Today’s schooling brought yet more unbridled joy, as we were treated to a story about a child who took on a part-time job to buy bananas for his hospitalised younger brother. As expected, the story ended with the death of the brother, and the older child proclaiming his newfound hatred of bananas. Just for once I would like to read a story that didn’t end in death and misery; I mean why can’t we have an explanatory paragraph about little Tommy’s trip to the zoo. On second thoughts scrap that, as little Tommy would only end up being eating by the lions, or scarred for life by something that he saw in the rhino enclosure.
The backstreets of Suburban Tokyo are a geographical minefield. If I walk in a haphazard fashion for literally two minutes in any direction from my house, I end up totally lost. Taking into account the fact that all the houses look the same, that there are no real street names, and that the buildings are often numbered based on the chronographic construction dates, it isn’t hard to see why. Given I’ve never had the greatest sense of direction, not since the time when I got lost during a search for a sweetshop and somehow ended up by a sewage works, but even Ray Mears would have difficulty finding his way around here. And as far as asking for directions go, well let’s just say that I never leave home without my iPhone and it’s GPS.