A couple of weeks ago I went for an interview for the position of Communications Assistant at East Sussex County Council. The role had elements of Public Relations, marketing, internal communications, copy writing and administration. Right up my street. I was delighted to get the interview, imagining there would have been many far more experienced candidates applying.
I did my research, looking into the work of the particular department, the software they use and their internal publications and approached the interview with the attitude that it would be good experience, I was very pleased to have got this far and would be amazed if I got the job, so needn't be downhearted if or when I didn't.
The interview offered me plenty of opportunity to demonstrate the transferable skills that were my main selling point and show what I knew about the role but I struggled a little on my answers to questions about specific marketing techniques and communications within large organisations, leaving me relying on common sense and broad experience. I took examples of press releases I written in the past as well as publicity I'd generated in Taiwan for a charity bike ride and when my touring bike was stolen, and these went down well.
I left the interview feeling that I'd done the best I could given my experience and though I probably hadn't got the job, it had been a worthwhile experience.
A few days later I got the call. The initial wording and tone of voice were exactly as I've experienced before. "...I'm sorry to say you were not successful on this occasion" but the woman went on to say that from a field of 28, I was their second choice and that I was definitely employable in that position. I was virtually dumbstruck. This was a real job with real pay and the potential for a career using the language skills I hope to use, and I'd come close to getting it.
The real value of knowing that I'd come close is in knowing what kind of jobs are worth applying for. I know if I apply for a job paying £30,000, there's next to no chance of me being considered. But what about £20,000 or £15,000? After 10 years out, I have very little idea what I should expect to be earning in due course.
So a positive experience in more ways than one, though I am now left with a slightly frustrating feeling of having come closer that I expected. Maybe next time the added confidence will make all the difference.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Synchronicity?
I spent an interesting evening in the pub tonight with a couple who'd recently returned from Thailand. My dad and I walked into The Greyhound, our 500 year old local, and he was greeted by Mel who'd been the original organiser of the Hassocks farmers' market before she and her husband Matt left several years ago.
We hit it off instantly, all three of us having recently returned to the UK after an extended period away. We chatted at length about expat life, differing attitudes to health and safety in Asia as demonstrated by motorbikes that served as either heavy goods vehicles (a live pig strapped to each side) or transport for the whole family (the maximum they'd seen was seven on one bike - can anyone beat that?). If you wear a safety belt, it means you don't trust the driver and so long as you visit the temple before you set off, you won't need a helmet.
We talked of the culture of fear that exists in the west post 9/11, all the while with an unidentified bag sitting on our table teasing us with the notion that it might be... a bomb! Eventually it was taken away and destroyed by the bomb disposal squad.
As the beers flowed, conversation got more philosophical. Inevitably, the story of how I'd cycled from Stoke on Trent to Singapore before ending up in Taiwan came out as did the suggestion that there was an inspirational story to be told and I should write a book about it.
Mel had recently written a book about pre-natal yoga that is set to be published in the next few months. Anyone who's tried to be published will know that it's not easy. Having discussed my situation - unemployed, unsure of which direction to take and having a number of irons in the fire - Mel suggested that we ex-expat writers had met for a reason and if I hadn't got a job yet it was because I was meant to tell my story. I don't believe that any more than I believe that name of the guest ale, Rosey Nosey, was of significance.
If I were a betting man, I'd bet the only reason things happen is cause and effect, without any deeper meaning. From the first moment of creation, we were destined to meet and that has no significance. But that is not to say we cannot give meaning to events. The fact that we, along with the rest of the universe obey the laws of physics, does not belittle our thoughts and feelings or the meaning we give them. Rosey Nosey just happened to be there, but I liked seeing my wife's name on the bar. Science can explain why we fall in love and the chemistry that is going on in our brains when we do, but it will never explain what it feels like.
I came away refreshed in the belief that the story of how four strangers cycled from England to Singapore is one that interests and inspires people and that I am capable of telling it. The first step has been taken..As with the journey itself, the most important thing is to believe it is possible.
The first chapter: http://theplacesbetween-toby.blogspot.com/
We hit it off instantly, all three of us having recently returned to the UK after an extended period away. We chatted at length about expat life, differing attitudes to health and safety in Asia as demonstrated by motorbikes that served as either heavy goods vehicles (a live pig strapped to each side) or transport for the whole family (the maximum they'd seen was seven on one bike - can anyone beat that?). If you wear a safety belt, it means you don't trust the driver and so long as you visit the temple before you set off, you won't need a helmet.
We talked of the culture of fear that exists in the west post 9/11, all the while with an unidentified bag sitting on our table teasing us with the notion that it might be... a bomb! Eventually it was taken away and destroyed by the bomb disposal squad.
As the beers flowed, conversation got more philosophical. Inevitably, the story of how I'd cycled from Stoke on Trent to Singapore before ending up in Taiwan came out as did the suggestion that there was an inspirational story to be told and I should write a book about it.
Mel had recently written a book about pre-natal yoga that is set to be published in the next few months. Anyone who's tried to be published will know that it's not easy. Having discussed my situation - unemployed, unsure of which direction to take and having a number of irons in the fire - Mel suggested that we ex-expat writers had met for a reason and if I hadn't got a job yet it was because I was meant to tell my story. I don't believe that any more than I believe that name of the guest ale, Rosey Nosey, was of significance.
If I were a betting man, I'd bet the only reason things happen is cause and effect, without any deeper meaning. From the first moment of creation, we were destined to meet and that has no significance. But that is not to say we cannot give meaning to events. The fact that we, along with the rest of the universe obey the laws of physics, does not belittle our thoughts and feelings or the meaning we give them. Rosey Nosey just happened to be there, but I liked seeing my wife's name on the bar. Science can explain why we fall in love and the chemistry that is going on in our brains when we do, but it will never explain what it feels like.
I came away refreshed in the belief that the story of how four strangers cycled from England to Singapore is one that interests and inspires people and that I am capable of telling it. The first step has been taken..As with the journey itself, the most important thing is to believe it is possible.
The first chapter: http://theplacesbetween-toby.blogspot.com/
Friday, December 2, 2011
A night at the theatre, a nightcap with my radio, Christmas with my family
We went to see an Alan Ayckbourn play for my mum's birthday last Thursday. Season's Greetings takes place over 3 or 4 days at Christmas in a household beset with continuous low level warfare between extended family members. A warning of what to expect of my first family Christmas since 2000, perhaps.
Going to the theatre is something I've barely done over the past 10 years, partly because of the obvious language issue, though English drama does exist in Taiwan. But it was also to do with the way you live as an expat. You don't lead the same life, have the same routines, move in the same circles that you would do in your home country.
For the time being, I'm living in my parents house and that shapes how I lead my life to some extent. In Taiwan, our living room was dominated by the TV and being a modest sized apartment with no balcony or garden, the living room was the place to be. Consequently, when I wasn't doing anything else, I quite often had the TV on in the background. I'd stumble out of bed, sometimes hungover, and flop in front of the telly until I felt like doing something.
In my parents house it's the kitchen that dominates. I've readopted my lifelong habits of reading the newspaper, listening to Radio 4 and drinking litres of tea. Much more healthy than vegging in front of the telly, I think. I'd been careless enough to lose my tolerance to caffeine in Taiwan - to the extent that I couldn't drink tea after 10pm. I'm happy to say I've now reverted to taking a large mug to bed every night to accompany Sailing By and The Shipping Forecast - pure poetry, if you haven't heard them, have a listen.
I'm looking forward to Christmas. It will have a freshness that perhaps it doesn't for others here. That's not to say we didn't celebrate Christmas in Taiwan. Every year a group of friends centred around Martin, Jim, Ben and myself would do our best to put on a family Christmas with all the trimmings. Martin always made a particular effort on the process, whereas Jim and Ben were perhaps more concerned with the results. I would spend time and money traipsing around the foreign supermarkets in Taipei looking for Christmassy foods, mincemeat to make my mincepies, an approximation to brussels sprouts (that supposedly nobody likes), quality cheeses, cask conditioned ales. We even managed to get gold of Christmas crackers and one year, a Christmas pudding. At that time of year, they were my surrogate family. I'll miss the expat Christmas as much as I missed the "real" Christmas when I was in Taiwan.
Going to the theatre is something I've barely done over the past 10 years, partly because of the obvious language issue, though English drama does exist in Taiwan. But it was also to do with the way you live as an expat. You don't lead the same life, have the same routines, move in the same circles that you would do in your home country.
For the time being, I'm living in my parents house and that shapes how I lead my life to some extent. In Taiwan, our living room was dominated by the TV and being a modest sized apartment with no balcony or garden, the living room was the place to be. Consequently, when I wasn't doing anything else, I quite often had the TV on in the background. I'd stumble out of bed, sometimes hungover, and flop in front of the telly until I felt like doing something.
In my parents house it's the kitchen that dominates. I've readopted my lifelong habits of reading the newspaper, listening to Radio 4 and drinking litres of tea. Much more healthy than vegging in front of the telly, I think. I'd been careless enough to lose my tolerance to caffeine in Taiwan - to the extent that I couldn't drink tea after 10pm. I'm happy to say I've now reverted to taking a large mug to bed every night to accompany Sailing By and The Shipping Forecast - pure poetry, if you haven't heard them, have a listen.
I'm looking forward to Christmas. It will have a freshness that perhaps it doesn't for others here. That's not to say we didn't celebrate Christmas in Taiwan. Every year a group of friends centred around Martin, Jim, Ben and myself would do our best to put on a family Christmas with all the trimmings. Martin always made a particular effort on the process, whereas Jim and Ben were perhaps more concerned with the results. I would spend time and money traipsing around the foreign supermarkets in Taipei looking for Christmassy foods, mincemeat to make my mincepies, an approximation to brussels sprouts (that supposedly nobody likes), quality cheeses, cask conditioned ales. We even managed to get gold of Christmas crackers and one year, a Christmas pudding. At that time of year, they were my surrogate family. I'll miss the expat Christmas as much as I missed the "real" Christmas when I was in Taiwan.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Timing
The UK is heading back into recession and will take a long time to recover, so we're told. Two more years of pain. A lost decade. Etc.
A good friend of mine was trying to persuade me that I should up sticks and leave the UK. It's the wrong place to be and will be for a long time. Be free. Not just George Osborne who is being pressured to come up with a Plan B then. Well, I'm not doing all this again from scratch in 5 years time. The UK is the only game in town, at least until we have established something worth coming back to.
Coming from where I am, it doesn't look so bad. I don't have any assets to downgrade, a mortgage to pay or a job to lose. Anything will be progress. When I get a job, it is likely to pay more than I've ever earned before - though not perhaps in purchasing power. Everything except beer and cheese was cheaper in Taiwan. No pay rise for a couple of years? I haven't had a pay rise in 10 years. In fact, English teaching in Taiwan has attracted approximately the same hourly rate of NT$600 for 20 years or more. In the early 1990s foreigners would find themselves literally dragged off the street by the over excited owners of cram schools and expected to teach English primarily on the grounds that they were white. Halcyon days.
The future is in China. At least as far as English teaching is concerned.
A good friend of mine was trying to persuade me that I should up sticks and leave the UK. It's the wrong place to be and will be for a long time. Be free. Not just George Osborne who is being pressured to come up with a Plan B then. Well, I'm not doing all this again from scratch in 5 years time. The UK is the only game in town, at least until we have established something worth coming back to.
Coming from where I am, it doesn't look so bad. I don't have any assets to downgrade, a mortgage to pay or a job to lose. Anything will be progress. When I get a job, it is likely to pay more than I've ever earned before - though not perhaps in purchasing power. Everything except beer and cheese was cheaper in Taiwan. No pay rise for a couple of years? I haven't had a pay rise in 10 years. In fact, English teaching in Taiwan has attracted approximately the same hourly rate of NT$600 for 20 years or more. In the early 1990s foreigners would find themselves literally dragged off the street by the over excited owners of cram schools and expected to teach English primarily on the grounds that they were white. Halcyon days.
The future is in China. At least as far as English teaching is concerned.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
The right to a family life.
"Start from the assumption that if they can find a way to turn down your visa application, they will do." So said the advisor at the Brighton Housing Trust.
That's reassuring. If the government can find a way to stop my wife from joining me in the UK, they will do so. I was born in the UK. Rosey's Taiwanese. Something's got to give.
"Having said that, if you meet the criteria, they can't turn you down". It's the grey area we're concerned with.
I'd been advised (by the Citizens Advice Bureau) to go to the Brighton Housing Trust rather than paying a private company to help with our visa application. BHT give free and independent legal advice on the Legal Aid scheme, which pays the legal costs of those on low incomes. This, for the moment, includes immigration matters. Without it, Rosey and I would face a charge of £600 or so for help and advice from a private company with no guarantee of success, on top of the £800 paid for the visa itself.
The coalition government are proposing to cut the size and scope of Legal Aid in the upcoming Legal Aid Bill.
I walked in to the immigration advisor's office feeling a little emotional. I get like that quite a lot these days. Time is taking its toll. I forced myself not to dwell on the situation or any thought or feeling that might be distilled into an outward display of emotion. Once inside, it was down to business and there was no space left for pathos. The advisor briefed me on the free, independent and confidential nature of the advice, confirmed my unemployed status and then we began to work through the details of our case.
Essentially, there is only one fly in the ointment with Rosey's visa application. My lack of a job. Other than that, we have a roof over our heads, education and long term prospects, neither of us have ever, in times of either peace or war, been involved in genocide, terrorism or crimes against humanity and we can verify our relationship back to 2004. With a job, the advisor told me, it would be a walk in the park.
Failing that, we'd better get ourselves a cat.*
* to my international readers, Home Secretary Theresa May, and The Daily Mail are under the impression that hoards of nasty foreigners are using Article 8 of the Human Rights Act, which guarantees a right to respect for private and family life, to claim their place in the sun (!) by virtue of their relationships with their British cats.
Confusing though it is for readers of the Daily Mail, the entirely British Human Rights Act passed by the sovereign Parliament of the United Kingdom, is based on the European Convention on Human Rights (nothing to do with the EU) which was drafted by a British Conservative politician close to Winston Churchill, in the tradition of the English Bill of Rights. Not a piece of nasty, bureaucratic, EU legislation foisted on us by Brussels.
That's reassuring. If the government can find a way to stop my wife from joining me in the UK, they will do so. I was born in the UK. Rosey's Taiwanese. Something's got to give.
"Having said that, if you meet the criteria, they can't turn you down". It's the grey area we're concerned with.
I'd been advised (by the Citizens Advice Bureau) to go to the Brighton Housing Trust rather than paying a private company to help with our visa application. BHT give free and independent legal advice on the Legal Aid scheme, which pays the legal costs of those on low incomes. This, for the moment, includes immigration matters. Without it, Rosey and I would face a charge of £600 or so for help and advice from a private company with no guarantee of success, on top of the £800 paid for the visa itself.
The coalition government are proposing to cut the size and scope of Legal Aid in the upcoming Legal Aid Bill.
I walked in to the immigration advisor's office feeling a little emotional. I get like that quite a lot these days. Time is taking its toll. I forced myself not to dwell on the situation or any thought or feeling that might be distilled into an outward display of emotion. Once inside, it was down to business and there was no space left for pathos. The advisor briefed me on the free, independent and confidential nature of the advice, confirmed my unemployed status and then we began to work through the details of our case.
Essentially, there is only one fly in the ointment with Rosey's visa application. My lack of a job. Other than that, we have a roof over our heads, education and long term prospects, neither of us have ever, in times of either peace or war, been involved in genocide, terrorism or crimes against humanity and we can verify our relationship back to 2004. With a job, the advisor told me, it would be a walk in the park.
Failing that, we'd better get ourselves a cat.*
* to my international readers, Home Secretary Theresa May, and The Daily Mail are under the impression that hoards of nasty foreigners are using Article 8 of the Human Rights Act, which guarantees a right to respect for private and family life, to claim their place in the sun (!) by virtue of their relationships with their British cats.
Confusing though it is for readers of the Daily Mail, the entirely British Human Rights Act passed by the sovereign Parliament of the United Kingdom, is based on the European Convention on Human Rights (nothing to do with the EU) which was drafted by a British Conservative politician close to Winston Churchill, in the tradition of the English Bill of Rights. Not a piece of nasty, bureaucratic, EU legislation foisted on us by Brussels.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Shame
At 3am last Saturday night I had an epileptic fit in my sleep. It wasn't serious and I don't remember much about it, though I must have made some noise. All I have is the foggy recollection of coming round to find my mum sitting on the corner of my bed, as mothers do when looking after children. I rolled over and went to sleep. I wasn't particularly into the idea of being mothered. As usual, I just wanted to pretend it hadn't happened and move on.
This only happens a couple of times per year. These days it's usually my wife who picks me up off the floor and reminds me what my name is.
It's not that I feel ashamed of my condition. I don't, although when I was a kid it was hard for me to talk about it. But when it happens, it's usually because I've drunk too much the night before and not got enough sleep. So there's an element of responsibility there. Given that I do have some control over the odds and the fact that if I can last a year without having a fit I can learn to drive, I feel something between disappointment, failure and shame - that I've let myself down. If I never drank to excess and never allowed myself to get overtired, I'd be driving within a year, not to mention having far fewer scars on my body.
It's 01:50 as I write. Time to get some sleep.
This only happens a couple of times per year. These days it's usually my wife who picks me up off the floor and reminds me what my name is.
It's not that I feel ashamed of my condition. I don't, although when I was a kid it was hard for me to talk about it. But when it happens, it's usually because I've drunk too much the night before and not got enough sleep. So there's an element of responsibility there. Given that I do have some control over the odds and the fact that if I can last a year without having a fit I can learn to drive, I feel something between disappointment, failure and shame - that I've let myself down. If I never drank to excess and never allowed myself to get overtired, I'd be driving within a year, not to mention having far fewer scars on my body.
It's 01:50 as I write. Time to get some sleep.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Work.
After quite a few interviews and ultimately no success, I'm unsure how to feel about it. I am doing something wrong or not trying hard enough? Or is it just that given the state of the labour market and public sector funds, competition is strong at the moment? There are many applicants with UK experience, giving them more technical knowledge of policies and curricula, not to mention fluency with jargon. They can talk the talk. It's easier for them to answer the classic interview question "what would you do if...?"
I was even turned down for a tele-fundraising job last week, having got through the initial phone manner test with flying colours. What did I say in the formal interview that put them off?
Time to get some experience. Unpaid work seems to be all the rage these days. I'm already volunteering at the Citizens Advice Bureau but since I'm looking for work, have irregular interviews, meetings and other "stuff to do" it's impossible to make enough of a commitment for them to train me. So I sit, observe, try to make myself useful and get what I can out of the experience. But watching others working, with little more than filing to do yourself isn't great for the self esteem - if you're only doing the filing isn't it because that's all you're good for?
So, in addition to this, I'm going to do a day a week at the local junior school. Hopefully this will make the difference next time a TA job comes up. With Rosey's visa application - for which she needs a means of support - imminent, I certainly hope so.
I was even turned down for a tele-fundraising job last week, having got through the initial phone manner test with flying colours. What did I say in the formal interview that put them off?
Time to get some experience. Unpaid work seems to be all the rage these days. I'm already volunteering at the Citizens Advice Bureau but since I'm looking for work, have irregular interviews, meetings and other "stuff to do" it's impossible to make enough of a commitment for them to train me. So I sit, observe, try to make myself useful and get what I can out of the experience. But watching others working, with little more than filing to do yourself isn't great for the self esteem - if you're only doing the filing isn't it because that's all you're good for?
So, in addition to this, I'm going to do a day a week at the local junior school. Hopefully this will make the difference next time a TA job comes up. With Rosey's visa application - for which she needs a means of support - imminent, I certainly hope so.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
What is normal?
What is normal?
When I was 17, I used to try to grow my thumbnail as long as I could. The only reason was curiosity - to see how far I could get. There are better objectives to set yourself perhaps, and it certainly was perceived as "weird" by those around me. In east Asia however, it's quite normal for men to grow their thumbnails.
Is it normal to be living with your parents in your mid thirties? Does this indicate some kind of failing? Whether or not other people are thinking it, the thought has crossed my mind. I've heard "Living With Mother" on Radio 4.
It's worth considering. Of course, on a statistical level it is not normal. Most people don't. Then again, in many parts of the world, three or four generational families are very normal and it's not necessarily the wage earners in the middle who wear the trousers.
I have chosen a different life, there's no getting away from it. Living with your parents, even after you're married is normal. I have friends who live like that in Taiwan. I have several friends/couples who have lived like that in the UK for months if not over a year. To them I'm normal(ish), but that is the crux - we are not normal.
Fortunately, there's a whole load of freaks and weirdos out there to keep us company.
When I was 17, I used to try to grow my thumbnail as long as I could. The only reason was curiosity - to see how far I could get. There are better objectives to set yourself perhaps, and it certainly was perceived as "weird" by those around me. In east Asia however, it's quite normal for men to grow their thumbnails.
Is it normal to be living with your parents in your mid thirties? Does this indicate some kind of failing? Whether or not other people are thinking it, the thought has crossed my mind. I've heard "Living With Mother" on Radio 4.
It's worth considering. Of course, on a statistical level it is not normal. Most people don't. Then again, in many parts of the world, three or four generational families are very normal and it's not necessarily the wage earners in the middle who wear the trousers.
I have chosen a different life, there's no getting away from it. Living with your parents, even after you're married is normal. I have friends who live like that in Taiwan. I have several friends/couples who have lived like that in the UK for months if not over a year. To them I'm normal(ish), but that is the crux - we are not normal.
Fortunately, there's a whole load of freaks and weirdos out there to keep us company.
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