Now all the brouhaha and excitement has died down after Helene and Matt got married and I've been back a week and a half or so, I felt like taking stock.
It feels strange to be back. No, that's not true, that's not exactly it. It feels strange knowing that I won't be going back to Japan.
Some things have changed around here. You can now self-scan and pay for sundry goods at Tesco, eliminating the need for any human contact in your grocery shopping. Around the house, new coffee mugs and serviettes, the odd painting I don't recognize, or a space where one I once did once lived. Boris, deaf as one of those new mugs.
Some things haven't changed. Mum, the horse and that little squit of a pony can't even barely poke his head out above the box he's so short. I'm still no better in Dad's garden than his shadow with a stick, ready to hit anything or poke any dead-tree stump that might well be a wasps' nest for all the wasps flying in and out of it.
Some things have been glorious to rediscover - the smell of greengages mashed into the dirt by hoof or boot off the Cole Green Way; crisp autumn evenings with their own peculiar, clean smell; white-spotted brown apples fermenting in copses. The taste of water that comes out of the tap here. Match of the Day.
Houses fit me ill. I surprised Beverley jumped right out of her skin not expecting me there by the computer in her study as she walked through from the kitchen. I slipped down the stairs, not having walked on carpet in a long time and certainly not having walked on carpet in socks in a long time and nor will I again for a long time.
Some things I've only realised about my life in Japan in retrospect. Almost every one of the friends I made works in a creative capacity, either as writer, photographer, designer, architect... I should stp short there or else the rose-tint will skew my eyes forever.
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