The Problem With Terry

AM

Least: By about 9:48am, I was crawling through multiple TV channels in an attempt to escape Terry Ito. The problem with Terry is that he seems to be always on television. His shows are universally long and numerous -he haunts the TV for about 60 hours a month. His role seems to be to offer a sliver of class to otherwise utterly vacuous programs. He occasionally smirks and is the butt of friendly and carefully managed ribbing. He his a producer, commentator, actor and wit. Terry can be identified by his trademark candy-cane suit and hat, or when he is chillaxing, in his casual man-of-the-weekend gear. Recently his image was carefully crafted into a splat ball. Today, he did nothing of interest. I burnt my last two slices of bread.

Most: Pretty close to 8:30am, as we were watering Rosie's balcony garden, I was struck by the speed of its growth. The basil, rosemary, sage, fern, nasturtium, chilli, creeper and carrot lawn seem be growing without suffering from the numerous assaults from insects and extreme weather as experienced in Australia. The clutter from the seasons is growing at speed too - flapping fish from Spring and the tinkling bells from Summer. The hills surrounding Osaka are impenetrable with growth and power line towers and the rice paddies are greener than green. It will be interesting to see what we can grow in winter and to find out about the next item of cultural clutter.

PM

Least: Upon my return to Tezukayama at approximately 1:10pm, I discovered that the sheets that I had hung out to dry were still damp. The humidity seemed to have won the battle over heat. During the day I could see the downpours punishing the mountains toward Nara, but all we got was a blast of incredibly soupy air. That the town was built on a swamp probably doesn't help.

Most: At 12:20pm, the gentleman sitting next to me at the 'Kaiten-Zushi' took a plate carrying two raw prawns in their entirety. Normally this would not pique my interest in the slightest, but he then began sucking every last molecule of entrails from the crustacean's head. Not satisfied with mere suction, he tore open the exoskeleton and began licking. Satisfied he had been victorious, he then ate the less interesting parts of the prawns. There's no accounting for taste or a sense of one's safety. That plate cost 120yen - what else it may have cost him we will never know.