Musashino Musings

The road to third dan

2010-10-21T19:31:00.001-07:00

This Summer has been really great. But it’s not all been lounging around on beaches and having impromptu barbeques in our car parking port here at Beerhound Mansions. There was also the small matter of my iaido third dan examination that took place in September. Regular readers will know that I failed the first attempt earlier this year. No surprise, as I had really not had enough practice in the run-up to the test. If I’m honest, I’d also seriously underestimated the standard required. Having never failed a martial arts grading before, I thought I’d be able to swing in on the day. I was wrong. So this time, and with the honour of the dojo at stake (this is actually quite a serious point) I was determined not to make the same mistake again.

I had been practicing regularly throughout the Spring and early Summer, but my plan was to start accelerating the training in the run-up to September. As well as iaido practice, I also wanted to build up a reasonable level of base fitness. Even though the examination is not a full-on aerobic challenge like the gradings we used to do in aikido, it is still necessary to have a reasonable amount of core strength to be able to carry out the moves properly and with the required poise. So to help with this, I started running in June. As a devout Fat Bastard, this didn’t come easy at first but within a few weeks I was running a 5km circuit quite happily.

The next milestone was attending the dojo’s Summer Gasshiku, or Summer Camp. This is a tradition in many dojos – a kind of retreat where you just focus entirely on practice. As there is also an element of shared endeavour about the whole thing, this has the additional benefit of helping to strengthen the social ties within the dojo. So it was that I found myself trudging to the station at 4.30am on a bright and hot August morning for the long train journey to Katsuura on the Boso Peninsula.

My destination was the Japan Budo Centre; a purpose-built complex for visiting dojos and school clubs. Set high on a hill, the centre overlooks Katsuura and the Pacific coast of Chiba. It’s basically a hotel with dojo facilities. When I say hotel, perhaps the word hostel would be more appropriate as we were all expected to share 4 or so to a room and the facilities were somewhat, er, Spartan. But comfortable nonetheless, and the dojo was blessed with AIR CONDITIONING! a rare luxury.

The weather was, to use the correct terminology, Bleedin ‘ot. So the air con in the dojo was a blessed relief indeed as the training sessions ran from 9am until 6pm with an hour for lunch. Over the two days, we ran through a lot of stuff; Seitei no gata, lots of koryu (old style) and some of the paired kata from our school where you get to practice with a real opponent using a wooden sword for safety.

On the Saturday night after practice, I walked down the very steep hill from the Budo Centre to the town below. After purchasing some liquid refreshments from the local Family Mart, I made my way to the little fishing harbour for a little drink and some contemplation time. When I say ‘fishing harbour’…think more ‘Grimsby’ than ‘The Algarve’. But the fact that it was dark and warm, and I had a plentiful supply of various alcoholic beverages to hand, lent it a subtle charm. I spent a while watching the local yahoos let off fireworks on the beach (fireworks are a Summer thing here –quite sensibly, in my opinion) and quietly quaffing my Nodo Goshi and Chu-hi. As I sat gazing out across the calm Pacific waters, I really had a sense of wonder about how my life has turned out. I wouldn’t say utterly brilliantly – there’s plenty of things I’d change given the chance. But it certainly has been a remarkable journey; and I think I can take a little bit of pride in the experiences I’ve had and achievements I’ve attained along the way.

After the gasshiku, I had a couple of weeks to refine techniques ready for the grading and I took full advantage of the training opportunities to make sure I was as prepared as I could be. I was still struggling with niggling doubts. Things can always go wrong in an iaido embu (demonstration). The cords that are used to tie the sword scabbard onto the belt have to be expertly handled and can easily get tangled; the scabbard can jump out of the belt; your foot can easily get caught under the hakama – the long pleated trousers we wear. These are all apart from any technical errors in the handling of the sword itself, and any of these will result in an instant fail. Bear in mind that this perfection has to be demonstrated under the baleful glare of a panel of 8th dan masters, looking at you from several different angles, and you can begin to appreciate some of the pressure. Oh and the entire embu has to be completed in 6 minutes, otherwise that’s an instant fail too. I’d had some real problems with the opening and closing Reiho (bowing and sword etiquette) during the gasshiku. During one practice grading, I just couldn’t get the sageo (cords) tied on correctly and I went over-time. These things were really playing on my mind: If it went wrong in the practice, it could also easily go wrong during the exam. But iaido is just as much about mental training as it is physical. Having practiced as hard as possible – including hours spent at home just practicing tying and untying the cords and performing the bows correctly – I felt I had done my best and now it was really out of my hands. With that realisation came a degree of calmness.

The grading itself was held at the Tokyo Budokan in Ayase – scene of both my biggest failure (first 3rd dan test) and my biggest success (winning my 2nd dan class at the Tokyo area championships). There are just two gradings each year. The Summer one was a good deal less busy than the March one, which made it feel a little less stressful. As always, I got there very early so I had a lot of hanging around to do before hand. But soon enough, it was my turn to march out onto the court and do my demonstration. You are given five techniques from the seitei no gata to perform within 6 minutes, including all the opening and closing formalities. These are announced on the day, so there’s no chance to practice these specifically in advance – so you have to know all twelve kata from the set equally well.

I don’t really remember much from the test itself, apart from the fact that it felt a whole lot better than last time. The techniques we’d been given were not my worst ones and I felt quite strong, smooth and in control, compared to last time’s desperate thrashings. It was all over pretty quick, and then I had the long wait to see what the result was.

Once everyone has completed the test, the judges retire for their deliberations. I think for 3rd dan, a minimum of 3 out of 5 judges have to award a pass. The techniques are judged purely on technical merit, so it’s quite unlike a competition where you need to imbue your demonstration with a bit of spirit. I watched another gaijin going for 2nd dan – alas, with a bit too much gusto. He was obviously trying hard but it looked far too aggressive and didn’t exhibit the calm spirit required to advance up the grades. He didn’t make it that time.

After what seemed an eternity, the official emerged with the sheet of paper containing the numbers of those who had passed. If your number’s not on the list, you didn’t make it. I remember the disappointment of last time as I scanned the list in vain for my number. But this time, it was there. Ureshi! I’d done it! My sensei and fellow students were as delighted as I was (and perhaps a little relieved that I hadn’t disgraced them with another failure).

So, another milestone passed. I’ve passed a dan grade exam in Japan and I am now a fully-fledged sandan. Not that this means very much in the great scheme of things: I’m still one of the most junior members of the dojo. However the significance for me is that I have now passed the rank of the guy that wrote my first iaido manual, that I bought maybe 20 years ago when I was studying aikido. The book, “Iaido – The Way of the Sword” by Michael Finn, told the story of the author’s travel to Japan to study iaido and was just as much a personal adventure story as it was a description of the art itself. I was fascinated by his tales of harsh training sessions, stern discipline and his fear of losing face with his teacher. I remember thinking that, while it sounded exciting, it sounded pretty scary too and I wondered if I would be able to cope in such a demanding environment. The author finished his particular journey as a 2nd dan. I can now understand much more about his experiences. Whereas at the time I thought him the ultimate expert, now I can see that maybe he wasn’t quite so adept at negotiating the subtleties of iaido and Japanese culture. But that’s not a criticism – at no stage does the author try to elevate his own status or claim any special knowledge or skills, even though at the time the book was published he could have so easily done both. I have the greatest respect for someone who can maintain such dignified humility. And I still enjoy reading his book – I have it with me here in Japan.

Having an experience like this really brings life’s long journey into perspective. Like looking down from a high mountain pass at the road you’ve travelled along. I am very pleased to have had the opportunity to travel the same road as an author and commentator I respect, and to have perhaps even passed a little way beyond his vantage point.

Chi-chi-chi – le – le - le

2010-10-14T19:57:00.001-07:00

Well done Chile on a successful outcome to the trapped miner saga.

I am looking forward to re-enacting the dramatic rescue later with the Mrs. I shall be playing the role of the Phoenix 2 capsule. Hopefully managing a few more than 33 return trips.

The long,hot Summer

2010-09-27T06:54:00.001-07:00

Well, it’s been a while since my last post and to be honest, I don’t know where this Summer went. One minute I’m blogging about the end of term at Japanese class, and the next I’m sitting here listening to the September rain pounding the street outside and wondering what happened in between.

Well, actually, that’s not strictly true. It’s been a truly great Summer and enough stuff happened over the intervening month or two to provide amble blogging material for the cooler, wetter nights to come. Now things are settling back into a more home-based routine, I shall be relating some of those tales over the next couple of weeks – so stay tuned!

A trip around the world

2010-07-06T16:45:00.001-07:00

Last night was my Japanese class’s annual end-of-term りょうりパーチイー(cooking party). Held at the end of the Summer term each year, this event has become something of an institution, popular with both students and teachers alike. The idea is that everyone cooks a dish from their own country. Given the huge diversity of nationalities at the school, the results are always interesting. And last night was no exception.

Big M joined me for the evening and it was a good opportunity for her to meet my teachers and some of my friends from school. But of course the real reason was to enjoy the tasty treats cooked up by my fellow students. We weren’t disappointed.

Last night’s fare was a gastronomic trip around East Asia. No Indian curries this year – alas – but some fantastic Thai curries, some Vietnamese dishes, Chinese dim sum and gyoza and some really tasty spicy Korean dishes. Plus, some Japanese favourites like tako yaki (sort of fried dumplings with octopus in side), onegiri (sort of rice sandwiches) and various chicken dishes.

Naturally, your humble scribe – being no slouch in the kitchen – rose to the occasion. This time, with a chicken and asparagus pie. Although I have to say, my effort looked a bit lame alongside some of the wonderful creations cooked up by my more talented colleagues.

The thing that I really enjoy about the cooking party is that it really brings it home to me how lucky I am to have experienced so many different cultures and made so many friends with people from every far-flung corner of the globe. The more I learn about people, the more I come to realise that most people are basically the same, and if we each reach out just a little, we are rewarded with friendship and a shared humanity that is enormously satisfying.

Worlds in motion

2010-07-02T07:51:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, because the scenery changes so slowly, it’s difficult to gauge just how far you’ve come in life. But every so often you have a kind of flashback to a former existence that brings the contrast between “then” and “now” into stark focus.

Me and Big M’s married life together has not been easy. In fact, persevering through the many cultural, linguistic and personal problems we’ve encountered has been by far the most difficult thing I have ever done. And I’m sure the Mrs would agree from her side too. We’ve had some bleak times. But slowly – almost imperceptibly – the grey clouds have drifted away. Now, despite the odd gloomy afternoon, we spend most of our days basking in the sweet, sun-blessed meadows of married bliss.

Maybe that’s something that a lot of married couples experience. But in our case, the cultural dimension makes it so much more special. Not only have we both had to learn to live together as individual human beings, but we’ve also had to learn how to close the cultural divide to enable us to function as a couple in the face of the problems that the world inevitably throws our way. In our own little way, we are a microcosm of the culture clashes that have shaped human history; a miniature United Nations, arguing over the dinner table.

When I think back to (or when I am reminded of) how I behaved when we were first married, I really cringe at how insensitive I was to my wife’s culture and sensibilities. This wasn’t down to any callousness on my part – merely the result of a big cultural disconnect between what I thought a husband should be like, and what Big M’s expectations were. Likewise, she has had to come to terms with the fact that the man she is married to holds different values to what she was expecting, and often behaves in ways that she finds surprising –to say the least.

Our married life has, essentially, been a the process of these two worlds slowly colliding; like two galaxies crashing into each over over millennia, we have slowly and quietly adjusted our orbits to be able to dance together in the void without smashing each other to bits in the process. The remarkable thing is that in learning to accommodate each other, we have each gained something of the other’s culture and absorbed it into ourselves. Over the years, this has created a kind of cultural Venn diagram – two distinct cultures but with a shared area between the two that grows a little larger with each passing year.

What brought this home to me was a conversation yesterday about Big M’s workplace. She has recently changed jobs and now works in a government office in Nishi Ogikubo. As a civil servant, she’s not exactly under a lot of pressure (as a civil servant myself for many years, I know what I’m talking about). But nevertheless, the peculiarities of Japanese culture can always be relied to introduce high levels of stress into even the most relaxed working environments. And so it is with Big M’s place of work.

It’s now summer here in Japan. High temperatures combined with insane levels of humidity make life unbearable without air conditioning. Big M’s place of work has – like every building in Japan – air conditioning. But, until last week, it hasn’t been switched on. The reason – the boss has the job of pushing the button: If the Boss decides it’s hot enough to warrant air conditioning, he will push the button. As subordinates, none of Big M’s work colleagues are willing to take it upon themselves to be the first to supplant the Boss’s authority by pushing the button themselves, despite the fact that they are all dying in the heat. So – there has been a subtle campaign running over the last few days to get the most junior and lowly member on the team (Big M) to push the button, so that the other members of the office can a) be cool and b) have someone to blame for pushing the button. I know – it sounds crazy to our western ears. But this is Japanese culture.

But what they haven’t reckoned with is my missus; having absorbed by osmosis the innate British aversion to Jobsworths and all forms of unfair authority, Big M has caused a mini-revolution by declaring - in her own words - “Bollocks – I’m hot…where’s the button?” Pushing the button was one thing: Not feeling bad about it is quite another. I cannot overestimate the impact this has had on Big M’s petty minded colleagues, nor indeed on the esteem in which I hold my dearly beloved wife. In my own small way, I have gradually migrated towards a Japanese outlook on life and the obligations that life places upon us. The net result is that we share a unique, quasi-anarchic, pseudo-conformist attitude of our own creation that can exist happily in both western and Japanese cultures, yet not be absorbed by either. In other words, our own little world that has us as its centre. How great is that?

Samurai Blue bow out

2010-06-30T01:41:00.001-07:00

Bitter disappointment last night at the Beerhound residence as Japan were so narrowly defeated by Paraguay. The end – by penalties – was especially difficult to cope with, coming as it did after such a hard-fought battle. Japan came close to scoring a couple of times – one blinding strike rattling off the crossbar just inches from its target.

But disappointed as the country is, I think it’s fair to say the team acquitted themselves admirably well and have shown amazing progress since the last World Cup. Maybe next time…

But in the meantime, both I and Big M will be wearing our new Japan shirts with heads held high. Unlike England fans, of course, who I’m sure will be only to willing to try and put England’s humiliation behind them. How I feel sorry for anyone that got stitched-up purchasing the vastly overpriced England strip.

No explanation necessary….

2010-06-28T17:29:00.001-07:00

Overpriced, overrated and sub-standard – and that’s just the shirt!

2010-06-28T05:45:00.001-07:00

Your humble scribe is feeling a little jaded today after staying up late to watch England play Germany. I wish I hadn’t bothered. What an absolute farce. As I watched our team taken apart with skill and precision by Germany, I came to ponder just how much England’s performance – both on and off the pitch – has come to reflect the spirit of the age. What I’m talking about is the last 13 year’s national obsession with appearance in preference to substance; to spin over actual performance. As a country we seem to have become used to paying over the top for fourth-rate goods and services. From extortionate train tickets prices, rip-off taxation, useless call centres, appalling customer service, mindless bureaucracy – the poor British public has been forced to accept plummeting standards, while all the time choking on the endless bullshit spouting from cheesy-grinning government ministers and over-chummy corporate talking heads telling us how great everything is. We’ve got used to hearing what good value we are getting, how much better life is now and how they are worth every penny they’re ripping out of our poor little hands. There can be no greater example of this than our pampered, overpaid, arrogant, ignorant and ultimately useless national team.

Two things really bought this home to me: The first was Rooney’s outburst after the last England match where he complained about being booed by the England fans. The arrogance was extraordinary: Ignoring the fact that the performance was a disgrace, Rooney seemed unable to appreciate that not everyone in the country earns £90,000 a week. The trip to South Africa was clearly a major expense for the majority of England fans that came to cheer the side on. They had every right to feel disgruntled over being served-up such a lack-lustre performance. But not, it seems, to express their dismay.

The second incident was when your humble scribe ventured forth to purchase a Japan shirt in advance of Tuesday’s match against Paraguay. The local sports shop has a fine selection of kit from every team in the contest. Having bagged my Samurai Blue shirt, I thought I’d take a look at the new England strip. Much as I love my trusty 2004 away shirt and 2005 home shirt, it’s always nice to have the latest kit. But on closer inspection, I decided I wouldn’t bother.

The England away shirt looked like something out of Primark’s bargain bin: A cheap cotton T-shirt with a amateur-looking Three Lions badge stuck on the front. Absolute rubbish. That was bad enough, but when I saw the price I nearly fainted: 14,000 Yen (that’s about "£100) for a shirt that looked like it cost about a pound to make. I compared it against all the other country strips there: Every other country – including Japan – was 10,000 Yen (£70) or under. Plus the fact, they looked like quality shirts… hi-tech fabric, embroidered badges etc. not like something straight out of a backstreet Malaysian sweatshop.

Then of course we have to endure the tired old clichés being trotted out again: World Cup 1966, the Blitz, Spitfires over the White Cliffs ad nauseam. I am as proud of my country as anyone, but I wish we could move on from past glories. From the outside, it looks so utterly childish and moronic to still be trying to taunt the Germans about the war or clinging onto events of 40 years ago as evidence of our continuing greatness as a world power. Germany’s well-deserved victory has really exposed the gap between belief and reality. It seems to me that the sooner we stop deluding ourselves, the sooner we start booing those that fail to deliver what they’re paid vast sums of money for; the sooner we reject being sold worthless shit for insane prices, the sooner we can actually start back down the road to having a team – and a country – we can be proud of.

A dream come true – in more ways than one

2010-06-20T06:10:00.001-07:00

Today is Father’s Day across the world. In my family, that means one thing – a great excuse for the girls to visit their favourite local cake shop Ates Souhaite (“Your dream come true”) to obtain one of their fantastic creations. I am not a great fan of sweets and desserts, but even I get quite excited by the prospect of tucking onto one of their exquisite cakes – not only outrageously delicious but an absolute treat for the eyes as well.

Today’s offering was no exception – a fantastic pistachio and chocolate delight that exploded with flavour and richness.

But all that paled into insignificance compared to the small chocolate heart-shaped message perched on top. The message reads: “Dear father – thank you always”. As a stepfather, I can’t really describe how touched I am by the deliberate choice of those particular words, as opposed to just my name or some other term of endearment. I love my stepdaughters just as dearly as if they were my own flesh and blood. To have them acknowledge that is the most wonderful thing for me; how fitting that one of Ates Souhaites’ cakes should literally become my own “dream come true”.

You’re ‘kin nicked, me old china

2010-06-17T22:50:00.001-07:00

I have just completed my first patrol as a member of the Bouhan Patrol – the crack law enforcement unit charged with the onerous responsibility of maintaining order on the mean streets of Shoan. And I must say, for a first day out it was pretty satisfying. Although I didn’t get to write out any tickets or anything, I managed to glare at a couple of taxi drivers and issue a formal warning to a cat, who I believed to be loitering with intent to have a poo in someone’s borders. Bastard,

Naturally, my reprimands are pretty much confined to the four-legged denizens of the ‘hood at the moment because of the language difficulties. But it’s early days and I feel I’ve made a good start. The residents of Shoan can sleep a little sounder in their beds knowing that Fido and his miscreant chums will think twice about slashing-up lampposts or leaving flower bed messages in my manor.

A fragile haven of peace and tranquility

2010-06-13T20:26:00.001-07:00

We have just returned from our family trip to Karuizawa in Nagano prefecture. Thankfully, nearby Mt. Asama behaved itself and we didn’t all get blasted to bits by a volcanic eruption.

The main reason for the trip was Y-chan’s piano recital at Karuizawa’a famous Ohga Hall, shown here at dusk. The concert went pretty well and Y-chan acquitted herself admirably in the ivory tickling department. The hall is a fantastic venue for music – its specially designed pentagonal auditorium has superb acoustics and the Steinway grand piano, which Y-chan played so expertly, sounded absolutely wonderful.

The hall itself is beautiful, made entirely from wood. Part of the secret of the hall’s acoustics is the fact that the walls are lined with pine needles from the forests that surround the town. And therein lies the essence of Karuizawa’s undeniable charm – a rather cultured little community nestling amongst some of the most breathtaking scenery Mother Nature can provide.

Somewhat surprisingly, the town owes a great deal of its history to foreigners. Canadian missionary Alexander Croft Shaw is widely credited as the founding father of the community, having introduced it to fellow missionaries as a summer retreat from the heat and humidity of Tokyo in about 1886. This Christian influence can still be seen today in the many churches and chapels that are dotted around the town. As we browsed through a local shop that had reprints of old photographs from the area, I was very surprised to see pictures of Victorian ladies on bicycles and photographs of picnics that could have been taken in Surrey. Given the lush, cool beauty of the forests that surround the town, it’s no surprise that the town became a popular resort – as this rather fine example of Meiji-period architecture shows. The beautiful surroundings continue to draw people here from all over the world.

Today’s visitor tend to be either tourists or people that have summer holiday homes here. And there are a lot of them.

Here’s a typical summer house. This particular one holds special memories for Big M. When she first started work as a kindergarten teacher, so many parents had summer houses here that the entire kindergarten decamped here for the summer months. This was the house she stayed at. This was her first real taste of independence, and clearly a time of happy memories as she described buzzing around the town on her scooter. We hired a couple of bikes from the hotel where we were staying and spent a lovely afternoon cycling through the woods and the town. Although she hasn’t been here for over 20 years, she has vivid memories of the town, and our journey was punctuated many times by Big M stopping and pointing out a favourite bar, shop or restaurant from her youth.

After exploring the town on two wheels, we gradually worked our back down the hill from the town, meandering through leafy lanes and grassy glades. Eventually we came upon one of the famous sights of Karuizawa, the Kumoba pond. Nicknamed “Swan Lake” for its mirror-like surface, it’s an absolutely beautiful spot, teeming with wild birds, fish and even the occasional bear!

And what about the troublesome neighbour? I personally found it hard to get my head around how such beautiful surrounding could also be so vulnerable. You can’t see Mt Asama from the woods, but as you descend to the valley floor below the town, there is no mistaking its brooding presence just a couple of kilometers away – a sleeping monster that could unleash terrible destruction on this verdant paradise at any time. As indeed it has many times in the past. But this is nature’s way – and, quite interestingly, it is ironic that a town founded by Christians, with their core beliefs in eternal permanency, is built in a landscape that is so volatile.

Beautiful location – shame about the neighbour

2010-06-09T07:48:00.001-07:00

This weekend we are off to the picturesque and – according to Wikipedia –upscale mountain resort of Karuizawa in Nagano prefecture. The occasion is a piano concert featuring our very own Y chan, to be held in a proper concert hall in the town. It’s something we’ve all been looking forward to for some time. Apart from the concert, Y Chan is looking forward to hitting one of the many outlets in the area in the hope of securing some good bargains. Y-chan’s boyfriend S-chan (as he is known “in-house”) will be accompanying us, so it will be a good opportunity to get to know him a bit more. Whereas I and Big M are basically looking forward to a night away, eating, drinking something different and maybe a long soak in a local onsen, such as shown here. Fantastic. I’m also looking forward to a long drive and the opportunity to see something more of rural Japan.

Looks great doesn’t it? This was how the trip was explained to me – beautiful scenery, fresh mountain air, upmarket shops and restaurants, Y Chan’s triumphant piano recital and the opportunity to partake of new and exciting comestibles of both the culinary and alcoholic kind in the company of the most delightful people in the world. Wonderful.

Funny how they forgot to mention one small detail…

Karuizawa is located right next to Mt Asama – the most active volcano on the main island of Japan. I only discovered this last week, and I must say I was a bit disturbed to discover we’d be sharing our weekend away with this fiery monster, which last erupted just a year ago. When I mentioned it to Big M she said casually, “Oh yeah there is that.”

“Is it safe?” I demanded. “Of course,” she said, adding under her breath, “Probably”.

Bloody hell. She really has missed her vocation as an estate agent

Now – as mentioned before here – I am terrified of volcanoes. As a Brit, I am woefully emotionally underequipped to deal with the full force of nature’s fiery fury and the prospect of getting closer than a hundred miles to one of these primordial hellholes fills me with dread. For comfort, I decided to go and look at the official town website, reasoning that they were certainly the best placed to advise on the current situation locally vis-a-vis the aforementioned harbinger of fiery doom. What I found didn’t exactly fill me with confidence:

IN CASE OF AN ERUPTION BEGINNING
Considering the past cases, unless the eruption is an especially large scale eruption, the damage to houses would be relatively minimal. However, we should always be on the alert for small ash deposits and volcanic ash fallout, and a possible earthquake may occur.

In 1783, Asama erupted unexpectedly killing thousands. Presumably this is what they refer to as “an especially large scale eruption”. So what they are saying is – all those times that Asama hasn’t completely blown its top, you’ll probably be ok. The inference being that you probably won’t be if it decides to properly let rip.

●When the eruption begins

1.
Listen to the TV, Radio, town's loudspeaker van, radio transmitted by the disaster prevention section.

Can’t help thinking I’d be more focused on running for my life at this point.

2.
Do not rush outside. It may be dangerous as volcanic ash and rock may fall.

Oh ok – so I should stay inside my wooden, highly inflammable house then? Bollocks – I’m off!

3.
When there are evacuation instructions, follow the orders immediately.

…Or try to keep up with me as I shall be redefining the phrase “Getting the fuck outta here”

4.
Remain calm when evacuating and give priority to the elderly, handicapped people and children.

I shall be maintaining a high state of panic, concentrating mainly on getting our collective arses out of harms way as quickly as possible. And I’ll probably be screaming a lot too.

5.
When going outside, wear a helmet, mask or goggles to protect yourself.

Oh right – of course; the helmet and goggles that I carry around with me for just such a situation.

Clearly getting away from the area is going to be the smart move, and the town has some helpful advice on that as well:

●EVACUATION DIRECTIONS
1. Move away from Mt. Asama.

2.Avoid being downwind as much as possible.

Well, nothing to worry about there, then – they’ve clearly got the escape plan all sorted out.

So my attention turned to what portents of doom to look out for. Here too, the town has some helpful advice.

(1)Make a habit of checking for smoke from Mt. Asama
Check to see if the smoke smells sulphurous, if there is any colour in the smoke, and if the amount of smoke has increased.

Also, watch out for great fountains of white hot lava, which are often a telltale sign that something is amiss.

(2)Hang a curtain on the windows facing north
In 1958 when the large eruption occurred, the glass was destroyed due to aerial vibration. Try to reduce the damage by hanging a curtain or replace the glass with a mesh glass.

For “Aerial vibration” – read “Catastrophic explosion”

(3)Prepare emergency supplies
When evacuating due to a volcanic eruption, helmet, mask and goggles will protect you.

…although not as much as being 200 fucking miles away will

(4)Be on the alert for urgent and pre-warning notices on volcanic activities When the number of volcanic earthquakes increases, “The pre-warning notices on volcanic activities” and “The urgent notices on volcanic activities” will be announced. These notices will not necessarily mean that an eruption will occur immediately, however please remain calm and be on the alert.

While these announcements may not mean that an eruption will occur immediately, they will mean that your humble scribe will be streaking across Japan like a bat out of hell for the relative safety of Shoan – concert or no concert.

‘ello, ‘ello, ‘ello - 何が、ここでありますか？

2010-06-05T01:05:00.001-07:00

Your humble scribe has been gripped with a sudden and unexplained surge of civic responsibility. The net result of which is that – and I don’t know quite how it happened - I appear to have joined the local police.

Or more accurately, the local neighbourhood patrol volunteers. A note came through the door the other day that they were looking for more volunteers to patrol the local streets, and there was a meeting with free lunch on Saturday. I just mentioned to Big M that it might be a laugh to join up. The next thing I know – it’s all arranged and I’ve been issued with a pass, a Hi-Vis vest and hat and packed off on my rounds.

The duties don’t actually seem that arduous, and appear to consist mainly of walking the streets peering into people’s gardens and commenting how lovely their roses are. As most of the other volunteers are about 90, our “beat” is about half a mile in duration. So from now on, every Saturday afternoon at 3pm (weather permitting) I shall be patrolling the mean streets of Shoan with my crack unit of retired bus drivers and old ladies. The fact that I can’t understand a bloody word anyone is saying doesn’t appear to have phased them at all. Presumably, having someone my size on the team might help should we run into trouble. But having now been privy to the latest crime stats from the area, I think the chances of that happening are quite remote.

In Shoan this year so far, there have been a total of – wait for it – 18 crimes. 17 of those were bicycle thefts. Generally speaking, the level of crime here is low, even by Japanese standards, so I shan’t be losing too much sleep about putting my life on the line in the pursuit of justice. The idea of the patrol is that by maintaining a high visibility, criminals will be deterred from descending on our sleepy little neighbourhood. And I’m sure that’s exactly what would happen, should they decide to start their crime spree between 3 and 4pm on a Saturday afternoon, if it’s not raining. I can’t help wondering if, even as we speak, some criminal mastermind hatching a cunning plot to turn up on a Friday and catch us all napping.

Frivolities aside, there is a serious side to all this. I’m actually very keen to do more to become part of the local community. I really do like it here and I think it’s nice to get involved (how very British). Making good contacts locally has also got to be good news, not to mention maintaining good relations with the local police - a smart move in a country where foreigners are still regarded with a great deal of suspicion. Should I end up in trouble, I stand a much better chance of being treated well if I’m known to be an upstanding(ish) citizen. Plus, there’s almost certain to be some drinking involved at some stage as very little happens here without an alcoholic component.

But the funniest part of all is that Big M came along to the meeting just to translate for me, but she’s ended up being drafted herself. She’s not happy and that’s made it all the funnier. The best part is she explained to me “If something happens, even the middle of the night they will call you.” To which I replied “Hmm don’t think so – I gave them your mobile number. Try not to wake me when you leave.” That went down like a steel band at a KKK wedding. Happy days.

A moment of clarity

2010-05-24T21:59:00.001-07:00

I am presently going through one of those revelatory periods in my iaido practice where some small insight into the deeper significance of the art has become clear to me. This has come at the end of a reasonably despondent period of training where I don’t seem to have made any progress at all. After all the disappointment of failing 3rd Dan, I really felt down about the whole thing.

The reason I felt I didn’t do well was related to a lack of practice – of course – but also to a sense that my ki (spirit) just wasn’t strong enough. In the dojo, it’s easy to kid yourself you are better than you really are; it’s not until you are in front of the unwavering scrutiny of a panel of 8th Dan masters that you really find out how good your techniques are. It is very stressful, and that stress manifests itself as tension, which in turn robs you of speed, power and fluidity. In a weird way, it’s like the ki is being sucked out of you leaving your cuts weak and your movements slow and clumsy. And it’s the same in competitions as well. This is what I have felt has let me down many times in the past – not the knowledge of the technique but the strength of spirit to be able to carry it though under stressful conditions. This is the very essence of any martial art – without the will to carry through your attack, all technical proficiency is pointless.

It was this weakness of spirit that denied me 3rd Dan, and rightly so. The question was, what to do about it. I considered that perhaps what I needed was a period of more physical training involving actual combat. A return to this kind of environment, I reasoned, would help to rediscover a more aggressive fighting spirit. However my plans to start kendo were comprehensively poo-pooed by my teacher, who suggested that if I have time to study kendo, I’d be better-off training for my 3rd Dan re-test. She had a point.

But suddenly, just last week, I suddenly had a eureka moment. I can’t describe in words what I mean, other than to say that it suddenly became clear that I had been concentrating on the wrong thing. Rather than obsessive focus on perfecting technique, the mind should be almost entirely on the act of engagement with your enemy. This had been described to me before by a 5th Dan colleague in the dojo, and I thought I understood at the time, but now I can see I didn’t really get it. Furthermore, this mind has to be carried with you at all times, and in all things. If you can maintain this mind, then suddenly everything drops into place. At last week’s practice, I decided that I would practice with this in mind. The results were spectacular – smooth, co-ordinated strikes with dramatically improved power.

I have since re-read a translation of a book written in about 1630 by a famous samurai Lord called Yagya Tajimanokami Munenori, called the Heiho Kadensho. In it, is the following passage that describes in amazing accuracy what I have just come to realise.

The books of Confucius are thought of as a gate to those who devote their mind to learning. What is a gate? A gate is the entrance to a house. Only by going through the gate can one meet the master of the house. Learning, for example, is the gate to truth. Only by going through the gate can you obtain truth. Opening the gate should not be mistaken for having entered the house, for the house lies beyond the gate. (my italics)

The gate in question is my iaido technique. I can see now that learning the technique is merely a means to an end. Seems obvious now. But I feel that with that knowledge I can perhaps start to make progress on the path towards what is waiting in the house for me.

Festival time in Nishiogi

2010-05-22T20:54:00.001-07:00

This weekend there are festivities happening in our local town centre, Nishi Ogikubo. There doesn’t appear to be anything particularly significant about the date – I think it’s more of an early Summer shopping festival run by the local chamber of commerce. But it doesn’t take much for the locals to get into the festival spirit and any excuse for a parade is usually eagerly grasped. We went along to have a look yesterday evening and to watch the matsuri parade around the main streets near the station. As to be expected, it was a colourful and noisy affair – made even more fun by the presence of a couple of mounted samurai warriors. Not quite sure of the significance, but I must say, they looked very impressive.

On paper, Nishi Ogikubo is a fairly non-descript urban suburb on the western fringes of Tokyo. At first there doesn’t seem that much here to write home about. But over the last couple of years I have grown to really love this area like an old friend. Even Big M, who is normally rather cynical about these things, has to admit a real soft-spot for Nishi. Charming is perhaps not the right word to describe it, but it certainly has a real vibrancy and character that illicits a real feeling of affection. Although not as well-to-do as some of its neighbouring districts, it is a comfortable, relaxed area to live.

And did I mention?…full of characters who are as equally charming and colourful. Not to mention just a teeny bit mad (in the nicest possible way!)

Doubting Thomas gets twatted

2010-05-17T22:42:00.001-07:00

Fresh from the “That’d never work in real life” school of martial arts scepticism, this reporter decided to pit himself against an 8th Dan iaido sensei in a direct stand-off. After having witnessed iaido competition and training, which is always carried out solo (for obvious reasons – it’s a real bloody sword!), our hero has clearly formed the opinion that it’s just a load of wannabe samurai waving swords around. Watch as his attitude is swiftly – and painfully – corrected. To be fair, he’s not an idiot and I suspect his “attitude” was really more for the camera’s benefit. But a salutary lesson none the less.

Nihongo wa totemo musokashii desu ne?

2010-05-14T08:18:00.001-07:00

Your humble scribe has just returned from his twice-weekly humiliation at Japanese class. Tonight was a particularly taxing session after the recent holidays and I found myself in one of those classes where I am so completely out of my depth that it just becomes a meaningless exercise. Most of the time I am ok; I don’t understand everything that’s going on but if I can get a hook on the topic of conversation, I can usually take an educated guess and I’m usually not far wrong. But then there are nights – like tonight – where there are no straws within grasp and I really flounder.

The problem is that Japanese actually contains many languages within one. In English we tend to have “posh” words and “common” words for many things, but verbs tend to stay the same. The difference between “common” and “posh” is dramatically different here; in the UK, use the wrong word and people might think you’re a bit thick. In Japan, you can be ostracised forever for using the wrong terms of speech. It’s serious stuff.

In Japanese, there are not just different words for levels of politeness but entirely different verbs and terms of speech. This makes Japanese as it is spoken between friends a radically different language to that learned in most courses. In practice, what this means is that entire conversations can whizz past without you hearing any recognisable words that you can latch onto for reference. It’s very difficult.

But it is worth the effort because slowly…slowly, comes familiarity and understanding. I understand far more about what is happening around me than I did a year ago, so slow though it may be, there is progress. I am absolutely determined to be able to speak another language passably well. There is something so extremely cool about bilingual people – most of the gaijin (foreigners) I know here can speak reasonable Japanese and I always feel like a total chump in their company. It might take me a while, but I feel sure I’ll get there eventually.

What a difference a day makes

2010-05-12T19:43:00.001-07:00

Well, it seems the BH panic was a little premature and everything seems to have turned out ok at Number 10. Yet, I fear the whole Nick Clegg wobble affair has revealed something of his true character and intentions. DC would do well to keep a close eye on that one.

But for all the drama, let’s not forget the real good news – Brown and all his cronies have gone from power. And with any luck, Labour is now about to be torn-apart by bickering and in-fighting for the leadership. If our luck holds, that should give DC and Cleggy a chance to get going on the problems facing the country without being distracted by the constant whining from the opposition about how they didn’t really lose…yeah right.

Twists and turns on the road to ruin

2010-05-11T02:58:00.001-07:00

Well, I never thought that I would be anything less than overjoyed to hear that Brown had got the hint at last and slung his hook. But it has come to pass; it looks like the slimy toad has managed to hang onto power after all with the help of the even more slimy Nick Clegg. I am – frankly – gobsmacked that anyone would have the sheer brass neck to state publicly their intention to act in the national interest, and then take exactly the opposite path. The sheer treachery of it is truly jaw-dropping.

Now with the markets in predictable flight away from Sterling, I truly believe we are witnessing the final months of the UK as an independent sovereign state. After revealing himself to be nothing more than a duplicitous snake-in-the-grass, Cameron cannot seriously contemplate having anything to do with the Yellow Peril. That leaves no other option than the eventual implosion of the country as England is financially ransacked by the EU, and by the national assemblies of Scotland and Wales in the inevitable deal to keep the “traffic light” government together. What future awaits the country I can only guess. A terrible day.

Hung parliament? Not a bad idea

2010-05-09T23:13:00.001-07:00

“I don’t think a hung parliament is a bad idea…who should we start with?” So said an unknown but pithy commentator on the recent UK elections. I think that comment sums up the mood of the country better than any post-election analysis. Your humble scribe couldn’t concentrate too much on work matters last Friday for following the unfolding drama online. And in the end – as you will no doubt be aware - the result was pretty much as many had been speculating'; a parliament where no one party achieved an overall majority and thus a clear mandate to govern.

As the final returns trickled in, a certain pall of gloom settled over Chateau Beerhound as I contemplated the fact that after the dust had settled, the incumbent first minister remained in residence at Number 10. I was disappointed – actually bitterly so – that a party I regard as having done so much damage to my country, and a PM that I so utterly despise, remained with their hands gripping on the reins of power. Albeit slightly less firmly than before. From there, it is all to easy to start blaming the opposition for their woeful inability to land a glove on what has got to be the worst government in modern British history. But then I got to thinking about it a bit more, and I realised that perhaps the good old British people had got the result they really wanted: to shake-up Westminster and put all MPs on notice that they are very definitely in probatio for the foreseeable future.

I think most people are heartily sick of the bureaucracy and political correctness; of endless rules and regulations, initiatives, spin, spiralling taxes and deteriorating services. And yet, after the expenses scandal, who do they turn to in an effort to sort it out? While Labour are completely discredited to all but the staunchest supporters, the Conservatives under Cameron would appear to promise little alternative if given the chance to rule. The Lib Dems make nice noises but appear to many to be strong on idealistic rhetoric but unable to delivery in the real world. The alternatives are too cranky or too small to offer any kind of credibility. And yet – almost magically - the British people appear to be heading for possibly the best solution in a difficult situation - an alliance between Cameron & Clegg.

To my mind, this has certain advantages. 1) Labour, and particular Brown, are out of office and will hopefully be so consumed in such bitter in-fighting over the next few years that they will remain so for a long time to come. 2) Cameron gets to try and implement his Big Society idea, but through a tenuous majority that means they’ll have to tread slowly and carefully, and they’ll have to bring a lot of people along with them rather than steamrolling through legislation. 3) Politicians of all hues are made keenly aware that none of them has the unequivocal backing of the people to rule and that the people will not tolerate more mistakes and hypocrisy at the top.

Lows, highs and my eternal gratitude for both

2010-04-30T09:39:00.001-07:00

Well, at the risk of tempting fate, we’re still here despite the mass exodus of oarfish. Although regular visitors might be forgiven for thinking otherwise given the shameful lack of recent posts, for which I can only apologise.

I’d love to be able to explain the aforementioned post drought on work pressures or thrilling adventures being had in far flung corners of the globe. But the truth is – I haven’t really been motivated to sit down and pontificate much of late. After the chaos of Europe and the UK at the beginning of the year, I’ve been enjoying just bumbling around the house with the toolbox and doing something other than sitting in front of the PC. But that’s not to say I’ve been idle. Oh no. There’s been plenty going on in Shoan Nichome, as I shall now relate.

Firstly, Little M started at University. We went along to the matriculation ceremony at the beginning of April. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting. As we were ushered into a lecture theatre to watch a video of the proceedings on a big screen, I had a suspicion that this probably wouldn’t turn out to be the most exciting experience of my life. And so it transpired. Nevertheless, I was as proud as punch of Little M and her achievements, and very grateful to have had the opportunity to have played a small part in helping her get to where she is. Incidentally, Princess Maki is a classmate of Little M – who knows…maybe an invite to the Imperial Palace might be forthcoming after all.

The big disappointment was your humble scribe failing to achieve 3rd dan in iaido. To be honest, I didn’t deserve it and it’s a good thing that I didn’t get it. I’ve never failed a martial arts grading in 30 years of training, so perhaps it was a lesson I needed to learn. In any event, it has kicked me out of my complacency and made me more determined to practice hard for the next chance in September. My resolve was given a boost by winning in my class at the Tokyo area championships a couple of weeks ago. Nobody was more shocked than me, but I finally hit gold in Japan. It’s not like winning an Olympic gold or anything like that, and actually it really doesn’t mean anything. But I’m secretly bloody chuffed that not only have I had the chance to train in Japan but I’ve actually beaten Japanese in straight competition. Amazing. The nervous little 10 year old that started karate in Lochaber Road church hall in south London would never have dreamed that the path he was starting would lead so far.

Next week marks the 6th anniversary of the “official” start of my relationship with Big M. We’ve been talking a lot about that week and it is still so fresh in my mind I can almost feel the gentle Pacific breeze as we walked hand-in-hand along the harbour wall in Kamakura. I can see her dear face sheltered under an umbrella as we dodged Spring showers between our numerous forays to various restaurants, shrines,temples and bars (not necessarily in that order!) It was a magical time. I won’t go into details, but I will say this: If anybody ever tells you love isn’t real, don’t believe them. Love is as real, as powerful and as glorious as all the poems and songs say it is. Most people never get to experience it the way I have – and I am truly and daily grateful for that.

Anyway – it’s 1.30am and the shochu is slipping down far too easily as I write so it’s probably time to call it a night. I won’t leave it so long next time!

Oh shit!

2010-03-04T01:14:00.001-08:00

Oarfish omen spells earthquake disaster for Japan

Japan is bracing itself after dozens of rare giant oarfish - traditionally the harbinger of a powerful earthquake - have been washed ashore or caught in fishermen's nets.

By Julian Ryall in Tokyo
Published: 7:00AM GMT 04 Mar 2010

The giant oarfish can grow up to five metres in length and is usually to be found at depths of 1,000 metres

The appearance of the fish follows Saturday's destructive 8.8 magnitude earthquake in Chile and the January 12 tremors in Haiti, which claimed an estimated 200,000 lives.

A quake with a magnitude of 6.4 has also struck southern Taiwan.

This rash of tectonic movements around the Pacific "Rim of Fire" is heightening concern that Japan - the most earthquake-prone country in the world - is next in line for a major earthquake.

Those concerns have been stoked by the unexplained appearance of a fish that is known traditionally as the Messenger from the Sea God's Palace.

The giant oarfish can grow up to five metres in length and is usually to be found at depths of 1,000 metres and very rarely above 200 metres from the surface. Long and slender with a dorsal fin the length of its body, the oarfish resembles a snake.

In recent weeks, 10 specimens have been found either washed ashore or in fishing nets off Ishikawa Prefecture, half-a-dozen have been caught in nets off Toyama Prefecture and others have been reported in Kyoto, Shimane and Nagasaki prefectures, all on the northern coast.

BH: Incorrect – Nagasaki, Kyoto are in the far south

According to traditional Japanese lore, the fish rise to the surface and beach themselves to warn of an impending earthquake - and there are scientific theories that bottom-dwelling fish may very well be susceptible to movements in seismic fault lines and act in uncharacteristic ways in advance of an earthquake - but experts here are placing more faith in their constant high-tech monitoring of the tectonic plates beneath the surface.

"In ancient times Japanese people believed that fish warned of coming earthquakes, particularly catfish," Hiroshi Tajihi, deputy director of the Kobe Earthquake Centre, told the Daily Telegraph.

"But these are just old superstitions and there is no scientific relationship between these sightings and an earthquake," he said.

BH: Didn’t Michael Fish say something similar back in ‘87?

Oarfish omen spells earthquake disaster for Japan - Telegraph

Time to Replace the Chapel window?

2010-01-26T01:34:00.001-08:00

Probably seemed like a good design at the time . . . .

Relaxation and reflection

2010-01-21T12:02:00.000-08:00

I am sitting in the rather agreeable bar of the George Hotel in Rye. I haven’t been here for 15 years at least. In fact the last recollection I have of this place was coming here with my father, so that must be over 15 years ago.

Needless to say its changed quite a bit since then. Not least in its selection of beers; hello lovely Leffe !

It sure has changed a lot since the last time I was here. The world has changed a lot; I have changed a lot. It’s strange coming back to a town that holds so many bad memories. Even though the faces and the scenery might have changed, this is still a place I associate with the worst period in my life. There are ghosts here that no stylish makeovers can ever truly exorcise and no matter how tasteful or up-market places like the George become, there will always be a grey pall of gloom hanging over this town as far as I’m concerned.

I will forever associate Rye with failure; once upon a time, your humble scribe had a proper job working for a proper company, with all the benefits that entailed: Big house, expensive car, high disposable income etc. Life was stressful, and sometimes difficult, but generally good. For a while. Then it all started to unravel. First, a messy and very destructive divorce. Next, within 12 months, my company went bust. And, after struggling to find work for many months, so did I. I lost everything. I ended up here in Rye. Washed out and with my self-esteem in total tatters. For a while, I lost the plot here – something that’s very easy to do in a town that consists almost entirely of alcoholic losers. I existed here a few months before my instincts for self-preservation kicked-in and I realised I had to get out and start rebuilding a life again. The rest, as they say, is history. But even though life now is good – in every respect far better than before the “crash” - I can’t come back here without feeling tainted and depressed by the bitter curse of those dark few months. Regret for the bad decisions I made; Hatred for the losers and wasters that beguiled me into wasting so much precious time and resources following the wrong path. It’s not Rye’s fault, of course. The blame lies entirely at my feet. I should have been stronger. But Rye rubs my face in my own failure every time I come here and I still have a hard time dealing with my own fragility in this regard.

15 years ago, The George Hotel was once quite the den of iniquity for the local lushes, all of whom were banished when the walls were knocked down and the designers bought in to create the George as it exists today. Maybe I should do likewise with my soul: take the time to properly demolish and refurbish the dark corners that still lurk in my psyche from those black days. Perhaps with the right lighting, those dark corners will turn out to have been not so dark and dingy after all.

Tokyo Dome Matsuri – a treat for the senses

2010-01-09T03:39:00.001-08:00

Apologies for the delay in writing some words to go with the picture shown here. While it is very easy to upload pics directly to this blog – especially with my wonderful new phone – writing the copy to go with it takes a bit longer.

Anyway – I can finally reveal that the picture was taken at this weekend’s Tokyo Dome Matsuri, that took place at, er, the Tokyo Dome. In Tokyo.

What’s a Matsuri I hear you ask? Good question.

All regions of Japan, and often individual districts and city wards, have their own matsuri – a local festival to mark the passage of the year. Every matsuri has its own traditions, often hundreds of years old. Likewise, every region of Japan has its own epicurean specialities – food, drink, arts and crafts. Some bright spark thought it might be a good idea to weave this whole cultural tapestry together into a single event and so the Tokyo Dome Matsuri was born. Basically, it’s a 4 day festival of Japanese folk traditions combined with an exhibition of regional food and drink from all over the country. In short - a brilliantly vivid and intense slice of Nihon no bunka – Japanese culture.

This weekend was my last weekend in Japan for a while as I am headed back to the UK this week on business. Consequently, Big M and I wanted to do something a bit different. We’d heard about the matsuri from our friends A and Y, and we headed over to Suidobashi almost on the spur of the moment. Boy, what a fun afternoon.

The first think that struck us was – it’s massive! When we arrived, there was a folk dance in full swing in the main arena. Behind that were crammed hundred of stalls selling every imaginable kind of produce.

From Hokkaido we saw stalls selling kani – snow crabs that can grow to huge dimensions. These are small ones!

Also from Hokkaido was ice cream, cheese and other dairy products. From Kyushu we saw dried fruits and wonderful cakes and pastries. We bought some spices and feasted on fantastic yakisoba and donburi dishes from all over the place.

Last but not least, was the local beer. It’s not often you get to drink anything but the mass produced stuff like Kirin or Asahi. But some of the “real beers” being produced in Japan are as good as anything you’ll find anywhere in Europe. I am resolved to try and track down a few of these breweries upon my return in a few weeks.

So, a fantastic day and some really nice memories to keep my spirits up over the next couple of weeks. To say I am not looking forward to returning to the UK would be a considerable understatement. If it wasn’t for the weather I think I could tolerate the prospect, but after such a hellish experience in the snow last year, the prospect of a re-run is filling me with dread. My brother in law joked that his friends refer to him as “the banana” – yellow on the outside but white on the inside. By the same reckoning, I think my nickname should be “Tamago” (Egg).

A decade of shame

2010-01-05T18:36:00.001-08:00

I personally believe that politics, like religion, should be ones own affair. Consequently, I made a conscious decision some time ago to keep whatever frustration and anger I felt about the present UK administration out of this blog. However, as we enter a new decade – and particularly as we enter what will be an election year – I feel it is worth reflecting on the record of this government in office. The article below was published in the Telegraph.

All governments get into scrapes, make mistakes, let people down – that’s the nature of politics. But it’s hard to think of any government in recent memory that has behaved quite so shamefully, quite so frequently, as this one. At the turn of the decade, here’s a reminder of just how low Labour has stooped.

1. Tony Blair led the country to war on the basis of a lie – the 45-minute dossier was a disgraceful manipulation of some very sketchy intelligence. More than 200 soldiers have been killed, a similar number grievously wounded, while tens of thousands of Iraqi civilians have lost their lives.

2. The suicide of Dr David Kelly after he had been exposed by Downing Street as the source of leaks to the BBC about the soundness of weapons intelligence (see above). The most nauseating moment in this episode came courtesy of Alastair Campbell, an unelected Labour functionary, who summoned a press conference to crow over the findings of the Hutton inquiry into Kelly’s death which inexplicably decided it was all the BBC’s fault.

3. Tony Blair’s warmongering extended beyond Iraq – there was Kosovo, Sierra Leone, Afghanistan – but a common theme was that British forces were routinely expected to put their lives on the line with inadequate kit and equipment. Much of the responsibility for that lies with Gordon Brown who, as Chancellor, just did not “get” the military.

4. Brown’s uncontested accession to the premiership – after years spent undermining Blair – revealed just how rotten Labour had become. This was more akin to the Politburo than a modern democratic party. The one consolation is that it has proved an unmitigated disaster for Labour.

5. While Chancellor, Brown perfected a whole armoury of tricks to obscure what he was actually doing – double and triple counting, endless re-announcements of the same policy, stealth taxes by the score. So intent was he on his smoke and mirrors games that he seemed not to notice he was sending the economy down the tubes.

6. Bernie Ecclestone’s £1 million donation to Labour was an early indicator that Labour’s moral compass was non-existent and that Blair’s claim to be a “pretty straight kind of guy” was to be taken with a sackful of salt.

7. Parliament under Labour has been utterly marginalised. Both Blair and Brown have treated the Commons with contempt and we now have the weakest (as well as most dishonest) legislature in memory.

8. Labour’s failure even to attempt to control immigration has led to profound changes in this country that people did not want. Yet any attempt to debate the issue was branded racist by Labour – until it finally dawned on them (far too late) that their own supporters were furious about the changing nature of their communities.

9. A spending binge without precedent in this country’s history has delivered the most paltry improvements in the public services. A great opportunity to modernise Britain has simply been frittered away.

10. Labour’s Big Brother intrusiveness into all aspects of our lives is without precedent outside communist or fascist regimes. A government that has trumpeted its commitment to human rights has systematically eroded them.

To this list, we could also add the explosion of violent crime; the destruction of the education system; the miring of enterprise and initiative in miles of red tape; the traitorous signing-away of British sovereignty to the EU; 3000 new criminal offences created with the intention of criminalising decent honest people, while ignoring the activities of the true criminal underclass; fostering the parasitic benefits culture; presiding over the breakup of the normal family values; ….the list goes on.

Although I pray nightly to see Blair, Brown and Campbell swinging from the gibbet for treason and war crimes, if I have one wish for 2010 it is that Labour are not just swept from power, but humiliated at the polls.

Warmed by the prayers of others

2009-12-31T09:18:00.000-08:00

Well, here we are at the end of another year and once again I find myself with the family queuing on a cold and clear night to clang the temple bell of our local shrine and offer a prayer for good fortune in 2010. Afterwards, we are treated to a cup of sake and a plastic mug of hot porridgy stuff and a warm by the fire, shown here.

The fire is more than just a bonfire to warm the hands on. It's traditional at the turn of the year to burn all the good luck charms and decorations from last year. So in a very real sense, we have been warming ourselves on the prayers and hopes of our neighbours, and that knowledge is a very comforting thought.

It seems strange to us to burn the very charms that we hoped would bring us our dreams. Yet, it is another reminder that everything has a right time and place to be. Just like in martial arts, energy that is misplaced or left over-long in a static position usually turns out to be a liability rather than a benefit. I guess it's the same with our prayers and dreams. Just like everything else in nature, they have to live, because to stand still is to die.

To anyone reading this, I hope your dreams and prayers thrive and grow strong in 2010, and my best wishes for everything you hope to be.

Avatar delivers as promised – almost

2009-12-29T01:34:00.001-08:00

After an almost unbearable wait, I finally got to see the much lauded Avatar last night in all its 3D glory. I can’t remember another film I have waited for with such keen interest, and overall it didn’t disappoint. It’s a rollicking good action film with a strong environmental theme and a splash of romance lobbed in to keep the girls happy. But thoroughly enjoyable as it was, I couldn’t help feeling that the epic Cameron has created fell a little way short of being a truly great film.

In a nutshell, Avatar is Aliens 2 on acid; underneath all the pretty colours and weird animals there is the same underlying theme of big-business interests steam-rollering over the lives of individuals in the pursuit of profit. There are the same hard-bitten space marines with their high-tech paraphernalia of future war. And there’s even a familiar face in the shape of Sigourney Weaver. The difference is that in Avatar, the roles of the military and their off-world foes are reversed and it’s the 9ft tall blue skinned Na,avi who are the good guys this time around. Plus, of course, the fact that Avatar is the first major motion picture conceived entirely in 3D puts it into a different league all together.

I saw my first 3D first film in a cinema earlier on this year and I was pretty impressed with the technology. However nothing I have seen thus far comes close to Avatar in terms of its execution. The 3D effect in Avatar is truly stunning, jaw-dropping, game-changing stuff. The opening scene set in a cavernous zero-G space ship barracks gives you a tantalising hint of what’s to come. But it’s not until the hero ventures into the forests of Pandora that you really experience 3D to its full effect. It is not an overstatement to say that you really do feel as if you have been whisked off to some far flung planet teeming with strange flora and fauna and plonked down right in the middle of it - even down to the alien jungle bugs that seem to be buzzing over the heads to the audience a few rows in front. It is absolutely wonderful and combined with the ground-breaking CGI and motion-capture techniques employed, every creature, every tree and plant is 100% believable and totally convincing. So life-like are the main characters, that after a few minutes you have completely accepted the computer generated leading man and lady as real, living creatures. Many critics have hailed Avatar as a landmark in cinema history, and in that respect I would agree 100%. I for one am hugely excited by what other filmmakers will do with this technology.

Where Avatar goes wrong is in the screenplay. I got the feeling that Cameron was trying to cover–up the gaping holes in the plot with 3D wizardry, but not entirely succeeding. The central idea of the film is that the brain of hero, Jake Scully – a paraplegic ex-marine – is linked electronically to a genetically engineered Na’avi/human hybrid which allows him to “drive” the body. Using this artificial body, the characters are able to venture into the world of the Na’avi. Each night, as their Na’avi bodies sleep, consciousness returns to their human bodies. The problem is, as an engineer I couldn’t help but ask myself..how the bloody hell is that supposed to work? There must be a form of communication occurring between the Na’avi avatar and its human driver, but there’s no mention of a radio link or anything like that. This is especially significant as the area in which most of the action takes place is supposed to be flooded with a naturally occurring electromagnetic radiation that would seem to preclude such a comms link. So what’s the deal – telepathy? some weird kind of spiritual transfer? quantum entanglement? None of that is really explained (unlike in the Matrix, for example, where the mechanism is entirely plausible). I know it sounds a bit geeky but it spoilt it a bit for me that they didn’t build a bit more credibility into the technology.

Secondly, the film centres around the conflict arising from the human exploitation of Pandora’s natural resources to the detriment of the indigenous peoples. The resource in question is a mineral that exhibits zero mass when excited by a particular energy field. The heartless company boss fingers a lump of this floating rock thoughtfully while justifying the destruction of the forest and its people. But nobody ever explains exactly why this floating rock is so important. I can’t help thinking that surely some government, somewhere on Earth would have had to sanction such a drastic action and without this backstory the arguments put forward for genocide seemed awfully thin. But then again, that didn’t stop them in Iraq – an analogy/sub-theme that has already been noted by observers.

In conclusion, Avatar is a fantastic film that will surely be remembered as a milestone in out of home entertainment. Hollywood is clearly hoping that the big screen 3D experience will tempt audiences back into the cinema again. For all that, and good though it is, Avatar is not a “great” film. However I think it is the precursor to a new golden era of film entertainment, and I cannot wait to see what develops.

Why men shouldn’t write advice columns

2009-12-14T00:49:00.001-08:00

A very modern Xmas…

2009-12-09T17:46:00.001-08:00

Just like everything else in the screwed-up mess that is now the UK, ‘Elf ‘n’ Safety have taken over Christmas!

The Rocking Carol
Little Jesus, sweetly sleep, do not stir;
We will lend a coat of fur,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you:

Fur is no longer appropriate wear for small infants, both due to risk of
allergy to animal fur, and for ethical reasons. Therefore faux fur, a nice
cellular blanket or perhaps micro-fleece material should be considered a
suitable alternative.

Please note, only persons who have been subject to a Criminal Records
Bureau check and have enhanced clearance will be permitted to rock baby
Jesus. Persons must carry their CRB disclosure with them at all times and
be prepared to provide three forms of identification before rocking
commences.

Jingle Bells
Dashing through the snow
In a one horse open sleigh
O'er the fields we go
Laughing all the way

A risk assessment must be submitted before an open sleigh is considered
safe for members of the public to travel on. The risk assessment must also
consider whether it is appropriate to use only one horse for such a
venture, particularly if passengers are of larger proportions. Please
note, permission must be gained from landowners before entering their
fields. To avoid offending those not participating in celebrations, we
would request that laughter is moderate only and not loud enough to be
considered a noise nuisance.

While Shepherds Watched
While shepherds watched
Their flocks by night
All seated on the ground,
The angel of the Lord came down
And glory shone around

The Union of Shepherds has complained that it breaches health and safety
regulations to insist that shepherds watch their flocks without
appropriate seating arrangements being provided, therefore benches, stools
and orthopaedic chairs are now available. Shepherds have also requested
that due to the inclement weather conditions at this time of year that
they should watch their flocks via cctv cameras from centrally heated
shepherd observation huts.
Please note, the Angel of the Lord is reminded that before shining his /
her glory all around she / he must ascertain that all shepherds have been
issued with glasses capable of filtering out the harmful effects of UVA,
UVB and the overwhelming effects of Glory.

Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer
Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer
had a very shiny nose.
And if you ever saw him,
you would even say it glows.

You are advised that under the Equal Opportunities for All Policy, it is
inappropriate for persons to make comment with regard to the ruddiness of
any part of Mr. R. Reindeer. Further to this, exclusion of Mr R Reindeer
from the Reindeer Games will be considered discriminatory and disciplinary
action will be taken against those found guilty of this offence. A full
investigation will be implemented and sanctions - including suspension on
full pay - will be considered whilst this investigation takes place.

>
Little Donkey
Little donkey, little donkey on the dusty road
Got to keep on plodding onwards with your precious load

The RSPCA have issued strict guidelines with regard to how heavy a load
that a donkey of small stature is permitted to carry, also included in the
guidelines is guidance regarding how often to feed the donkey and how many
rest breaks are required over a four hour plodding period. Please note
that due to the increased risk of pollution from the dusty road, Mary and
Joseph are required to wear face masks to prevent inhalation of any
airborne particles. The donkey has expressed his discomfort at being
labelled 'little' and would prefer just to be simply referred to as Mr.
Donkey. To comment upon his height or lack thereof may be considered an
infringement of his equine rights.

We Three Kings
We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star

Whilst the gift of gold is still considered acceptable - as it may be
redeemed at a later date through such organisations as 'Cash for Gold'
etc, gifts of frankincense and myrrh are not appropriate due to the
potential risk of oils and fragrances causing allergic reactions. A
suggested gift alternative would be to make a donation to a worthy cause
in the recipients name or perhaps give a gift voucher.
We would not advise that the traversing kings rely on navigation by stars
in order to reach their destinations and suggest the use of RAC
Routefinder or satellite navigation, which will provide the quickest route
and advice regarding fuel consumption. Please note as per the guidelines
from the RSPCA for Mr Donkey, the camels carrying the three kings of
Orient will require regular food and rest breaks. Facemasks for the three
kings are also advisable due to the likelihood of dust from the camel
feet.

Away in a Manger No Crib for a bed - This is definitely one for Social Services!
>

Happy birthday Dr Sagan

2009-11-06T22:12:00.001-08:00

Monday the 9th of November would have been the 75th birthday of Dr Carl Sagan. For me, and I guess many people of my generation with an interest in science, he will forever be remembered for the series Cosmos (or as he famously pronounced it, “cosmoas”). Sagan was an extraordinary man – a gifted writer, scientist and academic. As an advocate of science, he was unsurpassed in his ability to illustrate the wonders of discovery and learning. As an intelligent and passionate humanist, he had a remarkable ability to articulate both the folly and the greatness of human kind. The video shown here gives a flavour of that talent.

Happy birthday Dr Sagan, wherever you are.

Nothing to report

2009-10-17T08:25:00.001-07:00

It’s been bit of a quiet night. Big M is out with an old friend; the girls are home and busy doing whatever it is they’re up to on the “girl’s floor” – the top floor of the BH homestead where males (i.e. me) are banned unless there’s a cockroach that needs sorting out. All’s right with the world and, frankly, there is no justification for this post whatsoever other than being a bit bored. And slightly pissed.

Hmm…what to write about? I had a haircut today from my little mate around the corner. I’ve gone to the same barber every since I arrived here, and aside from being great at teasing what’s left of the BH barnet into something resembling smart, he’s an excellent benchmark for my progress with learning Japanese. My first visit was like being a 5 year-old again; After being told to plonk myself into the chair, Big M engaged the barber in a long conversation about what was required – out came the styling books; bald spots were discussed and cover-up strategies formulated. My role in the whole thing was just to sit still and not say anything.

There is a special relationship between a chap and his barber. I guess it’s a bit like taxi drivers, the awkward silence often proves a bit too much to endure and sooner or later, either the barber or the, er… barbee will attempt to strike up a conversation. Here in Japan, of course, this tradition has been given a wholly new dynamic by the fact that myself and the barber speak two different languages. The first sheering of the BH bonce was thus a very one-sided affair, with my dear barber trying to resurrect what he could from English lessons at school to break the ice. With, I have to say, considerable success. He’s a great guy and we both share a love of jazz, that he always has playing in the shop.

In the months that have followed, there has been a subtle and gradual shift in the mode of conversation from English to Japanese. Today, I’d estimate that probably about 80% of our conversation was in Japanese. I feel really good about that. I get very depressed sometimes about my pitiful command of the language, when every other foreigner I meet seems to be able to speak perfect Japanese. But when I have a day like today – a day when I’ve managed to engage in an enjoyable conversation with someone outside the family, I feel great.

I desperately want to have a second language. Like many of my compatriots, I’ve always felt slightly embarrassed by the fact that wherever you go in the world, everyone speaks English. In my current situation, I feel this pressure acutely; It is my responsibility to fit in to my host society, not the other way around. But on days like today, I feel I am making progress.

Kokonatsu wo shikkari tsugan de! – taifu juhachi wa kimasu

2009-10-08T19:24:00.001-07:00

It’s been a bit drafty this week. Typhoon 18 – named Melor from the Malay word for jasmine – hit the mainland of Japan on Wednesday, carving a path of destruction across central Honshu before passing to the west of Tokyo yesterday. Tropical storms and typhoons are a fact of life here, but it’s comparatively rare that they make landfall. Most skirt by the coast, bringing lashing rain and strong winds in their wake but little in the way of destruction. Things have been a bit different this week.

Some of the more rural and coastal communities across the central region were quite badly damaged by winds gusting up to 123 mph and torrential rain that caused flooding and the risk of landslide – another natural hazard to be found here, along with earthquakes, volcanoes, tropical storms and Godzilla. Tokyo didn’t fare too badly, in fact there were some fringe benefits: Big M’s part-time workplace was closed so she had an unexpected day off. Most of the train services in the Tokyo area were disrupted, so Y had a relaxing half-day holiday and little M’s school was also closed.

Unfortunately, there were no typhoons on the internet and so your humble scribe remained shackled to the grindstone, as usual.

In terms of damage to the Beerhound homestead, nothing to report. Although a couple of the pot plants in my balcony garden took a dive, as did my basil, and my poor runner beans had their stakes blown down. In fact, I discovered the whole framework hanging over the balcony into next door, with just one tenacious bean plant stopping the whole thing disappearing over the side. He’s since been awarded the Vegetable Cross for outstanding fortitude.

If you say it slowly, you can probably work out the title for this post…clue: it involves coconuts and strong winds.

A dream come true

2009-10-05T22:12:00.001-07:00

I love Japan. I love living here, I love the people, the culture,the food. Even the weather. There is very little I miss about the UK, and I have never really been afflicted by homesickness. Except on a Friday.

Back in Blighty, Friday night was – if not the highlight of my week – then something I really looked forward to; the final full stop at the end of my week and a precious hour or two away from home, little M’s homework and the stresses of trying to scratch a meagre living. At 6pm on a Friday evening, the office would be closed and off I’d amble to The Phoenix for an hour and a lovely pint of Stella or three and a packet of crisps. Ahh – such simple pleasures.

Now don’t get me wrong; Japan has a love affair with beer that would put the Germans to shame. Every train carriage is plastered with beer adverts and every TV show is punctuated with beer commercials featuring men and women in the throes of rapture as they gulp down one of the hundreds of different brews available 24 hours a day from any convenience store. And believe me, you never tasted beer so good as an ice-cold daijokki on a sweltering hot Summer’s day. Everyone loves beer in Japan – from young, hip teenagers to old women. We’ve never heard of “binge-drinking”; we don’t have the nanny state waving a finger at us every time we crack a tube; there’s no stupid licensing laws and – best of all – people here can have a drink without wanting to stab each other in the face. In short, it’s a beer-drinkers paradise.

Given the domestic passion for lager it will come as no surprise that Japan has some of the biggest brewing corporations in the world. In fact, if the planned merger of Kirin and Suntory goes ahead, the new company will in fact be the biggest beer brewer the world has ever seen. Incidentally, I found out recently that Kirin – that most Japanese of beer brands – was actually started by an American bloke.

Anyway – I digress.

For all the beery pleasures that Japan has to offer, it is missing a small but vital detail. You can’t get Stella here. Well, actually that’s not true. You can get the bottled variety, as long as you’re willing to shell out around 7 quid for a 330ml bottle. No, what I’m referring to is draft Stella – the kind quaffed in every pub in the UK in vast quantities every weekend. And I must admit – I really miss it. Just like I miss those kicked-back Friday evenings in The Phoenix, munching crisps and reading the paper.

So - as you can imagine, finding somewhere in Tokyo that has Stella on draught has become a bit of an obsession. There are plenty of “British Pubs” here – at least 3 in Kichijoji that I know of – but none of them offer Wife Beater on tap. I thought I’d found somewhere in Ogikubo recently, but my excitement at seeing the distinctive white pump topped with the familiar red and gold logo was cruelly dashed when the landlord sheepishly informed me that is was actually connected to a barrel of Yebisu. Buggery bollocks. But, gentle reader, my dogged detective work has finally paid off and after a year sans Stella I’ve finally hit pay dirt.

Ladies and gentlemen – may I present the finest British pub in Tokyo. The wonderful, authentic, Stella selling, mysteriously named, Three Thread in Yotsuya nichome.

As I mentioned, Tokyo has a lot of British-themed pubs, But most are – frankly – crap. The Black Lion in Meguro isn’t bad, suffering only because of its lack of Stella and insistence on doing things the Japanese way i.e. having to wait for the dopey waitress to come over before you can get a pint. But the Three Thread tops them all. It’s a small place, but nicely decked out inside. The bar looks authentic and you can whistle up a pint of Nelson Mandela from the comfort of your bar stool. They do the obligatory fish and chips (Japanese-style miniscule portion) but also great bar snacks like nachos that really bring back memories of the dear old Millers Arms in Canterbury. In short – it’s a really excellent place; cosy, friendly and comfortable.

And so to the beer…

I nearly cried when I saw it. A proper pint of Stella (actually 400ml – but bloody close enough) in a proper glass, served with a perfect head and chilled to optimum drinking temperature. Not only that, but they pour a good pint of Guinness too, as Mrs BH’s pint in the background will testify.

And the taste? Bloody marvellous; full bodied with its characteristic hint of aromatic flowery fruitiness. Sigh. I was in heaven. At least, until the bill arrived.

At 1000 Yen a glass ( £7) it’s not exactly a cheap night out. But I’d say it was worth the £21 I spent on 3 pints! The good news is that if you go during happy hour, the price drops to about 4 quid - a bit more affordable. I shall definitely be darkening their door again in the not too distant future. Particularly as the Iaido dojo is just around the corner! A pint of Wife Beater after training? Now that’s what I call luxury.

No luck in Tama but philosophical in defeat

2009-09-27T18:39:00.001-07:00

I have just returned from competing in the 27th Tama taikai, but my return is alas – as expected – sans l’argent. I’ll quietly admit to being a bit disappointed not to have even won the first round. Although, in mitigation, I was unlucky enough to draw one of the semi-finalists as my first opponent so perhaps I shouldn’t feel too bad. Also, it’s worth noting that he himself was despatched by my French-Canadian mate Yuri – a real iaido powerhouse who is achieving huge success in tournaments here at the moment. So it’s one up to the gaijin!

The 2nd dan competition was the first event this morning. So after my early bath, I had quite a lot of time on my hands to sit and chat. I spent a good part of that time talking to my new Aussie friend, Ricki. She is a visiting academic, here to study Japanese political history and an unlikely budo disciple. Nevertheless, she has really done remarkably well. Today was her first competition and she won the first round! Great achievement. We talked a lot about iaido, and a lot about its context within overall Japanese culture. I mentioned that while the Japanese are happy to see a gaijin win a class, it is unusual for more than one gaijin to go forward to the next round of competition in the preliminary heats. As Yuri had already won in my class before I went on, I was pretty much doomed before my first cut.

Ricki is quite Australian in that she has a very well developed sense of “fair play”. She finds it hard to rationalise this apparent unfairness of Japanese culture as it relates to foreigners. She feels that with research, it should be possible to analyse and explain the deepest recesses of the Japanese psyche, and thereby presumably shed light on such injustices. These advances are, however, invariably resisted by the Japanese themselves; despite the fact that her understanding of Japanese is at native level she keeps coming up against the brickwall of “You understand the words, but not the meaning”. Clearly, this is something that causes her considerable frustration at times.

But my point is – why bother? Using today as an example, I’m not unduly upset, even if my early departure was more to do with my ethnicity than my ability. I came to Tama to experience the competition and to test myself. My objectives were therefore wholly satisfied. To my mind, there is very little to be achieved by picking apart a culture and analysing it in fine detail. You could pull apart a flower and study each of its component parts, yet gain no appreciation for the beauty of the living organism in its natural setting. Plus the fact, trying to fit Japanese ideas into nice pigeon holes designed for Western ones is often impossible and can only lead to more frustration, alienation and disappointment. Believe me – I’ve tried!

It is far easier to just accept that the people around you look at the world in a different way to you. In fact, surely it is preferable to have a world were different perspectives can co-exist. Japanese homogeneity is often criticised by non-Japanese as the foundation of an institutionalised “racism” culture that must be eradicated. Yet such granularity only exists at a local level; in the great scheme of things it is only part of the human experience. If we were to analyse, dissect and codify Japanese culture in this way, we might understand more about it but we would have also destroyed it; a living flower cannot recreated from a pile of parts. Furthermore, what would we gain from its destruction? Nothing as far as I can see apart from a little less colour and beauty in the world.

Many critics of the insular nature of Japanese society are driven by the frustration that no matter how long they live here, how well they speak the language or how much they contribute to society, they will never be part of the “Club”. I can understand that.

Personally, I am happy to just appreciate Japanese culture as it is, just as I can appreciate a flower without wanting to be one.

Silver Week – sterling performance

2009-09-24T17:47:00.001-07:00

This week was a very special one here in Japan; An unusual combination of public holidays meant three bank holidays back to back. This so-called Silver Week (Golden Week is the famous week-long annual holiday in May) won’t happen again until 2015.

Such a special occasion can not go unmarked, of course. And what better way to do so than with an iaido competition. So it was that last Tuesday your humble scribe packed dougi and katana and made the arduous journey one stop down the Chuo line to Ogikubo for a day of competitive swishing.

As regular readers will know, iaido is the art of Japanese swordsmanship that studies the quick draw of the blade, a swift and efficient despatch of the opponent and the replacement of the sword back in the scabbard with grace and dignity. It is very closely linked to kendo, but because we use real swords rather than bamboo ones, direct competition is – of course – impossible. You’d run out of players pretty quickly and the hall would get terribly messy. Instead, the players compete against each other in front of a stern panel of judges to see who can perform specific set-piece techniques with the greatest degree of technical skill and controlled fighting spirit.

Like many things Japanese, it looks easy. It isn’t. The techniques are physically challenging – especially for westerners with our longer arms and legs. The sword itself (for those that use a “live” blade) is very,very dangerous and easily capable of removing a thumb or finger in an instant. The degree of skill required just to cut properly with a Japanese sword takes years to master, and the attention to detail within the techniques themselves is extraordinary. A foot 1cm out of place or an eye-movement in the wrong direction is often all that separates the winner from the loser. There is also a lot of formal etiquette, reiho, that forms an integral part of the demonstration and this too is extremely detailed and difficult to master. Everything has to be performed technically perfectly, but also with a demeanour that demonstrates a Zen-like calm and mental focus. All accomplished under the withering eyes of three judges, who are all 6th dan or above (most are 7th or 8th dan). Believe me when I say, demonstrating under these conditions is extremely stressful.

I have never liked competitions much, but they are a very necessary part of iaido training because they add the “combat stress” element to your studies. There’s no other way of safely pressuring yourself to see whether you can control yourself well enough to perform good technique in challenging circumstances. I have competed in the UK nationals a few times, but the prospect of actually competing in Japan was quite a daunting one. Nevertheless, encouraged by my teacher and fellow students, I took part in a competition in the Tokyo Budokan earlier this year. The experience was scary, but exciting and, having done so, I felt very much part of the scene here, rather than just a visiting foreigner dabbling in martial arts.

So, I was not completely new to the situation when I took the court on Tuesday. I’d practiced my five kata fairly diligently and was feeling reasonably confident. Plus the fact – I was wearing my new lucky Union Jack boxer shorts under my hakama (thanks mum!). After walking forward and being given the command hajime (begin) I took the seated position and began my embu (demonstration). My first technique involves rising from a kneeing position whilst drawing the sword and cutting the opponent across the eyes before finishing him off with a large vertical cut. My cut felt very weak compared to how I’d practiced it, and my heart sank a bit because I realised it wasn’t going to be my best performance. Nevertheless, I got a grip of myself and resolved to try and at least acquit myself well for the rest of the demonstration. After finishing and performing the end etiquette, the lead judge rose with flags in hand. All the judges carry a white flag in their left hand and a red in their right to indicate which demonstration was the best. On the command, the judges raised their flags – bugger me, three red flags…I’d won!

True, I went out in the next round having drawn the guy that eventually won it, but for me I was very pleased to have taken my first step towards the Japanese silverware. I’ll be competing in another contest this weekend in Tama. Maybe this time my luck will hold through to the third round? Maybe not…this competition is much bigger so I don’t hold out much hope of success. But – as we British so rightly say, it’s not the winning but the taking part that counts. Even in distant lands, how true that is.

Desiderata Mages 2009

2009-09-17T16:29:00.001-07:00

A good friend of mine recently sent me a poem she’d written. It’s an update on the famous Desiderata that achieved much popularity in the 60s. The author is an exceptional person; someone that has faced and overcome many problems. I feel traces of some of the scars those battles have left behind can be seen threading though these words. They are however all the more noble for it. I think this is a great piece of inspirational writing and one that expresses my personal philosophy far better than I could ever do. Enjoy!

Being born in a human body is the greatest of all opportunities. Your time in that body will pass in the blink of an eye. Make the most of your life.

Adventures are to be welcomed and embraced. A life with no adventure is like a car that never leaves the driveway.

Be tolerant, especially of yourself. The rest of the world will find ways to beat you up. It needs no help from you. Being born is an opportunity to attain perfection, and that takes a lifetime of endeavour. Don’t expect perfection of yourself. If you were already perfect there would be little point in living.

Justice and fairness are concepts for children. The world is not a fair place. It is what it is, for good or ill. All you can do is deal with whatever is handed to you with a determined heart. None-the-less, be just and fair in your dealings with others, without expectation that others will do the same for you.

There are as many paths as there are people on the planet. As long as your path has a heart, it is a good path and it is yours and yours alone.

There will always be disasters. They are a fact of life. Living to avoid them is unrealistic, they’ll happen anyway.

Love is the most enduring experience. Love and beauty are the things we most value and live longest in our memory.

Have faith in your own abilities. The world is unpredictable and it can change for the worse or the better very quickly indeed. You can’t control the wave you’re on, but you can be good at riding it.

All attachments are temporary. Attachments to things slow you down and make you fearful. Attachments to people, especially those you love, are the most dangerous of all. All things and beings must pass.

Happiness matters more than all other things. Happiness is a state of mind, not a state of affairs. Helping others to be happy is the best way to ensure you own happiness.

Whatever your endeavour may be, get on with it. All things in life can be replaced, with the exception of time. Time is an arrow that goes only one way. Time is the most valuable commodity there is. Respect time, and make the most use of it. Even one second can never be regained.

Above all, love your self.

ブラーヂ　ガイジン

2009-09-12T01:39:00.001-07:00

Certain quarters of the expat community are up in arms over a new advertising campaign by McDonalds in Japan that centres around the exploits of Mr James – a geeky, westerner with broken Japanese and a singular lack of decorum. In short, a stereotypical gaijin (foreigner). Some long-term residents have reacted angrily to this, claiming its portrayal of westerners is both offensive and racist. McDonalds has issued a statement saying that no offense was intended, and there’s no serious suggestion to the contrary. But nevertheless, it has rubbed a few people up the wrong way and once again raised the question of how Japanese relate to foreigners in their midst.

There is no doubt that had McDonalds decided to run a similar campaign in the UK or US featuring a buck-toothed Asian with thick-rim glasses asking for “orliental chicken burger”, it would be banned instantly as unacceptable. And rightly so. Why then is such a characterisation permitted in Japan? The answer – simply – is that the Japanese do not consider such portrayals of foreigners as offensive. To westerners, this seems a puzzling point of view. But examining it closely reveals much about what it means to be able to fit-in here.

The Oxford English Dictionary gives two definitions for racism:

The belief that there are characteristics, qualities or abilities specific to each race.
Discrimination against, or antagonism towards other races.

To me, I think the first definition of racism is a bit of a misnomer. The Japanese are of course famous for their homogenous society and traditionally insular attitudes. For a long period of its history, Japan was closed to the outside world and as such has developed in quite a unique way. Thus, the Japanese think of themselves as a unique people, quite distinct from other races. And personally I feel they have every right to do so - just as every other culture is entitled to feel they have a distinct cultural identity. By the textbook definition, this makes everyone a racist! But that’s not really what we’re talking about when we talk about racism: What we are discussing is the second definition; discrimination against other races that you believe to be inferior.

The Japanese do not necessarily consider themselves superior amongst the world’s races, but they do consider themselves uniquely bound together by a common set of values and beliefs; a creed developed over countless generations that it is all but impossible for a foreigner to penetrate. From the outside, this looks like racial discrimination. But in reality, it is simply another manifestation of Wa – an invisible, unspoken harmony that allows society here to function effectively.

Western racial prejudices are based on skin-colour,language or religion; in Japan, it is the foreigner’s ability to sense Wa that determines how well they will be accepted and how far they can integrate into society. It is actually this ability – or lack of it – that McDonalds is parodying with its Mr James character. And it is something that you see all the time here. For example, just the other day as I was passing through Tokyo station in the early evening (an extremely busy place to be) I noticed a westerner standing absent-mindedly on the right side of an up escalator. The right side is for people walking up – the left side is for standing. He was completely oblivious to the 30 odd people quietly fuming behind him. Or a British colleague visiting Japan stepping up onto the raised floor of a restaurant in his shoes – an absolute no-no. This is classic Wa-breaking behaviour. The Japanese see it everyday, and so do I. It is therefore no surprise that people – myself included – tend to develop a wariness of green-horn foreigners because we expect them to be ignorant of Wa. That sounds very arrogant – I don’t mean it to be; I’m sure I’ve been just as guilty many times.

Where I’m going with this is that it is a mistake to slap the racist label on Japanese society, because the second dictionary-definition simply does not apply. Where discrimination does occur it is not based on race, it is discrimination based on attitude: While you can’t change your race, you can change your attitude. We British have a phrase - “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”.

Yes it happens that foreigners get refused for flat rental or banned from public baths. But it’s not because they are foreigners per se but typically because of a lack of faith in their ability to act with decorum. The famous case of the public baths that banned foreigners came about because the regular patrons were fed up with having to share their baths with Russian sailors who didn’t know how to use them properly – i.e. the bath is NOT for washing your socks in! While I might be personally aggrieved to be tarred with the same brush and refused entry, I do understand, and sympathise, with the reasoning behind it.

For a final word, I shall quote from a very eloquent and perceptive gentleman named Kerry Berger who I think hit the nail on the head with regard to the whole Mr James racism debate:

“Japan has so much to offer if one accepts the reality that exists rather than trying to change it from day one. Things are different on Mars. What is different isn't necessarily good or bad; it just different and it IS the way things are! Take it or leave it, the choice is up to those who adventure outside the confines of their home countries.”

And in case you’re wondering, the title of this blog is my rendering of the phrase “Bloody Gaijin” – much used by Mrs Beerhound and I on our travels.

New technology solves a long-standing problem

2009-08-20T20:51:00.001-07:00

For the dedicated beer fan, the prospect of sitting nursing an empty glass, ignored by tardy bar staff is the stuff of nightmares. But now a new invention from Mitsubishi Electric aims to put an end to this sorry state of affairs once and for all. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Intelligent Beerglass. This is a genuine invention from Mitsubishi’s research labs – God bless them, one and all!

Since restaurants often make much of their profits on drinks, it is critical for servers to offer refills in a timely fashion. We propose wireless liquid level sensing glassware to aid in this task. Specially instrumented glassware detects fluid levels via a high-resolution capacitance measurement. A coil embedded in the table inductively couples power to the glasses, and provides a path for data exchange. Our prototype glass uses a standard microprocessor and a small number of passive components, making it extremely inexpensive.

Background & Objective: It is a common problem you are in a bar or restaurant with your drink almost gone and you are desperately hoping that one of the staff will notice and offer you a refill. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don. If they don’t, you leave a little less happy with your experience and are less likely to return, the waiter or waitress gets a lower tip, and the restaurant has lost the chance to sell you a drink. Meanwhile, thirsty customers may stand waiting at the door for lack of a table. Everyone loses. It is such a little thing; yet doing it right or wrong can easily make the difference between economic success or failure. By using a combination of RFID and capacitance sensing technologies, we are able to achieve these properties.

Now it has often been noted that your humble scribe is no slouch when it comes to innovation. And during the course of writing this blog, a couple of modifications to the proposed system came to mind.

I wonder if I should contact the patent office now?

MERL – iGlassware

A whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on

2009-08-12T18:13:00.001-07:00

Mrs Beerhound and I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary last week, and in celebration we decided to book a table at the very posh Tokyo Breeze restaurant on the 36th floor of the Maranouchi building. The view from our table was – as you can see – quite stunning.

However it became considerably more interesting when Tokyo was struck by the biggest earthquake we’ve had for months. Sitting atop a swaying skyscraper, 36 floors above a distinctly unforgiving-looking pavement added a certain dynamic to the evening.

Subsequently, we’ve been hit several more times by earthquakes this week. We were woken up at 5am on Tuesday by a magnitude 4 quake, followed a few hours later by a small magnitude 1 tremor. And again this morning, we had a magnitude 2/3 shake. It is very, very unusual to have so many quakes in such a short space of time.

Everyone is a little bit concerned that we might be witnessing the precursors of the long-awaited Tokai quake. This is the big one, that the experts say is long overdue. The last great earthquake to hit Tokyo was in 1923, and this one killed 100,000 people. The experts say the next one will be as big, if not bigger. Of course, building design has improved considerably since those days (as our experienced in the Maranouchi building illustrated). However there will still be destruction and loss of life on a colossal scale. We are told that the government is ready for it and has made sufficient plans for our welfare. Certainly there are government warehouses packed with supplies all over Tokyo – often in secret locations. But everyone remembers the experience of the Kobe earthquake in ‘95 that showed up serious complacencies and flaws in the government’s emergency planning. We can only hope that those lessons were adequately learned, for the Tokai will be bigger and more destructive than anything Japan has faced before.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned about what will happen – and the Tokai is a certainty; there’s a 40% probability before next year and a 90% probability within 50 years. But life is itself uncertain. I can only hope that fate will be kind to us.

The mysterious case of the Austrian-style townhouse

2009-08-07T06:13:00.001-07:00

The thermometer needle remains firmly stuck on “Scorchio” (Japanese: スコーチヨウ. I’ve been telling everyone that this is the correct English term for very warm weather), and while I personally love the Japanese summer, it is energy-sapping and makes it difficult to stay focused on work. The daily grind has been made somewhat harder by the building site that’s appeared next door. The reformers are in town.

In Britain, any house under 10 years old is regarded as new; In Japan, they’re getting ready to slap a blue plaque on the wall after 5. Whereas the Englishman’s home is famously his castle, the Japanese regard houses as rather transient things. Which of course is completely understandable in a land prone to natural disasters. There is also – interestingly – a completely different tradition when it comes to things like old houses; one that reveals one of those subtle paradoxes about Japanese people. Most Japanese consider themselves to be staunchly secular, and yet most would also admit harbouring a lingering unease about inhabiting a space once occupied by someone else (no such problems for Mr and Mrs Beerhound, of course, as our love of a good deal overrides any other consideration!). The enthusiasm for new is not just motivated by aspirations to grandeur, but a deep-seated desire not to risk the ire of jealous or malevolent spirits clinging to the rafters of their former homes.

Anyway – I digress.

Building houses is big business here because having your new pad custom-built for you is not so unusual. Quite the opposite, in fact. And so it is that the owner of next door has decided to re-form his semi-derelict childhood home into a swanky new des-res. Consequently, there has been a great deal of crashing and bashing going on while they clear the old place and dig the foundations for the new one. Being, by nature, a nosy b*****d, I have been peeking out of the back window regularly to see what kind of palace will be springing forth from all this activity. And I must admit, I’m intrigued:

For along with the expected foundations, has appeared an unexpectedly deep excavation. the purpose of which remains unclear. At first I thought it might be a swimming pool. But that would be incredibly unusual for a Japanese town house. Then I thought it might be an underground car park…a kind of motorised hoist that enables two cars to be parked in one space (quite common). But closer inspection reveals a second, deeper excavation in the centre of the first…the plot thickens. Basement bathroom perhaps? Or something else….

I am becoming concerned that the owner might in fact be a fan of the Josef Fritzl school of architecture: Rest assured I shall be keeping a close eye on developments, and if I see any deliveries from the Yamamoto Steel Door & Soundproofing company, I’ll be straight up the police station.

Of intense heat, intense training, mad dogs and Englishmen

2009-07-25T22:11:00.001-07:00

Summer has very definitely arrived and iaido practice has become a real test of stamina and endurance. Although not as aerobically challenging as aikido or karate, the controlled movements and constant rising from a seated position to standing, and back again is quite demanding physically. Especially for a gentleman of ..ahem.. a fuller figure and especially in 35 degree heat and 70% humidity with no air conditioning! Each class is three hours of fairly constant activity, and it is quite a challenge to stay focused and on the ball. But it is excellent training; in the heat and humidity, your brain is too overheated to get much involved in what you’re doing, so the body kind-of takes over – a sort of induced state of mushin where the technique flows naturally without conscious thought.

Still – it has crossed my mind that I must be bloody bonkers! I’m no stranger to hard physical training, but I never thought it was possible to sweat so much in such a short space of time! In three hours I went through 1.5 litres of o-cha, and another 1L of sports drink. And none of it has reappeared in the form of wee! I’m also red raw from the chafing of a soaking wet dou gi But, for all the hardships, there is a sense of achievement from completing a demanding session. This is real Budo training – testing yourself in difficult conditions. And also – the Beerhound has earned his Dai Jocky of beer tonight!

Cherie Blair has suspected swine flu - Telegraph

2009-07-16T08:15:00.001-07:00

Swine flu - so it’s not all bad news then

Cherie Blair has suspected swine flu - Telegraph

One year in Japan

2009-07-15T22:25:00.001-07:00

Today marks the first anniversary of our arrival in Musashino. A time for reflection and not a little thankfulness that everything seems to have worked out ok – well, so far at least. It was a tumultuous year of change and upheaval for everyone. For the girls, getting used to living all together under one roof; for me, adjusting to a new way of life and a new culture. Looking back to last August and my return to the UK to finalise the house move single-handed, my posts from that time bring back all too clearly what a desperately hard time it was for me personally. To be honest, I don’t know how I coped with it. But I did, and I have no regrets; I believed then that we were doing the right thing, and I’m even more certain of it now.

My concerns about whether I would be able to settle here have (almost) evaporated. I love Japan with a very real and visceral affection that seems to grow stronger with each passing month. Of course, there have been frustrations and upsets, but for the most part I am very happy to be here, and I genuinely have no desire to go back to the UK with all its problems.

I’m just trying to think about the highlights of our year here. I think Xmas last year was wonderful – all together in our own house for the first time. The family New Year trip to an onsen in Ito City was great fun. Competing in the Tokyo Iaido Championships was a thrill; visiting Yamanashi prefecture, staying at a wonderful onsen and driving into the Minami Alps made a spectacular change from Tokyo’s concrete vista. Interspersed with these highlights have been numerous small pleasures and surprises; a tasty new dish, a wonderful shrine or unexpected splash of greenery discovered nearby.

But I think the greatest joy has been the warmth of the people I’ve met here – Japanese and gaijin. With the exception of miserable Mr. O who lives across the street, our neighbours have been faultlessly hospitable and welcoming to this lumbering gaijin. I joined a Japanese language class run by our local council in April. At first, it was very, very difficult and I almost quit (which is very unusual for me) but I stuck with it and have been rewarded with some wonderful new friendships with people from all over the world – as well as a vast improvement in my Japanese skills. Our teachers are both wonderful – patient, kind and encouraging but also persistent and very “genki” – hmm, enthusiastic – about our progress. The course culminated in a chaotic ryori (cooking) party in which all the students had an hour to knock-up a representative national dish. Well, I can tell you – the food was out of this world…curries, Thai, Chinese, Russian, Pilipino, Bangladeshi – an absolutely marvellous evening.

Looking forward to the next year – well, I can’t really guess what might be in store. I hope to further improve my language skills, contribute something to the society which has accepted me (more or less) into its midst and just do my best to create a happy home for everyone.

Apologies for absence

2009-07-14T21:33:00.001-07:00

I know, I know…several months have passed without so much as a single word. If there’s anyone actually reading this, then I most humbly apologise for my tardiness. In mitigation, I would explain that life has become very busy just trying to keep the work and money coming in. But of course, that’s no excuse.

Also – I should explain that the reason for my sudden burst of activity is not entirely motivated by shame. I’ve recently found out about something called the Japansoc Blog Matsuri – a monthly festival of blog writings on a particular theme. There are really excellent writers that take part, and it’s something that looks like a lot of fun. I’ve decided to pitch-in with an entry and see what it’ll do. This month’s theme is “What do you find most strange about Japan”. My entry is an edited version of an earlier post – so if you have a strong sense of déjà-vu reading the following, don’t worry…you aren’t going nuts.

Japan:Take nothing for granted

2009-07-14T21:23:00.001-07:00

One of the most endearing features of Japanese life for a Westerner is that absolutely nothing can be taken for granted. Food is, of course, probably the first culture-shock people experience here. We are not accustomed to having our dinner arrive still attempting to escape, nor do we share the Japanese enthusiasm for plonking raw egg yolks on everything. But long after these occurrences cease to become remarkable, the country still has the capacity to catch you out with some unexpected cultural roadside bomb.

Take, for example, shower gel. A pretty innocuous household substance, that you would think was fairly universal in its formulation and use. But you’d be wrong, for in Japan they strive constantly to achieve perfection – and those good people at Sea Breeze shower gel are no exception.

Sea Breeze is quite a good name for a shower gel – conjuring up images of bracing sea air, the exhilaration of the briny spray with a hint of wind-swept manliness thrown in. Plus something else: They put bloody menthol in it.

While on the face of it, it doesn’t sound too bad, it’s a different story when Sea Breeze meets the more delicate parts of one’s anatomy. If you’re not expecting it – and why would you be – the sudden warming sensation in the nether regions is an alarming experience.

A familiar face

2009-01-28T13:50:00.000-08:00

I have just returned from Devon. By virtue of its reason, that of the funeral of my uncle, a trip of very great sadness. Yet, amongst the sadness was contained the joy of reunion. It has been so long since I have seen my cousins, aunts and uncles. And it has been a long time since I have seen this distinguished fellow.

This is a portrait of my grandfather, Jack Peopall, who was a remarkable and much-loved man. Unfortunately he died before I was born, but if I could meet one person from history it would be him. Next time you buy something from the meat stall or cheese counter in your local supermarket, say a little thank you to Jack: He was the man that invented the write-on price tag that's now used pretty much universally. By all accounts, his intelligence and business acumen were only surpassed by his sense of fun and by the unbounded kindness and love he showed to those around him. In short, an inspiration.

Seeing his portrait hanging in my aunt’s house and meeting all those wonderful people again really made me realise that, in reality, I am not quite the solitary character I sometimes consider myself to be. I have the privilege to belong to a wonderful family. I am really resolved to make the most of that by making the effort to stay in touch much more. And in so doing, I can really acknowledge and enjoy the gift that this man bestowed on me.

Amazon.co.uk: Customer Reviews: Bic Crystal Ballpoint Pen, Medium Point, Black

2009-01-25T15:06:00.000-08:00

This is an absolute classic! Apparently genuine reviews posted on Amazon. Click the link to visit the Amazon page for a real hoot

The most helpful critical review

2,048 of 2,065 people found the following review helpful:

Very good if you need to write on paper
Since taking delivery of my pen I have been very happy with the quality of ink deposition on the various types of paper that I have used. On the first day when I excitedly unwrapped my pen (thanks for the high quality packaging Amazon!) I just couldn't contain my excitement and went around finding things to write on, like the shopping list on the notice board in our...

Read the full review ›

Published 23 months ago by M. Williams

Amazon.co.uk: Customer Reviews: Bic Crystal Ballpoint Pen, Medium Point, Black

Left handers beware...
Worked fine with my right hand, but when I came to use my left hand my writing came out looking like the work of a complete imbecile. I can only assume Bic have created a right-handed only pen, and would caution left-handers to "try before you buy".

Published 12 months ago by Disappointed user

› See more 3 star, 2 star, 1 star reviews

A joyful reunion

2009-01-21T12:03:00.000-08:00

I have finally been reunited with my beloved Stella. And even more of a relief, the Globe has reverted back to being a proper pub again; the 1940's-loving weirdos who were running the place during my last visit having long since disappeared. The present landlord seems a likeable young chap - I feel sure I will be darkening his door once again in the near future.

A lesson from Confucius

2009-01-15T03:33:00.000-08:00

I have been reading lots lately about Japanese ethics and morality, and in particular Bushido – Japanese chivalry. I bought an excellent book to read on the plane back; I actually nearly finished it before even getting on the plane! The work, entitled Bushido – The Soul of Japan – is an extremely thorough examination of Bushido as seen through the eyes of its author, Dr. Inazo Nitobe, a scholar of some note. Written in 1905, the book is unique in that it was written in English by someone with personal experience of Bushido as a living entity. The result is a rare insight into this often misunderstood aspect of Japanese culture.

The Bushido tradition connects with many other schools of thought and philosophies. Among them, Confucian teachings. In researching this aspect, I came across a very interesting Confucian political theory concerning social morality that has particular resonance with my thoughts on modern British culture (or lack therefore!)

Confucius' political thought is based upon his ethical thought. He argues that the best government is one that rules through "rites" and people's natural morality, rather than using bribery and force. He explained that this is one of the most important analects:

"If the people be led by laws, and uniformity sought to be given them by punishments, they will try to avoid the punishment, but have no sense of shame.”

“If they be led by virtue, and uniformity sought to be given them by the rules of propriety, they will have the sense of shame, and moreover will become good."

This "sense of shame" is an internalisation of duty, where the punishment precedes the evil action, instead of following it in the form of laws as in Legalism.

Somebody please tell Mr Brown!

Reverse Culture Shock Hits

2009-01-14T15:35:00.000-08:00

I’ve been back in the UK a few days now, but I still feel I’m living in some kind of alternative reality: In my absence, what I think of as England has been replaced by a loud, ignorant and rather course facsimile of itself. I have always been proud of my country and my heritage, but I’m finding it increasingly difficult to reconcile my concept of what that means to me with what I see around me. For example, in my mind – and, incidentally, that of people from other countries that I have met recently – the overriding image of British people is one of courtesy, reserve and politeness. The reality these days is, alas, anything but.

I must admit to being somewhat confused – caught between my image of what I think constitutes the British ideal, what others think of as the ideal, and the reality as I have observed. I really can’t decide. All I know is that I am finding it difficult to readjust to modern British living, made even more so by the fact that, actually, I don’t want to readjust to modern British living.

This evening I met a former BA pilot. Nice guy, obviously well travelled and very familiar with Japan. But only as a tourist. In conversation, he clearly had no idea – not even the beginnings of an understanding – of the depth and significance of Japanese society and its customs. More importantly, he had no desire to understand. In conversation he described social situations that would be excruciatingly difficult for Japanese people, in a manner that made it quite clear he considered himself above such concerns; the local rules of social convention didn’t apply to him because he was British.

It is easy to point the finger and laugh at things that look odd to us. But this, surely, is the very definition of ignorance. The challenge is to try to learn and to understand. This is something that we, as Brits, have traditionally been quite good at. Or so I have always thought. Perhaps the reality is that, with my desire to go beyond the superficial, it is me that is out of step. Like I said, I’m confused: But from where I am standing at the moment, the Japanese way of life seems infinitely preferable.

A pint at last

2009-01-11T05:03:00.000-08:00

Bloody typical. I come all this way and end up with a pint of Kronenberg! Never mind

Let's Learn Japanese: Kuuki Yomenai

2009-01-09T23:56:00.000-08:00

I found this really useful piece of cultural advice on another blog. Click the link to see the original post.

Let's Learn Japanese: Kuuki Yomenai

A very useful (yet difficult-to-translate) Japanese phrase is kuuki yomenai. Literally translated, kuuki yomenai means "can't read the air." It is used to describe people who lack social tact. The written phrase looks like this:

空気読めない

Always the innovators, Japanese young people have recently abbreviated kuuki yomenai to the Roman alphabet letters "K.Y." But sometimes just saying that someone is kuuki yomenai doesn't do justice to that person's lack of social skills. Sometimes you need to take it up a notch. At times like these, you have to use chou kuuki yomenai:

超空気読めない

That means "REALLY can't read the air," and is abbreviated "C.K.Y."

I want everyone back home in the US who reads this to try using "K.Y." or "C.K.Y." in daily conversation. When someone asks you what it means, tell them what it means, then tell them to start using it.

The English language needs a phrase like this.

Chorus, Isolate, Confirm: Let's Learn Japanese: Kuuki Yomenai

Back to the UK

2009-01-08T15:06:00.000-08:00

I am now on my way to the airport,courtesy of the Odakyu Bus Company.It's a dull, dreary day in Tokyo - a day that matches my mood completely. The last three months have gone very quickly. The expected brick wall of homesickness just didn't happen. In fact,quite the reverse. I genuinely feel far more relaxed, far more at home here than I did in the UK. Of course it will be fun to see friends and family. But a very, very big part of me will forever remain here.

Some thoughts on war & peace

2009-01-07T16:39:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday saw the first iaido class of 2009, an event marked with a wonderful party at a fellow student’s house afterwards. What I thought was going to be just a quick tin of beer and a chat turned out to be a whole afternoon of eating, chatting and watching videos of past iaido competitions and embu. Not to mention the obligatory beer, sake and shochu in good measure. I ended up sitting at the table with my new Argentine friend and fellow iaidoka, F, some new friends in the shape of a young American/Japanese couple and our teacher. As the drink flowed, the conversation turned to the more philosophical aspects of our practice.

Our teacher asked us in turn what had brought us to the study of iaido, as opposed to other arts, and what we hoped to gain from it. That’s not an easy question to answer, and everyone has their own reasons for pursuing this particular path of Budo. But for most people, I think it would be fair to say that they came to iaido not as their first discipline but as a supplement to their core art, be it karate, aikido or whatever. That was certainly the case for me, and also for F – we are both aikido men. Somewhere along the way, it seems that some (not all) people discover the hidden treasures that the study of iaido offers and the pursuit of knowledge of the Nihonto takes on a new, more profound meaning.

Perhaps other martial artists will understand the sense of “being in the moment”, of mushin (“no mind”) that comes with the dedicated study of any martial art. To try and explain it to someone who has not experienced it is like trying to explain the colour red to a blind person. Suffice it to say that there comes a time in most iaidoka’s study when they realise that the essence of the art is not in the physical act of drawing and cutting with the sword, but in freeing the mind from its self-imposed constraints and anxieties; from being able to move effortlessly from peaceful calm to lightning-quick activity and calm again with the mind undisturbed and unfettered. True proficiency in any martial art frees the mind from any thought of technique or pre-conceived tactics. The technique flows naturally and the mind floats serenely above, trapped by nothing and leaving nothing behind. It is therefore – paradoxically –through the study of conflict that one can achieve peace.

There is a saying in Japanese martial arts, Saya no uchi de katsu, which roughly translates as “victory resides in the scabbard of the sword”. One interpretation of this is that at the highest level, it is possible for a warrior to achieve victory through being so powerful that no one dares challenge them. In other words, peace through superior firepower. Such power in the hands of a just and right-thinking person is a powerful force for peace. The ultimate objective of martial arts is therefore peace achieved through a combination of mental and physical power moderated by a spirit of compassion and benevolence.

My teacher views the study of iaido in this way – as a route to peace rather than to war. My interpretation of this is simply that most conflict arises from fear. By removing this fear from our own hearts, through strict training and by pushing ourselves physically and mentally, we remove the need for unnecessary conflict, while at the same time developing an immovably resolute spirit that enables us to move decisively into action when action is required.

In the same way that the perfection of the Japanese sword blade is achieved by countless hours of labour, there is something about the process of continual and sincere practice in martial arts that seems to polish-out the imperfections of the human spirit and leave it revealed in its true beauty. That’s really what iaido means for me.

The world’s worst Mt. Fuji picture

2009-01-03T06:35:00.000-08:00

I have just returned from a most enjoyable trip to my first onsen – a hot spring resort. The onsen we visited was in a place called Ito City, which lies south west of Tokyo on the Izu peninsula. The most recognisable feature on the Izu peninsula is of course Mt. Fuji – Japan’s most iconic symbol, instantly recognisable for it’s symmetrical shape. I was quite excited by the prospect of getting a good close-up view of Fuji san. Unfortunately, the outward train journey didn’t go quite as planned; what was originally intended to be a relaxing journey in a comfortable seat with panoramic views of the countryside ended up as a 1.5 hour slog on a packed commuter train, most of which was spent staring at other people’s backsides. I caught a fleeting glimpse of Fuji san – enough to realise what a truly impressive sight it is and to resolve to get some pictures on the return journey.

Alas, this too seemed blighted by problems and once again we found ourselves on a packed local train. Only this time I didn’t even get a seat! I had hoped to turn this to my advantage by snapping some shots of the mountain.

Fuji san is probably one of the most photographed and painted mountain in human history; I feel, alas, that my offering will probably not contribute much to that cultural legacy. But see what you think.

New Year at Sensouji

2009-01-02T21:28:00.000-08:00

We braved the crowds on Jan 1st to visit the Sensouji temple in Asakusa. Usually it's absolutely rammed over New Year so we were expecting a long wait- 1 or 2 hours - to get inside. But perhaps because we went later in the day,it was comparatively quiet and we sailed straight through. I hope a good omen for the coming year.

Sensouji occupies a special place in our relationship. The first pictures of Little M and Y I saw were taken here; M and I came here for special prayers to be said for us to be said at the start of our relationship, and we have tried to return every New Year since to make an offering and pray for health and happiness in the coming year.

Sensouji is an awesome place, in the true sense of the word; a centre of religion and culture nearly 1500 years. The original temple that stood here was destroyed by American bombs in the last war, but the modern structure is a completely convincing replica. There is a real sense of spiritual power about the place. Having prayers read for us by the abbot was one of the most memorable experiences of Japan, and I think one I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

Monjaiyaki – A tasty treat

2009-01-01T01:11:00.000-08:00

I recently encountered a new culinary treat in the shape of Monjaiyaki. This is cooked at the table in a similar fashion to okinomiyaki, but while the latter (a kind of rich omelette with cabbage and vegetables) originates from Okinawa, monjaiyaki is very much a Tokyo staple.

Although it may look rather unpleasant, it’s actually very tasty. The vegetables and meat/fish components are cooked first on the hotplate, arranged in a ring. The hollow centre is then filled with a sort of egg/flour mixture and the whole thing stirred together. When done, all the people around the table carve little bits off using miniature shovels. We tried three variations on this theme. The first, pictured above, was based on camembert cheese and was the clear winner as far as I’m concerned.

Welcoming 2009

2008-12-31T22:11:00.000-08:00

The New Year celebrations began in earnest for us with the traditional bowl of soba noodles at midnight – said to ensure long life – followed by a visit to our local jinja. Drawn by a combination of spiritual need and the prospect of free sake, we donned coats and headed out into the chill night air. The jinja is literally at the end of our street and is mostly deserted for about 364 days of the year. But not tonight.

It seems like a few other people had had the same idea! The queue stretched from the jinja about half a mile down the road. Still, undaunted we persevered and waited patiently inline for our chance to step through the ring and offer our prayers for good fortune in 2009.

For the Japanese, each year is considered a separate and distinct entity. The visit to the jinja and its purifying ceremony draws a line under the year just gone and means that everyone can begin the New Year with a clean slate. Japanese people attempt to finish the year will all business taken care of and bills paid so that nothing is carried over into the New Year, so for the last few days all the post offices and combini stores have been packed with people paying bills. Although it’s not possible to settle everything by Dec 31st, this idea of being “reborn” each year, spiritually clean and refreshed remains a very attractive one, and I think is perhaps one secret behind the Japanese people’s legendary grit and endurance.

The normally deserted shrine had been really attractively decorated. Lit by a combination of Japanese lanterns and wood-burning braziers, the atmosphere was a mixture of levity and real sincere spirituality. This is perhaps the one time of year when the normally secular Japanese reveal a little of the spirituality that underpins their culture.

The shrine itself is clearly very old – possibly dating back to the time of the Tokugawa Shogunate or even further. When you look around the site, there are a number of stone shrines, some on them appear to be so old that the carvings and markings that once adorned them have long since been worn away. The stone alter where incense is burned has literally been carved in half by the combustion of countless offerings made over the years.

Eventually we neared the shrine itself and got ready to make our offering of a few coins, bang the temple gong to attract the attention of the temple kami or spirit, and say our prayers of thanks and for the New Year. Every shrine has a different tradition. Here, it is customary to bow twice and clap your hands twice before praying. Afterwards, we got our free sake – not the bloody big glass that Big M was hoping for but the traditional “saucer”. But still gratefully received none the less. This was followed by a go on the Lucky Dip (Y won a bag of spuds, presumably from the local farm) and a cup of warm, milky…something, enjoyed while standing around a roaring fire, in which all the lucky charms from last year are cremated.

All in all, a very enjoyable evening that had just the right combination of spiritual sincerity and entertainment with which to start the New Year.

So, if you are reading this, may I offer you our sincere good wishes for the New Year. あけましたおめでとうございます！Akemashita omedetou gozaimasu.

Farewell to 2008

2008-12-31T21:08:00.000-08:00

Last night we bid farewell to 2008 in traditional style with a midnight visit to the local jinja, or Shinto shrine. By stepping through the ring and approaching the shrine itself, we are purified of all negativity and can begin the New Year refreshed and reborn. Today is a day of reflection on the events of 2008. With its highs and lows, it was certainly a tumultuous year but one that brought with it tremendous achievement. I was looking at some photos I took this Xmas, and I drew some satisfaction from noting that for the first time, the whole family was gathered together under our own Christmas tree in our own house. From nothing but a crazy dream, we have created something quite wonderful – a house filled with love and happiness. 2008 was the year that saw that dream come true.

For all its trials and desperate moments, I will always remember 2008 for this and be thankful; Thankful to all those people that helped us achieve our dream, and thankful to the guardian spirits of our family for bringing us the good luck that helped us on our way. Fare thee well 2008 and thank you. I pray that 2009 will be as kind to us.

Old Christmas, New Year

2008-12-30T06:39:00.000-08:00

Christmas is done and dusted for another year, and despite my pre-Crimbo gloom, it turned out to be quite an enjoyable one. Perhaps prompted by a bit more explanation of the deeper meaning that Christmas carries with it for us gaijin, the wife made a big effort to make it a fun time for all of us. And indeed it was, despite the absence of that special Christmas Day feeling. It is totally unreasonable to expect that we will ever fully replicate the feeling of a “true” Christmas as far as I am concerned. Nevertheless, and as the missus pointed out, their family traditions are no less valid than mine. What I think of as a proper Christmas is just my opinion; that’s all. What I’ve always wanted is to try and bring a bit of extra magic and a bit of depth to their day. And I think it’s fair to say that this was achieved. Well, as much as can be expected anyway.

Now we are in the full throes of preparation for O-Shogatsu, the Japanese New Year. In contrast to Christmas, the Japanese take New Year very seriously indeed. The house has to be cleaned from top to bottom and all duties and obligations discharged by the end of the year, so that everyone can start the New Year afresh. It’s a nice thought and one that I am more than happy to go along with. It is customary to visit a Jinja (Shrine) to pray for good fortune in the coming year. In the past we have visited the massive Sensouji temple in Tokyo on New Year’s day. But it gets very crowded, so I think this year we’re going to sample the delights of our local jinja at the end of our street. They’re planning some special events so it looks like fun.

A stiff drink

2008-12-27T20:20:00.000-08:00

Spotted in Kichijoji

Great expectations

2008-12-21T06:16:00.000-08:00

I have just returned home from my first Bonenkai – the Japanese version of the Western Xmas party. Bonenkai means “forget the year”. While there is no tradition of Christmas here, as my last post explains in great detail, great store is placed in the year-end/New Year. So it’s a time to bring the year just gone to a close and to begin to look forward to the year ahead with renewed spirits of comradeship and shared endeavour.

Naturally, this is best accomplished with the aid of copious amounts of alcohol.

This evening’s do was courtesy of my iaido dojo. I say the word “my” with a good deal of pride, because I have today been formally accepted as a member of this dojo. This is actually a real honour and one that I am personally very thrilled about. I won’t bore you, dear reader, with the details but suffice to say, the lineage of my teacher – and therefore my own learning – can now be traced back over 450 years in a direct, unbroken line. It means a lot to me that I have been allowed to share in this treasured heritage.

But aside from all that, tonight was fun. I feel like I have joined a new little family. And I feel that I am a genuine part of it rather than just the “token gaijin”. I have read blogs by other western martial arts students in Japan – some of them in reference specifically to my dojo – where they have expressed a sense of bitterness about feeling “excluded”; of being allowed to participate, but not feeling part of the group. I am a bit perplexed by this, as this has not been my experience. It appears to me there can be only two explanations: Either I am too dumb to have noticed that I am being “excluded” or the person complaining of such exclusion has had a different experience to me. I genuinely feel it must be the latter, although I feel at a loss to explain why that should be the case. I suspect, however, that it’s something to do with people’s expectations.

Before joining this dojo, I had read on a particular blog about the “intense” sessions; the remorseless training regime that allowed no respite. As a middle-aged bloater, the words “intense” and “training” used in a single sentence are a genuine cause for anxiety. But as someone who prefers to make up his own mind, I went anyway.

The first class was tough: My legs hurt like crazy for a week afterwards and I had no skin left on the toes of both feet. But this is not unusual – I’ve had the same experience in England many, many times. It’s called a normal training session. It’s what I would expect from following any martial art discipline. Nobody said much to me while I was there – it didn’t bother me because I was there to train. So I went again, and again, and again. Slowly, people respond to the fact that you are serious about what you are doing.

The act of willingly putting yourself through a physically difficult routine is really the essence of martial arts. What you are doing is conditioning your mind as much as your body. But of course, if it was easy, everyone would be doing it.

Unfortunately, this seems to have become the case with iaido in some parts of the world – the UK included. In some quarters, the perception of iaido appears to be – as with some Aikido schools – that it is a purely esoteric/spiritual pursuit, completely abstract to a real physical confrontation or a life-or-death encounter with an opponent armed with a razor-sharp sword. Consequently, the attitude in some quarters appears to be that if you don’t feel comfortable with a technique because your knee hurts or you are too fat to sit in tate hiza or you don’t like doing breakfalls, you can adapt the technique to suit your liking. Of course, this is utter nonsense.

In the UK, for example, it is very common to see people performing kneeling techniques from a standing position, even during a grading or in competition. I have not seen that done once here: either you do the technique properly, or you don’t do it at all.

There is a reason for that: It is the act of deliberately throwing yourself at the ground, or relentlessly practicing the same sword technique, even though your toes are bleeding and your legs are killing you that is training your mind to cope with difficult physical situations. The discomfort is the very essence of martial arts practice. Some people just can’t deal with that. Perhaps it is a sad reflection of our something-for-nothing western culture that some of these kind of people appear attracted to iaido because they see it as an easy route to a dan grade in a martial art. That maybe true in some places. But not here.

Personally, I am very happy to have been given the opportunity to spend 3 hour sessions under the gaze of an attentive and extremely knowledgeable teacher. I don’t expect anything in return – fancy certificates or impressive titles - nothing except the hope that my technique will improve if I work hard and that I will enjoy the companionship of my fellow students while I practice. And perhaps even a few beers afterwards…What more could any martial artist want?

よBloody ほほ (yo bloody ho ho)

2008-12-19T01:43:00.000-08:00

It’s Christmas time and here in Japan, like everywhere else in the known universe, that means streets festooned with decorations and Last Christmas blasting out from every shop PA system. However there is one major,major difference between Christmas here in Japan and the rest of the world: While the rest of the world will be enjoying a fun-filled, relaxing Christmas Day on December the 25th, in Japan all the decorations will be gone; the Christmas CDs shoved in the drawer under the counter until next year and all trace of Christmas spirit erased. The commuter trains will once again be packed to capacity during the morning rush hour and all over the country it will be very much “business as usual”.

The word superficial doesn’t even begin to describe the shallowness of Christmas here. This is not the first time I’ve been in Japan for Christmas, but there is something very different about this year in that I am actually living here rather than merely choosing to visit during the festive season as has been the case in the past. Previously, I guess like most Westerners, I was simultaneously amused and bemused by the Japanese approach to Christmas. As in everything else they do, the Japanese throw themselves at it with a vigour and enthusiasm that few other people could match. Every street, every shop and every window is lit up with galaxies of fairy lights. Yet they have absolutely no concept of why or what it’s all for. The meaning is utterly lost on them; like a middle-ager dropping some highly inappropriate Yoof buzzword they’ve picked up into a conversation, without realising its true obscene meaning – Christmas in Japan is amusing but at the same time, a bit disturbing.

The thing that is the most disturbing is that they really don’t care about the meaning – it’s just an excuse to put up lights, buy presents, eat cake and Kentucky Fried Chicken on Christmas Eve. Once that’s done, that’s it. There is no significance whatsoever in any of it – it is as false and plastic and contrived as the Santa-suit clad Colonel Saunders figure that stands outside KFC.

I don’t consider myself to be a religious person as such, and if I was, I doubt that I would be particularly inclined to adopt mainstream Christian belief. Nevertheless, like most people around the world, I do believe that Christmas, Yuletide – whatever you want to call it – is a special time. A time when, just for a day or so, there can actually be Peace on Earth and where everyone, no matter what their beliefs and circumstances, should be able to feel the warmth of human affection, as expressed through family or friends. This appears to be an utterly alien concept to the Japanese - my wife included, who scoffs at the very notion.

According to her, Christmas means nothing – it’s just a shopping festival. My assertion that the festival carries with it a deeper and more profound personal significance for most people was roundly and aggressively slapped-down.

I was quite offended by the arrogance of this. How can someone who clearly has no concept of Christmas dismiss it as being trivial and worthless?

Emotionally difficult for sure, but also a very difficult thing for me to grasp intellectually. How can an otherwise rational and intelligent person fail to acknowledge that the idea of Christmas is – if not one of religious significance – then at least a noble one.

Of course I am very aware that Japan has no tradition of Christmas, and so I held no preconceptions that Christmas here would in any way resemble that in the UK. But in true British style, my natural inclination was to acquire the various iconic Crimbo elements as best I could i.e. Turkey, Crackers etc, and do the best to create a semblance of Christmas Day. Now, after experiencing my wife’s cold dismissal of its significance as a family festival, I have – quite unexpectedly – become a little depressed about it all.

But, after trawling through various blogs, I find that I am not alone. It seems that many gaijin before me have stubbed their toes on this particular cultural rock that lies just below the waterline. The words “depressing”, “shallow”, “bleak” are commonly used to describe the feelings that a Christmas driven exclusively by commercial cynicism evokes in the hearts of many Westerners. Some use stronger language; some even go so far as to return home at this time of year to avoid it.

Perhaps the answer is that there are some things that just can’t be explained or translated without a cultural reference point to relate it to. Christmas is perhaps one.

If the shoe fits « Margaret and Helen

2008-12-16T17:43:00.000-08:00

I saw this post, written by an American lady called Helen Philpot concerning George Bush’s “shoe-dodging” incident. I can’t help thinking the views she expresses are echoed by a lot of American people, and certainly one held by this Englishman.

Well, I would have written sooner but I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to type more than a sentence or two. Oh my goodness but did any of you see the incident with the Iraqi journalist, Muntathar al Zaidi, throwing his shoes at Georgie Boy? I gotta believe there are millions of us who have wanted to do that very same thing. It’s too bad Zaidi didn’t hit his intended target because he just might have knocked some sense into that thick Bush skull. Not to mention the lucrative Nike contract that surely would have followed.

Eventually I did stop laughing, however, because after the initial reaction wore off, I started paying attention to the gravity of the situation. In truth, it is not funny at all. Offering someone the “sole of your shoe” is considered a grave insult in the Arab world.

But even more sobering is what Zaidi said as he threw the shoes: “This is a farewell kiss, you dog. This is from the widows, the orphans and those who were killed in Iraq.” And after he was knocked to the ground he continued saying, “Killer of Iraqis, killer of children.”

OK. I am not thinking it is all that funny anymore. How about you?

But the way Bush reacted is probably the best example of why our 43rd President should be run out of town on a rail. After the shoe incident, Bush tried to laugh it all off by saying, “It didn’t bother me, and if you want the facts it was a size 10 shoe he threw at me.”

Well it should bother him, at least a little bit. He is indeed responsible for thousands of widows and orphans. His orders to war did indeed result in the deaths of children. Now look. I understand that war is hell and unintended casualties are going to happen no matter how hard we try to avoid them. But this isn’t the first time Bush has displayed an apparent “carefree” attitude towards his presidency.

Three months after the World Trade Center went down, Bush was quoted as saying, “It’s been a fabulous year for Laura and me.” And in a more recent interview last month, he summed up his entire presidency as “a fabulous experience”.

Fabulous? Really? Not so much for the rest of us.

Maybe it’s just me, but when you are President during war time, you probably shouldn’t act like you are enjoying it quite so much. Maybe more time pondering the consequences of your actions and less time feeling fabulous…

Folks, let me apologize in advance because I feel a big rant coming on. I can’t contain myself any longer. This moron of a soon to be past-President is a disgrace and a stain on the reputation of the United States of America. No that’s not good enough yet. I’m feeling like one of those Dixie Chicks and I think I need to say some more. George Bush is an asshole and a real son of a bitch. And yes, I did meet Barbara Bush once and I am not taking that statement back.

I am making a request of future generations: The next time a village loses its idiot, please don’t elect him or her President. Thank you.

There, I feel a better… but only slightly.

My apologies to all you good people out there who stopped by to read what I have to say. You probably deserved better than that last little rant. But I am glad you stopped by and I do hope you will again. I mean it. Really.

If the shoe fits « Margaret and Helen

A contemporary history of teaching Maths in the UK

2008-12-15T20:29:00.000-08:00

(Old Cynic's Perspective)

1. Teaching Maths In 1970

A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is 4/5 of the price.
What is his profit?
2. Teaching Maths In 1980
A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or £80.
What is his profit?
3. Teaching Maths In 1990
A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is £80.
Did he make a profit?
4. Teaching Maths In 2000
A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is £80 and his profit is £20.
Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

5. Teaching Maths In 2008
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands.
He does this so he can make a profit of £20.
What do you think of this way of making a living?
Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes?
(There are no wrong answers. )
6. Teaching Maths In 2018
أ المسجل تبيع حموله شاحنة من الخشب من اجل 100 دولار. صاحب تكلفة
الانتاج من الثمن. ما هو الربح له؟

an Englishman in Osaka

2008-12-11T22:39:00.000-08:00

the gaijin dilemma

It's the stuff of nightmares for the gaijin in Japan. The thought of it is enough to send them running to the toilet. The reality of it is enough to cause profuse sweating and the breakout of an itchy rash in the nether regions.
The dilemma is whether to acknowledge fellow gaijin walking along the street. Don't let any gaijin tell you it's not a dilemma. In fact, the ones who pretend not to notice their fellow gaijin are the ones with the loudest voice in their head and the biggest knot in their stomach. It's written all over their face.
Their internal dialogue usually goes something like this:
"Oh, what a nice day, I think I'll go and.....oh shit is that a gaijin up ahead? Or just a Japanese person with blonde hair? Shit, it IS a gaijin. What shall I do? Acknowledge? Smile? Completely ignore him? If I smile and he doesn't, I'll feel like an idiot, and maybe it looks like I've just arrived in Japan yesterday and I'll look all naive and lost, but actually I've been here nine years and I know everything.
But hey, I'm friendly, why shouldn't I say hello? Maybe he's nice. He probably won't even look at me; pretend I'm not even here, pretend he hasn't seen me.
Shit, he's getting closer. Hey, he's looking the other way in a most unnatural fashion - so he's definitely seen me! He's looking all over the place, everywhere except AT ME. So he's going through the same hell as me right now. Moving into the critical zone now...I'll go for it....Hello."
Other gaijin: "Hello."

A gaijin with a red T-shirt and a red face.

an Englishman in Osaka

Mt Fuji at sunset

2008-12-07T06:52:00.000-08:00

We visited my beloved J-Mart DIY store this afternoon. On coming out, I was surprised to see Fuji san silouetted against the evening sky. It's not often that you get to see the mountain due to the cluttered skyline and photochemical haze that hangs over the city during the day. My shaky picture taken on a cellphone doesn't really do it justice. But it was a powerful and unexpected encounter with this most Japanese of icons, made all the more striking by its appearance in the most mundane of settings.

Fuji is an impressive sight. At 12,388 ft (3776m) it is the highest of Japan's many mountains. Even though it is around 60 miles away, it has a brooding presence that makes it seem far closer. I was surprised - and a little shocked - to learn that Fuji san is officially an active volcano, albeit with a low probablility of eruption. As someone who grew up in the comparatively benign environment of the British Isles I must admit to being quite terrified of volcanoes. I sometimes question the wisdom of moving to a country that boasts over 10% of the world's active ones! We Brits are not accustomed to thinking of Mother Nature as anything other than nurturing and obliging in her bountiful gifts. Here it's a different story. Of course it's a beautiful country, but there is an unspoken understanding that it is also a fragile one; for all its rich culture and its technological advances, Japan is completely at the mercy of Mother Nature. Fuji san awakening from its slumbers, for example, would be enough to turn Tokyo into an ash-choked wasteland.

As I gazed at Fuji san, it was a sobering thought that this dark silouette on the horizon had the power to change the lives of literally millions of people at a stroke - not the sort of apocolyptic vision likely to be encountered in the car park at B&Q Canterbury.

A historic day

2008-11-04T20:53:00.000-08:00

We’ve just watched the live announcement that Barack Obama has secured his place in history as the first African-American president of the USA. I feel the American people have done themselves proud, and in so doing have taken a big step towards healing the rifts and bridging the divides that cause so many problems in our world. I have felt from the outset of this campaign that what the world needs is a visionary, a healer and a reconciler of differences. I hope and pray that America has delivered that to all of us tonight.

Of John McCain, much as I have disagreed with his rhetoric, his speech conceding defeat to Obama was that of a true gentleman; a dignified and sincere plea to the American people to get behind the new president. Alas, the same could not be said for some of his more redneck supporters who booed at the mention of Obama’s name. But to my mind, this has what this campaign has been all about: The replacement of Bush’s simplistic, gun-toting, redneck world view with a more considered, intelligent and engaging attitude to the world and its different peoples and cultures. I would say that, judging by tonight’s emphatic vote, the American people agree with that sentiment. Well done America – you exemplify the true spirit of democracy.

Now all we need to do is great rid of those arseholes in Number 10, and maybe we can all move forward to a better world.

The journey begins

2008-11-03T07:34:00.000-08:00

I have now started training at my friend K-san’s dojo in central Tokyo. And what a marvellous experience it is. In the space of just one week I’ve managed to pack in no less than 9 hours solid training – that’s an incredible improvement over what I’m able to do in the UK. I don’t mind admitting a little nervousness at joining the dojo – I’d read some reports that the regime was a little harsh for Western tastes, but I was pleasantly surprised at how relaxed it actually was. I’m not sure what kind of training the guy who’s review I’d read was used to, but despite the fact that I’d not trained seriously for some months, I didn’t think it was too dissimilar to the sessions we are used to in the UK. Although after the first one, my legs were pretty painful and I’m still waiting for the skin to grow back on my feet. Still – it’s my own fault for being lazy, so no sympathy!

The standard of Iaido here is quire simply in a different class to the UK. I have a good friend who lived and studied here for a long time, and he always bemoans the standards in the UK. Now I can see very clearly what he means. I have been extremely fortunate to have had some personal instruction from my new 7th dan teacher, and the effect has been nothing short of dramatic. My cuts have suddenly taken on an expansive, powerful quality that is quite extraordinary. I feel quite sure my skill will increase in leaps and bounds with continued practice.

The class itself is held in an old school gym – very similar to the gym at Simon Langton's in Canterbury where I trained with K san and P last Summer. The only difference is the smell of the yakitori wafting in from a nearby restaurant – makes it pretty hard to concentrate when the old stomach starts rumbling!

All Japan Iaido Championships

2008-10-26T06:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I travelled up to Sendai with my friend and Iaido colleague K san for the All Japan Iaido Championships. This is an annual event that changes venue each year. This year’s host city, Sendai, lies about 300 miles north of Tokyo, necessitating a rather early start and a long drive – made all the more difficult, incidentally, by our ill-judged decision to dally overlong at Yebisu’s in Nishi Ogikubo last night. But I digress.

We arrived in Sendai City after a drive through some pretty spectacular scenery. The Kanda plain on which Tokyo sits is surrounded by mountains that rise suddenly and unexpectedly from the billiard-table flat countryside. It is an impressive landscape – perhaps due to its volcanic origins – quite unlike anything that I’ve seen in Europe; Steep mountains and deep valleys, all carpeted by dense forests. As we travelled north, the leaves became increasing tinged with gold and red – a tantalising preview of the spectacular display to be played out over the next few weeks.

The city’s sports hall is quite an impressive facility, and by the time we arrived, the competition was in full-swing. Unlike the Nationals in the UK, this competition appeared to be restricted to just 5th, 6th and 7th dan competitors. Consequently, the standard was – as you’d expect – pretty high. But what really surprised me was the number of very high grades there. In the UK, the highest grade we have is 7th dan and there is only a handful of them. Here, there are lots more, not to mention a surprisingly large number of 8th dans. I thought 8th dan was the highest possible, but apparently there are three 9th dans still alive and one of them gave a demonstration yesterday. Quite amazing – he must have been well into his 80s. There’s hope for me yet.

I met with my new sensei and was introduced to some of the other students and given the official OK to commence training, although it will be sometime before I am given any form of direct tuition. I have to prove I am serous first – just goes to show the limited value of my 2nd dan grade!

Along with the impressive Iaido,there were some pretty impressive toys on display yesterday. Each one of these swords is a shinken – a real, razor sharp sword forged in the traditional way by a certified swordsmith. And as you’d expect, each has a price tag to match. This selection started at about 65 man Yen – about £3,200.

By for me – the highpoint of the day was the mass demonstration by 7th and 8th dans. There were far too many great Iaido practitioners to take in in one go, but I did spot some fantastic techniques. Oshita sensei – perhaps the most important teacher for UK Iaido – was just below where we were sitting in the balcony, impressive as always. But just one of many, many other great displays.

Japan:Take nothing for granted

2008-10-23T07:19:00.000-07:00

Sea Breeze is quite a good name for a shower gel I guess – conjuring up images of bracing sea air, the exhilaration of the briny spray with a hint of wind-swept manliness thrown in. Combined with it’s attractive sea-blue bottle, these factors swayed me in its favour over its – frankly – rather effete competitors. However Sea Breeze proved to be a little more appropriate in its name than I bargained for.

Say the word “congestion” and probably the next thing you think of is “menthol” – of course renown for its ability to clear blocked sinuses and ease the breathing. One can almost picture the chain of thought that led the product designers to that eureka moment where Sea Breeze acquired its magically invigorating powers. Yes, you’ve guessed it. Menthol shower gel.

On the face of it, it doesn’t sound too bad. And on the face of it, it isn’t. However it’s a slightly different story when Sea Breeze meets the slightly more delicate parts of one’s anatomy. If you’re not expecting it, a sudden warming sensation in the nether regions can be a slightly alarming experience. There may be a warning on the bottle I suppose – but there’s no way I could have know. Perhaps I should suggest some typically cute graphic indication of the likely effects of Sea Breeze when applied inappropriately – Miffy the Rabbit clutching his nuts with a pained expression perhaps?

Byoin ni ikimasu

2008-10-17T07:11:00.000-07:00

The Beerhound locks have become rather unkempt of late and so, after a courage-bolstering trip to Yebi-san’s fine drinking and yakitori establishment near to Nishi Ogikubo station, I decided to take the plunge and have a haircut. The problem was – where to go?

To be more precise, which of the roughly hundred thousand barbers, stylists and hairdressers within a 1km radius I should visit. I’ve never seen such a high concentration of hair-care specialists in such a small geographic area. It’s almost like every other shop is something to do with hairstyling. Having neat hair is clearly a major preoccupation of the good people of Nishi Ogikubo, only narrowly eclipsing their enthusiasm for stamping their names on things – judging by the number of hanko shops.

I finally chose a place quite close to our house. Big M tried to explain to the barber what I wanted: Out came the styling books; in true Japanese style, the conversation ranged far and wide, encompassing every aspect of my life. The hair should be short, because of physical pursuits such as running and martial arts. Yet not overly so because of my professional life and the fact that short hair tends to make me look a little too aggressive (moi?). Inevitably, the delicate subject of my bald spot popped up in the conversation.

Yes it’s true, certain areas of the Beerhound bonce are a little threadbare. Being 6ft 2 means that few people here every get to see it, but for the record, I don’t really have a problem with it. All my angst was worked out many years ago – the Summer I first got a sun-burnt head! However, being the consummate professional, the barber tentatively raised the prospect of “the barcode”

The term “barcode” rather accurately describes the effect on the average Japanese male of what we in England would call the “comb-over” or “Bobby Charlton”.

There is no power on Earth that would ever induce me to indulge in this most transparent of self-delusions. Nothing could look so ridiculous, nor reveal so much about the fragile sense of self-worth of its wearer, than the comb-over.

Not that I need it, anyway.

Brown should come here if he wants to see how a government dept should be run

2008-10-14T01:11:00.000-07:00

After my previous post (see below) I wanted to contrast my experience with the Japanese authorities while applying for residence, and that of Big M’s in the UK. Basically, there is no comparison whatsoever. In the UK, we were treated like criminals – forced to cough up thousands of pounds, forced to enrol in English classes we didn’t need and finally subjected to the totally demeaning and utterly pointless ~~New Labour Propaganda~~ Life in the UK test. The total cost of all this, just for my wife and stepdaughter to stay in the country, was in excess of £2,500. We had to travel twice to the disgusting Home Office Immigration facility in Croydon, carrying a truly ridiculous amount of supporting paperwork that required an entire archive box. We were forced to wait in the cold and rain with no toilet facilities; when we were eventually allowed in the building we were searched like thieves and treated like absolute shit.

Contrast this with Japan. The application for a marriage visa took one visit to the very pleasant Japanese embassy in London. Even though there was an irregularity with our paperwork, the staff were unfailing helpful and polite and the problem was sorted out easily. Total cost: £5

In Japan, the application for residence took just one visit to city hall and about a 20 minute wait while they processed the application. Cost: £0

I returned one week later to collect my card and register my stamp (see below) Cost: About 25p

Just a little bit different to rip-off Britain!

If there is any UK resident reading this that is contemplating settling in the UK with their Japanese spouse (or any other non-EU passport holder for that matter), my advice simply is – don’t even think about it. I would say that trying to start our family life in England was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made.

Feels like I’m here to stay

2008-10-14T00:52:00.000-07:00

This morning I went to city hall to collect my gaijin card. This basically is my permission to live and work freely in Japan and it’s what all foreigners who want to stay here strive to achieve. For foreigners arriving here in the hope of getting a job, the gaijin card can prove a major obstacle; you can’t get a job without it and you can’t get a card without a job! But of course for me it’s been pretty easy thanks to the missus.

The other major acquisition today was my personal seal (hanko) which people here use instead of a signature. I found a place around the corner that produced mine for about £25, complete with a smart black case with built-in ink pad. While I was at city hall I also registered my stamp so I can now do things like opening bank accounts etc.

With these two bits of personal administration sorted out, I feel a lot more settled and it really is starting to feel like home now.

The taste of Autumn

2008-10-12T18:27:00.000-07:00

Last night we visited a place called Masa Yakitori. As well as yakitori,the place is famous for its fine selection of sake. we chose the ginjo selection -5 representative offerings from the genre. very tasty. Looking at the picture it appears I missed one of the bottles. Can't image how that happened

A stroll in the park

2008-10-05T06:34:00.000-07:00

This morning we got up early (for us!) and went for a stroll in nearby Inokashira Park. It was an absolutely beautiful morning. The trees in the park are just beginning to be kissed with Autumn gold, but the weather is still pleasantly warm. There is something about the light here that is extraordinarily beautiful – the trees in the distance are rendered a kind of smoky blue that is extremely evocative of classic Japanese art and paintings. Even though there are loads of people in the park on a day like today, somehow the crowds seem to do little to spoil the tranquillity and elegant beauty of the place. It is quite the most wonderful haven of timeless peace in a sea of frantic urbanisation.

Following the trail

2008-10-04T05:42:00.000-07:00

Last night I made contact with my iaido friend and mentor here in Japan. We had a very pleasant evening discussing the state of iaido, both here and in the UK and catching up on all the latest news. He mentioned that he had already talked to his teacher about me joining the dojo, and the teacher has said I would be very welcome. I am thrilled by this. It has been an ambition of mine to train in Japan for nearly as long as I’ve been involved with martial arts, which is quite a long time now. Hopefully this dream will come true soon, although I’m sure I will have plenty of moments when I wished it hadn’t – the training here is considerably harder than in the UK. But you know what they say, no pain – no gain.

On the train home, I got to thinking about the traditions of my school, and the value that such a long heritage imparts to the style. In particular, how fortunate I have been to have struck lucky in the lottery of martial arts instruction; my path leading from humble beginnings in Sidcup all the way to Tokyo and who knows where else.

Embarking upon a course of instruction in any martial art is like arriving by boat in a wide river delta. From the perspective of the visitor, all the little streams and channels look pretty much alike. It’s only once you have ventured down them that you discover whether they are quiet backwaters, silted-up tributaries or whether they broaden and deepen, joining with other streams, allowing you to navigate further into the fertile hinterlands of knowledge and wisdom that lie beyond.

I have indeed been fortunate to have chosen just such a path. I just hope my frail little ship has the stamina and constitution to survive the rigours of the journey that awaits.

The jaded Buddha

2008-09-26T18:01:00.000-07:00

“It’s all very well being enlightened, but what I really wanted was a sports car."

Ross Noble

The British weather renamed

2008-09-26T01:05:00.000-07:00

In deference to The Archbishop of Canterbury and The Royal Commission for Political Correctness:

It was announced today that the local climate in the UK should no longer be referred to as .''British Weather.' Rather than offend a sizable portion of the population, it will now be referred to as 'Muslim Weather.'

In other words - 'partly Sunni, but mostly Shi'ite.

Intrigue & scandal at the post office

2008-09-25T06:04:00.000-07:00

The tranquility of Shoan 2 has been rocked by a series of scandals involving someone who clearly has a grudge against the Japanese Postal Service. Big M went to post some letters today, but when she got to the post box, it had been sealed up. And it wasn’t just one – they all had. After questioning the bird behind the counter, it appears that they’d been having a problem with somebody who’d been smearing poo over the post office window. But not content with that, they’ve now started shoving it into letter boxes as well. Bizarre – the work of a disgruntled post-stool worker perhaps? Sorry – couldn’t resist it.

Pie wa tabemashita ga dare desu ka?

2008-09-23T07:17:00.000-07:00

In an effort to tackle my burgeoning waistline and get me back into some kind of shape in advance of joining a iaido dojo, myself and Big M ventured along to the local sports club for a look. Like you’d expect, it was very impressive: 3 floors consisting of very well equipped multi-gym, swimming pools, saunas and even an indoor golf practice room. Amazing. We were shown around by an enthusiastic young chap, clearly excited to have a gaijin to talk to.

The culmination of our visit was a detailed analysis of body composition carried out by a machine that looked like Captain Kirk’s bathroom scales. After being instructed to stand on metal plates, clasping an electrode in each hand, the machine proceeded to probe the mysteries of the Beerhound physique, concluding – with commendable accuracy –that I was a fat bastard. Impressive thought it was, I couldn’t help thinking a glance in the mirror would have probably sufficed.

A new chapter begins

2008-09-19T05:48:00.000-07:00

I’m now finishing my first week in Japan, having being wafted here with Teutonic efficiency by those nice people at Lufthansa. Even getting the sword through customs proved an absolute breeze – however I’m sure getting it back into Britain won’t be quite so easy.

The place hasn’t changed much in my absence – i.e. junk and clutter everywhere. I’m not sure if this decor scheme is actually some kind of post-earthquake look or what. It’s bloody annoying, although to be fair the big problem is lack of available storage space. A shortfall that yours truly and his toolbox has already been called upon to remedy. No rest for the wicked.

Yet, for all the tasks waiting for my attentions, it is good to be back. I don’t know what it is, but I sleep so much better here. Monday night I slept for a straight 14 hours. And I needed it, after the traumas of the last 6 weeks.

Today we went to Suginami City Hall so I can register as an alien and get my infamous “gaijin card”. When issued, all foreigners have to carry this card with them at all times because they can be stopped by the police and asked for it in any circumstances. If you don’t have it, it’s “nick ni ikimasho, watashi no furui chugoku sara” – “let’s visit the nick shall we, my old china plate?”

Our American cousins (and I suspect the PC brigade in the UK) really hate this idea of being “picked-on” to produce ID papers on demand just because you are a foreigner. But I can’t see what the problem is. It’s their country and they have every right to wish to protect themselves from the kind of international miscreants that the UK falls over itself to welcome. I say, good luck to them. If you follow the rules and have done nothing wrong, there’s no problem.

I guess in the UK it’s different insofar as if you jump through all the right hoops (and pay their extortionate blackmail fees) you can eventually “become British” – whatever that means. Here it’s different: You are welcome to come and settle, as long as you obey the rules, but you will NEVER be Japanese. Again, I don’t really have a problem with that because I am not (nor, despite a deep affection for the country and its people, do I want to become) one.

However I can see that this status of “gaijin” might begin to become irritating after I begin paying taxes and medical insurance to my host country (next month!). One would like to think that participating financially in society would allow one to also participate socially and politically as equals. But not so. Mind you – looking at the so-called democracy in the UK, I can’t see much difference.

Oh..apart from the fact, there’s very little crime here, the streets are clean, there’s no stupid laws that penalise the law-abiding, the trains work, the cost of living is reasonable… etc etc

Time to go

2008-09-14T12:35:00.000-07:00

Well, it’s finally here: After months of planning and weeks of relentless struggle and heartbreak, I’ll finally be on my way tomorrow morning. Assuming the taxi turns up, and there’s no screw-ups at the airport, of course. It’s always unwise to underestimate this country’s ability to scupper the best-laid plans, so until my bum is firmly ensconced in seat 50K bound for Tokyo, I think my blood pressure will remain at the "High” setting.

I feel a bit in limbo at the moment. Not quite here, but not there either. I truly don’t know what’s waiting for me in Japan. I don’t know what will happen with the business over the next 6 months. I really am flying by the seat of my pants; risking absolutely everything on a wing and a prayer. But whatever happens, it’s sure to be an adventure – and the adventure of a lifetime at that.

I keep questioning myself over my motivation; why am I doing it? Why, at 46 am I not content with slippers and the 9 to 5? The truth is, I don’t really know. There is something inside me that just keeps driving me on. I don't know what I'm searching for, or even if I'll know when I find it. But search I must. One part of me really yearns for the stability of the unadventurous, the provincial; craving only routine and the certainty that nothing will ever happen to upset that cosy, safe existence. But there’s no way I could ever live like that; I’ve always pushed further, reached higher and dreamt bigger than my contemporaries. Perhaps foolishly so.

I think the force that overrides the inertia of my passive side can be simply summarised: I want to able to say on my death-bed, that I really did seize every opportunity to experience life; I really did take every chance to learn and grow and expand my mind to take in as much of this crazy world as I could. If attaining wisdom, becoming a more experienced, capable, benevolent and understanding human being is not the goal of life, then I have indeed been a fool. However, I have a hunch I won’t be proved wrong in the end.

The Last beer in Canterbury

2008-09-13T08:57:00.000-07:00

I visited Canterbury one last time today. At last the weather smiled long enough to be able to enjoy a beer in a pub garden, and so it was I found myself sitting in the Unicorn's very satisfactory little garden. Today's trip was mainly about shopping - particularly the things I can't get easily in Japan, like shoes. Not to mention trousers to fit my inexorably swelling waistband. I've really got to do something about that. I also bought a couple of cashmere scarves for the girls, and some very expensive chocolates. And finally, I bought a mini-cathedral for Big M's model house collection. All in all, a very pleasant day.

But also a rather strange one. I had to remind myself that home was no longer a short walk from the High Street. I will miss Canterbury. For all the trials and ordeals that I've suffered here, I feel Canterbury will always be "home" - at least in a spiritual sense. Yet it also feels like time to move on. So despite the odd pang of regret, I'm very much looking forward to the next period in my life. I am sure it will turn out to be just as frustrating, bewildering, taxing and punishing as establishing a homestead in Canterbury. I hope it also turns out to have been similarly worth the effort.

Canterbury from the University

2008-09-13T07:15:00.000-07:00

Today there's an art exhibition in Canterbury. I saw this watercolour and I bloody wish I'd painted it. Perhaps one day I will.

Goodbye to an old and trusted friend

2008-09-12T05:36:00.000-07:00

This morning saw the departure of our faithful and long-suffering family car to the great car park in the sky. I was very sad to see it go. Spookily, it actually broke down for the first time since we’ve had it this morning – which I find almost unbelievable. It’s like it knew.

Only in Japan - Mayonnaise Margheritas!

2008-09-10T02:11:00.000-07:00

As reported in the excellent Gaijin Tonic blog.

“Oh blimey, what next? Koji Nakamura, a typically inventive Japanese bartender in Tokyo, makes cocktails with mayonnaise. You might think he was incredibly drunk when he came up with the idea, but Koji is obsessed with mayo and even runs a restaurant in Western Tokyo called “Mayonnaise Kitchen” (the Japanese actually have a name for mayonnaise fanatics- mayolers.)
Koji’s creamy cocktails include the “Mayogarita”, and the “Mayoty Dog” (which has mayo instead of salt around the rim.)
I’d have to be pretty far gone to drink one of these horrific concoctions, and have a sick bucket close at hand.”

That makes two of us - Beerhound

The illusion of credibility

2008-09-09T18:17:00.000-07:00

The trouble with being a Beerhound is that when Bacchus’ hand weighs heavily upon your shoulder, one is forced to seek sustenance from the nearest hospitable watering hole. In this instance, that happens to be Rye’s 1940’s pub. Much as it irks me to provide any kind of encouragement to such an ill-conceived and – frankly -crap establishment, a beer is a beer and when you need one, you need one. Thus it was that I found myself once again darkening the door of the most bizarre drinking establishment yet encountered in these parts. Actually, in any parts I have yet had the good fortune to visit.

I tend to keep myself to myself in this particular establishment. I don’t particularly wish to be drawn into conversation with the owners or clientele (such that it is) of the place. Privacy is part of that, but mainly it’s because I really quite resent the arrogance of these pseudo middle-class tossers who think they can invade a town like Rye and turn into Islington-On-Sea. And - my God – they were out in force tonight.

Allow me to set the scene:

A semi-deserted 1940’s themed bar; bereft of customers, except for a couple of dinner guests and a solitary (though ruggedly handsome, wind-swept and interesting) guy sat in the corner. The owner, clad in pristine chef’s whites unsullied by culinary labours, sits drowning his sorrows on the wrong side of the bar. It transpires that the dinner guests are also recent migrants to these parts, and inevitably, the conversation with the hosts turns to where Rye is going wrong with regards to its marketing, and where Manchester is going wrong with its football team. In other words, bullshit about things these idiots have absolutely no connection with, or understanding of.

There seems to be a trend for these pseudo middle class types to associate themselves with football clubs and with regions like Rye – presumably in an effort to give themselves some kind of inverse social cache. They talk about Man U as being “my club” in an accent that has clearly never ventured further north than Fulham. They discuss matters in Rye as if they have been here for generations. They haven’t. Nor will they be.

Like so much in Britain under Labour, it’s all an illusion; The footy-supporting credibility, the business acumen, the ersatz intellectualism. Even their much-flaunted personal wealth relies entirely on a vastly-overvalued property market and bank borrowing, both of which look set to evaporate in the near future. I fervently hope that the coming financial tempests will sweep these idiots back into the mainstream of mediocrity where they belong.

*UPDATE*

My Rye correspondent informs me that the Beerhound crystal ball has proven once more to be unnervingly accurate: The 1940’s-loving owners have disappeared over the horizon, leaving a load of unpaid bills and disgruntled local suppliers. Like I said – Tossers!

The mysteries of the east

2008-09-02T11:37:00.000-07:00

As regular readers will know, I am subject to frequent borrockings from the missus. Some are deserved; some come about due to cultural misunderstandings and some are just unfair. Occasionally, I get ones that are just plain inexplicable, and today saw just such an occurrence.

The Japanese side of the family has been noticeably non-communicative today, despite several prompts. Finally, I just got a cryptic message letting me know what a disappointment I am and nothing else. Why? your guess is as good as mine.

Sometimes its impossible to fathom what’s going on in that head of hers. I’ve racked my brains to try and think of what I might have done wrong this time, but to no avail. So I suspect it will remain a mystery. At least for the time being. In the meantime, I shall rise above it by exercising a Zen-like detachment from the confusion and emotional turbulence of the existential world; in other words, ignore it.

Where were you when I needed you?

2008-08-30T03:03:00.000-07:00

I’ve finally found the source of information and support I have so desperately sought over the last 4 years in the shape of a guide book to Japanese women. Kind of an owner’s manual, if you like. The 160-page booklet has done so much to explain the odd behaviour of the wife, and put my mind at rest that I am not alone in experiencing these difficulties. But more than that, it has given me an insight into the relationship from the Japanese perspective, which I’m sure will prove invaluable.

The interesting part is that I can now see much more clearly which of the problems we experience can be attributed to cultural differences and which are just her (or me, for that matter). For example, the gender roles differ greatly in Japanese society – seemingly very antiquated from our modern Western standpoint. And yet, they are not so dissimilar to the standards of behaviour which were the norm here in perhaps the 1950’s. The man is expected to be a man; strong, silent and capable of handling problems with no complaints. The women rely almost entirely on the men to protect and provide for them: there is very little shared responsibility of the sort we’ve grown accustomed to here. Men are expected to take the lead in everything outside the home and act decisively when making arrangements. Looking back over the early part of our relationship, I can remember quite a few occasions where I was far too “Western”; doing what I thought was the gentlemanly thing and allowing the lady to make the arrangements for visits or things like that.

One really interesting example of how the cultural differences can easily be misinterpreted is our habit of holding doors open for ladies to enter. This seemingly genteel behaviour is viewed as anything but in Japan, where the custom is exactly the opposite: Men go in first always. To our Western eyes, images of swaggering bigots barging into restaurants while their demure wives struggle along behind appears extremely sexist. But not so. In reality, this custom dates from Samurai times, when potential danger lurked behind every doorway. The men would enter first so as not to expose his wife and family to any risks which lay beyond. Far from being the act of a chauvinist, it is in fact an act of selfless courage and love. Interpreted in this way, our seemingly quaint custom of holding open doors for ladies appears utterly cowardly and the act of a total cad. This is the perfect illustration of just how complicated things can get when crossing cultural boundaries.

2008-08-29T11:39:00.000-07:00

The possibility of time travel has long been a topic of speculation by sci-fi writers. Will it one day be possible? Well, your humble scribe is thrilled to confirm that time travel is indeed a reality. Venturing out for a quiet pint in Rye, I appear to have inadvertedly travelled through a time warp back to about 1950.

Either that, or I've walked into the most ill-conceived theme pub in the history of licensed hostelry.

All this makes games night at the Phoenix seem positively normal

The Last Supper

2008-08-26T15:25:00.000-07:00

Tonight is my last night in Randolph Close. Tired though I am, this was not a night to go unmarked. A trip to the Phoenix was essential, and a very pleasant evening it was too. Now back home, I’m lying on a mattress on the floor of our bedroom, listening to Radio 4, eating Marmite on toast and drinking sake. I can’t think of a more fitting cross-cultural culinary tribute to our time here.

A lesson learned

2008-08-25T13:53:00.000-07:00

Another day of toil; a bigger pile of rubbish and more problems. It’s looking increasingly likely I’m going to have to just give away some expensive items like the tumble drier and Little M’s bed because I can’t find any takers. My mum said to just do it and forget about it; “You’ve done your best so you can’t do any more.” She is right.

Although she doesn’t know it, she’s reminded me of one of my most important philosophies – that of letting go of things that don’t matter anymore. In Wing Chun, the striking fist contains energy only at the moment of impact: Too soon, and strength is wasted and the blow becomes slow and cumbersome; too late and the energy contained in the striking limb can easily be turned against you and your whole body unbalanced. Life is a bit like that sometimes. Everything has it’s right time for action; a right time for energy to be focused into it. Like the striking limb that’s too tense, putting energy into things at the wrong time can actually work against a successful conclusion. Holding on to something – expending emotional energy on something - that is no longer of use is just as damaging. I think there is a passage in the Hagakure of Yamamoto Tsunetomo that says something like “Waste no time on useless things.” This is sound advice.

A central tenet of Zen Buddhist philosophy is that all human suffering derives from our attachment to things that are impermanent. Possessions, money – even life itself – are impermanent constructs and will one day slip through our fingers like water. Perhaps a lesson from today is that rather than expending energy on trying to hold onto things that can’t be held, I should be celebrating and be thankful for the good things that they represented when they were part of our lives here in Canterbury.

A new day brings no relief

2008-08-25T01:25:00.000-07:00

Another day dawns over the wreckage of our home. I was pretty down last night when I went to bed, and now in the cold light of day I’m even more demoralised by the mountain of problems that still have to be overcome. Just 3 minutes with pen and paper has filled an A4 sheet with tasks that must be completed within the next 24 hours. This marathon is taking every ounce of courage and fortitude I possess to endure. Last night I found a picture of me from 2004, slim fit and glowing with health. You wouldn’t recognise me now – burnt-out, haggard, decrepit and out of shape. I must be crazy to put myself though all this. And, I keep asking myself, for what?

I am still really fuming with Big M over her attitude. I have resolved to cut her out of my life until I get everything sorted out. She’s bloody useless anyway, so nothing lost.

The wrong trousers

2008-08-24T15:57:00.000-07:00

Another exhausting and demoralising day in limbo draws to a close, and I’m sitting here beer in hand trying to make sense of the day and formulate a set of objectives for tomorrow. All this against a backdrop of sniping and criticism from “’Er indoors”. Today’s moral-sapping exchange involved the arrangements for the disposal of our dishwasher. Sorry, I meant Big M’s dishwasher. In our marriage, everything that I own is hers and everything she owns is her own. Seems fair.

Our, sorry, her dishwasher got roasted in an incident with the central heating boiler in our old house. It is the Simon Weston of dishwashers; perfectly functional but a little odd to look at. Consequently, it has a resale value of around £0. Actually rather less than that, as you’d probably have to pay someone to take it away. In that kind of situation, I’d rather it go somewhere where it will do some good. We met a young couple a little while ago. The guy has just finished training as a teacher and is trying to get his first posting. With a young child as well, a financial situation that must be a little challenging. So I thought they’d be able to give our dishwasher a good home. The offer was gratefully received. That was until the news reached Japan.

Now apparently “she will never speak to them again”. And of course, it’s all my fault. Apparently, I was not authorised to get rid of “her” dishwasher, even though she has done nothing to assist in its disposal. Nor with any of the other significant consumer durables that have to be out of this house by 9am Thursday morning. Her parting shot was that, apparently, she has such a hard life, thereby making it impossible for her to take a more active role in the moving process.

Yeah, right.

Apart from preparing three meals, I struggle to comprehend what she actually does all day: But after several days with my hand in the Flash bucket, I can personally attest that whatever it is, it’s not housework. Without putting too fine a point on it, this place is absolutely filthy. The bathroom, the cooker, the cupboards have obviously not been touched for most of the time we’ve been here. This has led me to question the role of the Japanese wife in the marital home; specifically – have I just got a duff one or are they all this bloody useless?

It appears that they are.

Over the last few days – and today in particular, I’ve been privy to some quite frank exchanges with Westerners married to Japanese women. It appears that I am not alone. Many people concede that their Japanese wives are invariably demanding, often dissatisfied, moody, critical, unsympathetic, selfish, lazy around the house and just bloody hard work a lot of the time. Now, I found this quite shocking: Whereas on one level, I was quite relieved that I’m not alone in experiencing feelings of exasperation, on another was the chilling realisation that this bunny-boiling behaviour might actually be considered the norm in Japanese society. It would certainly explain the high number of suicides and drunken salarymen on the late night trains in Tokyo – too scared to go home to face “She who must be obeyed”.

However it doesn’t explain why on Earth such women apparently crave the open-minded Western-style marriage.

And of course the same us true of us; What did I – and do I – expect from my Japanese wife? From my perspective, I am not expecting the values and demeanour of a Western woman, and I’m certainly not expecting the mythical demure and submissive Japanese wife of legend. As a fair-minded, easy-going sort of character, I couldn’t think of anything worse, actually. But by the same token, there’s no way that I intend to live my life as a Salaryman doormat, and it’s really unfair for them to expect us Westerners to do so.

Our attitude is, I think, one of equanimity: we expect to have to adapt our ways to that of our host culture, and we do so out of respect. We, as husbands, expect the same courtesy. We don’t want to become Japanese, not do we expect our wives to become Europeans. But it would be nice if – sometimes – we could just meet in the middle. This can’t happen without effort on both sides. At the moment, this cordiality doesn’t seem to be happening in my marriage.

Tired and tested

2008-08-23T13:39:00.000-07:00

I am currently lying on my bed, trying my best to keep a positive mental attitude to the trials and tribulations that lay in the immediate future. For despite Herculean efforts from everyone involved – especially my mum who has really bust a gut to help out – there remains a mountain of problems to solve and very little time left to do so. The pile of trash in the yard has grown to Alpine proportions, with still more stuff to go on tomorrow. Yet I still have a tumble drier, a dishwasher, a sofa and Little M’s ‘Princess’ bed to get rid of. I’m pretty worried that I’ll just have to throw them away. That would seem a criminal waste.

I feel a strong sense of déjà-vu; the same empty despondency that I felt when I had to walk away from my house and all my beautiful furniture in 2001. I know it’s not quite the same this time around, but the feeling of having worked so hard and achieved precisely nothing is extremely, and depressingly familiar. I feel I’ve just travelled in a huge and expensive circle just to end up where I started. I just hope it will all make sense in the end.

Completely stuffed

2008-08-23T01:39:00.000-07:00

If they were giving out Olympic medals for packing storage units, we’d have definitely struck gold yesterday.

More or less the entire contents of a three bedroomed house condensed into a mere 35 square feet unit with not even a fag-paper’s width to spare. Even the guys from the moving company didn’t think we’d do it. But all those years packing trucks on the road clearly weren’t wasted!

There is no way any of that stuff is coming out anytime soon. In fact I think that given the density with which it’s packed, the biggest danger is a black hole forming in the middle!

The world’s dimmest bank (staff)

2008-08-22T05:32:00.000-07:00

There’s nothing quite like the level of irritation that can be achieved when the thin veil of marketing bullshit is ripped asunder to reveal a reality of total incompetence. Such was the case today with my experience at HSBC – the one that likes to portray itself as the “world’s local bank”.

The wife has an HSBC account. She is in Tokyo and needs to get some money from her account. Japan has cash machines that work with UK cash cards. Tokyo has a branch of HSBC. You’d be excused for thinking that, in such circumstances, the withdrawal of a few Yen from a local cash machine would present few problems for a customer of ‘the world’s local bank’. You’d be wrong, of course.

It appears that HSBC is only the world’s local bank for people within the UK. Travel beyond the borders of Great Britain and HSBC immediately blocks your card from being used unless you have informed them in advance. How convenient.

Especially if, like my missus, you don’t speak English that well. So it now appears that the world's local bank is only local if a) you are in the UK and b) you speak English.

So basically, the situation is this: The wife is in Tokyo with a bank card she can't use. The Tokyo branch if HSBC can't deal with UK accounts and the wife can't understand HSBC's outstandingly obscure and utterly ridiculous automated phone banking service. And when she does eventually get through to a human being..."Hello, my name is Gupta...." - an imbecile who can barely speak English himself. So, basically, that's the end of the conversation.

I really didn't want to get involved in this, but I felt duty bound to try and get somebody within HSBC to carry out the simple task of unblocking the wife's card so she can get her money. Given that we have between us 4 bank accounts at HSBC, and that I've been a customer for over 10 years, you'd think that would be easy. Wrong again. I hadn't reckoned on the potent combination of the Data Protection Act as administered by the inept pillocks that HSBC refer to (without a trace of irony) as “customer support executives”.

I knew I was in trouble as soon as I walked into the branch: I counted at least six vacant-looking junior bank staff hovering around the “customer support desk” like a bunch of lobotomised vultures. My objective was to carve my way through this cannon fodder as quickly as possible in the hope of reaching someone with a brain. The first idiot was dispatched easily enough: The glassy, uncomprehending gaze that greeted my query showed that with one telling blow I had taken this doorstop well beyond her comfort zone. “I’ll get my supervisor”, she stuttered. Next up was the 20 year old expert. “I’m a customer services advisor, actually”, he sneered as he stood arms folded in front of me. “That’s nice”, I retorted. “Now run along and find someone who knows about banking, there’s a good boy.” Ego crushed, he skulked away muttering. I was ushered into a cubicle, wherein sat a girl of perhaps 24 years, with an IQ to match. “You want to draw some money out in Japan?” enquired the animated vegetable. My eyes turned skyward as I uttered a silent prayer for strength in what promised to be an epic – and as it turned out, pointless – quest to get someone to empathise with my predicament. “No, you don’t quite understand,” I said as quietly and as gently as my rising tide of irritation would allow.

What followed was 40 minutes of pure Victor Meldrew-style mayhem, eventually involving the branch manager (IQ 30) and various drones from the HSBC call centre (with a collective IQ in minus figures). I won’t go into the various tortuous paths my arguments took as I tried to illuminate what was clearly a difficult concept for them to grasp. But essentially, my point was this: My wife would like to get her money;she can’t because you’ve blocked her card. She can’t unblock her card because she can’t understand the instructions that Gupta in your call centre is giving her. As well as effectively being robbed by the bank, this means of course that she also can’t tell them about a change of address, meaning that all her bank statements will now be seen by whoever ends up living here next. They won’t talk to me, citing Data Protection as justification, while completely failing to grasp the fact that their actions will inevitably result in exactly the situation the Data Protection Act was intended to prevent.

In other words, they are plain bloody stupid. The kind of wooden plank, arrogant stupidity that denies any possibility of responding to a reasoned argument. You’d have more luck talking to the desk. I even tried that at one point, but to no avail.

I find it hard to understand how every one of these morons has probably got a zillion A levels and yet they are functioning at the intellectual level of a turnip. What happened to initiative? Empathy? An appreciation of the fact that rules sometimes need to be relaxed? Why can’t they just do what is obviously the right thing to do instead of repeating the rule book parrot-fashion? The answer is; education, education, education – or lack thereof.

Freak night at the Phoenix

2008-08-11T23:56:00.000-07:00

I popped along to the Phoenix last evening to drop some rosemary and bay leaves in to Auntie Lynda -the product of yesterday afternoon’s gardening frenzy. I was not prepared for what I found.

Monday night is Games Night at the Phoenix.

Now, at its best the Phoenix is an odd pub; An entry on one pub listing website simply notes, “Odd clientele”. But Monday night is clearly when the real hardcore oddballs come out to play.

“One half of lime and lemonade please”, ordered one reckless maverick. Easy tiger. One of his game-playing compatriots went crazy and ordered half of bitter and nearly a whole glass of wine for his wife. Clearly we weren’t going to set any records for wet sales this evening. More misfits gradually slipped into the bar until there were eight or so grouped around the table; warily eyeing each other over their shandies like a bunch of ineffectual, limp-wristed cowboys gathered around a poker table.

As the ginger beer flowed, tongues were loosened, and in that peculiar high-pitched, droning monologue of the terminally dull, the sad, empty existence of these less-than-colourful characters stood starkly revealed. One couple had apparently travelled from as far away as Ashford to chance their luck in the cut and thrust world of Scrabble. That’s what I call living on the edge.

I think if that was me, alarm bells would be ringing if I had to drive 20 miles just to find another couple to play Scrabble with.

Each to his own, and I have no right to criticise what others do for fun. Yet even so I found it hard to fight the rising tide of hysterical giggles prompted by this Python-esque gathering. So with good grace, I retired for the evening and left these hard-bitten gamblers to their devil-may-care entertainment.

Musashino Musings

The road to third dan

Chi-chi-chi – le – le - le

The long,hot Summer

A trip around the world

Worlds in motion

Samurai Blue bow out

No explanation necessary….

Overpriced, overrated and sub-standard – and that’s just the shirt!

A dream come true – in more ways than one

You’re ‘kin nicked, me old china

A fragile haven of peace and tranquility

Beautiful location – shame about the neighbour

‘ello, ‘ello, ‘ello - 何が、ここでありますか？

A moment of clarity

Festival time in Nishiogi

Doubting Thomas gets twatted

Nihongo wa totemo musokashii desu ne?

What a difference a day makes

Twists and turns on the road to ruin

Hung parliament? Not a bad idea

Lows, highs and my eternal gratitude for both

Oh shit!

Oarfish omen spells earthquake disaster for Japan

Time to Replace the Chapel window?

Relaxation and reflection

Tokyo Dome Matsuri – a treat for the senses

A decade of shame

Warmed by the prayers of others

Avatar delivers as promised – almost

Why men shouldn’t write advice columns

A very modern Xmas…

Happy birthday Dr Sagan

Nothing to report

Kokonatsu wo shikkari tsugan de! – taifu juhachi wa kimasu

A dream come true

No luck in Tama but philosophical in defeat

Silver Week – sterling performance

Desiderata Mages 2009

ブラーヂ ガイジン

New technology solves a long-standing problem

A whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on

The mysterious case of the Austrian-style townhouse

Of intense heat, intense training, mad dogs and Englishmen

Cherie Blair has suspected swine flu - Telegraph

One year in Japan

Apologies for absence

Japan:Take nothing for granted

A familiar face

Amazon.co.uk: Customer Reviews: Bic Crystal Ballpoint Pen, Medium Point, Black

A joyful reunion

A lesson from Confucius

Reverse Culture Shock Hits

A pint at last

Let's Learn Japanese: Kuuki Yomenai

Let's Learn Japanese: Kuuki Yomenai

Back to the UK

Some thoughts on war & peace

The world’s worst Mt. Fuji picture

New Year at Sensouji

Monjaiyaki – A tasty treat

Welcoming 2009

Farewell to 2008

Old Christmas, New Year

A stiff drink

Great expectations

よBloody ほほ (yo bloody ho ho)

If the shoe fits « Margaret and Helen

A contemporary history of teaching Maths in the UK

an Englishman in Osaka

Mt Fuji at sunset

A historic day

The journey begins

All Japan Iaido Championships

Japan:Take nothing for granted

Byoin ni ikimasu

Brown should come here if he wants to see how a government dept should be run

Feels like I’m here to stay

The taste of Autumn

A stroll in the park

ブラーヂ　ガイジン