Opportunity

As somebody who only spoke Cantonese as my home language until I first attended school, the most enduring memory of my earliest experiences of Primary school was being “encouraged” to sit alone in the reading or book corner to help myself as support or provision for families who were learning English as an Additional language was not what it is today (2020).  As my family moved from one part of London to another when they were expecting my younger brother, I had to change schools to one that was much closer to home.  The Convent school I moved to seemed to be kinder to me in terms of ensuring I was always included in all of their teaching.  My teachers realised too that I was a voracious reader, prolific writer and quite skilled at Maths.  Having the encouragement and support of my parents to be studious at home meant that despite the language barrier, I found myself propelled to being part of the cohort which would be described in current terminology as being at “Greater Depth”.  Transition to the local Catholic Secondary school was seamless and I continued to hold on to my position in the “top set”.  My school reports read exactly like Ross Geller’s in series 7 episode 13 of the iconic US sitcom ‘Friends’ “Maths A; Science A; History A; PE… made an effort.”

In the Autumn of 1982, teenage curiosity got the better of me and without permission, or my parents knowledge, was opening the post of lodgers who had been renting rooms from my parents but had moved on.  One item of post was a credit card.  Fascinated by citizen band radio at the time and the early electronic games consoles, I attempted to buy a radio handset and a games console to the total value of over a hundred pounds from a High Street store on the way home from school.  Not being a particularly tall teenager and still dressed in my school uniform, the store staff reported the attempted fraudulent transaction.  That afternoon and evening, I had turned from Grade-A student to juvenile offender.

My school life transformed too at that same moment as most of my teachers made me feel different as did many of my contemporaries.  Those who were scholarly sets no longer wanted to associate with me.  Those who were less so seemed to want to be in my shadow as I had been arrested by the Police and was facing a criminal record.  It was the Head of Year whose pastoral support, care and guidance made sure that after the Police caution I received, I did not let such experiences affect my studies.

But affect them they did so rather than entering my year of 16 plus examinations which at the time were organised by GCE O-Levels and the broader Certificate of Secondary Education standard, I scraped the bare minimum standard to secure a place to re-sit my GCE O-Level examinations.  A combination of pure personal determination with the support and encourage of my teachers meant I made the best of that opportunity to achieve enough passes to be given the opportunity to study for the gold standard of Maths, Physics and Chemistry at A-Level.

Unfortunately, teenage angst kicked in again so that by the end of that first term, first year of A-Levels, the Head of Sixth Form and I agreed that I should leave school at the earliest opportunity.  I left in the Spring of 1986 but still determined that when I was in full time employment, I would save enough money to return to full-time study.  However, the attraction of earning a full time wage and the financial independence that came with that meant I never did pursue my dream of studying full time again.  Instead, I managed to secure a place at Birkbeck College to study for a degree in Economic and Social Policy on a part time evening class basis.

Even though my degree classification was a modest “Desmond”, the year I graduated was the year that Tony Blair became Prime Minister with his New Labour administration.  His policies was a cataclysmic shock to the Government Department I was working for and as a direct result, I secured promotion to a middle management position.  By the time Gordon Brown was at the helm and realised that the money had run out for public services, I was offered the opportunity of voluntary early severance from the Civil Service.  So after almost twenty-four years of being a desk-jockey, I took the offer of severance pay to become a teacher.

That was ten years ago almost to the day of me writing this.  My teaching “career” has not exactly been smooth and I have had to learn to do many things either as new or just simply different.  However with exceptionally supportive senior colleagues at the school I have been working at who I’ve coined as having a “can do and want to” attitude, and providing professional development opportunities I would never have expected, the aspirations I had as a teenager of becoming a teacher has become reality.

Thank you for reading.   

Adventure

One of the #DailyWritingChallenge topics was "Adventure".  This is a bit of a cheat since its nearly 2,900 words long and was orginally written in 2005.  However, this piece of writing is one that I am not only really proud of but also wrote using an electronic device called a Personal Digital Assistant at a time way, way before smartphones or tablets even existed...  

Thursday 27 October 2005

Well, what an epic adventure that was.  I’m writing this at the moment sitting upright in a bed in room whatever it is of the Shangrila Lodge at Lukla Airport.  When I say Lukla Airport I mean the Lodge is right opposite the short take off and landing runway at Lukla.  The lodge itself is curious in that it doesn’t have any electricity in the rooms but has lights in parts of the hallways.  The Lodge itself is as far as I can gather a predominantly wooden construction internally where the rooms are lit by candlelight.

Although I haven’t written for a few days - well since last Saturday to be precise, the epic adventure is that despite the time restriction for getting to Base Camp Everest last Sunday, I managed to achieve that although not without incident.  What happened was that we as a group were told by the tour leader before Sunday’s walk that the plan was for an early start from Lobouche to walk to Gorak Shep where those who wanted or were able to would go on to Base Camp.  Because as I subsequently found out, the terrain was treacherously difficult it was necessary for the safety of the participants and the Sherpas accompanying us to be at Base Camp by two o’clock that afternoon to ensure all would return to Gorak Shep by five o’clock and sunset at the latest.

Because of the times that Vicky and I had been coming in at during the earlier parts of this expedition, effectively an hour longer than the suggested or advertised walk times, our strategy was that if it wasn’t possible for both of us to make it to Base Camp, at least one of us would.  As it turned out, that was me.

So, in order to achieve this I stayed walking alongside Vicky on Sunday morning out of Lobouche for as long as I could before moving paces ahead so that I arrived at Gorak Shep to allow myself sufficient time to arrive at Base Camp by two o’clock.  In the event, I arrived at Gorak Shep with sufficient time to have some noodle soup for lunch as the tour guides had organised before leaving as part of the group to Base Camp at just after a quarter to eleven for the three hour walk.

For the first part of the journey across the flat out of Gorak Shep and climbing up the Khumbu Glacier (which is a bit of a misrepresentation in itself as far from being a glacier its actually a very soft, sandy narrow ridge of crumbling rock) I was immediately behind the lead Sherpa and moving at a fairly cracking pace.  It wasn’t until about half past midday that I needed a toilet break and although I had told one of the Sherpa guides and as I thought a fellow trekker, by the time I came out of my toilet break continuing on this glacial ridge, with the next turn-off approaching I realised I was lost.

Fortunately, and quite incredibly a group of walkers - a couple of whom where middle aged Scottish ladies and a younger woman who I had met earlier on last week during the stage to Naamche offered their help and said they were heading for Base Camp and I could become part of their group.  At this stage, I was happy to do so and explained to them and their Sherpa that I wanted to be able to be reunited with the group I was expected to be with at Base Camp by two o’clock.

Well, the pace that my new group were going were as the younger woman explained certainly expecting to achieve that.  So I was kind of happy. Until by two o’clock and the reassurances of their Sherpa guide ten minutes earlier that we would have arrived at Base Camp the Sherpa then explained that Base Camp was still at least ten if not twenty minutes away.

As I then thought I would never be reunited with the group I was meant to be with and more importantly with Vicky, I just ran ahead over this hill of slippery and ice riddled gritty, grainy grey soft screed repeatedly shouting “Charity Challenge Diabetes UK” as loud as I could in the vain attempt of attracting the tour guides I should have been with and my fellow trekkers.  What I didn’t realise was that the ground I was standing on really wasn’t suitable for running in. A combination of the softness and the steepness meant that I lost my footing and fell over at least four times - at one point falling backward and into a bit of a roll downhill.

The time at this stage was a quarter past two and I managed to muster as much of the remaining energy as I had to continue my mad scramble towards the crashed helicopter that marks the site of Base Camp where I was gladly reunited with my fellow trekkers.  Unfortunately, by then I had missed the group photo opportunity and they hadn’t thought to hold on and include me in subsequent shots.  But I can proudly say and have the photographic proof that I have been to Base Camp Everest.  As Vicky reminded me today when we returned to Lukla for our return trip to Katmandu, in reaching Base Camp Everest, I have reached an altitude equivalent to half the summit of Everest itself.

Coming back to the risk of the Kumbu glacier ridge, it wasn’t until my slow and exhausted return from having spent every last amount of energy I had on my personal full on assault to Base Camp that the Sherpas guiding me back to Gorak Shep explained that it was necessary to ensure that all those who wanted to visit Base Camp returned well before sunset because the Kumbu glacier ridge, being less than three feet wide in places was highly unstable.  The rock and sand forming this ridge was so soft that being at the bottom of this former glacial ridge ran the risk of being crushed by rocks from above.  Being on top of the ridge ran the risk of loosing footing and having nowhere to go but following gravity to a sheer drop below.  When I was walking along the ridge I had no idea of these risks and am so glad that I didn’t beforehand.  I can well and truly say that I think I’ve overcome any fear of heights that I had before I embarked on this trip.  And whilst my experience to Base Camp wasn’t quite what I expected in terms of being able to have a proper “I’ve been to Base Camp” photoshoot I can proudly say I’ve done it and all in the aid of Diabetes UK.

The postscript to the story is that I think that the reason why I became “lost” from the rest of the group I was supposed to be with was because the Sherpa guides who were accompanying the tail end of the group walking behind me I can only assume turned back to Gorak Shep with those who decided that they would not be able to arrive at Base Camp within the designated time.  It therefore meant that with me being in the middle of the pack I must have suddenly become the back end as it were and unaccompanied at that.  Although it is nobody’s fault in particular, it emphasised to me how important it was to stay within sight of a Sherpa guide.

The other experience I had which made me stop and think was earlier on today when Vicky had gone on ahead with a couple of others after I was having a bad morning on the return leg from where we camped last night (whose name escapes me) on the slog to Lukla.  Despite having had a refreshment break at one of the tea houses en route less than half an hour earlier my body said I didn’t want to walk anymore in the hot sunshine.  So I sat down with the Sherpa guide who was accompanying me to eat one of the cereal bars I was carrying and to quench my thirst.  Because of this I was at least five if not ten minutes behind Vicky and the others.

By the time I caught up with those immediately in front of me, two of the guys who were with Vicky and had sat down for their own break explained that they had followed a different route from the one I took and had shared their energy bar supplies with Vicky as she had gone low sugar.  They were expecting her and the Sherpa guides accompanying her to appear from where they had walked from.

Realising that I was carrying Vicky’s sweet stock as well as all the cereal bars for today’s walk after waiting a few minutes and seeing another of the Sherpas go on to the lane where Vicky was supposed to have been, and the buzz of a rescue helicopter overhead, I decided to follow the Sherpa with nothing but the sweet and cereal bar stock that I had been carrying and ran after the Sherpa to where Vicky was.

I was glad I did for apart from being reunited with Vicky she was able to use the supplies I had brought her to bring her blood sugar level back to a point where she was able to continue with her walk.  What astounded me though was through the adrenaline of thinking about Vicky an her predicament I thought nothing of running along this narrow sandy ridge to where she was resting and trying to recover her blood sugar level.  As soon as she was back on her feet and making her own way along this narrow lane back to the main route we were following, accompanied by the two Nepalese speaking doctors working on our trek with me carrying her rucksack I realised the narrowness and softness of the route I had just run along.  Again with a sheer drop out of the corner of my eye it slowed me to a virtual cliff hugging crawl.  When one of the doctors realised this, he offered me his walking stick with which I regained the confidence in my legs to move a little bit faster to resume on the main route.

Other than that, without looking over the earlier entries I can’t think if there was anything much else to say except that over the last few days being part of this charity expedition in aid of Diabetes UK has been a real emotional and certainly physical challenge.  Now that we’re back in Lukla where the adventure started just under two weeks ago, I can say that it has been an amazing experience for me.  The parts of Nepal that we’ve visited particularly around Sagarmartha National Park and the perimeter “buffer” zone that has been established coming out to Lukla have been amazingly beautiful.  The Sherpas that I’ve met are some of the most amazing people I have had the opportunity to meet so far.  Vicky and I would have liked to have been able to express our gratitude for their support and assistance during our own endeavours over the last two weeks with more than the amount we were expecting and had allowed ourselves (as in budgeted with the spending money we brought out with us) to contribute.

As for our participation on the trip, I really had thought especially after the stage up to camp at Naamche Bazzar that Vicky and I would end up getting an early flight home.  In the event, we remained consistent with our standard and effort completing each part of the expedition within an hour of the suggested or advertised walk times.  There were points during the last two weeks when I really and truly thought that I wouldn’t be able to carry on or that being part of this trip was too frustrating in itself - particularly when I was wanting to move at a faster pace than we had been either because I was worried about not being back at camp by sunset or because of the onset of cold and inclement weather.  Although there was only one occasion when we didn’t make back to camp before sunset and required the Sherpas to guide us back by torchlight, I cannot believe even with that experience how much Vicky and I along with everybody else on this trip has been able to achieve.

On a purely personal level, and not wishing to count on other people’s misfortunes to think that ten percent of those who started as part of this trip were forced to drop out of which two actually required helicopter assistance to medical aid.  During the last fortnight the distance covered each day was at least ten kilometres if not more and the altitude gain during the “acclimization” phase was something like five hundred metres a day with the descent phase of over a thousand metres a day.  Apart from a little bit of a funny tummy when I first arrived I certainly did not suffer to the extent that Vicky and the others on the group suffered from the stomach upsets that they did.  Apart from a couple of mornings in the last couple of days with the breakfast routine I have largely enjoyed the food that we’ve been experiencing although I must admit I have been hankering after all the things I regularly eat or have access to foodwise at home - to the point that I found myself fantasising about them whilst I’ve been walking along earlier on this week.  I’ve certainly not experienced the ill effects of altitude sickness that we had been warned to expect and to try to avoid.  As for my asthma, that hasn’t even featured and I’ve not been taking any of the medication I had brought with me.  I had wondered on that score whether the cleaner as in non-metropolitan air was a contributory factor to my respiratory well being.

The only things I have been suffering from is this stupid cold that I seem to have acquired in the last couple of days with the runny nose and sore throat.  I wish I had also taken more care with the sun protection on my face and lips rather than going back to London with the flaky forehead, peely lips and nose.

I did or have during this trip reached stages where I have missed the creature comforts of home.  Being in the relative comfort of a lodge or the Nepalese equivalent of a hostel has made tonight easier.  But the fact that the toilets are of the “squat” variety and that the conveniences when we have been camping have hardly been convenient at all has been something I will not regret saying goodbye to and banishing to a distant memory.  The lack of comfort and washing facilities has had to take some getting use to.  As I was saying to one of the others on the trek that I would have thought more comfortable and convenient washing and sleeping facilities may have enabled fewer people to have been taken ill during the trek and more people to have included the excursion to Base Camp.  Sleeping in tents in sub-zero temperatures and staying in electricity free lodges that more closely resemble garden sheds with external toilet and shower facilities has not been my idea of fun or a holiday of a lifetime.

It also disappoints me too as I said earlier in this journal that the camaraderie of the group hasn’t or wasn’t as I expected it to be.  I realise from being on this trip that the amount of preparation for an experience like this and the physical as well to an extent the emotional abilities of individuals are very different.  For some, it has been a lifelong ambition to visit Everest.  For others, it is about combining the physical pursuit of following the route that we have with raising money for charity.  Some may see it as a life-affirming almost spiritual experience.  For me, it has been more about the physical challenge and its fund raising associations.  As I say, the last two weeks for me have been as much about a test of my own endurance in being able to complete the physical challenge of visiting Base Camp Everest.  To that extent, even if I do say so myself I am impressed with what I have achieved and what I have overcome to complete the challenge - especially during those times when I felt that I could physically not go on and was so “bored” and frustrated by the experience that I longed to be back in my routine rather than so far out of my personal comfort zone. 

What I have learnt from the experience has been the ability of physical endurance or being able to push myself beyond any level of physical endurance I have done before.  That Sargarmatha National Park is so beautiful.  Sherpas are the most amazing people I have ever met.

Kindness

The first time I think I truly thought of kindness was seeing a book describing random acts of kindness.  So, apologies in advance but I’ve decided that in order to describe kindness, for me anyway, is to kind of list how kindness makes me feel.  Maybe and perhaps you might recognise some of these.

Without reaching for a dictionary, to me kindness is that action that makes me feel good and positive about myself.  How my friend when I was at secondary school shared frequently shared delicious chicken sandwiches with me which were so good, I can still feel that memory and virtually sense its texture and remember how it tasted.  Thinking about kindness has just reminded me too of the times in hospital when I was first diagnosed with asthma.  How the adults who were caring for me made me feel when they held my hand or physically touched me to make me feel more comfortable.

Kindness could be that touch that creates a spark of feelings inside that are just so warm and good, reminiscing about such moments evokes those heart stopping, brain thumping sensations.  My earliest memory of having to stay overnight in hospital was at the age of eight.  During a prolonged stay, I received a handwritten letter from my class teacher.  The joy I felt at receiving letters throughout my childhood.  Winning prizes from random draws or competitions that featured in magazines I read at the time.  A souvenir fifty pence piece (we are talking 1970s here in case anyone doubted).  The “best selling” albums of 1985 including Dire Straits ‘Brothers in Arms’ and ‘Hounds of Love’ by Kate Bush on vinyl.  Receiving correspondence from Blue Peter (which for those who are not from the UK is one of the longest running programmes on British television) on at least three different occasions including one of their coveted and infamous special souvenir badges.

Thinking back to my school years, it was those friendships that formed inside the classroom that continued beyond the playground perimeter.  Some of those friendships were temporarily revived at the turn of the century through ‘Friends Reunited’.  Hearing from others how despite not feeling very popular at the time, so many voices reminiscing about how much of a positive impact my simply being around made them feel.  I hadn’t realised at the time that some of my friends were going through some really difficult family experiences and had found solace and peace in the ‘sleepovers’ my parents had allowed me to host.

I crashed and burned my way from school into the world of work.  The kindness and patient compassion that the Council or Local Authority employed Careers Counsellor showed in encouraging me to find and secure that first job.  How despite me walking out of that first job in less than a week simply because I was that teenager with those inexplicable teenager self-important thoughts, she remained kind and patient with her support for a further two months until I secured a post with the Civil Service.

My time in the Civil Service was not without incident where again kindness prevailed.  I had not yet reached my first anniversary of full time employment and yet to reach my nineteenth birthday.  The Government Department I was working for at the time was still in its infancy having been officially established three months before I joined.  Being at the vanguard point of the organisation, the Managers enrolled me onto a First Aid at Work training course held at the Department’s Headquarters by St James’ Park.  It was there I formed a friendship with somebody who still to this day, rightly or wrongly, I think about.  How in those early moments of our friendship, we had our picnic lunch in Parliament Square or St James’ Park.  I remember our evening telephone calls that she made to me even though I would see her at work.  How she would make time to visit my office as we were working on separate floors.  How we celebrated my nineteenth birthday.  Meeting her to visit Kew Gardens.  Going to the Barbican to see a concert.  It was at the point that I realised I wanted more from our friendship that she announced she had decided to resign her role to travel to China of all places.  Her disparaging thoughts about working in the public sector made me question my own professional identity to the point that I resigned too.  Once again it was a decision fuelled by tempestuous teenage thoughts rather than hard professional reasoning.  When after a month I spoke to those I had been working with, their kindness overwhelmed me as they welcomed me back with open arms.  I don’t think it was a question of repaying their kindness but I eventually stayed working for the same organisation for a further twenty-two and a half years.

Those feelings of when kindness turns to love of the romantic kind I experienced two more times.  Once was in 1991 which culminated in a very strange relationship which has its own story for another time.  The more recent moment was in the Autumn of 2002 when I realised that my new house mate was “the one”.  I’m off now to bring her a cup of tea in bed as we look forward to celebrating our seventeenth wedding anniversary with another day of home school to look forward to with our 10 year old daughter and 7 year old son in these chaotic and confusing times…

Thank you for reading.  #stayhomestaysafe    

Optimism

In these chaotic and confusing times, dig a little deeper beyond the sensationalist headlines which bombard our brains, shoots of optimism can be found.  One of the earliest since the World Health Organisation was officially alerted to “a pneumonia of unknown cause” on New Year’s Eve 2019, was how the restrictions to travel would bring down pollution levels and address many of the concerns about climate change.

Being given time to reflect too and significantly alter what is routine and mundane has also shown an appreciation of others that until now might have been taken for granted.  The supermarket shop has become almost as thrilling as taking part in a mass participation mid to long distance road race event.  Queuing in anticipation to be allowed into a store in waves.  Trying to ‘trolley’ if that’s such a verb as many items on the shopping list of essentials whilst maintaining that two metre personal exclusion zone in the style of a real-time arcade game from the 1980s.  My wife, who is a Nurse at one of the Central London hospitals on the very front-line of this “crisis” experienced first hand the generosity and kindness when our local supermarket had modified its opening hours to include priority treatment for key-workers like her.  At the end of the shop, one of the floor Managers presented her a bouquet of flowers from the display by the exit and simply said “thank you.”

There is also the optimism of learning new skills.  How to make a video of near televisual quality and share it on social media using existing equipment.  The optimism of watching or seeing the culmination of views and downloads.  Children and their parents as well as teachers collaboratively learning how to effectively use video conferencing.  Taking part in virtual, online chess tournaments.  Personalised piano tuition too.  Far from social distancing, the policy of #stayhomesavelives has seemingly bought people closer together.

Concerns over screen-time over exposure has meant many have resorted to books and board games given the additional leisure time that seems to have been created.  The optimism of opening a never previously read tome and being exposed either to a new or maybe familiar voice in fiction or the opportunity of filling in knowledge gaps.  Some like the #DailyWritingChallenge group have chosen the optimism that a blank document brings on screen and choosing to fill it with thought.  There are those of course who prefer a more classical approach and continue with pen on paper.  Indeed, buying a bound hardback notebook was one of the last actions I did on the day that schools were closed to the majority of learners.  Opening the book for the very first time and turning to that first, clear page evokes memories of that first day of the new school year when the whole year ahead seems so full of optimism and opportunity.  Similarly with unpacking a board game for the first time is reminiscent of that sense of optimism birthdays and Christmas combined.

Through the aversity of having to endure the chaos and confusion and at times dystopian surrealism of what life has recently become, many are able to look ahead which such optimism to when normal resumes because  #EverythingWillBeOK.