The magic dictionary

I'll be taking my Japanese test this week, and it'll be great to have it finally over with, as it's the second time I've taken it and frankly, I'm bored of spending hours slumped over pages of kanji and never remembering any of them.

I basically spend hours staring at texts, thumbing through a very-well worn dictionary, that I'm now convinced is something out of Harry Potter. Maybe it's the hours I've spent flicking through it, maybe I'm going slightly crackers, but I swear the dictionary has magic powers. I check the dictionary for a word, and the character isn't listed, which basically suggests it's not a real word. If it's not in the dictionary, it's not a word, right?

Well, by that rule, using my dictionary, half the words in the test paper don't exist. And don't think I'm not looking properly, because I scour the damn thing for hours. And then, someone else comes along, and promptly asks the killer question, "isn't that it there?" Hence unleashing my self-righteous wrath.

It wasn't there when I looked, the "helpful" person somehow managed to make it appear a few seconds later, just like in Harry Potter. It's a conspiracy against me, I'm convinced. Either that, or I'm paranoid.

Things to be grateful for

I always get a bit annoyed with Thanksgiving as it almost always clashes with my birthday, and I don't like anything that takes the attention away from me. I a bit spoiled that way. But in the spirit of the holiday, I'll try and summon up a few things I'm appreciative of in this post-birthday, pre-Christmas season.

Channel 1 on our TV: It's a kind of local channel that fills me with a joy only a local TV channel can. There are no presenters, it's far too Post Modern for such things. Half the screen is dedicated to an up to the minute weather update. I can now tell you that between 3 and 6pm there it will be 12 degrees and sunny, with a 10% chance of rain. The other half of the screen alternates between homemade local announcements, such as which hospital has the emergency service this weekend (Try Okushima hospital today) and pictures from traffic cameras in the outlying areas of the city. Bearing in mind that the outlying areas are in the mountains, where there is little to no traffic, the traffic cameras seem somewhat unnecessary. The entertainment comes from trying to predict if there will be a car the next time the footage is shown and if so, if it will be going fast enough to be seen as a blur. It's strangely addictive and is a marvellous way to waste a disturbing amount of time. And yes, I'm aware that I should probably go out more, but it's cold and I'm lazy and my new "predict the car on Route 55" game is way more fun than I'm making it sound because I left out the part where I gamble one yen coins on it. It's like Vegas but without the showgirls. Seriously. And I forgot to say that there's a soundtrack of Smooth, Easy listening jazz playing constantly, which makes me think of bars in movies where they seem to play such things. Which is odd, because in every bar I go to it's a choice between badly sung karaoke or 80s classics, no tuxedo-wearing piano player in sight. Anyway, Channel 1 is way more fun than I have made it sound, I promise.

My new tea cosy- It's a simple piece of British technology, but it keeps my tea warm and that's makes me happy. I'm sure, if I looked hard enough, I would find some marvellous piece of Japanese technology with microchips or something to keep my humble pot of Twinings at optimum drinking temperature, but I'm happy with my retro tea cosy. Oh. I should probably say I'm grateful to the parents who sent said tea cosy along with a jumper and other goodies as a birthday present for their youngest offspring, but that might veer towards the twee, and I'm adverse to too much twee in the holiday season.

Okonomiyaki- My birthday feast consisted of this delicious Japanese savory pancake, cake, and Guinness, all supplied by my lovely friends. Truly I believe Okonomiyaki to be the food of the Gods. Or at least, one of many foods that the Gods appreciate. If you've never tried it, okonomiyaki is a pancake mix, cooked on a hot plate, with meat, cheese and spring onions with mayonnaise, and a kind of brown sauce similar to HP (although obviously not as good). Washed down with Guinness and followed by cake, I can assure you it is a delight. I'm quite sure Kate and Wills are considering it for the Wedding Banquet that I may or may not be invited to. I'm on the hunt for a hat just in case.

Oh, that's quite enough being thankful for one day. I have to go frown at the dust before I go out. I'm trying a new house cleaning technique of frowning about the dirt to make it feel unwelcome. I'll let you know if it works.

The day I ran a marathon and then went to work

Well, OK, that title is slightly deceptive. It was a half marathon, and it was more of a shuffle than a run. And I didn't have to work my full schedule. Other than that, it's totally true.

It all started a while back when the application form for the local marathon arrived. In the way that we do when such things arrive, I told myself I had loads of time to train and it would be a fun challenge. I would obviously get fitter by training and, as an extra bonus, have the body of a supermodel by the time of the marathon. It was clearly an all-round win situation.

I've clearly been reading too many women's magazines about "finding a fun challenge to get the body you've always wanted". You'd think the fact that the "5 minutes a day for thinner thighs" doesn't seem to work would have tipped me off that these magazines are total bobbins, but no. A fine example of positive thinking over common sense if ever there was one.

Anyway, I did a bit of training. I actually do enjoy running, especially if Mother Nature plays ball and I get the right combination of warm sun and cool temperatures. I was averaging about 10kms a week. Which makes me sound like quite the athlete, don't you think?

But, do you know, 10kms is a bit more than 21kms. Less than half, if you do the maths. Which might help to explain why actual race day hurt so much. And hurt, it did. The first 15kms were fine. The weather filled my requirements, the people were smiling and the course had no hills. So far, so good.

The course went along one of the rivers in  the town, and when I realised I had run all the way to the next town (which usually takes a while by bus), I knew I had my bragging point. You know, the point we all select from any adventure to drop into every conversation for the next week or so, such as "Hmm, you're right Kim Jong Il IS crazy. You know what else is crazy? I ran to Tobe. How's that for crazy?" or "Yes, I really think that modern society relies too much on cars. I noticed the new highway construction as I ran to Tobe last week. Do you know how far that is?"

Being quite a slow runner means that I spend a great deal of every race running alone, slightly defeating the point of joining a big running event with thousands of others, so the race volunteers are always pleased to see me. I can see them thinking "OK, here's one of the last ones, a couple more minutes and we can go home. Thank chocolate for that, I'm dying to pee." I always seem to provoke a large cheer as I approach the water stations, and am often surprised to see there's any water left by the time I get there.

I understand that, for a lot of people, running for three hours (told you I was slow) is close to how they imagine hell to be. I'm weird. I know. But, I was having a marvellous time, except for the pains in my legs and the old people who insisted on cycling along the running course. In fact, one old man wobbled his bike right in front of me, and I had to stop. I was all "Oh. Old man. I'm trying to hobble a marathon here. Do you know how hard it is to get going again when I stop?" I don't think he was listening, he wobbled off to get in the way of some other sporting event.

Having shuffled across the finishing line, greeted into the stadium by a crowd of about 5 people (the other 10 000 had already gone home), I eased my way back onto my little green bicycle of rust and peddled back home. Needless to say, it took a while to get there as cycling up hills on a bike with no gears is hard enough at the best of times but after the morning I'd had...

Luckily, Roomie had the day off, it being a public holiday (Labour thanksgiving day, I believe it translates as) and was in the mood for pancakes. Hoo hoo. I lounged in the living room, eating pancakes, and watching sumo, thinking how great life was until I remembered that I had to go to work.

The school I work at doesn't close on public holidays, which I didn't find out until the last public holiday when I almost missed work because I didn't know I had to go. It took a while, but I managed to get there, only to find, to my joy, I only had one class. And he is a sweetie who always laughs at my jokes, so it was really no hardship.

So all in all, running a half marathon and then going to work turned out to be quite a reasonable day. I still don't have the body of a supermodel, though. Maybe a full marathon would do the trick...

I must be getting old...again

I was a sunny day here on the small island, warm and lovely and autumnal. My favourite kind of afternoon. Sadly, I had to spend it doing one of my least favourite things of late, studying for this stupid Japanese test that I've decided I need to take. It's now got to the point that I can't really remember why I need to take it, but I want to pass it just to say I did.

So, I end up spending perfectly lovely Sunday afternoons holed up in the library peering at kanji, trying to work out if they have any meaning at all. Until I can't do it any more and relocate to Starbucks.

Japanese Starbucks are exactly the same as anywhere else, with a few minor regional differences (Green tea frappacino*, anyone?) and so, on Sunday afternoons they are the go to place for anyone with nowhere better to be.

Today was no exception. It was so crowded, I had to sit outside where the smokers usually gather. On the next table was a young couple, around university age, who I worked out weren't actually a couple yet because they kept "casually" mentioning Christmas to each other and checking their love horoscopes to see if they would find someone before the festive season begins. It would have been quite sweet if I wasn't such a bitter old spinster.

In the name of getting to know each other better, they started discussing music and the boy was trying to impress her with his new smart phone. (There's probably no point in explaining to any boy that girls don't usually give a hoot about the options on your phone, they just want you to to use it to call us) He began playing her clips of his favourite music, which varied between dodgy 80s rock and Katy Perry. Weird combination, don't you think?

Anyway, turns out smart phones have quite strong speakers and the music was pretty loud.  Between them and the hits of Bing Crosby (And by the way Bing, no I would not like to take a sleigh ride together with you, there will be no sleigh riding around here for at least another month, thank you very much) I was getting more than a bit irritated. Especially as the music I was using as an excuse not to study really wasn't to my taste.

And then suddenly, it hit me. The music wasn't the problem I was. Old people complain about the noise young people make. I'm getting old.

Don't even get me started on how TV these days isn't as good as it used to be.

*How do you spell Frappacino anyway?

The day I thought I'd killed the dog

Dogs should never eat chocolate, did you know that? Never. If they eat chocolate, they'll die. I found out after I moved in with roommates who have a dog. For someone who has a worrying chocolate addiction, that's pretty bad news, if only because it poses a threat to the security of my emergency chocolate stash. Especially when the dog in question has a reputation for sneaking into places he shouldn't go and eating things he shouldn't eat. Like tissues and plastic wrappers. I don't think those digest well.

Recently, the dog has started to expand his territory from the room next to mine, into my room, most precisely onto the quilt in my room, next to the window where the sun shines for most of the day, making it the warmest spot in the house. This has already led to one unsettling event and I had hoped that was the end of it. Oh, how I was wrong!

I had left some chocolate on the table in my room, meaning to send it to my friend at home. It was the kind of thing you often find in Japanese convenience stores, a small square of chocolate with the kind of name that only makes sense if you don't speak English. It was cheese chocolate and the wrapper said "Cheese, the friend of wine", a name which has the subtext of "buy me and mock my producers endlessly", don't you think? So I bought it, and it's wine based equivalent which should have been equally as funny but wasn't somehow. I left it where I would see it because I'm notorious for hoarding things to send home and then ending up taking them with me the next time I go home, which defeats the object of a care package from Japan, really doesn't it?

Anyhoo, back to my story. I had totally forgotten about the chocolate until I found a small bit of its wrapper on the floor. And a sheepish, although healthy looking dog. It took a few seconds for the penny to drop. Ok, it actually took a few minutes, I'm pretty slow, but I wasn't going to tell you that. Clearly, the dog had eaten the chocolate, wrapper and all.

Cue major panic as Roomie's words went round and round and round in my head "chocolate kills dogs, chocolate kills dogs, chocolate kills dogs". Over and over and over again.

So I did what any clear thinking person would do in such a situation. I Googled "What happens if a dog eats chocolate?"

I was hoping it would come up with answers such as "no problem, that's just an urban myth." Sadly, I was kidding myself. It said it was bad, really, bad. It said I should take the dog to the vet's immediately. Except, I don't know where Su's vet is, I suspect it requires a car, which I don't have. So, still hoping for an answer that suited me better, I scrolled down.

According to Yahoo answers, a dog that has eaten chocolate will be hyper-active, have an irregular heart beat, and chronic diarrhoea. Images of Su, running around in circles, leaving a trail of poop all over the house flashed through my mind. I wasn't getting any calmer.

Until I looked over at the dog I had accidently poisoned, supposedly taking him to death's door, risking his life for the sake of a cheap laugh.

He was asleep. Except, of course, I took one look and decided he was dead. Still no calmer, I decided to investigate further.

Luckily, Fuji TV has been showing a vet based drama lately. As much as it is arguably the worst drama I have seen in years, despite starring the usually pretty good Shun Oguri (Although, if whoever styles Mr Oguri's hair is reading this, what on God's earth have you done to his hair? The long, greasy haired look with the geeky glasses? No, no, no. The short cropped look he had in Tokyo Dogs, yes, yes, yes.). However, it gave me a character to channel (I live my life along similar lines to Robert DeNiro, I'm very much a method actor), so I embraced my inner Shun Oguri and checked the dog's heartbeat.

It seemed OK, I mean it didn't seem particularly fast. I don't normally check dog's heart beats, but maybe he was really sleeping. Well, he was until I put my cold hands on his little hairless chest and he woke up with quite a start, which I decided was a sign of hyperactivity and my own heart skipped a beat. Then he went right on back to sleep and I got a grip.

The internet said he would show signs of poisoning within an hour or so, so I sat, watching him, for about an hour and a half. He slept very soundly, with a regular heartbeat. Every so often, he would open his eyes and look at me as if to say "dear God, woman, have you nothing better to do than watch me? Without a trace is on, you know".

Eventually the time came for me to go to work and I reluctantly left the dog in my room, wondering how long the diarrhoea attack would take to kick in, and hoping quite strongly that it wouldn't happen in my room. I then spent all my time at work debating whether or not I should own up to being the cause of any ill health the dog may have suffered while I was out. It was a regular moral quandary and, by the time I got home, I was convinced I would need to get a new futon if he had pooped all over it again, or find a new home, if the dog had died.

It didn't bode well when there was no barking as I climbed the stairs. The dog is a backwards security guard and only barks when someone who lives here comes up the stairs, and then only if someone else is already home. Yeah, real secure, Su, thanks for that.

Going into the living room with a certain sense of dread, I saw the dog. He was sitting on a cushion merrily licking his balls, looking perfectly healthy. There was no sign of any major pooping and Roomie seemed surprised at my over enthusiastic greeting.

In the end, I confessed. Mostly, with there being no sign of anything bad having happened, I figured Roomie wouldn't get too angry. She didn't, and actually told me she had done something similar before.

As for the dog, he's fine. Normal service has continued. He even pooped in the hallway today to demonstrate it.

Getting ready for Christmas

I'll be staying in Japan this year for Christmas, which requires a certain amount of preparation. I've been quite preoccupied with the whole adventure so I wrote this.

I've decided not to go home because the price of a ticket is more than I earn in a month, and I guess the electricity company wouldn't take "I used the money I owed you to go home and eat turkey" as a reason for not paying the bill. The meanies. So, I'm planning a Japanese Christmas.

In Japan, the main dishes seem to be KFC chicken and a fancy cake. Now, if you know me at all, you'll know I'm all about the cake. But KFC?! Seriously, Japan?!

No no no. Christmas without my Dad's turkey is one thing, but I refuse to eat KFC for Christmas.

So, I am now in the process of planning a Christmas away from home that doesn't suck. Any tips?

Also, how do I let Santa know that I'm not going to be home? How will he know where to deliver to?

Horoscope Happiness

While sitting in the laundrette last night, waiting for my futon to be de-pooped. Roomie and I had to entertain ourselves. Once I got bored of being wheeled around in the little trolley thingy (I couldn't resist, and yes, I know I should grow up at some stage), we reached for the magazines. They were surprisingly up to date and we amused ourselves by checking out the horoscopes.

Apparently, this month won't be great but I'll be super popular by the end of the year. Hurrah!

An English comedian, Dave Gorman, once tried to live his life according to his horoscope (check it out here). Check him out dancing out of trouble here.

According to The Sun's Mystic Meg, today Fiery Mars is going to give me the energy and self belief to find out how far a secret ambition could take me; I'll have good relationships with my family, so much so we will make money together; it will be worth my while to pay attention to a love match and my perfect partner will have the same initials as me.

On the other hand, The Mirror's David Wells says that family will not be co operative today, so I should  leave them to get on with it.

Hmm, maybe I should ditch the horoscopes and get on with my life. What do you think?

The futon and the poop

It finally happened. Something I've been worrying about since we moved in back in April. So much so, I often come back to the house to check the door to my room is closed. And when I come home, I obsessively check the area.

Let me explain what happened last Saturday night.

I came home from work and met a friend at the door. Hideo san is a SuLDK favourite. She's very relaxed, luckily, in the light of what happened later. And she always comes equipped with interesting artifacts and foods. This time was some postcards of Edo period Japan and an interesting new cocktail. Roomie was running late so we sat down and opened a beer. The dog didn't come out of his pit when we came in, but he's a moody little bugger sometimes and we just assumed he was still sleeping.

We got chatting about a magazine I've done some work for, and I went into my room to get it. The dog came flying out and almost knocked Hideo san over in his enthusiasm. Somehow during the day, he had got into my room and couldn't get back out again. Stupid animal.

I grabbed the magazine and went back to my conversation. Roomie came home with half the supermarket and I realised it dinner was going to be quite a feast. I needed "dinner" pants, you know, the ones with room for belly expansion. I popped into my room to change, and Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

The dog had left me a "message" on my bed. Yup, that's right. My roommate's had dog pooped on my bed.

I guess, while he was stuck in my room, he had needed to go and, well, went. On my bed. Marvellous.

Cue lots of faffing about with anti-bacterial spray, washing machines and many apologies from Roomie. To be fair, he's a dog, they poop, sometimes in weird places. In the past few weeks, he's left little deposits on the living room floor, in the hallway that we grandly call the "library" because it has some books stacked in it and on the top of the speaker that is randomly on the floor next to the dog's house even though there isn't a stereo in sight. So I guess I can add my bed to the list.

I'm currently sleeping on a borrowed futon while I wait for Roomie to wash mine. Apparently I have to go with her tonight to the big laundromat, which I'm looking forward to, as you can imagine. As for the bed sheets, I'm considering burning them, unless I manage to get Roomie to assist with the stain removal. Any ideas?

Meh.

It's Friday night, one Roomie is still at work and one Roomie has gone to bed. Well, actually, I sent her, her eternal tiredness is boring me and sleep is a good cure for that. I know Friday night is for painting the town red, but I have to work tomorrow and I'm all out of red paint.So basically, to all extents and purposes, I'm home alone with the English drama channel.

Which is about as exciting as it gets. Unless you like stories about my cute lil students who imitate DJs when I try to teach them "Y says y,y yo-yo". It's really a funny story when I tell it in person, at least the Roomies nearly wet their pants yesterday over it.

Or I could tell you about the healthy lunch I had with my friend and her little boy today. He's another cutie, he drew me a picture while we ate dessert.

Meh. It was only cute if you were there.

Right, I will go all out tomorrow and find a non-child related blog post, even if it means venturing into another social occasion, and I think we know how those go.

Wish me luck!

Remembrance Day

Today is November 11th.

In England, it's Remembrance Day.

It's the day we remember those who have died in war, and those who are currently in military service.

We wear a red poppy to show our thanks.

At 11am, we have a one minute silence as a tribute.

It's nothing compared to what those in service do for us, but it's a start.

A little bit of self promotion

Check me out here.

And have a little browse on this amazing website. Even if you can't affords to go anywhere, this will give you plenty to daydream about.

Also, if you're in Japan or Hawaii, pick up a copy of next month's Ai-Eye magazine to find an article by yours truly about Ehime's tallest mountain, Ishizuchi san.

Thanks!

I should be studying, and other such things

Why is it the closer my Japanese test gets, the less I want to study? I go to the classes, which counts as studying, I think. I prepare for the classes, which is studying of a kind, I suppose. I don't do the homework, because it takes me so long to prepare for the lessons, I run out of time energy motivation. And, really, the teacher can't have it both ways.
So far this week, I have been running (have to prepare for the marathon later this month), caught up on Beverly Hills 90210 (nostalgia is good for the soul) and cleaned my room countless times (cleanliness is next to Godliness, and I need all the help I can get). All of which adds up to a big ol' avoidance tactic.
Maybe I'll just not bother learning to read, I'll rely on friends to help me. They don't mind... much.

A bit of retro with your lunch

The cable channel here that specilises in English TV dramas has hit on a good thing. At lunchtime, they show a double bill of the 90s classic "Beverly Hills 90210". Remember? Brenda, Brandon, Dylan and the gang; amazing 90s fashion, loose socks (I wonder if they would have found this handy?), DM boots and velvet hats. Not to mention the totally over the top outfits they all wore to school, which made my hugely attractive green uniform look even more cabbagey. 

I loved the show when I was a kid, I even had a hat just like Brenda's, and of course, the boots. The theme music conjures up Saturday evenings at home, forcing my Granddad to watch with me. And to his eternal credit, Granddad feigned interest in the goings on at West Beverly and waited patiently for McGyver to start.

I tried watching the new spin-off but it just waasn't the same. I guess I'm not in their target audience anymore. But, for me, the original will always be the best.

What 90s shows did you love? I could seriously make you a list.

How unfortunate...

There are times when I think I shouldn't be allowed out in public. Seriously. I'm a social disaster. Let me give you an example.

Just the other day, I went to what can only be described as a "cultural event". Yup, it was for proper grown ups, which might explain why I had trouble fitting in. I arrived late, after work and had missed the main event, a lecture by a Japanese man who had lived in Los Angeles for the last thirty years. He had started his own newspaper, which keeps people in the LA area up to date with Japanese cultural events. I'm told that the purpose of his lecture was to encourage Japanese people to take more pride in their culture, but I'm not altogether sure about that.

As soon as I walked in the door, Roomie (yup, she was the one who invited me, she's seems to be present at most of my disastrous attempts to enter polite society) grabbed me and practically threw me at a middle-aged man. He turned out to be the star of the show.

Cue the most awkward conversation I've had in weeks (I teach conversation, I have a lot of awkward conversations), considering he was there to speak, he wasn't particularly talkative. Roomie disappeared immediately, she's more sociable than me and so has better "bad conversation" radar than me. I did my valiant best, but I think it safe to say that I did not impress. I think the best worst part of the conversation went something like this:

Me: So, you have a cultural newspaper, huh? It's very colourful.
Unimpressed Man: Yes, it's printed in colour.
Me: Is Japanese culture popular in LA?
UM: Yes, it is.
Me: Why is Japanese culture popular in LA?
UM: Because it's interesting.
Me: Oh.

Amazing. I think we bonded.

He finally palmed me off on to someone else, who thrust his business card at me and told me to email him, without specifying what I should email him about, before launching into an epically uncomfortable presentation of his volunteer group's work with foreign residents in a town miles away. When I asked if I could get involved, he told me I couldn't. Which really begs the question, why so keen to tell me about it?

After what felt like about a year of boring conversation, I made my excuses (cold, seasonally acceptable) and left, convinced I'd been there hours.

I'd been there half an hour.

Maybe not the best night in project  "please don't let me die a sad lonely old maid" , but at least I got a blog post out of it.

Tofu cooking

Tofu tastes of nothing, right? It is bland and is only to be eaten when going through a crazy diet phase, right? Unless you're Japanese, in which case it's a staple part of your daily food intake. There are even restaurants devoted purely to food with tofu as the main ingredient.

A little while ago, I was invited out to dinner by some old students, which is always lovely. Although, I have to confess that my heart sank when they cheerfully reported that we would be enjoying tofu cooking. Never one to turn down a free meal, I went along anyway, after practicing my "hmmm, delicious" face.

But, I stand corrected. It turned out to be one of the best meals I've had in years.

Tofu, and vegetables. The miso paste on the top of the tofu was delicious.

Tofu based soup, the water comes from a hot spring in Kyushu. The soup is ready when the water turns white. It's supposed to be full of all sorts of healthy stuff.

More soup and rice. Even more delicious than it looks.

Tofu ice cream. Yup, you did read that right.

It was enough to make me rethink my approach to tofu. I'm not sure I'll be cooking it much at home, but I could easily be convinced by the tofu restaurant in the future.

Culture Day

Wednesday was culture day, a public holiday when Japanese people spend the day doing, um, well, the shopping and a bit of TV watching from what I can gather. I'm sure some people enjoy a bit of culture though. Just no one I know.

As I had to work (I know, shocking! And I only found out on Tuesday, which doubled the shock value), I decided to refrain from exhausting cultural activity and stay home, studying but mostly getting in the way of my roommates epic cleanathon.

Yes, please note, I did not participate in said cleanathon, because I'm just not that helpful, and when I halfheartedly hovered and offered to help, I was enthusiastically shooed away and told to get on with revising for my Japanese test. Frankly, I think cleaning the bathroom would have been more fun. Certainly more productive...

Anyway, in the spirit of being just a little helpful, I decided to go to the convenience store to stock up on cakes to fuel the workers' efforts. I always enjoy a peruse of the convenience store, there's so much in there to be entertained by. If I'm honest, the prospect of whiling away a good half hour in the store, instead of staring at pages kanji was more interesting to me than being a generous roommate. Does that make me a bad person? Oh well, so sue me...

Anyway, with it being culture day and all, I decided to pick up something seasonally appropriate. Japanese people love seasonal goods, and they don't limit that to Christmas and Halloween. In your average convenience store, you will find a different soft drink for every season and sweets that change their wrappers every few months.

(please excuse the fact that the pictures are on their side, I can't get them to rotate...)

For those of you who are not familiar with Japanese writing, the one on the left is pumpkin pudding (known as Mont Blanc, which is usually made from Chestnuts and so very popular in autumn), and the one on the right is pumpkin profiterole (known as shoo cream). How's that for a bit of seasonal vegetable goodness? And I'd say they'd count for your 5 a Day, containing vegetables and all.

Here they are in all their delicious goodness.



But that wasn't enough seasonal goodness for me, oh no, culture day requires more than a surprising mix of pumpkin and cream.

So, I picked up this as well.

Yup, that's Mont Blanc Pepsi. As in chestnut flavoured Pepsi. We were slightly disappointed with the chestnut Pepsi, it smelled good but didn't taste anything like chestnut. It just tasted a bit weird.

So, culture day gave us a clean bathroom, and some new flavours that got mixed reviews. Not a bad tally for a public holiday.

Random pictures

Digital cameras are funnny things, aren't they? I find I end up with loads of pictures on the memory card that don't, by any stretch of the imagination, belong together. I recently went through the memory card on my camera, and was amused by the random selection of pictures I found.

Water up in the mountains of Ehime.

Okonomiyaki from the time I went for lunch with an old student

A naked Su getting camera shy and Roomie not really helping mcuh.

Creepy scarecrows near my house

A machine for making Guiness poured from a can look like this:

Our terrace on moon viewing night (NB It doesn't usually look like this)

A Japanese garden in September

A small person under a big tree

I'm not quite sure what this is, but I quite like it. I think it was out of my price range at this exhibition though.

On my way home to England, I like the Arabic letters because they look exotic.



An English pub where I had lunch with my family

I don't know why these flowers appeared in the arcade, but I'm glad that they did

So there's a little random look into my life over the past few months. Hope you liked it.

By the way...

Are you hungry?
Check me out here.

Just another WTF moment. (Part 2)

There were a few good guesses, but did you guess what this was?

 I found it at my local supermarket.

While lining up at the checkout, I was using the time wisely by practising reading the katakana on the package (such a dedicated student, and yet still so hopeless...), and was intrigued by "sock touch". I assumed the name had no meaning, English words used in Japan rarely do, and picked it up to check it out. I turned the bottle over and saw this:

Suddenly, all was clear. The product we've all been waiting for. You know how annoying it is when your socks fall down? Well, this is glue forholding them up. A less cumbersome version of the sock suspenders old men often wear in movies. Amazing, right? A solution to a problem I'd never really considered to be a problem. Only in Japan.

Thinking I had found something new and special, I picked up a pack and rushed home before the effort of not laughing hysterically in the aisles of the supermarket led to an accident. As soon as Roomie came home, I showed my hilarious new discovery, in much the same way a small child assaults a parent with their latest artwork.

"Oh yeah," she said. "That's Sock Touch, it's for holding your socks up." Calm as anything, she seemed to feel this was perfectly normal. Apparently, when she was in high school, loose socks were all the rage and it was common for girls to use Sock Touch to keep their loose socks at the optimum level. She seemed surprised that we hadn't used it in the UK.

And yet, for all her calm, Roomie was quick to point out that she had never used it. I think she was hiding from my mockery. There are just some culture gaps that cannot be bridged and so must be mocked.

Just another WTF moment. (Part 1)

Dear Readers,
Here is a little quiz for you. Can you imagine what this might be? What would a product called "Sock Touch" be used for?
Answer in a few days...

I must be getting old...

So yesterday was Halloween. Not having really done Halloween as a child, I have never really been that excited about it. In fact, I even remember a particularly over zealous Sunday School teacher telling us that Halloween was evil and we shouldn't celebrate it, because it would make God angry. Yeah, she was great with kids.

Luckily, the English school I work at has no such anti-Halloween sentiments and we had a bit of a do yesterday. I dug deep and put together a "Halloween fairy" costume. In other words, I wore a usual dress, some Halloween wings from the 99p store (yup, I'm so cheap, I snub the pound shop), and splashed out on some glittery hairspray. At least the tin said it was lame, as in lam-ay, I can't find the button on this keyboard to put an accent, but they needn't have worried about the accent. It was actually lame, as in lame, as in rubbish, it was just an overpriced can of regular hairspray with about 3 pieces of glitter in it. So instead of the cool, sparkly Mohican I had planned, I just looked like I hadn't bothered to wash my hair. So a grubby Halloween fairy, then. Marvellous.

One of the full time teachers had spent a disproportionate amount of time creating a haunted house, and was hugely proud of his effort. His recipe? Take one normal classroom, block out all light, make some tunnels out of cardboard boxes and track down a creepy Halloween CD. Borrow someones husband and put him in the closet, get him to rattle the doors when anyone goes past. Grab a skeleton mask and a torch. As the kids emerge from the tunnel, flash the torch on the skeleton mask and laugh maniacally. Guaranteed to paralyse small children with fear. Make sure you get their parents to sign an agreement not to sue you for traumatising their children for life and you have the makings of a hilarious Halloween extravaganza.

And to think, the guy that made that got on my case for trying to scam candy out of 5 year olds...