For most of my professional life, my main tool has been the telephone. It rang all the time and I could get to know people all over the place, make jokes. You could not see them so you could imagine. I loved it. My phone has rung maybe 3 times in the last month. My cell rings but this is usually local like,”Where are you?”, “We are waiting for you.” and that sort of stuff. All the rest is ghastly email. I am so pleased to be in the sunset of my career. The idea of doing another 20 years of email is not acceptable.  Anyway, yesterday they came to take my phone away. Very few people have them.

A parting of friends

I have also inherited a gas BBQ. I am ambivalent as to whether this is a good thing or not. I like to light fires. However my beloved Cobbs can not stand up to the Okinawan climate and rot. I could look after them better, put them in bags, cover them, but I am not like that.

Gen san helps load it onto the truck

I love my truck

Anyway the BBQ is very new but has also been left outside for a couple of years. The paint is coming off and everything is rusted.

Blasted

I spray on 5 coats of heat proof black stuff. This is  er the second.

However it will not light. There is no gas coming through. I decide that the regulator has also been jammed up by seaweed and salt. I spend 3 hours driving around trying to buy a new one. Everyone knows where the propane shop is  – it is in Gushikawa. However I never find it. I stop and ask folks 4 times. I know left, right, numbers and such in Japanese. After each conversation, I set off full of hope but after a while I realize that I am a  dumb, illiterate and have no chance of finding a propane depot. It is depressing.

This is a regulator. Irish pipes also have regulators.

I go home and dismantle the regulator. I fiddle around and yay the gas flows through strong and clean.

New deck

I am so excited that I decide to roast a leg of lamb. I can eat it through the week, couscous, biryani, shepherd’s pie.

Great expectations

Everything goes swimmingly until some 25 minutes into the roast the gas runs out. I am left with a very sad, semi raw gigot. Oh Prometheus.