UCL Lost Boys

On sunday night me and the missus went out to meet one of her friends, Yuka, and go for a Thai curry at some place that was on telly (surprise surprise) that is not too far from us.

All started well, we met up on time, took a short stroll to the restaurant (I think it was called Pikanoo, but it could quite easily have been Pikachu), waited to sit, then browsed the menu.

 Now, for a restaurant that had been on telly, you’d think that I would be greeted by something imagintive, full of variety, something to really get me thinking. But boy was I in for a surprise. Perhaps I should have called it a day there to save me heartbreak (arsebreak?) later. The menu contained a grand total of 7 dishes, and 1 (I’m going to type that in letters – ONE) starter, a salad. No plus marks for imagination there fellas.

For main, there was the obligatory Green and Red curry that you will find in EVERY Thai restaurant outside of Thailand. This was accompanied by a further two dishes I didn’t even both thinking of because apparently it took time to prepare them, a “country” (veg – don’t think that by calling it something else you can mystify a fucking veg curry, love) curry, an imaginitive chicken curry (that didn’t contain much else), and the “Hot” curry. I wonder what was in that one. Acid, maybe, or possibly highway grade asphalt? As a general rule, I like spicy food, so I plumbed for the Chicken, which had a 4 out of 5 spicy rating. The green and red had 1 and 2 respectively, so I thought I was in for some punishment.

Much to my surprise the thing didn’t cause permament or long term damage to my mouth or face. Given how hot a green curry can be in London restaurants, I was expecting the thing to melt my spoon, but it wasn’t so bad. I set to, and felt happy enough to order more rice (free refills!) and carried on filling my boots (for the unimagintive of you, that means I was enjoying eating, not that I was spooning chicken curry and rice into my footwear. Though, if the spices might have helped warm them up, because Tokyo is a frozen wasteland at the moment, I would have considered it). It was actually pretty tasty.

All good! No adverse effects, it tasted pretty good, and was reasonably priced too. That is one satisfied gibbo. That might have been what caught me off guard…

After the food, we thought we’d go elsewhere for a desert, which is when the trouble began.

 As we arrived in the restaurant I could feel a familiar yet slightly disutrbing rumbling. I needed a shit. This was disturbing not because I had to lay another cable, but because of the timing. About 40 minutes after finishing the curry……that did not bode well.

I order my cake (chocolate, of course) and forced nature to wait while i had a curry, er I mean coffee (I did actually subcounciously write curry there too) to calm my nerves, and then excused myself to summon the four horsemen of the apoclypse and take part in armageddon.

It wasn’t pretty,  something akin to big painful spicy hot red car crash. If I hadn’t been in the loo of a crowded restaurant I might have screamed. Loudly. I felt like I needed something to bite down on to ease the pain. And what was worse was the consistency……no dead otters for me, not today. No dropping the kids off at the pool…..oh no, this was the real deal. I felt like I was giving birth to liquid fire. And it didn’t just come and go either. This bastard took me FOUR COMPLETE GO’S to get it totally out. Four times where I had to push like a african elephant giving birth only to find that in place of dumbo the flying elephant was the Balrog from Lord of the Rings.

And it was a messy fella too. Not only did it leave my jacksie with a warm feeling for 10 bloody minutes, but there was the ever-so-faintest hint of splash back around my harris, which meant that I had to be “thorough” with the paper too.

That entire episode took 10 minutes. Now I know what a firework feels like. From eating the last spoon to doing up my trouser after finding out the true meaning of pain took under one hour. I think that could be classified as torture.

Why is it always the fucking toothpaste? Some of you closer to me will know what I mean by that……

On saturday I ventured into Chiba prefecture, to say Haro to Hiro Matsuoka, and have a bash at the keikokai he organises once a month. I particularly like this one because some of the people that go there are really really strong.

Now, I’d like to say that it was a real treck, and in the middle of nowehere, but that would be utter bollocks. I barely felt like I’d left Tokyo! The place where keiko was being held was Funabashi, which whilst technically in Chiba prefecture is physically not distinct from Tokyo, like Kawasaki, where I live. And it didn’t even take long to get there. I was on a train for a little over an hour. Thats less time than it used to take to get to squad training! And a better keiko too, if I may be so bold!

 Anyway, its still bloody cold here, but this place at least had the civility to close the windows (I don’t know if I mentioned this -probably have – but at Koubukan they practise with the windows OPEN. This is agonsing for me, as my feet lose all feeling and go blue a mere degree below standard room temperature. So they fall off when it approaches freezing, re-attachment involving Wadlow-esque perseverance and patience). Keiko here is generally pretty relaxed, 3 chunks of 35 minutes with a break in between, and just do whatever you want. Which was nice. Apart from the schoolkids lining up for a piece of me. Bloody high schoolers! And there was 8 of them! Someone else (I stopped counting…) told me he thought I did 16 jigeiko……I felt like I’d done 16 rounds with Lennox Lewis.

It had its definate upsides though. We also did some shiai geiko (we’re all – including me! – going to a shiai next month that these guys got to the quarter finals in last year. I’ll be chuken this time round……so something vaguely approaching responsibility again….good practise I guess. It was slightly alarming when the dude in charge, in total seriousness, said he thought I was the strongest so I go chuken…….oh dear. I hope he doesn’t disappoint too easily….) which was very good practise for me.

I don’t remember how much I’ve been through my mental state with you guys (I don’t read this fucking garbage once I’ve written, who do you think I am? You?) but I’m finally starting to understand a few things about my own state of mind, thought process and general mental approach to shiai that I’ve decided I want to change. The main point being that I treat shiai too differently, and as such lose everything I have in jigeiko. This shiai saw me stick very much to everything I do in jigeiko as much as possible, and I saw immediate gains, but not enough. For me personally, my jigeiko is still for some reason a lot stronger than my shiai, so I still need to work on it, but I’m also getting better at getting towards my favoured “kendo state of mind” as opposed to worrying too much about losing or getting hit, or people watching, or any other rubbish. It’s all about routine. In jigeiko, when I stand up, kiai-seme a little-watch the dude-test him a little-seme more-settle in, where as in shiai until recently it was stand up-kiai until my testicles burst-maul the guy like a caveman-grab a couple of cheeky ippon. Things are changing for the better and I’m very happy, but a little more of a thought process needs to be applied, and a little more tactical thought about the process of scoring ippon from the initial contact with the opponent to the point I hit them. All hugely interesting to me as it gives me MUCH to think about and ways to improve it. Doubtless totally fucking boring to the rest of you, but I don’t give a toss.

Besides the shiai geiko and the apparently endless line of high school kids, there was also two jigeiko of note. One witha  guy called Tamura. It was liek doing kendo with chinese gymnast. Every time I went for the neck he wasn’t there! Cheeky blighter. His foot work is fantastic and really light. He ran rings around me, which was a great lesson.

Then there was Shimoike. This guy is on the Chiba riot police, and was also in the 53rd All Japans. Which makes him T O T A L L Y  R O C K  H A R D. I think I managed to scrape his kote, once. I felt like a dead gazelle carcus (ie no more grace and elegance and just a showering mess of muscle, lungs and entrails. With a shinai) and I got mashed, big time. With Tamura, I went for him, and missed, but he wasn’t in a position to hit me. None of that with Shimoike, and I have a rabid, angry red throat to prove it! But it was easily the best jigeiko of the day, great for me (its not like I just stood there and let him hammer me!) all the more because its been a long time since I’ve truly been dominated like a Soho rent boy. All good.

Afterwards, in the taxi to the boozer (mmmm, karaage….)I took great joy in explaining to Hiro’s wife, Karen (Hiro wasn’t there) that everyone thought Hiro was a poof, and why (he has this habit of bending his wrist when he talks. A lot. Plus, he is VERY VERY touchy feely. Finally, where he would be quite open about most things, the topic of girls was something I NEVER heard him talk about in the 2+ years he was in London. So I leapt wildy towards the first semi-logical conclusion I could find. Hiro was a bummer.) His wife thought this whole thing was hilarious, and asked to greet Hiro with limp wrists and high pitched voices when he arrived. By which time we were all totally smashed, so he got the full “only gay in the village” chorus when he showed up in the izakaya later. Score.

Now, the toothpaste. Well done for showing the patience and getting here in the end. I’m not going to pretend its as outrageous as the other story involving toothpaste of mine (I’m not going to put the whole thing here, but lets just say it involves some rigorous sex, a dirty face towel, and a massive round poo stain the size of a dinner plate, and leave it at that). I had had a skinful at the boozer, and feeling very jolly promptly sleapt on the train all the way home. Lovely. An hour and 15 minute journey squeezed into blissful sleep filled oblivion. I love it when that happens.

I got home, drunkenly slung my kendo stuff all over the spare room (which got tidied up before the missus, who was on a night shift, got home the next morning), turned on the Wii, and continued to slay spanish zombies (take that Manuel!). I’m enjoying myself greatly and not sobering up in any noticeable way, so I was a little surprised to see the clock say 1.50am when I finally looked at it.

“Bugger” I thought. Then, “Wash my face, and then bed” because my wife hates the smell of drunk, and I reeked of it. So I amble in to the bathroom, turn on the taps, rinse myself over, and grab what I think is the face wash. But it’s not. Jesus Christ, that was THE most unpleasant wash I have ever had, and I don’t care if my hair was minty fresh or now flouride enriched. I had this really strange feeling that my head was freezing cold, but also ablaze with flame for at least 20 minutes. I did not enjoy that one little bit. And after 20 minutes and the feeling began to subise my head stank! Great.

At least I did smell of drunk though.

After the euphoria accompanied with beans and sausages on cheese-on-toast, and a pleasing little dash of snow, I was feeling quite up beat. One might even go so far as to use the word “chipper”, if I didn’t feel like a complete twat when writing it, so up beat will do.

That was until yesterday, and the journey to and from work.

*I am quickly becoming aware that this is turning into a “gibbo complains about public transport” blog, as opposed to kendo blog. But I don’t give a rats ass. In fact, bite me. On the other hand, I’m going to Chiba prefecture tomorrow to get the crap knocked out of me by some rozzers. I’ll write a little about that if I remember! And I’ll be meeting Hiromichi “Rearry?” Matsuoka too.

The morning commute started off relatively comparible with every other standard morning, in that the train was packed to bursting and getting on it required skill and athleticism akin to a Krypton Factor winner. But I got on. (note – I had to stop writing here for 2 minutes because I tried to serruptitiosly let out a tiny little fart that ended up sounding like King Kong’s battle cry, right in the middle of the office. I think a few people may have heard and I chuckled to myself a bit too much too. And it stinks)

Until 3 stops down the line, this train is usually rammed pretty bad, but sure enough, three stops later at Futakotamagawa, it emptied a little bit and I got some space. Which is when I noticed him.

I was in the first carriage, and the front and end carriage usually has a window in to the drivers compartment. God knows why.

At Futakotamgawa the driver pulled the blind down, and I saw why. There was a slightly odd dude pressing himself up against the window and the central support strut. His breath was hideous, he had a little white mask on (like most of the population does when even one person catches a cold), and under that, he had another. From my angle, I could see behind the mask, and whilst he had his eyes clamped shut, I’m 100% positive he was smiling too himself………and I couldn’t see his hands……..and his was bobbing up and down……..draw your own conclusions.

Mine were drawn when all of he sudden he stopped bobbing up and down and let out a huge sigh along the lines of “UUUUUuuuuunnnnnngggghhhhhhhhh”. I think he must have been on the vinegar strokes by the time I got on the train at my stop. I wonder where he put it?

Needless to say this guy had a perimeter similar to my own. Like a gaijin perimiter but for a little wanking japanese man. A WANK-FIELD!

I wasn’t the only one that noticed this either. Not too far from Shibuya, where this guy got off, another unfortunate boarded and got squashed against him, and by this time he had resumed his bobbing up and down act. Up against the dude who had just got on. The japanese powers of in-built ignore-the-strange-fellow are amazing some times.

Oh, and the train was 15 minutes late AGAIN. This time because someone’s bag got stuck in a door further forward on another train. Yup, you read that right. A tit let their bag get stuck, therefore I am 15 minutes late. Maybe astro physics can explain that, some long complex line of sums and equations:

Tit+(door+closing)/E=mc2*(commuter+stupid)-sensible*japan=15 minutes.

I’m a victim of shit-maths.

But then, oh then, came the journey home. This made this morning’s mess look like a ride on the funbus.

Yet another selfish bastard decided to top themselves on the line that I use. Since I started working in this place that makes the running total 4. Now think how many people kill themselves in London by leaping in front of the Circle Line*. I’ll bet its 4 less than my 2 month running total!

*Killing yourself in front of the circle line, may, however, be physically impossible. When it acutally is moving, the thing is slow bloody slow that the most you would get is a freindly nudge from it. Hardly 15 tonnes of suicide assisting force.

This dude, 1 station away from where I live, jumped in front of a train at 5.26pm (they were surprisingly specific about that!). This therefore meant that just as rush hour was due to start, the busiest stupidest line in and out of Tokyo STOPS. I went one stop in an hour and a half, and ended up stood on a platform at Shibuya for over an hour waiting for a train to turn up. Which it did. At 7 fucking 30. I was livid when I got home, and still severly agitated even when I got in to bed! To the point it took me 30 minutes of rolling, tutting, adjusting my garbage, and more rolling to finally get comfortable.

It even made the news this morning. The NATIONAL news. Apparently the delay was a combination of “Human Incident” (I love this description) and the freezing temperatures (it was very very cold last night!), which has lead me to make my own theory:

1) Dude decides to top himself and assesses various methods:

- Blow brains out; Might miss? Where do I buy a gun?

- Jump of a bridge; Most bridges big enough wouldn’t be in Tokyo or available to the public

- Leap in front of an express train; only costs 130yen, easy!

2) Decides on the train method and heads to Takatsu train station

3) Leaps in front of train; job done! Dude’s role in this play now ends. Exit stage mess.

4) Its an express, so its travelling at quite a rate of knots, dude gets splashed all over the rails

5) Very low temperatures means dudes various bits freeze to the tracks

6) Blow torches and scrapers are handed out to the clean up crew. Lots of vommting ensues, which also freezes to the tracks, only prolonging the work.

7) 7.15ish first train finally allowed to run, after frozen blood, vom and assorted limbs are removed from the track.

I can’t think of anything else that would take so long! Unless the dude got really mangled under the train? Surely then a big sharp pokey stick could have got him out?

This may all seem hugely insensitive, but this is the 4th time (and also by far and away the worst) that I’ve been caught up in this. There are all manor of ways to top yourself (one favoured way – apart from chucking themselves in front of the train I’m trying to catch – appears to be charcoal burners in closed cars. This is the suicide-pact favourite!) but for some reason people chuck themselves in front of trains!!!! I no longer have sympathy for anyones problems if the net result is me, cold angry and knackered, standing up for an hour then getting sardined into a the first jam packed train that finally comes. I spoke to someone else in the office who lives on the same line. He left before me, got the same re-start train, and because it then stopped only halfway home for him, not far past where I got off, he got home at 10pm. Thats a 4 hour journey because some clown hated the world. Sympathy? Yeah right.

Am I bad person?

You may recall (and if you don’t go to Jail, do not pass go and do not even pick up 200 yen, never mind pounds) that when I first got to Japan, I was moaning about the sweltering heat that saw me covered in a lovely film of sweat three steps after leaving my front door. Well, now the opposite is true. No, that doesn’t mean I am no longer moaning (and lose my god gievn right to be British?! Heaven forbid!) No sirree! What it means now is I am moaning about the cold instead!

 Tokyo was a balmy 5 degrees yesterday…which meant snow! Weeeeeeee! Normally I love snow, but I have a 20 minute walk to the train station, and then a 15 minute walk to the office. I wrapped up warm, but might as well have not bothered as the train driver had turned the heating onto “Tropical”, so when I got off the thing I was actually sweating like fat bastard running the 100 metres. Lovely. And my train, unsurprisingly, was 20 minutes late.

Mmmm. Beans on toast! And check out the sausages in there two! This, my friends, is a quick little meal fit for a king! Immediately after this photo was so obviously professionally taken, I smothered this bad boy with some ultra healthy tobasco sauce! I loved it! I snarfed this bad boy down so dam fast that I even felt a little sick when I took it!

This little wonder came about as a result of my wife going to Korea for three days with some other nurses. There she is, running around Seoul buying little bags filled with rotting festering (or pickled – I can never be quite sure) cabbage, and here I am living off the fat of the earth. This banquet was accompanied by a mammoth session on the Wii, which totalled 9 hours over the course of the day. Gunning down Spanish plague victims is fun!

This might be pretty short actually, but its worth commiting in to the written word!

 Everyone has teachers they like and teachers they don’t. Some of these guys really tune you in, and you feel invigorated and enthusiastic after keiko with them. Others leave you wondering what (if anything…) has really just happened, if you got anything from it at all, and why you bothered queing 10 minutes for a total waste of time. Don’t pretend you’ve never felt that way, you know what I’m talking about….

I’ve not quite been able to put my finger on it until recently, but it was only actually through watching the guys I don’t enjoy keiko with that I figured out why. They don’t fight you, they don’t even engage you. Sure they’ll have a pagger and really go for it when the guy in front of them is over 50 and 7th dan, but with me they are content to stand there and do kaeshi dou all day, and barely actaully do anything even vaguely resembling tobokomi waza. And why don’t I like this……because it bores me to tears. Thats right, I get bored fighting some 7th dans. You would think I should feel challenged, but all I actually feel is:

 ”When I move, I’m either going to slam you because you can’t be bothered moving, or you are going to do kaeshi dou because you’re expecting men”

Why are they expecting men? Because they shake their head when I do anything else, and when I fake a men and slam their kote, well thats not good enough either. Because they can’t do kaeshi dou with that…

 Without wanting to sound like a moan, I do actually wonder why these guys come to kendo? Not a what the hell are they doing wondering, more of a what motivates them to come all this way on a freezing cold night and do what essentially looks externally like the most boring activity they feel they could be doing right now. And I really do think about this, and wonder if in years to come that will be me, waiting for my 2 minutes once per keiko with the one guy I’m interested in keiko with before having people line up for me to be bored with. I doubt it though, I enjoy myself too much for that.

On the other hand, I do also have keiko with some fantastic 7th dan guys, and the key to fun keiko, as these guys have shwon me, is trying to batter the bejesus out of me. Sure its good practise to try and hit the 8dan’s men when you know he is more than capable of doing kaeshi dou to everything you do, but I think it is infinately preferable to do it when the guy in front of you is actively hunting for ippon. Given that these guys are all 3 grades higher than me when they actually do come snuffling for my ippon truffles I’ve got to be alert and ready, and also doing the same thing myself, otherwise they pound the crap out of me without me actually moving, or even sometime registering that they are coming for me! This kind of thing is great for my kendo, and I seem to find myself practising with these guys more and more. Sometimes they do fall a little too far into that old japanese cultural thing of being overly complimentary. One guy said “you are all japan level!” last night, and another guy at the weekend shouted across a street crossing “you really beat me today. I lost” (this guy in particular is rock hard). While I don’t particularly believe either of these (I’m not all japan level, and I would question heavily if I actually did beat the other guy) the fact that they feel they can freely blow that much sunshine up my arse is nice, and quite motivating to say the least!

 Far more enjoyable than the 10th men-kaeshi-dou because you’re “not allowed to do anything else with sensei”.

So, in March, in the freezing cold city of Helsinki, in the freezing cold country of Finland, is the freezing cold European Championships, and I’ll be there. With this in mind, I’ve had a chat with the two teachers I respect the most for a little advice on some kendo loving.

Before christmas I was having something of a kendo slump. If you compared it to a human slump, it wasn’t like slouching on the sofa, bored on a sunday afternoon waiting for the repeats of Lovejoy to come on (gotta love a bit of Ian McShane! As a side note, does anyone reading this think Anthony Wadlow – see his top trump – could double for a young blonde Lovejoy…just a thought), its more a lying in a 6 foot by 2 foot wooden box with plush velvet interior and permanent lid with my arms crossed over my chest kind of slump, and I felt like I was going nowhere fast. The basics of the problem were that I had lost my range of techniques, not in a way that I was technically unable to do them, but that I couldn’t see the chance. I had gone back a long way and ended up only being able to do men (ooer!) and nothing else, and that was a problem. Some might say “aha! But menuchi is a fundamental, surely its not all bad!”. If you said that, fuck off and read another blog. Being only able to see and do and go for men means I become predictable, and the duder in front of me is concentrating on one thing, picking me off when I go for his head. No good. About as useful as Anthony Wadlow (you read that right, Wadlow!)

But then, ahh then, came that wonder of beauties, the New Year break. I have become a firm believer after this year in the maxim “Christmas heals all”, because it did. Christmas was my first pay day, I got my ninetendo toys, and importantly, I had a weeks guilt free rest from kendo. Which totally changed everything. I had time again to simply sit down and watch videos, relate what I saw to my own kendo and what I wanted, and to actually think about my kendo. And by the good lord its worked! I am a new me! I’ve been rebuilt (by the Knight Foundation who reformed Michael Kinght’s face and gave him Kitt to ride around in – on another side note why did Kitt sound annoying? They could have voiced him with someone like James Earl Jones, which would have been cool beyond belief, but made he a weeney instead) and things are falling in to place again.

 At my first few keiko of the year I mentioned to the Big O and the other dude (from Shinjuku) that I’ll be going to Helsinki, and they both gave very clear and concise advice on what exactly needed changing, why they thought it needed it, and what it would do. Surprisingly (or maybe not?) whilst different, the advice was generally the same: Use your feet more, better seme. So, I now have a little direction (ie things I want to fix or improve) and a goal (the Euros), so I thought I’d give you some kendo details for a change instead of whinging about the trains (which are still as painfully shit as ever by the way, but I think everyone apart from me is well past giving a fuck about that anymore). Plus I can do other techniques again. Bring me that kaeshi gyaku dou, I’m not done with that bad boy just yet.

I are mostly working on seme, seme and more seme, with footwork as a healthy aside, just like I was told to, but I do have a couple of minor asides that I’m dealing with too. The footwork first I suppose. I’m pretty happy with my footwork in general, but its too big. This may stem from the fact I am a behemoth in Japanese terms (my size is a frequent locker room favourite, and we’re not talking about my schlong either – but if we do for a moment I would compare it to Godzilla rampaging through Tokyo) but it needs sorting out. A couple of people have suggested much much smaller steps as I go in to my distance, which

A) means I don’t give them a big message that I’m coming with a massive step in

and

2) also means that if I fuck something up the chances are that as my distance is generally longer than that of the wee-man I’m fightin’ I won’t be in so much immediate danger.

So far so good! That all makes sense! Its also bringing the dividends it did the last time I really concentrated on my feet, which is mostly more reaction from my opponent.

Next is seme. The big O, knowing I’m going to Helsinki wants to improve the best bits of my kendo (he once said of the bad bits “ignore them, by making the good bits better the rubbish will sort itself out of its own accord”. And he was right, by jove!) which means my men, again! And this also is working out nicely, because whilst my menuchi is getting along nicely (I must admit I got an absolute peach, no wait, scratch peach, lets call it a stonker, because there aren’t enough erection euphemisms on the internet. ) my other techniques do actually appear to be being dragged up too.

All this is leaving me quite flush with confidence, though I am still figuring out other things. Like for instance I have this odd habit of sometimes holding my breath in shiai, I did last weekend in shiaigeiko with Itouchuu, and that makes me tired quickly, so I’m taking more notice of my breathing at the moment too, and trying to regulate it a little more effectively. Also, I’ve finally figured out why in the past I had a tendency to sometimes lose a silly ippon early on then have to fight my way back. I take a few seconds to settle in to my “concentration-rhythm” which means the first 10 seconds or so, someitmes (not all the time, not by a long measure) I don’t take the time to watch my opponent, and test and prod their kamae, their resolve and their defences, and simply barrell in with the Andre the Giant men. Giving them ample opportunity to drop me like the plum I am. So that has stopped too.

This point about concentration was actually the most valuable thing I’ve picked up in a little while, and the act of taking the time to settle down and watch test and prod does wonders for calming me down of my nerves very quickly. An invaluable lesson learned!

So there we are. The bits and bobs that make up my kendo, and what I’m trying to do with them. Note how now there is a lack of “my men isn’t working” or “I can’t do kaeshi dou” and that sort of thing. I’ve finally figured out that I can do these things, but its the more non-shinai stuuf (if that makes sense) like my breathing, my concentration, my seme and my footwork, the things that make my kendo mine, that are important. I’m actually finally starting to learn and understand a little more about why kendo is less to do with hitting people and the shinai, and more about what you yourself can do. Get me.

On my way through the card-key locked door I spilt coffee on my hands, trousers, pass card and also the floor. In front of 3 customers waiting for their contact.

Smoothe, Gibbo, smoothe like the Hoff….

I wish that were a clever pun for the amount of “lovin’ ” I was going to get this year but its not.

Now, what with New Year having come and gone, most bloggers would give you some kind of contrived witty summation of their year, there hopes aspirations and how many times they’ve beaten off in the shower. You know, some of those fools write about stuff like that. And no, I’m not going to tell you. I could probably rustle up something witty, and it would be more contrived than a party political broadcast, but I’m not sure I can be bothered. You can have some gash piece of wank that I put less than 5 minutes work in to though. How about that for a slice of fried gold.

I’m not sure if I can be arsed going over the ridiculousness of my life over the past year, buts its had its fair share of ups and downs, starting obviously with moving here, where apart from kendo things went through the floor. Jobless, broke and bored shitless. I think I could have used that as a title for my CV if I didn’t think it would have only made things harder! And now look at me! Working my warm little socks off (a side note: always wear warm socks in winter. Cold toes are my big pet hate, which inevitably means kendo in winter enters nowhere near my top 5 things to do barefoot list. I might even rate walking across hot coals having just doused my feet in petrol and brandy – for the aroma – above that.) in the office, getting in plenty of practise, got some fantastic new toys (hello Wii Fit board!) and things are finally looking up! Oh, and I had an MRI scan and a blood test for migraines. Both tests fine and the migraines stopped too. Wierd…..maybe I just needed to have my head subject to harsh magnetic forces.

 So, what of the coming year? Who gives a fuck!! I’ve got a Wii! I predict work and kendo, and working to buy kendo stuff. There you go.

On the subject of work, I meet a lot of very strange people. I’ve seen people interview clad only in denim (it was like having the Hoff in my office!), I’ve seen people travel halfway across Japan for interviews they know nothing about, people who could have asked Michael Jackson’s dead monkey, Bubbles, to write a better CV, I’ve even been hit on by people I was in contact with. And that scared me. It’s certainly “interesting”.

 Kendo, well, is still kendo. Nothing much changes there, but I did meet Hiro (check out his Top Trump if you don’t know who he is) and kicked seven bells out of him “Your kendo has got so much better” heh. In february I’m entering a competition with his dojo too, which will (I reckon) be the last thing I enter before the European Champs… I’ve a feeling I’m going to be the awe-inspring foreigner who can “do kendo”, or the easy draw that the team plum gets lumped with, followed by “chin up, you’ve got the gaijin”. Hmmmm.

 Oh, and because Nick never writes anything on here I feel obliged to inform the world that the last time I met Nick he regaled us with the tale of how the week prior he got in to a drunken brawl with one of his housemates and BROKE HIS FUCKING LEG. Nick was unscarthed, and almost smiling about it. Treen, Lord of Destruction, gets an upgrade. Maybe we should call him, TREEN, god of war.

 Oh oh oh! One important point of note: I have a DVD player that will play my films again! Score! Hot Fuzz, Shaun of the Dead, and much Clint Eastwood. Now I am one pleased bunny. I had a week off over New Year (japan is good like that) and I have another long weekend (more public holidays!) starting tomorrow. I’m going to look in to my crystal ball (after wiping the dodgy looking milk off it that got stuck there from some “late night clairvoyancy”) and I can see, more movies being viewed, some Resident Evil being dominated, and some beer being spilt on the floor and slipped in. All good.

Nick would say hello if the lazy fecker even remembered this web page had his name on it.