LagJet

I haven't made up my mind as to whether I have been sitting on a plane far too long or the buildings are actually swaying.

So we have arrived. Suzuki-san, our 'carer', wears gloves when he drives, and reverses the wrong way up express-ways (a motorway) when he takes the wrong turning (which he then proceeded to tell us the obvious, 'vewy dangeros manuvor"). He also laughs a lot, a lot.

As you can tell I am having fun.

I am having a bit of bad luck with numbers at the moment: before I boarded the plane there was one of those HSBC ads which they persuade you they are the experts on multi-cultural issues (money is the universal language I suppose). The ad proceeded to tell me '4' was Japan's unlucky number, this just happens to be what my middle name sounds like in Japanese. Then I get to the apartment, which just happens to be a perfect set for a contemporary Japanese horror movie, and then I get shown the apartment. It is on the 13th floor.

In fact, the above paragraph made little interesting sense for a reason: To seamlessly link to -keeping the numerical theme - my telephone number should anyone (Mum, Dad) need to contact me: 010 81 (0)568- 29-3484.

P.S.
It's great not being able to read the labels on your food because when you buy dried noodles in a plastic container you don't think 'piece of shit pot-noodle', you actually still feel semi-sophisticated. I had an 'interesting' (completely disgusting) Korean breakfast of watery rice with tomatoey mushrooms, seaweed, and gherkins.