The Tale of the Unexpected Tailor

Gedu is the small town that straddles the main road from Phuensaling and Thimphu, the main artery of traffic between India and Bhutan. It's at the end of 12km of bumpy feeder-road that ties our school somewhat loosely to the rest of the world. There’s a Technical College there with a few visiting foreign lecturers – a solo Canadian, and an American family from the Waldorf school of schooling, as well as a Japanese PE Teacher that I'm beginning to think is mythical (she's certainly elusive). The family have brought their young kids for a year of GNH-infused education and to experience alternative cultures at an early age. I haven’t really made the most of their company because I’m so involved where I am, but they all seem like good and very interesting people.

The Road is Just Above the Cloud-line

 At the end of the feeder road, you find the hospital, which I’ve been to a few times, but not for anything serious. Then, Gedu School with the football pitch (scene of many a great free-kick, some not so great penalties and a splendidly English departure from a tournament). The road then winds up from the school to the first half of the town; a row of 12 or 13 buildings constitutes the metropolis. They all have shops on the ground floor and apartments above. I’m friendly with the shopkeeps now, and there’s a couple of cafes that I regularly visit. Taking the main road for a kilometer or less, you reach the other half of the town, which is more town-like with its multiple roads and its intersections. It's also more ramshackle.

A Typical Bhutanese Town House

Having abandoned my walking mission (see previous blog) and accepted the offer of a ride, I headed straight to this further side of town with Mr Rinchen and Mr Thukten to find a tailor. They both assured me there was a tailor there. They both told me they knew exactly where it was. Neither of them had the slightest clue. This wasn’t forgetfulness on their behalf – they were simply indulging in the pleasure of winding me up. You could tell by the way they giggled at my consternation. Rinchen answered a call on his mobile and we soon lost him in the fog. Thukten took me around a few corners offering no reply to my questions of where we were going and what he had in stall for me. When a friendly shopkeeper appeared in the mist, Thukten asked him where the tailor was. The kindly apparation pointed behind us: ‘Why, it’s right there.’ Thukten was beaming – he knew exactly where it had been all along. Likely story.

I turned around and saw… a stone wall. With a gap in it. Eh? Stepping through the gap I beheld a shanty house with corrugated iron on the roof and makeshift walls made of seemingly anything the architect could get his or her hands on. Eh? Thukten was uncertain too. As usual he was giggling. 

A Closer Look at the Tailor's

I marched on, ducking under the roof to get inside: ‘Kuzoozangpo?’ Nothing. ‘I think we’re in the wrong place,’ I ventured. Thukten tended to concur with chortles behind me. A few more steps revealed a cosy dwelling with…. sewing machines! The rumours were true. But the place was deserted. I rooted around looking at stuff while Thukten took charge of the 

responsibility to find someone.

An amiable woman came through a curtain and took the trousers that I offered for her consideration. She made it clear the pocket would have to be sacrificed for the L-shaped tear to be repaired effectively. I weighed up the loss – technical walking pants are overabundantly endowed with pockets, and managing them can sometimes be disorientating – and gave my approval. She did an outstanding job, I paid her 10Rp - a bargain. Off we went for lunch.

View From the End of Gedu (towards Pakshikha)

I Just Can’t Get My Feet to go to Gedu!!!

I've been here nearly 6 months now and I still haven’t used my feet to get to Gedu - a mere 12km away down the gravelly road - so I decided to do it last Sunday! I woke early – 7ish, did some washing up from the night before, which naturally led on to a complete clean of the kitchen before a hearty breakfast of porridge and a cup of tea. Then I dabbled with a song I’d recorded on the laptop the night before (such rudimentary recording – internal laptop mic, no decent effects, no mastering – I love it). This naturally led to me having a read of the recently written prologue to Jacks (novel), which needed attention as it was one of those ‘wake up in the middle of the night with the answer’ prologues. Time was ticking… but the Sunday was going well thus far…

Me and My Support - when he moves I fall over

Around lunchtime a couple of boys came in asking for the chess-board, which I gave to them to use outside, but they were back in moments, the elder of the two complaining about the other fellow's complete lack of understanding (the kid in the picture above). They lingered for a while looking at stuff, and then they started to tidy! Out came the brush. The rug was lifted. The clothes that were strewn on my bed were folded. Recycling was stuffed into bags (to be disposed of in unsegregated waste dumps – not sure why I persist with this, but I can’t allow myself to stop… ). The enthusiasm of the two boys swept me along and I joined in, gladly giving them gifts of half-wanted objects that we found along the way. In no time at all… we were done. It hadn't escaped my notice that I hadn't yet left for Gedu and it was getting close 1pm. So...

At this moment, in came Prem. He’s in Class IX and I like the lad, partly because he’s got an endless supply of infectious enthusiasm and partly because he’s just plain funny. He often appears at my door seeking water (we still have an issue with supply). The boy either has more thirst than a whole hostel of his peers, or more gumption to just keep knocking and asking. He has a tendency to tarry sometimes and I have to be firm and send him away. Living in the middle of two hostels demands a certain stern vigilance in maintaining one’s own private space! But as the Sunday was going so well, I thought I’d tarry myself, allow him to play guitar for a while and play a few games of Chess with him.

Prem - Playing My Guitar Badly But Enjoying Himself Nevertheless

Like most teenage boys (and Hawkish American Secretaries of ‘Defence’), he tends to charge in with bluster and gusto and then realize a little too late that his preparations for the outcome are ill-thought out. Imagine his disappointment when he finds his Queen standing alone in a field of angry pawns! We played 3 or 4 quick games and I gave him some advice about balancing risk with caution, attack with defence, which felt a bit like teaching a kitten to meditate. By now it was gone 2pm, and I still hadn’t left. Prem left for study, I hastily packed a bag and finally set off.

The Prayer Flags at the School Entrance

They call this season the Season of the Fungus. The school is almost always lost in diaphanous fog, and the air is laden with moisture all the time. Nothing dries here. My down sleeping bag seems like a silly choice now, as I can’t wash it for fear I’ll lose it to mould, and it needs washing. There’s a flip-side to every downer, and in this instance, it’s the environment. This is the season when everything comes alive. The trees go nuts with growth. Fireflies animate the nights like twirling fairy lights. (I found one on its belly yesterday, it's bottom blinking fluorescent green flashes, it's batteries slowly running out.) Birds, crickets, beetles, bugs and monkeys sing all day. The smell is intoxicating. It's sub-tropical! In a word, it's lush.

Off I went, marching through it all in my slowly dilapidating but still just about trusty enough boots (that have carried me up many a mountain). I stopped occasionally for water or to take photos, but leaving at such a late hour gave me little leeway so I powered along the road determinedly. I will reach Gedu! 4Km along the way, Mr Rinchen beeped his horn and opened the car door for me, whereupon I gave up the dream and took the ride. Ah well – the road isn’t going anywhere except Gedu, and neither am I, at least for the next six months.

Next up... Gedu and the Tale of the Unexpected Tailor.

In the Unexpected Tailor's

The End of a Term Looms... the story so far...

Posing with the Kabney and the Two Dorjis

The term is nearly over, the exams are looming, the papers are all written, printed and hand-bound ready for the students. Today was my last day of teaching. This is a significant milestone in my life here, so I'll mark it with a big blog entry and some random pictures.

Terms in the UK run for about 13 weeks, there's 3 of them, and they're split in the middle by half-term holidays. As a result we're never in the classroom for longer than 8 weeks at a time. The two week holiday that starts at the beginning of July here is the one and only break of the year – 2 terms, no half-terms! 

Before I came I thought this would challenge me, that I'd be driven into the ground by the seemingly endless weeks of work, but it's not been the case. On the one hand, there's been plenty of occasions for unexpected days off-timetable (visits of ministers, Pujas etc), and in some ways these bonus days off have a greater impact on general well-being than a shceduled break (like the joyful bonus snow-days in blighty). But in truth, you just don't get as tired here. Why? The students. I understand now what all the BCF teachers of bygone years talked about when they waxed lyrical about the kids.

School Trip to Gedu Sports Meet

To put this lack of exhaustion in context, consider the difference in my workload between home and here... in terms of periods... 31 periods per week here (55 mins)... 21 periods at home (1hr). And every teacher knows that extra periods multiply work load instead of adding – planning, marking, data management – everything goes up, so 1 extra period probably translates a few hours. Then there's the Head of Science duties, the timetabling responsibilities and all the rest of it. As a speedy typer with decent IT skills, I'm called upon to deploy these skills to a variety of ends – school brochures, Powerpoint presentations etc. I don't mind doing any of this – it's a genuine pleasure to find myself so useful in such a good place. 

It's perhaps much easier or one to quantify these efforts and skills than to quantify what I have gained in this exchange. I've learnt something about different ways to be in this world. Coming from a culture that has to some extent lost its way in terms of the civil society, it is heartening to exist in a place that is broadly civic-minded in its outlook, with people who genuinely espouse ideals that are redolent of the more positive aspects of socialism and generally live by the creed, especially in the way they treat each other.

*** DIGRESSION ALERT... I'm sure nobody cares where I camp out on the liberal-socialist axis, but it has given me much cause for thought since being here, this place being very much a socialist state, and my home being more liberal and less socialist. I've realised (somewhat disappointingly late in life) that you can't have the cake and eat it on this issue – it's either one or the other or a fundamentally tenuous and hopefully idealistic balance of both. ***

Back to the kids. The fact is that if it wasn't for the difference in the classroom, I simply wouldn't be able to do all these things and do them well. In Blighty, I'd be exhausted. Here, I am not. I've tried to put my finger on it a few times but without satisfaction. There's a few simple generalisations I can make:

• nobody is badly behaved in class. Some may chatter and be distracted, but at the worst they do it quietly and unobtrusively without disturbing others. Or they fall asleep.

Outdoor Assembly - My Favourite

• The high achievers have an incredibly mature approach and its a pleasure to spend extra time with them. I tend to spend the early evening sitting out on my porch, reading and waiting for students to come to me with doubts, which they do. I like it – keeps my mind whirring, especially when they bring A-level chemistry problems to me and I have to either go digging into the past or work it out all over again.

Students Attentive to a Guest Speaker

• The strugglers don't get frustrated and become disruptive. This means you have to work a little harder to root them out and get them up to speed, which is always difficult with such large class-sizes and with the language difficulties. There's definitely a correlation between language issues and academic development.

IX C - Just After a Rendition of Choe Ton Say...

Interesting point – the class sizes no longer seem at all daunting. 38 or 39 in Class IX (Year 10). Perhaps this has more to do with the attitude of student I've outlined above. Research from Blighty that I've been digging into indicates that the class is the biggest indicator of good results – but its not the size, its not the school, its and not the demographics of the students in the classes... all of these barriers to learning can be surmounted by the teacher, the most important and generally under-rated factor in both education and in the wider context of society.

My Friend and VP Gembo at the Sports Meet in Gedu

The Minister of Education here told us that teaching [might be] the only job in the world where the principle aim of everything you do is to make the world a better place, and you achieve this aim with every passing moment of authentic work with the children (who are the present manifestation of the future). Of course he's correct. And students are canny. They observe everything. They learn without you teaching – they learn what you do not intend to teach. They learn you! That's a responsibility. So...

Why am I the only one clapping?

...big up teachers everywhere for making the world a better place...

...and shame on you all the naysayers who give us a hard time and the slackers and losers amongst us who give our profession a bad name! And while we're at it boo and hiss to all those who turn a blind eye to the outcome of their professional lives, their gaze fixed on the filthy lucre. I think I've digressed again. It's hard to stay on track.

Yaks - for no reason

So why are the kids so well-behaved? They value their education. Not just for what it can do for them, (as the old wartime slogan goes) but for what it can do for their country. This is the socialism coming in again – there's an ever-present emphasis on the value of being a good citizen and contributing to the future of the country, alongside the fundamental assumption that as social creatures we are happiest in close-knit and supportive communities. The students also respect the teachers that are trying to help them, for which we can probably thank the religious culture of Buddhism that places such importance on the value of a good teacher. And of course they are diligent and work hard (HAH! Well, some of them do, but teenagers are teenagers and it would be foolish to get too carried away with this praise – a few select students provide me with frequent falling asleep comedy moments).

A Cow - for no reason

So, as the lovely cow to my left was just reminding me, exams will happen next week. I've given them every iota of advice I can give about exam technique - if any of them answer 6 questions instead of 4 in section B or leave the hall before the bell rings I'll be seriously disappointed. I've tried to share some revision techniques too, but I realise this will take a little more time and practice. Reorganising information is not their forte.

Black-necked Cranes

After the exams there'll be a great big pile of marking that I will stare down like a black-necked crane sizing up the Himalaya (or each other as they appear to be doing to my right). On completion of this onerous task, I'm free to roam for a few weeks and take stock of my experiences. Half-way through the year. Achieved more than I ever thought I would already. Made more friends than I thought I would, deeper and easier in company than I ever expected. I've had time for writing – the endless task of writing the weirdo novel is getting less endless. Perhaps I'll post some of it here sometime. I've recorded some music which may appear here soon too if I can figure out how to post audio. I've done more reading than I've done for years, which has been great (Hitch 22 the latest recommendation - an autobiography from a remarkable man with a remarkable life, sadly departed - RIP Hitch). My mother always said... a busy person gets more stuff done. I guess she was right.

Bumthang soon, the 'Switzerland of Bhutan', for a sway in a hammock and the company of the other BCF teachers... and to finish.... me in a fancy chair... life is good ;-)

2am in the Hotseat After the Longest Quiz Ever

Heroic Defeat... better than a Victory???

The Epic Inter-School Staff Football Tournament

7 schools. 2 leagues, with winners and runners up progressing to semi-finals. At the outset, I put our chances on a par with Greece in that Euro championship they won. It was possible, but far from expected. And on the eve of England's inevitable departure from Euro 2012 on penalties (if we get that far), this small affair in a school in rural Bhutan followed a script that... well.. we'll see... here we go, game by game...

Game 1 – Pakshikha MSS vs Kamji

Kamji were the whipping boys, the goal difference accumulators for the other teams. We won 7-3. I had the pleasure watching another free kick go in off the underside of the crossbar, the second in two games.

Game 2 – Pakshikha MSS vs Gedu School

This was our nemesis team from the previous games. We went in quietly confident, but by half time we were 3-0 down and playing awful. Everyone was playing as if they had no heart, no desire (like England in the last World Cup), so there was no running and no tackling, and any amount of organisational shouting was wasted energy. As we sat gloomily taking on water, various strategy changes were suggested and debated. I listened quietly and then invoked the spirit of a former captain of mine, Mr David Gamble of the illustrious AFC Bohemia, Bristol Downs League. 

Many-a-times our humble team had found ourselves in the same shoddy position and Mr Gamble, disregarding strategic debate would give us a brutally honest account of ourselves, lift us up by the collars and throw us back onto the pitch with just enough fire in our bellies to at least salvage pride, win or lose. I took it upon myself to take this role and gave a general rollicking about heartlessness. 

Off we marched for the second half, and within five minutes, I was taken down about 35 yards out. I placed the ball down. The wall settled itself. The ref blew the whistle. I stared that little ball down until it shrivelled slightly beneath my gaze and then... boom! In off the cross bar again! 3 in 3 games! Crazytimes! The team rallied and we won the second half 3-0, giving us a much-needed draw that felt like a victory and was celebrated as such with much dancing and merriment on the bus home.

Unexpected bonus time... the referee happened to be the full-back for the Bhutan national side, recently returned from a match against Afghanistan. He complimented me on my play, took my number and said he'd recommend me to his club manager in Thimphu, suggesting I go for a trial. Unexpected. Bonus. I humbly and with much anticipation await the call.

Game 3 – Pakshikha MSS vs Gedu College

Going into this game we knew we needed a draw to get into the knock-out stages. We started in the same fashion as we started the previous game – shoddily and without heart. At half time we were 2-0 down again. I couldn't see a way back. They weren't particularly good, but we were shonky. However, we managed to pull one back with some good play from our talisman forward - Amber (10 goals in 4 games). Gedu's heads went down, and then we got a stroke of luck. I lobbed in a hopeful cross and the keeper flapped at it, dropped it and it landed on Mr Gembo's chest. He couldn't miss. 2-2. We're going through! Sit back, defend. Hold it. NO! Burst forward and get fouled. 

This freekick was a few feet from the side-line, perhaps 20 feet from the half way line, too far to have a punt on goal. The Principal had just turned up to support us. He was on his feet. 'Direct', everyone said to me. So I just ran up to that ball and thumped it as best I could... in off the underside of the crossbar again! 4 freekicks in 4 games! Why didn't they ever let me take free kicks at Bohemia? Now... for the semi-final...

Game 4 – Pakshikha MSS vs Wangchu HSS (Semi-final)

We should have won. Then again, we shouldn't have won. The problem – we were all tired out having had no rest day, so we started the game with paining legs, whereas they didn't. But we started the game with surprising assurance, cruising into a 2-0 lead that we held until half time. I felt uneasy though. When we won a freekick at the end of the half, the small crowd that had gathered in the amphitheatre-style ground were chanting 'direct' in unison, expectations running high. I gave it my usual curly thump, and it struck the underside of the crossbar again... but...  it didn't go in. My lucky streak of freekicks was at an end. To make matters worse it landed at the feet of the talismanic Amber, and somehow mis-hit it into the arms of the keeper. 

The second half saw them Wangchu draw level – extra time. No goals. Penalties. Let's put this in context... I am English. I'm in the semi-finals of a football tournament. What chance do I have?

The Semi-final Penalty Shoot-out

It was decided that I would go first. I duly pinned my eyes to the bottom right of the goal, set my body to the same direction and then turned my foot and sent it left and it went in. I wanted to go back to my team to tell them the keeper was falling for the simplest tricks in the book, but the ref made the kickers go to the sideline. Not sure why. Anyway, we missed every other penalty we took. Whoops! And went crashing out in a heroic defeat, questions of matching scheduling lingering over our miserable exit... if only we'd had a rest day like they did? If only the open goal had been scored? If the freekick had been a millimetre lower?

Eyes to the Future...

So the team was somewhat dejected. My cheery reaction must have seemed odd. I tried to explain that it was in part due to habituation – the English cope much better with heroic defeat than with victory in football.  


The despondency soon lifted and we celebrated our exit in fine style. After all, we hadn't expected much and had progressed undefeated from the group! The team we lost to went on to win the tournament with a 1-0 victory in the final. I can't help thinking we would have graced the final with a few more goals and touch more intrigue, but it was never to be. All we have to show for it is our destroyed but slowly healing legs, but we'll be back...

Next time eh?

In the meantime, I eagerly await my call up to the big time! ;-)


Who would have thought there'd be so much football for me in Bhutan?

The New-Look Room... Jack... and the Rise of Fatty Greener

So, I've been here a while... Here's what my room looks like now.

My Living Room... a bit lived in (messy)

You can see my Ghos hanging up on the wardrobe doors, a strategy I've employed to avoid the embarrassment of having to ask how you fold them yet again. I will soon cave in and ask somebody. Blue picture on the wall - thanks Deborah. Curtains and mat from Phuensaling. Table cloth - a bedsheet, but can't imagine ever using it for that purpose. Everything blue as you'd expect from me. 
  

My Bedroom (you can see the living room on the right)

Photos of my family on the wall. Personalised calender hanging from the curtain rail - thanks Nicola. Kitchen not visible to the left. Or the toilet. Or the bathroom. Do you like my garden furniture? Of course you do!

The Somewhat Pathetic Runt of the Litter that I Show Preferential Treatment to Despite Being Fearful that this Could Breed Resentment in the Pack and Make Matters Worse For Him. 

I can report that since this picture was taken I've managed to feed the puppy up to a respectable size and he can almost hold his own against his brothers. Amazing what a diet of biscuits can do for a dog. He couldn't handle this much luxury though. It was cold, and I'd given him the manky towel as a bed, thrown him some scraps and had decided to let the little blighter crash for the night (praying for no 'accidents'). But then I took it too far and put the heater next to him. He was overwhelmed by all the attention and was soon tapping at the door for release. A few days later he returned and quietly sat on the towel and slept, waking me up at 4 to go have an 'accident' somewhere else, which I thought was very decent of him. Now I've stopped letting him in. Waking up at 4am is rubbish. And there's always the risk he'll go rabid and rip out my throat while I'm sleeping. Look at the savage little monkey! A ruthless killer in the making. I call him Jack.

My Yoga Instructions

These sketches were a gift from my friend in Rukubji, Iman. I'm doing my best to follow them, but as usual, it's hard to find the time. But I have a new impetus referred to in the title of this blog... 


A member of staff here recently asked me how I was doing. It was one of those conversations where you should instantly recognise the heartfelt and intended quality in the question - this wasn't a careless 'how' are you doing' sort of thing, but I was tired and I failed to observe this. I casually replied 'fine'. He then asked me if my health was good - was I taking exercise. I said 'fine' again. A pause proceeded my reply, as the kind-hearted soul allowed sufficient space in time for the penny to drop, which it finally did. Then with candour... 


'Well, to be honest, I think I'm losing all of my strength and getting a bit fat.' 


His reply... 'Yes, I've noticed'. Ayeeesh. I sought out second opinions and everybody agreed that I came here strong and will leave weak and fat if I'm not careful! 


Blogger is resolutely refusing to show this photo as it was saved, or perhaps it's the ineluctable bad-humour of gravity at work, but the belly is clearly further forward than the chest, a sure sign that a seachange is occurring my physiognomy, a change that must be arrested poste haste lest I find myself unable to haul myself up climbing walls or charge around the field of dreams with the gay abandon that has previously characterised my wingly endeavours. Action is most certainly required! 

So I embarked on a regime of football every night, even if there was nobody else to play with! Star jumps and yoga in the morning. Press-ups before bed. I immediately felt much improved, if not a little bored by the regime. But I didn't need to concern myself quite so much, because just around the corner was the big inter-school staff football tournament, the scheduling of which had clearly been orchestrated with my burgeoning belly in mind. 4 games in 6 days. And the default strategy of our team - 4 strikers, 5 defenders and me in the midfield shouting a lot and running around like several headless chickens. I've never been so thoroughly knackered from football.    


The next blog will definitely be about this tournament, for the unexpected opportunities it brought my way, for the surprise and most welcomed stats, for the rollercoaster ride of emotions it dragged us along, and for the outcome, which couldn't be more heroically and defeatingly English if I'd written the script myself. Who would have thought there'd be so much football going on? Not me. 

Here's a view from my school to finish up with...

Come Thee Hence to Bhutan....

It looks likes I've talked my Mother into a mind-spangling trip out East to Druk Yul, Land of the Thunder Dragon, Land of Gross National Happiness, Last Enclave of Tibetan Buddhism, Land of Sensible and Well-intentioned Politics, Heartland of a Rare Thing Called 'Inspired Leadership' (not sure how many of those titles are official).

So, the first tourist-tax-free-trip to Bhutan has now gone to the only bidder ... ... one still remains ... ... It's a once in lifetime opportunity to see if you can catch a Thunder Dragon without a proper guide (you get me instead - I have a sharp eye for thunder dragons and together we'll have the freedom to roam)...

As ever, the small print:

(we will either have to marry and fabricate a romantic past to get beyond the red tape, or if deemed more convenient, applicants may wish to seek a back-dated adoption from my parents) 

Alternatively...

The Bhutan Canada Foundation are currently recruiting for next years cohort of volunteer teachers.

• Do you want to experience life in a culture that values happiness over cash? 
• Do you want to escape the flimsy stack of crumbling economic cards that is Europe? 
• How about working in a classroom where chairs are used for sitting on instead of as projectiles? In a school where everybody says 'Happy Morning, Sir', and means it? 
• Do you want to give more than you've probably ever given in work and get more back than you can imagine? 
• Do you want to shake things up and remind yourself that YES!... life really can still have bonkers twists and turns in it? 

Did you answer YES to any of these questions, but don't know who to call...?

Call the BCF Team! Ba-da-da-daaaa....

They're really quite nice and they have a plan that seems to be coming together.

Here's some of the kids you might be teaching (photos from the follow-up science exhibition where the individual classes went in for half an hour each)...

Interested?

Some words of advice to the willing... you're coming here to be an exemplar, sharing your experience of more developed education systems and sharing skills, not just in teaching but in IT, language and other aspects. The teachers here are professional and well-trained - the teacher training here is a significantly longer affair than the perfunctory '10 months and throw you in a classroom' UK approach, so...

1. It helps to be secure in your teaching practice before you come. I say it helps... I think you should feel an obligation in this respect (to yourself and to the schools here) and rack up a few years before applying.

2. It really helps if your not coming here to repair some gaping chasm in your existence. Bhutan is not a self-help group and, contrary to some opinions, being here doesn't automatically facilitate life-changing enlightenments. You'll grow and develop in all manner of ways by being in this very special place, but your motive should be to give in the first instance.

3. As usual with teaching, bring your sense of humour. I can't imagine how any teacher gets by in a classroom without this, so it shouldn't be a problem.

4. And finally.... this isn't a holiday. be prepared to work hard. I'm working harder than I have at any time previous, but the rewards, as you'd expect, are also bigger. And you do get opportunities to go explore, though not as frequently as you might expect.

That's it. The frenzy of gratuitous formatting is over. I promise I will never use as many fonts or font sizes again. Why? On the one-hand its bawdy and nobody likes it, and on the other hand, this is 'Blogger' - like so many other platforms that we all persist with sans grumble, it is poorly designed, badly maintained and useless. God knows how you handle it without sufficient rudimentary html skills to deal with the sudden onset of white backgrounds or other such nonsense it throws at you. Reminds me of the decline of the humble supermarket donut - another shocking result of the complacency and lazy acquiescence of us, the decadent consumers of the world. What happened to the stereotype of the complaining Brit? We've no time for it any more. I digress... 

...now... download that application form and kick-start the Bhutanical chapter of your existence.

Happy Monday!