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

The Skytree points like a needle to the heavens above.....

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. 

The flowerbeds are a delight for the eyes and the mind

Only in Tokyo do spaceships float!

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. 

There is beauty with every step!

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!  

A sea of dasies and not a chain in sight!

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. 

Traditionally modern!

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. 

Sometimes even where your feet walk is a thing of beauty.

 

Dreams and desires

The wonder of lines

The joys these plants bring will be fleeting, yet their memory will linger for years to come!

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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 smartphone, 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, it 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 sounds 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 the 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 metamorphosed into an artificial mini Hydrangea Bush. Which is perhaps a more sensible option, I’m not in the slightest green-fingered folk, and even I can’t kill something that’s made of polyester and polyethylene. 

I also nipped into a supermarket just around 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 its 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 wakes like thousands of tiny mirrors. I always find rivers, just like the sea, to have a calming effect 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 of six months' 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, the 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, which 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 republish the lot. Once again, the inner workings of my mind and 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 halfway. So, let's 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 and past!  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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Yes, we're back!

(2026 Edit - This post is from the archive; it was first published on 17 December 2008 at 04:15.  Facts, feelings, and beliefs may have changed since then.)

It's been a long while since I last posted here, sorry about that, let me make it up to you and do a flying thru time update. Oh,    where do I start? There's been so much happening,  and yet so little as well, I'm completely lost at the chronological order of things, so I'll just battle on with the random thoughts of things that have come and gone since I was last bashing the keys of this old laptop! America has a new president, Mr Obama stormed ahead of Palin and the Tortoise to become the first black guy to be elected to such high office over that side of the pond. Will he do a good job? Only time will tell, but let's face it, he probably couldn't do a worse job than Bush.....can he? The economy has pretty much crashed as far as the media is concerned, and the Global Downturn Credit Crunch has well and truly shown its ugly head and is starting to snap at the heels of the normal people like you and I. Well,  actually,  it hasn't really bitten my arse too much so far; in fact, it's had the opposite effect on my life. The VAT rates come down by 2.5%, which, be honest, doesn't sound a lot, does it? But, as a certain supermarket proudly claims, "Every Little Helps!" Also, I love going to the checkout/tills,  thinking it's one price and finding out it's a little bit less. Another good thing about the global recession for me personally is that pretty much all the shops have got their January sales on now, everything seems to be 10, 20 or even 30% off, now that is a result! The only sad fact is that Woollies is no more, yep, sadly, the great discount store Woolworths has not survived the first bite of this dark economic time and gone belly up. Matt and I took a visit up to the Brighton store in Western Road, which felt more like Western Baghdad. It was without a doubt a war zone, I was scared for my life in there, caught in the cross-fire between the bunting and the pick 'n' mix! Anyway, folks, jingle, jingle, jingle all the way, Christmas is coming at such a fast rate that I'm almost knocked arse over tit. Are you ready? Have you done all your shopping? Is everything all sorted? I've done all the presents, I've got all that side of things done, but the food, well, we'll do that at the last moment, so it's nice and fresh, after all, I'm working all the way up until 8am on Christmas morn, oh,  I'm so looking forward to those sprouts and mashed roast potatoes!

Here's Matty!!!! It had been ages since the last blog post, although it really doesn’t seem like it has been such a long time. Time has really flown by since the last posting. Jason and I haven’t been up to too terribly much. We have gone out a few times to Mo’s for dinner, which was nice, and we also went to Portsmouth, which was a unique experience for me. Just last week, Mo had us over for a veggie bake before she took her winter holiday to Oz. There is just something about her cheese sauce that reminds me of home. Maybe it’s because it tastes a lot like white gravy in America, but just a little cheesier. Mo was doing fine along with everyone else in the family, and we had a lovely (Few) bottles of wine and the excellent dinner she made. 

Portsmouth was a few weeks back and was a really neat experience for me. The train ride alone was worth it all. It gave me a really great insight into how different England can be, one minute you're in the middle of a busy city and the next, you're in the middle of farm country. Jason took me to various places in the mall of Portsmouth and around and along, and eventually up the Spinica tower, which we spent most of our time on. Halfway up the tower, there is a glass panel across the floor that you can step on, and while I was treading over it almost nonstop and looking down, Jason stood quite a long way away from it, that is, until I pulled him over it and made him stand on it for at least a little bit. I can’t think of a more unique building like the Spinica tower in the States. It’s really one of a kind.

A little bit after that, Jason and I had our movie and Television series spree, where we watched a few seasons of House and went to the pier to see the starlings fly around in their flocks. They almost look like a giant ink blob that is oozing throughout the sky. Jason won me a Piglet plushie, and I got him a Danger Mouse set. I also found out that I cannot play the game Dance Dance Revolution, or Dancing Stage, for you Europeans anymore. Kind of a shock since I was #1 in America for a while online, and could handle anything really with no problem, only to find that now I tire and fail at even the easiest of stages. I guess if you don’t use it, you DO lose it. Hehe. Lately, Jason and I are having our first Christmas together, Advent calendars, Christmas trees and all. The rents have sent out the majority of the packages that I will be receiving thus far, as I only have 34 days left before I have to head all the way back to Yankeeland (Shudder)… We received a lot of cake mixes, one of which I made a few hours ago for Jason and I to enjoy before he gets home. Along with that was an unexpected birthday present, which was a game card and the expansion of World of Warcraft. Being the gamer/geek/nerd that I am, I had played that game a lot in the past and quit from boredom. However, there is plenty for me to do now, and I was surprised to find that Jason even likes to play a little bit, but if I told you he had a level 13 Blood Elf Warlock, he would probably kill me. (It’s our secret, right?)

Other than all that, nothing else much has happened. We are still just happily living life as it comes, and are happy to have each other's company while we can. I can see the nocturnal amiss closing up the gates of time that I have left here, and even though I don’t really want to think about it and refuse to most of the time, there are some times when I have to think of how I am going to handle getting a New apartment, job, etc., when I get home. It’s a lot to do for a 19-year-old (well -20 tomorrow), but I know I will be able to handle things fine as I always seem to. Don’t sweat the small stuff, just live life as it comes and smile. Other than that I have been working on a few things here and there, attempting to work on a game that I have been making for 1.5 years now which is seemingly becoming more and more unlikely that I am going to finish coding, and writing a collection of short stories that are told like campfire stories which revolve around six teenagers and shows just how fragile people are, regardless of their sexuality and skin colour. Last week, Jason and I went out to the front to get rid of some stale bread, which we threw to dozens and dozens of pigeons, and I had a little surprise of one who was so brave that he (or she) perched on my arm and ate bread right out of my hand. I am pretty sure that is the first time I ever held a bird for more than 2 seconds, and the first time one ate out of my hands. Usually, I am not so hot with animals.   On our way back, we ran into an elderly woman who asked us if we could get her some items from the co-op, which Jason and I happily did and brought them back to her. I wasn’t sure what had happened and why she was left alone, but it worried me that she wasn’t getting enough to eat, and I also wondered how many people took her money and scrammed. Hopefully, she rested with a full tummy, and everything will be alright for her. I think that we are going to check on her later on today as well, just to make sure.

Yesterday we travelled up with a massive suitecase to see the old folks, that are my parents, who, apart from bringing me into the world and are completely mad, were full of fun and happiness and filled us up with egg sandwiches. Tomorrow, Matt and I are off up to the big smoke that is London on Matt's Birthday treat. I won't say too much, as he'll be casting his eyes over this shortly, and I don't want to let the bag out of the cat! 

Matt and I often discuss the cultural differences between our two nations, but I'm proud to be British, and here are just a few reasons why. Only in Britain... can you get a pizza to your house faster than an ambulance. Only in Britain... do supermarkets make sick people walk all the way to the back of the shop to get their prescriptions, while people can buy cigarettes at the front. Only in Britain... do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a DIET coke. Only in Britain... do banks leave both doors open yet chain the pens to the counters. Only in Britain... do we leave cars worth thousands of pounds on the drive and lock our junk and cheap lawn mower in the garage. Only in Britain are disabled parking places in front of the ice skating rink. And just because it's Christmas, here are some more reasons to be proud of our country folk! 3 Brits die each year testing if a 9V battery works by placing it on their tongue. 58 Brits are injured each year by using sharp knives instead of screwdrivers. 31 Brits have died since 1996 by watering their Christmas tree while the fairy lights were plugged in. British Hospitals reported 4 broken arms last year after cracker pulling accidents. 18 Brits had serious burns in 2000 trying on a new jumper with a lit cigarette in their mouth. 5 Brits were injured last year in accidents involving out-of-control Scalextric cars. And finally.........In 2000, eight Brits cracked their skulls whilst throwing up into the toilet. More soon, my little fruit bats!!