Leaving and Arriving

It's been a month, already...

It’s been 4 weeks since I was in Chester, unpacking, sorting and repacking, and trying to get below the weight limit for my flights on September 4^th/5^th.

There were very few passengers at Manchester

It was a painful exercise, made even more poignant by the fact that I ended up 5kg over the limit when I checked in, and was then obliged to pay a fixed surcharge of US$ 100 (- which would have allowed me an additional 20kg.)

I wept inwardly as I thought of all the things I could have brought in the extra suitcase for which I was now being charged. I could have held on to all the things that I had now left behind, packed in a banana box in Tina’s attic in Chester. It was a very sobering experience, but I was learning to accept the finality of my decision. 
I was realising that this time it was pointless to make mental notes about doing things differently on my return flight, or planning what things I should bring when I came back to India on my next visit, because this was to be the last journey for quite a while. There was no Lincoln address for friends to keep an eye on, and no thermostat to set for frost control. There was nothing lurking, forgotten in the back of a cupboard: Old Mother Hubbard would find that the cupboard was bare.

In Lincoln, my apartment was spacious and I used every inch of it. Here in Bangalore, the apartment is almost too big, and it is taking me time to plan where to hang paintings (the frames had gone to charity shops in Lincoln,) and arrange photographs to humanise the blank walls.

Those of you know me will appreciate that the kitchen has to be a priority, and I now have shelves and smart containers for foodstuffs,  rails with hooks for utensils and the essential magnetic knife rack for my chef’s knives.

I have an almost-new fridge-freezer and a nifty little convection oven / grill / rotisserie that is now conveniently wall-mounted. 
Tomorrow I shall bake bread.

I have a delightful study, situated at the back of the property creating a personal space that is virtually silent, and I have put white nets on the windows, softening the view out onto a vacant lot. The room is the perfect size for a snug study, and well fitted out with shelves and cupboards. I found a sturdy second-hand metal-framed desk online, and it’s the ideal size, without allowing me any space for clutter.

Maybe I can now calm down, because I have behaved like a madman for the past month, working frenetically, as if I had just been promoted to a new post, and had a desperate need to prove to the boss – and to myself - that I was up to the job. Which is, of course, a ridiculous way to approach this opportunity. I am an unpaid volunteer. I paid all my costs to leave Lincoln, obtain my expensive long-term visa and move to Bangalore. I pay all my rent, utilities and living expenses, and I manage on my (rather modest) pension. 
Why on Earth am I behaving as if I were living in the corporate world and concerned about my Performance Review?     
I suppose it’s because it’s been 40 years since I was part of a corporate structure, back when I was International Sales Director for SodaStream. Ever since then, I have lived on my wits, and had to ensure there was always enough money around to put a roof over our heads and food on the table, ( - the latter being not so difficult when I was running a restaurant!)         

Me with members of a Project Plus Ten After-School-Club
for kids who have moved on from Building Blocks

Right now, I need to tell myself that I no longer need to worry. Moving to India has meant moving to an environment where I have chosen to adopt a different way of life, and be perfectly happy to be the only white guy on the street – or in the whole suburb for that matter. That’s not a new experience for me. Back in 1963, Roger, Mark, Keith and I were the only white faces in a crowd of thousands celebrating Madaraka Day (internal independence) on the streets of Nairobi. That’s how you make the memories. I would not create the sort of memories I want if I were to spend my evenings propping up the bar of the Hilton or the InterContinental here in Bangalore, along with the expat crowd who populate the technology parks in this, India’s Silicone City.

With Chaitra and her mother

It’s roughly two and a half years since I decided to be the first donor to my own charity, Escape from Poverty, and sponsor Chaitra’s education. 
This weekend she had her 9^th birthday and I went to her After-School-Club to sing her "Happy Birthday" and have a photo taken with the rest of the gang.

Funding her education – for less than £1 per day - was one of the most rewarding things I’ve done. I get her school reports twice a year; she sends me a birthday card and a New Year card and I usually also meet her mother when I meet Chaitra. 
I know that my modest donation will empower Chaitra to break out of the poverty trap that has always imprisoned families like hers.

If you want to get the full flavour of what I’m involved in, take a week off and come to Bangalore for a few days in November, and join in the Building Blocks Celebration of Children’s Day on Saturday, November 10^th. The kids will put on a great show, and over lunch you can meet sponsors from all over the world. 
Come a day or two early, and see the schools in action: see the size of the problem and judge for yourself what we are achieving. 

Kids with Ambitions

Talk to the kids and discover the size of their ambitions. Join in and be part of making the change. After all the past months of Brexit wrangling, come and breathe in the positivist attitudes of kids who are determined that they won’t look back.

…and I’d love a jar of Marmite if you can fit one in your suitcase.