The Tank and the Tricycle

AM

Least: At about 9:00am, I made the fightening discovery that I was nearly out of coffee. My morning challenge was to make an effective brew with less than the permitted amound of ground coffee to make a decent cup. With my mind filled with ratios and various brewing-time scenarios, I poured the recently boiled water into the plunger. Given that the coffee amount was at critically low levels, I allowed for a longer than usual brew. Despite my pseudo-scientific efforts, the results were not impressive. I ended up drinking an unacceptably weak coffee at low tide. My lesson is to keep a reserve tin of UCC coffee in case of emergency. At least if I ever die of coffee withdrawal I can be interred in their shrine at Koya San (above).


Most: Sometime close to 7:30am, I woke in the middle of a strange dream that work had infiltrated. I was roaming around a lush and large campus looking for my class. The place where my class was supposed to be had been overwhelmed by drunken college types who reluctantly moved away after being shouted at. Strangely, the breakthough moment came when I saw a battered battle tank driving up some stairs, dropping metal as it ploughed through the concrete. As it turned out, the tank driver was a student's mother arriving to pick her up. It seemed that driving tanks on errands had become something of a trend to show off your battle scars. I never found the class and now I sit bemused that my most interesting moment was in my sleeping hours.

PM

Least: Between 12:10pm and 12:30pm, I discovered that railway employees shared some common and boring features the world over. After going to the 'travelling today' desk to buy shinkansen tickets and refused service, Rosie and I entered the dreadfully long 'travelling in a few days' queue. The number of very old and tight people in the line didn't help, but the staff were moving as slowly as any of the single finger typists at the Flinders' Street V-Line office. Each transaction took far too many minutes and the clerks repeated every step more than enough times. Twenty minutes later we finally got our tickets to Shin-Yokohama I hope the wait was worth it.

Most: At nearly 5:00pm, I was staring aghast at an ancient man riding a tricycle (see file photo right) in Life supermarket. The old man was a sorry sight with an oxygen tank in his trike tray and tubes up his nose. Although he was carrying a massive walking frame, the tricyclist thought that the fastest way to the booze section was on wheels. Upon detecting the trike, the staff quickly stopped the offender in his tracks and assisted him in parking his vehicle outside like everyone else. By the look on the faces of the staff they knew this man well. I'm sure he'll be back attempting the same wild ride to the booze pile next week.

Feeding an Aching Head

AM

Least: This morning at about 8:20am I awoke from an apparently fitful sleep with an unfair headache delivered to me by a few glasses of white wine. If I had to go to work in this condition I might be considered a hard worker.

Most: Between about 10:20am and 10:40am I read a long piece in the LRB on the letters of Marcus Aurelius. What made the reading interesting was the fact that 80 of his letters were discovered in the early 19th Century hiding on reused parchments from the First Church Council in the AD451. The article reminded me that the process of collating and interpreting text puts a great distance between what we read and the author's original intention. Good brain food.

PM

Least: At about 1:50pm I rolled to the Kohyo supermarket in search of quality coffee only to find the shelves of overpriced Lavazza empty. I was forced to experiment with a tin of UCC Original Blend. The experiment was a partial success. It's minerally flavour and corporate logo recalled my visit to the UCC shrine up in Koya San (right).

Most: Soon after 5:30pm, Rosie and I began riding our bikes toward Daikokucho and a meeting with friends for a meal. On the way we stumbled across some kinda summer festival in Tamade. Apart from the important cultural rituals were stall after stall of kids games, goldfish, chickens, tortoises, booze and yakitori. A few people were really drunk and a few people won insignificant toys by shooting airguns. It was relaxing to mingle with other people relaxing. Our meal was great but we missed Birushanah.