Riding today was like floating through the heavens at times, reminding me of one of my favorite songs by the world’s greatest rock band: The Rolling Stones‘ Get off My Cloud. I’d have loved to have been able to keep the scene for myself as I rode through the mists along the Tama River, sometimes staying above the clouds as I rode along the levy. Thoughts were a bit too cloudy for my liking, too, as I go through another character-building, growth stage, I guess. Wasn’t a great start to the day. Struggled to sleep again, as I have for…
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With only mildly sincere apologies to perhaps the ultimate bogan band, Cold Chisel, this morning’s rising sun just stole my heart away. Although Jimmy Barnes and the Chisels had their girl stolen, I had mistakenly believed it was their heart. But the title was too good to throw away, so I had to tie them into this in some way. It’s been a somewhat lousy week, mainly because I have been flat out and it has stopped me from riding regularly. Mrs. Kangaeroo was on night shift last night. As always when alone, sleep didn’t come easily. I got to…
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Australia doesn’t really occupy a prime place in the mind of most Japanese people’s eyes, and the same goes for Australian cuisine. But for a short while, meat pies here were, well, the flavor of the month. オーストラリアは、多くの日本人の目から見ると、あまり重要な位置を占めておらず、オーストラリア料理も同様であった。しかし、一時期、ミートパイが流行ったことがありました。 Meat pies are, of course, probably the Australian national dish, or at least an iconic item on the everyday Aussie menu. ミートパイはもちろん、オーストラリアの国民食、あるいはオージーの日常的なメニューの象徴的な存在でしょう。 They’ve been pretty hard to come by down through the years, though. My first memory of Aussie pies in Japan came from watching a World of Sport segment on Channel 7 in the 1980s which showed Four ‘N Twenty pies…
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Everlasting daisies have become the first plants I’ve potted after starting to grow them from seed. I planted the seeds in humidity pods on February 19. They germinated in a flash, with buds clearly visible within a week. They were starting to grow too big for the pods, so I decided to move to the next stage of the challenge to grow Aussie plants, which was transplanting in larger pots. I had 15 pods of everlasting seedlings to transfer, so I prepared the bigger pots for them using the recyclable pots I bought from the local Daiso. I filled the…
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For the past few years, I’ve been very fortunate to live adjacent to (and, more recently, nearby) a satoyama, a little strip of near-wilderness amid the hustle and bustle of suburban and metropolitan areas. Tokyo is the world’s largest city and it is densely populated. Much of the city is industrialized, but frequently there are little havens of almost untamed natural woodland or small-lot farms. I used to go for walks in the farmland near our previous home and loved the serenity. I could walk through pristine forests just a couple of minutes’ drive from bustling highways and densely packed…
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It’s officially Wattle Day in Japan today, and I’m absolutely delighted to have a thriving wattle growing in our garden. I guess a little explanation is necessary. March 8 is Mimosa no Hi, literally, the Day of Silver Wattle. The flowers mark International Women’s Day, and the idea of giving women silver wattle (called mimosa outside of their native Australia) emanated from an Italian communist politician in the 1940s because the beautiful yellow flowers were more readily available than other floral items frequently presented to women around the world at the time. It’s not a national holiday in Japan, and…
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This morning was an absolute ripper, with a fantastic full moon setting on the ride upstream and the rising sun resplendent in its glory as it came up over the Tama River when heading downstream. In-between, mists formed over the river, making it feel like I was cycling above the clouds at times. It was truly breathtaking, yet again. The day was also reasonably pleasant, cool rather than cold. It was truly a morning to savor. Of course, things are never that easy. I woke in the middle of the night, full of anxiety and fear yet again. I’m in…
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Despite the best intentions, the weekend was a bit of a write-off, and apart from a brief interlude with an old mate to tell each other bawdy tales about breaking wind, the rest of the time was more about flat than flatulence. My mate, an 83-year-old American, and I have been friends for decades, the first half of our friendship being spent working together. We have often shared jokes about farts and farting and inspired each other to buy fart machines. In my wayward youth, I once propped a blow-up love doll in our boss’s seat with a remote-controlled fart…
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During a brief visit to Australia last year, after a separation of about 40 years I got to meet a schoolmate who I had greatly admired as a teen-ager, and he referred to me as someone “who always was a gentle soul.” It was one of the, if not the, nicest things anyone has ever said about me, in my opinion. Having something like that said about you would likely impress most, and I was deeply moved. It touched me enough that I remember it now, months later, when I struggle to recall anything that has happened just hours earlier.…