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!
