Lessons in Wifeyness and Shit

5 Aug

Tonight hub felt the need to impart two important lessons on how to be the bestest Japanese wife. This post will probably be filled with shitloads of sarcasm, and possibly the word cunt.

I wasn’t doing household shit. No, he had been out drumming at an ‘obon’ (festival of the dead) thing for  his friend and mentor who passed away a few months ago. He had been drinking and quite frankly I thought he wouldn’t get home till like 11 so hearing him walk through the door at 9:20 was against my Masterchef and wine schedule.

I decided to do my wife duties by going in and pouring his drinks and sitting beside him while we watched aimless, but sometimes very entertaining, Japanese variety programs on TV. It was funny, life was grand. And then the ads come on.

There was an ad about a lonely kid who was walking home from school when another kid invited him over to play soccer. They obviously bonded extremely well in that 20 minutes they were playing soccer because when the cool kid’s dad came to pick him up in his flash new Toyota or whatever the kid invites the poor lonely kid to get a ride home – because they are now ‘friends’ right? The poor kid looks super happy, jumps in the car of an adult he has never met before, puts on his seatbelt (this probably wouldn’t happen normally in Japan) and off they go.

I say, in a kind of wondering to the universe kind of way, ‘why would they show an ad about a kid getting into the car of an adult he has never met before – the father of a kid he was not friends with until 20 minutes ago???’ Note there have been killings in Japan of parents killing their kid’s friends and this ad made me think of that – although in that instance they kids were actually friends and the killer mother was jealous of the other kid or whatever.

Hub was all like no, he should be able to get into anybody’s car. I’m like, of course he ‘should’ be able to but the world is a fuckin scary place and I don’t care how suited up and flash that dad looked he shouldn’t have gotten in the car without his parents knowing. I mean I’d go ape shit at Shou if he arrived him driven by an adult I didn’t know! Sure, I’d say thank you and sorry for the inconvenience and all that but as soon as he had driven away I’d be all over Shou about getting into the car of a stranger.

At which point hub said I always spoke down on him, like his opinion never mattered and that perhaps, just sometimes I should shut up. . .

I apologised and said maybe my Japanese, seeing as I AM NOT JAPANESE, wasn’t right and that I didn’t intend to belittle his opinions but that it was OK FOR US TO HAVE DIFFERING OPINIONS and that healthy debate was a good thing.

Do you know what he said next?

Come on?


…. …..

Maybe sometimes I just shouldn’t have an opinion. . .


This is my Japanese husband, who wakes up and cooks the kids breakfast, makes their lunches for soccer … …


I think I snorted at that point – it was that or hit him over the head with a frypan and quite frankly my kids need a sensible mother at home not one in jail. I calmly told him it was extremely offensive to tell me not to have an opinion.

He said sorry.

AND THEN SAID, I guess these are the kinds of conversations we are just going to be having for now and for ever.. ….

All I can say is, thank god he got a blow job yesterday cause he ain’t seeing anything else for a long time….


Which kind of, in a round about way, brings me to the next wife lesson.

Last night I went out to dinner with some mummy friends. We got pissed and ranted about all the shit mums rant about. In the middle of this the conversation turned to soccer and four out of the five of us had kids who did, or are still doing, soccer. One kid stopped cause the family moved to Fukuoka. Another kid stopped cause he didn’t like biking through the dark tunnel to soccer practice in winter… … apparently.

I said that coach’s angry antics towards the kids was really shit lately and I didn’t know if Shou would make it to 6th grade still playing soccer – as in last week the coach, in front of our team, the opposing team and all the parents, screamed that he thought Shou was complete shit at every position and what the fuck should he do with him.

Please note that being an asshole coach is not uncommon in Japan. I think its supposed to build character or some shit.

Anyhoo, the mother of the boy that couldn’t bike through the tunnel said, you know the real reason we quit soccer was because coach was stalking me.. …. …

ME: WTF????


ME: WTF????


Her: Yeah, I’m really good friends with his little sister and have been going to their house since I was like 3 but damn, after he got married I started getting txts every day – with shit like … …

hey, I saw your car at the baseball field in the next town over, who were you with?

hey, let’s celebrate, just the two of us

hey, I thought you were supposed to be working today


It completely floored me. I have known him half me life. I know his wife. I teach their kids.


I am so confused. My image of him was not this at all. Another mum piped up that his image at work (like amongst the work ladies) was quite bad – he’s a bit of a playboy.

HOW could I have missed this?

I SHOULD NOT have brought this topic up with hub. I mean, hub does after all sit beside the coach at work. Hub is his boss.

He didn’t seem super surprised. He knows something.

And what did he say to me??


“too many opinions is a bad thing’

‘we wont last on ‘too many opinions’





watch this  space for divorce details.


I’m joking, kind of. I haven’t uttered the words yet but if the situation was different the words would have probably been uttered by now.

I love my husband for so many reasons, and yet just a couple of CUNTY characteristics could ruin it all. But I guess trying to suppress my opinion is a big cunting deal!!

You fucktard.


Thank you for putting up with the rant.



EDIT – I deleted this post the morning after posting it – thinking I had said too much. But then I re-read it sans beverages and fuck it, it is a pretty accurate account of what happened. I know hub would have a completely different blog post – about nagging wives and shit but damn, why can’t we have healthy debate? aka CONVERSATION about shit? Why do I have to be trying to be right all the time. FFS, sometimes I just want to speak English words so I say shit, for the sake of it.

I obviously need to watch my ‘for the sake of it’ shit. Maybe if I had an English speaking husband as well – like a reverse harlem – I’d be all good!! I wonder if the soccer coach can speak English!!!!


2 Aug

Bloody translation bollocks. Haven’t had that kind of bollocks for a while!! I have had translations but not accompanied by bollocks. Actually probably not so much bollocks and misunderstandings and financial jargon!

I got a request for an urgent project yesterday afternoon – to be completed by this evening. I had a look at the source document, realised it was was all financial bollocks and said that yes I could handle the requested 2,500 characters – well, I thought she said characters but it turns it she meant words. Which is fuckin stupid because you should never ask someone to do a translation on the amount of words of the target language.

Anyhoo she sends through the file and I go fuckity fuck and promptly pack a childish spaz in front of the children – who are home from summer school because hey, they had shrine dancing and soccer and shit all weekend and they’re knackered. I also have free lunch tickets for a place half an hour away so, in my head, we were all going to have a lovely outing.

This ‘in my head’ thing is a failing of parents worldwide. We should all go on outings prepared for everything possible turning to complete and utter shit, and then be pleasantly surprised when we make it home without a stranger having called child protective services or something. Although I will admit that outings are getting slightly easier in some insanity-induced form or other. I mean the kids don’t cry or puke all over my back anymore, but the shit that can spew forth from their mouth can just make you want to slide into a hole somewhere – I’m sure I tell the waitresses to seat me at the ‘gobble me up if necessary’ table.

Manners children. Where the FUCK are your FUCKIN manners. Fuck me you’ll all be in your rooms for an hour when we get home.

But this post is about fuckity fuck translations.

So I gathered together my bestest translations skills and made the kids turn on all technical devices and screens in the house so I could have a couple of hours of peace to deal with the financial jargony jargon of it all.

And then hub comes home and sees the explosion of life around him – aka, the mess that is usually cleaned up and sparkling by the time he comes home. He questions why I took the translation on at all? I said I fucked up the amount, I said yes, and now I have to suck it up and finish it so a bit of bloody …. …. rah rah – the rest was all said in my head. Including, you cunt! I may or may not have done the fingers behind his back as I walked out of the living room and back to my pit of coffee and translation.

Hub and the kids are all up in bed at 9pm. Or so I thought. Turned out Shou was still awake so I made him come in to my pit of doom and despair and do a couple of pages of summer vacay homework. You know it sucked but fuck, mum had turned into the ‘translation dragon of hell’ so really he just had to suck it up. He is now officially 4 pages over the quota he needs to turn in tomorrow – yes – when they have to go to school for class DURING THE SUMMER VACATION.

That is a completely different post, requiring photographic evidence and copious amounts of wine.

So I stayed up until midnight, wallowing in net profits and revenues and bastard cunt engineers who make supersonic antennas and shit (If somehow you are actually a bastard cunt engineer who stumbles on this blog on his/her journey to whatever then please re-read that as AWESOME engineer) and then I had to call it quits cause I was seeing double on the screen and I jest needed to snuggle up and go the fuck to sleep.

And then all of a sudden it was fuckin TODAY!! I had informed my project manager yesterday that I was incredibly sorry for misunderstanding her original email but that I was in no way capable of taking on the length of the file she sent – which was like 5,000 characters. Something I would ONLY take on in 24 hours if it was content matter I was like super familiar with, like content matter I had given birth to or something.

I am thinking I will have to somehow get through the whole thing as haven’t heard from her by like 10am.

And then I remember she’s in a different time zone. She emails me and tells me she has someone to take on what I can’t handle.

And then ensues about 13 emails of me telling her where I can get to and where the next person should start yaddah yaddah – only I haven’t taken into account that my english translations have made the page count on the source document and the document I am translating on all fucked up so yeah… …. we get our wires crossed a few times and in the end she assigns a part to the other person that starts right after the paragraph I REALLY didn’t want to do.

But hey, at least I know more about hydrogen batteries right!





It’s raining mum

26 Jul

And here, nearly week on, and I find myself nursing my second coffee after another very restless night! Gaaaaah, but thankful for the summer holiday program and not having to project manage three children for the day. God, I hope I heated everything up OK before making their bentos.

Our no TV, no screens and no alcohol Monday went well, bar the TV part – which we succumbed to because very entertaining program on fit for whole family – well, minus the bit on ‘practical jokes’ – one of which was of people riding elevators in Europe somewhere and the lights getting turned off, only to have a little girl in a white nightdress holding a scary doll turn up beside you when the lights come on. And THEN scream blue murder in your face. I would probably piss my pants!

But this post isn’t about me pissing my pants.

Oh no, today’s pissy pant post goes to Ryu.

After everyone else was in bed I got me a cup of cha and settled in for a couple of episodes of Masterchef Australia. Down to the wire we are. Finals night tonight! I headed up stairs just before midnight and was nearly asleep when Ryu comes down the hall very confused and out of sorts.

“Mum. My bed’s all wet”

“Oh, did you forget to go the loo before bed and after that really big shaved ice I let you have at 8pm…”

“No, but it’s not wee. Is it raining? Why is it only my bed thats wet?”

So there we both are, sniffing his wet pajamas at midnight.

I make him take off his PJs and then I strip his bed and take him downstairs naked to get more clothes on. After the other night’s extremely unsuccessful attempt of hub, Ryu and I sharing a bed I opt to get one of the downstairs guest futons out and put it in the TV room, with the aircon, because its still like 30 degree in the middle of the night. Ryu immediately falls back to sleep in the middle of the futon so I slide on up the side but am now fully awake and left alone with my thoughts – which went to the mini meetings we have with the teachers tonight. I haven’t been before I don’t think. I know I was in NZ last year and the year before at this time but maybe I went when Shou was in first grade. Anyhoo, thinking about how things need to be juggled with my English class, kid pick up, dinner, soccer drop off, mini meetings etc. Thank god Marina’s shrine dancing got cancelled – possibly because all parents will be at mini meeting.

I ended up vacating the futon for the couch, which was lucky because Shou was downstairs at 5:15. He was probably hoping to fit in a sneaky hour on Minecraft but didn’t seem too put out when he stumbled upon the futon and even went back to sleep for another hour.

It was a bit of a scramble to get the kids’ bentos ready and everything sorted and them off to the summer program so that I could get home with enough time to give a translation due at 9am a final once over.

But here we are.

So far today’s missions have been successfully completed.





Nay to Sleep

21 Jul

I came down stairs this morning to find three children doing homework…. ….. which would be a grand thing if it wasn’t half five on the first day of the school holidays. I mean fuckin seriously. They even had soccer last night AND stayed up half an hour past their bedtime to celebrate the end of school and three good-ish report cards.

Ryu’s was just about perfection, Marina’s was creditable and Shou had three triangles beside ‘looks after school property’ , ‘listen’s to people properly when they talk’ , and one other behavioral thing. Reports here for primary school are generally loads of columns for each subject etc and either a double circle for ‘has achieved this well’, a single circle for ‘achieved’ and a triangle for ‘fucked up’ or similar.

But anyway, it was too bloody early to be up, especially after the night of pretty much nay sleep I had.

Hub gets all nazi on me sometimes and declares a day ‘national not going to drink day’. This is usually a Monday as those are the days the school would like us to restrict screen time for the kids – we go full hog and say it is no TV, no electronic devices, and no alcohol day. This week however, Monday was a public holiday and I was away with Shou and Marina at soccer – which was a two day stay the night affair in Minami-Aso, a town that got hit relatively badly by the Kumamoto earthquake. Apparently there was an aftershock while we were there but must have been as we were all hollering from the sidelines at our respective kids.

It was a three-hour drive home after a hot hot couple of days and hub was also feeling exhausted after single parenting the golden child – sarcasm required in the ‘exhausted’ not the ‘golden child’. Ryu, on his own, is a pleasure to behold. Not wanting to remind hub that it was Monday, and considering we walked in to the TV blaring and Ryu playing Minecraft, it was obviously going to be acceptable to have a couple of cold beverages in celebration of  surviving the long weekend.

So, last night was beverage free instead – which means a bit more trouble floating off to sleepy land, which I find baffling as I don’t need wine or beverages of any description to successfully have a nana nap in the middle of the day! Hub tends to go to bed first which is annoying as he snores, which doesn’t seem to bother me after wine. I also don’t tend to wake to every sound that comes from the kids’ rooms but damn, last night!! Faaark.

It’s about 30 degrees (celsius) and, with the fan on full-tit practically in my face, I am very very close to successfully accomplishing the whole falling off to sleep thing when I hear a very loud ‘the squid and the toothbrush’ coming from Shou’s room. My mummy antenna now alert I patiently wait to see if there will be a sequel to the squid and toothbrush. There isn’t so I start the sleep process again but somehow manage to get caught up in my own head full of ‘the ten thousand and 21 things that need to be remembered over the summer holidays’. I must get bored at about 700, which may or may have not been what two days Shou and Marina need to water the plants at school.

I’m nearly asleep again when Ryu yells out ‘Mama’. While I am quite happy to let Shou fend off any squids and giant toothbrushes I really do have to rush to make sure the golden child is OK. He is wondering why every time he goes to sleep he dreams about something on his bed. I pat his back and give him a kiss and tell him there are no monsters in his bed, or giant squids, or toothbrushes, or plants to water for school.

I mean it’s 2am by this stage and I’m starting to not make sense.

On the way back to bed I realise that perhaps maybe something IS on his bed. When I went to close their window earlier the whole thing was open with no screen, meaning any number of oversized insects could have crawled in and IN FACT be in his bed. So I go back, scoop the boy up and we go back to our bed, where I have to not so gently try and de-starfish hub who, in my 15 second absence, is now taking up the entire bed.

I now have to sleep in a really awkward position. BUT, I’m also very tired and really everyone needs to just shut up now so I can go the fuck to sleep.

Which is all fine and dandy until about 3am when I can feel an internal organ trying to hemorrhage out my vagina. I do have a pad in the size of a yoga mat BUT, you know how you can just tell when it’s like ‘hey mother fucker, I’m huge and messy and I’m going to explode out the saloon doors and completely miss the pad and just make a huge fuckity mess the SECOND gravity lets me.

So I have to slinky dink out of bed and crawl to the toilet on my hands and knees. I make it, and carefully go to sit on the loo (any big movements and I’ll be changing my pajamas) when I realise my aforementioned awkward sleeping position and crawl to the loo have twisted the yoga mat and now half of it is stuck to the saloon doors and not to my undies.

I mean really.

I fuckin love ripping a bandage off my vagina at 3am – in silence, for fear of waking anyone up.

So let’s just say that when I hear Shou try to ninja down the stairs at 5am I was beyond over it. He ignored my, what were probably very incomprehensible by this stage, pleas of ‘PLEASE, just go back to bed’… …

And, now its 10am and I really need to clean the house, hang out the washing and try and sort through the piles of paperwork that accompanies summer holidays here in Japan. The homework worksheets, the homework workbook, the pages of diary entries that need to be written, the essays, the posters, the money boxes that need to be made, the swimming school, the plant watering, the peace day, the teacher’s meeting, the patrols, the, the, faaaaaark.

Here’s hoping I get a better sleep tonight at least.




Short and Sweet

13 Jul

Wow, nearly a month. Shame on me. I guess I’ve been busy but if I’ve got time to complete levels on Jelly Smash (or is it actually Splash?) and even google Pokemon Go to see what all the fuss is about then I guess I’ve got time to get back to the blog!

The 40th wasn’t as much of a bummer as I was expecting. I got lots of goodies from here, there and everywhere and the kids managed to not fight for 13 minutes so whose to say I’m not winning right there.

I am currently sitting in about 80% humidity, aka sweating my tits off, trying to get the motivation to sort dinner before I head off to teach three back to back classes. Out of the corner of my eye I can see two very long spider legs poking out from the deep wooden railing thing near our ceiling -that some Japanese rooms have. They haven’t moved for a while but they are widely distracting. I’m scared that if I try and spray it it will crawl up into the aircon and then I’ll bloody forget and turn it on and this spider the size of an adult male’s hand will come flying out and land on my face, and possibly start devouring it.

The fear is real people.

Irrational, but real.

It is lashing rain and the river in front of

Damn, I just saw a leg twitch. Lucky I took typing at school and spider leg watching and typing blog at 70 WPM tis actually possible.

So, river is raging and if the rain keeps up then pretty soon it will be at the most gushiest and raging have ever seen it. We have heavy rain warnings in place, as well as land slips and lightening ones. Had some fabulous lightening yesterday and a huge, but quite exciting, series of thunder rolls this morning – enough to have all the kids charging into our room at five am. The heavy rain warnings will mean hub has to stay at the town office until they are lifted – which will suck monkey nuts for him as is knackered after long week last week for damn election – but I guess someone has to be on call for when vestlings ring to ask for assistance in sand bagging their front doors.

Shit, got distracted with Granny K coming in the door, home from pottery. Turned my head away for like two seconds and now there are no long black legs on the white wall… Fuck, that’s it. I’m going to have to leave this room. The deep railing goes round the entire room and tis viably possibility that spider is Mcgyvering this way as I type.



Bollocks be Gone

15 Jun

I actually wrote this post yesterday but it appears to have evaporated into the black hole of blog posts that don’t get ‘published’ – I thought WordPress automatically saved shit as you went!

Anyway, tis post about MAX getting his doggy bollocks cut off – or open or whatever it is when male dogs lose their manhood. Castrated? Spayed? Neutered? Ryu has been bitten twice now, and while I believe both were in extreme circumstances – like the time Granny K collapsed and we had the fire engine with all its sirens and lights, followed in quick succession by the ambulance with all IT’S sirens and lights, followed in even quicker succession by the neighborhood vestlings – with all their bloody sirens and lights and god damn, tis no wonder the dog was in a panic. Hub said if he bit anyone again he was taking him to the mountains somewhere – where he would definitely have survived for ever and quite possibly found his way straight back home, or perhaps he’d meet up with a lone 7-year-old and they’d become mountain friends or something.

We arrived at the scheduled time of 10am on Monday and the vet automatically got me to put him on the examining table so he could put a drip line in for the anaesthetic. Holy shit. MAX wasn’t having a bar of it despite being held rather firmly against my heaving bosom, so the doc gave him a shot to calm him down. We had to wait in the waiting room for ten minutes while it took effect and the dog got droopier and sleepier. He was so desperate to try and beat the drugs that at one point he went from sitting to almost planking like a legend before softly hitting the deck.

Took him back on to the examination table where doc put the drip line in and gave him a couple of shots for pain and antibiotics. He then carried MAX, who was at this stage completely out cold for the count, into the operating room, after which a nurse came out and said I could come back at 4pm to collect him.

So I dossed around meeting a friend for lunch, shopping for Shou’s birthday and wondering if there was something I could buy myself to compensate for impending doom of turning 40 on Friday. We share a fuckin birthday – and no, being in labour and pushing a big head out the saloon doors on my 30th birthday was  not the best fuckin present in the world. It quite obviously has resulted in me sharing a birthday with him (read as organizing kids’ birthday parties and molding jet airplanes out of fondant) every fricken year thereafter. I may also be feeling sorry for self because 40 is not a party celebration in Japan and the chances of my friends organizing something are zero to nil. 40 really just seems to be a year we get encouraged to start going for annual mammograms – which in itself is almost as traumatic as turning 40 as have such big boobs that they fall over side of machine and have to do two squashes for each boob multiplied by up, down and sideways.

But as you can see, I digress, quite spectacularly. This post is about the dog. (note to self – stop being a sour bitch about the whole 40 thing. You have had several birthday packages from NZ, including bubbles, chocolate, jewelry, lotions and potions, vegemite and gravy mixes – all of which I would pay for in their weight in gold. Have fabulous friends both here and everywhere else and tis not Japanese friends’ fault that they don’t know about the 40-equals-huge-party culture we have)

So, back to MAX. I go and pick him up at 4pm and get shown to the back room with the recovery cages, where he is looking extremely sorry for himself, albeit with a recovery plastic cone thing around his neck to stop him from licking his balls. The doc tells me to take it off and put his lead on. Max is not liking me but remembers that I’m the one that feeds him, walks him and gives him all the love so is at odds as to how to behave. Factor in the drugs still working and he was a very bizarre dog.

We drive the hour home and then I open his cage and let him out the back of the car – only we both didn’t think he wouldn’t make the 50cm jump. Oops and ouch. Shakey legs still in play😦 I get him settled into his house and apologise for getting his balls cut open. Hub comes home after work and has a man-to-man with him, sympathizing about what it must be like to lose all of your manlihood… I even hear him tell the dog it bloody sucks that he can’t get off anymore… SIGH.

MAX isn’t allowed anything to eat the day of the op but the next morning I am to give some breakfast, but if he doesn’t eat it I have to take him BACK to the vets for a drip – hence why the vet left the drip line in his leg and taped with multiple amounts of medical tape. I have been told that if he eats breakfast then I am to, myself, on my own, carry out the medical procedure of untaping the tape and slowly then pulling the drip line out and applying ten seconds of pressure to stop bleeding. The doc must think I am a very capable person – that or he knows the 3 hour round trip is a hassel for something I could ‘probably’ do myself.

So anyway, he scoffs breakfast like I haven’t been feeding him for bloody weeks.

And so I am left with the aforementioned task – only the drugs have completely worn off and MAX doesn’t want me touching his leg.

Well, thank god I got up at 5am cause it took me a good 45 minutes to coax, slash brush, slash coo sweet nothings into his ear whilst trying to find the start of the tape – which the doc had conveniently made on the outside of the leg – only to have the bloody needle on the inside. Jeeze. What a fuckin huuha. I end up having to use the small tape scissors hub keeps in his box of medical shit under the table – to cut the tap and slowly pull it off and around, whilst giving MAX aforementioned massage and telling him everything will be OK.

Then a bloody child wakes up and ninjas downstairs and opens the kitchen door – scares the fuckin bejesus out of me, during which I rip the rest of the tape off – and along with it the needle. Medical procedure finished!! MAX and I are both a bit shocked but hey, it’s over, so I give him some more of the gourmet dog food he had for breakfast, and which I bought out of pure guilt, and tell him to chill for the day. I can’t take him for walks that are more than the short pee and poo drops for three days.

I get the tape cutting scissors inside and sterilised in boiling water and back in hub’s medical box before he wakes up – totally winning I am.

I then have a coffee and think fuck, what am I going to do all day? Taking the dog to the vets for a drip or taking the needle out of his leg were the ONLY things on my not-normal-housewife-shit list for the day and I’ve finished it – by 6am!!

So I get the kids off to school and then drive to the ocean to have another coffee and little cry. The days before my birthday are always hard as obviously birthdays shouldn’t be about us (I know. Pot. Kettle. Black) but about the horendous (or for a fortunate few a beautiful experience while bathing in birthing pool and listening to whale music) task of birthing us!!

Yay mum. Love you.

Sweet dreams, good health and quiet living.


Mountain Boy Update

6 Jun

For people still interested in this story, a story which made the news in 30 countries!!! Bloody hell.

The boy is expected to hopefully be released from hospital today.

It turns out that a lot of factors were at play to help this story have the happy ending that it did.

He was crying when he got dropped back off and said he thought he was going on the road his father’s car had driven down. He thought he was running after them – but through the tears and panic he took the wrong road. Obviously this is both extremely unlucky, in that if he had taken the correct (of three) roads he would have indeed been reunited with his family in less than a couple of minutes, but also lucky in that he stayed on a road and a road, no less, that lead him to a Self Defense Force bunkhouse.

He kept walking for TEN km it turns out, making a few more road turn decisions along the way. His parents dropped him off at 5:30 and by the time he reached the bunkhouse it was pitch black. He tried one of the doors to the bunkhouse and it was open! Inside were a pile of old mattresses, two of which he got down and slept between like a McGyver sandwich. There was a tap outside that wasn’t turned on so he turned it on at the main first. He had water for 6 days but not a single thing to eat in the 135 hours he was missing. No wonder there is a photo of him scoffing down the rice ball the SDF dude gave him.

They reckon he was physically able to walk as far and survive for so long without food because of the fact he walks 40 minutes every morning to school. This isn’t uncommon here. I drop my 3 off at 7:20 and they are joined by four other kids who then all spend about 30 minutes walking the 2km to school every day.

The news showed the dad giving a very heartfelt interview from the hospital, during which he said the first thing he did was say how sorry he was, to which his son replied ‘it’s ok dad, you’re kind so I’ll forgive you’ (優しいからゆるすよ!)

The police have reported him to child protective services but it is unclear whether anything will come of that. I doubt it though and, as the news reporter said this morning, the father has been punished enough surely…. I’m sure there are personal opinions on this but I tend to agree.

It turns out that about a week earlier a 20 something year old mother dropped her 7-year-old on a mountain road in Ishikawa prefecture (mainland Japan) because he wouldn’t do his homework. He was missing for 2 hours before they found him. This also got reported to child protective services. I can understand her homework frustration however. Ryu (7 tomorrow) gets three pages of Japanese, a page of math and reading every day, with a picture and diary he was to write on weekends. He is pretty good at just getting down and doing it. Shou however, jeeze, for the love of bloody god – trying to get him to finish his homework when he was in first grade was like pulling teeth. perseverance however, and I’m sure a couple of threats of trips to the mountains, and he is now, in 4th grade, very good at getting it all done.

So, that’s the update.

Right, off to do my Monday house wifey duties before heading to the city to do daughter-in-law duties by visiting Granny K, before shopping for 7-year-old birthday prezzies.



Mrs D Is Going Without

Too much wine in rural Japan


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