Abominable Cruelty

Sometimes life in Japan is cruel.
It's the translation.
It just doesn't always work.

Take digestive biscuits.
What do you get?
Daijesutibu bisuketto.
It ain't right.

I warn you Japan, don't play games with an englishman's biscuit.

Shizuoka to Hamamatsu by train at dusk

ready, steady, GO

Went to watch the loggerhead turtles hatching at the beach. Those in charge issue you a turtle for a princely sum and you wander down, take position, point your boy towards the sea and watch 'em fly. How do they know which way to go?

Finally got around to going to watch the keirin cycle racing in Shizuoka. Eight chaps on track bikes dress up in silly coloured lycra and ride around at (supposeably) 40-50mph. This is done for purely gambling purposes rather than a love of the sport. Getting on the bus to the track I felt out of place, the entire appeal seems to be for the over 50-something sad-male. It's no place for the 20-something sad male. I snapped a couple of shots before being told photos were a DAME-DAYO.



Found the whole thing slightly depressing, the bikes are cool, but it's a two minute race every half hour, and if you're not the gambling kind there's little excitement. It started to get a bit more interesting towards the end - the sad-males lined up alongside the barrier shouting encouragement and abuse. I left before the final race so I wouldn't get stuck waiting for a bus.
Killing time before heading home I found an 'Afternoon Tea' cafe.

It was nice to hear soft piano chords finding the space between the rythyms of cup & saucer, knife & spoon. I think a cup of tea, jam and scones are some of my favourite things in the world.
I think it'd be more fun to bet on the turtles.

Ode to Nathan

He was waiting for me when I got back from my holiday in Hokkaido. He was so quiet I didn't even notice him until the evening when I went to take a shower. I took my glasses off and stepped in, I don't even bother turning on the light because hell, I can't see a damned thing! I still wouldn't have noticed him until he quickly moved in the darkness, clearly uncomfortable with my nakedness (you're not even the first this week pal). So I didn't scream, get annoyed, or even kick the cheeky bastard. I just stepped back out of the shower and put my glasses on, turned the light on and looked in. There he was, looking a little sheepish, crouched in the corner.
He wasn't going anywhere, so I fixed him a starey-stare and went to get a cup. I tried to nail the sucker with the cup so I could kick him out. Chuck him off the balcony, or down the stairs. He dodged and hid behind the bath. I sprayed him with the shower head until he was totally hidden, I couldn't even see his legs. At least he was hiding so I figured it was safe to shower, I'll just wait and get him next time.
Next night, ooh, what a surprise, Nathan's back in prime position in the corner. Right, you little sod, I upgraded to a bowl. Still dodged the sucker! Hid behind the bath, out of sight. The night after, the same, the night after, the same; I tried the washing-up bowl on that boy and no dice.

I can't believe this guy, after all the crap he gave Harmonica.

"You know Nathan," I said to him, "I'm kinda mad at you."

The Walker

Just before Christine left I spotted a book on her bookshelf. It was about the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool, and being the kind person she is, she gave it to me.





It struck me how much my early definition of art and also history was informed almost entirely by this collection of art. I remember being taken to this gallery at various times as a child and having these images explained to me (usually less than willingly did I listen).
But seeing them again, after such a long time took me straight back to being 7 years old standing in this fusty gallery, all brown woodwork and varnish, huge Victorian style rooms with grand doors and elaborate ceiling decoration. Running (quietly) from room to room impressed only by the silence and the grave-grandness of my surroundings - just wanting to go and see dinosaurs next door. Usually on cold wet days in November.
It had been a long time since I thought about it; ages ago.

Good memories though; and reminded me of one of my favourite children's books, 'Lulu and the Flying Babies'. It's about two very bored children wandering around an art gallery, when they start meeting the various characters from the paintings.

When did I last see "When did you last see your father?" I can't remember. I wish I could.

en velo

click to enlarge

Tally-ho, ONWARD! To Survival!

chorusline

and to send us all off a huge chorus, hundreds of thousands strong, take note, tune up, and play; soaring strings of all kinds pick up in dramatic crescendos reverberating around the whole town - anywhere green is deafening with this single note performance, repetition is key, repitition is key, repitition is key