Ask not for whom the bell tolls

admin — Sat, 02 Jan 2021 15:58:00 +0000

“If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less.” One of the most famous and internationally venerated British poets, John Donne, centuries ago expressed this simple truth of our unity with “the continent, part of the main”. Sadly many of his countrymen either never appreciated it or have recently forgotten how much we are all related and how immensely we benefit from this relationship. Because of them, the UK has left Europe and “Europe is the less” now. Europe – including myself, my husband and all those Brits identifying as Europeans – will be mourning Britain, an island being “washed away by the sea”…Whereas on a personal level we, probably, would not experience much change – after all, even the complicated visa process and other multiple restrictions did not prevent me, a Soviet-born woman, from studying abroad, traveling round the planet, working in multinational companies, bringing up my children as citizens of the world. Where there is a will there’s a way. And yet I feel very sad and the feeling is very similar to the sadness I felt 20 odd years ago when I first came to the UK as a student. At that time I was offered a part-time job that other teachers of the 6th form local college in a North East English town were quite reluctant to do. Would I like to teach a module in a business and administration vocational course called “Living and Working in Europe”? I’d loved to do it! Absolutely delighted for lots of reasons! Later I was really astonished to discover that my sincere enthusiasm and joy of explaining what wonderful opportunities they all had in the whole of Europe as of right would face a cold wall of indifference from my students. Guys, you are just a couple of years younger than me. Wouldn’t you dream of having the whole of Europe as your home? Working, living and learning, enjoying the mix of incredible cultures, languages, cuisines, approaches, attitudes? Coming there not as a guest having to ask permission from the host for every action but as an equal in rights owner of the place? They started at me: why would we want to do that? What’s wrong with our village?The gap between our understanding of the world, our hopes and expectations was too big, I guess. Some years later I was working in Moscow for a multinational company. Most of my college students probably stayed in the North East and happily voted for Brexit several decades later. I did not do a good job of explaining to them why they really needed Europe and how they all benefited. Neither myself nor other teachers managed to explain that even if they did not ever move anywhere outside their beautiful home village, they would still benefit from the union with Europe. Europe moved to them, bringing diversity, different cultures and views, challenging old ways – pushing, tempting, arguing, competing. Everyone who moved to a different country at least once – not as a tourist but to live – knows that it may be exciting but at the same time difficult, confusing and even scary. It is the wrong strategy to deny the fears and difficulties of adaptation to new ways of living. They do exist. They are real. However, it is a great mistake to focus on them and not to notice the joys and benefits. And we made this mistake. No one helped those students to appreciate and consciously enjoy the positive change brought to everyone by a more united Europe. So they did not notice it and, probably, will not miss it.Our universes remain separate – those who want to be European and those who identify exclusively as Brits may live on the same small island but still be worlds apart. We had a chance to get closer and be united at least to some extent, We did not use it. It is not the European Union that we lost, but a good chance for our own united kingdom.Therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls – it tolls for thee…

Blog written by Tanya Khandurova

The magic box

admin — Mon, 28 Dec 2020 17:57:30 +0000

“Here is a box, a musical box. Wound up and ready to play. But this box can hide a secret inside. Can you guess what it is in it today?” The lid, a hexagon comprised of six triangles in alternating colours, then slid back and up came the main character that was the star of today’s tale. If it was Windy Miller, you knew it was going to be a good episode. ‘Camberwick Green’ was a staple of my childhood along with Pogle’s Wood, The Woodentops, Andy Pandy and Pugh, Pugh, Barney, McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble, Grubb (Trumpton). (There isn’t an English man or woman born in 1964 who wouldn’t be able to recite the remaining names if given ‘Pugh, Pugh…’.)

Trumpton fire brigade

The later arrivals in my childhood television viewing were Mr. Ben the fancy dressing adventurer, Parsley the Lion and his fellow herbs (who gave all my children the password Herbidaceous for entry into any walled garden but particularly the one in the Bishop of Fulham’s Palace) and the Oliver Postgate masterpieces: Ivor the engine, Noggin the Nogg and the Clangers. His voice was the sound of my Sunday evenings and after school treats at five minutes to six when children’s programmes led into the serious grown up business of the 6 o’clock news on the BBC.

Jones the Steam and Dai the Station in Postgate’s miniature gem Ivor the engine

All these programmes were brilliant. They did not talk down to children (well, Andy Pandy did, but it was the oldest of the lot and still stuck in the 1950s) and they used adult vocabulary. Oliver Postgate in particular stressed the fundamental importance of using adult words to pique the curiosity of his viewers – a philosophy which worked. As I watch his episodes now with my little girl Emily I feel the delight in language he started when I hear his voice narrate The Clangers with words no contemporary children’s tv programme would dare to use.

Soviet Snow Queen

And now I have been introduced to an entire world of parallel programmes that my wife grew up with during her childhood in the Soviet Union. Our daughter is now being reared on a combined bilingual diet of 1950-1970s children’s programming which, to us at least, exemplify the simplicity that a childhood should comprise. We do not hold with the knowing wink and a nod to adult audiences and ahead of their years American slickness and sexuality of modern Disney films. Nor do we like the artless computer generated animation and auto produced narrative soundtracks of cheap cartoons that seem to have flooded YouTube to date. We like the crafted skill, intelligent storyline and proper production values of the classics, most of which are available with English subtitles. Cheburashka , Hedgehog in the Mist, the 1950s Soviet version of the Snow Queen and Bambi (I know, we never thought of the Soviets sharing the same stories, but of course they did!). Just you wait! with a wolf and a hare in constant conflict (like Tom and Jerry but without the violence). Soviet Multiki are Russian cartoons, funny (judging by our daughter’s laughing reaction) and often very quaint and sweet.

The Nutcracker – Bolshoi

It has been such a wonderful discovery to realise that there is a world of cultured, clever, inventive children’s programming out there beyond the Received Pronunciation of the BBC archive. We tend to pickle our childhoods in aspic and think no further than the horizons of our own glorious, forever golden youthful experiences to define what is good and what is not. A real blessing of being married to someone not from this country is the hammer blow it wields to shatter such misconceptions. I have discovered too many cultural treats to list here – thought they are covered in other blogs about Russia – but watching Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker with Emily pirouetting around the room in homage and hearing her sing the culturally ingrained songs from my wife’s youth is a joy. Even I recognise many of them now: Gena’s song on the accordion from Cheburashka, Yolichka (New Year’s song) and Buratinas (Pinocchio to you and me).

Cheburashka and Gena the crocodile

For my part, I have introduced Tanya to The wind in the willows, which she loves. Secretly, this is my most important accomplishment – Russians are much better versed in English literature than we are in theirs. There isn’t a child brought up in Soviet life who does not smile at the memory of ‘Vinnie Pooh’ or Alice in Wonderland. Or Holmes and Watson. Or Dickens’ characters. Jerome K. Jerome’s Three men in a boat is universally loved and my wife can recite virtually the whole cannon of Kipling. So to introduce her to a book which has hitherto escaped her and the entire Soviet educational system’s attention is a rarity. And a joy. I had been looking forward to introducing my daughter to Ratty, Mole and Badger, but especially to Toad. However, Emily will have to wait. I am currently reading The wind in the willows every night to Tanya. The Edwardian language, descriptive, lyrical, slightly elaborate, transports her to a gentler age.

As we read, our sofa becomes a punt, moored in the reeds as the carpet river floats gently by. The fellow feeling she has with Ratty and the friendship with mole appeal to her sense of loyalty and communal good. My affinity with Toad’s excesses and love of the descriptions of riverbank picnics and roaring fires, allied to her appreciation of the language and the soft English countryside make every page a delight to share. So it has been the best Christmas present of all to find a book we both enjoy so much and to unwrap it page by page in front of her eyes, brand new and undiscovered. I am sure it is a present she will return to again and again. I hope so, anyway.

Britishness – Keanworld

Ask not for whom the bell tolls

The magic box