25 Ramadhan, 1439
The degree to which I've adjusted to the demands of the fast became apparent in the late afternoon when I realised that no thought of eating or, more pertinently, drinking had occurred to me despite being engaged in some heavy duty cleaning duties on a very hot day. At the moment of actually thinking the thought I was aware of a lack of desire to break the fast and a complete acceptance of the conditions of the fast. A sense that this is the way things are and have to be.
Later on, at the breaking of the fast, I experienced a similar kind of acceptance. There was no great pleasure involved in finally drinking, just a feeling of rightness that it was time to do so.
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Saturday, June 9, 2018
Under Examination
24 Ramadhan, 1439
I completed my quota of marking for the May IB paper I specialise in today, I'm happy to say. It's a bit of burden to begin each day with a target in mind of essays to complete, and even more so when all sorts of oddities can crop up in the team of which I'm in charge to derail progress. The responsibility for the team is still on-going, by the way, but it doesn't feel anything like as onerous now I'm in the clear on the personal front.
I suppose part of the burden is the sense of the importance of the marking for each individual taking the examination. I try and stay fresh for each essay, bearing in mind this is someone's attempt to do his or her best. But that can be difficult when a fair proportion of essays strongly suggest that their writers were not terribly bothered about how a marker will receive their efforts. At times work was not so much careless as determined to demonstrate a consummate lack of care for accuracy, or consideration for any reader. But these were a minority. And there was much to cheer in terms of students obviously finding value in what they'd read and sometimes real illumination in their texts. It's a bit much to expect this of every script, but I suppose that's what those who teach the texts are hopefully/hopelessly looking for.
I completed my quota of marking for the May IB paper I specialise in today, I'm happy to say. It's a bit of burden to begin each day with a target in mind of essays to complete, and even more so when all sorts of oddities can crop up in the team of which I'm in charge to derail progress. The responsibility for the team is still on-going, by the way, but it doesn't feel anything like as onerous now I'm in the clear on the personal front.
I suppose part of the burden is the sense of the importance of the marking for each individual taking the examination. I try and stay fresh for each essay, bearing in mind this is someone's attempt to do his or her best. But that can be difficult when a fair proportion of essays strongly suggest that their writers were not terribly bothered about how a marker will receive their efforts. At times work was not so much careless as determined to demonstrate a consummate lack of care for accuracy, or consideration for any reader. But these were a minority. And there was much to cheer in terms of students obviously finding value in what they'd read and sometimes real illumination in their texts. It's a bit much to expect this of every script, but I suppose that's what those who teach the texts are hopefully/hopelessly looking for.
Friday, June 8, 2018
Living Through The Horror
23 Ramadhan, 1439
I've never been a fan of Defoe's fiction. It's some years now since I put down Robinson Crusoe, and I've never felt in the slightest inclined to pick it up again. And I found Moll Flanders unreadable.
So I'm not too sure what made me pick up a copy of his A Journal of the Plague Year, though I suspect the striking title had something to do with it. Can't say I found it a great read, but it proved interesting in its way as an example of a kind of early journalism. You certainly feel like you're with the narrator in the plague-struck London of 1665, which is all the more remarkable for the fact that the account was actually written in 1722, more than sixty years later.
I suppose I was expecting a fairly grisly account of rotting corpses and the like, but Defoe goes easy on the horror, though horror there is necessarily. What he's very good at is giving a convincing sense of how ordinary people kept going through it all. There's a sort of admirable civic heroism involved as, for example, the bodies are somehow buried and the poor get fed. It struck me that these days a publisher would be much keener on the gruesomeness of it all than the unexpected wholesomeness that helped deal with the disaster. Perhaps if Defoe had really lived through it all, he'd have had a different kind of story to tell?
I've never been a fan of Defoe's fiction. It's some years now since I put down Robinson Crusoe, and I've never felt in the slightest inclined to pick it up again. And I found Moll Flanders unreadable.
So I'm not too sure what made me pick up a copy of his A Journal of the Plague Year, though I suspect the striking title had something to do with it. Can't say I found it a great read, but it proved interesting in its way as an example of a kind of early journalism. You certainly feel like you're with the narrator in the plague-struck London of 1665, which is all the more remarkable for the fact that the account was actually written in 1722, more than sixty years later.
I suppose I was expecting a fairly grisly account of rotting corpses and the like, but Defoe goes easy on the horror, though horror there is necessarily. What he's very good at is giving a convincing sense of how ordinary people kept going through it all. There's a sort of admirable civic heroism involved as, for example, the bodies are somehow buried and the poor get fed. It struck me that these days a publisher would be much keener on the gruesomeness of it all than the unexpected wholesomeness that helped deal with the disaster. Perhaps if Defoe had really lived through it all, he'd have had a different kind of story to tell?
Thursday, June 7, 2018
A Relief
22 Ramadhan, 1439
When I saw the tailback yesterday from the Malaysian Immigration after the bridge at Tuas, stretching back a good two kilometres, I thought we were doomed to be stuck in a jam for at least a couple of hours. The prospect of dealing with this, followed by the drive up to Kuala Lumpur, was, to say the least, daunting. And this following a very sweaty morning preparing to leave, with the sun at its fiercest for these parts.
In the event, the jam proved almost illusory. There was a jam certainly, but it involved only the massive number of lorries and buses wending their ways north. They should have been occupying the inside lane of the highway to the customs, but had spread to occupy two lanes and, temporarily, had managed to stop the cars seeking to make their way along the outside lane to the fairly quiet lanes at Immigration set aside for them. We got through in less than five minutes to my very considerable relief.
It wasn't exactly an easy journey after that, given the problems I'm currently experiencing with my back. When we finally disembarked at Bukit Antarabangsa it took me five minutes to straighten up so I could walk. But none of this seemed particularly significant in the light of the possible jam we had avoided earlier. I can still feel the sense of relief one day later, which shows you just how narrow one's concerns can be when it comes to dealing with the problems that life happily sends our way.
When I saw the tailback yesterday from the Malaysian Immigration after the bridge at Tuas, stretching back a good two kilometres, I thought we were doomed to be stuck in a jam for at least a couple of hours. The prospect of dealing with this, followed by the drive up to Kuala Lumpur, was, to say the least, daunting. And this following a very sweaty morning preparing to leave, with the sun at its fiercest for these parts.
In the event, the jam proved almost illusory. There was a jam certainly, but it involved only the massive number of lorries and buses wending their ways north. They should have been occupying the inside lane of the highway to the customs, but had spread to occupy two lanes and, temporarily, had managed to stop the cars seeking to make their way along the outside lane to the fairly quiet lanes at Immigration set aside for them. We got through in less than five minutes to my very considerable relief.
It wasn't exactly an easy journey after that, given the problems I'm currently experiencing with my back. When we finally disembarked at Bukit Antarabangsa it took me five minutes to straighten up so I could walk. But none of this seemed particularly significant in the light of the possible jam we had avoided earlier. I can still feel the sense of relief one day later, which shows you just how narrow one's concerns can be when it comes to dealing with the problems that life happily sends our way.
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
Onward
21 Ramadhan, 1439
A journey up to the Malaysian capital looms, and looms larger than usual since I'm troubled by a strained muscle on my right side. I've been suffering quite a few aches and pains in this season of fasting and the situation is not improving. Old age, I suppose - the catchall explanation for almost everything these late days.
Anyway, what must be done is about to be done. Wish me luck.
A journey up to the Malaysian capital looms, and looms larger than usual since I'm troubled by a strained muscle on my right side. I've been suffering quite a few aches and pains in this season of fasting and the situation is not improving. Old age, I suppose - the catchall explanation for almost everything these late days.
Anyway, what must be done is about to be done. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
Alight
20 Ramadhan, 1439
Our twinkling lights are now up, and, amazingly, still operational after quite some years. It's all starting to feel official.
Our twinkling lights are now up, and, amazingly, still operational after quite some years. It's all starting to feel official.
Monday, June 4, 2018
Loss
19 Ramadhan, 1439
A generally sombre day. We attended the wake for my colleague Suseela this afternoon. It was heartening to see so many of her students and ex-students there to pay their respects.
When I first heard that she was ill, not so long ago, I was hopeful, as were we all, that the treatment would be effective and we would see her back with us. It's good that we no longer assume a diagnosis involving some kind of cancer is somehow hopeless, as it seemed to be back when I was a teenager. But this has been a dark reminder of just how difficult the fight can be.
A generally sombre day. We attended the wake for my colleague Suseela this afternoon. It was heartening to see so many of her students and ex-students there to pay their respects.
When I first heard that she was ill, not so long ago, I was hopeful, as were we all, that the treatment would be effective and we would see her back with us. It's good that we no longer assume a diagnosis involving some kind of cancer is somehow hopeless, as it seemed to be back when I was a teenager. But this has been a dark reminder of just how difficult the fight can be.
Sunday, June 3, 2018
In & Around
18 Ramadhan, 1439
The Missus continues to astonish with her ability to get so much done despite the demands of fasting. We are splendidly awash with biscuits and various curtains and covers keep disappearing only to resurface looking even more spick & span than is usual. Since we're off to KL soon she's racing against the clock to get all in order.
I've made my usual effort to contribute to proceedings by getting all the bookshelves here cleaned over the last couple of days, along with a couple of shoe racks this time round. It's a timely reminder that the more you accumulate the more there is to look after. So far this year I haven't purchased any books at all, having decided to seriously address the reading of one or two items on the shelves that have never received the all-out attention they deserve. I'm rather pleased with myself for the new-found restraint, but do wonder how long it will last.
Tomorrow I'm intending to pop into work for a couple of hours to do a bit of spring-cleaning around my desk. I'm not sure why this kind of thing makes me feel virtuous, but I'll settle for the fact it does; if nothing else it helps to keep the chaos at bay.
The Missus continues to astonish with her ability to get so much done despite the demands of fasting. We are splendidly awash with biscuits and various curtains and covers keep disappearing only to resurface looking even more spick & span than is usual. Since we're off to KL soon she's racing against the clock to get all in order.
I've made my usual effort to contribute to proceedings by getting all the bookshelves here cleaned over the last couple of days, along with a couple of shoe racks this time round. It's a timely reminder that the more you accumulate the more there is to look after. So far this year I haven't purchased any books at all, having decided to seriously address the reading of one or two items on the shelves that have never received the all-out attention they deserve. I'm rather pleased with myself for the new-found restraint, but do wonder how long it will last.
Tomorrow I'm intending to pop into work for a couple of hours to do a bit of spring-cleaning around my desk. I'm not sure why this kind of thing makes me feel virtuous, but I'll settle for the fact it does; if nothing else it helps to keep the chaos at bay.
Saturday, June 2, 2018
Out & About
17 Ramadhan, 1439
We're off to the Bazaar at Geylang later this evening. The month begins its move towards celebration, inevitably, even as the testing goes on.
Postscript: Definitely a case of seeing the bright lights tonight. And we managed to pay our Zakat, making it a most fruitful, if busy, evening all told.
We're off to the Bazaar at Geylang later this evening. The month begins its move towards celebration, inevitably, even as the testing goes on.
Postscript: Definitely a case of seeing the bright lights tonight. And we managed to pay our Zakat, making it a most fruitful, if busy, evening all told.
Friday, June 1, 2018
Others
16 Ramadhan, 1439
The temptation of Ramadhan I need to avoid, and never quite manage to, I'm afraid, is the temptation to turn too far inward in a time of otherwise useful self-examination. Fortunately there are devices in-built into the experience, as it were, that act as a corrective to excessive navel-gazing: amongst others, the need to worship in community and the necessity of giving charity.
I was reminded of just how important it is not to lose sight of others and their trials & tribulations on recalling that the terrible fire that almost consumed Grenfell Tower in London happened this time last year during the fasting month. And then I came across a quite astonishingly detailed account of the tragedy and its aftermath by Andrew O'Hagan at the London Review of Books. The rigour and quality of attention given to others in his article, simply yet tellingly entitled The Tower, seem to me to embody the kind of concern that we need to let others demand of us.
The temptation of Ramadhan I need to avoid, and never quite manage to, I'm afraid, is the temptation to turn too far inward in a time of otherwise useful self-examination. Fortunately there are devices in-built into the experience, as it were, that act as a corrective to excessive navel-gazing: amongst others, the need to worship in community and the necessity of giving charity.
I was reminded of just how important it is not to lose sight of others and their trials & tribulations on recalling that the terrible fire that almost consumed Grenfell Tower in London happened this time last year during the fasting month. And then I came across a quite astonishingly detailed account of the tragedy and its aftermath by Andrew O'Hagan at the London Review of Books. The rigour and quality of attention given to others in his article, simply yet tellingly entitled The Tower, seem to me to embody the kind of concern that we need to let others demand of us.
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