Recently we went to a high school festival day. All sorts going on- grotesque collages with teachers faces strung up, yaki-soba stalls, corridors packed, everyone turned out their best for the big day. Sean quickly found some old junior high school students of his in the Gym and started chatting (with a sprinkling of English) while I stood beside, doing my best to look Older. Some students were trying to get rid of the last of the food- bowls of udon, rice balls, boxes of unused eggs and all around the take-down was slowly progressing. We'd come late, at the end in fact, after all.
We made our way back to our bikes. There was a farewell barbeque to get to, that we'd spend under the bridge beside the river since the rainy season was still living up to it's name. Along the corridors, Sean bumped into more students who clearly idolised him, or looked up to him, or just fancied him. And then someone popped up with a bag full of bouncy balls the size of maltesers. Sean was given or bought the bag and then I told him to throw it on the floor and see if it bounced. Turns out, a bag of bouncy balls isn't as bouncy as one on it's own. Sean threw it straight down, hard. The bag landed with a plastic splat and the balls all went bobbling all over the place. And that's my favourite memory of Sean, who left this week.
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