The Twisted Bengaluran Tree - Chapter 1

Mrs Reiver always says that sitting on the swing on our balcony in India is the perfect location to write that novel. I have gone to the trouble of reading a number of Indian and Indian themed novels over the last couple of months – and whilst I am not a confused attractive twenty something woman ( I think we can all agree on that) on the brink of self discovery as India struggles for its identity in the turbulent 1920s and 30s ( is it just me or do these feature a lot??) – I will give it a go – at least as far as the first couple of paragraphs.

Sealed bids for the film rights must be received at my NY Publishers offices by 31^st Dec 2008.

The polished wooden swing groaned gently - a reciprocating plaintive grumbling against the chill Bangalore morning as if the joints of the house were stiff from unexpected use. Auto-rickshaws coughed and spluttered by on the on the dirty streets, pausing only to sneeze out impatient honks. Could sick building syndrome apply to a whole city, a whole country?? – If Bangalore was a vibrant healthy place it certainly wore its disguise of self abuse and neglect with assurance.

Such thoughts often drifted through the mind of Arnold Liddle reminding him of childhood days lying in the fields gazing at the sweeping clouds as they danced an elegant waltz around his beloved Cheviot hills. At such times his surprising two tone brown/grey eyes seemed to focus on a distant objective – ‘Like the Girl with Faraway Eyes’ growled Mick Jagger as his mental jukebox leapt into action. Arnold often wondered if his life was being played out as a cruel parody of a Country and Western song – Bangalore had turned out to be far more of a gone to seed Marie than the promised jiving Donny of the ‘Party Capitol of India’. Find the off-switch to the jukebox and think! screamed the part of him he tried to ignore. But real thinking inevitably led him back to Beirut, Rothbury and the madness that lay between these two places which was etched on his soul, and told in every line of his attractive lived-in face. Had he come to Bangalore to forget? As penance? To create a new life?

The splash of colour of a dancing butterfly, suddenly dragged him back to vibrant summer of 1970, tank tops and chopper bikes and the eternal optimism of being the defending world champions – ‘ Back Home they’ll be watching and waiting and cheering every move’ – well back home in Rothbury dark events emerged from the shadows of the rolling Northumbrian landscape which would change young Arnold forever and set in train his slow inexorable journey to India and his desperately uncertain fate.

Tensing with frustration he again he tried to remember what exactly happened on that fateful day in July 1970. He slowed his breathing, filtered out the white noise of the Indiranager suburbs and with aching slowness the pictures in his mind started to come into focus and the soundtrack became audible……..

A heart-breaking and painfully vivid portrait of shattered promise and ultimate triumph peppered with oh-so-true vignettes of Northumberland life (is what the Hexham Courant might say some-day - well infinite monkeys etc etc)

No excuses....

I have none, I am just very poor at Christmas Cards and still need my mother to remind me just how many cousins I have and their related offspring - us Reivers can certainly breed. I could blame the vagaries of the Indian postal system but cards are reaching us with predictability so I can't.So a seasonal wish in e-form.

May be going to the Beach tonight (local Goan themed bar/restaurant) but I would much rather be having fish and chips in the beach at Alnmouth however cold it is!

Seven Times Tables - मेरे लिए बहुत शुभकामना

Yes its that time again as the duster of history 'man cleans' the the stains of todays endeavors from the kitchen table of life I must face up to the fact that I will soon be 49. Editors note - man cleaning as defined by Mrs Reivers mother is when you spill something on the table and use your finger, shirt, tie whatever to make it appear clean - but she knows it isn't properly clean!. Such a mathematically round age forces one to reflect on how you reached this stage - after all the next round age will be when I'm 64!

a) 0x7 = 1959 - I enter the world on the banks of the Tyne, in what is now the Lion of Corbridge, with a questioning approach - both No 1 singles of the month (Adam Faith and Emile Ford and the Checkmates) being titled 'What do you want?' - those that have benefitted from my mentoring over time may recognise this motif.

b) 1x7 = 1966 - Basking in Fenham suffused in the afterglow of the World Cup Win (my only memory is a policeman not throwing the ball back to the disgust of Kenneth Wolstenholme) - I seem to remember being similarly disgusted when our sledge got nicked form the porch - If only there were justice of the form crooned about by Tom Jones in the Green Green Grass of Home - Mrs Reiver Senior - she of the leonine birth - loved that song.

c) 2x7 = 1973 - Best glazed over virtually no-one looked good in flares, long hair and platforms (especially rugby boy at grammar school) - Gary Glitter gave it a go (No 1 with I love You Love) but was merely an in retrospect unsavory appetiser to the most reliable of Christmas treats (excluding of course the Great Escape) - that being Wolverhamptons finest with Merry Christmas Everybody.

d) 3x7 = 1980 - 'What University student in the early 1980s did not have some experience of drugs' - qouth a government minister recently - well this one - us red brick types probably lacked the creative imagination - although one of my team mates could drink beer through his nose. Of course I didn't mix with those arty types who go on to government - stuck with the engineering/rugby fellows who go on to real jobs. John Lennon gets shot, goes to the top of the charts then gets displaced by St Winifreds School Choir within the week - I love the British!

e) 4x7 = 1987 - Starting out on corporate life, poorly paid, with two small children, mortgage etc - yes they gave mortgages to young people then! We had a Mini Metro with dodgy suspension - BMW came much to late - much to be said for the Ordnung Muss Sein approach of the germans. T'pau lived long and prospered at the top of the charts with 'China in Your Hand.'

f) 5x7 = 1994 - Suddenly life has accelerated, through Germany and 3rd and 4th junior Reivers to leave me contemplating a tropical Christmas in Singapore - I still remember the 10 m high inflatable snow-men on Orchard Road sagging in the languid humid atmosphere. Turkey on the balcony was certainly different to toasting bacon on the open fire in Park House just three steps back in the table. East 17 (who seemed to get into more trouble about their views on drugs than cabinet ministers) topped the charts with 'Stay Another Day' - we would have stayed for much longer but for my sympathetic boss CK!

g) 6x7 = 2001 - How did I end up as a Sales Manager with 30 people working for me??! Age 42 provided more questions than answers to everything. Fittingly S Club 7 topped the charts with 'Have You Ever' (had a job for which you were so badly suited), to be followed by Daniel Beddingfields 'Gotta Get Thru This' ( and find something useful to do with my life), and then ending the month with Robbie and Nicole with 'Somethin Stupid' (like taking an inappropriate job in Holland six months later) - maybe flares and platforms have some merit?

h) 7x7 = 2008 - I am living with a Zombie with positive mental attitude, a couple of bats and a lizard in a house designed using spiritual design principles and have been forsaken this afternoon in favour of 2000 armed soldiers and the England Cricket Team. Last week Take That were No 1 with 'Greatest Day' - mmm not so sure about how fitting that is- maybe just a bit late after all in 2007 the then Ms Lancashire Mill Family did turn up, say yes and become a Reiver by Grace of God.

What will 8x7 bring - that is any ones' guess - as Gary Barlow et al might have said - Extrapolate That and Party! I will just have to trust in my Karma Chameleon.

Global Despots and Other Visitors

I am passingly familiar with 'Tea with Mussolini' from popular culture, but never expected that I would be waiting in on a Friday morning for coffee with Stalin, at least someone sharing a name with someone (self) dubbed as the "Coryphaeus of Science," "Father of Nations," "Brilliant Genius of Humanity," "Great Architect of Communism," and "Gardener of Human Happiness," probably wont be short of conversation. The Stalin in question is our local insurance agent who is coming to assess us - whether he joined the insurance industry to sow and nurture the seeds of human joy will indeed be interesting to find out. Coryphaeus is not a name I have come across til now - they were mostly Robsons, Woods, Fairbairns, Liddels and the like by the north Tyne - mmm turns out it is not a name after all (I never knowingly bypass an opportunity to highlight my lack of classical education) but a word for the leader of the chorus. Hence the term (sometimes in an Anglicized form "coryphe") is used for the chief or leader of any company or movement. The coryphaeus spoke for all the rest, whenever the chorus took part in the action, in quality of a person of the drama, during the course of the acts. This blog is becoming positively Reithian in its values.

Of other guests: Gordon the Gecko chose to visit our bedroom this morning adding an additional haunting dimension to the already ethereal 'Helen Taylors Eyes' painting on the wall, plus disturbingly Buffy and Angel are MIA. We will host our first proper 'human' guests this evening - so I face a day of intense househusbandry, managing the servants and of course choosing which one of my little black numbers to wear. Perhaps I could go for the Fanny Cradock (I had to explain who she was to Mrs Reiver - young people nowadays pah) approach (Whatever Happened to Baby Jane make up, dubious food hygiene,a domineering manner, and lots of brandy and cream), but I am not sure I can get Mrs Reiver to wear the moncole. The guests will be both Indian and French so may need to go East meets West with a soupcon of gallic flair - so coq au vindaloo served wearing a beret it is. In my time honored and minimum working capital approach I will walk the food shops and listening carefully to hear what talks to me and then try and form it into if not a well known - at least edible gustatory phrase or saying - I don't want to end up getting too coryphic feedback from Mrs Reiver!
Food turned out ok last time we entertained a few people including a frenchman ;-) (, so remain confident - somebody has to be!
Given location and time differences it is also pertinent to take advantage of modern technology to socailly interact. I knew the heat must be getting to me when I caught myself throwing virtual snowballs on a popular social networking site this morning but was then surprised by the opportunity for virtual parenting and ended up tucking in my 19 year old student son at 3am UK time - aah bless .... or NUGs as I believe they say in Lufbro?

PS Reflecting on the title of this and my previous blog I would like to make it perfectly clear that I do not consider Valerie Singleton to have been a global despot - she might have bossed John Noakes round a bit but that was all.

Come on over Valerie!

Not Amy Winehouse, but the redoubtable Ms Singleton inspired the humid Bangalore afternoon today. After road testing out local Chinese takeaway for lunch (you see I am fully embracing cultural diversity) I happened by a fancy goods store - and some twinkling wares whispered sweet Biddy Baxters in my ears. Before you could peel off your sticky back plastic, the wardrobe was being raided ( I will be in trouble for that - Mrs Reiver regards coat-hangers as highly personal assets) and I was digging out the candles I got from my trip to Koppal (home of Lionel the Warthog). To fully complete the ambience I tuned into the light programme on the t'interweb, and as the Germans would say 'bastled' away, after an hour Col Hannibal Jones was loving it, and our kitchen was adorned with a new decoration.

Our house is designed around Vaastu principles (Vaastu Shastra deals with various aspects of designing and building living environments that are in harmony with the physical and metaphysical forces) and I trust that this small intrusion of a sixties childhood will not upset the balance too much - it certainly makes me feel more at home. Yes - I know using candles is a fire hazard, it is just to look at ! - but as there was no sign of any advent candles at our local church on Sunday, and the approach to the festive season was celebrated by the local 'Three Degrees' singing a modern Christmas song written by a US magician, combined by the minister telling us what Marys stress score would have been as assessed by psychiatrists today - somebody had to do something!

Walk like a Duck - Dance like a Charming Ant

Now that we have been in our house for a couple of weeks we are exploring and understanding the local environment a little better. The garden teems with many species of ants especially vibrant orange ones. Previously enjoyment from this direction was limited to the early eighties - 'I'm the deadly highwayman that you're to scared to mention, I spend my cash on looking flash and grabbing your attention' indicating some Reiverish behaviour, and it still doesn't take too much for me to get me crossing my forearms and wiggling what hips I have to Ant Music (my children should look away now). The most interesting and recent find however (courtesy of the Love Guide Bangalore) was ANTS which is a crafts/clothing/COFFEE SHOP just round the corner - which has great potential as an abandoned expat spouse bolt-hole for pondering lifes big questions - and of course doing that male rabbit in headlights Christmas shopping. The vegetable seller with his cart parked outside our gate and the local laundry facilities (coal powered ironing on the streets) may add colour but it seems I have slipped inexorably into the expat lifestyle - Chester le Street sheds a salty slushy tear and ponders how fickle are human affections (perhaps this blog is a covert attempt at writing the movie script of my life - discuss?)

Harsh reality intervened on Saturday when I went down to Bangalore Rugby club which curiously temporarily train in side a golf course. Attempting to coach the local kids, without the benefit of any Kannada or Hindi was a little challenging - getting the concept of soft hands and the pop up pass over through the medium of mime was fun, although I did feel at times more Norman Wisdom than Marcel Marceau. This reminds me that on a stag do a few years back we were in a comedy club in Nottingham and the compere was asking where the various groups were from - Chester came our reply - and taking in our group without a beat he said 'mmm more Emmerdale than Holyoaks' - Oi keep on topic - yes rugby. Emboldened by this mini-coaching experience, I decided to stay for the seniors training - I should have realised the error when most of the seniors looked younger than my kids, and the focus of the session was to be an up and coming sevens tournament. I last played sevens seriously (for University) in 1981, at the County sevens when our primary purpose was to ensure that we were able to field a team and so ensure the return of the clubs £50 entry deposit - having suitably run around but emphatically gone out in the preliminary round, we felt completely justified in then drinking the entire deposit in the Club bar - and £50 was a lot of money then.

After two hours on Saturday I once again had that difficult to describe feeling of being pleasantly beaten up, which translated on Sunday into an almost complete failure in leg function resulting in a pregnantesque waddling walk for at least the first half of the day. My recovery was of course aided by the inherent Harmony of our surroundings where it emerges we have papaya, guava, herbs and a lemon tree in the garden and life and love blossoms. The award of 'couple of the week' goes to Buffy and Angel (see picture) who have chosen to hang out just outside our front door - if they can manage 13 series between then then anything is possible!

Do Reivers have Nine Lives

So what does a lone male trailing corporate spouse actually do to justify their oxygen consumption on this crowded planet?

The otherwise excellent ‘Love Guide to Bangalore’ (no its not like that really!) suggests that one should spread the love – Mrs Reiver might have more than a little to say about that.

Lapsing into coprporate speak – ‘One explores relevant local opportunities to deploy and develop ones skills and experience to continue to grow as a person and make a significant contribution to the collective economic, social and environmental well-being at a micro and macro level’ Ok but what do you do…..

The answer to this is still very much work in progress, you know still running a few things up the flagpole to see who salutes them, and putting up a few strawmen which cascaded from the ongoing brainstorming situation – but enough of a life as a feeder for on-line bullshit bingo – what have a I tried so far:

1. The Efficient Househusband – mmm immediately disintermediated by our staff and the Indian ‘processes’
2. The Pampered Love Kitten – think I got this one wrong yesterday when I accidentally washed my hair with bitter orange massage oil and smelt like a left over Cointreau for the rest of the day
3. The Socially Aware Contributor – well I have made a start here with an NGO, which has provided some of the highlights to date including Lionel the Warthog (see previous blog)
4. Embrace Indian Culture – the RSC at Stratford has set the bar very high!
5. Take Time to Reflect and Smell the Flowers – big problem here – although clearly well-endowed in the proboscis department – slight sensitively problem: Typical dialogue:
1. Mrs Reiver – ‘What on earth is that strange overpowering smell’
2. ABRiB – ‘What smell’
6. Write that book you always mean to – I am afraid I am probably just a shallow sound/blog bite person, the collected works of which are probably only of any value to my therapist rather than my literary agent
7. Study – I think I am more likely to feel well-rounded by finding a good cake shop than filling in the MBA gap in my CV
8. Take up a hobby, art for example – well I am pretty visual but unfortunately within Mrs Reivers outrageously talented family I am unlikely to do better (see enclosed example from today) than raising myself to 4^th place if I can demonstrate superiority in technique compared to Emma – who is after all a very artistic cat.
9. Sit Back in the Sun and Chill – I go more crème brulee than mocha
10. Contemplate Your Inner Self – Well …. the mischievous 8 year old who liked to build go-carts from old prams and scraps of wood could prosper here – if only he could find a bit of continuous pavement for test runs.
    

I should probably add – reflecting on my earlier blogs – an additional challenge of not turning my entire life into 10 point lists…but the answer inevitably is quite simple – I may have to actually decide what I want to be when I grow up, and that is a lot scarier than Bangalore traffic and bomb threats.

Fauna, Flora and Lionel

Bangalore is known as the Garden City although the rapid progression and growth of commerce and industry is superimposing a much more industrial landscape on the manicured Raj designs of the past. Life teems about you and you get the feeling that it would not take long at all for Nature to re-assert control and retake the city.

I have never really been one for pets but we do now seem to have a small colony of friendly lizards (geckos) who queue up to share the shower with Mrs Reiver in the morning, but are curiously absent when I present myself to wash away the sweat of a jogette - perhaps they are trying to tell me something? Most other local animals seem largely indifferent: the dogs have mastered lazy dozing to full undergraduate levels, and the cows wander the streets with a 'we were here first' nonchalance and an unerring capacity for knowing where the tastiest morsels of discarded food will be (mmm also undergraduate like).

During my 'out station' visit last weekend the fauna was even more profuse with bullock carts being close to a prime source of business transport, a cow tethered to most village houses and a proliferation of pigs in the streets of Koppal. Our worlds nearly collided several times - partly due to the death race 2000 (the original 70s one with David Carradine?) attitude of our taxi driver but also on parking on the main street for some light shopping - as I opened the car door a passing pig very nearly joined me in the back seat. The lyrics 'We're having fun sitting in the back seat a-kissing and a-huggin with Porky' don't really ring true so I will perhaps not take up bacon-crawling as a hobby.
The pigs however do seem really at home and a natural part of the local environment. Koppal has been very short of rain, as a result the corn and sunflower crops looked very subdued. Two days before we arrived this all changed, the heavens opened, and the road to the office we were using was partially washed away - this mean we had to walk to and fro on the Sunday. This was a blessing in disguise as in doing so I encountered a truly memorable sight walking up to the office - an enormous warthog half submerged in a stagnant pool of mud with the most self satisfied smile on his face I have seen since Robert Kilroy Silk disappeared from daytime television. In my head there was disco remix of Lionel Richie crooning that he was 'Easy Like Sunday Morning' featuring samples from Flanders and Swann..... ' And there let me wallow in glorious mud..' - Ed Stewarts Junior Choice clearly has long term stickability.

So life goes on back in Bangalore, with three wheel son my wagon i will just keep rolling along, maintain my High Hopes and start to worry only if I start seeing little mice with clogs on - where? - there on the stairs - beside the ghosts of Pinky and Perky.

Geordie & the Spiders from Ponteland

(image Courtesy of Sampark - www.sampark.org)

India, is as described by many, a land of extreme contrasts - which is fully exemplified by just stepping outside our new harmonious front door - navigating past the large bullock grazing on rubbish during my improvised running loop yesterday provided an additional athletic challenge.

As I write the terrorist situation in Mumbai is still not resolved and there is a general feeling of apprehension - the normally half asleep security guards actually paying attention for a change. I will get my first taste of the Urban/Rural contrasts this weekend when on go up-country overnight on the 'Hampi Express' to visit some of the work that the NGO I have been helping is doing in the Koppal region. They also work with urban poor in Bangalore which is how I ended up visiting a mobile school on a building site earlier this week. The school was a breeze-block hut (some 20 sq mtrs) with some 40 kids - and I thought Ponteland CP was crowded in the late 60s. This was a true mixed age and ability class with children (of the migrant construction workers) ranging from 9 months to 12 years - oh and in at least 3 languages - quite a challenge for a first time teacher!

Having seen some of the kids work and their performances we asked if they wanted to ask us (self and other visitor) any questions - very sensibly a six year old boy asked if we did any teaching (they were here to learn after all!) and/or performances. I was holding my off key rendition of 'Keep your feet still Geordie hinny' in reserve when we both decided that we could just about remember 'Incy Wincy Spider' - though there was some bilateral negotiation needed to finally decide on the 'authorised' lyrics and the correct hand actions. This was much better received than any of my singing efforts in the past, with full audience participation - I am still available for Panto btw.

India, especially Bangalore, can seem a selfish place, but little outcrops of simple altrusim within the sea of surging survival and captalism go a long way. I had better stop before I start sounding like a 'Thought for the Day' out-take - and get back to the important stuff - the men are coming to install the washing machine - domestic life in India may be about to start for real, especially if the maid can't work out how to use it properly.

Wir Feiern Gern - Bangalore

It could be that I am showing my age, but I found myself this weekend wondering whether I would prefer to be at a Christmas bazaar, in chilly church hall in Manchester rather than eating under the stars at a muti-media event at a country resort in the tropics. The multi-media event was Mrs Reivers staff party/event - impressively staged with catwalk, laser show, models, dancers, rock band, and various video presentations - and A VERY LOUD Sound system. The entertainment at my previous place of work related to such events was largely around the protracted and subtle office trench warfare that would take place over several months over deciding the location of the Christmas do. The Indian event did highlight to me that I probably need to take a crash course on the history of Bollywood to further embed myself in the local cultural context and to ensure that I can maintain my dancing at the right level of 'embarassing dad' cringe-worthiness, but I was somewhat unsure where the magician with the assistant who danced near naked with hula hoops (the non-edible sort, it wasn't that kinky!) fitted into the local tradition - maybe just a bad attack of the David Blaines (painful, irritating and difficult to forget) by the organisers. It is always good to meet a range of new people when you arrive anywhere, unfortunately due to the decibel level I am now known at Steve to several people - maybe I should work on an alter ego. Steve Reiver - he's a gentle sort of guy, in touch with his feminine side, great with kids and animals, cordon bleu cook (trained in Paris) and dresses so well - mmm may need to keep working on that one a bit. Ultimately in any new place I feel there is very little value in trying to go too native - I quickly learnt that no-one can be more German than the Germans. I am slowly, very slowly experimenting with local dress, but the mirror keep sort of saying back 'you look like a complete twassock' and 'that Sari is just not your colour darling' - the curly toed slippers however continue to call so temptingly - tie me to the mast quickly my brave lads. I suspect I will never even remotely understand the Indians and likewise they me (come to think of it it is not just the Indians who don't understand me?) - it is literally a billion to one shot. I guess I will just settle down to anticipating a life full- with hopeful happy mistunderstandings - there should be a word for that - the Germans would have one - misverstandnishoffnungsfreude perhaps. I could start by working on the oberlippenbard to fit in better, but my kids told me I looked kinda pervy/Freddie Mercury in his AIDs phase when I tried this before - so perhaps not.

Better just stick to being a confused Border Reiver in Bangalore - still no sheep in sight!? Oh and the Christmas bazaar in South Manchester was I hear filled with drama and intrigue beyond the imagination of any event organiser with a surfeit of lasers - but of that perhaps another time - the unpacking in the new house awaits and I must see how many other essential retained life treasures Mrs Reiver had transported half way across the world 'just in case'.

The Grumpy Old Mans Guide to India

Mrs Reiver suggested the other day that it was just possible that the frustrations of living in India were starting to manifest themselves through some Grumpy Old Man behavior on my part. Whilst I explained that she must be mistaken as it is a truth universally acknowledged that my personality represents a cool peaceful pond of serenity, shaded by the trees of calmness and wafted by the breezes of inner tranquility - not all of my ancestors were quite so relaxed. The original Border Reivers certainly had a strong 'Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough' streak and roamed the middle marches yielding to no-one; 'Scottish if forced, English at will and a Reiver by grace of blood' - well put that man. These genes seem to have partially skipped my generation - those who were there will remember the look of genuine surprise on my face when I was penalised for what the 'mericans would call 'Unnecessary Roughness' a couple of years ago playing rugby. The force flows strong however in my children as anyone who has seen my daughter play netball can testify. So, - whilst I clearly sail through our life here in an untroubled fashion - I do believe that others can occasionally find India a frustrating place. On such occasions this concern/anger/frustration can be expressed in various forms - a few which percolated through my head from popular culture are listed below = Yes It's Competition Time:

1. Don't make me angry - you won't like me when I'm angry
2. I'm tellin you Jim, she canna take any more
3. I warned you but now I'm going to have to give you a really good thrashing
4. You say you want the truth - You can't handle the truth
5. For my daughter Leonora, without whose help, this book would have been finished in half the time
6. I don't believe it!
7. You cannot be serious man
8. I'm going to rip off your head and spit down the hole
9. Touch my drawing again and I will break your fingers
10. What we have here is a failure to communicate

Clue: at least one of them is Mrs Reiver
Answers - Sources of all 10 please by posting comment
Prize - A bottle of India's finest wine delivered in time for Christmas ( I sound just like the Times magazine)

The message must be don't bottle it up, and so If I ever get frustrated by India I will of course try and express myself as I were the unlikely lovechild of Noel Coward and Oscar Wilde.

Must dash I am needed.

'Yes Yes coming Cybil my little Pirahna'

Dolly Parton ..and the Swords of a Thousand Men

Memories, may be beautiful and yet, what’s too painful to remember we simply choose to forget – so sang Ms Streisand in 1981 reflecting languidly on ‘the Way we Were’. Reviewing this blog so far you might conclude that I am a bit of a foot fetishist with a specialism in pavements who is stuck on the lyric world of 70s and early 80s pop – and you may well be right. I seem to remember, if not always accurately (as forceably reminded by my sister who is from the anorak side of the family) song lyrics and trivia. Writing this just after the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month prompts one not to forget – so what has been unforgettable so far in my 6 weeks (yes six count them!) in Bangalore – and in my chosen vernacular how would I represent this as a Bangalore top 10 song countdown – for all pop-pickers out there.

Steady at No 10 – not glamorous Gordon – but Chris Rea (of Reas Ice Cream Parlour – Newcastle Haymarket) – ‘The Road to Hell’ (Bangalore Traffic Mix)

Not so steady at No 9 my stomach – Whitesnake – ‘Here I go again on my own’ ( enuf said)

Even less stable at No 8 Bangalore building standards - Unit 4+2 (as featured in the Reiver Wedding of the Year 2007) with ‘Concrete and Clay’ (..begins to crumble)

Reliably at No 7 – Squeeze with ‘Block Coffee in Bed’ (you really can get decent coffee anywhere here!)

Swaggering in at No6 – Tenpole Tudor with ‘Swords of a Thousand Men’ (this is typical of the numbers required to do or fix anything around your house/office)

Buzzing along at No 5 – Meri Wilson with ‘Telephone Man’ (everyone everywhere seems to have a mobile and uses them anywhere- with additional points for using one handed whilst riding a motorbike without a helmet – we even now have 3 mobiles, 3 laptops, one blackberry (oeer get her!), and two landlines)

Steady at No 4 – for the nice little man who cooks Mrs Reiver her comfort mushroom omlette every morning to consistently high standards – Deep Blue Something with ‘Breakfast at Tiffanys ‘(she doesn’t need diamonds at breakfast as she has enough sparkle with me !)

A new entry at No3 – for the new lepidopterally endowed house and garden which might just turn into a home – Dolly Parton with ‘Love is Like a Butterfly’

Just missing out on the top spot at No 2 – Mr Zimmerman with a ‘A Hard Rains Gonna Fall’ – Mrs Reiver had soooo.. much fun sorting out her flooded laboratory

But, as Christopher Lambert said there can be only one, and at No1 (with head still connected) it has to be the Boss with ‘Born to Run’ ( the version junior Reiver 2 and I heard at Old Trafford in May please) – the look on peoples faces as I run around the parks and streets here in the daytime could hardly be more shocked than if I had just emerged from John Hurts stomach!

Let's Hear it for the Girls

Finding coping mechanisms in a new and unfamiliar environment is always an interesting process. I remember fondly an old cassette tape of ‘I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue’ which was guaranteed to raise my mood on the way home however stressful the working day. I was reminded of the need for good transitions a few days ago when Mrs Reiver collapsed through the door declaring herself to be a Zombie, but at least a Zombie with positive mental attitude. There is probably a lurid 1950s film titled ‘I was a Zombie Love Slave’, but I don’t recall signing up for a role in the Bangalore street theatre version.

I decided that the only response to such a situation was to start spending more time out and about and compensate by picking op women. The ‘women’ in question were nutritious energy bars with additional calcium on sale at our local supermarket. These were judiciously deployed to maintain Mrs Reivers blood sugar on the car ride home.

She needs to stay particularly alert on the trip home as they have chosen to turn the road outside our current accommodation into an assault course with mounds of sand, gravel and rubble – the chaos of this being counterpointed by the quiet diligence of the construction work force (mostly women) who balance loads of cement on their head with apparently effortless grace. How these women cope with their unfamiliar environment (as most are from outside the local state of Karnataka) is a whole different level of challenge which even the comfort afforded by melifluous tones of the late great Humphrey Lyttleton would be insufficient to cover. Happily many NGOs are doing good work to address the issue (www.sampark.org) , at a somewhat more practical level than developing an Indian version of Mornington Crescent.

I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing.

Some may remember the 1970s anthem based on the Coke advert (originally Id like to buy the world a coke), where fresh faced youngsters gather on a hilltop in multi-racial togetherness. This was a hit in 1973?? For the New Seekers (pub quiz boy is never far from the surface) – and includes the line (at least as I remember it) of ‘I’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony, ...grow apple trees and honey bees and snow white turtle doves…’ ……. Short pause as the sick bucket is located…….

Putting aside the merits of ad based, optimistic, post Vietnam, sugarpop lyrics it does seem that there is a significant chance that we will indeed after seeking live in Harmony – this being the name of the house we are hoping to secure for the remainder of our tour of duty in Bangalore. I am told that until recently the particular neighbourhood was habituated only by movie starts and test cricketers – so we will come a something of a shock to the system – Chester –le – Street has many virtues but no-one would ever call it glamorous. The idealistic feel of the house is somewhat coloured by the ongoing negotiations around pest control, water pumps and back up generators to cover the frequent black outs – but then these were also a feature of the early 70s so perhaps it is really quite appropriate.

If it all comes off it will be a small wrench (8mm hex head) to move on from our south Bangalore temporary accommodation and its environs. Abandoned last night by Mrs Reiver for a business ‘Drinks and Nibbles’ do which surely hovered in the well named ‘corridor of uncertainty’ between A Proper Drink and A Proper Feed – I set out for a local hostelry ‘Legends of Rock’. I experienced a small but precious period of calm for about 5 minutes as the beer and bio-rythyms magically aligned.

• There was Calamari with chilli sauce,
• Billy Joel singing about ‘the microphone smells like a beer’
• VVS Laxman and Ghandir pasting the Australian bowling attack all over the park on the TV
• Gently flashing lights (partially courtesy of ‘power shedding’)
• A warm evening breeze wafting over the roof terrace and mixing with the raucous sounds of the street below
• And the place was effectively untroubled by any other patrons

Such micro-glimpses of a relaxed – I don’t do crowds - future here have given me some hope and and slightly hestitant stomach this morning.

The Big Bang - Finally

You will have of course noticed the huge build up to ' big bang' day last month followed by he subsequent coolant leakage problems in the Hadron Collider which have now shut it down for several months. India is experiencing no such problems - it is Diwali - the festival celebrating the triumph of light over darkness - typified by the letting off of random fireworks over a four day holiday. There were big bangs for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and as shown in the picture late evening drinks on the balcony - this may of course be the holiday festival equivalent of horn honking as they seem to go for loudness rather than artistic impression in the fireworks stakes. However in a strange echo of my Newcastle youth, there are multiple temporary store encouraging us to 'light up the sky with Standard Fireworks'

We spent the Indian equivalent of Christmas eve viewing a house, which in a strange version of 'A Wonderful Life' may prove to be our redemption. In contrast to the 'look at how flash and impressive I am' flats we have seen so far this was a house actually designed for living in - with a sofa swing on the bedroom balcony, and room for a hammock in the garden. It may have been an allegorical illusion but we are hoping that it will become tangible in the very hear future. We may be fooling ourselves - and indeed Mrs Reiver did declare the baked mushrooms last night to be 'magic' so who knows - but if houses could talk this one was saying - ' Howway son - sit down for a pint and bit of a chat - bonny lad'

Dozing Dogs and Englishmen......

‘Four walls do not a prison make nor iron bars a cage’ – somebody famous said (I know I am very poorly educated on literature but Mrs Reivers side of the family more than make up for this) – a building site outside your condo, gaping holes in the road, slippery mud smeared pavements, unpredictable violent showers, and stray camels do ensure something that can feel, if not like imprisonment, at least comfortable house-arrest. As I write it sounds as if the other inmates/business guests are being subjected to hard labour with the sound of breaking stones reverberating through the room – just like that bit in the library in the 3^rd Indiana Jones film - if you know what I mean.

In true British tradition there was only one course of action – form an escape committee. Since the nearest sane person was Mrs Reiver 10km away at her laboratory communing with her rabid monkeys – I had to make do with some personal reflection to form the plan. Tempting as it would be to find a forger, put bags of dirt down my trousers and check whether the fixer at Mr Reivers work resembled James Garner, I decided that the Great Escape tribute band would have to wait a while and more direct action was called for. I was going to go running some-where, anywhere!. Given what I have described about Bangalore streets this may seem a high risk course of action, but trust me when you are pounding away on the treadmill in the gym and one of the regular power cuts occurs it can be a hamstring tweaking and dis-orientating experience.

I had to make a critical decision given it was around midday – protect from the heat or protect from the bugs – I chose the latter so with my running legs, knee bandage, long sleeved top with thumb holes, and dragon sweatband I resembled a wannabe but somewhat shambling superhero candidate, more Charityshopfortysomething than Spiderman. Getting the driver to take me the 5km to Cubbon Park laid out during the Raj took only an hour – the traffic is getting better!

The park was populated by a mix of courting couples, sleeping workmen, working workmen, strolling office workers, drunks, religious devotees and dozing dogs basking in the sun. The reactions of all were consistent and unanimous – the circus has come to town – the mixture of surprise, interest and slight distain, most memorably exhibited by the sleeping dog on the roundabout where I did my ‘warm down’.made me smile properly for the first time in a couple of days. With the sweat dripping off me in a continuous stream and Ballroom Blitz by the Sweet blaring on the MP3 player the world seemed a lightly better place – my driver who had to contend with a very damp and somewhat smelly passenger on the way home did not seem quite so convinced!

It ain't half hot MUM

Acclimatisation is a strange thing – in the North East one way it manifests is thorough recognising that whenever you go swimming at Whitley Bay the sea will be almost literally freezing and cause that sharp intake of breath when gentlemen reach a certain level of immersion – especially with the traditional first dip over the Easter Weekend. The ‘temperate’ physical climate in Bangalore is one of the reasons it grew originally so that the British soldiers could be more comfortable but it tends to get lost in the teeming human eco-system. Cars, trucks, buses, bicycles, pedestrians, handcarts, dogs, cows, goats, rubbish, discarded food, random building materials, all coexist on a typical road or pavement, - though the distinction between the two here is pretty nominal at best. I am hoping that the distinction will at least be observed for a while next Sunday morning as I am braving a local 5k run @ 7am (yes 7 am!!) – those who are about to get very very sweaty salute you.

I hope the course is well marked out as it appears that they don’t do maps here – navigation to anywhere unknown is done more on the AAPARD ( ask a passing Auto-Rickshaw Driver), an address or map with the location marked on it generally just results in a blank look from your driver – travelling hopefully is definitely the watchword. After such a journey on Sunday to try and find Fabindia’s flagship store in Koramangala - which turned out to be nett journey of ca 1 mile which took the best part of an hour – we were pleasantly surprised to find the it was indeed both Fab and Indian. Mrs Reivers shopping genes kicked in (purely therapeutic of course) and the experience was all the more enjoyable as we encountered the fastest folder in the East who was working the till and packed the clothes with speed and deftness that would shame a card sharp.

India will continue to be full of surprises I am sure not all pleasant – but in full cross cultural mode we are now looking forward to Oktoberfest here which will be celebrated in November – nah unglaublich aber wahr – as we say here - MfG - Dave

15 Days and 14 Nights

I decided that it would not be particularly helpful to spend too long contemplating the view from my bedroom window (encl), so instead I thought: So you have now been in Bangalore for a typical Holiday period - what would you recommend to the potential visitor as the must dos???

Must Dos - Border Reiver Style

1. Coffee at the Leela Palace - this '7 star' hotel is so over the top it must be seen, but consistent with Indian Maintenance standards though recently built is starting to show some signs of wear and tear - go for the Barista coffee in the grounds

2. Dinner at i-t-Alia in the Park Hotel - it is a haven of simplicity in an overelaborated and not-thought-through city, and the food is fantastic - just make sure that you don't have to sit close beside business diners talking loudly and in an ill-informed manner about their plans and the world economy?

3. Try the 'curry' cocktails at the i-bar (no I am not on a retainer from the Park Hotel) they just make you want to eat/cook, the Indian wines can be a little more shall we say variable

4. Look where you are walking: the pavement may contain unexpected gaps, cow-pats, sleeping itinerants, discarded guava and occasionally even pavement

5. Bring a sound recorder and ear plugs - it is never quiet but you can have lots of fun when you get home trying to identify the strange half organic - half industrial noises which pervade the nights here

6. Embrace the chaos of the traffic - don't try to fight it - the concept of a pedestrian crossing is just another moving target - perhaps there is a niche product for personal horns for pedestrians here so that they can fully join in the game of 'Honk-opoloy' - do not pass anything without honking

7. Do bring several good books and an i-pod for the time you will spend in traffic jams

8. Do bring a very good pen as you will need to sign innumerable forms which you will probably never see again - form signing here is a bit like a refined local art form as a ritualised dance. It is a bit like watching a play in a foreign language - you can get the sense of it and appreciate some of the better flourishes, but probably never pick up the finer nuances of the bureaucratic performances

9. Take a pre-visit course on the origins and structure of marble and granite - so that you can while away the quieter moments appreciating your surroundings

10. Enjoy the 'department stores' - they are like Arkwrights emporium on speed and with extra security - the plastic kitchen goods are a delight - I treasure my lemon 'squasher'

Clearly sheep-stealing would have been on the list in Border Reiver tradition but have only seen cows and goats wandering the streets so far ......

Hairy Ginger and the Multiverse

Grocery shopping Bangalore style has a few tweaks compared to Chester-le-Street, but some similarities – maybe? We have now moved from our city centre hotel out into a serviced apartment (with a kitchen HUZZAH!) in the suburbs of Bangalore. The area (we are assured) is a sought after and hip place with lots going on – we will see. Following the transfer from the hotel and a brief but violent thunder storm I set forth seeking provisions for our first home made meal in India (if you don’t count Pringles and Cheese bought from the Gourmet shop by the cricket ground).

The following list covers encounters on the trip – try and spot which are similar to Chester – le – Street.

1. There was a cow grazing in the road as I walked out of the condos
2. Cars were axle deep in the puddles
3. There was a strong smell of sulphur as I crossed over the bridge over the ‘river’
4. I passed two gentlemen urinating in the street
5. I passed (but perhaps should have stopped at) a roadside stall frying crisps from all sorts of veg and fruit
6. I had to walk through an airport style metal detector to get into the supermarket
7. They tried to take my shopping bags off me as I went in so that I couldn’t use them for shopping
8. David Beckham beamed down on me as I walked back
9. The ginger was hairy and the lemons like golf balls
   

Perhaps I have landed in a world which is indeed one of the Chester le Streets but just in an alternate universe or just how it seems after a bad pie on a Friday night.

The consolation is that the food is very cheap here, but my sources tell me that turnips were reduced to only 3p at Tescos in Chester-le-Street last Friday, so not sure…

A Funny Game of Marbles

House/flat hunting in Bangalore is a real team task – you need a company minder plus a realtor, plus driver plus two or three people at each house/flat just to hang around as you look around – clearly a spectator sport second only to Cricket. When you get there basically all there is to see is lots of marble – and a few exposed electrical cables they are big on marble floors! But not marble bathrooms. Some of the places may be really quite nice when finished – but I am not sure that they have the same conception of finished as I do. Perhaps the problem needs to be reframed and these huge soulless marbled floored spaces could ( with a compressor and a few hours with a drill) be turned into a giant ‘air hockey’ table where you could use household objects as pucks and create your own domestic 2D Brownian motion effect. Maybe I spent too long in the sun yesterday or it the concept could well end up on the Turner prize shortlist next year probably as installation art as a continuous loop film.

A retention of some appreciation of the absurd is probably key to staying sane in Banglaore plus odd touches and glimpses just link you instantly to home. Example: the arts centre with potential that we visited a few days ago was liberally equipped with proggy mats, which also abounded in the houses of my extended family across rural Northumberland. For those unfamiliar with Northumberland dialect I suggest adding ‘Larn Yorsel Geordie’ to your reading list – example usage ‘Divnt drop your dottle on the proggy mat hinny’. Hindi lessons may beckon quite soon but as you can see I am already multi-lingual so that helps.

The other thing that helps is really good food – I have often said that white chocolate should be available on the NHS – but I may need to see if a regular visit to i-italia at the Park Hotel can be added to our local prescriptions.

Off for brekkie with ‘wor lass’, D

Festival Fenders!

Bank holidays in the UK are typically characterised by repeats on TV, jammed out of town shopping centres and unseasonal rain - and these are the good ones. In India in contrast the flowers come out garlanding doors, chalked on pavements, and draped over the fronts of Auto-rickshaws, Cars, and Buses. This really does lend a festive air to the streets, however this doesn't extend to the driving style which is even more distracted and chaotic - if that is possible.

5 star hotels are all fine and good, but when Mrs Reiver flops through the door after a long day sometimes she needs emergency treatment - for her this means ideally Cheese and fast.... the hotel restaurant which refused to serve us an early dinner last night certainly impaired its future trade. In order to mitigate future risk I trawled the streets today and sourced emergency Pringles and cheese, which now rests happily in the mini-bar: as small but reassuring symbol of home - the cheese not the mini-bar! It is unlikely that even the most boutique of hotels would recreate the randomised under the stairs wine cellar from home.

After a week in the country it all feels strangely familiar, with the extreme contrasts and noisy backdrop inherent in every day becoming the norm. The house-hunting starts in anger over the next couple of days - for me its not location, location, location but kitchen, kitchen, kitchen - whilst creating a Indo-Geordie cookbook might have a huge natural readership - I plan to have fun experimenting - roll on the Tandoori stottie!

Cricket is a Serious Business

It is well known that they take cricket seriously in India, and Bangalore is the focus of attention as the 1^st Test vs Australia starts here this Thursday. There is additional interest as Sachin Tendulkar is within a reasonable knocks worth of Brian Lara’s world record for Test Runs, and Tendulkar loves playing against the Aussies. Even in the rather effete pastry shop in the hotel the Australian warm up game was on TV continuously.

The press and media attention is almost completely in contrast to the local advertising – passing by the ground you would never guess there is a Test on this week – compared to Chester le Street where after a ODI earlier this year the streets were strewn with distressed superheroes (in costume) bemoaning that they were not blessed with KPs talent with the bat. His talent with his mouth is less assured.

I am sure it will be very vibrant on the day – I still remember the noise (and the Tendulkar century) from a ODI vs Sri Lanka on the Padang in Singapore more than 10 years ago. I have also experienced intense Aussie national interest in cricket – having been in Australia working as a student during all of the 1981 ‘Botham’ Ashes series but I have to say the hoarding I saw coming out of a very comforting bookstore yesterday stopped me short. Just glancing at I though it must be something promoting road (or industrial) safety – but No just cricket.

If the cricket is as tasty as the build up I might just pop down the road and watch – strangely whilst moving halfway round the world I am still living less than a mile from a Test ground ??

Happy Feet ... but no Tardis!

I dont pay much attention to my feet, other than some TLC after my first Karate session earlier this year the occasional bout of toenail management is about as far as it goes - perhaps I have been missing out on something? Mrs Reiver returned from the spa last night after 75mins of feet pampering of a variety and ingenuity that was well beyond me and declared her feet to be officially 'Happy', and I was formally required to inspect their happiness - so Indians can do feet.

They can also do technology here: Bangalore is indeed the 'Silicon Valley' of India- I was recently at a conference in Gateshead (I do get to some exotic places) where they showed a video of a 'teleporting' demonstration by a large IT company where the CEO in the US was teleported into a conference in Bangalore - impressive! However we need this technology applied to the really important things in life - when you arrive with your 130kg of luggage to move to a different country clothes space can be a bit tight especially when your hotel room has one small wardrobe and no drawers. Clearly the Tardis wardrobe is an opportunity whose time has not yet come - but surely soon, surely soon!

Mrs Reivers happiness was however almost overflowing when we made our first visit to a local bookstore which had such a selection of stationary that she was almost mesmerised - it looks like here stationary habit as well as her spa habit may assert itself here.

Saturday Nights alright for Audrey

Saturday started slow as the whole transit to India week caught up with us both. Surfacing just after midday we set of with driver to get some photos and a mobile phone - 4 hours later we had both after spending 3hrs30mins in traffic and suffering a power cut in the first photo shop, and an abortive attempt to find the Goethe Institute. The latter was not driven by high cultural sensibilities but by the fact that it allegedly has a German Kaffee & Kuchen shop on its roof. This meant no food and the only thing in the world more dangerous than a hungry Border Reiver is a a hungry Border Reiver's wife. Arriving back at the hotel the waiter risked bodily injury suggesting to Mrs Reiver that she could not eat by the pool, and then was unwittingly close to serious damage by suggesting that the food we ordered would too much for us to eat - it didn't even touch the sides!. Somewhat restored we got ready for our first big Saturday night out in Bangalore the pub capital of India - which now appeared to be very foggy - this was only the daily fumigation apparently.
Mrs Reiver sensibly retired to the spa for some pampering - us Northumbrian boys don't do that sort of thing but there was a 'Warrior Massage' on the menu so maybe... Instead I prepared the evenings entertainment - a DVD from the hotels collection - tempted as I was by 'The Stepford Wines' in the end I settled for Audrey & Rex in My Fair Lady - which was deliciously delivered to the room on a mini movie tray (see photo) - party on Bangalore - woo hoo