simonjohnstone

From left: Alan Black, Chris Dunabin, Simon Johnstone, Heather Barton, Julian Stubbs and Nigel Thomas taken as part of a year-end Balliol photograph in the summer of 1971.

As an exact contemporary of Simon at Balliol, I well remember him, as described by Richard Heller, and indeed was a minor contributor to some of those events remembered where he so ably starred. I first met him on one of our first evenings in college, where we sat round his depressingly modern room (as soon as he could he moved to a more expressive college room) drinking (so no changes there), and wondering what this University life might turn out to be like. He immediately struck me, and all those who met him, as someone to be with, and the attached photograph (apologies for blurring) was taken as part of a year-end Balliol photograph in the summer of 1971. Simon was my best man, in 1981, when I finally married Heather, and he and Chris moved to London to live (in Neasden no less) when he was studying there.

When we were in London I well recall the eventful Christmas when he decided to cook us all goose, in our rented house in Chelsea , but wholly underestimated the amount of fat that would be given off, leaving our kitchen floor swimming in it. The fact that our guests were four hours late, and the goose ended up the size of a small chicken, may have contributed to the problem.

Although Heather and I saw him a few times after he moved to China, for instance for our wedding, when he both surprised our elderly guests and relatives by his flamboyance, but also, of course, wholly charmed them, we dropped out of contact with him once he moved from China, and have only now caught up with his life in the saddest way.

Ave atque vale

Julian Stubbs

Just heard through friend, with great sorrow, of Simon's death. I knew him well at his Oxford College, Balliol, of which he was one of the most creative and sparkling personalities. He was especially a star, as both performer and writer, in Balliol's well-established satirical theatre (one pantomime, one "smoker", one theatrical tour with satirical topical play each year) as well as Balliol's Victorian Society, which performed music hall and cabaret standards. It lapsed regularly into the 1920s and 1930s, which allowed Simon to perform his unique version of Noel Coward's "Mad About the Boy".

A memorable Simon Johnstone lyric (for chorus in touring play): "We're francais, We're ponce-ay, We do a little dansez-dansez, Our agent's on the phone."

A memorable Simon Johnstone exchange in Junior Common Room.
SJ: Half an hour to dinner. Just enough time to write a poem. Excuse me, while I go and dress."

Stooge: "Dress for dinner?"

SJ (con molto espressione): "For PO-ETRY!"


Richard Heller

I'd just like to correct some misconceptions about Simon's linguistic abilities for the benefit of non-linguists.

Some people have said he spoke 6 or 7 languages. Simon was in fact a embodiment of Noam Chomsky's Universal Grammar; that is, informed by linguistic theory, his innate genius and prodigious memory, he could acquire any language very easily. Simon could have set up shop in Ougadougou or Tahiti, and been getting on famously with the locals from Day 1, so the number of languages he spoke passably was actually far in excess of a mere 6 or 7 - my own estimate would be nearer 50.

Linguists like to talk of language families, and Simon thrived on the familiy resemblances - indeed, he was a devoted scholar of historical language reconstruction, the analysis of daughter languages to arrive at a primordial parent. The languages he was famous for, such as Chinese, were those in which he had delved deep into history and literature. And for the record, his Thai was very competent.

Martin Clutterbuck

I met Simon in 1970. We were in Schwäbisch Hall at the Goethe Institute learning German. I discovered he had just switched from Greats at Oxford to Classical Chinese and was being given tutorials by David Hawkes, the fantastic translator of "The Story of the Stone" (or "The Dream of Red Chambers", as it may be better known to some). We spent two months together every day mostly fooling around with languages but getting into a bit of trouble from time to time. He went back to Balliol and I stayed and worked in Germany.

We had a very friendly competition about languages and would often sit in a cafe far enough away from people that we could not hear them. 'What language?' one of us would ask the other. 'Well, there is a lot of puckering, so I suspect they are French.' 'Yes, could be. I agree. What about them?' This game would go on until one of us would have to think of an excuse to walk near the table to confirm.

Our abilities were rather different. Simon was terrific at following a book. I less so. I had done (and would do later) more 'serious' acting than Simon, but he had a terrific ear. I am a mimic. I am fairly good at saying something if a native speaker says it first. Simon was usually - but not always - spot on just by reading the phonetic description. Neither one of us really sat down for any length of time to 'master' anything, although I think Chinese was one of the few both of us spent more time on. While he lived in Beijing all those years, I was in Japan. My Chinese was not up to his until I moved to Hong Kong (17 years ago) and went up to Beijing often. I did trump him in that I knew Japanese and we were going to have a lot of fun with that when we caught up. That never happened, of course.

My interests in China had always been rather different from his and I was completely obsessed with the work of Joseph Needham and his "Science and Civilisation in China". I applied to the Cambridge College he was master of and on my visit for my interview - I was still living in Germany - I stayed with Simon for a month at Balliol. During my final year, 1976, Simon came up after term and stayed with me at Cambridge for a few days. I had already accepted something in Japan (getting to China in those days was very difficult). So, I met him in Germany, stayed with him at Oxford and he stayed with me at Cambridge. That's it. Those three times are the only times we were together.

About two years ago, a Scotsman who was a sub at the South China Morning Post said to me: 'You know, you remind me a friend of mine in Bangkok when I worked at the Nation. He did Chinese at Cambridge in the '70s and was always carrying around a book on some obscure language.' I said, 'Really? Cambridge, 1970s? Do you remember his name? I know almost everybody who studied Chinese then.' He said, 'I don't remember his name. Could have begun with an 'S'. He was a bit chubby with long hair and a beard.' I said, 'No! Are you sure he wasn't at Oxford?' 'Oxford, Cambridge, what the hell's the difference?' I said, 'Well, if the person you are referring to is Simon Johnstone then he did Chinese at Oxford and is one of my best mates in the world. I haven't been in touch with him for over 30 years!'

After that, I went onto the Nation's website and found him. It was a marvellous reunion. I have 23 email messages from him from that moment until January of this year. We discussed a number of things and the one thing I had done over the years that he hadn't - and it did not surprise me in the least that he had not - was learn about computers. I had in fact become a programmer and later a technology writer for the SCMP. I really 'got into IT'. I was going to help him with his book and other things. We were discussing ways of handling the odd characters and fonts that he would need. We were trying to plan a way to get together (neither one of us has ever had much money - big surprise, that, eh?)

And that, as they say, is that. I have two more amusing stories (well, they would be very amusing to Simon and me: I can't say for others!)

Simon told me a joke back in those days in Germany. He and I thought it was hysterically funny. So far as I know, nobody we have ever told the joke to has agreed with us. Here it is: Two French grammarians spent their entire lives arguing over the verb 'aller'. One said: "It's 'Je m'en vais' [I'm going, standard in French today.] The other said: 'Non! Pas de tous. It should be Je m'en vas' [Possibly an older French version of the same thing.] They argued for years. Then, after many arguments and a great deal of time, one of the grammarians lay on his death bed. He looked at his friend and said: 'Alors, je m'en vais. Eh? Ou je m'en vas?' His friend looked down and said: 'Eh, alors. Tu t'en vas!' "

(Simon and I loved that joke. I have no idea if anyone else would. I wanted to send him that message but by the time Ronan had found me, it was too late.)

One other quickie. Simon had a terrific advantage over many because he was expert at Greek and Latin. He won contests for the pronunciation of both. (I remember him reading aloud a Latin text and in the middle of the first sentence, he said: 'Stupid me! This is papal Latin.' He then stopped pronouncing it in Roman Latin and continued with Papal, making it sound almost like Italian.) He did not really speak Modern Greek, but he knew the linguistic and phonetic differences that had occurred over the years. He could understand a great deal of Modern Greek. One day he said to me: 'Tha pao ekie pu ovasilefs pai mono.' To which I said, 'Yes? That would be what, exactly?' Simon smiled and stood up. It means: 'I wish to go where the King goes alone!' It's Modern Greek. I said: 'The loo's over there.'

Three years ago, I was sent to Chicago by Philips. We looked at a lot of medical equipment and saw some of their spectacular labs. At one, the guide had a very obvious Greek name. I asked. He said, yes, he had been in the US for many years but he was born in Athens. I said: 'Tha pao ekie pu ovasilefs pai mono.' He said, it's just down there. Then he realised what had happened and his jaw dropped. How did you know that? I said, 'A very good friend of mine taught me. It seems to have worked!'

Danyll Wills

I met Simon in Bangkok in 1995 or so, while visiting my friend David Byrne and his wife Corrine, with whom Simon was sharing living quarters. Our acquaintance was fleeting, but had a lasting effect on my life.

One evening on Sukhumvit Road, not long into the visit, with the beer flowing freely, Simon, for reasons lost in the moment, began to belt out the Orthodox Christian mass, in Old Church Slavonic of course. I don't think I had heard it since I was 6 years old, but it brought back a flood of memories. As a child I hadn't cared for the ritual, the foreignness of grownups acting weirdly, the chanting and incense. But hearing it in a sweltering Bangkok soi touched a nerve. It reminded me of where I came from, my Slavic roots, and I had a sudden urge to hear it again.

I didn't return to the church, but its music did come back to me and is now a link restored in the chain of my being.

Bryan Demchinsky

Holger and Simon



Simon, Iris and Holger



Holger, Simon, Jim, Nat and Colleen

Like most people writing here I met Simon over a few bottles of beer – well quite a lot of bottles actually. I was a young student at the Beijing Yuyan Xueyuan, which was only a few miles from the Friendship Hotel – the Youyi BinGuan. I was only 20 at the time and Simon must have been in his early thirties. I was just beginning my Chinese studies and Simon was a master and spoke the language perfectly – as well as German, French, Russian, Arabic and I am sure a few more. He started his teaching job during the fall of 1981. I remember he came out on a three-month contract and lost his heart to Beijing or the Youyi BinGuan or both. So he went back to England to get his stuff and returned to become a "foreign expert" as they were called in those days. Simon immediately became the king of that scene - nobody could outwit him, outdrink him or out-Chinese him - and those were the elements of that group at that time - not necessarily in that order though.

I always thought of Simon as an “ocean of wisdom” – the stuff he knew! And the amount of beer he could drink! It was always a pleasure to sit with Simon in the bar of the Youyi as we called it back then, smoking and talking and drinking and smoking and talking seemingly forever. The conversations never stopped and continued to be interesting, witty, enlightening, and were just such a pleasure.

I learned a lot of Chinese from Simon. He knew the street lingo of Beijing better than anyone, so the fact that I still speak a passable Chinese I often attribute to Simon. At the same time he was a true friend. I remember when I wanted to know about classical Chinese, Simon said “Why don’t you buy a book and then I will teach you." We met once a week that winter in the lobby of the Beijing Hotel – and Simon went through the basics of the structure of classical Chinese grammar and we read some pieces – and most amazingly – during lessons we drank only water. Once we were finished though, we headed for the wonderful green bottles of QingDao PiJiu.

Simon was the social glue of the Youyi scene during those years. People, who would have a hard time keeping a conversation going between themselves, immediately lit up when Simon appeared because they knew he would save them. Without trying to grab attention, but just being his kind, witty, mischievous self, he would immediately calm everyone down and make the conversation so much more interesting, helping it flow so much easier.

His capacity for knowledge and for beer seemed to be boundless. I remember coming into the bar one afternoon and finding Simon alone reading a book – I ordered some beer and sat down and asked Simon what he was reading – it turned out to be poems by Horace in Latin that he was just leasurely going through. Made me think of my struggles in understanding just one of those poems in high school.

And the parties in his apartment. (Number 81623 - I still remember the number in Chinese: ba-yao-liu-er-san hao fangjian - barked at the operater whenever trying to call him) Legendary of course. The laughter, the songs, the craziness, the smoke and talk and talk. Riding taxis completely shitfaced at 7am to have breakfast at the JianGuo Hotel (which was the NEW place back then - and they had real croissants). And talking over breakfast - not only about silly matters but also about all the real stuff: family, heartaches, travels - oh my. I did two paintings for his apartment: One for a Christmas party featuring Virgin Mary, Joseph - and Santa Claus (the painting can be seen in the background in one of the pictures in the gallery) and another abstract for a summer party. The latter was given the title "My name is GOD - I am Chinese" and I still remember Simon at 3am spending a long time pondering how he could translate that sentence into proper classical Chinese verse.

When I left Beijing to go back to Denmark in 1983 after two fantastic years - years in which Simon had played a very big part in my social life, he told me as we said goodbye "don't expect me to write - I'm not good at writing letters". That was sad, but on the other hand I always felt our bond was so strong that it didn't matter - we would meet again someday. And sure enough: Four years later, when I was back in Beijing for the first time showing off my girlfriend (now wife) that crazy place we rode our rented bicycles out to the Youyi. As we walked into the lobby, I pointed to the right and said "now back in the old days Simon would be sitting there" - And lo and behold! There he was - with his book and his beer being his usual brilliant friendly self.

We lost touch again after that. I always imagined that he had left Beijing after 1989 - and I guessed right, but I never managed to find him even through Google. But then again: I knew that one day I would walk into some bar in Asia and there he would be - behind a cloud of smoke, laughing, drinking and telling stories... Now that will have to wait.

Simon, hearing that you have passed away brings tears to my eyes. Rest in peace, my friend.

Holger Dahl

Between 60 and 70 friends turned up to pay their respects. Food and drinks were provided in an air-conditioned pavilion, where Simon’s coffin was surrounded by a lovely flower display and a collection of wreaths provided by his closest friends, his family in England, and The Nation newspaper. Old photographs of Simon were displayed on a large television screen and his favourite music was played on the sound system. The Nation was represented by the newspaper editor and the company president. When the time came, Ramona led the procession to the crematorium and we all followed. Monks chanted as the coffin was lifted into the burner along with several of Simon’s most treasured possessions and pictures of his parents. I started the fire by lighting a flammable flower display and placing it in the burner while the rest of the gathered friends filed past throwing smaller flower displays into the fire. The coffin was soon engulfed in flames as the burner closed. We all adjourned to the Dubliners pub, where a lone Scottish piper played ‘The Flower of Scotland’ as a final lament for Simon.
Ronan
October 25, 2009

Out of all the memories I have of Simon in Beijing, one picture from the winter of 1986 has embedded itself in my mind.

I see him through a thick cloud of cigarette smoke in the as yet un-renovated and pleasantly grotty Number One bar at the Friendship Hotel. We are sitting at a table full of boisterous African students. Suddenly, apropos to nothing, he turns to me with a scowl, lifts his beer glass and growls in a heavy Russian accent: “Long live the glorious Soviet Republic of Estonia!”

I had come to Beijing from the icy, polluted city of Baotou in Inner Mongolia, a cold, lonely foreigner seeking warmth and friendship – and found Simon. And that is exactly what Simon has meant to me, just as he has to so many other people in this world: warmth, friendship and humour. What a wonderful legacy!

Siria Mitchell
The glorious (but no longer Soviet, thank God) Republic of Estonia

I was lucky to meet Simon in 1987-88, when I worked in Beijing and lived at the Friendship Hotel. I saw him only twice since then. The first time we met at his flat in Soi 42/1 Sukhamvit Road and drank downstairs with some of his friends in a little outdoor bar. The last time I saw Simon was around New Year 1998. He came to the hotel where I was staying near Khao San Road to meet me and the friends I was with.

I lost touch with Simon after that. I last tried to contact him when I flew to Bangkok after the friends he met were caught in the tsunami and flown to Bumrungrad for treatment.

In June this year I met Hari Kumar, formerly of the Nation, at a BBQ in Hong Kong. Someone took photos and there were some of Hari and me. I sent them to Simon, along with a photo of me with my friends in Bumrungrad. He replied:

Subject: RE: RU there?
Date: Fri, 3 Jul 2009 07:17:03 +0000

Simmie,

How marvellous to hear from you!
No, I didn't get a message from you about the tsunami. Your friends seem well, though, and Bumrungrad is a very good hospital.
Is that Hari Kumar I see in that picture? I haven't seen him for some years, soon after he left The Nation, to go to Shanghai, I believe.
But how are YOU, and what are you doing? Alchemy? Cabbala? You don't appear to have changed.
I am moving house this week, still way out of town, but no cats now, so you'll be able to visit. 22/625 Evergreen View Tower, Soi 56 Bangna-Trad Road, Bangkok 10260, a 25th-floor flat in a condo with a view halfway to Yunnan.
I'm also in the throes of retirement and shall be able to squire you about.

Simon

I asked if he planned to stop working completely and mentioned some mutual friends. I said Glyn was coming to Hong Kong around Sept 25 and asked if he could join us. He replied:

Subject: RE: Misc.
Date: Sat, 4 Jul 2009 09:18:29 +0000

Dear Simmie,

Yes, I shall stop working entirely and try to get something written at long last. For too long my life has been checking business stories, and I shall not grieve if I never again read a sentence ending "...year on year respectively".
I ought -- cross fingers -- to be settled enough to travel by Sept 25, so here's hoping.
I am in touch still with Kelly and Glyn but have not seen either of them in the flesh for some years -- actually Glyn only a couple -- but John I haven't seen in donkeys' years. How's he doing?

Cheers,
Simon

I told him I was leaving for Canada, where I would see Kelly, Glyn and John. On July 30 I sent him photos of Kelly, Glyn and their daughter Taiyan, John McCallum and David Henderson. He replied:

Subject: RE: Familar faces
Date: Fri, 31 Jul 2009 09:36:23 +0000

Hi Simmie

Having just re-read The Lord of the Rings, I suspect John is in possession of a ring of power: he hasn't changed at all, though he has a less flamboyant taste in hats.
Thinking of David Henderson will always remind me queasily of the time in the experts' dining room when with colourful unsuccess he attempted the conjurer's trick of eating a glass. Solid fellow all the same.

Looking forward to Hong Kong in September.

Simon

My last email to Simon:

Subject: R U OK?
Date: Wed, 16 Sep 2009 19:46:05 +0800

Hi Simon,

Glyn tells me you've been feeling poorly and might not get to Hong Kong while he's here. I hope you're okay and up for the trip.

Cheers,
Simmie

I’d like to express my deepest thanks to Hari for leading me to get back in touch with Simon before it was too late, and to Jon, Ramona and Ronan, who took such good care of our sadly and so prematurely departed friend.

Simmie Magid, Hong Kong

I wonder what they make of him
In glorious nirvana?
The man who left that sign out front:
"Take hippos in no further"

The one with endless anecdote
Who wears that strange moustache,
And every hour a wardrobe change
And hearty bellylaugh

He'll regale them with the finest tales
From places far and wide,
And slowly they will warm to him
And welcome him inside

And over time, they'll realise
The gift that they've been given,
And the void in friends he left behind
Will be recompensed in heaven.

Steve Matthews