Perspective

It's traditional to write a new year blog post. I'm not very traditional.

The big news at the moment is the Israeli assault on Gaza in apparent retaliation for the rockets that Hamas has been firing into Israel. No opinion on that here, but I think that I'm more knowledgeable on the subject than the average Brit. Even at school, I did a whole semester researching the background of the conflicts. The course was called "West Asian Studies". Clearly that's a better name than "Middle Eastern Studies".

Also from much earlier school history classes, I recall early ignorance about why Upper Egypt was shown below Lower Egypt on maps in history class. Of course it's obvious now. But because we are so used to arbitrarily seeing North at the top of maps, it confused this poor schoolboy. I know there are some novelty maps (typically Australian) that reverse the world, but actually I don't think these maps should be "novelty" at all, there should be more varieties and perspectives, then it's harder for little kids to grow up with flat earth or other biblical misconceptions.

School Ties

This is unusual, but almost a short "this is what I did today" post. Perhaps it is justified because the last two posts have been comparatively lengthy pieces about the tenuous nature of measurable marketing (about which I could write books), and also because at the lunch today I promised to provide some "publicity".

The lunch followed an informal alumni meeting. And I heard that Woodstock School appears to be having some trouble with recruiting and retaining staff, and also with attracting students from its traditional sources. I am sure it could get more than enough students if it just filled the intake with all the newly minted from India's growing middle class, but that would dilute the well balanced diversity that was so prominent twenty years ago.

I have neither the space nor the authority to provide details here, but there are various programs available to allow high school kids from Europe and America to spend an exchange year in the Himalayan foothills, and equally there may be contracts available for qualified teachers willing to spend some time there.

This is the official school website. I should confess that I disagree with the stated christian ethos, but other than a request to "bow your heads" for a few minutes after assembly while the principal waffled a prayer, I did not find that religion was forced upon me. Back to the brave new world of proper marketing tomorrow.

Oval balls

There is going to be a lot of focus on rugby over the next few weeks as patriots and xenophobes and decent English people revel in vicarious victory. So an alternative point here.

As mentioned earlier I went to a whole load of schools, but I recall only one of those where the winter sport was rugby. The cliché about games teachers being sadistic bastards has only a small amount of truth. It was only the cross country runs we hated - football was better but I genuinely enjoyed rugby too. Except for one thing...

As a kid I always played outside, and even now, unless injured, I choose to play football outdoors at least twice per week throughout the year regardless of wind, rain, or snow. But I wrap up. And thanks to the hated foreign invasion that has made the Premiership the "best league in the world", even professional footballers can now wear gloves or undershirts. Yet as a schoolkid playing rugby in midwinter, I just remember being cold.

I genuinely don't know the clothing guidelines for school games today. But I hope they have learned.

The Language Instincts

Our brains work differently as we get older. Not just in the obvious things, but also I think in the fundamental structure of neurological connections. I threw in a bit of German a few notes ago. I found it very easy at school and did the GCE after just two years. Perhaps it was the rules and the logical structure, after all maths and science were also very easy. Yet I struggled in French. I never knew why. If this post is wrong, then I still don't.

Yet now I can converse ok in French, and albeit more slowly, can also read and write Spanish without any problems. More practice is a partial reason - most German speakers that I have encountered over the years have been fluent in English, whereas a fair proportion of the French and Spanish have not been. And I spent far too long at school concentrating on my French teacher's cleavage instead of her lessons. But that does not explain it all. I simply find languages easier now.

We rarely get something for nothing in this life, so I can no longer do complicated equations in my head. This is apparently normal, revelations in maths or science are rarely made by older people. But that's a fair swap for me, I'm a more rounded individual now…

… not only in the beer belly :)

There can only be one

One of those occasional random personal posts. Top five reasons why Highlander is the best film ever.

1. The story. Perhaps it is not just a great long fight, maybe it has a deep resonance with ancient Hindu and Buddhist philosophy, trying to escape from an endless cycle of rebirth to strive for nirvana.

2. The casting. Christopher Lambert carries this constant air of unworldly detachment, and you can never quite place his accent. But that is only what you'd expect for a five-hundred year old global wanderer.

3. The cinematography. Phenomenal. It never just fades normally from one scene to another. It fades, it flicks, it flashes, it astounds.

4. The action. No magic wands, no ugly guns, no fluffy lightsabres. These are heavy metal clashes, heads really roll.

5. The soundtrack. On top of everything else, one of my favourite bands ever did the music. You can't ask for more. Simply magic!

Not Charlie Brown

A daily blog note starts with some little trigger that I have seen or heard or done within the last 24 hours, then heads off to some generalisation or attempted witticism about the world. It is not often that trigger leads back to little old me.

Yesterday I met up with a few old friends from school. Which school? About two years is the most that I ever spent in any one. From east London to Essex to southern Africa to south London back to India to the north of England, I've experienced every different kind. And I got on ok at every single one. I was not bullied. I have no traumatic childhood experiences to relate. Yet when I refer to my school, there is only one that I mean.

Woodstock is a strange little community in the hills of northern India. Though only a tiny fraction of the size of any comprehensive in the West, it housed the most diverse group of kids from every corner of the globe. From children of christian missionaries to Indian expatriates to foreign diplomats to refugees to locals to those who just couldn't cope in the lowlands, we had every kind of freak that you can imagine.

And so it fit perfectly :)