I Arrive In The Land Down Under

Arrived in Sydney at 7.05am on the dot. Massive immigration queue and at the end of it noone could print me off my visa because "the bloke isn't in today" . Brilliant.

A train into Sydney Central Station and then over to the impossibly huge Ernst and Young building where friend, and erstwhile London flatmate, Kristy works.

Did try to get a taxi. Stopped on and said "Ernst and Young, please".

He said "Don't know it, sorry".

I went "Look, it's there. Look. I am pointing at it now". I was pointing at a huge skyscraper with Ernst and Young on the side.

"No. Don't know it."

I turned around once more to point again in case my finger had accidentally pointed at the sun or something, but when I turned back he'd driven off and picked up someone 20 yards down the road. Tosser.

Dumped my case with Kristy. I had lugged it all the way up a grand set of stairs only to find out moments later there was an escalator at the side. It was now 9am and Kristy finished at 5.15. Hmmmm. That's a lot of time to kill.

I walked into town. First impressions of Sydney, I am unhappy to report, were rather underwhelming. It's a bit faceless; a dull promenade of dark buildings populated by Starbucks, McDonalds and the odd 7-Eleven.

However, once I'd made my way down to Circular Quay things got much better. Here you can see Sydney Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge. That was good.

Fell asleep on a piece grass. Listened to an entire series of the Ricky Gervais Podcasts. Had a pizza then an icecream. Watched some Aborigines play a didgeridoo. Then back over to Kristy's.

A fairly normal day, then.

Do Smoke On The Water....

Come Fly With Me

The QANTAS safety instructional video striked an alarmingly reproachful tone:

"Ladies and Gentlemen. There now follows a short safety demonstration. I know you're probably going to ignore it, and if you do you're an idiot.

I mean, do you know where you lifejacket is? What do you mean 'yes'? No you don't. You don't have a clue.

Where are the safety exits? This woman isn't stood here waving her arms about for a laugh you know.

What about oxygen masks? Yeah, what about them, eh? You don't give a shit do you? You're reading the inflight magazine aren't you? Trying to work out if you've got Miss Potter on this flight, or Casino Royale. You all make me sick.

In fact, just leave. Do it. Just get out."

And apart from one attractive Japanese woman, the stewardesses were the ugliest I'd ever seen. Think Gillian McKeith after a month under a sunbed. There was more leather on that plane than in a DFS warehouse.

It was also the longest bumpy flight I'd ever had. So much so that half way through the night, whilst people were all wearing their blankets, socks and eyemasks, the driver woke everybody up and asked them to put on their seatbelts.

Disconcertingly, the pilot sounded like Richie Benaud and the first officer's name was Glenn. Which is only one step away from Bruce in my book

My Friend Went To Tokyo And All He Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt

I've always wanted a t-shirt with some Japanese writing on it. Unfortunately people over there only want English on their shirts.

But under a bridge in Ueno I came across a young lad selling T-shirts with Japanese symbols on them. Casually I picked one up, hoping it didn't say "English Tosser" or something.

Good job I checked. The lad provided me with a A4 laminated sheet of translations and apparently the one I had picked said "I am a foolish man". Hastily I chose another only to discover that it said "I am an idle man".

I settled on one which says "Yamato Damashi" or "Spirit of Japan". This pleased the man at the passport desk in Narita who, on seeing my T-Shirt, livened up no end.

"Haaaaaaa! Yamato Damashi" he said pointing like a madman. I think I made his day.

Return To Tokyo

My stay in Tokyo was a blur really.

I received a free upgrade from BA to World Traveller class, half way between economy and club. But, saw no difference at all. If I'd paid extra money for an upgrade I would have been sorely disappointed.

Arrived in Tokyo with monumental jetlag. Worst I've ever had. Met with Helmut who took me to his flat in Ueno. Met with Eli and walked round Ueno Park to see the cherry blossom and the over to Sendagi to see Dave.

However by this time I was so tired my lolling head and drooping eyelids were an embarrassment and I made my excuses pretty early and left. Sorry Dave!

Also met a guy called Scott who replaced me as teacher and also, it turns out, lives in my old tin can house in Akabane.

"Did you try the electric ring?" I asked

"Yeah" he said "it took me 35 minutes to boil a pan of water"

Haggis

Farewell drinks for me on the Monday. Went to Albannach. Posh Scottish bar. They do venison sausage in honey and haggis samosas.

Roll call was me, Andy, Louisa, Paul, Yori, Kingo, Nicole, Steve, Daisy, Ambrose and Chris.

I have only met some of these people before.

Got Your Number

The next night was one of my best friend's, (George) stag do.

Still reeling with a hangover from last nights session, I made my way down to London and to former flatmate Andy's brand spanking new house. He now lives with someone called Phil. Is there something he's not telling me?

Out in the evening to the stag do. George dressed up as the bloke from the 118 118 ads with white vest and drooping tache. Ran into some slappers on a birthday party. Best man, Giacomo, was in there like a dirty rat up a very dirty drainpipe.

Finished the evening by drawing beards on each other with big marker pen. Realised about 10 minutes later that if it didn't come off, I was going to have a difficult time in customs.

I gave Giacomo a Scarlett Pimpernell/dastardly cad twirly tache and he gave me a George Michael in the toilet

How Low Is A Chinaman

My departure from The Midlands began with a drunken Chinaman.

Ying-ki, one of my oldest friends, and son of the owner of the second best Chinese restaurant in Uttoxeter, decided we should celebrate my leaving with a drink and a curry.

Imagine my horror, then, when by 9.40, despite us leaving the house at 7.30, Ying-ki was so pissed he'd stopped making sense:

"If you....put the cheese....where's my shelf......fucking......stop laughing!......I want socks for Tango...any kettle...any kettle will do as long as its.......and there were these wasps...get me some wasps"

Upon my request "Mate, we HAVE to go", he stood up, swayed for a second, looked confused like someone had asked him to divide 22 by 7 and then toppled perfectly like a felled telegraph poll between two tables.

"I'm so sorry" I said to the bloke on one of the tables, tugging at Ying-Ki's dead weight .

"Is that Ying-Ki from the Capital Chinese Restaurant?" he said

"Yes" I replied

" I hope he's not cooking my fucking chow mein tonight" he said.

On the way home, Ying-ki had sobered enough to conclude "I've made a twat of myself" and then proceeded to be sick all down his own fence.

And I never got a curry out of him.

I've Arrived....

..and to prove it, here's a photo of one of the locals I took earlier on today.

Fourth Bruce: New-Bruce will be teaching political science, Machiavelli, Bentham, Locke,

Hobbes, Sutcliffe, Bradman, Lindwall, Miller, Hassett, and Benaud.

Second Bruce: Those are all cricketers!

Fourth Bruce: Aww, spit!

Quick Update

Right.

No time for wit this time (nor last time, I hear some of you cry).

This tinternet cafe is costing me a fortune, so I will be brief.

Here's a bulletpoint style update:

* BA were as mediocre as always - two hours late taking off, poor selection of TV and film, fugly stewardesses. Food weren't bad though

* Staying in Ueno with Helmut. Flat v rustic, even though in the city. Built just after massive Tokyo earthquake of 1923. Resembles Soviet towerblock.

* Raging jetlag. Using sleepmask from plane during day. Woke up at 4am and went to buy KitKat from 24hr shop. Forgot had sleep mask on head. Got funny looks.

* It is blossom season in Japan. Ueno Park is in full bloom. Looks great. There is also a festival in the park check out photos below

Will update later

Blossom...There's A Lot Of It

Count the petals....1...2...3... oh hang on, start again....

It Doesn't Get Anymore Japanese Than This......

.... a woman taking a photos of the blossom with her hi-tech phone

Actually, it could get more Japanese than this....if she then accused a Samurai of dishonouring her family, challenged him to a fight, but called in Godzilla to help her out whilst she ate some sushi and played on her Nintendo whilst wearing a kimono.....now that would be more Japanese.

Blossom In Ueno Park

Temple In Ueno Park

Akira Kurosawa not in shot.

Doctor Octopus

This man shouts "Octopus...get your lovely octopus"

In Japanese obviously

In England, on sticks, we put Mivvies, Funny Feet, Twister, Mini Milk and sometimes at a push the odd toffee apple.

In Japan, they put fish on sticks. Imagine buying one of these from the icecream van.

Mmmm.......fishy

Oi Mate, Do Smoke On The Water

Note: picture is on its side because I don't know the Japanese character for "rotate".

Pack It In

Currently my Mum is packing my suitcase. She’s getting a bit carried away. This is what she has packed:

Pants
Socks
Shirts
Shorts
Jeans
Towel
Sponge
Back-up sponge
Toothbrush
Toothpaste
Back-up toothpaste
Back-up toothbrush
Secondary emergency sponge
Shower gel
Reserve shower gel
Sewing kit
Shoes
Shoe polishing kit
Fall-back shoe polishing kit
Emergency sewing kit (in case of emergency break glass if needed)
Tub of E45 cream
Tube of E45 cream (2-for-1 offer at Superdrug)
Emergency pants
Nivea Cream
Back-up replica suitcase containing exact copy of items in first suitcase.


My luggage limit is 23kg. Might have to rethink this.

Ozzy Oz Bound

Hilarious.

Anyway, what’s Australia really like? Don’t know. In a bid to answer this question, I decided to do an Oz-themed brainstorm.

Actually we are now supposed to use the term Thought Shower. The term brainstorm is banned as it offensive to epileptics. Well, so is Jim Davidson, but no one has got round to banning him yet.

Here are some things that come to mind when I think of Australia:

Fosters
People called Bruce
Big spiders
Harold Bishop
Convicts
Nicole Kidman
Places with names like “Woolooboolawangarungi”


As you can see, I am hoping to broaden my cultural understanding of Australia.


I arrive in Sydney at 7.05 in the morning, but seeing as my Australian friend Kristy doesn’t finish work until 5.15 I am going to have some time to kill. Any ideas?

Incidentally, when Kristy and I lived together in London, Andy and I forcibly made her watch the Monty Python Philosophers Sketch.

She sat through the whole thing stony-faced. “Bruce, this is Bruce”. - nothing, no reaction. “Rule One…No Poofters….Rule Two….No mistreating the Abbos”. Again, nothing.

At the end, she turned to me and Andy, who were in stitches, and announced, as if delivering the final verdict: “This is not funny”.

Doesn't bode well.

Gaijin and Tonic

Right. This is the plan.

Down to London on 24th March. Fly-out to Tokyo 27th, stay for a few days, and then down to Oz, arriving in Sydney on the 2nd April at 7.05am.

I am hoping the residents of Tokyo will welcome me back with open arms like some kind of gaijin prodigal son. “Oh Fideep-san, we have missed your unironed shirts and singular wit”, but somehow I doubt it.

Having had time to reflect on my previous trip, apart from the all-pervading monstrous carbuncle that polluted and poisoned every aspect of my life, (I mean Shane – not my burger curry diet), Japan was mind-blowing.

In so many ways it’s the model country: kind, polite, clean and efficient. Now if I could just get a job over there utilising my extensive sitcom knowledge my life would be complete.

I will be happy to return.

Australia

Watch this space. I am going to Australia.

Hope it works out better than Japan.

Either way, more posts are on the imminent, so I hope you will all join me for the second leg of my journey.

Who knows, maybe I'll be home in 4 months. Maybe I'll miss my bed. Maybe I'll miss British food. They might not do Bachelor's Super Noodles in Sydney. Imagine that.