Cultural Attaché
After averaging 26 months between visits to Australia since we left, I’m about to slash my average to 19. The photographic opportunities are just too good to ignore, especially when one of my friends is willing to dress up and dance around in front of the camera like a man possessed—possessed by the spirit of matrimony.
Of course, when you’re faced with shelling out for two international airfares it helps to have work pay for half of it. And it helps even more if it’s somebody else’s work. And it helps even more if you get to swan around Tokyo doing your best Scarlett Johansson impression while the work is being done by that somebody else. Which is exactly what I’ll be doing while Jane goes to a trade fair, when we stop over in Japan on our way back from Melbourne.
Lucky for us that the two events are so perfectly timed. We weren’t sure the Oz leg would be feasible, but the UK-Singapore-Melbourne-Tokyo-UK flight turned out to cost only a little more than a return flight to Tokyo. And since not getting to go to Japan while your spouse does is grounds for a family court case, there was never any question that I would be tagging along to Japan—and now Australia, too. It’s twenty years since my only previous visit, so I’m really looking forward to it. I’ve even decorated my desktop with suitable icons.
Stand by for photos of lurid colours, neon signs, carefully raked pebbles and vending machines full of Pocari Sweat.