Hamtaro

It's been quite a while since my last post. I would like to update my blog once a week, but I know if I make that my goal it'll just turn into a chore and I'll feel pressured to do it. So I'll just say I aim to update more often.

It's over two weeks since I got back to Japan, and I can already feel myself sinking back into the same old work-then-sleep-then-go-to-work-again mode. I just feel like I am doing nothing but work (which I suppose is exactly what I am doing) and when I get home from work I don't have the energy to do anything else. On the weekends I force myself to go out and meet people, but to tell the truth, I really only have the energy to be at home or by myself. Maybe it's just old age creeping up on me.

Hamtaro died on Friday. I came home from work to find him cold and dead on the bottom of his cage. In life he was such a robust little chap - the vet said he was the biggest hamster he had ever seen - but in death he shriveled up to almost nothing. The worst thing was that by the time I found him his big, beautiful eyes were already shriveled into his head and the flies were on him. It upsets me that I wasn't here when he died, that he died alone. I feel that I failed him. I buried him under the azalea bush in front of the office across the road. I can sit down there and talk to him when I go out to speak on my mobile phone at night. For over a year he was my best friend. I get a lump in my throat when I think about him.

I already have two more. I bought them pretty quickly - some might think with indecent haste. The truth is that I had to buy something to put in that empty cage. After Hamtaro died and I cleaned it out, the cage just sat there like an open grave and I couldn't stand looking at it. I covered it over with a cloth, but that just made it more sinister. I couldn't throw Hamtaro's cage away, so I ended up buying the two hamsters to put in it. They are sisters - Pearl Winter White Russians, which means they are almost pure white with dark ears and a dark dorsal stripe down the back. One has a darker stripe than the other and that is how I can tell them apart. The darker one is also energetic and runs around like she is on speed, so I call her Speedy. The other is more like me - she sleeps most of the day and just emerges for food. I've called her Snowy (although my friend suggested that "Slowy" might be more appropriate, as she seems to be one nut short of a fruit bar). It was hard the first day, seeing them in Hamtaro's tank, eating his food and playing on his wheel. I felt a bit resentful, but I'm slowly getting used to them. They can't have his special dish, though. The one I fed him his vegetables in. That was just for him, and now it is on my bookshelf over my desk.

I've been watching Alan Rickman films recently. I liked his stuff the first time he was really popular about 20 years ago and now I've been watching the films he made since then. The best ones I've seen so far are "Sense and Sensibility" and "Perfume". The worst was "Nobel Son", which I recommend you not to touch with a barge pole. I really want to see "Snowcake", which has Sigourey Weaver as a woman with Autism. In the clips it looks pretty good.

I am reading "The Help", which was given to me by my friend Barbara. It's very good. I'm not even halfway through yet, but I am already nervous about what might happen to the characters in it when people find out what is going on.

Too tired to write any more tonight. Falling asleep at the keyboard. Time for bed.

Bakewell, Derbyshire

Another lovely place to visit if ever you are in Derbyshire is the small market town of Bakewell. This is the Derbyshire Dales area of the Peak District National Park and is famous for three types of cakes: the Bakewell Pudding, the Bakewell Tart and the Bakewell Cake (AKA Cherry Bakewell). The tart is the most famous by name, and consists of shortcrust pastry with a layer of jam and frangipane on top, but what most people think of as Bakewell Tart is actually a Bakewell Cake, which is much the same as the tart, but with a layer of icing and a glace cherry on top. The Bakewell Pudding is supposed to be the most traditional of the three, and is certainly the ugliest. It is made of puff pastry spread with a layer of jam and then a mixture of eggs, almonds, butter and sugar. It looks like a big, blobby brown jam tart, or a very badly made pizza. Don't let the appearance put you off - it is lovely with a cup of tea.

If you walk around the town, you will see various different shops all claiming to be the originators of one or other of these types of cake.

The town itself is very pleasant to walk around, as it has many old fashioned stone houses and shops. There is also a nice walk along the river Wye, where you can feed the ducks, geese, moorhens and trout and see the five-arched 13th Century stone bridge.

Hardwick Hall, Derbyshire

I'm posting from the UK. I arrived on the 8th of August and have had a very busy time over the last ten days. Mostly, I've been doing things for mum and dad - things that they find hard to do in their advanced years, like hack down the undergrowth in the back garden and programme digital TVs. However, I have managed to get out and about a few times, though this year it has all been inside Derbyshire, as I haven't had the time (or to be honest, the energy) to venture further afield.

One of the lovely places I have been to this time is Hardwick Hall, which was built by the legendary Bess of Hardwick. I'm not going to give her complete bio here (you can check it on Wikipedia), suffice to say that she is one of Derbyshire's most famous figures - a 4-times married contemporary of Elizabeth I, who was famed for building houses and being fabulously rich at a time when women were generally not powerful. Visiting the old and new halls at Hardwick is a fine day out for anyone. The new hall is beautifully decorated with the largest collection of tapestries held by a private family in the UK. The old hall (which is actually only three years older than the new hall) is now just a shell of masonary, but you can climb up to the top for spectacular views of the Peak District countryside. I suffer from vertigo, but I managed it! Anyway, once again, the pictures will tell the story.

Holiday, Night Walk, New Fan, New Books and Bless Young Amy Winehouse

It's only two weeks now till I go on holiday to the UK. Last week I was overcome with exhaustion just thinking about it traveling all that way and the 26-hour trip, but this week i am suddenly all excited and raring to go. What has caused the change of heart I don't know, but hurray anyway!

I don't have much to do before I go. As usual, I am going to take hand luggage only. I hate traveling with loads of stuff - just a pair of jeans and a couple of T-shirts will do me and then I can go and buy my yearly supply of clothes in Marks and Sparks when I get over there. If I travel light, it also makes it far easier to get the early National Express coach from the bus station at Heathrow, because I don't have to wait for ages for the luggage to come off the rotunda. That's if it gets to the rotunda at all. I stopped stowing luggage about ten years ago, when my suitcase ended up in Denmark. Bloody Paris baggage handlers.

Yesterday I went to get my travel insurance. As usual, the bloke in the local HIS left the new recruit to deal with me. I can't read the insurance forms so well, so the young guy explained them to me in Japanese and asked me questions. Some of the questions were so stupid that we both ended up giggling. was I planning to go bungee jumping? No. hang gliding? No again. Sky Diving? No. Was I planning on a trip to Cuba? Yes, I said. I'm having tea with Fidel. I laughed at my own joke, but he didn't as he didn't know who Castro was. Oh well. I had a laugh anyway.

I went out for a late-night walk last night. You can see the pictures on this page. It was very pleasant in the gardens in front of the Imperial guest house. There were more people about than I'd expected - taxi drivers catching 40 winks, courting couples and a man with a banjo. I took a few pictures on long exposure to see what came out. Some of them produced quite a nice effect. Mysterious. Gothic even. I like walking around my neighbourhood at night. It's not something you could do in my hometown, especially not with an expensive-looking camera. You might as well just stand in the shopping centre with a sign saying "Steal my Nikon then stab me."

The weather has been quite nice and cool since last week's typhoon. I have also been using the lovely fan that hubby bought me as a very practical wedding anniversary present. It stands two feet high and gently blasts me with silent air. :D

I bought a few books today. I have been treating myself recently - buying books, buying nice food, spending money! I hum that little tune "Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think. Enjoy yourself while you're still in the pink." Today I bought "To Kill a Mockingbird" and "Three Men in a Boat." Both classics. I also bought " Animal Dreams" by Barbara Kingsolver. Not a classic yet, but it may well be. I have just finished reading her "Poisonwood Bible" and thought it was magnificent. I have a couple more Hemingway stories to finish in the book of his collected works and then I will make a start on the Jerome K. Jerome. I am planning on saving the Kingsolver for my journey to the UK. :D

Last but by no means least, like so many people I have been deeply saddened by poor Amy Winehouse's death. I wasn't surprised, but I was shocked nevertheless. She had managed to stagger her way through the last five years and I'd just hoped that she would continue surviving until she finally made it out the other side into a happier life. Sadly that wasn't to be. I've read a few preachy statements from people going on about the dangers of drugs. We don't need to hear that. We've all had a ringside seat these last five years watching the poor woman wrestling with her drink and drug demons; we have seen it all happen in front of our eyes courtesy of Fleet Street. We don't need anyone to tell us about that. People have been going on about the sad waste of talent, but at the end of the day, her singing was just a job. I am more saddened by the sad waste of a young life. RIP Amy. We will keep playing your records and remembering how you were funnier than all the so-called comedians put together on "Never Mind the Buzzcocks".

Anyway, best get a reasonably early night for the first time in ages... yawn... night all :)

Day Trip to Kamakura

It's been a while since my last post. It's extremely hot and sticky here in Tokyo. Generally I am enjoying the heat, as my winter aches and pains have vanished, but some days the heat saps the energy even from me. Today has been one of those days. I got up late, managed to clean my room and listen to a bit of Radio 4, but then had to have a 4-hour nap. I remember a time years ago when life was quieter and I didn't feel like I ought to pack every waking moment with productive action. In those days, it was fine to get up late and then spend the rest of the day lying on my bed, listening to my records, or reading a book. Recently I have wanted more and more to go back to those old days, when we had a nine-to-five productivity expectation and weren't expected to be up until 2 in the morning shopping on eBay. So with that in mind, I am not going to feel guilty about doing sod all today.

Yesterday was busy for me. I went off on a long overdue adventure. I decided I couldn't face yet another weekend in the air conditioned dullness of central Tokyo, so I got on a train to the seaside. If in doubt, head to Kamakura. That has been my motto for the past 18 years, and I have probably been there at least the same number of times. I had been considering Zushi (where I've never been) but Kamakura won in the end.

I made sure not to get there too early, as the place is a heat trap and I have fried there in the lunchtimes of past years. When the train pulled into the station at around 1:45, I made straight for the beach, stopping off at Kua-Aina Hawaiian burger restaurant on the way to partake of Japan's best and most expensive cheese sandwich (over 700 yen, Daylight robbery). But it was worth it. I then walked the rest of the way down the main street, through a small group of gang bikers revving their engines and trying to look hard, and onto the beach.

This year was the first year I have seen "Beware of the hawks" signs on the sea front. I remember that when I went to Enoshima a couple of years back, the hawks were very evident on the beach, riding the thermals and occasionally swooping down to harass some poor picnicker into parting with their lunch. Well, yesterday I saw dozens of hawks floating on the hot air up and down the beach. I didn't see them attack anyone, but I did see a dozen or so crows come down on the sand behind a woman and then chase her. She didn't even have any food - she was just sitting there in her bikini on her rubber ring minding her own business when they all ganged up on her. They seemed to be doing it more for devilment than anything else.

There was a lovely sea breeze and I walked away from the main area of beach activity to the western end of the sands. I wanted to get away from the sprawl of beach umbrellas around the central beach party stage, where they were pumping out unidentifiable music too loudly for my liking. Eventually I found a comfortable spot in the shade of a small fishing boat, the "Shinmaru", spread my shirt out and lay on it. I stayed there for three hours and just switched off. I think that was the first time since I was in England last summer that I didn't have to "do" something. Time to myself to just relax and not have to talk to anyone, think about anything or be anywhere. A very rare luxury.

When the sun started to go down, I got up, packed up, and then went down for a paddle in the sea. It wasn't as dirty as it has been in past visits. I only saw minimal amounts of plastic and other trash floating around. I also found a very nice stone for my interesting stone collection (god I am so dull). This one is a pale grey soft stone in a nice, satisfying oval the size of the palm of my hand and covered with a pleasing arrangement of little holes. It's now on the bathroom windowsill.

It took me a while to get all the sand off my feet and my trainers back on and then I headed back up the main street. I didn't want to get the train straight away, so I walked up the quiet side of the street and ended up in a rather unique kaiten zushi (belt sushi) restaurant. I had to take a ticket and wait about 30 minutes to get a seat at the counter. It had all the traditional sushi, but much more besides. I had raw spring rolls, eel, fried shrimps, salmon, miso soup and some honey-covered sweet potato. It was a bit pricey (1,888 yen for six plates) but I enjoyed myself.

When I came out of the sushi shop, it was dark. I decided to go for a stroll up to Tsurogawoka Hachimangu shrine at the end of the main street. There were surprisingly few people about (I guess Kamakura is essentially a place to be while the sun is out) and I made my way down the central avenue without meeting more than a couple of people. I took a few photos of the street and the shrine on long exposure to see what sort of effect I would get. A few of them came out okay - dark and moody.

Anyway, that was my day in Kamakura. I am now lobster pink. Summer isn't summer until you have got sunburn :)

Hendon and RIP Peter Falk

Peter Falk has passed on. I am one of the millions of fans of Columbo, the crumpled cop. During my third year at UCL, I lived in a house in Hendon with flat mates Ron, Seb, Steve and Tracy. Saturday night was Columbo night. We used to watch it on the TV in Steve's room, surrounded by his wall montage of empty cigarette packets and posters of "Penis Landscape". (This was in the years before he became a millionaire Internet porn baron. Steve, I mean, not Peter Falk).

I remember Ron being the biggest fan. He would always chuckle evilly when Columbo paused at the door of the murderer's house to say he had "Just one more thing..."

That house in Hendon was weird. I remember that there was a two-inch gap between the skirting board and the bottom of the wall on the rear side. When my dad, a builder, came to move me out after a year of living there, he told me the foundations had shifted and the place should be condemned as it could fall down at any time. We spent a crazy year in that house. I have many memories. My room on the ground floor next to the kitchen. I covered one wall with black bin liners for a "gothic" look. I used to play Kate Bush, Abba and Hawkwind and read books about Aleister Crowely. (By coincidence, a couple of years later, I was working with his grand niece at the Museum of London). I was a devotee of the Granada Sherlock Holmes TV series and twice went to see the stage version with Jeremy Brett and Edward Hardwicke. I was into bead craft and made long stringy necklaces from glass beads from a shop in Covent Garden. I was wearing one of them on one of the nights I went to see the Holmes play and I remember watching in dismay as the thread snapped and all my beads went bouncing off and away under the street lamps and into the night.

The street we lived in connected to the North Circular and had a large Jewish community. One day, I noticed that there was an unusually large number of wig shops in the vicinity. My friend informed me that a lot of Jewish ladies wore wigs. I started looking out for them and almost immediately noticed the lady across the road. How I hadn't noticed before puzzled me, as her wig was made for someone with a head much bigger, so that the front of it met with her eyebrows. It would always be at least a little askew, depending on what, I don't know. Maybe depending on the wind or how much she had been rushing about.

But anyway, going back to Peter Falk, I never realised he was also an artist, and a good one at that. I have been looking through his charcoal sketches and they show he had real talent. Google and check them out for yourself. Until then, here is Columbo roasting Frank Sinatra:

31 Degrees, No Air Con, Caveman Diet and radio 4

Tokyo is 31 degrees today and the humidity is 65%. Am I the only person who is enjoying the sauna? I love it. All the aches and pains I suffered through winter are gone! No aching back, chest, shoulder, foot, knee, elbow, wrist or guts. In winter I feel like I have been crushed by a ten-tonne truck, so thank god for the warm weather.

Talking of the weather, it seems that a lot of places are going to be sweltering this summer because of the power shortage after the earthquake. Numerous places are restricting their air conditioning temperature to 28 degrees or else have no air con at all. I've been warned that a university I am going to lecture at for 3 days next week may have no air con and so I should "dress lightly or casually". Not sure what they mean by that. Light suit? Bikini? Event halls are offering 10% discounts to people who book their rooms for functions because they will also have to set the air con at 28 degrees with no exceptions. Some places are just shutting up shop completely and forcing people to take all their paid holidays during August.

My healthy eating habits are still going strong. I'm finding it surprisingly easy to stick to what Tom Jones calls the "Caveman Diet" - all or nearly all - raw , unprocessed food. Lots of salad, raw fish, fruit and simple cooked food like boiled rice. The weight is dropping off me but I don't feel hungry because I am still eating a lot volume-wise, but not calorie-wise. All those plant fibers really fill you up. My method is to eat my meal then fill up any space by stuffing in as many bananas as possible and it works. My clothes now feel baggy and annoying instead of tight and annoying, but I still can't fit into my old jeans. I think they must have shrunk four sizes at least whilst they have been lying in the cupboards. Either that or all my remaining body fat has rallied in my arse regions for solidarity and a final stand.

However, there is one down side to the fat receding - once it's gone, you see what you have underneath it. It's rather like the tide going out and revealing all those old rusty shopping trolleys people have thrown into the harbour. Once the fat is gone you start feeling other things. Things that dangle. Things that wobble. Odd shapes and bumps. You think, "Oh my god... what is THAT?!" and after convincing yourself that you have some terminal disease you finally realise that it's just what used to be firm sagging like a piece of old knicker elastic. My latest discovery is a horrible big vein in my armpit. It's probably been their for ages under all the fat, but now it is liberated from lard it is free to dangle.

I have just discovered Radio 4. I can't believe I have never listened to it before. It is so interesting and informative. I've been listening to "Gardeners' Question Time", documentaries, and that quiz show with Nicholas Parsons (He's still alive. Well done, mate). I'm going off now to have a bath, have my tea and listen to the afternoon play. Life doesn't get more exciting than this.

Meiji Shine Iris Garden and Hakusan Hydrangea Festival

Yesterday I went to the iris garden in the grounds of the Meiji Shrine. I have lived in Tokyo for 18 years, but until yesterday I didn't know the garden existed. Speaking to a couple of my Japanese friends who are also keen flower photographers, I was surprised to find out that they hadn't heard about it either; it seems to be a well-kept secret. At the entrance you will be asked by one of the multi-lingual staff if you want to see just the iris garden or the iris garden and "the well". If you want to see both, not only do you have to pay extra, you have to go in by a different gate and see the well first, then visit the iris garden afterwards. To make sure people obey this rule and don't sneak in to see the well without paying, they even have a security guard stationed on the path that joins the two to check people's tickets! This led me to think that that must be some exciting well for them to go to the trouble and expense of charging extra, creating a special rule, a special route and employing a security guard. I didn't go and see the well this time, but next time I think I should just to see what all the fuss is about.

Mosquito Hell

Security guard checking people aren't sneaking in to see the well without a ticket

Once I got into the garden, I quickly made my way to the iris pond area. It is only a small part of the Meiji Shrine Inner Garden, but the rest of the garden is a mosquito heaven with dense clumps of ancient trees and large, still pools of water, and I didn't want to hang around in that part for any longer than necessary. Even so, I got quite a few bites anyway. The iris garden itself is long and thin and curves back and forth for a couple of hundred meters between the towering, dense foliage on either side. I have to say that it is quite spectacular - a huge splash of deep green, white and various shades of pink and purple. There was a decent turnout of people, but not half as many as I had expected in such a central tourist location on a sunday afternoon in peak season. It was quite comfortable to go around. The irises were beautiful. I'll just let the pictures of them speak for themselves.

The highlight of the visit was probably listening to the gardener at the end of the garden. He appeared from nowhere in a wide straw hat and wellies, climbed into the water with the irises and proceeded to answers questions from the iris buffs. What fascinated me about him was his tool belt hung with everything he needed including a special tin containing a burning coil of Katori Senko mosquito repellant.  I should have asked him where he bought it, because that would be a very useful fashion accessory.

The Gardener

I spent two hours at the iris garden and then, as it was still only 3 o'clock, I decided to try my luck at the hydrangea festival at Hakusan Shrine, which was about 40 minutes away by train. To get there, I had to change at Sugamo Station. I used to work in Sugamo about 5 or 6 years ago, and so yesterday, out of curiosity, I popped out of the station and walked up and down the main street for old time's sake. I remembered the station and some older parts of the high street shopping arcade, but as for the building my former company was in, I could only remember the rough location. It was somewhere near what is today a mobile phone shop and a cafe. My memory isn't what it used to be.

By the time  finally got to Hakusan, I was starting to wonder if I had made the right decision. I was exhausted and climbing eight flights of steps to get to ground level, I thought I was going t have a heart attack. I had to go and have  Freshness Burger and glass of grapefruit juice to perk me up enough to go to the festival.  By the time I got there, the festival was over (even though it was not even 4 o'clock), but the hydrangeas weren't going anywhere, so I took photos of them for about an hour, then went home. All in all, it was a very satisfying day, and I got plenty of fresh air and exercise, as well as 500-plus flower photos. I haven't started on the Hakusan hydrangea pictures yet, but I can put up plenty of the iris photos as I have uploaded them already.

Weird Painters, Course Planning, Andrew Wyeth, and Lilies.

Well, the creeping painters have crept away and gone. It's all very puzzling. The landlord told us that the building would be completely spruced up over a 2-week period, but all that seems to have happened is that some guys came in for a few days, painted the BACK of the building with some kind of toxic substance that had both hubby and I coughing till out throats were raw, then left again. The whole building needs repainting, but they just painted the back wall, which no one can see because it is two meters away from the back wall of the building next door. Even the people next door can't see it, because there are no windows on that side of their building! I think it must all have been some kind of tax dodge. Maybe the toothless 85-year-old who was struggling with the scaffolding is my landlord's brother or something.

I am super-busy at the minute designing IELTS courses for some universities. Then when they are finished, I go out and teach them. There just aren't enough hours in the day. I have been up till the early hours tonight scanning textbooks and mailing the scans to my office email so that I can work on them tomorrow. I am absolutely knackered.

Not content with buying an exciting, life-changing book on lighthouses last week, I bought another tome on Monday - this one is an illustrated autobiography of one of my favourite artists, Andrew Wyeth. I like him. He is dull like me. He paints pictures of drystone walls and buckets. I love his stuff. The pictures relax me. I can stare at them for hours, perhaps because there is absolutely nothing happening in any of them, so you find yourself just sitting there waiting. Quite like my life, actually. That sums me up in a nutshell. The waiting woman. Like waiting for Godot. Oh no, there I go rambling again.

I had a pleasant Sunday at the lily festival at Yasukuni Shrine. That's the place everyone is always complaining about because it enshrines class A war criminals. Well, I just went there to look at the irises which were arranged in pots around two old blokes in a shed. I took lots of pictures (naturally). An elderly lady, who was arranging the pots, came over and told me that the flower I was taking pictures of at that time was very rare - the "Eagle's Talon" lily. And when I looked at it, it really did look like an eagle's talon, as you can see:

Well, that's about it. You've been lucky so far. I haven't quoted anything from my lighthouse book. Maybe next time...

A Healthy Dinner and the Creeping Painters

I've been on a healthy diet the last month or so. I stopped eating rubbish and started on an intake of mainly salads, fresh fruit and fish. I find eating huge salads fills me up (it's all that roughage) and also makes me feel very energetic, so I don't feel hungry at all, even though my calorie intake is a lot less than usual. So far, so good. I can feel the fat dropping off; I feel lighter and a lot healthier. I can climb stairs without gasping for breath and I sleep pretty well too. Here is what I had for my tea last night:

I mentioned in yesterday's blog the mystery of the vanished painters. Well, this morning, I got up at my usual time of 10a.m. (remember I work the late shift. I am not lazy!) and drew my curtains to find the window covered with plastic and tape on the outside. The painters have been back! This completely creeped me out, because that window is literally one foot from my head when I am sleeping. They must have come back at the crack of dawn this morning, but I had not heard them, not one single sound, even though they must have been within inches of my head! Opening the curtains and seeing that tape on the window felt like unzipping the tent in "Blair Witch" to find piles of stones outside...

Work was AGH today. I am not even going to talk about it. Instead, I am going to read some of my book on lighthouses and imagine I am at the top of a tower, hundreds of miles from anyone else, with not a soul to bother me...

(NB: This post is actually from May 17th. It disappeared the day after I posted it and has somehow just reappeared at the top of my blog. Where has it been? Why did it return? Technobollox!)

I had almost finished typing this blog when the whole bloody thing disappeared. Firefox has been crashing regularly recently. I don't know if it is them or my computer, but I do know it pisses me off severely. I'm going to write this up in Textedit and then cut and paste.



The weather here has been gloomy and wet all day. It seems that once again early spring has dribbled straight into the rainy season. They say it will be a hot summer and most people seem terrified of the prospect of no air conditioning because of the power shortage. It doesn't phase me. In fact, my health is always better in the heat. Since I've got older, winter chills cripple me with pain, so the humidity in summer comes as a welcome relief, even if it does smother my bronchitis. I always sleep much better in the heat too, so bring it on.



I was watching the reports on Lorca and the devastation caused by yesterday's earthquake. Looking at all those broken houses and piles of bricks, I was shocked to learn the quake had only been a 5.2. This puts Japanese building safety into perspective; the quake in Tokyo apparently scored a high five on the Richter scale, so higher than that in Spain, but none of our buildings collapsed. For almost 20 years, I have hated this apartment, hated its gray, concrete walls, its wire-crossed frosted glass and its total lack of attraction. Now I say thank god for steel reinforced concrete! Long may it reign! That two-and-a-half minute high-five tremour made this place dance so much that it threw the fridge into the genkan, but the building survived without a single crack. I'll never complain about living in a bunker again.



I've started watching Russell Crowe and Ridley Scott's latest collaboration, "Robin Hood" (or "Robin Hodd" as hubby wrote on the DVD). I've only watched the first 15 minutes, but it seems to be "Gladiator" in a different uniform. It's dark, it's dreary and Russell's Nottingham accent sounds like Ringo Starr drowning in mud. I don't think I am going to be watching this one to the end. To be honest, I only watched Gladiator because it was two hours of Russell Crowe in a mini skirt.