Covent Garden

I spent a few hours walking the streets of London yesterday.

In my attempt to find Tottenham Court Road, I managed to end up in Covent Garden, somewhere I've not been before.

I loved it.

There was this talking dog. He just sat there, all day.






These statues were something else. I've never seen anyone be so statue-like. Not even a hint of breath. In fact, I was thinking that they might actually be real statues, secretly put there by a human statue in the middle of the night when he got tired of standing still for a living.





The volunteer. Why do we feel so pressured to grow up?



This opera singer was amazing. I've found myself becoming increasingly attracted to male opera singers. Good job *Twinkle*gets here soon, don't want all that wedding planning going to waste.

Tarra

Cloud tales

The main line that heads out due West from London towards Swansea provides great views of the English countryside.The tracks are often raised on big beds of gravel, providing us with superb views across the surrounding fields. The first cut of this season’s hay has just been made, leaving doogle bales dotting the landscape. Moo cows, meahs and neigh-neighs also feature prominently - I wonder why we need so many horses?

But it’s the sky that really grabs the attention. Sunny, with rainy patches, it’s essentially blue, but with two distinct layers of periodic cloud. High-up there’s the seemingly motionless candy-floss cumulous grand-daddies, and below them, a few hundred metres from the ground, wispy floaty teenage clouds. The speed of the train and relative distance of the two types creates a dramatic sense of the different attitudes towards life these two types take. The teenagers are playing games with their shadows, their favourite being “How many cows can you make sit down?” The Grand-daddies meanwhile have long since said goodbye to those days of racing across the landscape. They’re happy to sit in their armchairs, smoking their pipes and sending great puffs up into to sky above them. Looking down, they share stories of the time that they were young whippersnappers, mischievously relieving themselves on the shoppers in Chippenham and Bath. They see the train I’m on speeding to the West; “remember in the old days the trains would send up those great clouds of smoke! Used to make me cough they did. Never did get any compensation from the environment agency”.

That’s the kind of thing clouds talk about. That and the group on the social networking site Cloudbook that has secretly formed to organise a mass protest against pollution over the Beijing Olympics. They’ve heard that the humans are planning to use rockets loaded with chemical warheads against them, but the leaders of the movement are steadfast in their resolve. They will not disperse.

Ho hum. Here’s Bristol. Looks like rain.

Image: Creativity+ Timothy K Hamilton on Flickr

From the train: Nuclear Drivers and Being the Change

I'm on the train back to Sheffield. It's been a pretty easy journey, relaxing. For the first leg I was on a rail-relacement bus. I sat at the front as I often do on buses, provided they have seat-belts. Next to me was a chap in his 40s. Pretty scruffy, stinking of cigarettes.

"This bus journey is costing me £400" he said to the driver, clearly pretty pissed off. "I'm a truckie - got a load of nuclear waste to take to Germany tonight, have to be at Dover by 10pm. I'm gonna miss that ferry because of these engineering works - you have no idea how much trouble that's gonna cause. They have to make special allowances for me, have to make sure I'm on the deck - it's a nuclear load you know"

The bus driver mumbled something about the train company working to upgrade the track.

"Yeah, well, it's just not good enough. I'm gonna make sure this rail company gets all the bad press it deserves."

Well, that'll certainly help, won't it?

Things were quiet after that. Just the guy at Stockport who seemed suicidal in a manic kind of way. Thankfully he didn't jump in front of the train - just banged repeatedly on the door until it opened.

I've been reading more of the Be The Change. I tell you, if you have any dreams of starting any kind of movement or company to bring about positive change, this book is a must. It is so inspiring. You can't help but feel "Why not me?" after reading this book.

The other message that comes out of it's butterfly-adorned pages is that it is vital to follow your passion. You also need to have a laser-like focus; seek advice as widely as possible; have a plan that is set and followed, yet flexible; get a great team around you.
If you have these things, you can't fail in whatever you do.

I'm struck by what these people have achieved. They have touched the lives of billions. They are incredible - and yet at the same time they are no different from Joe Bloggs. Indeed, it's that message that is one of the loudest. These folks don't have buckets of money, they aren't nuclear physicists, they don't necessarily have any clear idea of what they want to do at the outset - but they do find their passion, and follow it.

Mind you, if I look around, I see people like that everywhere, doing amazing things (be they small or big amazing things) on a daily basis, making a difference. I bet if I interviewed a sample of my friends and acquaintances (and mumblers) I'd be able to fill a book that was just as inspiring, in its own way.

All of this keeps on leading me back to my new life with *Twinkle*. Just can't get her out of my head. This new partnership excites me so much. Scares me too. So much change, so much opportunity - am I going to be brave enough to step outside of my comfort zone and follow my heart? It would be far easier to just settle for something that doesn't stretch me too much, but I think long term that would be quite painful.

Ho hum.

Just pulling into Sheffield Station, must dash.

Took the train south

It's good to be back in nature.

Day in snapshots

I've had this camera follow me around all day. It's been taking snapshots of my thinking. Kinda strange. I developed the film, here's what came out.

---

It's 5.45am. My phone alarm goes off. I think about whether I want to wake up - i think, "well, the interview isn't until 8am, I can sleep till 7am." I doze for another hour.

8am. Skype rings. It's the company in Tokyo for the job interview. I'm feeling pretty relaxed, but the voice... it's not the woman I was expecting. No, this is someone new. She's Japanese, has an American accent, but I get this idea she's been to Australia too. She's friendly and responds well to humour. This is going to be good.

20 minutes in. Things are going well, I'm enjoying talking to her. Then she asks me a question I'd not thought about; "What are the most important qualities for an employee of this company?". I feel that fear, and fall over over my words as I try to come up with something. I give an answer. "Is that all?" she asks. I grope about in the dark, and come up with something else. Something good. Crisis over, I'm back on track.

40 minutes is up. "Well, thank you, it's been real nice chatting" she says. "Likewise". I'm happy.

Next snapshot, I'm in the CILASS office at 9.20am. I'm happy to see Sabine, Pam and Nicola. "You're not in today!" I'm told. "No, you're right, I'm on a train to Bradford in 30 mins! A few minutes later the powerpoint is printed, and I run for the tram.

The journey to Bradford takes 90 minutes, but I don't notice it. First off, I read my newspaper. Nothing of interest apart from an article about the possibility of using the iPhone in education. I repackage the many sections of the paper and leave them on the seat opposite, hoping they will appeal to someone else later on - it's not fair that they have such a short life. Then I'm watching a DVD, Sliding Doors, a film I loved when I first saw it, but now am more inclined to agree with my friend who thinks it's pants.

Bradford. I've not been here before. I ask the girl in WHSMITHs where the uni is, she points, 'over there'.

Bradford Town Hall. Clearly modelled on Sheffield's Florence's Palazzo Vecchio (thanks to our Tokyo correspondent for that update)

Walking down the street in my patchwork jeans and Tilley Hat - I'm excited! I'm the new kid in town. Wow, so many chances to interact with all these people - I'm buzzing.

But three minutes later, I'm lost. I ask a scruffy old man, white hair, wonkey teeth, dirty green shirt, "Excuse me, could you tell me the way to the University please?" He doesn't know. To my surprise he then starts barking out at passers-by, "University? University anyone?" People ignore us, stare at us. I'm about to assure him that it's ok, when a couple in matching denim outfits stop. "University? Yeah, we're going that way! Come with us!"

15 minutes later I'm on the university campus. It's nice. Kind of out of place, surrounded by boarded-up shops and derelict buildings. I reach the library building, reception check my name off the list and lets me in.

I'm there for a workshop organised by the Yorkshire universities, the topic is Web 2.0 & Information Literacy - myself and a CILASS colleague are to give the student view.

But first we listen to a very funny guy talk about his thoughts on web 2.0 for 45 minutes. He's in his 50s, white hair, has long since dispensed with concerns over what other people think of him. I like him - his show seems to be 90% Flickr, photos representing ideas, with the odd image thrown in that had no connection to anything, but reminded him of his son on holiday. I smile.

Break for lunch. Sandwiches are OK. Vegetable Samosa's not bad either. Red grapes are my favourite. I make an attempt to connect with the lady who seems to be hosting it. She's cool. I like her name badge. They don't have name badges like those at Sheffield.

1.45pm and we're up! *Twinkle* flashes up as my desktop background, but she's masked by the opening slide. We've a lot to get through and have to rush it a bit, but it's fun. It reminds me of the last time I presented to a group of staff, the lack of reactions from 2/3 of the audience. They must have had to sit through hundreds of presentations, and there was no way they were going to feign enthusiasm just because the presenter had multicolour patchwork jeans on. But it's OK, a good third of them are engaging. They are the ones that know me, and the younger strangers.

Presentation successfully delivered, we pack up and head off. My post-presentation headache kicks in - always does. I didn't get that nervous about it all, but I guess the excitement of presenting to 25 librarians is too much for my head.

I joke with my colleague, "when I'm presenting to 10,000 people I'll have to look back on this and laugh!".

I've got time to visit the National Media Museum before heading back to Sheffield for the Japan soc BBQ. Just my luck - the U2 show at the IMAX finished the night before, and today it's nothing but overgrown dinosaurs. Oh, and two of the galleries are closed for installation works. Still, the rest of the place is open, and the staff are so enthusiastic & really keen to help - I feel excited.

I'm in the basement, watching 1970s Kodak commercials. I love them. Those revolutionary single-use flash bulbs that mean you can take photos INSIDE! Or how about the camera with the handle so you can hold it steady - meaning you can even get good shots on rainy days!

Minutes later - an encounter with a dalek...



I'm on the 4th floor now, in the BBC studio mock-up. I try my hand at delivering the weather forecast. The camera wants to chop my head off.



I then play the role of presenter of the BBC news - but the seat is too high and when I watch the playback on the big screen afterwards I can only see the bottom half of my face!

Through to the other half of the building, and there's a real glass-walled BBC radio studio in there - on air.

I move on up to the children's TV floor. OMG it's Zippy and George! The actual puppets used on Rainbow. And next to them the toys from Playschool! Wow, I haven't seen Humpty in years! It's quite an emotional reunion.





I sit in one of the TV booths and choose to watch Dangermouse. It only seems appropriate as I've come to Bradford on CILASS business and have had Danger Mouse as the folder icon for CILASS on my mac for months.

I'm getting tired. As I make my way back to the station, I wonder why I get so tired walking across cities some times. Well, it's been a long day I guess.

I'm back on the train. I'd decided to not check the platform and go on intuition. After 20 minutes travelling in the wrong direction I reluctantly decide to get off the Skipton Train at some pretend station, cross to the other platform and wait for the train that is actually going to Sheffield.

As I'm waiting I find my banana in the bottom of my bag. It's been squashed, but is still edible. I stuff it all in at once and then try and shield my face from the girl in the shelter. I wonder if she's afraid of me.

I'm listening to Murakami's Dance Dance Dance on my iPod all this time. I'm enjoying it. That was part of the reason why I didn't want to get off the train going to Skipton. I wanted to listen to my story.

The train terminates at Leeds and I need to change. As I wait for my (delayed) connection I get a call from my japan soc friend - Aren't you coming to the final BBQ? "I got on the wrong train" I tell her, feeling bad that I'm going to miss it. I should have been there, and I knew it.

Well, I'll email later and apologise. I feel pretty bad about it.

I'm now sitting inside a luggage rack on a jam-packed train to Sheffield. I'm trying not to lean on my rucksack' knowing that I could damage my laptop screen.

The guy sitting inside the luggage rack opposite me is another of these white-haired men in their 50s. We strike up a silent friendship, both sharing unusual seats. We joke with our eyes about the group of girls behaving outrageously between us.

A chap shouts down the carriage "Can't you move up?! There's people still trying to get on".
I admire him for speaking up, and wonder what it was that made him into the kind of person that could say that to a group of strangers on a train in such an assertive tone.

I understand when he gets off 2 stops later: he has a badge on a webbed string around his neck, it reads: "British Transport Police".

We arrive at Sheffield. i say goodbye to my luggage rack friend, and take the tram home.

I'm in bed, shattered. I don't want to do anything, but don't want to sleep. So, I watch a DVD - 'Stranger than Fiction'. It's ok. It entertains me. I like the love story, implausible though it is.

Film over, I think about the day just gone. It's been a good one. I enjoyed all these interactions, and being a stranger in a new town.

This life thing, it's kinda cool really. I like it.

Norwegian Wood, Religious Weddings and the Canvas of Life

Latest addition to my mum's art portfolio

Fascinating, thrilling day today. It is so great to see family after such a long time.

I caught the tram at 6.30am, train down to Hereford, bus to Wormelow, car to Orcop. Thoroughly enjoyable journey. Not only did I get to indulge in one of all-time favourite hobbies -sewing patches on my jeans (and this was a MAJOR patch, handmade by my talented friend Suzie H a couple of years back, I've been saving it for such an occasion as today's), but also, I was able to indulge in listening to a new Audiobook - Norwegian Wood by Murakami. I've not read it before, but have long wanted to, knowing how much it is liked by so many of my friends. I absolutely loved 'Kafka on the Shore': I listened to that as I crossed the East China Sea, and found myself identifying with the characters as they made their own journey's West.

Whilst the narration of Norwegian Wood is not spellbinding in the way that that of Kafka was, I'm really enjoying the story nonetheless. I recognise the characters in people I know, the most prominent example being that of the upper-class womaniser destined to be a bureaucrat, who appears to me as the chap from Oxford university who made it to the final of the speech contest with me last month (to the right of me in this picture).



I did a bit of PC-doctoring today, getting my sister's webcam working for Skype (secret is to uninstall the Logitec software and let Skype handle the camera itself) which the boys liked (funny seeing yourself on screen for the first time!), and setting up iTunes so she can listen to some of the audiobooks I've purchased from Audible (you can license up to 3 computers to play your DRM-protected tracks).

Also talked about the wedding quite a bit, lots of good ideas emerging. It's going to be great.

One 'issue' that comes up for some people is this getting-married-in-a-church business. Neither *Twinkle* or I are particularly religious, and as you know, I am not too keen on traditional Christian notions of an almighty 'God' ...so why do I want to get married in a church?

Well, as with everything in life, a church wedding only carries the meaning that an individual chooses to assign to it. In Japan, 'church' weddings are popular (although the church is unlikely to be 'real' and the priest may well be a fake). I feel I have been somewhat influenced by the research I carried out on Japanese 'Christian weddings' in 2006/07, in that for me such a wedding does not necessarily have to relate to any religious tradition, and is really very appealing.

What others may label as "God" I feel is a nameless infinite source; love; an immense energy that fills us, that is us, and all of our surroundings.

Thus, a demonstration of my commitment to *Twinkle* in the 'presence of God' is for me, not a subscription to norms as laid out in holy texts, but rather, a powerful acknowledgement of our decision to commit to strive to bring our energies, our love, into flexible alignment.

There's other, somewhat more tangible reasons for having a church wedding too. I want to see my dream bride walk down the aisle in a beautiful white dress -it's in all the movies! I want the experience of church bells ringing overhead, confetti being thrown as we leave the church. I've been influenced by popular culture, and I want to live the dream.

I also feel that our parents would appreciate a church wedding. Perhaps here again I am influenced by Japanese customs I feel that our wedding is in a way as much an event for our families as it is for us.

Dad

I'm not sure I could have handled a church wedding a year or two ago, but the timing now is perfect.

---

It's been a tremendous day of synchronisity. I won't go into details here, but just to say that thoughts that have been circulating within my head have today been vocalised by two people close to me, quite out of the blue. It's all related to where do I go from here? Suddenly, concerns over employment after I return to Japan are made to seem like nothing but minor details that are sure to addressed through the natural unfolding of life.

These worries have been dwarfed by the appearance of this huge blank canvas that stretches out as far as the eye can see. In front of it is this incredible array of coloured materials and tools for their application. There's a sign there too. It reads:

Paint your future. Then Live it.

Aghh! I can't deal with that! Where's the colouring book with the numbered options: 1 for red, 2 for blue, 3 for green? Just choose your picture and fill in as prescribed. I know if I do that I'll succeed, everyone does!

...but a blank canvas?! You mean I can paint anything at all? ...But, I dunno what to paint! And what if I go wrong, what if I get the colours mixed up?

I must work to accept that it's only when artists move away from the colouring template that new colours are created by the mixing of the primaries, its only through experimentation that breakthroughs in style are made - and that it is these breakthroughs that bring great joy to artist and onlooker alike.

I've not been faced with such a huge canvas before. It keeps on getting bigger too as it is unrolled further by friends, by family, by books, by experiences. I understand that I'm being challenged to pick up one of the many tools before me and make my mark, but what tool I should use, and what colour should I apply?

It'll come to me. I know it will. I needn't be afraid because I will be guided by someone or something.

It's also important that I not feel I have to paint the whole picture with a single brushstroke - I'd never dare make that sweep from left to right! If I start small with little dabs, holding a clear idea of what I'm looking to create in my mind, with time the scene will emerge. I may accidentally put a splurge of red where green would be better suited, but that red will come to play an important part, perhaps a little poppy in the field of wheat.

Hmm, it's very exciting.

What's even more exciting though, is that in reality, we are all faced with this canvas, every single day.