That was actually
the title of a book by JL Carr, which, is summed up in the words of a reviewer
on Amazon.com in the following words: "At first glance this book is an
exquisite evocation of a lost England, a lost world. But I wouldn't want the
presumably mainly American readership of this site to think that it is all
Merchant-Ivory daydream material. Read this book and you will breathe in a
little of a slow summer evening air in a village where the past is so palpable
it almost overpowers the present and yet where life as we know it is lived. I
can't describe it with due justice, but this book captures a hint of the
multi-layered past and present that makes up rural England, together with the
way in which that past sometimes heals the present." The movie which came
out in 1987 was good, but the short novel, 135 pages in all, is truly a
remarkable read - and was short-listed for Booker prize in 1980.
Now, I did not
spend a month in the country, but did spend 10 days back in England. Prior to
that, I was in Germany for work - something that will be a regular occurrence
from now on. I left in England in 1994, and while I had been back a couple of
times since then, these times were mostly quick hops in and out. This time, I
went back, with the purpose of trying to meet up with as many people as I
could.
One of the things about arriving in London was how
familiar it was. Yet different. Like I knew the place, but at the same
time, realised it was no longer my patch, my stomping grounds. I had left it,
and returned, but it had moved on. I was reminded of the words of the Greek
philosopher, Heraclites who said that we would
not step into the same river twice - after all, by the time you step in again,
water has flowed... And yet is it the change
that makes the river: if it did not flow it would be a pond or a lake. Ahh...beauty
of philosophy. The only problem is that to balance the views of the
philosophers, one has to be able to accept different ways of looking at
things, and not try to reconcile the fact that many things in life depends "on
a certain point of view."
Wandering around the streets of Wimbledon where
I spent many years was even stranger: shops had changed, although the
street frontage had not. Just the insides really.
The nice thing about living in an ancient place is the old buildings, each
with their own character. The bad thing about living in a listed building is
that you can't make any changes without submitting loads of applications to
the local council for their approval - just in case you damage the nature of
the area.
Anyway.
One of the guys I managed to track down I got to know through the usual chain.
Literally, a friend of a friend of a friend. He was at that time, like all of
us, training to be a chartered accountant, but after I think the first year,
decided he had had enough. And jumped. The next person up the chain, also
jumped when she realised this what not what she was cut out for. The closest
friend in the chain and I actually got to know each other very well - he
features later in the narrative! Anyway. Gerard and I kept in touch for a
long time. He had a flat in Wimbledon and I lived there too - so there were
the usual drinks in town etc. After I left the UK in 1994, we sort of kept in
touch - the odd sporadic e-mail or two, but still kept in touch. Then one
day, my e-mails bounced back. I tried sending snail-mail to his parents
address and to his home address, and did not get a response. Attempts to
search the web for his name through Yahoo! or Google did not turn up any
result. Then, as I was planning this trip, I looked at his name in my address
book, and was about to delete it, when I decided to try Yahoo! again. After
all, he was in the IT line, and maybe, he'd leave a trail on the Web. And
yes, this time, I found a page and a quote. And sent an e-mail to the
general contact e-mail listed on the website. Those really strange e-mails
that read: "If you are the Gzzzz ABC of XYZ address, please get in touch.
Have been trying to get hold of you for ages!" And yes, it was Gerard. We
swapped e-mail messages, and he suggested we meet for dinner at one of our old
haunts, the Wimbledon Tandoori.
Another meeting that was slightly difficult to
arrange was that with Mark. Mark and I met 92 or was it 93? Anyway. Here
we were, two very different people, who somehow got along. In fact, after
Jean-Pierre had left Britain for Germany, he was the resident in the annex to
my aunt's home at 1 Lampton House Close,
where I was living. I had an e-mail address for
him. The only problem was that he was in the middle of remodelling his
house, and had disconnected his computer! Grrr.. In the end, I did manage to
pop over to his home, and meet his wife, and had a good dinner, and re-learnt
what a hangover was. Ouch. Honest! It has
been a while since I've gone from gin and tonics to wine to port. Phew!
Jean-Pierre was not the easiest person to track
down. Matter of fact, both Gerard and Mark were more than a little surprised
when I told them that I had lost touch with Jean-Pierre years ago. As a
matter of fact, a trawl through my archives shows that my last e-mail from him
was dated 2001! I know I must have seen
him in 1999, soon after his son was born because I remember sitting in
his living room with him. E-mails did not bounce back, but phone calls were
not returned. To be honest I had reached the stage of thinking about deleting
his name off the old address book, when I told myself to give it one more
try. And called his number. And yes he answered the phone. We had a picked
up the phone. We had good chat about things that have happened to us
in between times, and while he wanted to try to meet up, I just did not have
the time to do so. Days had been planned already. So perhaps, next time.
I also managed to meet up with a set of guys from
my days in Geneva: Peter, Simon and Tim had all been there with me in Geneva,
and had all moved back to London, while I had continued meandering round the
world. I had managed to keep in touch with Peter and Simon, but not with Tim,
so I was glad when Simon told me he had invited Tim along. Tim still the
party boy with the toys for the boys!
One person from my Geneva days whom I had thought
about recently was Michelle. How could I not think of her - after all good
old Hurricane Ivan was going straight for a direct hit on her
home country Jamaica! I did try to call her, but
it was not easy to get a line to Jamaica, and the one time I did get
through, I think I got a wrong number. However, a late night "one more try"
call worked and I did manage to get through to her. It was great just
listening to her voice and hearing about what she was doing etc. Anyway.
Despite the fact that she does not really write to me by e-mail, I was the one
who got castigated for not returning an e-mail she sent, which I cannot
remember receiving! Oh well. C'est la vie!
And then there
was dinner in Oxford with Dr Pepler and his wife Tracey. I met Mike when he
came out to Singapore on business 2 or was it 3(?) years ago, and dropped by
church. Got to know him then. All of us were so "sorry" for him because his
company put him up in the "Goodwood Park".Yeah right. Talk about one of the
oldest, and swankiest addresses to have! He was single then - Tracey hadn't
appeared on the scene yet, and he joined the church GAP group on some of our
escapades. Oh - then Rosalyn tried to see if we could meet up: I met Ros
and Tony in Moscow, and we became friends by spending 7 days together on a
train. Amazing how well you bond! However, that was not to be... no time.
Till the next trip!
Okay - all these old friends did set off in me a
whole train of thought. Well actually, more like a network of trains! I met
most of theses people at different stages of my life.
Since that time,
I've watched myself get sucked into the mad dog-eat-dog bustling world of Hong
Kong, watched Britain handover the island to China, met some great friends
there including one whom I only met on the last day he was in Hong Kong(!).
I've been quoted in the HK press, becoming a regular commentator on tax issues
there. When I left KPMG, the then marketing manager asked if I were willing
to host a press lunch to introduce the partners to the financial community, as
I had more coverage than most of the partners!
I've travelled
overland from St Petersburg on the Baltic Sea to Moscow, to Beijing and
finally down to Hong Kong along the Trans-Siberian railway. I've lived and
worked in the very different world of Japan... then to the "City of Peace" -
Geneva, Switzerland where I've worked with the United Nations, handling war
reparation claims against Iraq, and met Tim, Simon, Peter and Michelle. From
there to Singapore, where I've discovered new talents in myself. And then
from there, to Cincinnati...
Yet I look back
at all that, and really, what I remember foremost of those jobs and journeys
is not the places (although London in Spring, Kyoto is spring, the
Lauterbrunnen in Switzerland in Autumn, dawn on the Gobi Desert....all those
are memorable) but the people I've met, the friends I have made along the
way. It was Willa Cather who wrote in her book "Shadows on the Rock" that "Only
solitary men know the full joys of friendship. Others have their family; but
to a solitary and an exile, his
friends are everything." Now... in many ways I am an exile, a person
away from his 'home', and yes, I am a solitary person. SO that must be the
explanation for why I feel so much pleasure in getting back in touch with
everyone!
*************
It was over lunch with one of the partners of PwC that I
used to work with when he asked me, "What exactly are you doing?" After a
brief explanation, he asked, "But is that it?" Interesting. We started a
short segue into lifestyles, and wealth. I think he has had recent talks with
his sister who challenged him whether he had a great time when her family and
he had gone on holiday together. He said yes, but as he pointed out, there is
a difference: one could be happy in a 5 star resort, as well as being happy
in a rented chalet down in Majorca... It was a different sort of
happiness.
Well - we could start another whole long page of "what is
happiness" discussions. But we left it as something that both will let the
other know where the journey to happiness led to.
Interesting question again: this Friday, I was having a
chat with one of my colleagues on "the weekend". For him, getting home, and
getting a hug from his 3 year old daughter - that was heaven. That was what
the weekend was about. With me it's about kicking back, surfing the net,
reading my backlog of books and magazines, e-mails to keep in touch, lunch and
dinner with pals. Life is definitely very different if you are not a family
man!
***********
Speaking of which, I still remember the challenge my
colleague Linda threw at me just after we had both finished the 40 days of
"The Purpose Driven Life". She looked at me and said, "I had a son to raise,
and still have to finish putting him through college. What's after this?
More of the same? What's your excuse for doing what you're doing?" I
suppose in many ways it's true: there isn't any obligation as such. There is
sometimes a silly loyalty to certain people - get real, I will find it
difficult to be loyal to anything as amorphous as a company. (We are all nuts
and bolts of a company, and will be replaced once we outlive our usefulness.)
There's also fear of change and the unknown: let's get real - I've been very
well corrupted by filthy lucre. Thinking about giving it all up is a tad bit
difficult. Logic says I can and should, and in some ways I can, but ...
hmmm.. definitely something to work out!
*********
I ended my long trip back down memory lane with a trip back
to St John's College, with whom I am taking a distance learning theology
course. It was a great weekend workshop, which somehow put a few ideas in my
mind, and a few ideas out of it. What I do need to do, after speaking to the
Director of the programme, is to pull my socks up and just finish the last 2
assignments and get on with the blooming course!
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