If the Tokyo transport system were a well-loved children’s poem, then it would most definitely be a little girl, with a little curl, right in the middle of its forehead. For when it is good it is very very good, but when it is bad it is horrid! This morning I was stuck at Shinjuku for almost an hour because of a fire on one of the tracks, at least that is what I garnered from the intercom and my fellow passengers. Thankfully I had set off to work in a particularly anal mood in regards to timekeeping (and with the recent shellacking given out to the cast, by the director in regards to general timekeeping still ringing in my ears), meaning that I still arrived with two hours to spare.
As soon as I arrived at the theatre I headed over to my usual seat, and was instantly accosted by the assistant director, who said something about inviting me to some event, somewhere, at some particular time. I was beginning to panic that I was in way over my head, and matters were certainly not helped when the director came over and also started throwing a load of random words at me. At first I thought that my brain was actually going to explode, but somehow I managed to muddle through and ascertain that they were inviting me to see some modern Japanese theatre, which dealt with issues of homosexuality and which I would probably find interesting. After stating that I would love to attend, I confirmed that I was free next Tuesday, and thanked them very much for their kind consideration. I am slightly apprehensive that I may have accidentally signed up for an active role in an upcoming gay pride demonstration, but at least I can be confident about the date and time.