An easier approach? - Basic English revisited
Ian Paul (English Language Centre, York)
Earlier last century, attempts were made to simplify English and produce a basic vocabulary. The most famous of these attempts were 'Basic English' and the closely allied 'General Service List'.
This poster argues the rationale for devising a modern, 21st Century replacement for the list. The many sound reasons, pedagogical and commercial, for adopting such a move will be illustrated.
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Monday, 1 March 2010
The Decision - Please comment on this, I value your opinions.
Here it is - my final assessed creative writing exercise. Please let me know what you think of it. Don't hold back, I have broad shoulders.
Francesca Peterson was thirty-eight years old the day she made her decision. Thirty-eight years of life, and now, a day to change all that had gone before. All the heartache, so many broken hearts along the way. The debt; credit really had been much too easy to obtain. The daily drudgery that was her work, so many wrong decisions taken there too. Today would change all that.
She had thought about this day for a considerable time now, how she would feel, would it hurt? At last, on the bridge now, she looked down to the water, slowly churning its way to the sea; a pretty blue, almost like duck eggs; glacial melt-water she presumed. Would she feel the cold? Would other thoughts steal her mind? Soon she’d find out.
The bridge was high, a wonder of engineering; a product of that wandering band of technical superiority the Scottish civil engineer. It had been built one hundred and twenty-five years ago to span a gorge. The bridge was of the suspension variety, fairly elegant as far as bridges go; the institutional green paint, so different a shade to the surrounding foliage, provided a visual contrast to the blue water below, so far below.
Francesca knew that soon, very soon, she’d have to take her decision. A myriad of thoughts coursed through her brain, would her bra keep her modesty? She wanted to be decent, afterwards – when they fished her out of that cold, blue water so far below. It really was a long way down, she panicked.
She had always been scared, to the point of phobia, of height. She had joked with friends it wasn’t so much the falling that frightened her, rather the landing. She’d find out now how landings felt. Or here, high above the water, should it be waterings? Would the shock of impact kill her, would it be by drowning? Maybe she’d be dead from shock, long before she hit that cold, oh so blue water. She thought of the word ‘long’. She was conscious of using it - ‘long before’. How long? She tried to recall physics lessons, what was the velocity, or was it acceleration, of a falling body? Francesca realized she had no idea of even where to start to calculate how ‘long’ before she hit the icy, churning water below. She added yet another shortcoming to her life of dissatisfaction.
She didn’t know why she had chosen to jump; she only knew it had to be this bridge, this elegant, old bridge: above this particular, cold, blue ribbon of meandering melt-water in this particular gorge. She thought it was as pretty a place as any to do it.
She thought of her mother, far away in England, what would she say if she could see her only child perched high above the water waiting to jump? She wished her mother was there, to hold onto, to comfort her. Had mum ever thought of doing this, she mused, would she support me in my decision or try and talk me out of it?
Then it was time; time to jump. It was easier than she had imagined, just a gentle rolling forward on the balls of her feet, too late for any more thoughts; it was done. Francesca Peterson jumped off the Kawerau Bridge, New Zealand, home of the bungee jump.
Francesca Peterson was thirty-eight years old the day she made her decision. Thirty-eight years of life, and now, a day to change all that had gone before. All the heartache, so many broken hearts along the way. The debt; credit really had been much too easy to obtain. The daily drudgery that was her work, so many wrong decisions taken there too. Today would change all that.
She had thought about this day for a considerable time now, how she would feel, would it hurt? At last, on the bridge now, she looked down to the water, slowly churning its way to the sea; a pretty blue, almost like duck eggs; glacial melt-water she presumed. Would she feel the cold? Would other thoughts steal her mind? Soon she’d find out.
The bridge was high, a wonder of engineering; a product of that wandering band of technical superiority the Scottish civil engineer. It had been built one hundred and twenty-five years ago to span a gorge. The bridge was of the suspension variety, fairly elegant as far as bridges go; the institutional green paint, so different a shade to the surrounding foliage, provided a visual contrast to the blue water below, so far below.
Francesca knew that soon, very soon, she’d have to take her decision. A myriad of thoughts coursed through her brain, would her bra keep her modesty? She wanted to be decent, afterwards – when they fished her out of that cold, blue water so far below. It really was a long way down, she panicked.
She had always been scared, to the point of phobia, of height. She had joked with friends it wasn’t so much the falling that frightened her, rather the landing. She’d find out now how landings felt. Or here, high above the water, should it be waterings? Would the shock of impact kill her, would it be by drowning? Maybe she’d be dead from shock, long before she hit that cold, oh so blue water. She thought of the word ‘long’. She was conscious of using it - ‘long before’. How long? She tried to recall physics lessons, what was the velocity, or was it acceleration, of a falling body? Francesca realized she had no idea of even where to start to calculate how ‘long’ before she hit the icy, churning water below. She added yet another shortcoming to her life of dissatisfaction.
She didn’t know why she had chosen to jump; she only knew it had to be this bridge, this elegant, old bridge: above this particular, cold, blue ribbon of meandering melt-water in this particular gorge. She thought it was as pretty a place as any to do it.
She thought of her mother, far away in England, what would she say if she could see her only child perched high above the water waiting to jump? She wished her mother was there, to hold onto, to comfort her. Had mum ever thought of doing this, she mused, would she support me in my decision or try and talk me out of it?
Then it was time; time to jump. It was easier than she had imagined, just a gentle rolling forward on the balls of her feet, too late for any more thoughts; it was done. Francesca Peterson jumped off the Kawerau Bridge, New Zealand, home of the bungee jump.
Friday, 19 February 2010
Appeal for Sponsorship - however little - it will all help
My daughter will be baking cakes and biscuits to raise money for her dad's efforts. Please make a donation, however small, via the secure website below:
http://www.mysportrelief.com/ianpaul
Thank You
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
Suburban Dawn
Here's a little bit of creative writing I wrote for a course in 2008. I may work it up into a fuller story one of these days.
It was another seemingly ordinary day at the station; Cyril had just brought me my second coffee of the day. I had a belter of a hangover, a real humdinger, far too many beers in the police club the previous night. Then a call was put through to me, I didn’t recognise the voice at first but she knew me; that much was obvious. I listened with the detachment of what I was that morning, a jaded, hung-over copper. Then she told me about the scream she’d heard just before dawn; that stung me out of torpor. I noted down her address and got the flash of gestalt, of course, I knew her now. She was a woman I’d taken back to her house for a drunken night of debauchery about two years ago. She’d obviously quite liked the experience, left me messages for a few days; I never returned them. Move on, plenty more fish in the pond, I say.
About twenty minutes later Cyril and I drew up the car outside her house. It was an ordinary house and the neighbours’ houses looked no different, scores of nondescript suburban dwellings; ‘little houses made of ticky tacky, and they all look just the same’, swam into my head. I rang the bell of my one-night-stand and she opened it quickly and ushered us in. Cyril had been moaning about another domestic violence case in the offing; I was unconvinced, too early in the day or too late at night. Peak time for domestics is two in the morning. Lynne, my old conquest’s name, told us about her neighbour, early forties, single, kept himself to himself, no obvious female presence in his life, creepy she described him as. I smiled wryly at Cyril, no domestic this one.
Lynne told us what she’d heard earlier that morning, up at that hour to go to the khazi. Just as she was returning to her bed she’d heard a really desperate, howling scream that went on for about ten seconds, then nothing. She’d been shocked at first but as it didn’t continue, went back to bed. In the morning she looked out of the window and saw her neighbour leaving with a small suitcase, a taxi idling at the end of his drive. She pondered why he wasn’t taking his car and then phoned us a few minutes later, asking to speak to me as I was the only detective she knew.
It was another seemingly ordinary day at the station; Cyril had just brought me my second coffee of the day. I had a belter of a hangover, a real humdinger, far too many beers in the police club the previous night. Then a call was put through to me, I didn’t recognise the voice at first but she knew me; that much was obvious. I listened with the detachment of what I was that morning, a jaded, hung-over copper. Then she told me about the scream she’d heard just before dawn; that stung me out of torpor. I noted down her address and got the flash of gestalt, of course, I knew her now. She was a woman I’d taken back to her house for a drunken night of debauchery about two years ago. She’d obviously quite liked the experience, left me messages for a few days; I never returned them. Move on, plenty more fish in the pond, I say.
About twenty minutes later Cyril and I drew up the car outside her house. It was an ordinary house and the neighbours’ houses looked no different, scores of nondescript suburban dwellings; ‘little houses made of ticky tacky, and they all look just the same’, swam into my head. I rang the bell of my one-night-stand and she opened it quickly and ushered us in. Cyril had been moaning about another domestic violence case in the offing; I was unconvinced, too early in the day or too late at night. Peak time for domestics is two in the morning. Lynne, my old conquest’s name, told us about her neighbour, early forties, single, kept himself to himself, no obvious female presence in his life, creepy she described him as. I smiled wryly at Cyril, no domestic this one.
Lynne told us what she’d heard earlier that morning, up at that hour to go to the khazi. Just as she was returning to her bed she’d heard a really desperate, howling scream that went on for about ten seconds, then nothing. She’d been shocked at first but as it didn’t continue, went back to bed. In the morning she looked out of the window and saw her neighbour leaving with a small suitcase, a taxi idling at the end of his drive. She pondered why he wasn’t taking his car and then phoned us a few minutes later, asking to speak to me as I was the only detective she knew.
Saturday, 23 January 2010
Flying doctors - nearly
Given those figures it makes sense that to get medical aid to a vehicle accident victim, a bicycle will probably be the quickest way. A great many hold-ups are accident linked anyway, so even more reason to use a bike to gain those vital few minutes that might make all the difference.
I for one applaud the introduction and will sleep sounder knowing that a fellow cyclist may one day come to my aid.
Saturday, 2 January 2010
The adaptability of humanity
Even dad had fun - no cycling but sledges can be exciting too.
The sledge cost ten pounds - best tenner I've spent all year!
Thursday, 31 December 2009
Sushi making - a great way to spend time with your loved ones
There had to be an answer that would assuage my longing for unagi (smoked eel) and ebi (prawn) on delicious vinagared rice with a garnish of nori (seaweed). As so many other things in life the answer is in your own hands. Do it yourself, hmm, DIY Sushi? I'd heard that sushi chefs take years to become fully trained and the best Japanese chefs command huge salaries. Well, I may have a long way to go before being hired by a Tokyo sushi house, but I'm pleased with my efforts so far. The best thing about DIY sushi though is the fun you can have making it with your family.
We kitted ourselves out from Tesco, Sainsbury's and added a few authentic plates and sets of chopsticks from Thailand and Japan. We managed to get Japanese curry, rice, flavouring, ginger, seaweed, wasabi and miso soup from the supermarkets and supplemented a Thai sushi rolling mat with an imported Japanese one from the same source. All set to go, but how to turn all these high quality ingredients into a reasonable copy of the genuine article? I wanted curry and ebi tempura with a selection of sushi and sashimi and, of course, wasabi. Not as strange as it sounds, just think lightly smoked salmon with horseradish.
Here are the results:-
Sunday, 6 December 2009
IATEFL conference in Harrogate April 2010
Some weeks ago I made a list of things I'd like to achieve in what is left of my life. At number 3 on that list was the wish to present at an international English language teaching conference. Such a conference will take place at Harrogate, about 20 miles from York, in April next year. The International Association of Teachers of English as a Foreign Language (IATEFL) annual conference. I was bold enough to send in a proposal during September, and it has just been accepted as a poster presentation. The subject is the case for teaching only a basic version of English - English Lite if you will. The intention being that students could learn to communicate quicker and have no need for such complications as idioms or question tags. I'll post the abstract here later this week.
I presented an earlier version of my work at ThaiTESOL in Khon Kaen, Thailand in 2005 and again at Thammasat University in Bangkok later that year. People either agreed with or dismissed the ideas - no fence sitters.
I'm nervous already, IATEFL is the big one - what have I done?
I presented an earlier version of my work at ThaiTESOL in Khon Kaen, Thailand in 2005 and again at Thammasat University in Bangkok later that year. People either agreed with or dismissed the ideas - no fence sitters.
I'm nervous already, IATEFL is the big one - what have I done?
Sunday, 29 November 2009
A link to a petition all UK based EFL teachers should sign
Following on from my letter to my MP I would urge all EFL teachers to consider signing this petition. It is an attempt to draw MPs, and in particular PM Brown's, attention towards the consequences of raising the bar on English levels for Non-EU students intending to study in the UK.
Please take a look and, hopefully, spend a few moments registering your support.
Thanks - Ian
http://petitions.number10.gov.uk/PBSReview/
Please take a look and, hopefully, spend a few moments registering your support.
Thanks - Ian
http://petitions.number10.gov.uk/PBSReview/
Monday, 23 November 2009
More UK visa nonsense - this time for students.
I always wanted to write to an MP - this is what I wrote to Hugh Bayley (Labour MP for York) yesterday.
As an ex-employee of the British Council (Thailand) now working in York at the English Language Centre I am concerned by the present government's alarming anouncements regarding further student visa regulation tightening. I hope it is just sabre rattling, but fear Mr Brown is attempting to win the BNP deserters back into the Labour fold and may actually try to make them happen!.
While working for the British Council, a UK government funded organisation under the directorship of Neil Kinnock, I was always given to understand that the idea was to attract as many students to the UK as possible. The reasons were manifold but can be summed up briefly: foreign students equal cash for the UK via:- tuition fees, VAT and other taxes paid by the students, text books sales - largely UK publishing houses, use of British made products in the students' fields of study fostering a familiarity and trust of that product therefore lifelong trade with the UK, accomodation fees paid to UK citizens, etc, etc.
Non-EU nationals are now about to be squeezed again and made to jump through more UKBA hoops. This will drive prospective students to other English speaking nations offering less stringent visa conditions.
For example; an uplift in required level of English before being accepted for a study visa is ridiculous - surely the students want to study here in order to become proficient at English.
I implore you to bring the utmost pressure to bear on Mr Brown to abandon these ill thought through ideas. Liase with the right honourable Mr Kinnock and get his angle on attracting foreign students.
There must be hundreds and possibly thousands of your constituents who would be directly affected by such measures, and many more indirectly. Look at the language schools, universities, landlords, shopkeepers etc. in York who rely on foreign students for all or some of their livelihood.
As an ex-employee of the British Council (Thailand) now working in York at the English Language Centre I am concerned by the present government's alarming anouncements regarding further student visa regulation tightening. I hope it is just sabre rattling, but fear Mr Brown is attempting to win the BNP deserters back into the Labour fold and may actually try to make them happen!.
While working for the British Council, a UK government funded organisation under the directorship of Neil Kinnock, I was always given to understand that the idea was to attract as many students to the UK as possible. The reasons were manifold but can be summed up briefly: foreign students equal cash for the UK via:- tuition fees, VAT and other taxes paid by the students, text books sales - largely UK publishing houses, use of British made products in the students' fields of study fostering a familiarity and trust of that product therefore lifelong trade with the UK, accomodation fees paid to UK citizens, etc, etc.
Non-EU nationals are now about to be squeezed again and made to jump through more UKBA hoops. This will drive prospective students to other English speaking nations offering less stringent visa conditions.
For example; an uplift in required level of English before being accepted for a study visa is ridiculous - surely the students want to study here in order to become proficient at English.
I implore you to bring the utmost pressure to bear on Mr Brown to abandon these ill thought through ideas. Liase with the right honourable Mr Kinnock and get his angle on attracting foreign students.
There must be hundreds and possibly thousands of your constituents who would be directly affected by such measures, and many more indirectly. Look at the language schools, universities, landlords, shopkeepers etc. in York who rely on foreign students for all or some of their livelihood.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Oxford University Course
So, what is this course about? It's entitled Effective Online Tutoring. So far it looks great, based around Moodle; explore the link below if you'd like to know more about what that is. It uses blogs, wikis, VLEs (there's another one), and all manner of e-learning type tools. I figured it was time to update my knowledge in this area as the future is definitely along this path. Who knows, if I enjoy it I may pursue some postgraduate modules in e-learning. I've taken a peek at some blogs written by one of my old colleagues from the British Council and the content of these e-learning degrees interests me greatly.
The best thing about this course though, is that the certificate will be in my name but the invoice will be in my employer's name.
Here is a link to the Moodle website
Sunday, 18 October 2009
Season of mellow fruitfulness
Air battle of the gulf states
Well, I'm writing this on a brand new Acer Timeline Laptop, bought with the remaining difference. As I say airline pricing is a black art to me.
Thursday, 1 October 2009
Visa at last!!
After months of waiting, my wife now has a settlement visa for the UK. She can now get on with life in the UK. The last few weeks have seen the whole family in limbo; not able to get on with anything. Now she can apply for a national insurance number, apply for further education courses, etc.; in other words - get on with life.
I appreciate that the new stringent regulations are to protect the country from 'undesirables', but the vast majority of applicants, particularly those asking for spouse visas, are not exactly high risk. You and I can see this, why can't the immigration authorities?
I appreciate that the new stringent regulations are to protect the country from 'undesirables', but the vast majority of applicants, particularly those asking for spouse visas, are not exactly high risk. You and I can see this, why can't the immigration authorities?
Monday, 28 September 2009
Back to Bangkok
Eight months, almost to the day, since leaving Thailand I landed here again yesterday. I flew by my usual airline - Emirates. Happy that they now allow 30 kgs. of baggage per passenger because I was carrying a lot of brochures and promotional material. I'm spending two weeks holiday with the family then a further week in the land of smiles promoting my school in York. I will be presenting the school to agents in Thailand and my wife will provide the Thai input for those agents with poorer English skills.
I have a few things lined up to do that I never got around to in my ten years here. A bicycle tour of the lesser known parts of Bangkok using the longtail boats as well as roads and paths. I'm looking forward to this a lot especially as the weather is not too hot at the moment.
I always wanted to eat a meal in the revolving restaurant in the Baiyoke Tower, Bangkok's highest building. This too is going to become a reality. I'm hoping for some good photos looking out over the city.
Photos as and when I see some interesting subjects.
I have a few things lined up to do that I never got around to in my ten years here. A bicycle tour of the lesser known parts of Bangkok using the longtail boats as well as roads and paths. I'm looking forward to this a lot especially as the weather is not too hot at the moment.
I always wanted to eat a meal in the revolving restaurant in the Baiyoke Tower, Bangkok's highest building. This too is going to become a reality. I'm hoping for some good photos looking out over the city.
Photos as and when I see some interesting subjects.
Sunday, 20 September 2009
A 'to do' list with a difference
I have decided to make an abridged 101 things you must do before you die type of 'to do' list. I am being sensible and only adding items that I can afford to do, in terms of both time and money.
So here is the list, in no particular order:
1) Learn to fly a powered light aircraft
2) Write a short story and have it published in a magazine
2) Write a short story and have it published in a magazine
3) Present a paper at a truly international conference
4) Learn to ride a unicycle5) Teach my daughters to use a map and compass
6) Make my own cider
7) Plant a small woodland
8) Sponsor a micro solar/hydro project in a developing country
11) Find a Victorian bicycle (boneshaker or penny-farthing) to restore which costs less than a small house.
12) Climb all 217 mountains and fells on A.W. Wainwright's list
13) Fly in a hot-air balloon
14) Learn to paint with the set of acrylics my mother bought me 5 years ago
15) Find something of value with a metal detector
13) Fly in a hot-air balloon
14) Learn to paint with the set of acrylics my mother bought me 5 years ago
15) Find something of value with a metal detector
As these things get 'ticked off' or added to, so the list will change. I'm hoping it will give my life some focus as I feel the last 10 years in Thailand flew by with indecent speed. A sign of increasing age I fear.
Saturday, 19 September 2009
Flying to toyland - (again!)
Having lived for the last few months in England on a tourist visa and quite liking the UK experience she decided to make the move more permanent. With this in mind she has applied for a visa granting leave to remain in the UK. They have been back in Thailand since July. To quote a line from 'Casablanca' - they wait, and wait, and wait. An appropriate quote because the speaker is describing people who need visas for America in Casablanca during the war and the difficulty of obtaining them.
It seems incredibly difficult to get a settlement visa for the UK. let's look at the situation: married to a British citizen for almost 10 years, mother of two British citizens, registered at the consular section in Bangkok, as indeed was the marriage. Educational qualifications include a BSc and an MBA. Some of the interview questions included "Have you any evidence that this is a long term relationship?"
The cost of this visa? 800 pounds - yes!! EIGHT HUNDRED POUNDS. The waiting time? "for your benefit and convenience", about 16 weeks.
They wait, and wait, and wait...
Friday, 18 September 2009
Laws of Physics Revision
Fitting took all of two minutes and off I pedalled; what's this, a rougue unit? The direction indicator slew wildly from North to South, at times inexplicably spinning - directionless - like a dog in a butcher's shop.
I should explain at this point that my trusty steed is a classic British roadster, a Humber Sovereign dating from 1951/1952. A distinguished looking upright bicycle, much more suited to York commuting than a day-glo mountain bike.
It differs from a mountain bike in so many ways. 25 fewer gears, classic black enamel, 1950s brakes. It has drawbacks I'll admit but the practicalities of it outweigh the shortfalls. I wouldn't swap it for the daily commute, perhaps at the weekend, but don't let her know.
Back to my problem, why does the compass refuse to settle down and direct me? One word will instantly strike chords with the more scientific of you: aluminium! Modern bikes are mostly constructed of aluminium, a non-magnetic material which does not attract magnetic things like compass needles. My bike is made of good sturdy British steel. Oh well, anyone like to buy a classic black, combination bell-compass?
Sunday, 13 September 2009
Industrial chic
Saturday, 12 September 2009
Birds in the garden
I'm writing this on a Saturday morning while looking out into my garden. My garden is in a suburb of York, England. I'm watching a bird feeding station I recently set up for the education and pleasure of my children. I am amazed at the variety of species that feed here. So far I have seen the following birds:
Robin, blackbird, thrush, starling, blue tit, coal tit, great tit, house sparrow, hedge sparrow, lesser-spotted woodpecker, magpie, collared dove, wood pigeon, wren, greenfinch, wheatear.
17 species, not a bad result for a garden. However the eighteenth and latest species witnessed this morning at about 6.55 a.m. simply took my breath away. A sparrowhawk! She, for it was a female, struck silently and efficiently in the garden, over in seconds, but we now have one less house sparrow to visit us.
I've seen golden eagles close up in Scotland. I was walking up a Munro in Glen Lyon just approaching the ridge while a Golden Eagle was using the updraught on the opposite side of the mountain to ascend, we met, eye-to-eye at the sharp edge of the ridge with perfect timing. I don't know which creature was most surprised, the eagle dropped some superfluous weight, as indeed I nearly did, and looped back into the wind and away.
This morning's episode was even more shocking however, in part due to the brutality of the kill; a set of talons through the throat. The speed of the whole affair was, and I shall use a word which is beginning to lose its power but is the only word I can use for the scenario - awesome. Nature at its most brutal, life goes on and all that, but this kill left a deep impression on me. Efficient, mercifully quick, but so damn fast!
Isn't nature wonderful? - scary but wonderful.
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