In my experience Exam season has been associated with long dull sessions spent slaving over books in bedrooms and libraries dreaming of the moment I step out of my final test. Exams at Future Hope have brought almost the opposite.
Jemima and I ventured off to some of the tourist sights, taking in the crammed flower market on the banks of the Hoogli river. In amongst the beautiful sights and smells created by the flowers, the river itself is a swelling flow of sewage and waste, quite a revolting scene.
We also called in at the colonial General Post Office and the historic St John's church. At the latter, we made two marvellous discoveries: the first was a potential ancestor of mine ascending up the Griffin side of my gene pool; the second was "John" of St John's - the quirky, eccentric, hair-in-dreadlocks, broken-hipped organist of the church. He gave us the grand tour as we were "friends of the lovely Charlotte", which included a personal performance of Auld Lang Sine and Pink Floyd on the organ.
Sunday saw the continuation of my career along the Indian red carpet. The previous week I found myself at the Bengal Fashion Week, sitting front row on the final showcase! We even got free chocolates thanks to our seats. While at the show I bumped into a man, Prasanta, who once represented India in an International darts tournament held in none other than Bridlington, Yorkshire. After a bit of white rose bonding, he invited me to join him at the Kolkata Fashion Show the following weekend. This invitation turned into a request for me to walk in the show. Although initially sceptical, encouragement from the other volunteers saw me throw on a pair of high heels and learn how to "work" a runway! My dress, a modern take on the traditional Indian wedding dress, proved to be a big hit. Following a successful strut up and down without any hints of a trip, I was photographed by a number of newspapers and approached by another paper asking for details on how to book me for a future shoot! "I'm not actually a model" was lost in translation so I just gave him my details. Who knows, maybe a career in Indian fashion may still be possible?!
Pancake Day and Ash Wednesday fell in the following week. Depleted in volunteer numbers due to the others little trip to the Andaman Islands, Jemima and I were left to fry up 200+ pancakes for the borders. This included collecting the various ingredients and
negotiating a good price. The many years spent with Daddy Suddaby in the markets of Turkey and Tunisia kicked in and we haggled like mad. We still probably got ripped off but when an egg cost the equivalent of 4p, I think we're still winning. After a little tuition on how to build the perfect combination, the American style pancakes topped with sugar, banana and lemon (the latter being a real treat for the kids) went down a storm. We were both pretty sick of the sight of the doughy disks by the time we reached home.
Ash Wednesday has never been particularly monumental in my life except marking the start of the 46 day period during which I test my mental self control and remove all chocolate, sweets, biscuits, cakes, crisps etc. from my diet. This year we decided to return to John at St John's and attend the church service. Although initially late, our group of 5 Gora girls doubled the size of the congregation so were welcomed with open arms. Some fantastic singing followed, warbling more than a gaggle of Griffin siblings at Church. We left the church with a newly tattooed black ash cross on our forehead. Subtle.
My penultimate weekend at Future Hope was going to take me to Varanasi, the spiritual home of India. The realisation of how little time I have got has set in and I began to wish I hadn't left it so late to visit. Following a full on week with exams, tuition and (of course) pancakes, we were looking forward to a weekend away. We left about an hour to get to the station, apparently not long enough. A local friend had offered to drive us to the station. Unfortunately a few wrong turns, heavy traffic and bad GPS meant we arrived t Howrah at 8:01pm. Our train left at 8pm. Optimistically we sprinted between the stations; confusingly there are 2 at Howrah. Frantic directions later we reached the platform to see the headlights of the Vibhuti Express pulling out of the station. We attempted a heroic sprint after the train but were stopped by the police. Tails between our legs, the three sprinting polgi Goras (crazy whities) walked back to the entrance. Maybe this is why Indians arrive one hour before the train departs?
Still, I can make the most of another weekend in Kolkata. Another modelling job is available and there are a lot of kids looking for distractions. In this next week we plan to organise an Old English sports day, a school disco and celebrate the much talked about Holi festival - the famous festival seeing Hindus dress all in white and throw multicoloured powder over one another.
Jemima and I ventured off to some of the tourist sights, taking in the crammed flower market on the banks of the Hoogli river. In amongst the beautiful sights and smells created by the flowers, the river itself is a swelling flow of sewage and waste, quite a revolting scene.
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| Some of the hundreds of stalls at the market |
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| Flowers from the market |
We also called in at the colonial General Post Office and the historic St John's church. At the latter, we made two marvellous discoveries: the first was a potential ancestor of mine ascending up the Griffin side of my gene pool; the second was "John" of St John's - the quirky, eccentric, hair-in-dreadlocks, broken-hipped organist of the church. He gave us the grand tour as we were "friends of the lovely Charlotte", which included a personal performance of Auld Lang Sine and Pink Floyd on the organ.
 |
| The one and only John of St John's |
Sunday saw the continuation of my career along the Indian red carpet. The previous week I found myself at the Bengal Fashion Week, sitting front row on the final showcase! We even got free chocolates thanks to our seats. While at the show I bumped into a man, Prasanta, who once represented India in an International darts tournament held in none other than Bridlington, Yorkshire. After a bit of white rose bonding, he invited me to join him at the Kolkata Fashion Show the following weekend. This invitation turned into a request for me to walk in the show. Although initially sceptical, encouragement from the other volunteers saw me throw on a pair of high heels and learn how to "work" a runway! My dress, a modern take on the traditional Indian wedding dress, proved to be a big hit. Following a successful strut up and down without any hints of a trip, I was photographed by a number of newspapers and approached by another paper asking for details on how to book me for a future shoot! "I'm not actually a model" was lost in translation so I just gave him my details. Who knows, maybe a career in Indian fashion may still be possible?!
 |
| Backstage at the Fashion show. Me on the left and Prasnta in the middle. |
Pancake Day and Ash Wednesday fell in the following week. Depleted in volunteer numbers due to the others little trip to the Andaman Islands, Jemima and I were left to fry up 200+ pancakes for the borders. This included collecting the various ingredients and
negotiating a good price. The many years spent with Daddy Suddaby in the markets of Turkey and Tunisia kicked in and we haggled like mad. We still probably got ripped off but when an egg cost the equivalent of 4p, I think we're still winning. After a little tuition on how to build the perfect combination, the American style pancakes topped with sugar, banana and lemon (the latter being a real treat for the kids) went down a storm. We were both pretty sick of the sight of the doughy disks by the time we reached home.
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| Mass production of Pancakes |
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| Ballygunge enjoying the tasty treats |
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| Ash Wednesday Service with (R to L) Georgie, Jemima, Me, Jess and Jess's friend. |
Still, I can make the most of another weekend in Kolkata. Another modelling job is available and there are a lot of kids looking for distractions. In this next week we plan to organise an Old English sports day, a school disco and celebrate the much talked about Holi festival - the famous festival seeing Hindus dress all in white and throw multicoloured powder over one another.
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