Blow-outs are the new black

Tuesday I met Ito for a bizarre, badminton-centred date.　I hadn`t realised this when we made the arrangement and considering he was 10 minutes late, I wish I had so I could have got the huff. Anything goes for a date here, something I ought to be more careful of.

I had thought he would guide me through a sports shop to buy a sensibly-priced, semi-professional racket and then lead me to a public court. Instead, we picked up a kiddies` play set at Loft and had a knock-about in the park. It was good fun and remarkably good exercise (I still ache a tiny bit), but even my poorest display was vastly superior to Ito`s and I had to try to restrain myself from attempting to score a point; something you have to be fairly good to manage. It was painful watching a fat old man losing badly when trying desperately to impress. As we parted, I gave him a misguided goodbye hug and he held me too tight, so I had to wrench myself free. I have still not replied to his `I have so much fun when I am with you` message. Something many people will consider heartless, but something I see as showing the success of my assimilation. Blow-outs are not done here.

After that, I met my favourite, now ex-student, Takashi-san for a bit of Asian food. I over-ordered substantially but packed it all away anyway. After two small beers, he had loosened up enough to ask if there was a special word for girls like Lara. Lara is a JET he has chastely courted for the past couple of months and who he chickened out of `fessing up to on a recent over-night ski trip, thereby pushing her into the arms of a half-Australian English teacher (unless you go native, you really do have to scrape the bottom of the boy-barrel out here). I wanted to suggest `disappointed`, but I know Takashi-san would have been gutted to have to imagine their romance was dashed because of his inaction. Instead, he had a brief lesson on how `pricktease` and `leading on` were not entirely appropriate for the situation.

Wednesday I went to my Japanese class, then had a frantic afternoon trying to find suitable underwear for next week`s lesson. No handsome new students have joined, but we get to wear kimonos and our teachers help us dress, so I expect to be on display. I hope it is only one-to-one and not the whole class as one of my fellow students, Sarah, can`t help but say hideously offensive things (as is often the case here, it seems - so many people seem to have arrived because England won`t have them) and I can`t bear the idea of her passing loud, public comment on my attire or physique. Anyway, shopping was a fairly depressing exercise. Most of the larges were a bit snug, although I have seen bigger arses than mine in Japan.

After that, I took myself to Saitama Resona Ginko to apply for a credit card. I was all ready with my `is there anyone here who speaks English` when I was ushered towards the same small woman who helped me with transferring cash to Rachel after Christmas (I got over-excited with cheap cushions and she helped me out, bless her). She took me through the form, only to realise I should fill it in in romaji (English) and not katakana (baby Japanese), so I had to do it all again. Then I ticked the `no wife` box by mistake and had to start again. Then, the lady at the counter became upset that my name was not in the same order as my initial application (I came in as Zoe MacGechan, but have sinced learned they prefer MacGechan Zoe and was trying to be helpful).

After all this faffing, I was placed in a seat and asked to wait slightly. I was then beckoned over and offered either a complimentary blanket or a cup for my troubles. I went for the cup with a lid and little gully for tealeaves, but man, I wish I had that blanket. The lady at the counter had to deliberate some more (while they are accused of being efficient, I think this is merely a euphimism for painstakingly slow), so I pleased myself by passing pleasantries with the small lady. We `chatted` about cherry blossom and I told her I was from London. My first genuine Japanese conversation. That she was a random housewife whose English was as passable as my Japanese, made me feel slightly embarrassed, but she seemed very impressed by my efforts.

Wednesday night, I met up with Sean for dinner, though we were driven out of the okonomiyake place by the staff shouts that greet every order and a twenty minute wait. We did manage to neck a cup of complimentary tea before deciding to try something new. On the way I went to the cinema to get myself a ticket for the late show and was feeling very independent in Japan, until the girl almost sent me into Narnia as I didn`t pronounce `Munich` `Muhen`. We plumped for burgers, where Sean sent my beer pouring over the table and the seat. We tried to clean it up ourselves, but another diner ran for help (I don`t know how to even start saying any of this in Japanese yet). Then I took myself to the flicks.

Yesterday I was meant to dine with Atsuko and Raj, although knew Raj had been gearing up for a blow-out from the moment Atsuko mentioned it to him, but prepared myself some lunch of mixed rice, which had been stored in my non-freezing freezer for longer than it should have been. I wasn`t properly ill, but the thought of an izakaya brought me out in a hot sweat so I went home and salad and plain rice. Later, I mustered up the courage to take on a glass of wine, but no more than that.

Today I had a much-longed for lie-in. My curtains let in the light, so I have been waking up at dawn every morning. Last night, I draped every blanket I own over them and slept soundly. This afternoon, as a special treat, I took myself to see Suzuki-san and now have overly-short hair. It`s nice though - his trip to Vidal Sassoon was not wasted. We had a lovely chat and I was able to say the odd encouraging word in Japanese as he snipped away, but `I`m growing it` is still beyond my abilities. I got introduced to the other customers as his girlfriend, and was overly-excited by it, then got to look through the photos of his trip. He has more, in his apartment apparently, but I felt it a bit forward to invite myself round (I had forgotten the difference between `show me` and `look`). Maybe next time. The man seems obsessed with pigeons - there were masses of pictures of dirty old birds, the worst of the worst, in his album, so if anyone has any pigeon memorabilia they can send me, please do!