the damp

Damp is not a word I often associate with Japan. Glasgow yes, Osaka no. Okay, so August here feels like the inside of a Ugandan greenhouse, but winter is generally the exact opposite - dry to the point of walls creaking. We kind of missed out on early autumn this year instead jumping rather abruptly into a late cold, grey and dreich time of it and not being the biggest fan of the local electric heat sources, I've eschewed the heaters so far but my bloody clothes aren't drying on their own. Yesterday I took the fast train through to Tokyo and it being 12.30, the lunch boxes were broken out immediately. Good looking people ate beautiful but healthy food on the fastest train in the world and I considered I might be coming out my recent Japan slump. Despite the train being full of scowling charcoal (possibly myself included), I was beside an ageing woman who reminded me of a child riding a train in that way that the very elderly do because there's a bloody good chance it'll be their last time. She continually pointed out the colours and (very) low lying mist, which were indeed a beautiful combination. She never tired of it and I wished that I would spare more time to do the same. It rather put things in perspective. I wanted to have a deep discussion with her about life but I settled for pinning her against the window, when her daughter went to the toilet, demanding laundry tips.