Diving

One of my very old friends, S****, who I saw while I was in England was almost speechless. Which is quite something for her.

''Wakeboarding?! ***** ***** going wakeboarding? And climbing? And scuba diving? Gymnastics?  ***** *****  doesn't go wakeboarding."

Which is a fairly accurate appraisal of my sporting prowess.

When the DFP asked,
"Would you like to start diving lessons?"
I replied,
"No. That sounds really scary. I definitely don't want to do that."

So it will come as no surprise at all to you that for the past four Saturdays from 5 - 6.30pm we have been taking diving lessons. 


To clarify, when I say diving I mean Tom-Daley-diving rather than scuba-diving. Though what I am doing doesn't resemble what Tom Daley does, apart from both of us leaving a springboard and soon afterwards entering a swimming pool.

The pool complex we go to is like those I remember from my childhood in England. Proper local authority, slightly crumbly around the edges, not shiny but very functional, cheap to get into and well used by everyone. There is a 'caf' where you can buy your crisps or your cup of tea after your swim. Or, because this is Singapore, your noodles.

Surprisingly, I like it. Like wakeboarding it's a good thing to do in Singapore where it's so hot that most of the time you want any excuse to submerge yourself in cold water. The bright colours of sky and water remind me of those David Hockney prints of swimming pools in California.

The first week we turned up the coach was an amazing Scottish woman, O***, who had trained the Singaporean junior national  team. Unfortunately it was her last week teaching before returning to Scotland to train to be a doctor. 

The diving club seems to have been a bit lost since her departure. We've had almost a new coach each week  of varying levels of competence.

Last Saturday T**, who we'd seen training the first week we were there and doing the most amazingly complex looking spin-ey, hurtle-y dives, was our coach. T** looks like he should be on a plinth. He also has a fantastic eye and gives very precise, useful notes. And he takes no s***. For example:

Him:   I think it's time for you to go and try that from the 3m board.
Me:    No. That looks really frightening. I think I'll just stay and do some jumps from the 1m board.
Him:  There's quite a long queue for the 1m so you can go and get a couple in from the 3m board and not loose your place. Off you go.

Hmmm. I cannot fight tactics like that.

In between wakeboarding (Saturday morning) and diving (Saturday afternoon) we watched the Olympics opening ceremony. Shamefully, this is the first time I have ever seen one. I absolutely loved it. It was completely how I want my country to represent itself. A mindful celebration with shades of dark and light, humourous and zany.

This evening I have (for the first time ever) watched the women's weight lifting, white water canoeing, a bit of table tennis and I'm just about to watch the diving. I have broken all my sport watching records and achieved my personal best.

What has happened to the girl who in the two afternoons a week allocated for sport while doing her A-levels chose to do community service and art? That's the girl that S**** knew. Where has she gone?

Well. Not that far.

                                        

I showed this to my 7 year olds on Sunday morning. They weren't that impressed. I love that about 7 year olds.

Home

A friend emailed to check if I was okay as it's been such a long time since I've written my blog. He was the last person I spoke to, in the airport departure lounge, before I got on the plane to come back. Not to come back home. Home isn't Singapore, it's definitely still London.

My trip was filled with the things and the people I love. The things that define me. Queing for dayseats at the National Theatre, watching plays, protracted cups of tea with friends, walking and enjoying it instead of being sapped by humidity, eating the occasional scone.

I traversed the country. From London to the Lake district where I saw my friend J* being wonderful in a play in Keswick. The next morning we walked around the lake, talking hard as it rained hard. The charcoal clouds hanging low over the hills. The sheep standing patiently, masticating, under trees waiting for the rain to stop.

Then onwards to Edinburgh where my Scottish niblings live. More rain. The Meadows are so flooded that ducks have taken up residence and are paddling there. And so are small children.

Back to London and my American niblings had arrived. As soon as the front door opened my niece L****, one of the twins, took me by the hand and led me inside. “There are toys!” she declared and, conversationally asked, “are you a little girl?”

I saw a lot of theatre. Matilda with the divine Bertie Carvel as Miss Trunchbull. I was expecting to be cross that a man is playing a part that should go to a woman, but he is so, so good. So good. Really inspired. 

'Collaborators' and 'The Last of the Haussmans' both at the National. The latter has wonderful performances, but is a disappointing play. My wonderful friend A*** in a beautiful piece of puppet theatre, three small sets, filmed. The audience able to watch the creation of the puppeteers work on a screen as well as them hard at work below. I went to the Royal Court and queued for returns for 'The Witness' and got the last one. I bought plays and have been devouring them here. 'Constellations' is so beautiful if you have the chance to read it.

It did rain a lot. I got out my winter coats. They felt novel and exciting. But I know it's pants for everyone in the UK, such a non summer summer. Though my parents garden is looking lovely. Every dark cloud and all that.

In November I will go to Burma where my grandmother was born and brought up and which she wrote books about. It is the trip I've wanted to go on as long as I can remember and I'm finally going. Between now and then we are going to Bali for a long weekend and to Malaysia with the DFP's family while they are visiting.

I wanted to travel more. Now I am.

Having tea at St Pancras Hotel

Having tea and cake in the restaurant of the National Portrait Gallery

The set of Matilda

Sheep picking their spot in the lake district before a downpour

The set of Collaborators

One of the Lake District's lakes

Edinburgh

Hamish Grig wonders whether it would be dangerous to venture outside

American twin nibblings

Taking Stock

On Friday I'm flying home for a week and a half.  It's nearly a year since I left the UK and I'm so excited to be coming home.

It's been harder than I thought it would be. What I've missed most is people - family and friends. People I've known for a long time. People to share with when things are good and things are bad. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. I took people for granted.

I haven't achieved anything very spectacular in my life so far, except my friendships. I have the most amazing, the most wonderful, diverse, funny, talented and exciting friends and I miss them every day.

And theatre. I miss London theatre. Art. Culture. Not that it doesn't exist here but London is second to none. Just walking the streets of London you are surrounded by beautiful, diverse architecture. In Singapore you are surrounded by shopping malls.

So there are the downsides. And the ups?

Starting with friendships. I have reconnected to farther away friends. Skype is a lifeline. When you are far away from everyone, everyone is equally difficult to contact, so perhaps I've made slightly more effort with the far flung?

Travel, clearly. The chance to see with new eyes. When everything is strange and unfamiliar you work harder, you can't take anything for granted. You notice life. It's quirks. It's colour. You think about your own.

I have a better quality of life here. Singapore is small. Less time is spent travelling. A taxi ride home costs the same as an ice cream. A massage is the same price as a bottle of wine. In London I didn't catch taxis or have massages. Here I can.

Meeting up with people, coming home from work, going out to do something in the evening. Everything is quicker. You can leave 30 minutes to get somewhere.

We have a pool. Whenever in my life am I going to have a swimming pool again? And a gym just downstairs. We went climbing last night and the climbing wall was 5 minutes walk away.  We go wakeboarding on Saturday mornings and are there (in a taxi) in 10 minutes. And when we fall into the water it's warm.

Nearly a year and I can't decide. What's more important in life? They way you live it or who you live it with.

Teamwork 9

The class names in schools here are often taken from the school values - commitment, respect, self-discipline, care, teamwork.  This often provides some unintended satire.

As well as the value they'll have a number. The students are streamed early. The brightest are put in class number one and so it descends down through the ranks of intelligence and behaviour.

I've just finished ten weeks teaching the legend, Teamwork nine.  You'll have worked out by now that Teamwork Nine weren't that great at teamwork.  A few weeks into teaching them I lost my voice, probably from shouting at them to be quiet.

Now shouting is never a good thing. It's a trap you fall into. It feels like a quick way to get their attention so you can tell them what you want to do. Most of the time it's easy not to. You put in place a system early on. 'When I want you to be quiet I will put my finger on my lips and count.' Or sometimes I'll clap a rhythm. Most frequently used in primary schools here is 'one silent clap.' It's like magic. You say one silent clap and all the little crazy people stop, clap, put their fingers on their lips and say 'shhh'.

Not Teamwork nine. Oh no. However, that lesson when I'd lost my voice was a turning voice. I went in and croaked at them that they were going to have to be good because I couldn't talk. I got someone to take the register for me (it turns out this is cat nip for small children). I got different children to repeat what I wanted them to do. Sometimes I just wrote 'silence' on the whiteboard.

Though nothing ever really makes Teamwork Nine completely silent this lesson was quite fun for all of us and made me remember that shouting is never, ever the way to go. I decided to accept the noise level and go a different route.

So it's been a noisy few weeks but we had fun. It took them an extremely long time to grasp the rules of zip zap boing (or anything in fact) but having understood it they LOVED it. And Splat.

At the end of each course we give out feedback forms. Usually they don't tend to write comments. But not Teamwork Nine. Oh no. They commented.

Here are a choice selection....

I would like it because it is fun and exciting.

It is very fun.

The teacher is excellent for us.

I think I should play and learn more games.

I hope that my speech and drama will be very fun.

I could learn more about this.

The instructor is kind and friendly.

I want more there are games activieties and funthing.

I think this programme is better than the rest.

The teacher must waste her voice because many of our friends talk.

I want more speech and drama it is because it is very fan.

The teacher is nice and fun.

The teacher is very nice and she helps us not to be so shy she is a helpful teacher and sometimes when we are discussing she will help us

I hope that my speech and drama

I learn more.

I would like more lessons of this it will be fun. Danish is very irritating he does not have any proof or evidence.

It helps me to make friends and helping my mother.

And in the end I was very sad to say goodbye to Teamwork Nine.

Vesak Day

It took a bit of nifty googling to find out what this massively important religious festival was all about. It's Buddha's naming day. The official date shifts a bit, but always lands in May. And, more importantly it provides a day off. Except it landed on Saturday this year, so no day off for me.

Here are some pictures and videos from out and about in Singapore last Saturday.

An enormous tent was constructed on the patch of grass in front of the train station  and this was what we found inside...

At the temple in Chinatown

Addendum

I don't know how, but I forgot 'can' or 'ken' in my introduction to Singlish. 'Can' is probably the most useful word you can learn. It's basically an abbreviation. Instead of saying  (as I the ever verbose do) for example to a taxi driver
"excuse me would it be possible to do stop over on the left there? I'd be ever so grateful".
you could say
"Stop here. Can?"

You could also use it like this. For example if asked:
"Can you teach a class of overexcited seven year olds drama?"
I could reply
"Can".
Then if additionally asked
"And are you able to climb an imaginary wall?"
I could say
"Also can".

See. Very simple. Very useful. Can. Also Can. My gift to you this Friday.

Ah Zip lah

Lah is to a Singaporean what boff and quoi are to the French. Perhaps you've heard of Singlish? It's the combination of English, Hokkien and Malay slanged here. Apparently the government are trying to get rid of it. It's almost impossible to understand. There's far more Sing to it than Eng.

The people I teach often speak Singlish. Some of the very little ones try speaking Mandarin to me. There's a very specific expression that a 5 year old child has on it's face when asking (urgently) to be allowed to go to the toilet, lucky as in this instance he was asking in Mandarin and I had absolutely no idea what he was saying. There's something very charming in that he assumed that I would be as multi lingual as he is and as most of the people here are.

Childhood development is very fascinating to me. What people are able to do at what age.  At primary one (six and seven year olds) children can't spread out. They are still developing spatial awareness. Jostling together they will be very uncomfortably squashed up until the brighter ones call me over, look up with big, worried eyes and say 'ahh bit squeezy, lah'. Weirdly they cannot un-squeeze themselves and need me to help.

I remember touring a play into primary schools and how the lines of very little ones would trail into the hall where we had put up our set. They would follow each other and then, when told, stop and drop to sit down where ever they were. They wouldn't move so that they had enough space and if they ended up sitting facing away from the stage rather than move their whole body to face it they would just twist their heads around. For the entire performance.

Teenaged patois is a thing unto itself. A common warm up game for drama is called zip zap boing. There are many different versions, but basically you pass a zip sound around a circle by saying zip in turn and pointing your hands towards the person next to you. If you want to change directions you say boing and if you want to pass the sound across the circle you say zap. It's supposed to be fast and focused. Fast and focused is hard for most teenagers. They think I'm 'siow' (crazy) asking them to do speech exercises and play strange games anyway. Zip zap boing in their hands sounds a bit like this:

'Ahhhh, zip lah. Ahh zap lah. Ahh. Boing lor, ahh.'

A lot slower than originally intended.