Who Runs The World? Girls Do!

I must confess that I have a hardened dislike of football. I remember as a small child, Sundays spent at the grandparents. Dearly beloved Grandpa super glued to the TV from dusk til dawn. He used to ask my Grandma if there was anything she wanted to discuss before football season started. The morning gently kicked off with various sports commentators and analysts discussing who would be the day`s champions. Afternoon and the front living room would be filled with animated souls, eyes only to be torn from the game playing out on the TV to ensure that a dram of nourishing liquid refreshment hit parched lips. The evening only brought yet more torment to my tiny, maturing soul as replay after replay was shown and detailed breakdowns of each player`s abilities were discussed to the death. Even the wallpaper started trying to peel itself off at one point, to try and escape the droning monotony that is known in my life as `football`.   In fact, looking in the window from the garden, seeing a group of men, jumping up and down and suddenly bursting into some weird song, fists punching the air to some silent rhythm, I often thought, "What a bunch of idiots men are!"

And there was no escape well into my teens. I worked part-time in a bar and was subjected to the whole `footy carousal` of a Sunday. Every gorgeous guy I met was a football fanatic. It was one morning, freezing my whatnot's off on the side of a football field, nursing a slight hangover at 9am on a Sunday, watching a group of grown men emotionally hugging each other that I thought- no more. I was a square peg trying to squash myself into round hole. One made of leather. Yeah, my boyfriend was drop dead gorgeous and a great kisser but was there a future with the whole `footy fing`?  Could I really do that to all those little ova, waiting excitedly inside of me. I ditched `drop dead gorgeous` at the bar later during the tenth encore of `You`ll Never Walk Alone`. From that moment on, the first question I always asked a guy upon meeting was "Do you like football?"

I appreciate each to his own and that`s where I`ll stay. Thank you very much. I am a sporty person. I love sports. Just not football.......until this week that is.

Now, I am not saying I am a born again footballer. Nothing like  that at all. To be a `born again` you need to have at least visited that place before. I never even wiped my feet on the doormat. Well, I surprised myself last week because I actually felt happiness that Japan`s Women`s football team came out the winners. Normally it wouldn`t have even warranted a blip on my radar but it did. I even braved ten minutes of footage, with both eyes open and no alcoholic beverages as an inducement........... which must surely be a record in my lifetime. ( I can hear gasps of disbelief from the UK way.)

The Japanese nation have been through so much this year. Especially people on the north-east side. Yes, it is only a game. It was so nice to see something bring a little bit of a smile back over here. A lot of my Japanese friends express their `shame` over the ongoing problems with the Fukushima nuclear plant. One, which as a westerner, I am not sure is their`s to carry.　To see something to celebrate on the national news here in Japan, is long overdue. And of course, seeing the sisterhood in full bloom is a plus. Let`s hope this is a sign somehow of better things to come........

Thank you Ma!

This is the life. I could get used to this. After the intense heat of the past week. I spot a neighbour`s head, bobbing along the top of my garden wall. "Lovely weather!"  I shout out in greeting. He laughs nervously. ( Most of the natives seem to get nervous round me for some unbeknown  reason.Must be my charisma.) "Make sure you close your shutters against the rain." he shouts over. " Thank you! I will!" I reply, eyeballs doing a roll up to the heavens shielded behind my Jackie Kennedy knock off sunglasses.

Talking about shutters, I tug at my top to ensure the booby twins haven`t done a Houdini in the tankini. Sarong is carrying herself very well in this wind. In fact, I`d better hold onto the curly wurly straw shaking with terror in my Vimto drink. A rumble of thunder heralds the  heavens opening and in gratitude, I hold up my face and embrace the rain. Rain that falls like the drapes of a million curtains. I can almost hear the plant life sigh with relief as I stand, holding my hands up under this humongous sports shower. A million tiny moisture beads bounce off my skin, refreshing and pummelling me. An image of me, stood under a breath taking waterfall, somewhere in the Amazon, all sultry waterproof liquid eyelinered up, a Cadbury`s Flake poised seductively before pouty lips...okay, I can dream on.

Elysium is disturbed by the sound of a shutter being unceremoniously dragged from above somewhere. Struggling to focus through a river of mascara, I see another neighbour staring curiously at me. "Are you okay? Typhoon Ma is hitting Tokyo!" She shouts over the wailing wind. I had to yell "Yes!" back twice before she nodded, laughed, shook her head and slammed the shutter closed.


I love a good typhoon,I do. Thank you, Ma! I`ll just finish my Vimto, the deckchair should stay put with my weigh on it.........

Weighing in There.

Bring it on,sister! Another kilogram flies off this week! I swear I can feel it too.  There`s a dash more pep in my step.I only hear yelps emitting out from my shoes`s heels rather than the full on agonizing screams of torment from a few weeks ago. Strangers on the street would jerk round at the sudden hubbub, to which I would shake my head in fake irritation and point to my feet. What is a girl supposed to do? I was born with weak ankles.

"Mummy!" My darling Bat Girl thought out load as I towelled myself off after a shower." Your boobies would look really great if they were just a bit higher." Oh, I couldn`t agree more,my darling. But I think `a bit` is an understatement. I need a booby hanger with built in hydraulics or boobs you can just pull off in the morning and Velcro back on at the desired height and position. I don`t think my boobs like me anymore. They have developed the same temperament as   seven year Bat Boy when walking outside together. Three feet ahead or behind of me but never actually next to me. Way non cool. Same with the booby twins. Three feet down near my feet or sidling under an armpit.I get them tangled in the straps of holdalls I sling over a shoulder.
"You`ll do it,Mummy!" smiles my lovely Bat Girl. She`s seven, she still does hope.

It doesn`t make it any easier living in a country where a `C` cup is seen as voluptuous. `E` is a fail on a test paper,ain`t it. And..most of the booby slings have tons of padding miraculously built in about two eye patch sized pieces of lace. I don`t want padding,I just want a ton of support. To be able to run down a street without giving myself a black eye while most of the male population eyes on. Or a cup size where one mischievous booby pops out in an unseamly and obvious fashion.

I have to face it. The boobies have relocated. Whether I like it or not. I feel a Victoria Secret splurge coming on. Something aggressive along the lines of `Push Up And Thrust` bra system or `Hang `Em Fro
 The Rafters`.

Yeah, a great push up bra will help in the ole confidence stakes. I just have to make sure that I let the booby twins down gently. Any sudden shift in air pressure on that front has been known to blow out the bedroom windows.

  

Somebody Please Rip My Clothes Off.......

.......and stone me to the brink of death with ice cubes. I am sorry Prime Minister Kan, I appreciate it`s only three but the airconditioning is going on. I swear I`ll keep it set at 27. I`ll just stand on the table, naked, my face a mere 1 inch from the vents until I feel  my body`s plumbing has aborted self destruct  mode. Thinking about it, I`d better not stand too close to any electrical appliances. I might just electrocute myself as a few gallons or so of sweat jets out of a zillion open pores. The kids would never get over it. Arriving home from school to find Mummy, butt naked, spreadeagled and toasted across the kitchen table, can of deodorant in one rigid hand.

Summer here really gets me down. SAD? What`s that? Give me a cold,frosty, grey day anytime. You can layer up or down in the cold. When it gets as hot as this, you can only layer down so far. Maybe if I lose enough weight, I can just spend the day in the chest freezer.

So, I am sorry Kan baby but the cooler is on for a while.......I will suitably punish myself later.......with a mere 300ml of beer at dinner instead of a keg.

Ants on Toast Anyone?

Here I am. With my Rambo hairdo...but sweating even more profusely.....and a wee bit less muscle tone, thinking how aptly `slaving away in the kitchen` fits this moment. At least slaves in the galleys had the comfort of a cool sea breeze and spray from the waves. The airconditioning doesn`t seem to be making a dent in the heat at all but we do have water. Little puddles of it on the table where I sit, disrobing potatoes from their filthy skins. Once you`ve seen one.....

I thought the cat had peed himself at first. No, he ain`t incontinent. He`s just scared.....`of them`. Never mind that one `of them` is about as big as one of his eyelashes. There he is. Cowering on top of the washing machine.

The ants have returned to their summer vacation retreat. My house. In fact, I think a furious battle is being waged between several  clans of ants over squatter`s rights. I swear they are all wearing  differing tartan plaids. I just missed swigging down a few of them with my morning tea. Why can`t they just go and jump off the Chuo Line like everyone else?

And then begs the question? What if I`ve been on an ant diet already the last couple of days? Where exactly have these nomadic beings journeyed from? The Government can`t even seem to stop certain, contaminated produce reaching consumers. I have no faith in them being able to control insects. Are they radioactive? Is it even possible to buy a Geiger counter sensitive enough to evaluate the situation?

The cat isn`t happy. Coming across a rather beastie of a cockroach once, cat practically passed out. I think a mouse would send him over the edge. He isn`t a `working cat`. He`s more of an `ornament cat`. He does a great impersonation of a giant, furry cushion. 

Is it possible for a human to sweat this much and survive? Questions. Questions.Where`s the mop? I`ll have a think while I eradicate a generation of warriors.

Shaking and Baking in Tokyo.

No wrath like a woman scorned as  people are learning, with most dire and tragic consequences this year. Mother Nature flexed her perfectly manicured nails over the Pacific and another quake shook the north east of Japan Sunday morning.

There we were, buzzing along of a morn and then the house started it`s oh too familiar shaking. The trees outside started doing their version of `Thriller`, the water in the pool rippled as sunbeams glinted across it`s surface. Windows rattled as did my children's nerves.

On the days you wake up and don`t immediately wonder if another one will strike, it does.

However, I  must admit to becoming a tad wee blase to them recently. Make no mistake. The whole shaky shaky thingie terrifies me. It`s just that we`ve had so many aftershocks over magnitude 5 or 6, you get used to them.

I have 30 bottles of mineral water, non-sparkling, in strategic spots around my house. Bags filled with tinned grub and crackers hang on both floors. One sac used to be full of cans of beer but we drank them all to calm our nerves many a yonder ago.

I vividly remember one lunchtime. Sat with three Japanese mummy friends as the walls and windows started to rattle. Alarms rang on all four phones.

"No problem!" announced my friend," It`s only a 5."  To which, fears allayed we all resumed drinking and chatting as lamps and pictures swayed.

"More tea anyone?" I asked, brushing the light switch cord away from my face as it swung too and fro.......

You Look Radiated, My Dear!

It`s that time of year again. I`ve only been outside on the balcony a mere five minutes and can smell scalp hair singeing in the morning sun. Still....suppose it beats stinky armpits on the old pongometre. With all the austerity measures regarding electricity being `voluntarily` enforced, I`ll be reeking around Tokyo for the next few months. But I am not alone. Major companies have temporarily revised working hours and holidays, in order to conserve electricity. Train lines have reduced their schedules. I even heard that top ranking politicians are relinquishing airconditioning in their limousines.

"Well,Jubai!" I enquire of the cat, conked out in the shade," What`s in store for us today?" I tend to talk to the cat.....and answer back for him, as he can`t seem to organise a coherent reply in any lingo recognisable to me.

Mercifully, this time of year is `pool season` in Japan. All the preschools and schools have pools, much to the delight of the kids.The `super` pools open next weekend which is causing ripples of excitement amongst my mates and I but...... March the 11th still hovers even as far away as Tokyo. The Dai Ichi nuclear plant in Fukushima is still rather poorly and is leaking various obnoxious substances, some invisible to the human eye, out into the surrounding environment. Out in the stores, in dim lighting, you can see folk squinting over Kanji and checking out the origin of that harmless looking potatoe or cucumber,languishing innocently in a palm. I`ve taken to ordering veg directly from a farmer in Kyushu.

The fish is....well...rather `fishy` at the moment and certain types are just off the menu. Same goes for meat, some is `dicey`, some okay depending on the region. Infact, certain folk think it is better to risk eating products from China than homegrown produce in Japan. What`s a bit of food poisoning next to thyroid cancer.

You can check the radiation levels in the air and tap water on websites every morning. Now the schools very kindly issue regular bulletins on the condition of the water in the school pool.  It`s a gradual thing. A lifestyle that we`ve slowly acclimatized to.

Cesium,Thorium and other scary sounding substances with names I can`t remember let alone pronounce, banter around on everyone`s lips.I can imagine the talk at the poolside,this summer.

Mummy A. "Did you check the water levels on the billboard at the entrance?"

Mummy B. "Yes! All within the government`s revised safety guidelines.!"

Collective sigh of relief, as vigorous rubbing of sunscreen resumes on small limbs.

Mummy C. " Damn....I forgot!" Pulling out a calculator and consulting a chart.

Everyone in chorus. "What`s wrong?"

Mummy C. "I forgot. Little Hiro has a dental xray scheduled tomorrow. So...." More tapping on calculator," Today, we watched TV. That`s 1 mrem. He already has one crown...so plus 0.1 mrem....plus the spinach we ate this morning.........one Xray is 1mrem.......Minus that from the yearly average of 360mrem....." As we all watch on in awe,"Oh...okay. No problem. He can stay in the pool today!"