The title aptly describes the typical me. All by myself. Yes, that's what I'm usually like. Despite having 195 friends in Facebook, 63 contacts in Friendster, 55 in Myspace and more in Flickr, I'm actually alone here in this world. Yes, I have a family too, but hmm... nevermind.
Someone told me that I'm a selfish person. Somehow I agree with her. I am selfish. I was trained to be selfish. It's part of my childhood survival. In case you're wondering, I didn't have a normal childhood, but I guess I'm no different than most kids of my time. You gotta be selfish to survive. If you don't think for yourself, no one will.
Well, that's how I was brought up. I brought myself up. Yes yes, I was put in a boarding school at a very young age and was left to defend myself against the cultureshock, bully (it was kinda legal in those days), and more crucially, left to defend myself against the onset feeling of loneliness. Oh boy, was I lonely in those days... all alone, and I was only 14.
I had just turned 14 when I was asked to pack up in 3 days and fly off to UK to begin my new life there. Now, that would have been great to most people, but I had never left home before that. I had a docile but stable life. No boarding school, no summer camp, nadda. And suddenly this...
I was put in an all boys school in England. I remember vividly the whole saga, from the day my parents broke the news till my first day at my new school. I arrived in Heathrow on Thursday evening, probably around 6pm, in early autumn, which was already getting dark at that time. My parents rented an apartment called Parkwest in Edgware Rd. I remember the tungsten lights in the house, as the English dislike flourescent lights like we do here in Malaysia. It was all yellowish and rather dim, and it reeks of curry (somehow cooking asian food in UK makes ur house stink, probably because of the low humidity in the air).
Anyway, that night we decided to have dinner in one of the kebab restaurants there called Halal. Yes, there is halal food in London! Now you can see how naive I was then. It was the best kebab I ever tasted. Not to mention it was the FIRST kebab I ever tasted.
Whilst I rather enjoyed being in a foreign land where the air is much colder than my hometown Ipoh, plus the fact that smoke comes out of your mouth when you speak (that was really cool!), it was a period of disbelieve. I was totally overwhelmed by the whole situation. Just as yesterday I was in Ipoh, going about my usual routine to school and meeting my usual group of friends, and suddenly I was brought into this foreign land (I boarded the flight on my own and was stopped at the immigration department for being a suspicious runaway renegade with all but GBP50 in my pocket, but that's another story) with absolutely no idea of what's gonna happen to me from then on. I had totally submitted to the situation. I knew that tomorrow will be a new life for me, and that I would have to adapt, absorb, tolerate and relent to what's to come. Heck, all these were playing in my mind as I munched my kebab in the company of my parents.
A New Day
It was a Friday morning when I was woken up by my mother. It must have been 7 in the morning but lost the track of time. I had even lost my sense of bearing, thinking that I was still back at home. Gimme a break! I'm still suffering from shock and disbelief, also jetlag. Apparently, jetlag screws up your sleeping time, as I found out later in the week.
Anyway, she told me that it's time to go shopping for stuff. I remember going to Oxford Street and heading for Marks & Spencer to look for thermals and duvet. Thermals are insulating clothing you wear next to your skin. It keeps your balls from freezing in the cold, amongst other things. A duvet is a thick blanket and it bloody cost an arm (GBP60 I think it was). Apparently I was told that these are the essentials, as later I would find out how true this was. We headed home after the shopping spree and if I can recall correctly (mind you this was in Sept 1988 so my memory is a bit rusty u know!) they brought me to my new school later that afternoon.
It was called Pangbourne College. The drive from London West End to Pangbourne was approximately 45 minutes in a Volkswagen Golf, but felt longer since my heart didn't stop pounding throughout the journey. I was nervous. Very nervous. I remember taking the M4 motorway, exit at No 11. What is Pangbourne College like you might ask? Now, in the absence of the Internet (we didn't even know that computers can be hooked up to a network in those days, and the screen couldn't display graphics or pictures. Heck, the word Internet wasn't even created then), the next best place to look for information was the encyclopedia. Yes, boys and girls, do make note of this word.
Definition of encyclopedia: "A work containing information on all subjects, or limited to a special field or subject, arranged in a systematic order. Encyclopedias may be in one volume, or they may be in many volumes in which the various matters will be treated comprehensively."
I had looked up Pangbourne College from my mother's encyclopedia before I flew off to the UK. To my surprised, there was a mention on the school. I was pretty chuffed to find it in there, but failed to imagine what the school looks like as there were no pictures attached. Oh well, at least I knew it was a Naval College. A WHAT?? WTF is this???
A freaking military school!! Oh God, I'm really gonna die this time. I had no freaking idea what military college is all about. I've heard stories about it (the Royal Military College in Malaysia or RMC is probably the only military college that I know of then) and they were gruesome stories about torture, ragging, and err... faggoty moments! What have they gotten me into this time? I'm so gonna be fucked! Not literally I mean.
Upon arrival at Pangbourne College, we met with some folks sporting blonde hair and blue eyes speaking in an accent I find hard to understand. It was very weird standing and talking to these people, a totally surreal experience. Wow, I thought. This is just like the TV series Mind Your Language! Unfortunately I couldn't converse much. You know, the English accent is kinda difficult to pickup, especially on the first day (ok, second day) of being in a foreign land!
Our first stop was the Seamstress. What the heck is a Seamstress? Well, it seems that it is a place to buy your school clothes. Ok! Simple enuff. Just tryout for size and off you go. Or so I thought. The first thing I notice was that I had to wear 3 uniforms and a burberry for when it rains/snows. A burberry is like a raincoat, only that it doesn't repel rain and you can still be drenched by the British downpour. Funny these English people. I suppose waterproof nylon wasn't invented in the UK so they had to make do with wool. Oh another thing, I have to wear these hideous looking black-laced leather shoes too. I call them 'kasut motorboat', or motorboat shoes by the sound they make when one walks in them. Wearing them made me look like a 70 year old! No way dude, I'm not wearing those. I wanna wear my white sneakers! Damn!!! I'm really gonna feel outta place here...
Next stop was my new hall of residence. They put me in a house called Hesperus. You see, there were 5 houses or divisions as they called it there. Hesperus, Harbinger, McQuarie, Port Jackson and Illawara divisions. Now I was starting to feel military already. Heck!
We first went to see the Housemaster by the name of David Harris. He lived in a separate 2-story duplex apartment attached to the house itself. He introduced himself and asked me questions about myself and my educational background. I remembered my mom telling me to say "yes sir" whenever he asked me stuff, and not "yeah" like the Americans do. Mothers!! You can't live without them.
Mr Harris called in a cute boy by the name of Alex to help me settle in. His name was Alex Knight but I only remembered his first name at the time. He immediately reminded me of my then best friend Cican. Funny how the brain tries to relate everything to something you're familiar with. In truth, he looks nothing like Cican. Hmmm, my mind was still in shock u see. Alex took me to the dormitory on the top floor which was to be my room for the next three terms or so. Actually I should say our room as I had to share with 9 or 10 other white boys. They all looked like 7 year olds except for one lanky dude. This was my first time sharing a place to sleep with other boys. Weirdness rating 8/10. I had the bed nearest to the door, which I was glad as I didn't wanna be sandwiched between two strangers. So after all that introduction and a brief tour of the house, we went back to see Mr Harris.
Since it was a Friday, he said to let me spend a night here and take me back home tomorrow but to come back by Sunday night. Yes! I'm going back to London after all. I just have to survive one nite here in Pangbourne. How hard can it be? Are you kidding me??
I remember the first night. Cold, cold, cold! I shivered until I slept. And that was under a 3- layer duvet made by Dorma. It was the thickest duvet in the dorm! Owh I'm so gonna die this time. I didn't manage to chat much with my new found dorm mates as I was really tired from all the stressful events leading up to my first day at school. It seemed that I had no rest and no time to reflect upon the events that unfolded. Also, my English was crap and I didn't wanna make a fool of myself.
The next day, my parents came to pick me up and I was ever so glad to see them again. In all fairness, it must have been difficult for them too, but hey, I was the one being thrown into this new life. It was a surreal experience to say the least, and I couldn't believe I'm going through this phase of my life at such an early and immature age. The events that unfolded from then on shaped my life to what I have become today...
Someone told me that I'm a selfish person. Somehow I agree with her. I am selfish. I was trained to be selfish. It's part of my childhood survival. In case you're wondering, I didn't have a normal childhood, but I guess I'm no different than most kids of my time. You gotta be selfish to survive. If you don't think for yourself, no one will.
Well, that's how I was brought up. I brought myself up. Yes yes, I was put in a boarding school at a very young age and was left to defend myself against the cultureshock, bully (it was kinda legal in those days), and more crucially, left to defend myself against the onset feeling of loneliness. Oh boy, was I lonely in those days... all alone, and I was only 14.
I had just turned 14 when I was asked to pack up in 3 days and fly off to UK to begin my new life there. Now, that would have been great to most people, but I had never left home before that. I had a docile but stable life. No boarding school, no summer camp, nadda. And suddenly this...
I was put in an all boys school in England. I remember vividly the whole saga, from the day my parents broke the news till my first day at my new school. I arrived in Heathrow on Thursday evening, probably around 6pm, in early autumn, which was already getting dark at that time. My parents rented an apartment called Parkwest in Edgware Rd. I remember the tungsten lights in the house, as the English dislike flourescent lights like we do here in Malaysia. It was all yellowish and rather dim, and it reeks of curry (somehow cooking asian food in UK makes ur house stink, probably because of the low humidity in the air).
Anyway, that night we decided to have dinner in one of the kebab restaurants there called Halal. Yes, there is halal food in London! Now you can see how naive I was then. It was the best kebab I ever tasted. Not to mention it was the FIRST kebab I ever tasted.
Whilst I rather enjoyed being in a foreign land where the air is much colder than my hometown Ipoh, plus the fact that smoke comes out of your mouth when you speak (that was really cool!), it was a period of disbelieve. I was totally overwhelmed by the whole situation. Just as yesterday I was in Ipoh, going about my usual routine to school and meeting my usual group of friends, and suddenly I was brought into this foreign land (I boarded the flight on my own and was stopped at the immigration department for being a suspicious runaway renegade with all but GBP50 in my pocket, but that's another story) with absolutely no idea of what's gonna happen to me from then on. I had totally submitted to the situation. I knew that tomorrow will be a new life for me, and that I would have to adapt, absorb, tolerate and relent to what's to come. Heck, all these were playing in my mind as I munched my kebab in the company of my parents.
A New Day
It was a Friday morning when I was woken up by my mother. It must have been 7 in the morning but lost the track of time. I had even lost my sense of bearing, thinking that I was still back at home. Gimme a break! I'm still suffering from shock and disbelief, also jetlag. Apparently, jetlag screws up your sleeping time, as I found out later in the week.
Anyway, she told me that it's time to go shopping for stuff. I remember going to Oxford Street and heading for Marks & Spencer to look for thermals and duvet. Thermals are insulating clothing you wear next to your skin. It keeps your balls from freezing in the cold, amongst other things. A duvet is a thick blanket and it bloody cost an arm (GBP60 I think it was). Apparently I was told that these are the essentials, as later I would find out how true this was. We headed home after the shopping spree and if I can recall correctly (mind you this was in Sept 1988 so my memory is a bit rusty u know!) they brought me to my new school later that afternoon.
It was called Pangbourne College. The drive from London West End to Pangbourne was approximately 45 minutes in a Volkswagen Golf, but felt longer since my heart didn't stop pounding throughout the journey. I was nervous. Very nervous. I remember taking the M4 motorway, exit at No 11. What is Pangbourne College like you might ask? Now, in the absence of the Internet (we didn't even know that computers can be hooked up to a network in those days, and the screen couldn't display graphics or pictures. Heck, the word Internet wasn't even created then), the next best place to look for information was the encyclopedia. Yes, boys and girls, do make note of this word.
Definition of encyclopedia: "A work containing information on all subjects, or limited to a special field or subject, arranged in a systematic order. Encyclopedias may be in one volume, or they may be in many volumes in which the various matters will be treated comprehensively."
I had looked up Pangbourne College from my mother's encyclopedia before I flew off to the UK. To my surprised, there was a mention on the school. I was pretty chuffed to find it in there, but failed to imagine what the school looks like as there were no pictures attached. Oh well, at least I knew it was a Naval College. A WHAT?? WTF is this???
A freaking military school!! Oh God, I'm really gonna die this time. I had no freaking idea what military college is all about. I've heard stories about it (the Royal Military College in Malaysia or RMC is probably the only military college that I know of then) and they were gruesome stories about torture, ragging, and err... faggoty moments! What have they gotten me into this time? I'm so gonna be fucked! Not literally I mean.
Upon arrival at Pangbourne College, we met with some folks sporting blonde hair and blue eyes speaking in an accent I find hard to understand. It was very weird standing and talking to these people, a totally surreal experience. Wow, I thought. This is just like the TV series Mind Your Language! Unfortunately I couldn't converse much. You know, the English accent is kinda difficult to pickup, especially on the first day (ok, second day) of being in a foreign land!
Our first stop was the Seamstress. What the heck is a Seamstress? Well, it seems that it is a place to buy your school clothes. Ok! Simple enuff. Just tryout for size and off you go. Or so I thought. The first thing I notice was that I had to wear 3 uniforms and a burberry for when it rains/snows. A burberry is like a raincoat, only that it doesn't repel rain and you can still be drenched by the British downpour. Funny these English people. I suppose waterproof nylon wasn't invented in the UK so they had to make do with wool. Oh another thing, I have to wear these hideous looking black-laced leather shoes too. I call them 'kasut motorboat', or motorboat shoes by the sound they make when one walks in them. Wearing them made me look like a 70 year old! No way dude, I'm not wearing those. I wanna wear my white sneakers! Damn!!! I'm really gonna feel outta place here...
Next stop was my new hall of residence. They put me in a house called Hesperus. You see, there were 5 houses or divisions as they called it there. Hesperus, Harbinger, McQuarie, Port Jackson and Illawara divisions. Now I was starting to feel military already. Heck!
We first went to see the Housemaster by the name of David Harris. He lived in a separate 2-story duplex apartment attached to the house itself. He introduced himself and asked me questions about myself and my educational background. I remembered my mom telling me to say "yes sir" whenever he asked me stuff, and not "yeah" like the Americans do. Mothers!! You can't live without them.
Mr Harris called in a cute boy by the name of Alex to help me settle in. His name was Alex Knight but I only remembered his first name at the time. He immediately reminded me of my then best friend Cican. Funny how the brain tries to relate everything to something you're familiar with. In truth, he looks nothing like Cican. Hmmm, my mind was still in shock u see. Alex took me to the dormitory on the top floor which was to be my room for the next three terms or so. Actually I should say our room as I had to share with 9 or 10 other white boys. They all looked like 7 year olds except for one lanky dude. This was my first time sharing a place to sleep with other boys. Weirdness rating 8/10. I had the bed nearest to the door, which I was glad as I didn't wanna be sandwiched between two strangers. So after all that introduction and a brief tour of the house, we went back to see Mr Harris.
Since it was a Friday, he said to let me spend a night here and take me back home tomorrow but to come back by Sunday night. Yes! I'm going back to London after all. I just have to survive one nite here in Pangbourne. How hard can it be? Are you kidding me??
I remember the first night. Cold, cold, cold! I shivered until I slept. And that was under a 3- layer duvet made by Dorma. It was the thickest duvet in the dorm! Owh I'm so gonna die this time. I didn't manage to chat much with my new found dorm mates as I was really tired from all the stressful events leading up to my first day at school. It seemed that I had no rest and no time to reflect upon the events that unfolded. Also, my English was crap and I didn't wanna make a fool of myself.
The next day, my parents came to pick me up and I was ever so glad to see them again. In all fairness, it must have been difficult for them too, but hey, I was the one being thrown into this new life. It was a surreal experience to say the least, and I couldn't believe I'm going through this phase of my life at such an early and immature age. The events that unfolded from then on shaped my life to what I have become today...
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