like a wizened bit of naan indeed! the topography of you face is quite extraordinary!

sorry for the delay in blogging. there always seems to be something going on that keeps me busy. so, a lot of stuff has happened but not much has changed. im still in asakusa after a brief frolic in Yokohama for a couple of weeks. its my favorite area by far, so i thought i might as well stick around. the weather is improving, most days are sunny and pleasant. whenever anyone talks about the weather here the conversation always drifts to the topic of the fabled “Japanese summer”, which i have been reliably informed is so hot that people regularly crawl into furnaces to cool down, and the humidity is in such high volumes that people have been known to drown while out on light strolls. when i explain that i have yet to experience this and that it will probably be fine, there is much consternation. they suck in their breath and regard me with both horror and pity. bring it on i say! i could do with a bit of sunshine. speaking of the unpleasantness of nature, there is some suggestion that japan is bracing itself for the big one. by that i mean a rather nasty earthquake. the other day i was idly trying to watch the latest episode of house at the hostel around 11ish when a rather sprightly earthquake weighing in at about 6.8 on the scale of hellishness proceeded to ripple through Tokyo. the other guests and i just stared at each other as the whole room began to buck to and fro with wild abandon. after it subsided some minutes later i noticed some laughter coming from outside. investigating i found Bailey, an Australian friend, had legged it out of his room and into the street so fast that he had neglected to put on any cloths. he was currently sporting a tiny tea towel. amidst gafaws it suddenly occurred to me that earthquakes are in fact potentially dangerous and i had no idea what i was supposed to do in the event of a nasty one. a few days later china is hit. mildly concerning.

my suit situation is has come to a grating resolution. its smells and i try and stop it smelling. hanging it up outside seems to be the best way. the smell disappears, but only to return a day later. i honestly don’t understand it.

today was rather interesting. a few days ago i went to a Thai festival in harajuku with some guys from the hostel. it was fantastic. many pleasent memories returned with the smells of Thai food wafting from the many stalls. after scrumming down a bowl of curry we relaxed at a table drinking Chang beer and watching the fairly dreadful band up on the main stage. some chap aproaches us rather diffidently. he tries to talk to me and a American guy called Kyle. he quickly gives up as his English is not the best and talks to our Japanese companion asuka. he wants us to model for him, she says. really?, we say, somewhat sceptical. the chap brandishes a small case, i assume cigarettes and start shaking my head, but it flips open and inside are business cards. rollingstone, he says. we must have looked confused. rollingstone japan! this seemed unlikely and a bit dodgy to me. i peer at the card, it did indeed sport something that looked like the rolling stone logo as far as i recalled it. how much? we asked. 10000 yen (50 quid) asuka translated. Sign us up! after we made sure it was not some wierd naked photo shoot he took our photos and bade us fairwell sayinghe would call monday. he called tuesday after we had begun to be convinced it was a load of rubbish. next sunday at 12. me and Kyle. at a station 20 mins away. all to the good. so today we went. it was good to go with some one just in case it was in fact a scam and things turned a bit dicey. we arrived at the station and promptly got lost looking for the building. eventually the guy came and found us. he took us to the studio. if you can imagine all of the cliched images ever of an artsy photo studio then you will have pictured something similar to this place. absolutely fantastic. the size of a small aircraft hanger, it was all industrial concrete with stylish chairs a chandelier or two and a young palm tree bristled from a plant pot. in the corner stood a babyfoot machine and the veranda looked out onto the river. i loved it and wished i lived there. as it turns out it is all going to be torn down soon. shame. the place contained about five startlingly fashionable types sauntering about and smoking on the veranda. there was also another western guy there, who apparently had done this sort of thing before. after greetings and wotnot and general faffing around a tall thin chap of somewhat feminine aspect beckoned me into a side room with a chair and a whole bunch of vanity mirrors. i was to have my hair done. this chap was clearly a master and a perfectionist. he toiled over me with hot crimping irons to achieve the perfect curl and wave to my hair. a good 45 minutes later i emerge, looking more like Aslan then anything else. my companions tried to hide their amusement. i am presented with a clingy teeshirt. i then walk about in front of the camera in a brooding manner. then i stand still in front of the camera and look like i am contemplating infinity. this done we take a break and its Kyle’s turn. he has to wear a teeshirt several sizes too small and a pair of simply appalling multicoloured shorts made from towels. this is insanely funny and its tricky to keep ones professional composure. as he has a close shaved head he is also given a beanie to wear. he looks exactly like a complete hippy-lite cretin. just like, i look like an angst ridden rock idiot. he has a shoot in which he has to look masculine. no smiling, says the photographers assistant as he envariably cracks up. i go again, this time wearing a teeshirt with some random numbers on it and some large sunglasses. now i have to look like an amazingly cool rocker who is also chilled and laidback. my stylist scampers over to rearrange my hair. i have no idea what i am doing. it seems ok though and its Kyle again. this time they are dissatisfied with his look. they try many pairs of glass. all hilarious. the stylist takes him into the sideroom. he has no hair to speak of, what could they be doing in there?, i remark to the other guy. Kyle reappears and something is different but i cant tell what. there is a look of confusion on his face. he points at the bridge of his nose. they gave me a uni-brow, he says horror in his voice. no way! i say. i see it, rather neatly done line of hair bridging his eyebrows. a bubble of gurgling laughter forms in my stomach and almost bursts free. i have to stare at the wall and think of other things for a while. things continue in a similar vain. i do another shoot and so does the other guy then someone comes in with a horde of sushi and we have lunch. delicious. we then get a crisp 10000 yen and head off. not bad for 2 hours of hanging around in front of a camera. i would have done it for free just for the interesting experience. dunno if our stuff will make it into the actual magazine. ill keep an eye out.
right im off. shall blog again at some point.

Wrinkles

At the Test, a commentator mentioned that Mick Jagger was in the crowd, looking “like a naan bread that’s been left in the sun for three days”.

This reminded me of an anecdote I’d heard. While attending a party one evening, the jazz singer George Melly was introduced to Rolling Stones frontman Mick Jagger. “I didn’t expect you to have so many wrinkles,” Melly remarked. “They’re not wrinkles,” Jagger declared. “They’re laughter lines.” “Really,” Melly replied. “Surely nothing could be that funny.”

Oh dear!

On the bright side, you won’t have to drive in the heat of the day when everyone else in France is on the road because it’s a holiday.

I’m racking my brains to find a way around the drill not being quite long enough. If you can’t risk making the holes in the sheet when it is away from Bertha, maybe the only solution is to buy or borrow a longer drill bit. I’ll look out for one.

BERTHA

WE HAD PLANNED TO GO CAMPING IN BERTHA LAST WEEKEND, BUT WHEN GEOFF TRIED TO GET THE POWER DRILL FROM WORK, THEY HAD ALL BEEN BOOKED OUT. AS WE NEEDED THIS TO DRILL THROUGH THE METEL PLATE TO PUT UNDER RIO’S SEAT IN THE VAN, WE HAD TO POSPONE THE TRIP TO THIS WEEKEND. NOT MEANT TO BE AS NICE BUT STILL A 4 DAY WEEKEND.

GEOFF GOT THE DRILL FROM WORK BUT EVERY EVENING IT WAS TOO DARK BY THE TIME WE HAD GOT RIO AND ORLANDO IN BED TO SCRABBLE ROUND UNDER THE VAN. WE COULD HAVE TRIED WITH A TORCH BUT DIDN’T MUCH FANCY THAT. NO PROBLEM WE THOUGH, WE’LL JUST DO IT ON THE WED NIGHT AND LEAVE FIRSTH THING THUR….

GEOFF TRIED TO DRILL THROUGH THE PLATE SO THAT WE HAD ONE HOLE READY FOR THE MORROW – HORROR. THE BLASTED THING DIDN’T DO THROUGH AT ALL. POSSIBLY DRILL BIT IS BLUNT OR DRILL NOT CHARGED WE THOUGH. NEW PLAN, GET ANOTHER DRILL BIT IN THE MORNING, TEST IT AND WHEN IT WORKS FINE TAKE OUT SEAT ECT…

AFTER A RAFRESHING NIGHTS SLEEP WE HAD COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT IT MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN THE CORRECT DRILL BIT (BACKED UP BY DOD E-MAIL!) GEOFFS LATERAL THINKING NOT BEING WHAT IT COULD BE, HE HAD BEEN TRYING TO DRIKL THROUGH IT WITH A WOOD DRILL! METEL DRILL BIT SHOT THROUGH THE FIRST HOLE NO PROBLEM.

ALL SYSTEMS GO! WE PACKED SOME THINGS INTO THE VAN, I WASHED UP AND DID LAST MINUTE STUFF WHILE GEOFF LOOSENED ALL THE BOLTS. GOT ORLANDO TO SLEEP, RIO WONDERING ROUND IN THE VAN. BY THIS TIME BOTH OF US ARE READY TO GO AND CHEERFULLY EXPECTING TO BE OFF IN THE NEXT HOUR OR SO. ME IN THE VAN AND GEOFF UNDER IT, WE GET THE SEAT OFF NO PROBLEMS – RIO HELPING HAPILY THE WHILE. GEOFF SLIDES UNDER WITH THE PLATE TO HOLD IT UNDER THE VAN, AND I GET READY WITH THE DRILL. GIVE IT AN EXPERIMENTAL GO. LOUD PROTESTS FROM RIO ABOUT THE ‘DAMASHINE’ SO WE TRY THE TV AS A DITRACTION WHILE WE DRILL THE HOLES. LEGG IT BACK INTO THE VAN AND POCK THE DRILL THROUGH….. IT DOESN’T GO THROUGH FAR ENOUGH TO GO THROUGH THE PLATE. SLIGHT DENT IN BONHOMIE BY NOW BUT NO PROBLEM WE THINK, JUST MARK THE HOLES OUT AND DILL THEM OUTSIDE. A BELLOW FROM THE HOUSE INDICATES ORLANDO HAS WOKEN. LEG IT IN AND PROP HIM UP INFRONT OF BEAUTY AND THE BEAST (RIO HAS LOST INTEREST BUT IS PLAYING WITH HIS TRAINS SO ALL’S GOOD).

WE MARK OUT THE HOLES BY DRILLING A SMALL MARK WITH THE TIP OF THE DRILL BIT WHICH POKES THROUGH. RATHER OVERENTHUSIASTICALLY GEOFF DRILLS TWO HOLES. NATURALLY THESE DON’T CORRESPOND WITH THE HOLES UNDER THE VAN. BONHOMIE NOW COMPLETELY GONE…

DECIDE TO BOLT ONE HOLE IN – THE BOLT WON’T EVEN GO THROUGH THE METEL PLAT. OBVIOUSLY DRILL AT A VERY SLIGHT DIFFERENT ANGLE. BELLOW FROM THE HOUSE FROM ABANDONNED CHILDREN. CURSING FREELY NOW, ME QUESTIONING THE POINT OF GOING ECT. CHEER CHILDREN UP. SIT BOTH IN VAN WHILE WE PUT THE SEAT BACK ON. DECIDE TO GO ANYWAY WITHOUT PLATE – RIO ISN’T THAT HEAVY. EVERYTHING IS IN THE VAN NOW. SHUTTERS CLOSED. LOCKED UP. ORLANDO IN VAN ASLEEP. RIO SNUGGLED INTO HIS SEAT WITH HIS BOTT. GEOFF IN. ME BEHIND TO DIRECT. NOTHING HAPPENS….

I WALK ROUND THE VAN TO FIND GEOFF LOOKING NOT A LITTLE DEFLATED. BERTHA’S BATTERY IS COMPLETELY FLAT. ALL ENTHUSIASME WHICH HAS BEEN RECULTIVATED AFTER THE SEAT SET BACK NOW COMPLETELY VANISHES. RIO INSIDE ASLEEP. ME SULKING IN THE HAMMOCK. GEOFF TRYING TO WORK OUT HOW LONG HIS NEW BATTERY CHARGER WIL TAKE TO CHARGE BERTHAS MAMMOTH BATTERY.

ALL IN ALL, NOT THE WAY I WAS HOPING TO SPEND THE FIRST DAY OF THE WEEKEND.
MAYHAPS A GLUG WILL HELP….

Lip balm

Is there no end to the properties of this humble product?

“When I feel the first tingle of a cold sore I put peroxide on it and I don’t remember the last time I actually has a cold sore that fully developed.”

Hydrogen peroxide

Having laid on a coat of sealer, followed by two coats of paint, followed by another coat of sealer, thicker this time, and another two coats of paint, and then yet another coat of paint, which has left a slightly less violently yellow stain than before, I came across this gem, online:

“Fill a spray bottle with diluted peroxide (2 to 1 with water). Spray the stained area. Allow the area to dry. You may have to do this twice to remove the stain entirely.”

So, curing all known lurgies isn’t the only thing that magical liquid can do.

I met your neighbours as I was leaving this morning. They asked if I was your new tenant. I explained who I was, and Anne nodded, looking pained, saying she thought she remembered me. Probably, she had had a fleeting mental glimpse of me hammering the final nails into the treehouse this time last year!