints, free from the mundane; free from what I already know so well. In my profession, the world really is a small place.

Breaking the circle 07/06/18

I've been here before: time and time again; moving slowly in incessant circles. Young minds, fresh faces; hopes and dreams rub shoulders with the ghosts of the past- phantoms of times gone by in the crucible that is our school hall. I am overtaken with a feeling, a sensation that, in truth, I don't fully comprehend and I won't try to describe.I'd need to be Dickens to get this one across!

We have experienced the frolics of the dance off with the year 11 students who managed to make it to one of our final drama sessions. This is a crazy moment and I cannot resist joining in- though the worm is a dance move too far these days. The vibrant colours of the 'leavers' hoodies', a garden of bright flowers. I genuinely hope they grow well and that they blossom, taking with them the confidence they have gained along with the selfies they take with mind blowing regularity.

This six weeks will be like a slow bereavement. Forgive me the hyperbole but I have been at this school for many years and leaving it hurts- I have a knot in the stomach; a knot formed by the unknown; a knot I must unravel.

An hour passes by. One hour closer to breaking the circle. Sometimes I guess life can be too comfortable.

Keep Calm and DIY 25/05/18

So this weekend I continued to try and sort out the house in preparation for my trip to Tashkent: sorry, I have to keep saying it; just need to make it real, somehow more tangible. It hasn't worked and neither has the DIY. Don't get the wrong idea. I am not miserable but I suppose a little wistful, partly brought on by the nostalgic trip to the 1980s that I have just experienced whilst watching 'The Wedding Singer' again. I can't stand Adam Sandler films normally but that one always gets me. What else is there to do than DIY?

It's funny really. I have never been and will never be a natural, when it somes to DIY. My nostalgic brain takes me back to many a mishap such as the time I drilled through an electric wire and it fizzed around like a wild snake in the cavity, sparks flying around like fire from a dragon. Dad sorted me out (handy to have an electrician as a dad). Then of course there was the awful moment that I ordered  4 times too much concrete, wet and ready to lay for the new patio I was building. I had thought myself so intelligent when I had remembered the equation Pi (sorry can't find the symbol on the keyboard) r squared. Of course, as it was a quarter circle I really ought to have divided by 4. My Math's teachers Mr Elmore (aka the milky bar kid) would be shaking his golden locks in despair.

Today it was the upper bathroom or the ensuite (if you're middle class). We had the loft conversion done nearly ten years ago and I thought it was about time I decorated. It is amazing  how the thought of travelling thousand of miles away galvanises the spirit. I even managed to get the colour scheme right (don't tell my wife but that was a fluke). In truth, I have done a reasonable job, though I still have to lay the lino tomorrow so it could go wrong. Wish me luck!

I guess what I have learnt about myself over the last week is that I will always look back and I will forever be a mediocre DIY worker but I am always willing to give things a go and if DIY takes my mind off my fears then all the better for it.

Eurovision 12/05/18

A few days closer to my trip and a night of cultural (well what can I say) lunacy! It's Eurovision!!! No Uzbekistan of course, though we do get to enjoy Australia and Israel- erm, Eurovision?

In truth, I usually watch Eurovision in the background: I guess I spent most of my time pretending not to like it, feigning some embarrassing elitism or superiority. In fact, it is as ever, hilarious and I gawped in wondered at the whole programme and thoroughly enjoyed it like a dirty burger I shouldn't eat. It was wonderful to see so many countries singing in their own language- something that has been missing in recent years. I didn't touch a drop of alcohol during the songs (honestly) though at times I did wonder whether my moroccan chicken had been spiked with LSD. I laughed in open mouthed wonder at the 3 witches and Macbeth from Serbia, Denmark's Viking Boyzone- Dawn French impersonating Bjork with chicken accessories for Israel and of course Bulgaria's fat Justin Timberlake. Yet the ludicrous picture which summed up the jocular pandemonium was the incredible and hilarious sight of Lady Ga Ga singing with the cast of 'Game of Thrones' and a random member of the boyband 'Blue'.

What is beautiful and wonderful is how so many of these acts genuinely take themselves seriously; many trying desperately and apparently unashamedly to ape some Brit/American pop but others holding the hand of some cliched cultural, historical link that they only half understand and that leave the audience in bewildered awe. Yet it is this that is so exciting; well, this and the results: I do wonder whether, despite my grade C ( I know!) in Maths I am secretly a closet accountant. How can it be that I am truly engrossed, truly absorbed, almost capitvated as the results come in. I care little for any of the songs (I did like the Austrian effort) or the artists but the numbers matter; they really matter: the inexplicable excitement of seeing countries moving up and down a leaderboard whilst I laugh as England scrap it out in the gutter, hoping not to finish lying in the streets, with its hands out begging for help. For a moment I did wonder whether that image itself might be an apt metaphor for our country's future post Brexit but then I pinch myself and remember that this is all a bit of fun (even if our entry was borderline assaulted by a crazy activist on stage). Surely it is all a coincidence right?

I have enjoyed tonight. It has been fun and that is what this competition is all about and my passion to travel has somehow been intensified. It isn't because I feel that somehow I have been given a historical lesson or a glimpse into the real but there is evidently lots of fun in the world and Eurovision celebrates just that.

A changed man.

It begins... 05/05/18

Less than four months to go before I embark on the journey to Tashkent in Uzbekistan. Having been in a state of what I can only refer to as 'Ambivalent Turmoil' for weeks, I have finally begun to accept the reality and relish it!

I have an enormous passion for teaching and have loved my teaching career thus far. More than 2 decades of amazing experiences have helped to mould the person I am. Young people are always inspiring and yet always surprise us but it is now time for me to take my passion to a new place; to create new memories for myself and others.

When I made the decision to throw myself into this venture, kind people called me brave and others (were they more honest) called me crazy! I thought I was entering a mid-life crisis- my wife still at home, my son in upper sixth and my daughter in her first year at uni. Yet, it is these wonderful people (my family) who have encouraged me, and not allowed me to 'back out and believe me, I have tried.

They were right. I have always been an adventurer and now I have to satisfy my urges or forever depress those around me. Call it a weakness; laud it as a strength but, and I speak in contemporary cliched lexicon, 'It is what it is'. I am going to Tashkent and I can't wait.