Tag: old England

Under The Big Tree – 27th July 2023

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ 4 Comments

A revelation of the vastness
Of the universe
*In the scale of the world
Ego diminishes*

Sitting under this big night sky
Lonely but not alone
A life lived put into context
Must be made one’s own

Ten thousand years will pass
Turning all to dust
Footprints left waiting in the mud
Maybe seen by none
When gods decide on supernova
No one will wonder
About all the thinking
Under the big tree done

* quote from David Elikwu
Submitted to Reena’s Xploration Challenge #320

Today I’m feeling:

Sleepy, not helped by the fact that morning classes were cancelled so I had no flow going for that time. It’s super hot and humid and no one wants to study. I still have class this afternoon but luckily I talked with David who said that the class were behind in his work, whereas they are ahead in mine so instead of teaching them I can let them catch up for him. Happy happy.

Today I’m grateful for:

The English Cheddar cheese chips at Makro that hopefully will stay available and not just be a short trial to see how well they sell. They remind me a little of old England and the regular chips flavours that I grew up with like cheese and onion, salt and vinegar or ready salted. The flavour combinations here in Thailand are wild to me though obviously understandable. I sometimes need familiarity.

The best thing about today was:

Making some deeper connections with some of my quieter students in a more relaxed space than just in the classroom where their bored little faces stare right through me. It’s easy to connect with the studious ones and even with the ones who don’t understand anything but the quiet ones take a bit longer.

What was out of your control today and how did you handle it?

The whole school schedule is out of my control as I discover changes with very short notice and it has taken me some time to adapt myself to this. Now I’m more able to roll with the punches and today has certainly turned out in my favour.

Something I learned today?

Thaksin is due to come back to Thailand next month after 15 years in exile. I’m wondering if this could be a move to quiet any issues with the winners of the recent election not being part of the government? The machinations of politics in Thailand are difficult to follow but it all seems to come back to one word – corruption.

What would I like to accomplish soon?

This feels like a question for a younger person. Do I need to accomplish anything? Sometime soon, I need to clean my room and move my stuff back in there from the house. Hardly a big deal.

I don’t have any big goals or anything. I have plans but they are just things that will happen without much input.

I’d like to lose my belly fat but it also doesn’t really matter if I don’t because I can feel my health has improved in general. 

This feels like a tough question to answer for me right now.

Rista took this picture because she grabbed my phone to take photos of herself and Namkhing. This is my lizard eye. One that I never notice in my soft mirror at home. I must stop smiling.

The majestic willow – 11th September 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Ring-a-ring-a-ling. At the front door of the manor house, we strike the old ship bell, hanging glumly by the door, like a statue more than a device, not a temptation for most, I’d venture, as a more normal doorbell sits right next to it on the wall, but a huge invitation for our playful minds. Ring-a-ring-a-ling.

Dodging fast storms brewing up in the olde-Englysh heavens, wind sweeping each new development along in a flash, one second bright warm sunshine tempting off pullovers, next second torrential downpour of warm wet sees us scurrying for cover under the trees. The cricketers carry on regardless. We all know it will pass by in a matter of a blink or two.

So dodging these slight nuisance rainfalls, we end up at Lower Farm, a converted old farmhouse with twisty apple trees and the most delightful sweeping weeping willow, majestic, from the earth, skyward towering, then falling back in a dance of tears. Around the perimeter, the flower beds, the villagers stand behind their stalls, like a half-hearted car boot sale (minus cars), selling old toys or tempting us to play their games.

A traditional small English fete, with most of the villagers participating, all monies donated to the church (more on that later) and in fact, most I’d imagine, buying or donating money to each other’s stalls.

When I say half-hearted, I’m only comparing to more extravagant affairs and don’t intend to sound so mean because this was a quaint, peaceful playground for the village, so English, as only the English can be. Imagine this tiny village, probably no more than a hundred dwellings and many of its people gathered here in hopes of keeping its community spirit alive, fighting off the evil of big city life invading from the North in the shape of Milton Keynes and its parish council takeover bids.