Teacher Tales

Fingers Crossed- 06-04-23

So- mum and Dad arrive shortly and I have been tracking their flight on the internet. Currently, they are flying at nearly 600 miles an hour, at a height of 37000 feet and are, as I write, crossing the Black Sea. If only we still lived in Tashkent as they’d almost be there! It really is a long way to Malaysia. A sick, strange part of me keeps thinking of the Malaysian airways flight that disappeared and the other one that was shot down only a month later. The same ‘smeg’ can’t happen to the same airline three times right?

I am trying desperately to contain my excitement, like a child waiting on Christmas Eve to open their presents. It has been a long, long time since I saw any of my family and this is exactly what Rach and I need. I am acutely aware of the passing of time these days and have no idea how many more times I can have experiences like these with my parents. Each one really, really matters. I mean we have even tidied the house, mopped the floors and cleaned the bathrooms!

It is a night to celebrate for other reasons too. We have twenty days off work now and it has been a long term. This week our form 2 and 3 finished their news broadcast projects, which were wonderful; exams follow the Easter break; we have successfully staffed the English department for next year and I have been promoted to Assistant Head teacher. I assume this will mean a pay rise and a new and exciting opportunity. KTJ is an excellent school and I hope I can keep working here for a while longer. Last week, I played a judge in the scholarship interviews which we ran like a Dragon’s Den or as the American call it Shark Tank. We also had a mufty day and I painted my nails, much to the shock and horror of some of my male students. One boy said, ‘Don’t turn trans sir”.

It is also great that several of my ex colleagues have secured jobs for next term. I am just delighted that they want to work with me again. I mean, they do know me. Ha ha.

Rachel has continued to make progress with her health and we are both hoping for a wonderful tour of the western coast of Malaysia. Here, the temperature continues to sit in the mid-thirties and the humidity is exceptionally high. Yet, we are used to it now and it really doesn’t bother us. However; I know Rachel is keen to get up into the Cameron Highlands where the heat is slightly less severe. Fingers crossed that everything works out.

Uneasy Bedfellows- 18-03-23

And so I return to the Fantasia by Vaughan Williams and based on a theme by Thomas Tallis. The melody wraps itself and round you and hugs you with melancholy jubilance. I am transfixed…as usual. This music makes me nostalgic but fills me with a joy for life that it is hard to describe. The music is an uneasy bedfellow of the cheap, high strength rice wine spirit I am currently consuming. Yet, it works somehow.

Tomorrow, I am off to Kuala Lumpur to see Macbeth (I said it but don’t read it allowed and I’m sure you’ll be ok). The jungle city and the Scottish play are not obvious bedfellows, in truth but hopefully it will work out as well as Tallis and a rice wine. It will be my first theatre production in Malaysia and on that note alone, is exciting.

It has been a quite week or so with Rachel also juxtaposing a slow recovery with rapid aesthetic changes. Yesterday, she was out at the supermarket Lotus (owned by Tesco) to buy bedding for the imminent arrival of my mum and dad, which we are both looking forward to enormously. On her return she begins tanning herself- oddly here people whiten themselves. I am confused on this one. Why is it that when we are pale we try to look dark and when we are dark, we try to look pale? Vanity has a lot to answer! Rachel also dyed her hair a sort of ‘stone blue’, I think but what would I know- I am part colour blind.

The temperature has ramped up of late and we are now dealing with 34 degrees daily, with high levels of humidity. Of course, Rach and I have coupled this heat raise with more walks out in nature- once again, not entirely ideal partnership. Nevertheless, we have seen some lovely lakes, tropical plants and even frighteningly large lizards. The monkeys are so ordinary now, it is odd. The aim of the walks to have fun, of course, but we are also trying to strengthen Rachel’s left side after the ‘significant event’. It seems to be working, despite the heat.

Work has been steady but confusion and uncertainty is kicking in regarding my role next year and this is not a great friend of relaxation. I am uneasy as to where I will be- teaching Drama, English, both- running the department (as I do now) or stepping back and taking on a whole school Teaching and Learning role. It is crucible of confusion at the moment. I applied for a role that was not fully defined but although I think I was the front runner, the school needs me in the role I am currently doing. Who knows how this will work out but obviously promotion and career progression does not always hold hands happily with stability and need. In truth, I don’t really mind what I do but it would be great to know.

And so, with three weeks to go, how am I feeling? A sort of excitement for the future tinged with a fear of uncertainty. Now they are ideal bedfellows eh?

Magnolia growing from a Vanilla Pie- 05-03-23

It’s odd indeed that today, when I saw lizard, (and I mean a proper massive one) walking along the path next to Rach and I, that I hardly flinched; and how when we drove home under the overhanging jungle trees and swerved around a family of monkeys, we didn’t even change our line of conversation. I guess we have settled well and truly into Malaysian life. 

Today, we walked around a gorgeous lake near the Islamic state university which has a beautiful masjid. Here, the diverse flowers blossom and create a vibrant, colourful backdrop to the stillness of the lake and the overhanging willow-like trees. In the near distance, there is an old-fashioned railway bridge, like something out of A Bridge Too Far and we were able to witness a train come rattling along the tracks. 

Rach and I have been trying to do a walk a week and build up her strength after her brain event! It is taking time but today, Rach managed a mile and this is a big step up for which she should be proud. Despite this little outing, it has all been very ‘vanilla’ of late: Rach recovering at home, me cracking on with work and any fun seeming annoyingly distant.

In truth we did have another cracking weekend in Kuala Lumpur recently, and a fabulous meal in a vegan restaurant. We strolled through KL park and took shots of the inspiring Petronas Towers and even paddled in the pond that sits nearby. The highlight of the weekend was the fireworks from the top of the hotel and the lazer show which even re-created an alien spacecraft in the night sky. This was definitely not 'vanilla' but the taste was rather dulled as Rachel still struggled with her movement and her anxiety. Nevertheless; it was a big step for her and we really enjoyed the get away.

Today has definitely been vanilla- planning mainly and , in truth, I am under it at the moment with a tough month ahead, loads of work and no clear holidays until April 6th. It happens like this in teaching sometimes, where everything seems to escalate and be challenging at a specific time and so I can bash through, using my experience.

Yesterday was the school show for which I received a box of choccies but my part, this year, was relatively minimalist and so it isn’t the usual relief that comes with a show concluding. The week before I was a judge for the annual house drama competition which was a delight and I have to confess to being startled and amazed with how good the students were. They were totally responsible for their own story and script. I was impressed and the littlest ones won, which was magnificent and brought the house down with cheers.

After the show, I dropped into Ben’s for beers and Rach was already well oiled. It was good for her to get out and chat with folk after so long stuck in the house. This weekend, we say goodbye to one of the teachers in my department and so I wrote her a spoken word poem, which I am proud of. Rachel is writing it up in calligraphy and we will give it to her on Saturday when we all go out for dinner and say goodbye.

Recruitment is what it is all about at the moment and we are looking for four teachers- we have managed to offer two jobs so far, which is great but it is hard work. The good news is that I look like getting two teachers from my Tashkent days. That should make things a lot easier. 

So as I said, all very 'meh' at the moment- very vanilla: a magnolia period in our adventures. We just need to get through it and mum and Dad will soon be here.

Recovering From A Significant Brain Event- 08-02-23

It is unusual to go swimming on a Wednesday lunchtime during a school week and as I felt the lapping of the water over my comforted limbs, my brain returned home to the UK, where it is no doubt cold and damp and miserable and where teachers, along with many other service workers are striking to try and get a fair deal out of this dreadful, morally moribund government headed by yet another privileged unelected leader. Leader! I dislike that term, even within my own business of education. You aren’t a leader, you are a servant: a servant to the staff and students in your care. Grrr…and so- after mild distraction, I was delighted to have been able to bask in the sun and have a swim when so many of my UK colleagues are having such a hard time.

Why am I not work? You may ask. Well, at this school, you only have to be at work, when you are teaching and so can plan your time accordingly. It is an excellent and eminently sensible approach, where professionals are trusted and where the management know that to best serve the staff and students, they should respect their teachers. Teachers work most nights and every weekend- it is just what we do, so having this flexibility is very helpful indeed. 

The swim has definitely helped and, in truth, I do need to relax. Last week was a difficult week. Rachel collapsed at work and it was discovered later that she had had a significant brain event (a stroke) which is extremely worrying, especially at only 48. We had been to Melaka the weekend before and she had become unwell there but we didn't know how bad it would become. We had bbeen distracted by the magnificent butterfly and reptile sancturay, which even had alligators as well as jungle plants everywhere. Rach seemed to be improving and certainly stroking one of the large lizards seemed to be right up her street Unfortunately, the lizard action and butterfly paradise was not enough.

I have nothing but praise for the outstanding medical care she has received (incomparable to the shambles in the UK- at no fault of the doctors and nurses), the speed of it and the efficiency. She is now on yet more meds but she has already seen an improvement and we’re both confident that the new tablets coupled with regular appointments and care will see her right as rain.

Since this moment, Rach has had an epiphany: painting, writing stories, comic sketches and reading avidly. She has been cooking delicious food and we have been balancing work wonderfully well with our free time. Long may this continue and well done Rach- you are smashing this recovery.

I am interviewing candidates this week and I am a tad nervous about the process, well not the actual process but perhaps, where we might end up. I have worked hard to build a department’s confidence and we are doing rather well (in my opinion) and yet now I might have to start again with as many as three or four new staff. Thankfully, some faces from the past have applied and well, you never know, I might have the opportunity to work with some real stars again. So, as Rach recovers, so too might my department. The future is surely bright and with Rach by my side, it always will be.

Welcome to the Wonders of Malaysia- 26-01-23

Rach and I enjoyed a pleasant meal out today for Matt’s 40^th birthday, at a Malaysian restaurant called Aunty Aini’s, where you can purchase, fresh snapper, sea bass, smoked duck rendang and even indulge in plenty of durian, if that is your vibe! It isn’t mine. We had some durian as a sort of dessert (well I had a mouthful). This completely original fruit is hard to describe and most will speak of its pungent aroma, a sort of camembert rolled gently in sewage stench that can almost make you gag. I have been told you can get used to it. I hope so. The flesh of the fruit is fibrous on the outside and then, surprisingly custard cream like underneath. I felt like I was eating an out of date mango through a sock. Please don’t let me put you off. The birthday boy said he had been trying to like durian for three and a half years but today, on his 40^th, he finally enjoyed one. Time and patience is clearly of the essence.

And now, with all the dexterity and grace of a brontosaurus, I have clumsily landed in the world of odd things about Malaysia. Well, it has been a while so here we go. I have spoken before about hotel room signs declaring ‘No durian’ (fully understood now) and even ‘no dragon fruit’ but there are other aspects of hotel rooms that will surprise. Firstly, the absence of soap in almost all of them and yet the plentiful supply of unnecessary cosmetics such as face cream, body lotion or cotton wool to powder your nose. In every room I have stayed in, in Malaysia, except for one, there has been an arrow, always in the corner of a room and thereby pointing to a wall. We pondered on whether there might be another realm beyond hotel room walls in Malaysia or some sort of ‘anomaly’ in the space time continuum. I don’t know why it took us so long to work it out but in one hotel, the arrow had a picture of a mosque or masjid on it and suddenly it became clear: the arrow was pointing to Mecca and was showing all good Muslims which direction to face when praying.

The curious nature of hotel rooms does not end there however. We have twice stayed in hotels in Malaysia where there is a large window into the bathroom from the bedroom. On one occasion, the main object showcased through the window was the toilet and the other, a bath. It is hard not to sit in wonder at the thought process of the designers of these interiors. Why, oh why would you want to lie on a bed and watch your roommate, however alluring they may be, crouched on the toilet, gurning in full squeeze? How weird would it be to sit watching someone bathing? I guess it might depend on who was in the bath- Jabba the Hut- a big no but Kate Winslet (in her Rose from Titanic phase) maybe. Yet it is certainly bizarre to design a hotel room interior on this voyeuristic principle isn’t it? Oh, 'let’s put a window here in case a person ends up sharing with Kate Winslet'!

In all fairness, on further inspection there was a blind to pull down once in the toilet but I did wonder whether it might be better to just put a wall in. Besides, one of the blinds we pulled down looked like a giant petri dish, covered in all manner of well, rotten faeces?

A couple of weeks ago, Rach and I went to a comedy night with a bill of around five Malaysians who were superbly funny. We scoffed fine tapas, drank extortionate wine, and genuinely had a lot of fun. However; it was a new and oddly wonderful experience to be the target of a lot of jokes at our expense, mainly based around colonialism. The jokes came thick and fast and no subject was safe, including Islam, politics, trans and homosexuals and more. We were warned to not record any of the material as the week before, they had been raided and one of the comedians had been arrested for heresy. Malaysia is a progressive place but the progression is still very much underground, when it comes to these sorts of topics.

In Malaysia, you will frequently witness bike or more precisely moped riders wearing their coats on backwards, a little like we did as kids when pretending to wear a strait jacket for some odd game (just me?) It is obviously to reduce the power of the wind on the chest as they motor along but it is a weird sight. We, in the UK, are used to seeing people on bikes in full protective leathers but here they wear shorts, t-shirts, sandals and the women wear dresses and head scarves. Malaysia looks very different. Here, you will also see dogs, occasionally monkeys but mostly dogs wandering in the middle of roads without a care in the world, and motorists swerving around them to avoid killing them. This coupled with the many pot holes on the road can make for an interesting drive on some roads: slalom, I suppose.

That said, in Malaysia, the drivers are super chilled out. There are very few beeps of the horn and allthough drivers have almost no lane discipline, at roundabouts particularly, people to not yell out of the window, angrily honk their horns or curse and rudely gesticulate- they just slow down, speed up or do whatever is needed to drop back into the line of traffic. Only today, I watched as a driver dropped into the left hand lane at a roundabout but casually turned right, drifting through the wall of cars with ease. In Kuala Lumpur, I saw one chap pull across five lanes of heavy traffic, in one move- slow and consistent and everyone just stopped and let him in. No beeping; no shouting; no gesticulation; no dick head signs.

It has been a real learning experience so far and we are certainly having fun along the way. School is back on Monday, so, I’ll just say, see you later boss (gotta get used to this greeting to- well, if you’re a man).

Someone Please Take My Headache Away- 15-01-23

I have had a headache for about twenty-four hours, possibly a little longer but the fault is all of my own.

So the saga begins with a rare present- a Saturday off work and thanks to the birthday of some Malaysian royal, we were allowed to let our hair down on a Friday night.

Rach fancied a quiet night in, so I jumped in with some of the chaps and headed into less than salubrious Mantin. That said, the Chinese lanterns out on the street for the Year of the Rabbit celebrations gave the small town a real lift and before long we were sitting on a table just outside a rough looking local restaurant, which served very good food and the usual choice of Tiger or Carlsberg. The banter was excellent and the conversation varied as always, in these situations. I have to confess to missing these ‘piss ups’ a little bit and, seemingly, on cue, fireworks began blasting into the night air, set off from the street, as tends to be the norm here.

If I thought this scruffy looking –tin-pot looking establishment was ‘getting down’ with the locals, I really had no idea, for after finishing of our beers we walked a few metres further down the road to a ‘naughty’ booze shop, which has a little back room, specifically for alcoholics, I would think. I say this, as there is nothing of aesthetic interest, in the room at all: two tables, a few chairs, grimy white walls, a very smelly toilet; some stairs that seem to disappear into the fabric of the wall itself and a fridge!

We drank heartily here- myself on the special brew, leading to various homelessness jokes. From here, we drove back to a colleagues house and sat, looking out over the post-midnight blackness of the golf course, supping and chatting, briefly hitting the religion topic which, as usual, became a little toasty and then finally headed home at around 4.00am

As, I said, the headache is one I truly have to own.

I slept well but not long enough as Rach and I had booked tickets to see Avatar at the IOI in Putrajaya. My head was throbbing all day and despite a few errors in trying to find a place to park at the enormous mall, which is like a city in itself, we did manage to find the cinema.

Times have moved on since I last went to a modern day cinema, which was probably in 2019 but I did find the experience overwhelming at first, with pre-booking seemingly required, in terms of food, everyone paying with QR codes, e-wallets and the like and even barriers at the cinema entrance as if we were in some parking lot or airport. You have to scan your code of your online purchase to get in but you cannot enter until five minutes before the film starts so we were rejected at first and had to stand around looking bewildered.

I felt very, very old and began to wonder what my dad and mum would make of this. It was busy, frenetic almost with business, pre-made meals and drinks and bar codes everywhere. I don’t think the lady at the barrier had a till so I’m glad I had paid in advance, or I don’t think we could have gone into the film. That is probably not true but it wasn’t obvious how to pay with cash.

The cinema itself lacked character and I appreciate that there is a space reserved in my head for the nostalgia of the Loughborough Curzon but I do wonder, whether this ICT world of phones and codes and the like hasn’t actually improved anything but made it all so robotic, clinical and for older people, like me, stressful as hell! I’m not sure it has even sped anything up, to be honest.

That said, the cinema experience itself was mesmerising, exciting and at times, annoying. We went into a 4D film which was actually 3D as we had no glasses and therefore, the 4d element reduced to three: length, breadth and physical immersion. The seats jump around every time a character rides a beast, falls off something or even if an engine roars into life. You are buffeted around a lot, squirted with water, blown on at pace, if someone shoots someone and even punched in the back to simulate the shooting of arrows. From the side walls, bubbles are blown, during some of the underwater scenes and fogging machines pump dry ice whenever there is smoke an explosion, or if a mouse farts! I began to wonder if this is the future of cinema and pondered how far they might take it. Perhaps one day you will get to feel the pain of being on fire or be injected with sharp objects to simulate puncture wounds.

Where can they take this next?

I appreciate that I sound negative but actually, I’m not. My thoughts on 4d are mixed. At certain moments, it was wonderful and so immersive that you forgot who you were or where you were. At others, it felt that the gimmick technicians and scientists had forgotten about the experience of the punter and were just having fun trying to do as much as they could with this seemingly unassuming comfortable seat. It was too much, and at times annoying and yet at others, captivating.

The film itself was enjoyable by the way!

The headache was not improved by the experience post-film. Avatar had taken my mind elsewhere and I’d been able to ignore the pain but it was back with a vengeance, when we couldn’t find the car. We had remembered the letter and number, (C17) but not realized that there were many C17s. I chatted through my frustrations with a Chinese chap who couldn’t find his vehicle either. There followed about ninety minutes of going up and down travellators, getting stuck behind idiots who just stand there waiting for the moving pathway to inch, ever so slowly, forwards; and of course getting in the way of cars who are, annoyingly, driving happily out of the dingy underground that Rach and I were inhabiting far longer than we would have wanted to.

It took so long to find the vehicle that we decided to drive to Putrajaya and after more headache-reinforcing Google maps instructions and about eight trips back and forth over the same bridge, we managed to find the Zenith hotel, which we booked into and had a pleasant meal in the rooftop restaurant. It is dynamic up there, with a very impressive government headquarters building standing next to perhaps the most impressive Masjid I have seen so far in Malaysia. The setting of the lake, as always, adds beauty to the image and the lights on the impressive bridge shone brightly revealing a head-on shape that reminded us both of the bow of a ship, of titanic proportions. It is a cool place.

My headache remained and when I woke it was still there, much to my disappointment.

Another Male Period- 01-01-23

I wrote a poem many years ago called The Male Period which started something like:

‘You walk a long way but don’t get very far

You want to be the outcast but equally the star

You’re an open book but don’t know who you are’

It was naff- no question and I write with no false humility. Nevertheless, I somehow feel a little like that again at the moment and the words came back to me in all their embarrassing pretension. I don’t think it is the new year nostalgia or the Christmas Blues because to be frank, I haven’t even noticed Christmas this year and I had no negative or melancholic emotions at all last night. It has crept up on me today and slowly consumed me. I am prizing the jaws of the dragon open and pulling myself out though and as I often do, I have taken to writing.

We had a long night at our friends Matt and Lucretia’s yesterday, arriving at theirs at about 4.30pm and staying right through to the witching hour. They were great hosts and we had new varieties of pizza, including a cheeseburger pizza (I know). Matt knocked up some cocktails and I thoroughly enjoyed the daiquiri, a drink I have known about for many years but had never tasted: I loved the fresh raspberries. We had two fireworks sessions and experienced Malaysian style explosions with rockets that you clutched in your hand as they exploded and sparklers that if you swished them around too much, they were liable to set someone on fire. And where did all this explosive frivolity take place? At the back of a fenced in yard, or in a deep tree stump made for the occasion. No- in the front driveway and on the street. If a UK person saw this, they would be startled and then would stand on end as they would be struck with horror without question.

We had fun.

The week since returning from Thailand has been quiet and we have done a whole lot of very little actually, although we had Rich and Amy round for nibbles and drinks on the 30^th which was pleasant and they are always excellent company. Tomorrow, I am meeting the English department at a fish restaurant around the back of Broga temple for a little grub and some beers and this small event signals the end of what has been a fantastic break from work- the longest December break I have ever had, to be truthful.

So how would I sum up this odd year and what do I feel going forwards? Despite my dour mood, I have to confess to having had a lot of adventures this year. I travelled to nine countries (Rachel 11), re-settled in a warm and pleasant land and embraced a new job successfully with open arms. Earlier in the year I climbed Snowdon and recently, I finally managed to get to Angkor Wat. My son graduated from uni and my daughter was promoted in her job to a managerial role. Conversely, we have had all sorts of problems with the house including subsidence and drainage issues that if I cared to be more descriptive you would turn green and certainly not with envy. The world continues to fall further into madness, with some countries banning the Chinese due to a perceived greater threat from covid and the war in Ukraine moving inexorably and inevitably towards the end of its first year (I don’t see that ending). The Queen died, and Charles finally got his hands on the crown and the UK endured the mercifully short tenure of Liz Truss as Prime minister (the shortest serving PM in History). Prices are through the roof in the UK but here in Malaysia all is sweet economically and we can be smug for a short while longer.

So, my odd ‘blue’ feeling. What is it? Why is it? It is hard to say- the male period I guess.

Karma- 19-12-22

It batters down hard, the rain in South East Asia and here on the idyllic island of Phi Phi, it is no different. You hear the pitch change and become higher and higher as the incessant pummeling of water on the roof and windows intensifies, so that each time you think it can't get heavier, it does. 

I become very contrary in this weather as I want to be in it, go walking, throw myself in pools or even swim in the sea, whilst most folk like to sit in their rooms, with the Do Not Disturb signs on their doors. I am not sure whether it is the exhibitionist in me and I suppose I like to think of it as something a little more Bear Grylls than it actually is. I wouldn't last 5 minutes.

Anyway, maybe I'm not that crazy. Those who do wander about the hotel environs sport orange and black umbrellas, and some more protective types, wear full body Macs, also provided by the hotel. The temperature is still over 25 degrees and you get wetter in the sea, so why the paranoia? I understand it in England where you have been trained to protect yourself from the wet as the temperature can drop to genuinely dangerous levels. Death's scythe might even make an appearance, if you're not careful, but here?

It takes all sorts. I get that it is probably uncomfortable to sit in wet clothes but maybe a towel rather than a Mac? 

OK…on balance, I am the weirdo. I've done far more people watching than I should have, and there it is.

We have had a great time off work recently, strolling around Cambodia's temples, immersing ourselves in the hubbub of Bangkok and lolling with intent on Phi Phi island. We make no apologies but then maybe the torrential rain is karma for our smugness.

There will, you guessed it, be a blog about our South East Asian journeys, once I finish, and post the Langkawi blog. I must stop going on holiday for a bit (smug overload and yes it is still pouring down).

It seems a lifetime away since I was at work but, in truth, it was only a couple of weeks ago. We have seen and done so much since then. The end of term itself was fun and I successfully reprised my role as Santa, once again (add huge dollops of ad nauseum) to everyone's delight but mine; as I slowly baked inside the suit, whilst loping around in 30 degree heat. Sweatfest. Nevertheless, I managed some free plonk at the Principal's house afterwards.

We had a good boozy night at The Brew House on the last day of the primary school term, with some friends and said goodbye happily as everyone wished each other well for their travels. It really is a great way of life that everytime a school holiday arrives, most folk are away on their adventures, to interesting and exotic locations.

Final smug shot: was voted coolest teacher in an assembly, mainly for dressing as Gangsta Granny. 

Ooo, there is a grainy bit in this satay, thoroughly unpleasant. There is that bloomin' karma again.

New Experiences and Echoes of the Past 26-11-22

Sports Day done! We are 6602.06 miles away from the small, ex-mining village of Tibshelf, in North Derbyshire, which I once saw as my ‘teaching home’, and Sports Day is exactly the same: from colour coded sports kits (students divided into their houses) to the comical  announcer; the team of timers at the finish line; to the unfortunate teachers responsible for the unenviable crowd control. I was given the honour of waving the red or white flag to indicate to the starter marshall, when we were ready to start. At Tibshelf School, we used to use a duck that was painted on a stick and was red on one side and white on the other. Here, it was two flags which I used alongside my waist line to entertain the students with some less than inspiring dance moves- even learning how to ‘floss’! Embarrassing. I suppose the only major difference between Tibby and Malaysia, in terms of sports day was the weather- constantly around 33 degrees. Scorchio!

Yesterday it was book week at school and I unleashed Gangsta Granny upon the upper sixth formers to a mixture of fear and hilarity. Mostly fear, I think. Once again, another echo of the past: me dressing up in ridiculous clothes to make kids laugh and guess what? I haven’t escaped the hell of Santa- or Satan Claws as one guest on a Louis Theroux documentary once called the rotund present giver. I have no idea how this happens. I can try, and I have, to keep a low profile; to not talk about these horrors from my past but it makes no difference. The Dr himself- our Principal asked me personally if I would be Santa at the end of school party next Saturday. Why always me?

The World Cup is in full force and England have given us the new experience of starting a competition by winning 6v2 but echoes of the past soon returned when in the next game, they couldn’t find the answers required to best the americans, and so drew 0v0. The controversy has, of course, grown in the political spaces that exist between western liberalism and Islamic law. Unfortunately, the whole debate has often got out of hand and the football might end up being second, as far as this tournament is concerned.

So, a week to go before secondary school finishes and we’ve been handed another day off this Monday, courtesy of the new primeminister, Anwar (a slightly left of centre moderate) who is a breath of fresh air for the country and particularly for a more progressive Malaysian youth, even though he himself, ironically, looks like he was born just a few years after the first diplodocus.

Speaking of youth, tonight I am attending a concert of words and music, including a rendition of Bach’s double violin concerto, performed by talented KTJ students. I am actually looking forward to it despite being a Saturday night. No-one else seems to be doing a great deal so it will be a fun experience and fills an evening. It takes me back to the times I myself used to perform in such concerts and particularly those years when my talented father used to arrange music for our brass trio- which also included some of the Bach suites.

I was considering popping over to the golf club for a beer pre-concert but am umming and arring… I do have to go on to the stage to introduce the poets but well, you know me…

As predicited the new experience of camping on the beach of Port Dickson also had echoes of the past, with Rach and I, predictably, struggling to make fire. With the help of some lovely kind citizens the five of us did manage to get it going eventually and the food was wonderful- well we've always been good at that. Rach floated out on the dingy and we drank wine as the day turned into night. It was magical and new.

In the middle of the night, echoes of our time camping in the Peak District returned as the rain teamed down upon us. This time though, the lightning storm was spectacular and a little frightening. After breaking the zip on the front entrance of the tent and with the rain unremittant, we slept the last few hours in the car. It was a new experience but, the memory of wet camping trips were never far away.

We revisited Melacca , which was a lot of fun and Rach had a new experience- a photograph with spiderman! There is photo evidence above.

Rach was in work on Monday but the secondary school had a day off, so we I went trekking, to a place called Gunung Berumbun- why is that all Malaysian place names seem to have a buoyant, playful sing-song feel? It is hard to say Malaysian names without smiling. However, we weren’t smiling on our way up to another jungle waterfall, as we were brutalized by leeches throughout the journey. To be fair, Ben, Matt and I chatted about everything and nothing, laughed and walked about six kilometres and overcame a range of natural obstacles and we did have fun. However, the leeches were insistent, for sure. If you look carefully, they sit (erm, squat) in the middle of the footpath (more of trail of hurdles) swaying, from side to side like a slimy, blood sucking exotic dancer. As you wander by, sweating and driving the legs up the hill, they latch on, and my word, they are seriously hard to remove. An onlooker would have no doubt rolled around in hysterics at the sight of Ben, Matt and I stopping every few moments with shouts of, ‘Bloody hell!’ (no pun) or ‘the little bastard’. When we safely arrived back at the car, I removed all of my clothes to find some of the swines had sucked through my socks and were in between my toes. One was moving southwards from beneath my belly button which thankfully Matt noticed and pointed at as if he were in the film, ‘Bodysnatchers’. The left side of my boxer shorts were covered in blood which was worrying and I spent most of the journey home trying to work out what else the buggers had tried to suck!

By all accounts this is my first serious leech encounter.

Don't be wet! Get under the waterfall! 18-11-22

I woke up yesterday to the pleasing news that folk in China, albeit one small part of China, had rebelled against the madness of the impossible Zero Covid policy that Xi Jinping and his Communist party have insisted upon. Gangs of people running down the street, shouted at police, pushed barriers over that were designed to trap them into tower blocks like animals in a vertical zoo and even turned police cars over to roars of approval. It was particularly exciting as rebellion is not something we see too often in drone-controlled China, where robotic voices call out at you from the sky to return to your houses or flats. Even being out on the balcony is likely to draw the metaphorical ‘wagging finger’ from these flying eyes of the state. I appreciate that I am mixing my metaphors with gay abandon. My apologies. Interestingly, i must point out the humorous image of angry rebels, fighting police and throwing objects at them, whilst still fully masked up. In yesteryear, that would have been a bad ass look for a bunch of anti-government protestors, but now it is a symbol of complete compliance. Though they weren't protesting the wearing of masks specifically, I did think, they would have made a stronger point if they had all flung the face leeches over their shoulders and shouted, 'Fuck you I won't do what you tell me'. 

Here in Malaysia, it is elections time (the previous primeminister is in prison- how lucky was Boris?) And we have a four day weekend (a big improvement on my usual day and a half). So, what are we doing with this gift of time- ‘sitting around planning lessons, marking, sleeping or mooching around Beranang or the crumbling gutterland of Mantin: all activities that some of my colleagues have chosen. No! Absolutely not!

We have purchased a tent, a barbecue for about eight quid and have prepared some delicious kebabs and three delicious dips, including a kick ass sweet chili sauce, and are heading to the beach- Port Dickson, more precisely. We plan to swim, mess about in the dingy and then cook some food whilst we watch the sunset over the Melacca straits. What could go wrong? Well- it’ll be hot, we are certainly not skilled firestarters (twisted or otherwise) and the ominous clouds coupled with the weather report promise a deluge. Undaunted, we will proceed with the plan and, by God, we’ll bloomin’ well get through it.

It is only three weeks now until we jump on another plane to Angkor and it still doesn’t feel entirely real, like I’m living someone else’s life. I never thought that I’d be flying from Thailand to Kuala Lumpur on Christmas Eve either. I’m not sure where we’ll get our Christmas dinner from- maybe we’ll just eat Nasi Lemak!

Last week, I went on a school trip to a jungle Homestay, which are very popular here in Malaysia, called Janda Baik. Though tiring and even though I had to go without beer for the entire four day trip, I really enjoyed the experience. The highlight for me was the river walking which concluded with an all out splash war with the students. I didn’t come out too well but it was hilarious. The amazing thing here in Malaysia is that if you get wet, it doesn’t matter. Years of British life has programmed my CPU to panic if wet and outside without the means to dry myself; whispering ghostly voices of ‘you’ll catch a cold’ or ‘make sure you dry your ears’ call hauntingly from the mist but here, it is still 31 degrees and the cool off is simply a welcome relief.

I was also lucky enough to swim under a jungle waterfall, which was invigorating and I didn’t really want to leave. Trekking through the jungle was a new experience and the trees and plant life so complex, dense and different to anything I have seen before. Bamboo or similar tree structures are everywhere; with one place looking like a cathedral of thick bamboo canes, all twisted together, making a roof structure, as if made by human hands. The leaves in the jungle are enormous, often bigger than a human and the flowers, exotic, vibrant and bright. The trek down the hill after the waterfall stop was hair raising as the mud path was slippery and hazardous. In the UK, you would not have been allowed to walk here due to health and safety. Guess what? We survived. All of us. Miracle eh? Perhaps the jungle gods thought well of us or admired our bravery. Nevertheless, I will point out that out trip leader Bernard fell over three times to booming guffaws from me and high pitched shrieks and giggles from our Year 8 students.

And so, we push on through to the next break, the next adventure and the next opportunity, that we continue to devour, as readily as rice, out here in East Asia.

Writing from Utopia and looking forward to the Promised Land- 28-10-22

3 weeks have soared by, majestic as an eagle and I have been in flight and hovering so much that I haven't updated the blog at all.

This last week, we have been enjoying the paradise Island of Langkawi (Lang meaning Eagle in Malay actually- incidentally) and it really is lovely. There will be the compulsory and inevitable travel blog of course but I am delighted to report that I am currently sitting with a couple of wonderfully cheap beers overlooking Pantai Cenang beach. The sunrise is due in a few moments and it is stunning.

In all honesty, the week and a bit before this holiday was tough. I was finding my A level planning challenging and working far too late at times, but it was only a week and a half before utopia. Last week, I experienced my first parents' meeting and although the response from parents was fantastic, the whole experience was draining. Almost five hours of constant chat with no breaks and no food or drink. It was almost on a par with my Santa gigs from another lifetime.

My classes continue to be delightful however and the more passive ones are slowly coming around to my style. I am really enjoying my teaching here in Malaysia and if I was honest, the biggest fear, threatening to hang like the chains on Jacob Marley's ghost, is the thought of this ride coming to an end. My fingers, my toes and all extraneous objects, literal and metaphorical are crossed.

So, in two days we return to the life at KTJ, which has continued to be quiet but comfortable and I'm sure we can hang on to December the 10th, when we head out to Angkor Wat, the promised land.

Yin and Yang October 5th 2022

So how is life so different these days? I apologise immediately for the slightly pathetic topic sentence opening. I guess I’ve been working with students on conventions for far too long. Contrived as it is, and a little bit embarrassing, I have been wanting to compare our life in Mantin, or more precisely Beranang (a small village) and Tashkent for a few weeks. So, here I am, after a lot of waffle and terribly clunky writing, about to do just that.

Thus far, I have not seen the paranoia of Uzbekistan, here in Malaysia- the fear that the colour red might somehow cause disease or that air cons left on are dangerous. No cleaner, (and thankfully there are far less of them) has raced across the staffroom or my classroom to close a window in order to protect us from the evil breeze attacking us from the outside world. In fact, students here never ask for the air con to be turned off, unless 'said' teacher has forgotten about it, set it at 16 degrees and left it whirring for the whole day, transforming the classroom into a refrigerator.

So, what of the students? Here at KTJ, they are supremely respectful and, on the whole, more so than in Tashkent. That said, many of them are passive, to the point where I have to ask students to speak, directly; there are times where your classroom can begin to resemble the sort of atmosphere you might expect to experience in a morgue. If the air con has been on all day, you might actually think you are in one. Despite this, I am noticing, like all students, that, if you care and persist with your active lessons and create a risk free learning zone, the characters start to blossom. It just takes a little more effort here. The A level students, in particular, are phenomenal learners, and surprisngly well read: understanding global politics, history, culture and nuance like no students I have ever worked with, except for my exceptional A level Literature class in Uzbekistan (you know who you are) who I will never forget.

So, what of life in the community? Oops, I did it again. Leading topic interrogative. So clichéd eh? It is quiet- very quiet, with palm trees lining the foreground of everything and mountains protecting us all from larger, crowded civilizations. The school building resembles a 1930s American plantation, think, 'Gone with the Wind'. The only place to get a beer that you could even attempt to walk to is the golf course, and they close at 7.00 ish. In Tashkent, we could grab (no pun intended- this is the name of the taxi app in Malaysia) a taxi to a range of restaurants, bars and cafes. Here, you can drive into Mantin and go to one or two very pleasant, rough looking restaurants although between 6 and 7, you’d have to queue because of the traffic into Mantin. In the other direction, you can drive to Eco Majestic- a modern shopping and residential area –without a cash point! Some things are similar. That said, the Chinese food here is phenomenal and economical (that is an understatement).

It is great to be driving again and we have seen some fun on the roads. There is far less beeping of horns and the piloting of vehicles is usually more sensible. You will still have undertaking about as often as overtaking but the drivers are more laid back. If you are of a nervous disposition, the bikes and scooters may cause a mild panic attack, as they shoot by on both sites and sometimes directly across the front of your car, swerving all over the place as if tempting Allah to send them to the next world. Like Tashkent, parents place their children in mortal danger: I’ve seen women feeding babies whilst hanging off the backs of bikes and children almost street surfing in vans or with most of their torso out of the sun roof. In Tashkent, it was all about ignoring seatbelts but here the risks are far more eyebrow-raising, if not any more dangerous.

Malaysia is, like Uzbekistan, an Islamic country. We hear the muezzin far more often and more clearly here; a huge percentage of women wear headscarves and the governement claims to be a religious state (though only operates as one for Malays- who must be muslim, by law). In essence, Malaysia is much stricter and Islam is very much more apparent and obvious in everyday life. That said, there is religion everywhere here: Hindu temples, Daoists, Chinese Christians, Buddhists and others. In Tashkent, religion was present but hardly noticeable unless you went searching for it.

The social is far less here than in Tashers and I do miss it, more than Rachel. We have spent more time together, which is great and our relationship has certainly improved since coming here. Nevertheless (oh bloody hell, I’m dropping the connectives in now) I do occasionally crave the time at the old haunts and a few cheap beers with Rich or Steve or whoever else was out. Despite this, we regularly travel to the beach and Rach took the dingy out at the Blue Lagoon, Port Dickson, on Saturday. Water- certainly the sea, was impossible in double landlocked Uzbekistan.

It was hot at times in Tashers but it’s always hot here- yet the humidity doesn’t offend or stifle me as much as I thought it would. In fact, I like it. The rains come down in torrents, as stated in a previous blog and the storms are immense, like gods fighting in the sky (there’s the hyperbole). I don’t know if it is this tropical weather but folk seem well balanced- like the ying and yang of the sun and the rain has permeated its way into their DNA. There is certainly less aggravation and without a doubt, less staring. People here, who usually speak English, do not gawp as they did in Tashkent. In fact, I haven’t even witnessed too many vague glances of interest and I know Rachel has found this far more comfortable.

What does all this mean? Well, I’m drinking a little less; I’m socializing less; I’m driving more, I’m spending more time with Rachel. On balance, I’m probably in a better place and that’s before the travelling begins…

Oh no- I dropped the ellipsis finale in too. So sorry.

Wrapped up in the comfort of a Malaysian Blanket 25-09-22

It isn’t always sunny here in Malaysia but it is always warm, like you have a cosy blanket wrapped around you eternally. You feel safe- comfortable, as if nothing bad can happen; as if you can clear your mind of litter and dark thoughts and focus on the next new experience. I mean, you don’t book flights to Langkawi Island every day of the week but that’s what I’m doing now and I suppose there are worse ways to spend a Saturday evening. I have a beer for company too! This is now the new excitement: looking at the calendar and rubbing our hands with glee at the thought of the next excursion. Only last weekend we had an Exeat (a word I had never heard until I started working in a boarding school) and we drove to Melaka, a place that has been impacted by the Dutch, the Portuguese, the British and of course the Malaysians. I will be completing a full blog on this weekend but suffice it to say, that Rach and I had a lot of fun and were not all disappointed as we ambled through busy streets and wandered with wondrous eyes around the diverse temples before swimming in the sea and eating the delicious, fiery food.

Malaysia has continued to provide sensory firsts for us both. Not least, the wonderful Tom Yam sausage!

We have settled well into a routine, which always begins with Rachel confidently driving us to work, with the mountains in the background and the exotic palm trees lining the open road. This morning, the cloud was low lying and almost sat at ground level: a beautiful snow-coloured mist, like something out of a horror novel- King, Herbert et al. We work diligently during the week (especially now Rachel is teaching Year 2) and we cook nutritious, flavoursome food in the evenings. Our hump night Wednesday routine has made the transition to East Asia, although the current destination is less salubrious. We usually frequent the Mantin food court, a café style eating area, aligned with about twenty different food stands, though all of them are populated. The seats here are a Bird’s custard yellow and are made of frail plastic. However, there are beautiful Chinese lanterns that glow as the sun sinks and it is open air- save for the very necessary canopy above.

A couple of weeks ago, we parked the car next to the food court, only to be greeted by a lady, crouched down, bottom fully out, weeing happily and seemingly without shame in the middle of the car park, in full view of the town. When you gotta go, you’ve...well, gotta get your arse out in the middle of a car park. Later that night, whilst we were in good spirits and chatting with a couple we have befriended out here called Rich and Amy, we were dangerously close to a chap who had some serious ‘beef’ with a very small and nervous looking Chinese fella. In fact, at one heart-stopping moment, after slapping him round the heads and banging his table so that his food vomited itself across the table, he pulled out a knife and threatened to stab the chap. I was a breath away from getting involved, but thankfully, the pale face victim left, with his tale between his legs. I have no idea what he had done- perhaps he deserved it.

I said routines- the aforementioned moment wasn’t one.

On Sundays, we like to pick somewhere to visit and tomorrow we are off exploring with some friends to the centipede temple. It is a nickname, principally because of the enormous plastic centipede that, from the photographs, seems to adorn one of the dominant walls at the entrance.

It is quieter here in Beranang- our little village; rural and peaceful but with a lot less drinking and socializing than when we lived in Tashkent- at least thus far. I sometimes miss the groups and the spontaneous trips to a pub, but it is probably far better for me and the school itself is wonderful. It is set in acres of wonderful grounds, with squash courts, an outdoor swimming pool, football and rugby pitches, a spacious and well-appointed theatre and more besides. This week I did a duty in one of the boarding houses which was fun and I was startled by the discipline, good humour and respect that all of the boys showed, not just to me but to everyone and each other. A group of sixth form boys (around twenty five) were preparing a flash mob ( well- a dance really) and between enforced Prep (homework) times, they did nothing but practice and practice. One young man, a natural born leader strutted the moves, controlled the low level inattentiveness and commanded respect with the clap of his hands. Not bad at the tender age of seventeen.

Whilst the boys were doing their homework, or prep, I shook my head in bemusement at what I had witnessed: seventeen-year-old boys committing fully to every dance move, however feminine (and they were) whilst periodically pausing to analyse their performance. They listened to each other with respect, gave their all for each other, seemed oblivious to any potential embarrassment and just threw themselves into it. I can’t imagine that in the UK. In truth, I taught at state comps and this is a posh place but why should posh manifest itself like this? I’ll have to muse on this one for a lot longer and come back to you.

It is two weeks now until the next Exeat, when we get a holiday for the King’s birthday. The UK had a day off because the Queen died and we have a holiday because the king gets a year older. That’s why I love royalty! The pound in the UK continues to plunge deep into muddy, mold-infested waters and our new Prime minister is faced with the task of resolving atrocious, super inflation, insanely high energy bills, whilst also needing to improve the mood of the British people. It will be quite a challenge. In the mean time we will watch from afar, enjoy the warmth and splendor of this exotic place, whilst the UK falls into depressing winter. Let’s hope the sun comes out soon, for them.

Eastern Sensations- and a whole lot of monkey action! 11-09-22

It wasn’t the heat or the smells; not even the food that struck me first about Malaysia. It was the sounds. 

Every morning I wake up to the sound of a whispering helicopter humming above my bed. On one morning, I jumped, half asleep, almost to dive for cover, before realising that it was the calm whirring of the fan.

You must have the fan on; it is essential survival.

You must have the fan on at a maximum of level 2.

If you put the fan on at level 6, there is the real danger that the house might lift off as if we were in a sort of East Asian post-modernist Wizard of Oz. Then, there is the muezzin, five times a day from the local masjids, though nowhere near as extravagant or contrapuntal as the thrills and trills, arpeggios and close harmony of those competing performers in Istanbul. The geckos click and clack like locusts flapping against their own wing casing but with a duller, deeper pitch, as if the same said locusts have been sitting in a bucket of rain for a few days. OK- not very clear (Rach was no help).

On my first night here, I walked around our estate of Pelangi Heights, in the blackest darkness listening to a disturbing noise, emanating from a local house; as deep as Barry White, and regular, with a gobbling sound at each mini-cadence- like a bassoon making love to a baby turkey. Then, there is the thunder- deep and prolonged cracks in the sky that sound as if a giant is repeatedly smashing its fist against the walls of the house.

With the sounds, come the smells and the tastes- the freshness of recent storms, marinating the enormous person sized leaves; the food courts vibrant with multi-cultural cuisine, pungent with spices and promising delicious flavours; the occasional smell of sewage, in the towns, that passes and is replaced immediately with the fragrance of flowers. In one of the malls, I was also taken aback by the greens on sale, with as many as twenty or thirty different types of bak choi alongside four or five varieties of asparagus or mushrooms that look like they’ve been made for pixies; dainty bites for small mouths. Then there is the exotic dragon fruit (one of the more recognisable fruits), the durian, that smells like sick but is possessed of a juice that is deliciously sweet.

And then come the sights: a monkey sitting just outside the beach resort of Port Dickson, 'playing chicken' with the cars, who beep at him with increasing desperation, as he drops a paw or two, mockingly, on to the road and sometimes its ass- actually 'mooning' at them, before pulling away as they pass.

Our first monkey sighting, only twenty or so minutes earlier was immediate, sudden and casual as you like. Rach and I were wandering back from the beach to find the car when it just walked across our path, as if it were out on a Sunday afternoon stroll before a sit down in the pub. Rach yelped briefly with excitement and pointed. I made a similar, though obviously more manly sound of curious bemusement and the monkey looked up with an expression of disdain; paused and continued on its way.

The plant life here is lush, and fulsome and fed by the plentiful rain that falls in torrents on an almost daily basis; warm and wet; somehow refreshing and yet never leaving you cold. The next-door neighbours have a banana tree; we’ve seen coconuts (green ones with shiny skin) and even pineapples growing bizarrely like spiky cabbage patch dolls from the centre of the foliage.

Then there is the beach where everyone is covered up- hundreds and hundreds of people, men, women and children in full clothing (women with head scarves), throwing themselves into the angry, and it has to be said, Neptune-style waves, with gusto; riding on banana boats at speeds that would make your cheeks sink in and generally having fun. Only two men on the entire beach were topless (both Hindus, I think) and then me. I had never felt so self-conscious about taking my top off to swim in all my life. Once again, I was presented with an experience that one can only get from travel- the feeling that what you think is ordinary, normal, right even, is blown out of the water (unintentional pun) and you are left in the minority, feeling like a prick.

I have strolled into malls here to see hundreds of mannequin heads lined up at a market stand with head scarves- which I found strangely alluring-not the sight of many plastic women’s heads lined up of course. I am not that weird! I know this is absolutely not the point, but I do find the scarves that most, though not all, women wear, attractive; perhaps exotic to me. Ironically, this make me stare a little more than I would normally.

We have been to a Taoist temple where we saw the site of a giant monkey god, standing on one leg astride a hill, protectively, looking into the distance . This statue was silvery gray, but painted and I think around a hundred fifty feet high, with bright red boots, golden socks and what looked like a red dress. It reminded me of the character of Monkey from the legendary series, ‘Monkey Magic’. This temple, standing in a green landscape of mountains and exotic jungle trees, is colourful, with fish swimming in ponds, beautiful Chinese style roofs that form stunning decorative parallelograms and rooms where incense burns and people find their spirituality. The temple is another first, (my first Taoist temple). The alliteration works doesn’t it?

Despite the exotic and eastern charm, there are comical moments such as the Disney-chique etched into the statues of animals, which the children jump-on and parents take photographs for their Instagram or facebook posts. The best example I saw of Chinese eastern tradition-meets commercial-Disneyland was the dragon, inside a turtle shell, pulling a cart full of pearls, jewellery and oddly shaped, very bulky catholic cardinal hats and yet the sum of its parts looking like it had been fashioned by Pixar’s design team.

The sensations of Malaysia have so far been fascinating and I haven’t even managed to find my way into Kuala Lumpur yet, save our brief arrival at the airport. We are both excited about what there is to experience next and on Thursday, we head to Malacca for three nights. Exciting times ahead and we are, of course, hoping for some more monkey action.

Proudly Sitting, Terrified in the Waiting Room- 16-08-22

Georgia would be proud of me this morning as I tap away on the laptop in a coffee shop in Loughborough, with a large flat white beside me, waiting to be sipped. I am proud to say that the cliched box ticking that we all speak of these days has been completed for this summer and now there is little else to do but try to enjoy our last few days in the UK.

It has been beautifully warm for some time now and despite a severe weather warning, dad and myself with some guest appearances from Georgia and Kyle dared to step out into the light of the sun and walk. You heard it right. We walked, when the sun was out. Some (even friends of my dad) thought us foolhardy, perhaps insane, that we could consider such rash, dangerous actions. Yet, staggeringly, we survived. I jest, of course, and am prepared to admit that many brits lapped up the sunshine, this time, without complaint.

This walk was in honour of my brother in law, Alan Palfreyman, who sadly died only a few days after our last long walk together and so there was a slightly sombre air in the space that existed between us on day 1. Kyle, was working late on Thursday and could only join us from walk 2 (the longest this year). After a quiet start, Dad and I waxed lyrical about gender identity, politics, religion, history alongside more pointless pastimes, like when he used to collect the registration numbers of cars, when he was a child. It was this conversation, particularly, which led into more insight as to how the world has changed for young people. Dad and I strolled from the City of Dan, in Whitwick (a street) through many of his old boyhood haunts. It was fascinating to hear of how he and his young friends, had once wandered casually around the neighbourhood, often several miles from home. The woods and the sweeping fields we strolled through, were once teaming with gangs of children, climbing trees, playing sword fights with sticks, tig, hide and seek and many more and yet now, not a single child in sight, even though we were firmly within the grasp of the summer holidays. We mused how there was no real reason why children shouldn’t be here, that there was no palpable difference, in terms of risk to their health and that the only real change was the increased number of cars on the road. No surprise that people used to collect number plates registrations!

Dad and I managed just under twelve miles on day one and ended up in Shepshed before walking back to Loughborough via the Garendon estate and about four pubs, including two in Shepshed. Dad also showed me where mum used to live, something I didn’t know and how he used to wave at her from the jitty behind the house before leaving, when my grandad wouldn’t let him stay. Apparently, dad’s hair was far too long.

Day 2 was a monster 18.3 miles walk along the river Soar and through the Watermeads, to Leicester. Georgia joined us on this day and Kyle was back with the chaps as well, so the dynamic was different. In truth, it was hot, but the conversation and scenery distracting us from any feelings of discomfort. I started the walk badly, with my mind ‘full of scorpions’. I sometimes find myself worrying about impossible things and even planning for eventualities, years ahead that will almost certainly never happen and that is when my mind is most unkind. Thankfully I shook off the anxiety after an hour or so and was blown away by the beauty of the river pathways. Later, Rachel picked Georgia up and they went out for a lovely meal and the three lads went for a gorgeous meal at the wonderful Keralan restaurant, Kayal. I heartily recommend it if you are ever in Leicester. Dad paid the bill which was kind and we bounced back on the Skylink.

On day 3 the boys could think of little else but sustenance at the pub and so we only walked five miles or so before stopping for lunch. This time we strolled through the old limeyards, once a hive of industry, sweat, tears and hard work and now a place reclaimed by the Earth: old tunnels and arch ways, tram lines and the like, lovingly wrapped in nature’s arms. Dad certainly knows how to plan a walk and at 71, can still walk more consistently than any of us. At home and after a few beers at the Swan, Kyle took out the cigars he had purchased in honour of Alan and he and my dad smoked together.

Several days before this. Rach and I visited Hunstanton and stayed at our first Airbnb, in Kings Lynn. Only 40 pound a night and what excellent value- the owners Sara, a nurse and john, a gardener, who were fortunate enough to own a three storey Victorian terrace, with several spare rooms. Rach and I travelled to Salisbury for our anniversary last year but the beach beckoned this time, as this was the only box left to tick this summer. We had fish and chips, played crazy golf, paddled up to our knees in a surprisingly warm North sea, and ate in a converted 16th century barn. It was a lot of fun and we topped it off with a trip to Norfolk Lavender and Rutland water.

So now, it is three sleeps before we board the plane to a new life. Almost all of our jet setting international teacher friends are already proudly posting photos of their new houses and their new lives and we are sitting proudly in the adjacent room, waiting for the 'new' to begin. We’re both terrified.

Another Late Night Musing...07-08-22

It is late again. Rach is asleep and my parents have also scaled the wooden hill to Bedfordhsire. It is strange how no matter how hard I try not to, I still feel the need to come alive at night and enjoy this quiet space, in the wee hours. There is something about the way my brain works and about when my creativity seems to spark and fire. Maybe the nostalgic vibes of Marillion songs are helping ignite the energy.

Today has been the first relaxed day for a while and I haven’t left the house; this has been pleasant to be honest. Yet now, as bed time approaches, I realise, of course, that another day has passed and I am one closer to the inevitable jaunt to Mantin, Malaysia. I know I go on about this a lot but as each day passes, I do find its stronghold on my brain becoming more autocratic. In fact, I can barely get through a few hours without feeling forced to think about it. I have contacted a potential car rental company, sent several questions to my buddy (a person they have set up for me to ask questions of) and pawed over maps of the local area. Rach seems to be disappointed with the accommodation which appears smaller than she thought and there is virtually no garden but there is a decent balcony and many staff from the school also live in the area, known as Pelangi heights; sounds like something out of Dynasty to me.

We have continued to keep ourselves busy over the last few days, and last night I managed to make a brief appearance at my cousin Valerie’s wedding before nipping off to see my old mates Ady and Vimit, for a few beers in The Swan. It is great how every time we meet it is as if no time has passed at all and the banter flowed as smoothly as ever. Next year we hope to get away for a weekend to somewhere like Stratford.

In the middle of the week, Mum and I spent the day in Leicester visiting key sites and some wonderful free museums, as well as Leicester castle. We had a lot of fun and in the evening, we had a delicious curry at an award winning restaurant, a minute or so from the Curve Theatre. Afterwards, we raced of to watch Billy Elliot, an in house production that was superb. I think it might be the best musical I have ever seen and whilst there are shows with better songs, there can't be many that pull on the heart strings like this one. The famous song, 'Solidarity Forever' is a 'must see'- get it on your bucket list! The choreography and clever use of space is stagecraft of the highest level. Brilliant!

Rachel and I continue to live the high life over the summer whilst the country tries fruitlessly to free itself of the tentacles of recession that have seized hold of it in recent months. Energy bills are up by 54 per cent, interest rates are up and inflation is at its highest levels in forty years. Life in the UK looks bleak indeed and there is a genuine sense of dread as to who will be the new primeminister- Sunak or Truss. Yet, we have had plenty of cash this summer and time to do as we please which has been wonderful for us.

This weekend, Kyle, myself and my dad (along with Georgia on Saturday) are heading out walking, including a sixteen miler on Saturday. This is partly in honour of my brother in law Alan, who died last summer, shortly after the Stainsby walk. I sometimes cannot believe how quickly time has travelled and I begin to think about the year ahead, where we are unlikely to see our wonderful children. Sometimes, I well up and feel a heavy guilt that weights me down, but I know we have to go and do this and not regret our later years. We have no idea how many we have left and we must continue to seek out opportunities and fun. I am still terrified and increasingly so but we will push on and ensure that we have fun. It really is the only aim for atheists such as ourselves.

New firsts- 02-08-22

It's been another first for me today but not a particularly exciting one. I am currently sipping tea (that's not the first obviously) waiting for the National Express to Loughborough from Birmingham. In almost forty eight years, I had never used the National Express and only related the words to the fabulous Divine Comedy track of the same name. It is actually an excellent service and on the journey from Oxford to Birmingham, there were only two passengers. The driver was a chirpy fella and we had some banter about the need for free accessible WIFI for everyone in all establishments, without the need to set an account up, or give your post code, phone number or some other, frankly, perrsonal information just so you can use the internet for a few minutes over a cuppa or a pint.

Speaking of pints- I did have a lot of those in Oxford yesterday. It was inevitable, as I travelled there to meet up with Gareth and Mark- two seasoned and expert drinkers, even though Mark drinks rubbish lager most of the time. I hadn't seen either of them for around two years but what is always interesting is how quickly everyone just falls back into the old ways, and how good friends can be away from each other for a long long time and yet nothing really changes. The conversation flowed as easily as the beer, and it was great to meet up with Gareth's nephew, a young (well 34) self-confessed marxist who loved to debate, chat and laugh about the world. All in all, we had a great night.

I was most pleased that my legs managed to propel me around the streets of Oxford to be honest, especially maintaining the pace generated by Mark's loping long-legged stride. Not least because only two days ago I was standing on the summit of Snowdon, having my photograph taken with my niece Leah (we were the first of our group to make the summit). If I'm honest, the climb wasn't what I'd hoped for, as the ghostly fog had descended and whilst this created an ethereal atmosphere that was worst experiencing, it did obscure all views of the valley below which was a shame. The climb up the Llanberis pass (the M6 of Snowdon) was harder than I thought, despite proclaiming to be the easiest route, which I am sure it is. That said, I did feel a great sense of achievement and Emma and I have agreed to climb Ben Nevis next summer.

On returning from Snowdonia, we settled in for the european women's football final, which England won, making this the first international tournament any England side has won in my life time. Kyle partied hard in a pub in Sheffield and had a great night out describing the experience as 'unforgettable' and I watched it in the calmer, more relaxed environs of my parents' lounge. This was a fabulous result for England, for women and sport in this country and it was a big improvement on the huge disappointment of the men's final last summer.

The media have lapped up every moment of the journey of course, insisting on forcing the word Lionesses into almost every sentence. This has had a domino effect, as almost every social media post from almost everyone also includes the word Lionesses. I don't have a problem with the word, as it is meant to refer to the bravery of our sporting combatants, which is laudable, but it is all very contrived. I wish they'd just say England sometimes. I think it is to enforce the fact that these are women succeeding in sport, which is great, but we have folk saying we shouldn't use derivatives such as 'actress' and say 'actor' instead and yet in this case, 'Lioness' is ok. Strange quirks.

On the 23rd, we had the fourth Linden theatre night, and once again proceedings begun with my performance of a monologue (this time from Othello) which was not faultless but I think I got away with it. It was the first Linden theatre night without Alan and obviously poignant but we had a fun time, with Emma and Marika (her new and first female partner) playing a flute duet version of Three Ravens, and Rachel singing Nick Kershaw. There were the usual poems galore and we had two new guests, my cousin Ian and my second cousin, Morgan (she has a lot of talent). Both of them seemed to enjoy their first experience of the theatre night.

So- with less than 3 weeks before we head to Malaysia, we are approaching a major pinch point and another first- a trip to East Asia. Both Rach and I are seriously nervous, anxious and still excited about the next part of the journey. I have a tightness in my stomach that seems to be telling me to prepare for some steep learning curves and some struggles ahead.

Squatting at Tescos- 20-07-22

They scurry around like termites, the customers of Tesco, as I sit here in the cafe forcing down another cup of flat white, most certainly out of boredom rather than any real need for a caffeine hit. Here, everyone is very busy, no doubt grabbing essentials for tonight’s dinner, forcing down some pastry or other ‘brown food’ before rushing back to work or simply pepping up their routined lives with a treat or two. It is rare that I get the opportunity to spend so much time watching people; chuckling at their disappointment as they notice that the fridges and the whole freezer section containing the pre-packaged meals are broken.

So why am I here?

A good question. I am approaching twenty four hours in London, or more specifically, Walthamstow and Leyton. It seems I will be here for quite some time, as Rachel has contacted me and explained that the train she was supposed to get at 2.30pm is now not coming and that there might be another one at 5.30pm. This would be a mild disappointment if there hadn't already been two previous cancellations! The first train from Rotterdam was cancelled yesterday. By all accounts, there were no explanations, no apologies and initially, no information given as to what passengers should do next. Eventually, they were told that a train would take them to Brussels and that Eurostar would pay for a room for the passengers. This train did arrive. Big cheers from the weary victims- I mean passengers.

However, Rachel's search for a room in Brussels was a bit like (and I'm sorry to offend any religious folk) Mary and Joseph's search in Bethlehem. There was no room at the inn! After much searching Rachel did find a hole to bed down in and though not particularly pleasant it was probably better than a barn. She was promised there would be a train in the morning. This train was then cancelled and she was told it would be 2.30pm. This train was cancelled and she was told it would be 5.30pm...I await news with sensations of serious doubt.

The reason for this chaos is still unknown but there are rumours that it is something to do with the weather. It has been hot- for sure- almost touching 40 degrees here in the UK for the first time in recorded history and Europe has also had its fair share of the heat wave, but trains not able to run? In truth, there are stories of fires on lines, trains breaking down in tunnels and the sun warping the metal lines. Apparently it is also the heat that has broken the fridges at Tesco's; they were broken in Loughborough too and the press reports Aldi and Tesco's closing multiple branches due to the heat's attack on fridges and freezers all over the country. Schools closed, trains cancelled (I might have mentioned that...grrr) people staying at home and having time off work, whilst the government had an official COBRA meeting to survey the dangers caused by the heat before issuing a red warning, 'Extreme risk to life'.

It does inevitably beg the question, how do other countries seem to avoid this chaos when they are regularly experiencing these temperatures? In Uzbekistan it is well over 40 degrees for around two months, certainly for six weeks. Nothing really changes. I hear and accept the point about air conditioning- (we aren't set up for the heat) and it is true that I have had two nights where I might have sweated about six pints. However, I survived; I drank more water and it was uncomfortable, nothing more. We have to adapt...surely. We can't blame this level of hysteria and failure on air-con can we?

The press, of course love the sensationalist stories, such as the shots of a house on fire in East London, purportedly caused by the hot weather, but I'm pretty sure that there have been houses on fire in East London throughout the year- possibly even in winter? Yet, it sells news when everyone is puffing and panting and sighing their way through the day, as they cope with heat they aren't used to. It fits their grumpy, complaining narrative. It becomes a story everyone is interested in and of course inflames further (and I think relevant) debate about the environment and global warming.

These fridges then?

I don't think fridges in houses broke- they are run by electricity? Correct? How does a few degrees of heat stop electricity running down a cable? Or is it the machine itself, being too hot and over heating? I don't understand these things and I have heard it might have something to do with the compressor being overloaded- but I'm pretty sure fridges work in India, Africa, Saudi Arabia? I am confused about the whole thing. Today, it is in the mid twenties and the fridges are still broken. Why?

As I am squatting here in Tescos at the moment, I have needed to use the little boys' room. Without question the most disgusting toilets I have ever seen and I have travelled in India and Central Asia. Both toilets full to the brim with human faeces, blocked and almost over flowing- the four urinals full, splashing a fine blend of urine across the floor. This was true at 9.00am and was still true at 2.20pm. I did mention it to staff but no change. Surely the toilets aren't broken because of the heat are they?

Anyway, I sit and wait in Tescos, wondering where else to go, and hoping that I hear good news from Rach very soon. Last night I slept on the floor of Georgia and River's place but they've gone to work now and I have no access to their apartment. I have the car and so need to be somewhere I can park it and my phone has limited charge. Soon enough I will become uncontactable. I guess there is always Georgia's floor again, if I need it or else I could continue to squat here. It is open twenty four hours a day.

Part 1: The Good- 14-07-22

There is the slightest breeze drifting into the apartment, which is a relief, after the intensity of the hot weather we have been enduring here in London at the moment. The clouds have dropped a protective hat on the whole place and it is really rather pleasant. Not at all serene of course, as peace is interrupted by a seemingly endless bin run, the beeping of horns and of course, the sound of police sirens.

We have been back in England now since June 25th and thanks to careful planning and the kindness of our guests, we have had a lot of fun and never been short of a place to stay. So, what has been good? Salt and vinegar crisps, mature cheddar, good old english ale, and of course seeing our loved ones. When we arrived in London, Dad met us and within moments we were batting along the A50 towards Loughborough, a can of jaipur in hand and big, tired smiles on our faces. The journey back had been relatively smooth and it was a great feeling to know that we wouldn’t be heading back to central asia any time soon. To make things perfect, mum had prepared us cheese and tomato cobs and we were soon sitting in the Swan with an Elsie Mo, feeding greedily (well I certainly was).

What else has been good?

We have been able to cook some great meals, help our son move to a less rat-infested abode and of course, catch up with friends. We also managed to have a good evening out with Kyle, playing pool and eating vegan. After a night sleeping in Kyle’s new house, Rachel and I headed back to Chesterfield, where I was able to meet up with Graham, David, Sam, James, Mairi and Steve (though not all at once) and tick many more boxes- a game of badminton (the knee held up) a curry house, several wonderful real ales at the Ale House and the Chesterfield Arms, a walk around Hardwick and Holmebrook Valley park, and a good old chinwag with Mairi and Steve, who it seems are, like many others, very keen to come to Malaysia. Rach also caught up with Jackie and some old work colleagues. I even found time to sit and eat a scone (short ‘o’ sound) and sip some english breakfast tea: I always find this comical, as I’m pretty sure tea doesn’t grow in the fields of England- not in Yorkshire, or anywhere else!

I drove to Oxford (it was great to drive again) to see Angie. We had a lot of fun and made plenty of jokes, as well as wandering around beautiful historical buildings and eating tapas. Oxford is a lovely town and almost identical to Cambridge with a river and punting, historical bridges, university buildings from centuries ago and more bicycles than you can imagine (less than Beijing of course, as one singer once told us, but maybe more than Cambridge).

London has been a hoot for the most part, with a fabulous evening in a jazz bar last night (my mum and dad came up as well) a stunning meal at Stem and Glory to celebrate Georgia’s masters and of course, the graduation ceremony itself- wonderful!. Georgia has done so well and makes me proud every day. We have also found time to have a picnic by a lake, eat at a fabulous vegan curry house and visit landmarks such as St Paul’s, the Golden Hind, London Bridge, Whitechapel (the 10 bells pub) and a whole range of vintage shops.

We have walked a lot- controversial to include this in the ‘good’ section but I think it has done our bodies a lot of ‘good’. We walked eleven yesterday and that is the lightest walking day so far. On Monday, we marched sixteen (just trying to keep up with Georgia). Today has been relaxed so far as Georgia is at work and Rach and I have taken the time to rest. That said- the sun is over the yardarm, and actually peeping out from behind the clouds, which is very 'good'.

Time for a 'good' old pint of beer.

Part 2-The Bad- 14-07-22

Last year, when we returned to the UK, I remember writing a blog entitled, ‘Underwhelmed by My Homeland’, which sounds quite depressing and bleak. This time I wasn’t. I felt something slightly worse- nothing. Don’t misunderstand me. I felt profound emotion when hugging those I have missed and those whom I love but the place itself, other than the pubs (I am not an alcoholic) did very little for me.

So, what was so bad?

Well, after ‘bigging up’ how things work better in the UK, compared to Tashkent, I was disappointed to find that the first toilet I used at Manchester airport was broken- the door wouldn’t lock and the seat itself was smashed. I also noticed that in sharp contrast to Uzbekistan, there were hardly any staff at the airport and we mused at the equally baffling incompetence of both countries, from hundreds of staff working at the speed of asthmatic sloths or generally hanging around, appearing to do nothing in Uzbekistan, to the UK, where there was a single member of staff for the entire baggage collection area. What was also, ‘bad’ was when we tried to get a trolley for our not inconsiderable luggage, before discovering that not only do you have to pay for the privilege but that the electronic release system was broken. I asked the lone, and it has to be said, embarrassed member of staff what we should do and he explained that the trolleys were run by another company that weren’t on premises- micro- privatisation in operation. In all fairness, he did lend us his own trolley but only when pressed (not in a torturing sense).

I mentioned the hot weather but, as expected, there was at least some rain on each of the first eleven days of our time back in the UK- at the height of summer and what makes this particularly 'bad' is that this is normal. In fact, Brits are happy if the sun pokes its arm out for a little grope once in a while. I’d forgotten about this subdued, though ever present optimism seemingly providing the sub-text, to every conversation over here. When the sun did finally come out, it did cause much consternation, principally because there are no air cons here and whilst the temperatures in Tashers do get up to 40 plus, one could always retreat to ones homes and wallow under the air conditioning’s expelling coolness, like a hippo at the waterhole. However, in the UK, it is hot outside and even hotter inside, which is definitely ‘bad’.

I am loathe to include the next event in my ‘bad’ section but as I am no longer able to have a pint with my brother in law, I simply have to see that as ‘bad’ and so the day where we buried Alan’s ashes was a reminder of what a terrible tragedy we had all faced last summer. The reason why I contemplated not including this moment is that it was, once again, a wonderfully evocative, personal and natural send off for him and anything but ‘bad’. Dad had arranged for the shanty folk to come and sing and I played a sort of ad hoc master of ceremonies in what was a relaxed and not at all formulaic way. Leah and Kathryn planted a cherry tree and we placed Alan’s ashes in the ground. It was a glorious day of warmth, filial support and love. Even the sun shined down for the whole proceedings without being too warm. It was the perfect send off but I will always miss him.

I don’t wish to dwell on the sad or the 'bad' as I know my friend Leanne would be annoyed especially as her catchphrase is ‘no bad days’, but I cannot leave this short blog without mentioning the huge rise in energy prices and, of course, fuel prices at the pump. Fortunately, Rachel and I are currently lucky enough to have a small nest egg for the summer but I have been gobsmacked by how quickly money disappears from sight in this country and the young generation, in particular, are tearing their hair out: huge student debt, for some, rising house prices, super inflation and energy prices set to rise again in October. I spoke with my father who said when he was 20 (which is when he bought his house) a family with one worker could expect to be able to buy a house without too much difficulty with houses being around 2 to 3 times an annual working person’s salary. Now, even in the midlands, a terrace will go for six or seven times a working person’s salary. This is most certainly bleak and very ‘bad’.

Part 3- And the U...nknown- 14-07-22

So as I contemplate the five weeks left before we head out to East Asia and attempt to digest the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’, how do I feel about the future?

In truth, I am frightened, nervous, hopeful, excited and uncertain about everything and nothing. This can be overwhelming at times but at other times, I can disconnect and feel totally relaxed. My friend Mark often paraphrases Bill Bryson and how he once wrote that one of the best ways to feel alive is stand on a street where you don’t understand what people are saying, where the food is unfamiliar, where the customs and traditions are exotic to you and where you have no idea where to go or what is happening around you. I get that. I really do and he is right but the knot in the gut will be present for sure and the bum will be squeaky as hell.

Today, I said to Rachel that although I didn’t want to wish time away, I would actually be happy to step back into the classroom and start teaching new students- I think I am eager to start building new relations with pupils and thinking of new ways to teach new texts. That is exciting to me. However, I am nervous about taking on a large department that is, no doubt, still recovering from the covid years and the frustrations we all felt at this time. I guess I want to impress and to help and to establish myself and that is nerve-wracking.

This time I will have Rachel with me when we move which should mean that we can support each other as we try to understand how everything works, be it phones, internet, transport, money, banks or whatever other unknown jumps out of the shadows. We will both, of course, be sad to leave our kids in the UK for what might be a whole year, as tax rules restrict us coming back at Christmas but inside my sternum, there is a little spark of warmth and it is growing into a bright fire. I know we have to go and do this and something tells me it will all work out. Let’s hope my optimism isn’t misplaced.

5-4-3-2-1- Teacherbirds are Go!- 18-06-22

5-4-3-2-1 Teacherbirds are go! Or they will be. 

This might be the last time I write a blog whilst still in Tashkent and I am imbibing a fruity red, bought for me as a present from a colleague in my department. It is dark in the lounge but there I have some mood lighting and am listening to the lively music of John Ireland- his London pieces for piano.

It has been thirty-six degrees again today and we have spent most of the afternoon sitting in bars or by the canal enjoying several beers. I enjoy being out as time seems to fly a little more and I am super excited about the prospect of seeing my homeland again, or at least the lovely people I know, who live there.

The process of almost leaving has been a slow one but with a week to go, the end is finally in my clutches and I have allowed myself to let the emotions take charge. Last week the year 6 students performed their end of year show, ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’, a show I was asked to come and help rescue about three weeks ago. It is still surprising to me how quickly I can become invested in a performance and I was so pleased for the students when, despite how it had looked a few days before, they ‘pulled it off’ and delivered a great performance.

It was during this performance that I experienced the casual aspects of hierarchy and elitism. I didn’t like it at all. One of the president’s children was performing and one of the family (not the president) had come to watch. All the parents were gathered in the theatre and there was an aisle down the centre (an aisle the cast were using for stage entry and exit points, at times). Instead of blending in with everyone and being a ‘normal parent’, he clicked his fingers to one of his strapping bodyguards- there were about four, with ear-pieces in and tooled up- who came rushing over like an eager child, and ordered an espresso, and a table to be placed next to his seat in the theatre. Couldn’t he wait? Of course he could. Did he need that coffee? No, of course he didn’t. Why did he do it? Well, image, and demonstrating his power and status. I hated this and delighted in tapping him on the shoulder (not too obviously, as I didn’t want a bullet in the back of the head) and asking him to move the table to the left, so children could still get in and out.

When I left the theatre, after the performance, the moment was still in my mind and the whole episode was emphasised when I entered Rachel’s EAL room to sit and complete some work on my computer. One of the cleaners was sitting on her phone, presumably after cleaning the room for the third or fourth time that day. Of course, that is no problem to me at all. I said hello but within seconds of me sitting down she jumped up, and scuttled off out of the room as if she couldn’t sit in the presence of her betters. I am not ‘better’ and neither was the apparent VIP in the theatre. People just assume a level importance and it is all about money and rank. It makes my blood boil.

On Friday, we had our leaving assembly where it was officially announced that I am leaving at the end of the academic year. There was a gasp from some students although I thought I’d already told quite a few. The aftermath of the announcement, once the two-hour epic of the assembly was complete, was comical, heart-warming and sad all at the same time. One student asked me how many puppies they needed to buy me to make me stay; a darker promise was made by a more macabre student who said that if I didn’t stay, they would chop up my family and friends and their pets and send them to me on a daily basis through the post. I was proud. Some couldn’t stop coming back for more hugs and others wrote me poems, songs and speeches. One class performed a class goodbye with heartfelt messages saying I was the best teacher they had ever had. It was overwhelming to be honest. I rapped them a reply, ad lib, which was less than impressive but they seemed to enjoy it.

The most emotional moment was speaking to a young, and talented student who played a lead role in the school show this year and who had blossomed as a performer this year. She wrote me a five-page letter thanking me for everything I have done for her. I wept when I read it.

Although you can always tell if you are getting along with your students you sometimes forget how much you can mean to them and how, as teenagers, they are so susceptible to feeling emotions more intensely. In that moment, you can be everything, but of course, that will pass very quickly and so it should.

I left school early, which was important as I needed to recover before compering the year 13 prom. As is usually the case, I end up being chosen to speak at these events and, in all modesty, I can get through it relatively unscathed, so I suppose that is why I keep getting chosen. However, despite my willingness to give it all a go, I genuinely (and colleagues find it hard to believe this) don’t like it anymore. I tend to become extremely nervous and though I am able to control the nerves, the tension in my body makes me feel ill. That said, the event was a huge success and one colleague said to me, "I don’t know how you manage it. You’re so natural. I’d be way too nervous” and also, “You should be on TV”. If only he knew…ha ha. I’d probably spontaneously combust if I was on TV.

After the event, the students ate from a posh buffet and I had a couple of well earnt pints before sitting with some colleagues and taking some time to breathe. The year 12 students had decided to make some games for the year 13s and there was no disco which made a lovely change. One of the games was called ‘Among Us’ and is a craze online. Another was called, ‘Guess my crush’. The staff marvelled at these excellent young adults and how, despite being eighteen and about to leave school, they were all extremely happy to be playing games and the way they interacting with each other, without any teacher intervention, was outstanding. The whole moment was in stark contrast to a prom in the UK: no one was drunk, or trying to sneak substances in, and there was nothing remotely sexual, beyond the game, 'who’s my crush’? These were young people, embracing the innocence of youth and it was a delight to see. Many will head off to universities in the UK, so this might be more than just an academic education for them all.

And so now, the final days of working at the British School of Tashkent are dawning and I am really looking forward to the next challenge. 4 more days of students and I can truly relax.

5.  done

4

3

2

1

GO!

Living the best life we can, whilst wishing time away-12-06-22

We sauntered around a superb art display in Kosmanavtlar park this morning after a delightful and very tasty Quesidilla at the very pleasant Chaykof café. It is a wonderful time to live in Tashkent- with the sun shining (perhaps fractionally too hot) and the bars and restaurants beckoning you in for beers, or in this morning’s case, mango smoothie.

I find myself drawn more and more to art exhibitions as I get older, and certainly appreciate the genius of the ideas of the painters. One of the pieces I particularly loved was of a steam train, racing through the desert and the steam forming the wonders of some of the iconic buildings of central Asia, almost as if the train was personified as dreaming of this wonderful place. I lingered by this painting for some time.

We took some photographs and then walked down to Broadway for a beer and a chill inside, where the air con was thankfully very powerful. Rach and I chatted about a range of issues and laughed together at the recent trend of people posting pictures of themselves with the phrase, 'Living my best life'. So, with only two weeks left in this country, we are trying to do that just that. Ha ha.

Last week was fun and I organised an after party for the We Will Rock You crowd. We played some crazy games, introduced them to the Okie Kokie, ate pizza, sang karaoke, danced and revelled in the time we had together. It was wonderful to see the students so animated and happy and one young man almost made me cry when he said to me, “Thanks for this year sir”, and then, “You just get teenagers”. I guess that I might be in the correct profession.

Yesterday, we had a fabulous pool day for the combined birthdays of Leandi and little Storm (2 years old) at the relaxing Mymori. This place stands in central park and is a ‘proper’ holiday like pool place, with a gorgeous and interestingly shaped pool, two flumes, a couple of bars and surprisingly tasty food. We sunbathed, swam, drank at the pool bar and relaxed. I even found time to read through some of my old poems, most of which, I thought, were terrible.

It is only two weeks now until we head off to the UK and get the opportunity to catch up with folk. We are both very excited and even though we are virtually there, it still somehow feels like an age. I know it isn’t, but the waiting is painful. Rachel had a spell of ill health last week, when her urinary infection moved to her kidneys. It was a scary time but she seems to be coming out the other end relatively unscathed. She has decided to never drink wine again and I shall certainly support her with this.

I have continued to develop my ‘dirty habit’ of speaking to ill-educated people online, which I know I need to stop, but in my down time, it is sadistically great to pull up morons on their ridiculous, extremist views. It is also hilarious and I always remain polite. Always. I was humbled by one chap in the US who was attacking me vehemently regarding my suggestion that US gun laws, in the wake of the recent mass shooting were in need of alteration. By the end of our debate, he actually thanked me for the calmness of my debate and apologised for his overly passionate defence of his views and his country. He even used the phrase, “I know what you say is correct but it is so hard when it is what you have grown up with”. Respect to him.

We have had a few issues with Rachel’s visa and due to her not having a degree, they have to re-advertise her job with a new title. It is apparently all about ticking boxes and ‘playing games’ but it adds a little stress to our move, which up to now was looking good. My fingers remain crossed and I try not to let it invade my thoughts too much, whilst I'm living the best life I can, whilst wishing time away. It isn't quite as catchy is it.

My Fizzing Stomach- 29-05-22

The sun is beaming down and the temperature ranging between a pleasant twenty five and a slightly naughty 29 degrees. What else is there to do but a pool day? So, here we are again, at the Grand Mir- a four star hotel (2 star by ordinary standards) in Tashkent. To be fair, the pool is lovely, a little cool today but not freezer-like. It is a quick dip only and then into the sunshine with a beverage. Today it is beer that we sneaked in from the local Piva Pelican establishment.

There are almost no customers but staff are everywhere, flitting and scurrying around the place looking terribly busy and yet there doesn’t appear to be anything to do. It is a skill. No one has offered us food, a beer, even a menu but they are certainly busy doing something- mainly picking things up and moving them from one place to another without any obvious reason.

Another week completed and here we sit on a Sunday, my stomach fizzing slightly and it isn’t the beer, as we await the arrival of Monday morning. I am not excited about it. The students have largely ‘checked out’ now and though, as teachers, we have to push on, I am finding it hard to motivate myself. All my ideas seem inadequate and it is quite hard to close down a year especially as now that Uzbek state schools have finished (they get a 3-and-a-half-month holiday) many of our students tend to drift away. This year, we are not doing end of year exams and this sometimes keeps them at school a little longer to ensure their end of year grade. I have completed the reports so there isn’t anything else for me to say. I hope, they do drift away, as sad as it sounds.

On Friday we had the summer fair and ironically it rained (either side of this day- glorious sunshine) although it didn’t seem to stop the kids having fun and fighting with water. I was very lucky as I didn’t have a stall and so, once I’d shown my face, I was able to hide in the darkened EAL room where no-one seemed to find me. We went out for a quick drink afterwards, around 6.30pm but didn’t make a huge night of it, as we haven’t been paid yet and the coffers are running very low indeed. Normally we are paid on the 25th but it seems that old habits die hard and the disorganisation and inconsistency of pay dates has returned.

My visa for Malaysia has finally been ratified and Rachel’s is likely to follow very soon and this is a relief especially after the fuss we had with ensuring the right background colour for our passport style photograph. I have had a little time to contemplate the new job and the realisation that I will have almost twelve staff working under me next year. This is slightly daunting and I feel the expectation level will be high, as they haven’t had a regular boss for a while. As far as I can see they are back in school now at least after the madness of the covid regulations and that is certainly something to be thankful for.

Summer plans are complete and hotels booked for the various trips though I have just realised how much money we’re planning to spend this summer. Let’s hope the summer is a long one, full of fun, memories and excitement. But until then, my stomach keeps on fizzing.

Like another chalk mark on a Prison Wall- 22-05-22

I was dragged out of bed by a croissant this morning- not an ordinary one but an almond croissant and a delicious one. I don’t mean that the croissant somehow gained life and animation, walked into my room (would a giant croissant walk? Is that the most suitable verb?) and pulled my pathetic frame from the bed. Not at all. I mean the thought of the croissant or more accurately, the thought of eating it lured me into jumping out of bed before I otherwise would have done. Wow- I’m not sure where my mind is at the minute.

Outside we have another funeral and once again there are days and days of prayer and contemplation and many friends and relatives sitting whole day vigils interspersed with occasional prayer. It is fascinating, as it was last year, but just like then, they have set up their event right outside the exit from our flat and as before we have to wander awkwardly through the grievers every time we go out. This time, they’ve even erected a giant gazebo, presumably because rain was promised.

When it came, it was more of a storm than rain, with strong winds, lightning, thunder and a heavy downpour. Rach and I will need to become accustomed to these conditions when we move to more tropical Malaysia, where the downpours are almost a daily occurrence. We had gone out to grab some grub so that we could make a nice spread back at home, rather than eat out but detoured to go and look at the Rakat mosque, which stands only a stone’s throw from where we live. They have been working on this mosque and developing it ever since we have lived on Belariq and no doubt Covid limited their progress a lot but the exterior is almost complete now and it is glorious- a huge, stunning building with two extremely high and elaborate minarets and eight brass coloured domes- it might be brass- I do not know. All of this, to be found in the middle of a housing estate. It is far too glamourous a place to be built here and needs its own grounds so that people can visit and pay homage to the skilled hands of the people that designed and built it. As we approached the shops for the grub we wandered happily in the warmth with huge droplets of rain falling upon us. We both loved it but we received some very suspicious and baffling looks from the locals who were hiding under trees and shop fronts for cover. 

The time seems to tick by ever so slowly at the moment and we have just finished ten days teaching in eleven days which was a grind but I think the valediction I spoke of last time is less about ambivalence now and more about perseverance. It is strange to not be part of the planning for next year and feeling that you are slowly disappearing from view. Students continue to ask whether we are leaving, I have relinquished my HOD duties to my successor, and I am counting my lessons off, (particularly the ones with difficult classes) like the chalk marks on a prisoner’s cell wall. This distancing yourself from a job or place can make you feel like you have given in or are disinterested, apathetic perhaps but I also feel that it is an absolutely necessary part of the process. When you leave a school, a country and a life of sorts, it can be a colossal jolt and the shock is hard to bear but if you spend a month or more slowly extracting yourself and your influence, then the moment of the end is more of a tremor than an earthquake. But- it is certainly dragging. The show is long gone and the reports are complete- there is a parents’ evening this week, the inspectors are in and we have a summer festival on Friday. Once this is all done- we will definitely be in the exit room.

In other news, my son achieved a first in his dissertation and my daughter managed to get herself a new job which pays better and is more in keeping with what she wants to do next. I am so proud of both of them and cannot wait to see them, once they open the rusty gates of the Uzbek cell.

The Ambivalence of Valediction 08-05-22

I’m feeling somewhat ambivalent this evening. We have just returned from a 40th birthday party with beers, wine, a beautiful outdoor pool and thirty-five-degree sun beating down upon us. The crack was good and I don’t mean drugs by the way. Nevertheless, after some fairly irrelevant small talk and banter, conversations kept drifting almost inevitably towards the same question, ‘where are you going next year?’ or ‘are you ready for the move?’ Obviously, we are super excited about heading to Malaysia and in previous years we always felt like the unlucky ones who were staying here in Uzbekistan. However, there is also a strange melancholy within me which I can’t quite understand. I am not sure if it the thought of moving away from friends, the sense of the ending of another part of our lives or perhaps the tinge of fear that must come with such a big move.

We left early for us and Rach was tired so she’s gone to bed. So, seeking catharsis as always, here I am, tapping away on the keyboard. Seven weeks to go and the sun is shining all the time at the moment. My exam classes have finished their lessons and are on their exam leave and now, I have a lot of time to think and contemplate (though I do have to write 167 reports!) This time of year is certainly more sociable and last weekend we had a lovely barbecue at our good friends Kayleigh and Callum’s house before going to Baba’s (Alex) first birthday party. Steve and Shaknoza put on some lovely food and I have to highlight the delicious cauliflower steaks. Wow! I was going to focus on this moment of the week and call the blog ‘Barbecue Beef’ as it was hilarious and a little cute to see the subtle psychological alpha male struggles between two of our friends, both convinced that they know more about barbecuing than the other: one claiming that the small barbecue was too hot and would burn the meat, whilst searching everywhere for bricks to raise the grill and the other making snide remarks about how last time his companion had bought the wrong meat (stewing steak) and didn’t know as much about barbecues as he thought he did. Wonderful first world problems. Both of them love each other by the way and all is good but it was fun to watch. We ate, and lolled about in the pool, which was lovely, if a touch cold on first entry. Yesterday, we cooked pasta bake at Steve’s and didn’t get out of the pool until a quarter to midnight. Like I said, a sociable time of year and today’s birthday bash has sealed the deal this weekend.

Tomorrow is Victory Day here in Uzbekistan and so we aren’t in work, which is very pleasing news, especially as Monday is my toughest day of the week. So, what of the coming seven weeks? To be honest, and maybe this is actually the answer to my slight feeling of melancholy- it is hard to motivate yourself to reach high standards when you are leaving and when you know you are going to have to let go- telling some of our students will be very emotional indeed and I’ve put it off for sure. We are both killing time, waiting for the summer and yet knowing that wishing time away is never a good idea, as I stated in my previous blog.

Our ticket to the UK is booked for the 25th June and as usual, we are really looking forward to seeing everyone, but the valediction will be a trial for sure.

Nearly Time to Close the Curtains- 24-04-22

The night before another term at work is always an odd one: after two weeks away from work and this time, the country, one feels a sense of nervous anticipation about the return, a mixture of dread of the approaching pressure and strange delight in the knowledge that there will be new challenges.

This one is poignant indeed.

Our last in Uzbekistan, a place that has been my home for four years and Rachel’s for three and a place that gave me a new lease of life at a time when I was at my lowest. It will be tough to say goodbye to some of the students, particularly in the glory of post-show bliss. The final performance of We Will Rock You exceeded all of my expectations and the outpouring of joy and passion from the students on both nights was greater than any I have seen before. They were huddled together, hugging and screaming, singing and crying and bouncing up and down in collective elation for what they had achieved. I have tried to understand this. I have seen delight in the triumph of completing a show before but never this level of exultation and it was very difficult to get the students to leave afterwards. As in the past, the pleasure for me came with standing back and watching their euphoria and their camaraderie.

Last night Rachel and I were out in town searching out a restaurant when we were accosted by a gang of the cast, out for a birthday celebration. They ran over to us and were keen to chat and laugh and have fun. Their humility and kindness still overwhelms me at times. Our trip away was perfectly timed and allowed the students an opportunity to get the show out of their skin. It always takes a while but I can usually dispel it more quickly these days and a trip to Istanbul (post Rachel’s birthday- it was her birthday on the last night of the show), Croatia and Montenegro, allowed it to disperse all the faster. A blog on this trip will of course follow shortly. I promise.

What was perhaps most fascinating on this trip was the changes regarding covid and the restrictions we have become all too familiar with. On Uzbekistan airways no one ever does as they are told anyway and so it was no surprise that despite being a condition of carriage, nobody bothered with their masks and once we arrived at Istanbul, we were only asked by one person to put our masks on (about 40% of people including some staff were not wearing them) although we ignored them and nothing more was said. It is, as usual, when the masses or a considerable group of people simply stop doing as they are told, that the regulators or those charged with enforcing the rules simply give up. There is, of course the repetitive message that drones across the airport every ten minutes: “For your safety, always wear your face mask and keep your social distance”.

It is a strange, muddy and asinine period , where people, including the staff, want to move on but are not sure how to suddenly stop the measures; so for a short while we have to suffer the futile and fatuous. The truth is that very few people have their heart in it anymore. On our flight to Croatia, we didn’t wear masks at all and although they were a little stricter on our return flight from Istanbul to Tashkent, I succeeded in not wearing a mask for the whole journey. There is the comment at the end about leaving in rows to enforce social distancing which is also ignored and I think, always was. It is madness in truth as all of these people were rubbing shoulders in queues for coffee, beer, sandwiches or to show passports for the two or three hours prior to the flight so to suddenly say we should leave the plane and socially distance is 'lip service' on a colossal scale. Time to move on. The world just needs the East to follow suit. China will of course do its own bizarre thing but we have our fingers crossed about Malaysia and all of the countries we are keen to visit in that part of the world.

It was wonderful to see mum and dad again as we all know that time is rushing along and each moment we get together now seems to matter more.

And so to the last term: nine weeks of struggling through, enjoying the sun, sipping beers with friends outside endless bars and saying our farewells to people we have shared many great times with. On one level I am desperate for the time to fly by, but the tick tocking only means life is ebbing away. I have learnt not to wish time away. It will pass soon enough.

Writing out the Illogical Panic- 02-04-22

I have spent most of this evening dealing with the rising and unnecessary anxiety of changing a mobile phone. I say ‘unnecessary’, as I am ‘not’ currently in the market for a phone and so this is more of a fear of the future, sending my mind into a gaga state. Sometimes, my brain does this to me. I am usually relaxed, spontaneous and not at all a worrier (well?) but I have an annoying habit of throwing myself into a world that doesn’t exist yet and think about a small detail and become obsessed with it. Well, for a day. Tomorrow it will disappear. Maybe sooner…

My fear, in short, is that I might lose contacts, photos; not be able to log on to sites, have problems with apps and the like. I imagine it is quite a common fear for old fogies like me but it grabs hold of me sometimes and my imagination runs ahead, imagining the worst-case scenarios.

Nevertheless, today has been a good day and this week, which, in truth, I was dreading, has been a great week. My innocent, excitable and inspiring cast have lifted me with their impressive performances and I have to admit although I am still wary about telling them yet, this is going to be a cracker of a show! My lead vocalists have really picked their game up and the dance sequences are outstanding. Thanks Ulrike! I don’t think they’ll be a school in Uzbekistan that will be able to rival the passion that our students are showing. The perfectionist pride in me still sees all of the issues, the imperfections and the little awkward bits that don’t quite work but I suppose that is the job of a director. On Monday, I will be focused on sorting these moments and then, and only then, will I be truly happy. Honestly, my biggest fear is ensuring that the curtains open when they should, as I am the curtain operator. Watch me go and ruin the show I directed.

On Wednesday, we won the quiz despite being the smallest team which made us very happy indeed, although the highlight of the night for me was the spicy Palak Paneer which was delicious.

On Friday, we returned to the local football and it was busy- with tickets now free as Uzbek TV now shows the games and the clubs have more revenue. They obviously need more people in the crowd so that on TV it looks a little less embarrassing. The match was low in quality but Packtakor (the top side in Uzbekistan) managed to crawl to a 1 v 0 win over Namangan. What was perhaps more exciting than the footy was the travelling fans, who clearly hate Tashkent types and were keen to throw projectiles on to the pitch at the end of the game. Earlier they had lit fireworks which certainly lit a fire under the Uzbek police officers, who are clearly used to total compliance. They meandered awkwardly to the area where the fireworks were in full fizzle and then looked at each other, completely lost. The fireworks defizzled, and the initial listless impetus of the police became impotent. The crowd rose up high like a group of bears and the police backed off. When it came to the projectiles, the police just watched.

We left.

Nothing much happened.

And so to this illogical panic- it’s gone. Distraction is a wonderful thing. I do love catharsis.

Hanging in for the hols- 27-03-22

I have just sent about twenty emails on a Sunday. What is happening to me? A keyboard warrior I am certainly not but here I am, my head spinning with scenes from We Will Rock You, 2nd language speaking tests, IGCSE drama practicals, A level lit essay practice, the upcoming COBIS inspection and more. Sometimes this job has so many parts, that you need to make yourself feel better by sharing jobs, thoughts, ideas or even plans with others and thus, the many emails have made their speedy way through the ether to land in boxes all over the city. Well, I feel better for sure.

We have just worked our third consecutive Saturday and next week will be the fourth as the school show looms on the horizon as big as the black clouds that have continued to plague us here in Tashkent over recent weeks. The outlook for the future seems much improved with the promise of 28 degrees day approaching very soon and garnered by this and the thought of two weeks off work, travelling and seeing my parents, I am still smiling.

Yesterday was international day at school and as usual, I was the ‘bloomin’ compere. "You love it though” people tell me when I sigh that once again, I am the ‘go to’ guy whenever there is an audience to present to. I have probably mentioned this before, but often, I don’t love to and often, I could certainly do without it. Nevertheless, the day was interesting enough and the rooms at school, each made to look like a specific country, were impressive (apart from Germany and the UK). Then there was the dance- the beautiful dance interspersed with some tai chi, kendo and even judo (a five times world champion nonetheless, throwing a member of staff all over the place). The two highlights for me was the beauty of the Chinese fan dance with its colour, elegance and strangely titillating moments and the flair and rumbustious clamour of the final dance from Azerbaijan complete with solo moments and stunningly well timed kicks and synchronised movements.

And so what of the world? Covid has certainly seemingly disappeared (obviously not) and no one speaks of it which is fine by me, for sure. The war in the Ukraine causes much consternation across the globe and the price of oil has gone through the roof, with Spanish lorry drivers causing road blocks and dissenting as they only know how. In the UK, the cost of fuel is close to two pounds a litre and now there is a National Insurance hike. War, covid, Brexit and a fair bit of incompetence have been stirred together in the melting pot along with a pinch of arrogance and westernised lust for luxury, to create a stew that tastes grim and bitter. Here in Tashkent, we continue to escape a seat at this particular dinner table and live a very relaxed life.

The Music and the Rains- 13-03-22

The rain pours and pours and pours…

This is without doubt the most rain I have ever witnessed here in Tashkent or indeed anywhere. For most of last week it lashed it down and next week it is set to do the same, with the forecast predicting heavy rain every day until next Saturday. It can get a little depressing at times but we have still had a lot of fun.

On Wednesday, we went to the Uzbek State music theatre to enjoy the wondrous hard guitar shredding of Metallica (a tribute band of course) playing with the national orchestra of Uzbekistan. It was great- tight, loud as it should be and full of flair. I saw Metallica in their prime but I wouldn’t call myself a huge fan and I only know a smattering of their most famous songs- which they did play. Nevertheless, it was easy to become wrapped up in the fervor and the buzz and the underlying feeling, as it was at the Queen gig last year, that everyone was desperate to stand up and bop like crazy but couldn’t quite push through cultural conditioning. As before, it took most of the two hour concert to get to the point where indeed everyone was on their feet for the grand finale of the encore, Whisky in a Jar. I have to confess to being mesmerized by the power of the orchestra, who actually helped to make the music even heavier than the legendary guitar based metal band are normally.

Outside the venue there were a few of a dying breed of mask sellers who I am glad to report were being ignored by most people. It is no longer a requirement here in Uzbekistan to wear a mask by law and thankfully common sense seems to finally be prevailing. Although, we are still wearing the face leeches at work and I am truly ‘cheesed off’ with the damn things. I saw a student eating a snack on Friday and realised that I had no idea what they looked like. It feels so terribly non-human. I don’t like it.

We enjoyed some beers after the gig and chatted it all through which was pleasant and a distraction from work. I get irritated by that, ‘out on a school night’ concept as I don’t see anything strange about that- after all, there are an awful lot of school nights. However, it was great to do something fun and sociable mid-week especially as it was a little different. There is a similar gig- this time Pink Floyd- in April and we very much intend to attend that.

Yesterday, we had to work a Saturday to make up for the international women’s day that we didn’t work on Tuesday. I don’t remember ever having to make these times up in the past but it was actually fine and the students were on good form. Teaching was particularly fun as there were a number of troublemakers away, making the lessons more enjoyable for students and myself. We have a tough week next week with two parents’ evenings and a Saturday rehearsal for the school show but after that we have three days off for the Navruz festival so we are ‘hanging in’ for that. In other news, I am now obsessed with the music of Steve Wilson which I discovered after seeing a link from the new Marillion album An Hour Before its Dark.

While the rains come down, I’ll just keep listening and bobbing my head up and down in admiration.

26-02-22- The Positive Light is still shining

I feel old this morning and every time I sit in a certain position, my body seems to seize up so that when I stand and walk I look a little like an extra from a zombie film. Last night, I was up all night with issues of the bowels which I won’t say anymore about, but it has left me sleepy, cranky and feeling a little sorry for myself. Maybe a coffee will help but I don’t remember that being part of the BRAT diet that I should certainly be following.

It’s been a tiring week with lots of cover at work, numerous safeguarding incidents, a few challenging students and show rehearsals that have had me tearing my hair out in clumps. That said, it might help, as my hair is now in full pony tail and I don’t think it really goes with the rapidly expanding bald spot that seems to be working its way across my head.

The main news of this week has been the absence of Covid in the news or even in discussions around school. The reason- Russia have invaded Ukraine, upsetting NATO and no doubt countless Ukrainians who wonder why their relatively steady lives now must be thrown into turmoil. It is strange to live in such times and there are certainly echoes of Hitler’s provocation that led to the outbreak of the second world war. In truth, despite the economic sanctions that countries have agreed to place on the Ukraine, I don’t believe other countries will do a great deal about it as the dread threat of the boom of nuclear warheads hangs ever present in the air like an explosive sword of Damocles over the world. The posturing continues but I think Ukraine will be thrown to the wolves. The question will be what happens next? If Putin gets excited and starts thinking that he could take back other soviet nations, then some martial decisions may have to be made and then, we really could be in a world conflict.

I don’t think this will happen but no-one ever does do they?

It is a week since Rachel and I were jollying across parts of Georgia, sampling the fine wine and decent, though not consistent, food and basking in the history and culture (travel blog to follow, as always). It was a much needed getaway and with only six weeks to the next one, we are hanging in at work, hoping to survive what seems set to be the busiest term I can remember. The plan will be to jet off to Venice via Istanbul and then to Podgorica- it will be wonderful to see mum and dad again and I know we will all have fun- unless fly zones become banned because of the escalation of this war. Still, I am thankful that I am not going through what the poor Ukrainians are having to endure.

The highlights of this week have been the quiz, which I hosted with my friend Nick and of course, the currently weekly pool matches. I was terrible this week and couldn’t find any consistency with the cue action but I managed to battle my way to some victorious tight black ball finishes. These have been diminutive little tasty morsels in a week that seemed interminable at school and so they’ve kept the positive light shining.

Lucky Us! 06-02-22

The Turkish bath at the Grand Mir hotel in Tashkent is definitely one of my favourite winter spaces. The steam arrives in jets as you sit and look up at the tiled walls, decorated with arches of azure and emerald tiles over which hang exotic mini-lampshades formed of multi-coloured glass and looking like something a maharaja would wear. Moments like this make me think how little the world has changed and I am sure that across the world and for thousands of years people (almost certainly wealthy) have sat in such places- be it the romans, the ancient ottomans, the greeks or the egyptians, enjoying a spa day.

We are so lucky.

I have said this many times in my blog but last night both Rachel and I indulged in a wonderful Japanese meal starting with sushi and ending with a more European cheesecake for me and an oozy chocolate torte for Rach. This morning it was breakfast at the quaintly titled ‘Tim’s', which is not as nerdy sounding as you might think. In fact, the place is refreshingly contemporary but rooted in the traditions of Eurocentric coffee shops. After granola and an almond croissant, we walked a mile (through the rain) to the Grand Mir hotel and here I am sitting by the pool contemplating a sauna.

It’s been a decent week and the weather continues to be staggeringly good for the time of year, despite the rain today, with the temperature rarely dropping below 8 or 9 degrees and usually sitting in the low teens. The school show is coming along nicely and the tickets are in full production which is great and I have now completed all of the tasks apart from a comprehensive medical, for my next job in Malaysia. Rachel has been in great form and even my talent for poetry, if I ever had one, seems to have returned, after a descent into the generic. Life is good.

We have five more days of work to bash through and a relaxing Sunday evening with Moroccan food tonight and probably a glass or two of cognac. Next Saturday we are off to Tblisi and the tickets are well and truly booked so its just PCR and off. I am looking forward to blogging about somewhere else and particularly about visiting the birth place of Stalin, the legendary Gori. It will be great for me and Rach to have time together and to unwind before the slog through to Easter.

The world seems also to be recovering with the Omicron variant causing almost zero damage and more importantly, some major powers, led, to be fair, by the UK are removing or have removed all restrictions. The domino effect has begun and now others will decide that to compete in the global economy, they too, will have to move on and learn to live with the virus. Of course, there is still the lunatic fringe, led by China and, in part, espoused by the antipodeans, but travel is likely to become much easier. Let’s hope the luck continues.

Kazakhstan You Very Nice Play-26-01-22

It was precarious indeed tonight as I ventured out into the dark streets of Tashkent armed only with a small ‘pound shop type’ bargain torch, bravely in search of a booze shop. The peril is hard to overstate and a person with lesser wits might never have returned: huge holes in the road, broken pathing, ditches and concrete bobbles galore hidden like bear traps in a forest. I wonder for a while what a time traveler might have thought of this scenario as the bright yellow white eyes of cars cut through the polluted haze with lazer-like determination and growling with metallic aggression. If this was a person’s first experience of cars, it would indeed be an unsettling one, as packs of them, strangely more than normal and not moving any slower despite the lack of vision, prowled the back streets, like predators. At the sides of the roads, short throw glows from similar torches to mine and the occasional phone brought ghostly shapes into view of pedestrians sheltering in the shadows before they faded, safe from the night monsters and then swallowed by the darkness.

So, apparently, and this may simply be hearsay and who knows the genesis of an urban myth but some major power station or large power source for sure, in Kazakhstan, has failed and as a result, most of Central Asia are now without power. Worse still, it seems that when this power grid or whatever is broken, we do not get data on our phone or a network signal, meaning communication is down almost entirely and most peculiar of all, no water (odd as I didn’t realise water had anything to do with electricity). The combination of the two, being frighteningly dangerous after all. Thankfully, the candles provide us with adequate light in our lounge and it is quite pleasant to be honest. The alcoholic shop was doing a roaring trade and was seemingly the only shop still open. When we are deprived of the devices we are addicted to, what else is there to do but drink?

This evening, we tried to run the first act of the school show, with no music, lights or mics and, in truth, the students were fabulous once again, proving that they will not let these constant interruptions prevent them from their moment of success. Last week, they were forced home with new and frankly laughable Covid regulations as we were forced to teach online and now, the largest power cut in Central Asian history: wagging fist angrily at a God I don’t believe exists still makes me feel better. Perhaps more frustrating is that I was supposed to be interviewing a young man to be my deputy at my new school, KTJ in Malaysia. I feel totally helpless and illogically guilty as I had no way of contacting him to tell him I could not conduct the interview and so I have a picture of him sitting there on his laptop, shaking his head with his bottom lip protruding, probably thinking he’s done something wrong.

Tomorrow, Rachel has a meeting/interview with the new school and as the evening blackness persists, I begin to wonder whether she’ll be able to attend and worse still, she has no way of letting them know. Last week was relaxing enough and the weather continues to be mild indeed for January and with only two and half weeks to go and the prospect of a day off tomorrow (would the power being off be worse?) there is a lot to feel good about.

There is always next week- 16-01-22

Some people can’t shut up!

They don’t perceive how boring they are!

Narcissism lurks in their blood.

I know I like to talk but I am at least sociable I think, yet here ,as I sit once more in the irish bar of Tashkent, I am faced with the challenge of zoning out such a one as aforementioned. In this case, he is a german business man (medical, I think) and he has simply not stopped talking since he arrived and his poor colleagues (four of them) look terribly bored.

It’s been a great weekend and yesterday both Rach and I attended baby showers. The men folk ambled on down to Steam bar and the ladies to Florya. After a couple of hours however, half of the women gatecrashed the party, citing boredom and a lack of booze as a reason.

By the way- the german is a surgeon. He won’t shut up! I hope he talks less when he is operating.

On Friday, we played pool and today, Rach and I had a little walk and some brunch at Tim’s. It was delightful, despite the rain and it was lovely to see Rach on good form again. She has been transformed since returning after Christmas.

Last week, it was announced that we were going back online for the forseeable future- though they weren’t prepared to commit to any sense of timeline. It was three days but now it is all of this week too. In some ways it is less pressure, with students not being there but I want you all to imagine what drama teaching online looks like.

“show me your angry face kids!”

“Grrrr”

The german has dropped into his ‘mother tongue’ now but he is equally annoying.

The covid numbers are rising here in Uzbekistan but bars remain open, as do restaurants, whilst schools remain closed. Clearly the priority isn’t education. Sure- get drunk, laugh be merry but make sure those children stay dunces. In Kazakhstan, there have been riots, and police have been shooting citizens. This is big news and Uzbekistan are certainly twitchy- some say they are keeping students off school because of this; some fear that attacks may come at any point. You must remember, of course, that this is a country where people must apply to the government to protest- somewhat defeating the point of a protest.

The german guy is fine now- he has his face stuffed and the conversation has moved to sport and footy, specifically. Liverpool have just scored and the bar erupted. The love of British football in this pub is incredible especially as most of the clientele are locals. They love the premiership but they have no interest in their own grass roots football. This is saddening, but in keeping with one of the problems this country has: a sense of inferiority coupled with a lack of pride. Rich and smart young people flee as soon as they can, looking for more money, and a better life. It is like football. You can make home grown talent but you don’t benefit when that play is drawn away by the big books and the promise of fame and sunny days.

The german is relaxed now- no longer annoying and it’s half time, so the heavy rock music is back on and is comfortably drowning out the sound of his voice.

So- as I look ahead- there are four weeks to the break when hopefully Rach and I will head to Georgia and another adventure. After that, who knows but Malaysia is on the horizon and I am still crossing everything that we can get there.

By the way, I failed with the new fitness regime- there is always next week I suppose.

Bemused by the world but safe in the land of Uz- 08-01-22

We could have been in Paris this morning as we ‘took in brunch’ in one of the posh quarters of Tashkent. Breadly, though expensive, has become one of our favourite places with its warm and classy internal décor and a little bakery that sits comfortably within the restaurant, wafting smells of freshly baked pastries and cakes.

I slept in until 11.30am this morning after staying up watching debates about religion. This has become a bit of an obsession, of late; a fascination with the way people think and why they believe what they believe. I don’t think it’s an existential crisis but as I get older, the way people’s thoughts are manipulated or indeed why people think what they do is of increasing interest. Unfortunately, this is not making for a healthy lifestyle, as I am drinking too much and not sleeping enough. My screen time is through the roof, when it never used to be and sometimes, I realise how many pointless hours I have wasted.

Next week’s plan then:

• Good muesli breakfast each morning.

• Swimming twice a week.

• No alcohol on the nights I swim.

• Sits up and press ups to return to my life.

• A good long walk every Sunday.

• Bed by 11.00pm- honestly!

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Christmas was fun, and it was great to see Kyle and Georgia over the Xmas period as well as enjoy a theme night, dressed as Rasputin- see above! I had a very boozy new year with my sister in The Swan and caught up with cousins. All in all, good recuperation and plenty of fun times including, curry, chips, great beers and wonderful cheeses. There was the unfortunate disappointment but strangely freeing (for my parents) event of my grandad dying, two months shy of is 101st birthday. A good innings for sure. 

Adapting to life post-Christmas has been difficult but Rach and I managed to get ourselves to Uzbekistan relatively easily and despite all of the ‘horror stories’ about travel under Covid, we found the process painless enough. However, the rest of the world is still in Chaos with opinions ignorantly farting their way across the internet and the news. The main issue has been the division of the vaccinated and the unvaccinated- which has come to light most recently, with the deporting of Novak Djokovic (presumably unvaccinated- read the name). In many countries, unvaccinated people cannot visit restaurants, bars, theatres, cinemas etc. However, in Austria, they cannot even leave the house.

I have been vaccinated and we were pleased to grab our boosters whilst we were back in the UK for Christmas. For me, this is less about stopping the virus and more about the need to travel, in a world that makes it close to impossible to travel without the vaccine. What concerns me the most, once again, is human nature and the way a majority turns on a minority with such ease and apparent lack of thought. I am almost certain, that if a government decided to arrest and imprison the unvaccinated, (which the Philippines have suggested by the way) then there would be a huge social media crowd of keyboard warriors pledging their support and possibly calling for the death sentence. It might yet happen. I can imagine it now- ‘They killed with their thoughtlessness and now they must be killed’.

Alongside this terrifying plunge into abominable discrimination, we have countries like Australia and New Zealand, lauded for their handling of the pandemic, whilst many of the citizens have been locked out of their own homeland for near on two years. In Vietnam, an international teacher spent a month in one room and when they were finally allowed to go to their school, they met staff whilst standing in lines ten metres apart. In Malaysia, you now have to ‘wear a tracker’ so that your whereabouts is known at all times. It feels as though governments around the world have lost their minds. Covid is not the only event in town but they seem to want to keep it this way indefinitely and I wonder whether normality, whatever that is, will ever return. If the majority are vaccinated then surely, the unvaccinated are simply taking their own risks. The 11500 statistic of Covid sufferers over Christmas in the UK going to hospital means there are six more people in each hospital. Of course, this is not balanced across the UK and I never trust the figures but it is something to consider.

I think, on balance, it is probably safe and sensible to get vaccinated. My issue, is not the debate about the vaccination (though I would protect a person’s right to question the vaccine) but the way a government and indeed a world can enforce medical care upon a populace. It really is unprecedented, on this scale. It also shows how leaders and people in power can make anything happen, if they use enough propaganda, control the media and remove basic human rights, whilst garnering the support from the baying crowd. The whole debacle is dressed up in health and safety and ‘protect your NHS’ mantra but ultimately, if we accept this, we can accept anything.

To be fair, the UK, has made, in my opinion, more proportionate and responsible decisions of late than many other countries but for me, the worldwide solution to this problem, (which I would never deny) has become worse than the problem and certainly more frightening. So, the question about whether Novak Djokovic is allowed to play in the Australian Open is, in my opinion, the wrong question. The question should be ‘are the rules and measures a proportionate response? I would say no and that they were unnecessarily draconian.

We continue to have it relatively easy in Uzbekistan. Long may that continue.

Anyway, today’s rant over. Tonight, Rach and I are eating at a lovely Korean place called Kim Sat Gat that serves wonderful Bulgoggi- the food is likely to be closer to that we’ll be eating when we go to Malaysia in August )if restrictions are lifted) so it is nice to get the practice. I must admit to being delighted that Rach is now joining me at my new school Kolej Tuanku Jaafar. I just hope they can find her a job. Fingers crossed on that one.

Now- it’s time to make some scones!

Onwards into the Unknown...22-12-21

There is a light glow from the bulb in the centre of the room but beneath it, a fog of memories. I have sat in this space, at 47 Linden Road; the place of my childhood, so many times over the years and whilst I feel a sense of home, comfort and an anchoring to my essence, it is no longer a place I want to remain for too long.

Thankfully, Rach and I managed to navigate our way back to blighty, and except for the usual mad dash across Istanbul airport, it was fairly simple. Tiring of course, as travel always is but loaded with the correct paper work, allowed us easy passage through the various airport and security checks. At Manchester, all was extremely easy and not a single soul checked any of our documents- save our passport, which was, as usual, checked by a machine. Dad picked us up right on time and we were pleased to be able to return and see our families.

I have had two lovely coffee mornings with Georgia and she always grounds me with her wisdom. We talked about relationships, culture, psychology and much more and I was reminded about how much I miss our chats. The inevitable Covid conversation came up with virtually everyone in the UK wandering around in masks again, even outside, and with every news broadcast reminding us of the fatal Omicron. As usual, I discussed my feelings that there appears to be no endgame and that if we simply shut the world down each time there is a new variant, we will be in and out of restrictions until we die. Georgia is less militant than me but neither of us had the answers. And so, we wait for what is likely to be the announcement of another lockdown post-Christmas. Maybe we’ll get stuck here.

Meanwhile, Rachel has spent most of her time had her dad’s pre-Christmas and this has been good for both of them. In truth, Rach and I have struggled over the last two weeks of term and we were very ready for a break and some time away from school and even from each other. It is working though, as when we met up today for a beer and to grab those all essential booster jabs, we had a very good laugh and a chat and our moods have certainly been lifted.

The biggest news is that I have accepting a job in Mantin, Malaysia, just south of Kuala Lumpur to start next August and whilst Rach is unsure as to whether she will stay in the UK or go with me, it has become clear to me from my visit home, that I really must pursue my desire to travel. I will feel guilty leaving my mum and dad who are dealing with a lot at the moment, not least the seemingly imminent demise of my grandad, only two months away from his 101st birthday. I will also miss my kids, as always and our uncertain future continues but the buzz, the excitement and a whole new world to navigate, is hugely appealing. And so…onwards into the unknown.

Santa, a Sauna and Boris Johnson's narcissism! 13-12-21

Santa: done!

Yep- another week has gone by where I played the cuddly Father Christmas twice, once at the Winter Fair and once down at the Primary School over at Sayram. As I have no doubt mentioned before, it is a chore like no other: to sweat copiously inside a fluffy suit and feign constant joy and excitement whilst kid after kid and here, even odd adults, want to chat with Santa and take endless selfies. Still, I managed to survive again- hopefully it will be the last time but I have my doubts.

On Friday night, I compered the school carol concert and it was fun. I still feel overjoyed when I am around performance and when young people battle their nerves to sing, play, act or dance. There is nothing quite like it and I left for the pool hall feeling great.

So, what of recent times. Last weekend we returned to the mountains with Kayle and Callum to a hotel called Avenue Park which overlooks lake Charvak- it is usually a very pleasant view but on this occasion, it was obscured by dust, once again drifting in from Kazakstan, no doubt. Nonetheless we had a fun night of drinking and eating and I really enjoyed the sauna and the plunge pool.

Yesterday, we nipped over to Wendy’s for a Christmas do; we enjoyed mince pies, mulled wine (or mullered wine as Wendy calls it) and some other lovely delicacies. The youngsters also organised a game of Christmas bingo which was fun- the wine flowed plentifully and I was able to take my mind off all the stresses that travel has been giving us of late. Just the simple job of putting my passport details on the airline site has been a ‘ball ache’.

The world is in turmoil again, as ‘nutters’ seem to be making all of the decisions. A new variant called ‘Omicron’, with the apt anagram of Moronic lending a delicious smiling irony, is in town; spotted in South Africa and now in thirty-eight countries around the world apparently and as of yet not a single recorded death. The response: huge restrictions on travel once again, endless PCRs (we have to have six in ten days when we travel over Christmas) and widespread scaremongering from politicians and the press.

It hasn’t helped that within the vortex of this madness, a video has been leaked of the toffy-nosed tory tossers having a party last Christmas when others were forced to watch their elderly relatives die. Don’t get me wrong. I think we should have all have been allowed a party but the hypocrisy is hard to come to terms with and yet, sadly, eminently predictable. Boris Johnson is not a bumbling fool, as some have called him but a vain narcissist, using the people and politics as his little ‘playthings’. His first inclination, like a petulant child is to deny, refuse and try to find a way out for himself, like one of those infuriating, nauseating children at school who you see steal and eat the cream bun in front of your face and whose eyes meet yours in the process but who still flat denies the sinful deed. I despair and it only makes me want to stay out of the country that little bit longer.

I digress.

What we seem to learn from the response to this new variant is that the world may never, ever be the same again. Masks are back, even in countries where they had been removed as necessities, and now people who haven’t been vaccinated are being locked up in their own homes in Austria and Germany.

Intelligent people claim it is a good thing but seem to miss the whole point- the vaccine may well be safe and a good idea (though none of us have actual evidence of this) and we blindly follow the rules. Me included as I just want to travel!

However, it is not the vaccine that is the issue but the casual way a government can turn people into second class citizens- they did the same with gold stars for jews and refusing to serve black people in America or South Africa. It is no surprise that there are riots in countries across Europe as more restrictions come in and people are told to work from home whilst young people have begun to wonder what a human face might actually look like. One day we might just evolve to have a flap of skin that we can pull over our face. That would be easier.

So why will it never be the same again? Well, it is clear that there will always be new variants and most virologists agree with that, and yet regardless of the danger level, we keep halting the rusty wheels of the world. How can it ever be any different? What can the endgame be?

A Whole Lot of Nothing- 14-11-21

My knee is a mess. Yesterday I was walking along the road like Herr Flick of the Gestapo and, yes I did have shorts on, but the incredulous looks from the locals was definitely for the limp this time. Though I suppose my Captain Caveman facial hair and wild man locks didn’t help. I have no idea what is wrong with the knee and I haven’t been to the clinic but it has been months now and is worsening by the day. Next week, I’ll have to visit the docs.

It’s been a relatively simple week at work with little to report but I managed to get out a couple of times in the week and grab some much needed social time. This weekend has been quiet and other than a little trip to the local Italian last night, I haven’t really done anything. For two days in a row, I’ve slept for ten hours and maybe that is exactly what I needed. The weather is rapidly changing at the minute and snow is predicted for next Thursday, so it won’t be long before we’re planning trips to the mountains and getting back on the cable car, I guess.

We finally booked our flights to Paris and ongoing flights to Manchester so that is something to very much look forward to except we have the usual chaos of filling in forms, locators, booking tests, and getting PCR tests in Paris. Uzbekistan is still not on the list of agreed countries for vaccination when countries like Angola are. It seems that any countries near to Russia or associated with Russia don’t make the grade. Political? I think it might be.

I have continued to search for jobs and have had to pick myself off the floor a couple of times, particularly after applying for a job that looked written for me, and then being rejected the day after they received the application, despite the deadline for applications being 26th November. Mr Paranoia says my application was terrible and I’m useless and a waste of space and Mr Confidence says the job has already gone or has been decided and virtually promised to someone else, possibly internally. The problem with every application and this is exacerbated when the applications are for International positions, is that you have no idea what the dynamic in the school is; what they want; whether it will be an internal appointment; whether the job even exists or is simply a speculative, ‘there might be a job later’.

Well, I suppose I better ‘crack on’ and keep on pushing- something might come up and I’ve already expressed interest in jobs in Nepal, Bogota and Jeju island. It sounds exotic; it sounds exciting but right now, it’s just a whole lot of nothing.

Time to Breathe- 07-11-21

Had a fab day yesterday, at Uzferme wine makers, walking through their private vineyard, their impressive garden, which included the Italian circle and the Japanese water meadow. It was lovely to take a moment to breathe, despite the dust storm that ravaged the city on Thursday night.

When I first looked out of the window on Friday morning I was convinced there was snow outside. In all honesty, it was still dark and my eyes, filled with the bleary-eyed pur-blindness caused by another late night watching episodes of 100 on Netflix, played tricks on me.  However, as clarity came into focus, I realised that it wasn’t snow at all, on the ground, nor was it frost but dust. Everywhere.

As we left the house to catch our morning taxi into work, it felt like stepping out into a post apocalyptic world. There were no sounds (it was early I suppose), no people and the air around us tinged with orange, caused by billions of particles of dust. Trees, cars, the ground, all hidden under a blanket of the smut. When we arrived at work, the whole school was covered ; not just outside but inside too-I guess there had been too many windows left open. My own drama space was perhaps hit the worst and I couldn’t breathe in there. Every chair a centimetre or so thick with dust and the carpet covered. It was hard to breathe, as if I was working on a building site- though at least my Covid mask now had validity.

I have not seen this strange phenomenon since being in Tashkent but the locals say it isn’t the first time and that the dust will last for days- I have no doubt about that. There’s a lot of it. A friend checked online and Uzbekistan currently has the worst air quality in the world: so much for breathing easily.

Nevertheless, we are hardy folk and we weren’t going to let a little dust stop us from having a great time at the winemakers and after wandering round the gardens with our tour guide Joe, we were lead to the tasting room, a beautiful upper floor viewing area, with the vineyards stretching out across the countryside. Before we arrived at the table, a vintner, busy in their work allowed us to have a quick sip of a rare wine made with grapes that no-one else in the world uses. The grapes themselves taste of mango- genuinely- and we ate quite a few straight from the vine, initially removing the dust carefully but ultimately just stuffing them straight in. The wine was very pleasant if a little light for my taste.

Once seated, we were treated to five wines and opinions were very much divided. For me, the Riesling was the finest of the bunch although I enjoyed the earthy qualities of the cabernet. After our tasting session, we were allowed to have a full glass of a our favourite one, though one turned into two and even three in some cases. It was all round, a lovely day out and there were perhaps 24 or so of our colleagues all enjoying themselves with a not a single bit of work talk which was pleasing indeed.

Last weekend we enjoyed a fab Halloween party at ours and Rach did her mum proud, bringing out the oft used decorations that Pam made all those years ago. Rach carved out a watermelon for the occasion and made a Crazy lab where people had to thrust their hands into various unpleasant substances and guess, from touch alone what lurked within. It was so creative and everyone seemed to enjoy it immensely. We had a cocktail with eyes bobbing around in it and there was red coloured hummus and cakes with worms on them. The incense and the Halloween mix on the stereo added to the occasion and there were lots of laughs and giggles with the occasional shriek or squeal.

There are now six teaching weeks to battle through before Christmas and we are so excited about our plans this year- hopefully a trip to Paris to catch up with Georgia and River followed by a short flight to Manchester on the 20th to spend Chrimbo with family and friends.

There will be little time to breathe but it’s going to be a blast.

There couldn't be could there? 24-10-21

I strolled out, and I mean that- strolled through the crisp, though very pleasant, autumnal air to the bins this morning whilst Rach was still lazing in bed. Dressed in my shorts and a a dodgy green T-shirt, I marvelled at the huge number of golden leaves covering the floor (considering how much effort the Uzbeks make to remove the pretty things), and listened to the chirping of birds. Before turning in the direction of the bins, I passed two chaps, probably in their early thirties wearing long sleeved under armour, jackets and a body warmer over the top. One had a woolly hat on! They looked at me as if I had appeared in front of them from some distant realm- arrived through a portal to stand before them- bizarre and other worldly. I smiled. It wasn’t cold; it really wasn’t.

This week has been all about job hunting- throwing out the fishing rod and waiting for a bite. I haven’t had a nibble yet but it’s early days, I suppose. Frustratingly, most of the good jobs are in China and it will be difficult for Rach to find gainful employment there; the middle east has never been one of our first choices due, in no small part, to their attitudes to alcohol and women (I am generalising of course) and Malaysia- a place we both have our hearts set on has a 28 per cent emergency tax in the first year of employment. South America and Europe don’t pay enough and getting a visa for Rachel as a spouse looks challenging in a number of other countries. I’m sure there is the right job for me out there but I’m not sure when it’ll come out of hiding and show its face. My fingers are crossed as always.

Last week my daughter Georgia finally got to attend her graduation after the chaos of covid and I genuinely cried as we watched her, virtually of course, collect her degree and cross the stage lowering her hat in the traditional way. It is also my son's 21st birthday today- happy birthday big fella!

It is half term next week- though we only get three days. Boo hoo!

On Wednesday we are boarding an internal flight to Ferghana- the greenest city in Uzbekistan and we will stay for a night there. Friday looks like it will bring with it a new wine tour, organised by Nick and Saturday is the Halloween party at ours. As always we are trying to fill our time with fun and with activities but everything is fuzzy at the moment, with Rachel’s dad not that well and with Rach herself struggling with stomach problems- my brain is a kaleidoscope of opportunity and disappointment.

Coronavirus has been the subject of conversation again recently with cases rising in the United Kingdom. With that thought in my mind, I did a straw poll of mask wearers in Uzbekistan yesterday and, in truth, it did depend on the area you were in but I think it is now about 70 percent of folk not wearing masks on the street- perhaps 75%. The irony, of course, is that the published infection rate and death figures for Covid are 200% worse than they were when we were all locked in our houses and when police officers were shouting through megaphones, telling us to return to our places of abode, as if playing out a scene in dystopian Hollywood film. Don’t get me wrong- I don’t think we should be locked in our houses and I don’t want us to wear masks, to be honest, but it is the dramatic pendulum swing of people’s views that always intrigues. People who would have cursed and swore at you a year ago for flouting the rules are now doing exactly that: bored, understandably I guess, by the seemingly endless struggle. Myself- I have been comparatively consistent- never holier than thou; nor a naysayer and certainly not a hypocrite. I always felt the reaction to be too draconian and it does make me giggle like a child inside to see how people who wouldn’t dare open their door to a friend (even if they were in full nuclear protective regalia) now sit in packed restaurants without the protection of even a mask, seemingly unconcerned, when the situation is apparently twice as bad.

I suppose the vaccinations might be construed as protection but I think it is only 30 percent of Uzbek the population that have been vaccinated. Anyway, I digress...

My point was going to be that there is talk of a potential lockdown over Christmas in the United Kingdom. There couldn’t be could there?

The Decay of the Romance...17-10-21

The nights are soon dark now and as I write, it’s only ten minutes after six and yet the sun has well and truly disappeared. That said; it was lovely and warm throughout the day so no complaints. Last night we had a lovely gathering at ours and I cooked up a tasty and nutritious Aloo Matter with homemade chapattis. It went down rather well and people enjoyed a good selection of wines and beers. It had been quite some time since we last brought some life to the flat and it was much needed. Callum and Kayle brought their excellent game, 30 seconds, with them, which is a real hoot- the boys enjoyed a convincing victory over the girls which I definitely won’t mention again. Honestly.

The last couple of weeks have been steady at work though I have to confess to struggling with some of the low levels of English in drama lessons. I have to alter everything I do and plan so differently. I guess it’s a challenge. On Friday, we went out to ‘shoot’ pool which is always good fun and it was a productive night of winning for me which is even more pleasing. The week nights have been spent looking for jobs and I have three applications in with another almost complete, so all of my fingers and toes are crossed that I might get a little bite from somewhere.

We celebrated Steve's birthday last weekend with a cracking trip to Roni's- a new pizza place. It was a lovely night and a great atmosphere- the highlight of which, for me, was when I managed to put on seven party hats at the same time. Small achivements clearly please small minds!

Life in Tashkent is much of a muchness, with the usual mix of frustration and irritation. I have to admit to finding many of the aspects of Uzbek life, that I once romanticised as new and exciting, quite annoying. Drivers who race towards stationary vehicles or almost knock down women crossing the road with a pushchair out front; waiters who take twenty minutes to bring you a drink; or others who tell you it is ‘impossible’ to bring salad and pizza at the same time; corkscrews that break after the second usage; plug sockets that are positioned in places that make them completely unusable; heating that comes on even though it is already roasting hot in the apartment. They are all first world problems but where they once made me giggle and wonder; they now just irritate. It is clearly my issue and I know that villagers outside of Tashkent are freezing in their houses without heating so I am enormously lucky, of course. Yet, it is time for change, without a doubt before I go ‘stir-fry’ crazy.

We are already looking ahead to Christmas and are considering a trip to Paris to see Georgia and River for two nights, before heading back to blighty. That will be a great travel blog to write. The covid situation still makes travel uncertain, in the sense that every trip you make needs research to ascertain the requirements of each country you are travelling to. However, many places are finally accepting the vaccine instead of the PCR test. Of course, Uzbekistan isn’t one of them- so any trip we do that involves coming back here means we need to plan in a PCR test. Hopefully, Uzbekistan will move forwards but I’m not expectant, nor hopeful, that it will be any time soon.

So, this week I'll try to not let the romance die.

Crawling Around Looking For My Memories- 02-10-21

We’re slap bang in the middle of a three day weekend at the moment and it feels good. I had a great lie in followed by a delicious breakfast of stewed peaches, accompanied by the wonder of Vaughan Williams’ symphony number three. All mornings should start like this!

It has been a long time since writing my blog and I’m crawling around inside the dark grey matter, searching somewhat aimlessly for what I’ve been busy doing in the last few weeks. Hmm.

Ah- my birthday. Yes, sadly, I am now officially 47. I do remember one year where I thought I was a year older than I was and when Rach reminded me that I was wrong, it was like I’d gained a whole year of life. No such luck this year. I really am that old and if I’m honest, I feel it. My left knee is shot to pieces at the moment and my back aches every time I sit in one position for more than five minutes. Drama teaching is causing me to sweat copiously, and I am quite literally exhausted at the end of each day.

This year, we predictably played pool again on my ‘big day’, though I lost in the final this time, after far too much ‘naughty juice’. Afterwards, we enjoyed a beautiful meal at L’Opera with friends followed by lots more at ‘One More’ nightclub. The most inaccurately titled club in existence- surely.  It is never one is it? It was great to spend time with folk who I don’t usually see, and we had some fascinating conversations.

So as I continue to crawl on through the dense undergrowth, what else can I find? Oh- yes I guess rehearsals for the school show are worth a mention. We are two weeks in and despite technical issues with lighting and the usual nonsense of nothing working properly, we are doing really well. The cast are perhaps even better than the pre-Covid group I had put together. The standard of performance is decent and I am excited to see how this one evolves. We’re even having some T-shirts made up. I hope this will be my parting gift to the school- the show, not the t-shirts.

So yesterday- I can easily find that little memory. We visited the Solar institute of Parkent, an hour outside of the city. I thoroughly enjoyed the educational journey out there, into the country, passed the donkey carts, the teams of workers and ramshackle huts with their ‘oh so perfect doors’. They really do take doors seriously here: ornate and yet formidable. The institute itself was very interesting with sixty or so large solar panels reflecting light back to a huge reflective and concave building, constructed out of robust and dense scaffolding, like a giant metal spider’s web with a reflective water drop sitting on it.

There were some quaint ideas here for guests, including boiling a kettle using the sun’s rays and burning wood until smoked. Apparently, the furnace that is housed inside the structure is the hottest solar furnace in the world and can reach temperatures of up to 3000 degrees. At this temperature, you can melt bricks and as evidence, the organisation displays one such brick that had begun to liquefy.

The hair-raising moment of the trip, was when we took a lift to the top of the structure which is perhaps sixty metres or so high. Hard to be sure. A chap mentioned how the lift had broken three times already that day but we took a chance and threw our lot in with Lady Luck. We survived and we made the top. When you leave the lift, you are immediately forced to walk across a rickety metal bridge which bounces under your weight (well mine certainly) and creaks and groans like an injured metal beast. Rach was terrified and me too, though I hid it well. From here the views are great but you do feel that the metal panels that you have to stand on may give way at any point. We didn’t stay long.

And so, my purblind wander through my memories has been more successful than I thought but the darkness is coming and I cannot see anything else and so today we will chill out and enjoy the now more bearable weather and some pleasant down time.

Once More Unto the Breach- 12-09-21

It’s another pool day today though the temperatures are very much dropping. It’s 11.30 am and 26 degrees which means there are no locals as it is a little too chilly to swim. I am of course lying as there is one other lady present- though she is clearly here for the sunshine and I doubt she’ll brave the pool. Time will tell.

I have been mainly adjusting this week to the demands of full time drama teaching. It has been a few years since I last leapt about all over the place, clowning, gurning and prancing like a ‘good un’ all day long, hoping to inspire, confuse and generally make young people laugh. On Mondays, I have five hours ‘on the bounce’ with two twenty minute breaks in between and in the ‘compact and bisu’ (though aesthetically pleasant) space I’ve been given, you can, I am sure, imagine the sour smell of sweat that begins to permeate its way around the classroom. And then it lingers, sits in the corners and in doorways with narrow eyes and a putrid grin (the mixed metaphor is deliberate). My drama studio (oh so grand) is also in the basement so there is no natural light and it is easy to start to think of yourself as some sort of troll, or Gollum like creature who periodically climbs up the ravines (stairs) to find food or water (from the staffroom).

I have an aircon but it is pathetically inadequate like trying to chop an oak tree down with a penknife. And so, Mondays aren’t pleasant and I have now taken to stashing several shirts in my ruck sack like a hobo, looking for a new home.

Yesterday, I made a total idiot of myself. I threw myself in the air to demonstrate a ‘prat fall’ (quite literally in this case) landing on hands and soft parts being the target. I had forgotten that I had removed my shoes and when I ‘killed’ the fall, I crunched my right heel, leaving me hobbling around like a pirate with a wooden leg. In the spirit of the thespian, I did try to ‘ham’ it up and there was definitely a balance of ooo and arrr but internally I realised that I wouldn’t be walking properly for a few weeks. To top this off, my left knee is also damaged, so now I cannot use either side of my body to support the other. I look like I am in an episode of Monty Python’s silly walks.

Despite the whining and whinging, I will continue and I have to confess to enjoying the drama teaching. It is a lot of fun and students here are not used to the antics and the exuberance that I bring to the lesson (note that I did not say quality). I also have my wonderful IGCSE classes and my A level literature group who are simply divine. I don’t mean that they all wear haloes. They have far too much character for that!

So as the heat drops to more bearable levels over the next few weeks, and as we gradually get used to the early morning starts and the madness of the working day, I am sure we will settle down well enough. This week, we have eaten out almost every night and the beers and wine has flowed, which is great but isn’t helping my tum tum. The pool at school is also not accessible to staff at the moment and so if I want to start my swimming properly, I will need to head out to other local pools.

Last week, we had three days off, which is strange after only just starting back at work and not really necessary to be honest but we enjoyed the present nonetheless and headed out to Tuyagubul lake or Tashkent Sea. We’ve been before but this time the pool was open and we didn’t bother with the lake, which was very much reduced in depth with the constant battering it had had from the sun over July and August. It was a great night and Rach and I (through excellent organisation) enjoyed jacket potatoes with cheese, smoky beans and bananas cooked on the barbecue with chocolate. Scrumptious!

And so to Coronavirus. Numbers are higher than they were during the height of lockdown here in Tashkent but you wouldn’t know it. Very few people wear masks anymore and no one really talks about the virus anymore. The only places I wear a mask are at school (I wonder if this will be forever) and the supermarkets where we still get sprayed with some chemicals (I wonder what they are). Kazahkstan still has its borders closed and is apparently closing them until the end of the year and travelling anywhere involves faffing about with pcr tests. On top of all of this, it seems that our vaccines will also become out of date in six months or so.

Next week, we begin auditions for the school show and I am excited about what we might achieve with some of the young talent that we have. I love directing and this year we have a super staff team who are all willing and keen to get going.

Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more.