Busy doing nothing......

The dawn light started to illuminate the front room of my riverside apartment a little after four this morning. The clear sky unblemished by even a single cloud was a sight my eyes beheld as sleep faded into nothing but a memory, and wakefulness reigned supreme.  

I gazed out the window after tending to the pressing morning ablutions that take priority when you climb past the 50-milestone. The river’s surface looked so calm and restful as if it were still in slumber's sweet protection. There was a hint of a ripple near the furthest shore that caught the eye before they turned upward at the watery blue. It was going to be a nice day, I didn’t need to check the weather forecast to inform me so, although I did, before I went for a wander. I seem to check the latest meteorological bulletins these days, I’m not sure why, other than the fact that I’m in a strange land and still not used to what are the normal climatic characteristics for this time of year.

If you are at all interested,  23 Celsius was the temperature at the time, which would climb to 27 a couple of hours later. The humidity level was somewhere between 54% and 68%, plus a gentle, comfortable breeze, which made it less sticky than usual. 

I packed up my backpack, which I mostly carry by its handle, rather than its designed method, to avoid a big, sweaty patch slowly expanding over my ample back.  I packed it with an umbrella (to also act as a parasol if it gets super hot), mobile internet thingymabob (so I can turn on Google Maps and find my way if I get lost), wallet, purse, folded napkins, baseball cap and reading glasses. Thus prepared, I set off without a single plan. About 10 steps later, at the end of my road, I had to decide, left or right. For no apparent reason,  I went left and crossed the Shin-Ohashi Bridge to head down the Shin-Ohashi Dori Avenue. 

Immediately on the other side of the bridge is the Lovot Museum, which is an appointment-only museum dedicated to Lovots, which are cuddly little robot-type pets or creatures. They look adorable bundles on wheels with a sensor horn on the top of the head, which has a built-in half-sphere camera that can see all directions, a half-sphere microphone that can determine the direction of audio, an illuminance sensor that detects brightness, and a temperature camera that can identify people and objects. These electronic plushy things have voices, along with this modern phenomenon of machine learning, to become ‘part of the family’ and have a memory. It apparently reduces stress and can encourage different behaviour and induce feelings of love and calmness. I’m not really sure what to make of it, they do look adorable, with magical eyes and in a nation where more people live alone rather than live with someone else, they could be the ideal companion. For example, they make no mess, they self-charge, they don’t require feeding, and they will never argue with you. I suppose a downside for some might be the price, JPY 599,500 or £2807.  I’ve yet to make a reservation for a visit, but you never know what I might do in future. 

My walk took me down the avenue all the way until a crossroads with Yaesu Street, which leads to Tokyo Station, so I turned right and walked towards the station. Now, one of the many reasons why I love this area is the underground shopping streets or mall if you prefer, so I descended at entrance/exit 24  to the air-conditioned delight of Yaechika. There are more than 180 eating places and stores in this subterranean retail heaven, and I love to lose half an hour or more down here. If you get the chance, you should wander freely down these avenues; you’ll probably find a bargain or a treat, or a bite to eat, whether you wanted to or not! Hokkaido ice cream is rather yummy!

I picked up a picnic lunch and headed up above, to the second floor, which is an open garden area on the Yaesu side, with a sail-like shade that seems to go almost the whole length of the station. The area is like a raised platform, which isn’t so surprising considering that behind a living wall of plants are the actual station platforms. There are raised beds of green plants of various descriptions, interspersed with monolithic benches, wooden seats for four, recliners for two, and clear plastic positions for solos. A little tip, if you run out of power, the benches have power sockets, so you’ll be able to charge your electronic devices. There is also a bar and a restaurant up here, with its own seating section. I’ve never eaten there, I’m never hungry enough for a full meal, and to be frankly honest, it's harder to watch people when you’re shovelling food down your gullet! 

After my picnic, I headed down a long passageway that takes you on a slightly darkened route under most of the 28 platforms to the other side of the station. Now, Yaesu is all funky and modern, the other side, Marunouchi, is the side with the hotel, classic architecture, history and the wide open square.  I plonked myself under a tree and simply enjoyed the sights of people going about their business. 

Sun continued to shine down, the temperature was up to 27 degrees, although with the tall buildings and the very soft wind, the ground temperature was much higher, at least in the high 30s!  Thusly, I was content to spend a little more time under the tree, sitting on a concrete seat wall, wondering where all the people were going, who they were going to see, what joy their journey would culminate in and so on.     

So many sights to see, so many people, so many lives intersecting, albeit briefly at one location at one time. Oddly, I saw more Western folk today than I’ve ever seen in Japan; most appeared slightly bemused as well, and I have no idea why. I smiled at all of them, and none smiled back; perhaps they were doing the Japanese thing, or perhaps they didn't like a smiling Brit to spoil their excursion in the land of the rising sun. I also spotted four or so school groups during my time sitting in the shade, all of which had group photos taken with the central Imperial entrance in the background.  There were some couples walking hand in hand across the big square, which I don’t think was romantic, for there was no doubt, with the sun shining down, those palms would be sweaty within seconds! There were a group of OAPs waiting for a bus tour to depart from just outside the very luxurious hotel. I was concerned that if they had to wait too long, they’d melt, but before you can recite the eight times table, four times the bus arrived, and the sweltering seniors stumbled on. There were quite a few businessmen, or salarymen as the Japanese call them, hurrying here and there, wearing dark suits with shiny shoes and expressions of bland indifference. There was a photographer with a big, expensive camera, which reminded me of the 80s Japanese tourist stereotype, with some amusement. Then there were three skinny youths with tattoos talking excessively loudly, lighting up cigarettes despite the non-smoking signs. But, they didn’t stay long after a camera was pointed in their direction and red flashing lights appeared along the roadway, not even long enough to finish their smokes, which they just threw to the ground and hurried off.

After a while, I’m not at all sure how long, I decided it was time to get up and walk the three and a half kilometres back to the apartment. I retraced almost the same route, and before I got back to my abode, I paused for a pink grapefruit beverage, which I consumed down at the side of the Sumida River. It was a day of doing very little, of relaxing and enjoying the gentleness of the busy city, yes, a day you could say, I was busy doing nothing and nothing the whole day long.

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Flowers along the riverside circles in my mind......

Along the side of the river, on the man-made concrete banks at various points are raised flower beds, populated with brightly coloured flowers or big bushes and mini trees. The names of which escape me, for I am not a green-fingered man or at all knowledgeable about such horticultural things. However, despite not knowing their names, they are all a pleasing sight for the eyes to feast upon. They instil a sense of calm and near tranquillity upon one. I say near tranquillity, after all, we are still in a city of many millions, and the daily activities of the populous hum ever present in the background. These flowerbeds are complemented by various bricks, tiles, or paving slabs along the walkways, some raised, some not, some rough, some smooth. It is a little nod to the aesthetic that you often see replicated through the city, which helps ensure its charm envelopes you. 

Thus far, my favourite pastime in quiet moments, whilst living on the banks of the Sumida River, is to walk along these banks and let my eyes wander and dance over the rippling river to the flowers and greenery. The various tall buildings beyond the flood containing walls vie for attention with the passing marine traffic, mostly made up of sightseeing boats and restaurant launches, some of those so futuristic looking you could be forgiven for thinking that aliens have landed. Occasionally, I'll see a working boat, a barge or tug, then even more fleetingly, one of the emergency services boats zooms past. 

Sometimes my mind ponders on the beauty of each flower or bush as I stroll past, other times I'll marvel at the architecture of the myriad of buildings that rise skyward. Of course, as a boat travels up or down the river, my thoughts are cajjouled in that direction. I wonder where it is going, who the captain is, what it costs, how many passengers are looking out at me upon the banks and other such practical matters. I have also let my mind wander into the lives of the other people I pass on these walkways, the way one often does when people watching from a pavement table at a cafe, or so. I don't know if I'm alone in that, but when I'm in a city, I can't stop my brain from wondering about the secret lives of the people I pass, either on the street or down here by the river. Are they married?  Are they single? Are they having a secret affair with the person on the next floor up in their apartment building? Are they working, and if so, what is the occupation? Are all questions that dart across my mind at lightning speed, which I'll never know the answers to, although I do occasionally make up!  

Of course, being down here, walking slowly on, not exactly aimless, yet with no particular destination in mind, I can often find my head on loftier things. I've pondered emotions, the difficulty of finding a place to call 'home', of wondering what one's point is and various 'heavyweight' subjects like that. Yes, down here on the riverbank, you can often think of higher things, mentally pontificate on the meaning of life, or lack thereof, of god and her presence or not, of peace and war. But mostly, I like the wind upon my face and my mind flittering over subjects as rapidly as the sun shimmers over the ripples of the waves on the river. 

Why am I here and what am I doing? Well, I wish I could give you a concrete and secure answer that would satisfy you and me alike, but I can't!  I suppose, I'm here because I've reached the age where I should settle down, grow old, and well, not to put too finer point on it - die! I'm mid-fifties, it's time to stop this aimless existence and stop in the place I feel most at home. Except, I don't know where 'home' actually is; I've not felt completely at 'home' in any place I've lived for the last twenty or so years. So, I guess right now, I'm just trying on Tokyo for size. I loved it as a tourist, so now, staying longer and seeing if the magic and shine of the big vibrant city wears off with time, and the grind gets me down. Or whether the delight of being one in 14 or so million shines like the brightest star in the sky. 

 

Dreams and desires

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Waseda - Keio Regatta

I was out on my balcony today, enjoying a leisurely mug of green tea and feeling the wind ruffle my hair, or what little I have left, when some sort of noise and commotion caught my attention from down below on the river. At first, I couldn't see what it was, then my eyes focused, and there, near the other bank, beyond the bridge, I spotted about eight or nine fellows in a rowing boat. Not only that, coming along the river was another rowing boat with a similar number of people rowing it.  Plus, there were a few other boats of various sizes, something was evidently going on and something a little more than the usual marine activity. 

It was a rowing race, I suppose it is similar to the annual University Boat Race between Oxford and Cambridge, held on the River Thames in dear ol' London town. However, here in Tokyo, its a series of races, including two really long ones that kicked off just across the river from me.  (Is kick off the right exprersson for the starting of a boat race?  I'm not sure!)

This is the annual Saikei Regatta, between Waseda and Keio universities, which has been running for 95 years, which is, needless to say, rather a long time! Although, it is a mere baby when compared to the London one, which saw its 171st one take place on 4th April this year.  

Some of the races took place upstream and were between 500 and 1000 metres in lenght, however the two that started near me had these rowers battle it out for 3,750 metres, which is about 2.3 miles or thereabouts. I know I couldn't row that far, at least not as fast as they were going, it might take me about three hours to complete the same distance they did in under 11 minutes!

I wonder how fast you could spiddle your macons or cleavers in a tidal river? 

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Soothing Sunday and Saturday shopping.

Sunday greeted my eyes with the early morning sunlight filtering through the net curtains that hang at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my rented apartment. It was, according to a blurry grab of my mobile phone from the small bedside table, a little after 5:30. I’m not usually up at this time of the morning; however,  I’ve still not quite got used to being in a completely different time zone. It could be said that, for the first time ever in my life, the lag of jet travel was deeply affecting me.  I’ve been tired in the daytime and waking up late in the evening, just as the world says sleepy time should be upon you.

I yawned as I stumbled out of bed, opened the curtains before gravity had its pressing effect on the bladder of a fifty-plus-year-old, and I scurried as fast as my fat little legs could carry me to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I emerged, relieved and busied myself with making a cup of coffee while I tried to drive the pain in my right foot out of my mind. It is, apparently, quite common for sufferers of Plantar fasciitis to have difficulty in starting to walk, and for me, first thing in the morning is the worst. Well, that’s not quite true, it is equally bad after I’ve rested a wee while after doing a lot of walking and then getting up, and yesterday I did oodles and oodles of walking.

Twenty-three thousand, seven hundred and eighty-nine steps I had completed yesterday, Saturday, as I’d walked to the popular shopping area of Ginza for some retail therapy. That amount of steps, judging by my height and step length, is a wee bit over eight miles, and that, my little cherubs, is a bloody long way. Yes, I experienced some pain yesterday, plus there were a few moments when I had to stop and either sit down or just lean against a wall and lift my foot off the ground for a short while. However, let it stop me from heading to Chou Dori in the Chou Ward of Tokyo, it did not.

I’ve just paused to unload the washing machine and place clean garments on two clothes racks,  one now on the balcony, the other in the bathroom, under the clothes drying fan, such are the boons of modern life!

Yesterday, I was up at a similar time and after a leisurely shower and ablutions, I headed out on an ambling walk in the right direction of that enclave of shopping delectation. I should have waited,  I should have fixed myself a decent breakfast, for time was on my side. I didn’t know, nor did anyone warn me, that Tokyoites are not early risers and thus, it is unusual to retail establishments, other than those of grocery or convenience kind, to be open before 10:30 or more likely 11:00 on weekends. Therefore, I had almost an hour to kill before the stores opened, and money, I could spend.  Thus, little old Jason explored the local area, going up backstreets and down alleyways, savouring the sights and sounds and digging the general atmosphere of the place.

Of course, I now know I could have gone down to a store called Don Quijote, affectionately known as Donki, which opens its door at the shockingly early time of seven ante meridiem. But, I didn’t know that at the time, and to be honest, you really do need to mentally prepare yourself for a visit to the haven of bargains, narrow aisles and crushing tourists that is your average Donki. 

One of the more globally well-known Japanese clothing brands must surely be Uniqlo, yes, it’s from Japan and not some European nation like many believe! I do like the store, its clothes and the whole vibe of the place, but perhaps it is a little young for me. However, I do rather prefer its slightly cheaper and more encompassing subsidiary GU. For me, the conventionally stylish and unadorned by big brand branding, garments that GU offer are, right up my street, as it were. Thus, at just gone 12:30, I was emerging from the said flagship store with a large big brown paper bag containing a pair of shorts, a hoodie, two caps, two jersey-type shirts and six t-shirts. A smile upon my face, not least because I hadn’t packed t-shirts and needed lighter clothes more practical for the local climatic conditions, but also for the 10% tax reduction I received for being a visitor to this beautiful country. 

Oddly, the walk homeward seemed somewhat shorter, and I was rather pleased with myself for making it all the way to Ginza and back without needing Google Maps to aid direction. Although after I dropped off my GU goodies, I tootled round to the local supermarket for supplies, including bogrolls and bananas. Two crucial things for an international traveller, I’m sure you’ll agree, although I did get some more things, like bread, rice, and other such delights for dinner. 

I turned left and then left again out of my apartment building this Sunday morning and strolled like an old fart along the banks of the river. My leisurely ambling took me just down to Sumidagawa-Ohashi Bridge, which carried me across the river before I made my way back home on the opposite bank. It was rather peaceful, despite being a Mecca for joggers of all ages and courting couples from the younger generation, all making the most of the oasis of calm. At various points along the riverside, there are beds of either wild or cultivated flowers, which combine with sections of shrubs and bushes to add to the beauty of the waterway. If you ever come to Tokyo, I suggest you take a walk down this way, it's an ideal way to relax and enjoy a peaceful part of the city. 

I’ll have to go now, the wind is picking up and I’ll have to retrieve the washing from the balcony before it blows away and someone crossing the Shin-Ohashi Bridge gets a face full of my undercrackers!

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News or no news.....

It is Thursday 9th April, 2026 and I’m sitting down to type this after returning from a domestic shopping trip and a walk. A walk that has seen me, according to a pedometer step counting app downloaded on my smart phone, take 18369 steps, the approximate equivalent of 6.38 miles. Now, you may think that’s quite a mediocre amount, but let me tell you that for a fat fifty-six year old with a metal knee and Plantar fasciitis, is a blooming mammoth amount.

I’ve just drunk a mug of strong black coffee and opened up the Sky News website, but I can’t help but sigh despondently at the headlines:- ‘US and Israel have violated ceasefire, say Iran – as more than 250 killed in Lebanon strikes’  ‘Massive destruction in Lebanon’s capital’ ‘‘Democracy kills’- The self-styled revolutionary turning his back on the West’ and ‘Artemis crew face questions as mission enters final stretch’. Each story vies for attention on the first part of the screen, which in the days of newspapers, would have been termed ‘before the fold’.  I’m not sure which story to click on first, none of them sound like good news. There is a lack of anything nice or indeed remotely positive. I give up and make another mug of coffee!

It is a little after three in the afternoon, my feet, or rather, just my right foot – the one with Plantar thingamabob, aches, not surprising considering the walking I’ve completed today after leaving the apartment not long before eight-thirty this morning. I’ve closed the news down, I’m not in the mood to read more about death and destruction in Lebanon, nor have I the will to expose myself to latest craziness of Donald Trump’s and Benjamin Netanyahu’s ill-fated and absurdly injudicious war with Iran. The news is so depressing these days, that sometimes, I just need a little respite from the madness of it all and live in a blissful bubble of ignorance, at least for a while.  

The reason for my venturing out this morning was to buy myself an extension cord, a packet of bin-bags, dish cloths and possibly a plant. Hardly the most exciting of retail excursions, however, I’m pleased to say, mission accomplished, although the plant has metamorphised into an artificial mini Hydrangea Bush. Which, is perhaps a more sensible option, I’m not in the slightest green-fingers of folk and even I can’t kill something that’s made of polyester and polyethylene. 

I also nipped into a supermarket just round the corner before coming home to get something healthy for dinner. If you’re interested: salad, bread, rice cakes will be followed by pineapple, pear and grapefruit. Also sneaking into my basket were some mini chocolate filled buns and a small bar of white chocolate, so my desire to have a healthy day, has somewhat been tarnished by my complete lack of willpower to avoid sweet things and treats!

I’ve just paused to head out on the balcony to see where a loud and somewhat harmonious siren of a passing ambulance was coming from or heading to. Yet, despite is sonorous tones reaching me up on the seventh floor, I could not locate the said emergency vehicle or see where it was heading. Instead I busied myself with a brief look at a boat chugging up the never ceasing undulations of the river below. I do like the view, the river, the way the sunlight dances off the waves and wake like thousands of tiny mirrors. I always find rivers, just like the sea, to have a calming affect upon me. However, coming back to the keyboard, I fear you could take me to trading standards and complain about the title of this blog. Not the diary bit, but the seafront bit. You see, right now, I am not residing on the coast, nope, I am quite a few kilometres away from any particular seafront!  

Nine days ago I left my flat on the seafront just outside Hastings after more than a decade and headed somewhere completely different, although still with a view of rippling water. This time it isn’t the English Channel that greets my eyes each morning, but the darker river, called Sumida, that flows some sixteen or so miles from Iwabuchi to Tokyo Bay. Yes, you’re right, it isn’t in the UK, but, the archipelago of Japan and the major city of Tokyo to be more precise. 

I came to Japan for a six week holiday in November and December last year and really enjoyed myself, so much so that when my tenancy came to an end in St Leonard’s I thought little of boarding a passing Boeing 787-9 and flying more than thirteen hours to the land of the rising sun!

I’ve rented an apartment on the river for three months, which is the length of an initial tourist visa given upon arrival to British citizens. There is a possibility to extend the visa for another ninety days, making a total six month stay. I’ve already informed the lettings company that I do intend to extend my stay here as I sample ‘living’ in Japan rather than just ‘visiting’ it as a tourist. 

Right now I know little Japanese, except good morning, thank you very much and how to ask the way to the nearest train station or where the toilet is, but I’m sure I’ll pick up more the longer I stay here. However, right now, Google Lens app with its language translation function is a vital addition to my daily life in a land where the local language contains three different writing styles. Although, as anyone who has ever been here will tell you, a lot of products offered for sale in the numerous convenience stores also proclaim their contents in English. Equally, many of the street signs, trains, subways and buses are in both Japanese and English, thus ensuring even the most language limited visitor can get by.

I’ll show you around the apartment at another time, right now, my stomach is rumbling loudly, informing me it needs food, something it hasn’t had since breakfast around six-thirty this morning, and, for a fatty like me, is a long time ago! 

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It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Hello again, how the flippin’ ‘eck are you?

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

I’m not even sure when the last time I was here putting words in some sort of order to resemble a sentence that would form vague coherent thoughts. Nor can I recall a time when you were here reading those very words!

I’m not sure where to begin, what to say, how to fill you in on all the intervening time, since last we communicated, if indeed, we ever did.  For all I know, this could be the very first time you’ve stumbled upon these very pages, that was once upon a time, called a blog.

So, if you are new around here,  I’m Jason, although most people call me Jay, I’m a man, now well into my fifties and I used to be a committed blogger.  [insert your own joke about how I should have been committed years ago] I would write various entries in this space, some about current affairs, some news, essays of my mind, gay lifestyle related stuff but mostly I was just documenting my life in all its glory or lack thereof. I’d let my fingers dance upon the keys on a weekly basis, although, it was quite often much more than weekly. I’d sometimes pour my heart out in this sphere of the internet for your delectation, desire or derision. There was very little that was ‘off limits’ I was as open as Dartmoor,  indeed, I used to have a little motto proudly proclaiming, ‘my life if an open book, it just needs you to turn the page!’ 

Then one day, I wasn’t there, or here, or ...well, you get my meaning.  I just stopped coming by so regularly, until one morning I just stopped blogging altogether. I sincerely wish I could recall the reason, or reasons why my mind could no longer drag up the enthusiasm to sit at a desk, in front of a keyboard and let letters spew forth into words. But, I can’t, not really, sure there are vague reminiscences of death threats, of boredom, of life changes, but the fog of forgetfulness is rather thick over those times. In my defence, the last proper bloggy type post here was more than a decade ago, so I hope I can be forgiven for not exactly being as sharp as a…..sharp thing as far as memory goes! 

Yes, it was back in October of 2013 that I was last here, properly, and that post was a groan about customer service from the local supermarket and how a complaint had resulted in a £10 voucher to say sorry. I’ve just reread that post and it was, is and forever will be a little on the dull side, but then again, life isn’t all rapid fire excitement!  That post, like all the others are still here, in an electronic archive of sorts. I could, if I so desired, click a few buttons and republished the lot. Once again, the inner workings of my mind, soul could be out in the open and that diary of my life in the form of 1286 blog posts be in the public domain. I’m not sure I want to do that, the oldest one seems to date back to October 2007 and I’m not sure how interesting something from that long ago really is in these current crazy times. 

Although, thinking about it,  my first blog wasn’t here, it was on a thing called ‘expage’ which was a web hosting platform from back in the day. I think it dates back to 1997 or thereabouts, but my expages are of the year 2000 vintage. Oh what fun it was back then, you didn’t need to know how to code to create simple designs and colourful pages. Yes, by today’s standards it looks more like Ceefax or Oracle than a website, but back in those days it was ‘funky’ at least I thought so!

Thanks to the WayBack Machine, that blog is still there, yes all archived, dusty and unedited. I read a tiny sample of it the other day and it made me cringe, it honestly did. But, hey, I’m sure if you were to look over the things you did in the year 2000, assuming of course you were around back then, you’d experience a similar sensation of embarrassment and shame. One day I suppose, I might just be brave enough to post a link to it, you never know!

When I originally decided to come back to the blogosphere, I was going to dedicate the first post to catching you up on what had occurred since I was last here. However, considering it was back in 2013 or so, that might be a bit of a tall order. No, not might, it certainly would be a mammoth undertaking to type all that stuff, so much so that my fingers would be worn down to blistered stubby knuckles and your eyes would be bloodshot and bleary [more than they are normally!] before you got even half way. So, lets just whizz through some headlines….. I changed jobs, I moved home, my mother died of cancer, my brother took his own life, my father died of cancer, I’ve had some bits cut out of my body, I’ve retired, I’ve put on weight, I’ve taken some of it off again, I’ve travelled and yet, after all this time, I still have a hankering for cheesecake!

Phew,  that was a long one! 918 words long to be exact, although, now that I’ve typed that, it is 932 words long, of which around 700 are superfluous to requirements!

Thank you for reading this far, if indeed you have, and, in the words of Chris Mason, you clearly ooze stamina.  I’ll be back soon with another post, to let you know where I am, what I’m doing and how I’m doing it.  It would be great if you’d come back and say hi, especially if you used to come and visit me in times passed.  I’d equally like it, if this is your first time here, if you popped up to say hello, if you’re so inclined.

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