Organic-Ally

Some of you might recognize that this is the title of a 'classic' by Paul Willis. It tells how working class boys learn to become working class and take on working class jobs. We recently had a downstairs toilet refitted to make it easier for our aged visitors. It was put in single-handedly by a young man of 30 (30 is young to me now!) who originally came from Bosnia. Us here in the UK are very familiar with the tea-drinking antics of workmen. A point not lost on the author of the The Yellow Tractor , for example. But I was quite taken aback by how hard this young man worked. He was always on time. He never asked for tea or coffee unless I offered. I didn't even see him taking lunch (although I'd seen him drinking Red Bull twice). He cleaned up every day after he had finished. He was meticulous. If something didn't go as planned (like finding a loose floorboard) he would check with me, suggested solutions, waited for approval and then acted on it. He did not even tu...

Recently I sent this letter to the Straits Times : To be or to be – what is the question hah? “Should Singaporeans speak a standard English or Singlish?” is the wrong question. We need to “ go stun ” (back up a little) to ask whether Singaporeans need, or wish, to speak and write a language – any language – fluently enough to hold a sustained, logical and sometimes protracted discussion. Then only do we know how/which to choose. Many have observed that code-switching within a sentence (English, Mandarin, Singlish) is a common phenomenon in Singapore. My Sociology professor reasoned, “But you can’t translate the concept ‘ pek-chek ’, can you?” No, I can’t. I cannot even spell it. This difficulty in writing down the language is an intrinsic part of the problem. We borrow words like “ anomie ” and “ Weltanschauung ” in Sociology because there are no accurate English equivalents. Similarly, when discussing localisms the use of a Singlish term may be appropriate. However a lot of conversati...

This is a brag post. My son gave me permission to post his poem written some time in the last academic year. The teacher had gone over the structure of a poem and the pupils were asked to write another based on that structure. He wrote the first three stanzas in class and I saw him sitting at our dining table hacking out the last. As usual he refused to let me read any of his homework before submitting. ========== The Story of Tommy the Cat The milkman was driving in his multicoloured truck, When something jumped in front of him – a cat covered in muck! The milkman swerved, the milk truck tipped, and threw him out the door. The milk was flying everywhere and all across the floor. The cat now grabbed a milk can, and knocked the man half dead. Then dragged him to a building, and left him in a bed. He grabbed the milk, then ran away, and gave himself a drink. For the cat’s name was Tommy, and he needed milk to think. The milkman woke up in his bed, and thought it was all a dream, But Tomm...