Picture that

The year is almost up, and we still haven't sent any Christmas cards or the New Year postcards you are supposed to send over here. So, apologies. Been a bit busy, but thanks to those who did send cards and e-mail. Instead, how about some photos I took that haven't made it to any blogs yet?

Photo 1: Emma finds a comfortable spot to cat-nap

Reggie Perrin's worst nightmare

I came across this video (courtesy of Andy in Tokyo) of the horrors of the morning rush hour. The video looks a little old, and most rush hour journeys are not quite this cozy, but this kind of thing does go on, it has to be said. This one's for you, Dr Datsun Kildare. Once again, can I just re-iterate, there are definite advantages to working from home. Oh, excuse me I think I dropped my newspaper...

 

Remains of the day

Clearly, Father Christmas (or Santa as he is known in these parts) enjoyed the cookies and wine the girls left for him, and Rudolph ate the carrot. Here are the results of his night's labours, chez Sherriff,  in two acts:

Act I: The bicycle

Act II: The discovery

A belated ho, ho, ho

We've had a hectic Christmas, and while I still haven't got round to uploading a video of Emma jumping for joy at seeing her new bike (and Katherine marvelling at how Santa managed to get a bunk bed in her bedroom while she was asleep in mum and dad's - bloody hard work at 1.30am I can tell you), instead here is a little Christmas musical to keep you all entertained. I do love a good musical, as you know...

Dusk on the water

As I've said before, there are advantages to teaching from home. The best is that I can nip on (Nippon!!! Nippon!!!) my bike between lessons and make it round the lake and back in under an hour. Well, the other day I happened to have my camera handy and snapped the last embers of sunlight (at about 4:45pm or so). By the way, I used no photoshop trickery on these shots. The orange glow really was, well, getting orangier.

 

You must be satisfied with it!

I'm a 100-yen kind of person. The coin, worth about 50p (or probably about twice as much as that by the time you get to the end of this post, given the fall in the pound) is king of the 100-yen shop, like the pound-stretcher shops in the UK, only the stuff they carry is a lot better made (China is closer to here you know) -- and there is no social stigma to shopping in the places. Where would I be without the 100-yen-shop? Well, I wouldn't have the following:

1. A wallet with the following plastic label still on after a year: "We would like to hand our goods to you. You must be satisfied with it!" 
2. A metal meishi (business card) holder
3. White board markers for the classroom
4. Baskets for, er, putting other 100-yen-value things in
5. A wall clock (actually, it cost 300-yen, but who's quibbling)
6. A whisk for whipping cream for the Christmas trifle I promised to make this year
7. A cupboard full of glasses, bowls and mugs all from the local 100-yen emporium

The list goes on. And I never tire of asking assistants in the shop "How much is that?" and watching their pained attempt to explain to the dimwit foreigner that everything is 100 yen. "Really, and how much is that?"

As they say in America, I really must get out more often.

Tower Talk: Christmas trifle

Tower Talk: Christmas trifle

Even more festive fun

I've worked at a fair few newspapers in my time, and just about every one had a rule: no use of the word "festive" with "fun" until you get within firing range of Christmas. But hey, I found this video on Fatblueman. Have all the festive fun you can stand.

'Bigger than God'

What's it like to be pointed at and constantly made to feel different from others because of the way you dress or look? Is this the gaijin (foreigner) experience? I wouldn't know, I'm too busy to give it much thought, but this morning Santa very graciously allowed me to step into his shoes and red suit to entertain 75 kids across town at a "mansion" complex (in British English we would call this a block of flats). Getting on the bus was a doddle, only retirees got on with us (Yoshie was Mrs Claus) and seemed too pre-occupied with staring at the back of the seat in front of them to notice us at the back. We got a few more stares crossing over Abiko station from the south to the north exit. But once in the party, the screaming adoration of the kids and flickering of flash bulbs gave me delusions of grandeur: So this is how John Lennon felt!

For more pictures of St. Nick, click here.

Learning between the lines

You'd be surprised what you can learn as an English teacher. When teaching, especially one-to-one (or man-tsu-man as it is called in Japanese, even when your student is a woman) your role becomes less of a lecturer bestowing wisdom from on high, and more of a co-conspirator, a sort of cross-between a catholic priest and psychiatrist, there to offer advice (and correct verb endings) in exchange for a glimpse into another life. Here's just a sample of what I have learnt between the syntax:

• It is considered rude for women to wear strong perfume while at a sushi restaurant, as others will be unable to appreciate the taste of their food.
• Most kids want a Nintendo DS (cheap portable computer game with extortionately expensive software) for Christmas.
• While others dream of becoming doctors or lawyers, one bright boy said he wants to be a "freeter" when he grows up (a temp worker, not tied to one company for life).
• Japanese are apathetic or cynical about politics because "the bureaucrats run everything anyway".  

The great trek

The girls and I set off on a journey of discovery (to find the fabled northern passage avoiding the traffic) to the far off Abiko McDonald's. We lived to tell the tale. Here's what we encountered:

 

Mush, mush, we've got to get there before Emma collapses from starvation...

 

We could pick up some veg on the way (you have to drop a donation in the tin), but no way to cook them...

Creep past the OK Corral...

 

Past the futons airing in the sun...

Through the ginkgo leaves and back in one piece.

Dango etiquette

When eating a dango (an unobjectional ball of rice flour dumpling), you can seek help if you desire:

... make sure you chew well:

... give it a good tug:

... and enjoy!

Window shopping, Oba-chan no Harajuku style

Tower English raised its drawbridge last weekend (it's a rare thing to have two days off on the trot, hence the tardy return to blogging ways for Tower Tales) so the Tower troupe trooped off to Tokyo to visit  old friends. I took the opportunity to video us walking down the street, which, while not earth-shatteringly interesting, gives a slice of life one Sunday afternoon at the fag end of 2008 in an area known as the Oba-chan no Harajuku (fashionable area of Tokyo for grandmas). Compare with other meaningful shopping experiences here. 

Highlights...

• 0:14 Shoe shop (not much use for me as most shops carry shoes only up to 27cm in size - about size 9 in old money.)
  
• 0:30 Manju shop (flour balls with sweet beans inside)
• 0.52 bloke whose job is to greet customers
• 0.58 another greeter
• 1.15 fibre glass green-tea flavoured ice cream
• 1:28 fashion conscious oba-chans (grans)
• 1:43 bored kid playing a computer game while waiting for his mam.
• 2:27 either a Buddha or a sweets display, not sure which.

5...3...1...2... oh, forget it

I thought Japanese were good at maths. Years of being sent to abacus school as a child at the insistence of grandma, plus the high denominations of cash you need (can you believe around ¥270 for a can of Suntory Malts at our local 7-11) should have instilled a healthy command of the things. But I'm beginning to think folks here have a problem when the numbers are more, er, little. It's not rocket science counting backwards from 10, but the chap in charge of numbering the parking spaces near our 7-11 clearly shouldn't be given the job of counting down for blast off. Must have been at the Malts again. 

Dancing in the street

Sorry I missed the last couple of days, but I was busy having a few days off in the real world. Anyway, (ab)normal service has resumed... may I present an odd slice of street life it was a my, er, pleasure, to witness:

Now, I don't know about you, but when I see a white-bearded chap dancing barefoot maniacally down the middle of the road, I tend to think he's not all there (or he's recently escaped from KFC) and perhaps should be avoided for safety's sake. But not round here. This is art. Public art. Free public art.

All I would add is, you get what you pay for.