Bloody 'ell! Better get some cleaning done for my at home classes day tomorrow!

Dirty Dialogues For The Up And Coming Porn Star.

Don`t think I`ve ever met anyone so beautiful in real life. I must admit I do like the occasional ganders in the celebrity mags. I like to console myself that in all probability nobody really looks like that in the real world. So it was pretty distressing to open my door and find a real life, living and breathing goddess entering my genkan.

"I am sorry," Goddess breathed through perfectly pouty lips," I hope I am not late!"

"No,...not at all!" I replied, my eyeballs homing in on perfectly shaped eyebrows and luminescent skin. Wow. Even if I spent the next twenty years dining solely on produce grown directly outside of the Fukushima Dai Ichi nuclear plant gates, my skin would never glow like that. Oh God, did I check my `beauty spot` for errant hairs this morning? Where`s a stone? A big one I can go crawl under.

"So, Ms Goddess. Please tell me why you want to study English?"

"Well,"  she sighed, sliding me a coy glance," For my job..really."  For God`s sake. Get a bloody grip woman and stop staring at her like that. She`s going to think you are a closet lesbian.

"And what is your job?" I enquired.

"I am in the entertainment industry," She gushed as I made the appropriate `wow` responses. "And as I feel that you have a very wide mind, I`d like to tell you that I work in porn."

"Oh....,"  as my mind raced to find a pertinent answer. " Wow!" Yes. Wow! But what do porn stars talk about? In fact, doesn`t she know it`s rude to talk with your mouth full?  I have a ton of textbooks but none entitled `Dirty Dialogues For The Up and Coming Porn Star`. Throw me a new challenge and make my day.

"My stage name is **** *****," Goddess ventured on," Maybe you heard of me ?"

"Yes, I think I might ......." To which she smiled and gave a little satisfied shrug. Why the hell did I say that. My stock reply to anyone who tells me they had something published,something shown at  an exhibition, a small part on a TV ad. "Yes, I might have" sounds a lot better than "Never bloody heard of you!"  The only porn I`ve seen recently was when the kids accidentally switched onto the porn channel on cable TV. Luckily, it was just a few seconds of a close up of a woman`s face . I explained she was making those moaning noises as she was upset at her brother for smashing her latest Lego creation. Went down well. No more ado. All remote controls now child proofed. Please don`t ask me to critique your performance.

In my younger days, I dated a hunk of a guy with hair down to his waist. Total eye candy. The spell was broken every time he opened his mouth. God can giveth and God can taketh. He got a job touring with the `Strip-in-the-Dales`. A bit like The Chippendale's but up north of England.

" I want to branch out and my dream is to break into the American porn circuit," Goddess went on," So I want to improve my English and audition for bigger roles."

Wants meatier roles, I wrote down.

"Okay,! I grin," When do you want your first lesson?"

"You have terrific cheekbones," Benevolent Goddess praised.

"Well,...thank you!" I laughed in delight. Just a shame they are encased in 20 kilograms of unwanted padding with a control centre on top that likes to go awol on me.

There`s a lot more to this porn stuff than get your knickers off. They make it look easy but a lot of technique required. Wonder who Mrs Life will introduce me to next? It`s one giant learning curve....Bring it on,baby!

Becoming a CEO Isn`t As Easy As It Looks!

" Big,fat and furry!" The Booby Slayer enunciates slowly, accompanied by large sweeping gestures of her wee hands. The teacher, catching my eye makes shrugging motions and in Japanese. "I am sorry but I not sure what`s she talking about!"

"Our cat!" sighs Little Booby Slayer in frustration and Japanese. As we exited the daycare centre. "It`s about time they started doing a bit more English in there,Mummy." Huge, beautiful lakes of light brown stare in annoyance into my heavily Maybellined doors to the soul.

"Yes, I know,darling but it`s a Japanese daycare. They `do` Japanese. It`s a real gift for you to be able to speak different languages." I gently reply, giving the little hand a loving squeeze.

"But,Mummy!" Booby Slayer protests," Twinkle Twinkle Little Star sounds so poo poo in Japanese!"

I am working on it,lovie. Mummy trudged miles today, posting leaflets through all shapes and sizes of postboxes. Still no grabbers. Of the English lingo classes, that is.

"Come back and work for us full-time,"  My manager in the Big Company purred," Lots of perks!"

Yeah...I have no doubt about the perks. It`s just that scanning down the list, perk No 5, an office view  from the thirtieth something floor of Tokyo Bay...so close to the bay that I could hang out a rod and catch my dinner.....leaves me shivering in dread rather than delight. Maybe this is the Big Company`s new agenda on early retirement. Send the workers they don`t like out there just in case there`s another Big One with a tsunami encore. I didn`t vocalise this as not many people are `in tune` with my sense of humour.

Hubby already works quite a distance away. I don`t know. Call me a wuss but I want to be near the kids. We are still experiencing aftershocks. I want to be able to get to the kids quickly if.....touching wood here....anything else happens in Tokyo. I got a lot of classes in this great little place down the road. Now I am trying to drum up some students for my home classes. It`s akin to pulling teeth.And....if I cannot prove to the lovely folks down at the city office next month that teeth have indeedy been pulled, varnished and currently displayed on my trophy wall, they just might revoke my daycare.

" I think if we work together," beams Booby Slayer up at me," We can crack it!"

Keep positive in life.....and extend the net. Just not over Tokyo Bay.

Racing to the Beat of the Drum.....

.....again. He must have timed his summer hols with ours. Lovely waking up of a morn and sauntering down stairs to a leisurely breakfast...well, in between the food fights and normal sibling warfare that is part and parcel of family life that is.....cruising out to the pools for an all day dip. Now he`s back. In the corner. Beating away on his drum most heartily with that stupid grin on his face. Where are the darts? And his bloody loincloth looks like it hasn`t been washed a while too. "Shut up!" I screech," I am going as fast as I bloody can!" 

" Mummy! Will you please stop shouting at the wall! " Bat Boy wailed, rolling eyeballs up in an enviable Exorcist movement, "No wonder everyone thinks you are bloody weird!"

"Stop swearing!" I admonish.

"Why?" Bat Boy counters, " You are always bloody swearing!"

"No, I bloo...blo..antly don`t!" I stammer back.

"Chill out,Mummy." smiles three year old The Booby Slayer.

"Yeah...chill out,Mumsy," adds Bat Girl," The world ain`t going to end if our bento is burnt!"

"When I feel stressed, I like to play with my willy," interjects Bat Boy.

"Thanks for sharing,love." I grin, somewhat forcibly." But we didn`t need to know that."

The drum beat notches up as I text hubby ` Your son is talking about willy sports in public again. Fatherly chat required tonight. Thank you`. Oh bloody hell, I can smell something burning.

"Bloody hell," shouts out Bat Girl," The pizza for our lunch box is on fire....again, Mummy!"

The drum beat fills my ears as I feel the house lurch and the smell of the sea assaults my nostrils.

"Coming!" I cry out, sounding like Alpha Dalek from Dr Who.

" I am feeling a bit stressed,Mummy!" cries The Booby Slayer." Can I play with  Bat Boy`s willy?"

"No, you can`t!" I firmly reply while attempting to put out the pizza bonfire....


    

And The Punches Just Keep Coming On Japan`s Radiating Future.

I am just a simple lass. I don`t know much about much. I am a whizz at  changing two babies at once.The record is 1minute 20 seconds and standing. . I am known for my mean bacon and chip butties...or was. These days, if someone offers you something to eat, it is considered polite to ask them where exactly they got the ingredients from.

"Yes," my Japanese mummy friend revealed to me a few weeks ago,"I called the school and they confirmed that produce from Fukushima was being used in the school lunches."  As an accord of exclamations, tinged heavily with disbelief bounced off the ceiling.   " Apparently, until the government tells them the produce isn`t okay, they will continue to use it.....in our children`s lunches."

Well, apparently, despite repeated assurances that the beef was safe, it wasn`t.  Five months on from the triple catastrophe, the government issued a ban on beef products from Fukushima only last week. Miyagi and Iwate prefectures followed this week. Today on the news, the government will test the rice crops in 19 prefectures. Officialdom hasn`t even cast it`s beady eyes on  vegetables, chicken or pork yet. I have a sinking feeling we already know the answer.

Well, message to whoever it may concern, regarding the bans....you are way too late. You couldn`t organise a piss up in a brewery. Why wasn`t there a total boycott imposed from day one. Until at least, the extent of the radiation contamination was known. It was left up to the individual prefectures to control the testing and safe distribution of food. Prefectures who rely on agriculture to sustain their economies. A bit like asking children, in a lovely soft tone, to not lick out the cake bowl while you turn your back.. Promise me....promise me,pretty please.

I keep hearing about  `the economy` and `let`s support the people in Tohoku`. How has deceit, and ineptitude on such a vast scale helped the `economy? Along with stories about certain companies buying contaminated produce then relabelling it under a different area`s name, the public is now exceptionally leery of produce from anywhere in Japan. Consumer confidence has been stomped to death by greed. I`d be more inclined to believe a report on tonight`s news that little green aliens have landed and opened up their own food halls over in Okinawa than any government uttered assurances about food. In fact, those little green aliens would probably do a rip roaring trade shipping all over Japan.

How ultimately does this help the `people of Tohoku`? Thousands of poor souls, still sitting in shelters, in makeshift cardboard compartments. Children playing in school contaminated playgrounds who should have been evacuated months ago. Talk about adding insult to grievous injury. Money talks here in Japan. Folk `s don`t figure. And the beautiful children who are Japan`s future?


"Record High Radiation Reported At Crippled Fukushima Nuclear Plant"  yet another faith inspiring top news article today. But, not to worry, the government and TEPCO  commented that they remain `On target to bring the plant to a safe shutdown in January`. What are we on target for really?. Do you actually mean to suggest that there is a plan in all of this farce?   Some coherent proactive strategy so underground that it is invisible for anyone with braincells to grasp? Years from now, will we look back and think, yeah, they really were on top of stuff?

No way are any of my kids eating school lunches from September. It`s packed lunches for us. My reason to the school. They have developed allergies. They are severely allergic to any Japanese produce until otherwise notified. .

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!"

The Cat Burglar He Ain`t.

   This must be the official definition of `heaven`. Take a photo. Of me. Sat in first class on the Nex to Narita Airport. Doing nothing but gazing out at the suburbs zooming by. I must admit, it did take me a good ten minutes to subdue the urge to give the trolley lady a hand with her orders. Not to mention, the the ads hanging a little bit too much to the left for my liking. That sinking feeling that I`ve forgotten something is well...sinking a tad after I wrote `the kids are at home with Dad` a hundred times. I can actually hear my thoughts now that the fervour of three wee ones all grappling for my attention, at the same moment is now Dad`s predicament across Tokyo somewhere. Yeah. Take a picture and place it next to the definition for `heaven` in an English dictionary.

"Ahem." I hear a throat clearing opposite and am stunned to see that it is my Grandma sat opposite. "Gran," I exclaim joyously," What a lovely surprise! You are looking well!"  For a person who died eight years ago, surprise was rather an understatement of the situation.

"You need  to wake up,lovely,"  she purred balancing a tuna sushi roll between deftly held chopsticks. "There`s a man in the garden." Wrenching my head round to look out the window at the hundreds of gardens in differing states of bloom, I enquire. " Which garden?" With a sigh and a smile, Grandma replies. "Your garden,darling. There is a man in your garden!"

I sit up rigid in the bed. The Dreambends. Almost as bad as the Babybends. I swear there is a tangible smell l of Old Spice left from that encounter and then I hear the noise. On the balcony from the twin`s room next door.

I still cannot rationalise what I did. Call me stupid, naive, brave or just empowered from witnessing my dead `meat and Yorkshire puddings` Gran consume sushi heartily with double helpings of wasabe. Obviously being dead adds a new lease of life to things. I got out of bed. Walked into the twin`s bedroom. Saw the outline of someone on the balcony outside, fiddling with the door. I strode over to the door. Unlocked it, opened it and came nose to nose with a very startled young man. "What the hell do you think you are doing on my balcony?" I roared in Japanese, feeling anger bubbling up through me. "Get off my balcony NOW!" To which, he swiftly acquiesced, jumping over the railings, hitting the tree nearby and thudding to the garden below.Pulling his T-shirt over his head, in a vain attempt to hide his features only resulted  in a rather nasty collision with another tree. Gobsmacked, I watched as he pulled a can of beer from the air,took a swig and he was over the wall into the neighbour`s garden.

One police car, six police bikes, and a total of ten police later in my garden. It is 4am and pouring with rain. Two of the policemen know me from the summer when my underwear kept being stolen from my washing line. Victoria Secret, to say the least. Worth bringing the FBI in, in my opinion.

"So?" Policeman in charge pauses," He was a burglar?" I shake my head. " I am not sure!" And further to the officer`s enquiring look. " I mean a real burglar wouldn`t wear a white T-shirt and be drinking beer in between jobs, would he?"  I shrug. "Totally stupid,right?" I reinforce with a smile. "Unless he was a foreigner," bursts out one officer laughingly patting me on the back, followed with hearty guffaws filling the night sky as I quickly interjected. " Or a member of the Japanese police constabulary!" as more back tapping and laughter rose up. Rose up around my husband stood horrified to the spot, making slashing noises across his throat at me.

Ten minutes later they caught him. He was found terrified, hiding in a bush in some nearby garden. Drunk and rambling on that a foreigner had tried to murder him.

We found his shoes, wedged in the tree this morning. If he wants them, he can come and ring my doorbell like a civilised person and ask for them back.

Oh....and the police, after I thanked them for all their help and kindness, informed me that my kidnapped underwear is now a cold case......

In The News. Yokohama Hotel Offers It Doggy Style....

Weddings that is.  A hotel in Yokohama is now offering the bride and groom the option of having their pet pooch along as a `witness`. Just as I was wondering what exactly the doggies in question would be sealing this momentous occasion with, the article then goes on to explain that the doggy `witnesses` attending can `seal their paws` on paper to show their corroboration on the joyful day.

www.japantoday.com/category/national/view/yokohama-hotel-offers-weddings-with-canine-witnesses

I can just imagine it. A whole new dimension in the `wedding stress` stratosphere opening. Instead of your future in laws arguing the toss over the flower arrangements or guest list, it could now be superseded with whose canine takes the momentous day`s biscuit. Would the bride be upstaged by little furry Tixibell decked out in matching mini dress,diamante and bouffant hair with decorations?

Over the last ten years in Tokyo, I`ve noticed the doggy presence intensifying on the streets. Canine restaurants springing up, doggy fashion stores, doggy salons and don`t get me on the doggy prams we now see everywhere. Don`t get me wrong! I adore animals but pampered pooches being wheeled around like wee bairns, dripping with designer clothes and jewellery has the `lights are on but nobody is home` or `please go get a life` pong to it. Save it for the reality shows set in totally unreal Hollywood. It`s like listening to nails scratching down a blackboard when you experience it constantly in your everyday life. particularly when you are forced to wait for an elevator with your twin toddlers in the double pram so a couple of ladies can go first with their wee poochies sleeping in their new doggy perambulators.

But maybe it`s my generation. My mum could never understand why I thought my Siouxie and the Banshee hairstyle was sexy.

The League Of The Lego.

I hate Lego. White, black, green , yellow, red, blue, purple...I am not a racist. I hate Lego. It wasn`t always this way. As a child, I adored the stuff. Tinkered with it for hours but  there`s a thin line between love and hate, they say.

I am sure it breeds faster than gerbils. I know gerbils. I took four home one summer holiday from school. Two boys, two gals. "Whatever you do," warned Ms Teacher, perfectly manicured nail waving pointedly two inches from my nose for extra effect," Do not put them together in the same cage." Me being the worldly age of 14, where you know everything, sick to death of all these old farts harping on about head transplants,  I took pity on the wee things one hot day and let them loose in the `big` pen. Eight weeks later, I took over sixty back to the school. In a new cage my Dad had constructed as the harem had started to gain momentum. I know gerbils.

"So what do you not like about living here?" enquired a mutual mate of hubby and mine one evening." The cockroaches and..." I paused as my lip started to curl and friend interjected "Let me guess... the hot and humid summers?" Shaking my head, I spat out  "Lego."

After being impaled through either foot numerous times on a daily basis, I have decided that every piece of Lego needs to be redesigned with it`s own mini airbag. Sweeping a field for landmines somewhere out in south east Asia must be a hell of a lot easier than securing the first floor in my place. These tiny, plastic tyrants are not only magically capable of transporting themselves anywhere throughout the house but once there, have chameleon qualities rendering them invisible to the naked eye. My confidence to walk `shoe free` into any room has been shattered, placing a great strain on me emotionally and physically. " Everything okay?" enquired my mummy friend stumbling onto me hopping, swaying and dancing around on my toes, humming under my breath " I know you are in here!"  in her son`s playroom.

I`ve heard rumours that a piece of Lego was even found on the moon. Imitating a moon rock.Nearly ripped a hole in the astronaut`s  boots. But it was all hushed up by The Whitehouse.....probably by another piece of Lego. (Cue in Goldsmith`s `Ave Santani` in the background)

Besides the physical daily torture, Lego also has other insidious means at it`s collective `We are The Lego` hand to stomp it`s presence into your psyche. Yesterday early morn, I was wrenched from a deep sleep by what I thought at first, was a bat flapping in my face. A torchlight revealed Batboy. "What is it?....Did we have another aftershock?" as I reassured him with a hug, suddenly noticing that the house was silent....and still. And the clock`s hands glowed on 5.30. "No,Mummy." Batboy grinned his lopsided grin, and holding out a catalogue, flapping it excitedly in my face "I know what I want for Christmas.This new Star Wars Lego kit..........."

Something`s Afoot Again!

Foot is back. The left one. Not that Sir Foot has been away on holiday. Or fell off as I strolled leisurely around the park, only to notice a few hours later that something wasn`t quite right.......or left. Now while the rest of me is beyond doubt female, Sir Foot, albeit a cross dresser, is decidedly male. I have deduced this because a female would have better sense than to develop an injury when you might just need all your strength and dexterity to flee to safety. (Tokyo is still having aftershocks) Sir Foot has protested that it is in fact ole Achilles that just cannot be brought to heel. A bad carpenter always blames his tools, I say.

"What`s wrong with the foot?" Neighbour enquired as I hobbled around our front garden sorting garbage. "It`s the old Achilles problem," I explained," Thanks for your concern but please don......."  And was surprised to hear Neighbour repeat the same question ......but in the opposite direction towards the pathway this time and then hubby`s voice replying, " It`s the old Achilles problem. It`s no problem."

I managed to limp over without too much grimacing. Grimacing with make up on would be frightening enough. Grimacing with a bare face? I`d be up for premeditated murder.

"Thank you!"  I breathed in Japanese," But I am okay!"  Beaming my broadest smile as Neighbour continued to direct his gaze at hubby. " Must be difficult trying to look after three kids with a sore foot......" to which I interjected, "Thanks again for your concern but when you have three kids you just tend to get on with it!" Topped with another smile.

"It`s no problem, thank you" hubby reassured the Neighbour, who still hadn`t cast a glance in my direction. "Well!" I pushed in...literally with my face in front of hubby`s, trying to engage eye contact with Neighbour," I wouldn`t say totally no problem but you do what you have to do in these situations."

"Right then," grinned Neighbour as I made a gesture of lifting either armpit and sniffing it followed by a quick rendition of  Queen`s `The Invisible Man` through pursed lips," Everyone`s okay. See you later,"  And suddenly acknowledging my presence and holding his hands up in protest," Sorry. English. no no."

"What the hell," I throw at hubby as Neighbour retreats back under his....sorry, into his house."Excuse me but I thought I was speaking Japanese...."

"Leave it,Sweetie.! " soothed hubby ever the diplomat,"Are you going to make me one of your famous bacon butties?"

"I`ll have to gather mt strength about me," I joke," This foot might be affecting a lot more than my walking"

Mighty Proud To Be British In Tokyo. Cheers William and Kate!

She looked every inch a princess. `HRH She` being my mate Kate, that is. I was invited to the wedding but didn`t want to risk upstaging anyone. I was even thinking of just popping over for the day but was worried if the paparazzi got word, the mass media`s attention might be wrongly diverted.

Well...Okay....I might be stretching the truth a wee tad but I do know more about her than some of my friends, thanks to the media.

 Try and shoot  down this gingerbread girl with a heat seeker missile if you can but..... I reckon no country does pomp, pageantry or jubilee with as much panache as the British.

I remember being a lowly newspaper girl.....or should it be `lofty` compared to my current occupation as `general slave`......on July 29th 1981. It took me almost four hours to complete a run that normally took thirty minutes. I didn`t complain. My British `stiff upper lip` kept it resolve from street party to street party where I was plied with every kind of soft drink and grub ever known to half lings.The whole country was in party mode.

I`d like to feel that Princess Diana had something to do with changing Madame Weather`s mind and coaxing the sun out for the day. Kate looked luminescent in her gown. `Which Disney princess is that?` enquired Booby Slayer mesmerised by a real carriage with horsemen appearing on screen. "What`s he doing to her hands,?" wee one asked later on in the ceremony,to which I gave a brief explanation about when a Prince falls in love with a Princess, he gives her a special ring and marries her.

" What does `Give all my worldly goods` mean?" Batboy trilled up, his forehead creased in a frown.  " It means you share your things." I swiftly answered, eyes glued onto the screen. "What?" screeched Batboy,"Even your best Lego set?...Yuck! I am never going to marry anybody!"  Just as  Booby Slayer`s booming tenth count of digits on both hands neared breaking point, pitched against my considerable efforts in listening to wedding vows being exchanged, she suddenly piped up "Mummy. I need more fingers....."  and at my look of mystification, " ...for the rings...from all the princes...." As Batboy lugged his Lego sets up to his room....


I feel intoxicated by just watching the scenes from Britain. The crowds, thousands of people so close together, regardless of nationality, race or class, joined together in revelry celebrating a new generation within the Royal Family. I raise a glass to you all...wherever you may be....`May the best of your past be the worst of your future`.

My Life In Tokyo Post March The 11th.

It was a glorious morn, capped with a vivid ultramarine sky dotted with puffball clouds, tendrils drifting lazily .I was in the garden with The BoobySlayer. Pruning and priming in anticipation of the upcoming  cherry blossom season. Bat Boy and Bat Girl arriving home from school, had just stepped out on the patio as I felt the first shakes. "Oh,Mum! Look at the trees!" gasped Batboy in awe. "Let`s go inside," I singsonged. As we stepped inside, the shaking started to intensify.Missiles, rudely dislodged, rained down from all angles. I will never forget standing there, mouth probably agape, three kids clutching my legs, as I struggled to stay standing and deflect flying objects. The noise was indescribable. A roaring. A howling of metal, wood and earth mingled with  the screams of my children and neighbours. The rocking gained sudden momentum and we were thrown down onto the ground. I grabbed the patio door with one hand while covering my wee ones`s bodies.

 I looked up at the sky. Nope, it hadn`t changed one iota over the past minute, and thought that this was going to be the day we died. At least it was a nice day for it. I suddenly thought of my Gran and one of her most common sayings. `When your number`s up. It`s up.` An image of a giant bingo ball machine popped up...balls bouncing in all directions wildly in my head. Sadness couldn't compete with the all encompassing terror mingled with a smidgen of awe at Mother nature`s capabilities. The lamp posts swinging madly like those little animal springy ride ons  that my smallest one so loves. Buildings and vehicles  swinging hysterically. And the  people being thrown down onto the ground, like straw dollies hurled around by a child having a tantrum.

My life has been split into two parts. The naive pre `11th of march 2.46` me. Waltzing around in my little world, humming a wee ditty, secure in the knowledge that things such as civil war, plague, AIDS, huge earthquakes and tsunamis only happen to other folk...and mainly only actors in a movie. Compared to the post `11th of March` me who has looked under the bed and not only come face to face with  the bogeyman but been snogged quite frenziedly by him.


Life in Tokyo is pretty much back to normal. On the surface anyway. Two months ago, the first thing I did of a morn was to put on the kettle.These days, it`s switch on the computer to check our area`s radiation levels. I still pass the same young guy every morning. A fine specimen if ever I saw one. Sweat accentuating every toned muscle as he jogs. He now dons a small Geiger clipped next to his pedanometre. 

My mobile phone is now equipped with an earthquake alarm. One that can be set to differing intensities. And what kind of sound you enquire, heralds an earthquake warning? A WW2 air raid siren? A wee tune from Holst`s `The Planets`? Screaming? Nope. A trill that immediately conjures up images of Tinkerbell and conies, not screaming,mass panic, destruction or death. However, in Tokyo, it stirs the same reaction as a siren erupting into life in a biological warfare research centre, with alarms ringing simultaneously .Everyone clamouring to check magnitude and where exactly.

My view on life has changed irrevocably. Transfixed in a moment in time, that you have absolutely no control over, where you feel with your whole being that death is coming, spun my whole spiritual being on it`s axis. I feel so grateful to be alive. I savour every day. Possessions have lost their importance. Nothing, and I mean nothing means more than my family, my friends. I feel a renewed sense of purpose to not waste my life when so many thousands lost theirs.

The Saga Of The Neighbours Takes A Twist. Free Willy Lives Across The Path.

Here I am. Enjoying `Barnaby` on Mystery Channel when I hear  a crash from outside. Pulling a coat over my PJ's and crutches on either arm, I open the front door to see....


The Neighbour from the house opposite. Perched high up in a tree in his garden......sawing away at the branch of said tree.....So what you say. Ain`t a chap entitled to do a spot of gardening when he likes. Yes, so true but factor in a few points please. It`s raining.  It`s after 10pm. He is wearing only a pair of boxer shorts......boxer shorts with a very unimpressed willy hanging out the front......I don`t think he realises the risk of frostbite in a rather delicate area.

He waved "Good Evening! Just trimming the tree!" I waved back and said "Nice weather for it" and hobbled back indoors.

When in Rome do as the Romans do. I didn`t see a thing. Not even a willy.