An attempt to convey a few of the thoughts & feelings of an expatriate teacher in sunny Singapore (and adjacent spots on occasion.)
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Forgivable
When I get my life back I'm intending to devote a small part of it to Anthony Trollope's Can You Forgive Her? As it is I'm actually making progress even under the worst conditions. Trollope demands momentum. Small doses don't suit. But they're enough. Just. At least for now.
Every time I think of Anthony Trollope, I wonder if his schoolmates teased him a lot about his surname. Then I realise that of all cultures, the English are the most adept at doing that sort of thing, regardless of social class.
I don't suppose Anthony's mum's name would have helped him much.
Actually I seem to remember reading somewhere that Trollope was bullied at school. It might have been in C.P. Snow's rather good essay on him in The Realists. I think that's the name of the book, in which I think I read about the bullying - but I could well be wrong on all counts. Just not to be trusted these days, I'm afraid.
My vision: retirement and a life of leisure.
My mission: to manage decline gracefully.
My goal: to get to the end of the day in one piece.
Born in Manchester, I am at present living and working, as a teacher of English, in Singapore, having done so since 1988. My wife, Noshayati – whom I call Noi, and others call Yati – is Malaysian, and we travel frequently to her homeland, where most of her family live (in Melaka.) We own a house in Kuala Lumpur. My sister and family still live back in Manchester and we try to visit occasionally.
I used to work for the Ministry of Education in Singapore, but since 2007 have been employed directly by an independent school here. It pays the bills.
I converted to Islam in 1997 and find myself even more interestingly placed in the world as a result. I like occupying intersections. They afford useful perspectives.
I’d like to think I have a sense of curiosity which keeps me young. But the jury is still out on this. A good day is one on which just about everything seems interesting. Some days are not so good, but I'm not so naive as to believe I have any right to expect otherwise.
2 comments:
Every time I think of Anthony Trollope, I wonder if his schoolmates teased him a lot about his surname. Then I realise that of all cultures, the English are the most adept at doing that sort of thing, regardless of social class.
It's nice to be good at something.
I don't suppose Anthony's mum's name would have helped him much.
Actually I seem to remember reading somewhere that Trollope was bullied at school. It might have been in C.P. Snow's rather good essay on him in The Realists. I think that's the name of the book, in which I think I read about the bullying - but I could well be wrong on all counts. Just not to be trusted these days, I'm afraid.
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