Christmas is Coming Here Too

 

I knew it wouldn’t be long, but Christmas arrived this week in my apartment block in Singapore. As I blearily stepped out of the lift on Monday morning on my way to College, there was a tree in the lobby glittering  away, presents all around.

And later, when getting some milk from my local ‘Cold Storage’ (the local version of Waitrose- well some connection at least as some of its brand is available) I overheard, above an idiosyncratic, relayed version of Auld Lang Syne,  an animated discussion between two of the staff about which way round the reindeer should go. It should welcome customers, one said. The other evidently thought not.

          It was a reminder of just how fast this two weeks has flashed past, since the last transmission I very rapidly concocted (you could probably tell !) in the departure lounge at Heathrow.  It’s been a busy time, mind. I’ve opened a bank account. I’ve been ‘onboarded’ – they use the same phrase here as in Newport - and this morning went through the final stage of getting an employment pass. I’ve started the course – quite a big bunch of enthusiastic but apprehensive students so far, as varied as ever. I’ve attended my first hotel conference – on Disruptive Technology. (An essential part of being an academic, I find, is the capacity to speak magisterially on subjects you know virtually nothing about, but should). I’ve been thoroughly inducted into the local IT system (been given an account, shown how to print, scan and communicate etc etc)  and done a little to customise my spanking new office. Not much though. I find the one book I’ve got on my very smart bookshelves a bit unnerving. But in truth I think most of the book writing will take place in my apartment. Nice though it is, they don’t cater for academics so with the aid of various cardboard boxes scavenged from Cold Storage (they don’t want you sticking things on the walls) I’ve constructed a little work area in one corner of the living room, which I am quite pleased with. The family pictures should be conducive to genius.  

Finally, I’ve cracked all the tips about how best to get to college on the days when I am not being picked up. 3 MRT (or tube) line trips and one quite long bus ride. 60-75 minutes usually with a cappuccino in the Management School when I get there. This is one of the new buildings the university is very proud of – huge, made of wood, and uses traditional temperature control techniques to operate without air conditioning. I like it.

The so-called beehive next to it I think pretty awful in looks and function. All the rooms are circular so there isn’t a flat wall anywhere, and half the students have to sit facing the other way! It won any number of awards of course.

 Fortunately, I don’t teach there, and have a more conventional small very modern lecture theatre which works well. I admitted to the students that I have a problem with technology in my first session, so they were prepared as well as amused when I couldn’t work out how to switch the lights off.

On top of this I have managed a few mini-trips to the local sites, the Asian Civilizations Museum as ever. This included a wander around the area, where there was some kind of Indian festival going on. Looking down on it was a statue of Raffles, a truly amazing man who effectively founded the modern Singapore in two or three years from 1819. It existed before but as a tiny sleepy little fishing kampong of a couple of itinerant families. The local Sultan was only too happy to give it away, for a consideration in the anticipation that Raffles would transform the place. Which he certainly did. I wondered what he would think now if he could see it. Mixed feelings I would guess. He was a great botanist, nature lover and admirer of local custom. So all this ultra-modern city-centric cosmopolitanism wouldn't have been entirely to his taste.

 I have also managed  my two reciprocal clubs – (I still have the British one to do – I’ve only been once and that was to give a Trafalgar night after dinner talk), tracked down 3 little antique shops (all closed, please ring) and of course the Botanical gardens, virtually next to my apartment.  I did though enjoy a quiet ‘Happy Hour’ at my favourite bar on Emerald Hill, where I did my emails accompanied by peanuts and a very welcome very cold glass of Jebisu beer. Much more to do so I had better get on with it…..

Hail and Farewell

It's been a disgracefully long time since the last transmission, no doubt a disappointment to my countless followers. But I kind of expected it after seeing the state the house and garden were in when I got back from the US. These last couple of months I have been eyes down trying to rectify it all. That and redoing the book meant here wasn’t much time for communicating with the rest of the world or for relaxation, apart from the odd family trip and my weekly injection at Caffe Nero.

But I must say that I am pleased with the results. Both the House and garden are looking much better and bedded down for autumn and winter. Of course there’s still loads to do. The Granny Annex is now up and running after two floods. Complete with antique rugs from Kashmir and Afghanistan, courtesy of Cousin Clive.  The recent awful events in Spain are concerning so just in case the annex is sand-bagged to a level significantly higher higher than it was last time – as well as a big new water-diversion system done. I am very much a belt-and-braces man. The water ends up in the road on the corner anyway, but I had rather it didn’t do so via the annex and garage. This year the Annex has been a major unlooked for extra commitment.

The latter has also been the site of an unremitting war against rodents after the £ 2000 damage they did to the car. So far 12 to 1 to me, which just suggests the scale of the problem. - and that doesn't count the three totally desiccated ones I found in the loft when giving it a last check before the taxi arrived. Regardless of such victories,  I still don’t dare put the car away in the garage.

Anyway all this helps explain the silence from my end recently.

Highlights of the time included a great family weekend at Burgess Hill where nearly all the clan were able to assemble despite the lurginess (clearly not a word, but you’ll know what I mean)  of some of its members. Not just no ill-effects but a great tonic, not least the opportunity to revisit Wakehurst Place gardens, utterly transformed from the time when were based at Crawley Down. It was unrecognisable. Also vast numbers of visitors – hard to believe how to believe so many. All present were on fine form. Here are the two junior princesses. It was all really fun.

And so, in a different way, was a school reunion of about a dozen (very) old boys from Bishop Wordsworth’s Grammar School at the White Hart hotel in Salisbury. A convivial lunch was followed up for those of us with the energy to go on a tour of the school afterwards. Again, great differences – a Reception and check-in system, though no fire-arm detectors quite yet. My particular aim was to get back inside the building in the Quad that was for the civilized members of the school, namely the Arts Sixth Form. It was in a

building accessible from the Cathedral Close16^th Century if not earlier. I had a minder, the very personable and assured Head Boy and he said he enjoyed it too as he had never been into this part of the school. I was searching for the small oak panelled room which a very small ultra-select group of us used as our base camp. This was indeed located, but in the throes of the investigation I inadvertently poked into the Headmaster’s office, again oak panelled, much bigger of course and with a lovely fireplace. I had no idea it was there. He was a bit surprised but was charming about the intrusion and we had a nice little chat. My minder was impressed. The holy of holies obviously. Here the inspecting party may be seen outside the more prosaic part of the school. ( I wasn't putting myself forwards - it was just where I happened to be standing when our guide took the picture.  Interesting to see that the prestigious Science block opened by Dr Bronowski in the early 1960s was looking distinctly worse for wear in comparison. Interesting also, if in a different way, was the double-take when we told then what year we were,

There were also a few other nice distractions too, a weird dinner party in Oxford to commemorate the appearance of a major work on the history of the Royal Navy at which I was strangely feted for being an apparently significant but unconscious contributor. A fun meeting of the Friends of Friendless Churches at Long Crichel, Dorset, followed. Two of the highlights of this were sitting down on a low table tomb, next to a lady on her own who turned out to be an Art Historian Prof, at Winchester - very interesting - and being given the most enormous slab of cake (plus another to take home !) I’ve ever had. Bad for the diet but fantastic. The more conventional members of the group used the blue tables you can see here. Cherry and I had 'done' the church before of course. This was a different church group - in Dorset after all so I wasn't on duty this time. Much more relaxing. En route I inflicted myself for coffee on Tony and Maya in Shaftesbury. 

A work visit to the IMO [International maritime Organisation- a UN outfit that regulates the global shipping industry] with an amazing view of the Thames and another to Trinity House. In the margins of this I managed to squeeze in a trip to Till-Jones land in Walthamstow but a major KCL reunion already booked up had to be cancelled because of flooding on the railway line. Long story but not for now 

And so to all points East once again, but now for the last hurrah….