spirituality – Page 2 – Teacher Joseph's Sound Archive

Weekly Lesson: A Trip to the Vet’s (Surgery)

Weekly Lesson: A Trip to the Vet’s (Surgery). For study until 29th of September 2024 Subject : A Trip to the Vet’s (Surgery) Audio : On usual social media platforms.

For study until 29th of September 2024

Subject: A Trip to the Vet’s (Surgery)

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

I heard an American Politician talking the other day about vets and it crossed my mind that these doctors who are caring for our little fluffy friends are somehow very important in American English. Actually, he was abbreviating the word “veteran” as in “war veteran”. On this side of the pond a vet is a veterinary surgeon, not a veteran. It took me a while to work that one out. Especially when he talked about their valuable contribution to the country.

Anyway, On Saturday morning I once again found myself with the pet carrier discussing British weather with the vet. It always feels familiar:

“Good morning, miserable weather isn’t it?”

“Yes it really is….. was worse yesterday”

“Yes… yesterday was bad”.

Only after the obligatory small talk was I able to move on and bring the conversation round to the topic of my cat.

“Oh look at this little sausage” she gleaned…..

Both my cat, and myself stared bitterly. This was the second vet in two weeks who referred to him as a cute sausage. It seemed a bit of a strange thing to say. I mean it is known that British people don’t celebrate food. Why would they call my cat a “sausage”? My cat rolled his eyes and made a noise and hissed. I assured her it wasn’t personal. Anyway, what kind of sausage was she referring to?

Referring to a beef sausage could upset me because I’m vegetarian.

Referring to a pork sausage could upset just about everyone who follows a religion other than Christianity.

Referring to a vegetarian sausage might be ok – but why would she compare my cat to a vegetarian sausage?

My mind slowly drifted back, especially when the cat attacked the scales which were there to weigh him.

“He actually hates everyone” I quipped “It’s not just you”.

“I am usually very good with black and white cats” she replied. Her remark was an incredibly weird thing to say. It reminded me of some kind of speed dating event. My mind drifted to the only speed dating event I ever attended. It was in a sushi bar I was more interested in the sushi passing by on the belt. The fried tempura prawns were delicious, but I also discovered that I love raw salmon. I don’t remember any of the people from that day but I do remember the dishes.

My mind returned to the situation on hand…“Cat stereotyping?” I thought. “black and white cats like me more?”

We got into the usual conversation about how strange cats can be, neither of us noticed that my cat had been eyeing up the PC and had decided to chew her monitor cable. He jumped off the table just as the screen went black.

“Oh he’s such a cutie” she nervously laughed, before advising me to get his teeth checked as she disconnected the power on her computer.

“He’s definitely obese” – “8 kilograms”. The cat and I looked puzzled. Obese is such a hard word for anyone to hear. It seemed like only yesterday a nurse was talking about my diabetes and told me the very same thing. I could feel his pain. Was this the vet’s revenge for the chewed cable?

“That’s 1.52 stone” she muttered under her breath…

“Ahh – now I get it” – Kilograms mean nothing to me.

“Yes, I’m also not ok with the metric system” was her reply.

Then came the uncomfortable conversation about the bill. It felt like that moment at the end of the movie where you think to yourself “the movie has finished? What about that last character, and what about that storyline and that character…” So many unanswered questions.

“So…. That’s £140.58 pence please…”

“OK” – I answered

“Any plans for today? – back to the awful weather?” she uttered to try and break the ice a bit.

“Not really – I need to clean my apartment”

She petted Ptofi, he hissed at her and then bit her…..

“Oh I think he likes you” I commented while she winced in pain.

“its my perfume” she said….. “they always go crazy for it”.

I thought for a second that maybe I had missed some undercurrent in this conversation. Did she realise that he “wasn’t going crazy for it” – he just bit her…which for me means he didn’t like it but I decided to ignore her words.

While clutching my American Express card I carried the cat to the till. The receptionist blew loads of kisses at him, He turned and faced the other way and then we launched into a really weird conversation:

“How do I claim this from my pet Insurance?”

“If you have pet insurance we will tell them”

“I do have pet insurance”

“If you have that’s great”

“Would you like the details”

“If you have them that would be great”

I was getting kind of tired of all these “if’s” and handed her the policy number. Direct communication usually gets easier once you pay people.

Then my cat Ptofi and I booked a taxi and went home, the cat felt better, my wallet felt lighter and the vet was £140 pounds better off. The whole thing reminded me of a series of British public information videos called “Charley Says…” which they used to show on TV. You should YouTube them, they are very strange and eccentrically British. A talking cat with a little boy who translates the voice of his pet cat called Charley.

Anyway, my cat was later admitted to an emergency animal hospital on Saturday afternoon, where he still is. The hospital called me a few times to say that he keeps biting everyone. So I guess he’s making a good recovery and I am hoping to pick him up later today.

Note to myself, for later: Head to a sushi bar this week, to relax.

Weekly Lesson: Doors Open Day 2024

Weekly Lesson: Doors Open Day 2024. For study until 15th of September 2024 Subject : Doors Open Day Audio : On usual social media platforms.

For study until 15th of September 2024

Subject: Doors Open Day

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

When I am out and about one of my little joys is discovering new buildings, architecture and exploring different places. I really love taking pictures of every nook and cranny that I can possibly access. With that in mind you can imagine then that I really look forward to Doors Open Day, that weekend of the year when my town suddenly loosens its chains and I can access anywhere. Such as local Courthouses or underground tunnels beneath one of the main streets. Even local businesses jump on the bandwagon and are keen to show their wares.

Across the country around September time, the doors of old buildings are flung open for around two days and members of the public can go and explore them. The great thing is that every area has their own weekend so for the whole month, you can visit old buildings in surrounding areas and see inside some of these amazing structures.

Of course some of these places offer us great examples of Victorian kitsch. Famous and popular in their day but now presenting us with laughter, head scratching and incredulity. For example, there are a number of Victorian swimming pools, grand in their appearance with colourful marble and with roman pillars at the entrance. There are others which offer us a glimpse of history, into a time long forgotten, reminding us how we used to live. Forgotten metro stations, underground streets for example.

As always on Doors Open weekend, I scour the Internet searching for the places I want to visit. It feels a bit like that euphoria you get when you buy a lottery ticket. “This time you are going to win for sure” you tell yourself, but yet somewhere inside you know that your expectations aren’t going to be met.

The list of places for Doors Open Day looked something like this:

The Old Church – Hmm – I did that last year

The Abbey – Eh, no, I got married there, that was enough

The Courthouse – Exciting last year but not this year

The Cemetery – Seriously? No. Besides, I was there last week

The Observatory – yeah, yeah, a possibility

The Library – really, there’s no way. I was there for its opening

The University – there’s no way

The old Prison – Um… why does that sound exciting to me?

So finally I decided upon another local Church that no one ever goes to. In fact attendance is so low that it will be closing its doors permanently in the near future. It was only a short walking distance away.

As I approached the main door, a woman stepped forward wearing a navy coloured business suit and pearls:

“Feel free to walk around” she said in a way that sounded almost menacing… “don’t forget to check out our refurbished Victorian toilet suite” she beamed.

I had completely forgotten, British people are immensely proud of toilets, toilet humour and things associated with the body.

“Um… thanks ok” I responded, trying not to show how bizarre the whole thing sounded….

“Would you like a…(pause, stare) magazine?” she continued.

“Eh yes…. (pause, stare) I’ll take one” I smiled and walked a few steps away. I never understood why Churches always seem to be full of people with fake upper class English accents. Our class system died years ago, yet there are many people here who would love to keep that going. I put my best Received Pronunciation on rerun – just to make her feel comfortable. She’d certainly met her match, if she was trying to play a game of accents with me.

“How lovely” I responded.

Attending Church in the UK can be a little bit creepy and she reminded me of all the reasons why I like spending Sunday mornings at home cooking or talking to people on Skype. Her attempt at smiling seemed terribly out of date with red lipstick stuck to the front of her teeth – clearly this Church wasn’t accustomed to visitors.

By the time she had another victim, the woman who walked in after me, I had moved on:

“I love your bracelet” I heard from a distance.

“Oh this little trinket…?” she commented as she revealed a chunk of gold twisted around her wrist.

I was half expecting two security guards, employed solely to guard the bracelet to emerge from the darkened corners because that chunk of gold looked expensive. This Guide clearly didn’t come from my side of town.

I toured the Church – it was nice and had all the charm of a prison, it even had bars on the windows. Then of course I followed the signs to their top attraction – the Victorian toilet which had its own security guard, to remind us that it’s “for display only” (in other words don’t try to use it). I didn’t quite know what to say about it. I mean it really was a toilet made of marble.

“It was put in, in 1897” she murmured…

“Great, yes…” I replied, slotting into politeness and small talk mode.

She must have been at least age 70 with a hair style which I hadn’t see since Prince Andrew’s marriage to Sarah Ferguson in the 1980s. Hence the term “Fergie Bow” – a type of hairstyle tied back in a piece of linen cloth. Just as Princess Catherine is called “Kate”, Diana was called “Di”. Sarah is “Fergie”.

“Oh well, I have to dash…..” – “it’s been lovely” I chirped… backing away towards the door.

I was grateful for the experience but the British eccentricity was overpowering and so was the general discomfort of mixing with others. It was greatly reassuring to sense they felt the same way.

As these old buildings find other uses and are converted into gyms, bars, nightclubs and even Ikea shops. I wonder how much longer the sense of the sacred will be preserved and whether these Doors Open Days will be a thing of the past. Until then they remain stark reminders, of the British Empire, complete with war memorials, roll books, gold and silver. Keeping alive the very thing the rest of us are trying to forget. Yet very soon Religion here will be a thing of the past.

Our state sponsored Christian Churches like the Church of England along with the Military and Parliament represent something eccentrically and uniquely British. Three sides of the same triangle. It’s hard to imagine a trinity with one part missing. A country with only Military and Parliament sounds more like some kind of South American Dictatorship. Change is coming but what that looks like, nobody knows.

What’s coming next? That’s the key question.

Weekly Lesson, Cancel Culture: Pigeon Racing

Weekly Lesson, Cancel Culture: Pigeon Racing. Subject : Cancel Culture: Pigeon Racing Audio : On usual social media platforms.

Subject: Cancel Culture: Pigeon Racing

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

Cancel Culture: Pigeon Racing

In the 1970s before the Internet came, pigeon racing was all the rage. It was fairly common to see both young and old men owning pigeon lofts. These were like large garden sheds specifically custom-built to house racing pigeons. The culture of pigeon racing always piqued my curiosity because both my Father and Grandfather had their own lofts at the bottom of their gardens and were fee paying members of their local pigeon racing club. Even the Queen was in on the act, she had her own pigeon loft and was racing her own pigeons until her death. Sadly the new King withdrew his patronage from pigeon associations and charities shortly after he was crowned. People who breed and race pigeons are sometimes known as pigeon fanciers.

Pages: 12

Weekly Lesson: The Shopping Mall

Weekly Lesson: The Shopping Mall. For study until 11 August 2024 Subject : The Shopping Mall Audio : On usual social media platforms.

For study until 11 August 2024

Subject: The Shopping Mall

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

The Shopping Mall

Until the early 80s my town had a Butcher, Fishmonger, Newsagent, a really weird shop that sold only towels and a Fruit shop. By 1984 the country was gripped with a political fervour. A new breath was sweeping over the country in the early eighties with the promise of Capitalism.

Pages: 12

Weekly Lesson: My Mate Karim

Weekly Lesson: My Mate Karim. For study until 21 July 2024 Subject : My Mate Karim Audio : On usual social media platforms.

For study until 21 July 2024

Subject: My Mate Karim

Audio: On usual social media platforms.

Sometimes I forget how diverse British culture is because I just go with the flow. I don’t really have any hard and fast views of what a British man is supposed to look or act like.

So when my mate Karim appeared one night back in 2006 telling me his mother finally found someone for him to marry, it didn’t come as any great shock. We came from different backgrounds but we simply didn’t care. We were very good friends.

He started by telling me how he was a little bit nervous about his forthcoming marriage. He had agreed that his parents would find a bride and that the wedding would take place in the town where his grandparents had immigrated to the UK from, back in the 1960s.

“We are like chalk and cheese” he said referring to himself and his future wife. Then he told me his great idea:

“Why don’t we fly to Pakistan together and you can get married too?” he suggested.

I could see he had a look of desperation in his eyes. He didn’t want to face this alone.

“Thanks” I replied…

“but that’s not really workable for me”. and nervously laughed at what I hoped was a joke.

I had seen that look before, I always thought of it as the kind of look a deer gets before it gets struck by a car in the middle of the night.

“It really is game over” he continued.

Karim was just as British as I am and culturally he pushed himself to enjoy everything he could, a sportsman, popular with the ladies and one of these guys who always had a friend, cousin or uncle who was ready to offer any kind of “deal” that you might be after.

I’ve had enough British Born Pakistani friends in my life to know that there was no way out of this for him and he had been preparing for this moment for some months. He considered himself lucky that he knew the girl, it was one of his cousins. Although I could never really figure out how they were related, they were cousins but 5 times removed and he barely knew her.

I considered Karim to be very fortunate because he walked between two worlds, which left his mind open in a way few people reach. By day he was very much living up to his parent’s high expectations of Islamic South East Asian living and by night he was the disco king, with a childlike determination to achieve everything Western living could offer until 1am most weekends. He was able to merge the two ways of life without going insane and without the usual crutches young white men rely on, drugs and alcohol. Mixing with Karim introduced me to a lot of places and people where alcohol was not at the forefront of people’s minds.

I had almost the same conversation with my Chinese friend, although he came to Britain in the 1990s to study and eventually stayed. There was a moment when his parents simply advised “it was time to marry” and he went scurrying off to China. He also maintained that look of fear which he tried to hide behind a kind of masculine persona.

Karim had certain qualities that I never found in my own peer group, loyalty, friendship, brotherliness and in many ways he was more of a Brother to me than my own brother was. I often wished I was half the man he was, yet he faced discrimination, judgement, intense expectations from his kin and from the society that we live in. The difference between his life and mine was that he came from a community, a network of people who loved and supported him yet he wanted to be independent. Like most British people I was taught not to expect help from people and to make the best of what I can achieve alone. I had independence but was seeking community.

I was invited to his British wedding celebration, he arrived on a white horse dressed in Indian Clothes with photographers, surrounded by his family and I was reminded again how different culturally we are. His wedding had 300 people, in contrast, at my wedding there were 4, me, my other half and two witnesses and even one of them I didn’t know personally. My parents had long since passed away and there was no one else in the family I keep in touch with. In his words “Arranged Marriage isn’t that bad – you just fight for six months then you learn to live with each other”.

Karim moved to the Emirates, I moved to Spain and we kind of found what we wanted – some sense of knowing more about who we are. To be British was to be a Global Citizen in the 1990s, but by today’s standards I’m not sure that’s the message the next generation are receiving. With Borders closing, Brexit, crimes rising and attitudes changing, Karim says he was right to move to raise his family in a place where he knows they will be in a diverse atmosphere. After all, diversity is the one true thing we all have in common.

As extreme political views ebb closer to the front in Politics the gap between those of us who want a diverse mixed culture and those of us who don’t is widening. There’s obviously people who feel that being British means something else – maybe Karim, my Chinese friend and many others never got that Email.

(Never got that Email in this case simply means “were not aware”)

Affirmations

Monday – My English keeps getting better.

Do you truly believe that statement? If not, why not.

Tuesday – My efforts are paying off.

What are you doing differently from when you first started studying English? How long did it take before you saw results. Why was there a delay?

Wednesday – Others are amazed at how quickly I learn.

Being honest…. how long did it take you to get to this point? Why was that?

Thursday – I love learning English.

Did you hesitate when you read this? Why do you think you don’t love it?

Friday – English is becoming more natural daily

What progress are you measuring?

Weekly Lesson: British People and Food: My Story, by Teacher Joseph

Weekly Lesson: British People and Food: My Story, by Teacher Joseph. For study until 30 June 2024 Subject : British People and Food: My Story, by Teacher Joseph Audio : On usual Social media platforms.

For study until 30 June 2024

Subject: British People and Food: My Story, by Teacher Joseph

Audio: On usual Social media platforms.

Free Entry to Museums and Galleries

Free Entry to Museums and Galleries. This was known as a DCMS Scheme since the Government department responsible for these places is currently called the Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS).

Weekly Lesson – for study until Sunday the 9th of June

Audio – Available on all usual social media

Subject: Free Entry to Museums and Galleries, by Teacher Joseph

1. The Universal Access Scheme which granted free access to all Government Sponsored Museums, Art Galleries and some places of national interest in the UK began in December 2001. This was known as a DCMS Scheme since the Government department responsible for these places is currently called the Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS). Research claims that free entry to these places are key motivators for tourists visiting the UK. By removing entrance fees to these places, everyone, including tourists has free access to a type of Education which only the Arts and a dialogue about living history can bring.