You would think that I would remember that I'm supposed to move out of my flat in two weeks. And that I'm moving out of the country three weeks after that. But this morning, in the shower, I suddenly remembered: I'm moving next weekend. Not some indeterminate time in the future. Not a couple of months from now. Next weekend. Everything has to be packed into boxes, furniture disassembled, rubbish thrown out, skirting boards dusted. Freezer defrosted. Next weekend.
Somehow, I'd forgotten about this. Of course I knew in the abstract, but it wasn't in the forefront of my mind. I've been getting on with work and projects and dealing with various things that have cropped up. So I've sort of surprised myself. You have masses to do and you aren't prepared at all! SURPRISE!
There's also the small matter of not having anywhere to live when I get to the Netherlands. The university very kindly offered to set me up with housing, and then very unkindly retracted that offer. I've been handed the unfortunate task of having to flat-hunt online, without ever getting to see the place in question, and wondering if a) I'm ever going to find somewhere and b) if, when I finally get the flat, it's going to smell of cigarettes and sulphur, and have a floor that's actually just painted dirt. You never know until you see somewhere in person, do you?
So, yes. I am panicking. Just a little.
Sunday 23 July 2017
Saturday 1 July 2017
Please watch Samurai Gourmet
If you have Netflix, you need to be watching Samurai Gourmet.
If you don't know what this show is, I will explain the premise. A Japanese man retires and doesn't know what to do with his life. He spends his time going to restaurants. He eats the food and enjoys it. Sometimes it reminds him of some food he ate a long time ago. Sometimes, someone in the restaurant is obnoxious, and he fantasizes that a samurai will come and threaten them. He is perpetually socially anxious and amazed at the fact that he has free time now and can go to restaurants and drink beer whenever he wants. Then he goes home to his wife. This is literally the entire show.
It is my favourite thing right now.
It combines two stalwarts of Japanese television culture: food, and low-stakes appreciation. There is no need to think about destruction, or fear, or difficult decisions. There are no explosions, and not really much in the way of belly-laughs either. Instead, you are treated to twenty minutes of the protagonist musing on the minutiae of life, etiquette and enjoyment. A lunchtime beer is savoured; its colour in the sunlight, the thickness of the foam (naturally, being a Japanese beer, it is served with a head that would get the barman glassed in England). A simple plate of spaghetti or grilled chicken triggers a pleasant memory, and makes him wonder briefly about people and establishments from his youth. This is all the tension you need to make you keep watching. I think it's telling that I'm more addicted to this than to the new season of Orange is the New Black, which features a prison riot, and yet doesn't have half the power to draw me in as Samurai Gourmet.
I would implore you to give it a go.
If you don't know what this show is, I will explain the premise. A Japanese man retires and doesn't know what to do with his life. He spends his time going to restaurants. He eats the food and enjoys it. Sometimes it reminds him of some food he ate a long time ago. Sometimes, someone in the restaurant is obnoxious, and he fantasizes that a samurai will come and threaten them. He is perpetually socially anxious and amazed at the fact that he has free time now and can go to restaurants and drink beer whenever he wants. Then he goes home to his wife. This is literally the entire show.
It is my favourite thing right now.
It combines two stalwarts of Japanese television culture: food, and low-stakes appreciation. There is no need to think about destruction, or fear, or difficult decisions. There are no explosions, and not really much in the way of belly-laughs either. Instead, you are treated to twenty minutes of the protagonist musing on the minutiae of life, etiquette and enjoyment. A lunchtime beer is savoured; its colour in the sunlight, the thickness of the foam (naturally, being a Japanese beer, it is served with a head that would get the barman glassed in England). A simple plate of spaghetti or grilled chicken triggers a pleasant memory, and makes him wonder briefly about people and establishments from his youth. This is all the tension you need to make you keep watching. I think it's telling that I'm more addicted to this than to the new season of Orange is the New Black, which features a prison riot, and yet doesn't have half the power to draw me in as Samurai Gourmet.
I would implore you to give it a go.
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