Going Ga Ga

I went shopping today for..a hat, sturdy trainers, a long sleeved linen shirt and a bikini. A couple of stations along the Keiyo line in Minami Finabashi is a large shopping centre called Lalaport. My flatmate and I like to call it lalaland because it really must drive even the hardened shopper doolally. I don't like shopping at the best of times and I always forget how much I dislike this particular place. It has been refurbished as well which made it even more confusing for me to find my way. I have no trouble on a bare mountain deciding which way to go and following a map but inside this place is a maze of corridors, dazzling lights and confusing signs. I looked at the maps helpfully stationed all around the whole complex to get out after frustratingly finding that I was going to have the patience to find very few of the items on my list. I must have gone round in circles. Shop after shop selling the same kinds of goods left me bewildered and even more sure of my conviction that endless shopping for the sake of it brings very little if any long-lasting pleasure. I have plenty of girl friends who would probably disagree but I just can't see the pleasure in consumerism for consumerism's sake. I have still nine days though to at least by the trainers. I hope my patience holds out!

On a brighter note..my neighbour gave me some homemade rhubarb jam and some cherries today.

The Road to Nab End

I have just finished reading "The Road to Nab End" by William Woodruff. It tells the story of the author's childhood growing up in Blackburn, Lancashire during the 1920s and 30s. Blackburn was at the time suffering the decline of the cotton weaving industry and the author's family struggled though years of crippling poverty and injustice. I really enjoyed (if that is the right word for it) the book and it made quite an impression on me. In brighter sections of the story, Woodruff describes his trips into the local scenery outside of the dirty industrial cities. Rolling hills and deserted moorlands particularly reminded me of my own visits as a child to neighboring Yorkshire. It is hard now, for me to imagine how a rare trip to Blackpool pleasure beach could have been a source of intense happiness and wonderment. I do truly take a lot for granted it seems. I have never lived in the north but reading the book made me feel a slightly romantic fondness for the area. It made me consider too how my own great-grandparents fared during these times and I feel ashamed to say that I don't even know what kind of work they did. I have only quizzed my parents on a handful of times about my ancestors but I now feel a strong desire to know more.

Better safe than sorry???

I have been having a series of jabs prior to my summer trip. Yesterday was the final round and on the cards was Hepatitis A, Rabies and Japanese Encephalitis. The doctor is very friendly and also likes to speak English and when it comes to medical Japanese, well...er.. I am happy for him to do the talking. I roll up the sleeve of my T-shirt... One down, two more to go. As he is about to stick the second needle in he tells me it is the rabies one.. Out of curiosity I ask what the first was. He looks at the sticker now attached to my vaccination record sheet and his face was a picture. Oh 'Sh.....ugar'. I feared the worst. That was Hep B, the nurse made a mistake when preparing the needles! "And the doctor an even bigger mistake not checking" I muttered to myself. I could take action I suppose if I had the mind to, but it's not my style and besides, there is no harm done. The standard procedure for Hep B vaccinations here is three shots. I am no doctor but I was good at maths once - so does that mean I am a third protected against Hep B?