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It is almost four years since I sat in my dissertation oral exam answering questions on my final year research project. I had obviously bored the examiners, for with about five minutes left the question left the topic, and moved onto my plans after graduation. One of them asked if I was considering a PhD. 


"Good heavens no! Why would I want to do that?" I replied.In hindsight, it might not have been the most subtle reply to the two professors with 80 years combined lecturing experience, but hey, I still passed.


At the time, I figured I still needed my niche within my family - i.e. not having a PhD. And frankly, I was somewhat fed up of university by then, having spent four years there.


I got thinking about this while helping the Dodgess check through her PhD thesis, which she has now printed out 3 times for submission. Each time costs the earth about 5 trees, and almost as much money by the time that binding and posting the thing from Singapore to the UK by courrier is taken into account. It does strike me that my parents had it better with their PhD. Perhaps they have rose tinted specs.


My Dad completed his final write up within a tiny amount of time, and it came to perhaps 20000 works. My Mum's is even better. Having had a useless day proving something that she didn't want to prove, she went to a party, and found that someone was interested in what she had proved. She went home, and picked the proof from the bin et voila, le Thesis est complet.


I have to say that I don't really think that things are bad just for The Dodgess. My elder brother had some almighty wrangles with an almighty univeristy to get his day under robes. His girlfriend wrote her thesis, only to find that the experiments she thought would show something didn't quite. And as for my younger brother, well he hasn't yet started. But I hope that it ends rather more smoothly than it's inception and offer.


So, with all this, do I still feel that my gut reaction was correct all thoses years back. Sort of. On the one hand I have had none of these issues above, but The Dodgess' PhD has been great for me to watch develop. It has taken us to Dublin, Washington DC, Boston, and best of all Vancouver. We have also explored every good music shop in every city we've been to scouring for second hand treasures to analyse.


And for each of the down times (the second list of corrections, a mad Canadian wanting us to sign confidentiality contracts) there has, I think, been an upside. 


So, here's hoping that all the printing is now done. That by the end of the week the last mailing is done, and that we don't have to see 'Ellie' again until she is nicely bound together, and sitting on our bookshelf!

The joy of rain

Having spent years and years complaining about rain it felt somewhat ironic when writing in an email to a friend 'thankfully the rain came at about 4pm', but the truth is here - I LIKE THE RAIN.

What I really mean is, I like days when it rains - I'd rather not be caught in the rain. You see, over here the rain is only ever biblical. You never get a shower. You never get a little drizzle. It's like a quarter turn tap - it's either on full speed or off.

However, the rain tends to come when it is most needed - i.e. the place has gotten rather too hot. On Saturday it was a mere 35C at 3.30pm, the humidity must have been pretty high, and just walking around the flat felt like walking around in a steam room. Then the clouds came, we had a pretty spectacular thunderstorm, by 4.15 the temp was 25C, then sun was back out, and it was all pleasant once again.

Of course - getting stuck in the rain is not quite so funny. The rain tends to reduce visibility to about 500m, which is pretty good going. Within minutes the highways have turned to mini rivers, and the requirement to design for 200mm of rain in one hour becomes justified. It also seems to work - there is prettly little in the way of ponding out on the roads!

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Getting around

I used to really hate buses in Birmingham. You could get aclimatised to them and they didn't seem so bad, but I think that was more to do with passive smoking of pot than any actual reduction in disgust.


But even on the rare occasion that they were clean, and the air reasonably smoke free, they still annoyed me. For a start, every bus went to, or came from the City Centre. Bar none that I can think of. (Actually, there was a bus once an hour that went from University to West Brom, but I'm not sure that once an hour actually counts as a service - just a bus). Consequently they were useless.


From my apartment here, there are about 6 buses, none of which end up at the same place, and they start from at least 3 different places too! And they are regular-ish. Most come every 10 minutes or so, and when I want to go to work they come every 3-5 minutes. (Slight pity about the way back, when they don't, particularly when the rain is as biblical as it was today).


Nonetheless, there is an actual bus network, and you can get almost everywhere on this island in a maximum of two buses.


Then there is the MRT system. Until about 5 years ago this was just 2 lines, which is already 4. The latest stretch opened on Saturday, and the Dodgess and I were among the first to use it on Sunday. It is very swish, even if it doesn't quite have the class of Washington DC did when it first opened. 


A 5th line is in construction, and they will shortly be designing a sixth. I myself am designing an extension to the very first one over near the bridge to Malaysia. After being in the UK, where everything is about using things better, about doing more with less, it is quite refreshing to have a client who has ambition, and an ability to see things done.

Brahms at the Esplanade

Last night I played my first concert in Singapore. It consisted of Brahms' First Symphony, and that was it.


Before any of you develop strange ideas, this was not a case of a strange Asian ritual where the spread a 45 minute piece over two halves of a concert - more of an educational concert consisting of excerpts first, and full performance second.


In the UK a concert such as this would spell disaster. Some complete unknown who couldn't speak English would read some unpenetrable guff, and 40 of the 50 people in the audience would leave before we got the chance to play the piece in full. Consequently it was with distinct aprehension that I turned up for the first rehearsal in a sports centre near the other end of the island.

The conductor, Lim Yao, has a reputation for being rather strict. In fact, he takes strictness to a level that an amateur orchestra would not accept in the UK. Firstly, there were no breaks. We played straight through for 150 minutes. He wasn't shy to criticise either - 'you're the lead cello, you can't just sit back as if you were back desk and not lead' or 'oboe - each week equally out of tune - why? can you not afford an oboe that can play in tune? You went to an expensive school surely you can afford an oboe?'


But, Mr Lim did always know what he wanted. And had both the time and resolution to get what he wanted. It's a long time since I've paid so much attention to a single piece of music - ironically enough, also Brahms.


The concert, held in the Esplanade, which is Singapore's version of Symphony Hall was successful - we had plenty of audience (certainly high hundreds), and the presenter was pretty good, the audience even participated - and ONLY when invited to. The full play through also went well. 


Afterwards the Dodgess and I meandered over to one of Singapore's top hotels. Why? One of her colleagues does a jazz night there each Thursday. So we popped in for half a session and a very chilled out fruit tea - one of the best ways I've ever come across to relax after a concert!

Here are some photos of the Esplanade (not actually from last night, but when I went to the opera the Dodgess played in during January. It is a really nice hall to play in - reminiscent of Symphony Hall, but a bit warmer. Incidently, designed by the same architect, but he gave up on the orange in favour of a green.

Ok - so we're not allowed to photo inside the halls, but this is pretty nice for the bar area!

Back to Bartering

Prior to moving to Singapore I think that I bartered for things exactly twice. Or at least twice that I can remember. When buying Ruth's engagement ring I was encouraged to put forward an offer - it saved me 10% which was worth it.

Perhaps the reason why I only bartered once in the UK was becuase of my previous experience, on a rugby tour to South Africa 10 years earlier. On that tour I offered a street vendor 5 rand for 3 wooden elephants. The seller's target price had been 6, and he immediately accepted my 5. Success! Or not - the guy obviously didn't earn much, and when I got back on the tour bus, I realised that I had bartered down his price by about 10 pence - enough for, well 10 penny sweets, but not much else. For him the 1 rand would have been half a meal... so suddenly I felt a bit guilty about it.

Here, however, bartering is pretty normal. I mean there are many places (probably an increasing number) where the price is just the price. However there are plenty others where the price is sort of a guide for opening negotiation. Consequently I bartered a storage yard down for the boxes we sent.


I have also bartered successfully for a squash racquet and shoes - I even got a toblerone thrown in with the squash (well - if I'm going to run around I need to energy). And I have also had some successful bartering on my half by the Dodgess' Mother - for a tailored suit - I didn't understand a word. Nonetheless she was saying things, and he was waving his arms clearly saying that the amount of material in my suit was perhaps rather more than most of their suits. (because I'm 6'2" btw - my BMI is about 22 - so it's not cause I'm a complete porker).


I quite enjoy bartering - but I'm not very good at it. I need to learn how to do it well. Perhaps I should just offer what I think is a silly price, walk away, and then come back after 10 mins and re-state my price. Being conspicuous will presumably help with this... I mean, how many westerners will come along and make ridiculous offers, and then come back 10 mins later to try again??

New flat

As some of you reading will know I've recently moved into a place of my own having intially stayed with the Dodgess' mother.

So - it's a two room condo. Effectively this is a posh version of a flat. It comes with two ensuite bedrooms, and an joined up dining room and lounge. The kitchen is adjoined by the maid's room, aboviously - as all good kitchens are. I think I left my maid in Cambridge about 8.5 years ago - she used to talk alot about maths or something...


Having just got the flat our boxes made it off the ship and into the flat. Most things in the ship made it safe and sound, though quite spectacularly our glass chopping board didn't, together with a couple of photo frames. I've still got about 4 boxes to unpack, but it's getting there. Slowly.


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I arrived in Singapore 9 weeks ago today, so that is 63 days. As I'm writing after dinner I guess that I have had 189 meals here. Of which I have cooked precisely 4.


This is partly unfair. I have prepared about 63 breakfasts for myself; toast is particularly challenging to get right. Even harder in our flat as I have yet to get a toaster. 


The primary reason of course is having the Dodgess' Mother prepare so many for me. But also, I am doing a lot of cello playing in orchestras, recording backing tracks for friends, that sort of thing, for which I lose the ability to eat at home. Such extravagance in the UK just couldn't happen. For a start I'd end up weighing, well, about what I did when rugby was an appealing sport to play. For a second my wallet just wouldn't cope with it! To put this into perspective, I can get a tasty dinner for under £1. Always under £2. If I want, I can get it cooked pretty much to order too - it's not just some cafe slop chucked on a plate. It certainly makes a nice change from the UK, where the £1 wouldn't even get me an out of date croissant!


Still, from time to time I do like to indulge in a bit of decadent cheffery, now that it is purely optional.

A golf course on Orchard Road

Those of you who read The Dodgess will know that over the Lunar New Year Holiday we went to visit the Istana, Singapore's White House. Needless to say it is somewhat lavish, as you would expect for the highest paid president in the world.

Even so, the grounds do put the efforts of other governments to shame, for, the grounds are no less than a golf course!!!

Now lets put this into perspective. The Istana is right at the heart of Singapore, set just off the equivalent of Oxford Street, or perhaps 5th Ave. And they have a GOLF COURSE taking up who knows how much space.

Lucky them. Here are a few photos:

 

 

We also got to have a look around inside a couple of the guest rooms. I have to say the greatest attraction of this was the super cold air con units... despite the murky skies, the temp was still somewhat over the 30C mark.

Inside were displays of the various gifts the government had received. Britain had sent but 1 recently, a pair of silver goblets engrave with Elizabeth II Regina and the Singapore Crest. Reasonably nice. Some countries had sent things that were distinctly unimpressive. New Zealand sent a plate. I think they got it from IKEA - well perhaps if Sweden had sent it I could understand!

Incidently, in case you think I'm kidding, I would have taken photos inside, but a very polite chap tells you not to. I often don't obey such polite chaps, but this one was holding a machine gun, so I did obey him. (Now you all know what to do if you want me to pay attention to you)