AM
Least: At around 9:25am I began thanking Japan for sparing me from political advertising on TV. Although the election is big news, it it restricted to the news-ish programs. The downside however, is the rash of shouting vans that smite us from all angles. Most often, the occupants are white-gloved and waving to nobody in particular in a cartoony manner. Another sign is the clutches of men strolling the streets chanting chants and carrying yellow banners. Despite these attempts though, there seems no danger of election fever. I'm yet to speak to someone who thinks that either of the big parties will make any difference.
Most: At 10:50am, Rosie and I pedalled north towards the flea market at the Shitennoji Temple. On the way we made a very brief detour to look at the Matsumushi Zuka that apparently is still shaded by an 800 year old tree. As it turns out we were travelling up part of the Kumano Road which people have been treading for over 1000 years. Amazing, but not quite as amazing as the 5th Century burial mound near our local station or the monster that used to lurk in Mandai Ike (above) until it was banished in the 6th Century. Wow.
PM
Least: At 3:58pm, an ongoing problem with our washing machine sucked the little interest that was left out of the third hour after twelve. It's been boringly misfiring since the morning when a man in billowing pants and a do-rag appeared in our window and insisted that we move the infernal machine indoors. Three days later we shifted it back to the freshly painted balcony. The washing machine was evidently unimpressed and has been slightly less than automatic ever since. One day the incessant beeping will send it over the edge and onto the tram tracks.
Most: By about 12:10pm, my neck was being seared as we strolled around the flea market at Shitennoji. The number of stalls was vast as was the range of items for sale. Some of the more notable pieces of clutter were, ivory carvings, prehistoric stone tools, dismembered samurai armour, ancient ceramics, pipes, a flintlock gun, endless tools, buttons, cooked entrails, tiny fish and unwearable clothes. I settled on a piece of rank nostalgia - a board game depicting what we called G-Force but was called 'Kagaku ninja tai Gatchaman' in Japan. It is still in its packet complete with dice. How the game is meant to be played I'll never know.
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