Not quite the Life of Riley

This past week has been tumul­tuous. Our hol­i­day plans, three weeks in Japan, have been thrown into dis­ar­ray as a 9.0 mag­ni­tude earth­quake and tsunami struck north-eastern Japan. Of course, our hol­i­day is triv­ial com­pared to the destruc­tion and dev­as­ta­tion caused by the nat­ural dis­as­ter. And it’s some­thing that presses on us heav­ily, as we bemoan our bad for­tune, we’re sin­cerely lucky to not be, or have loved ones, caught up in the tragedy.

We’re not plan­ning to be in Japan until 5 weeks from the day the earth­quake hit, and we’re not vis­it­ing the north east. But now the FCO is advis­ing against non-essential travel to Tokyo, until that restraint is lifted, our insur­ance is invalid and we’ll be forced to can­cel. The kicker, our insur­ance won’t pay­out for can­cel­la­tion of a trip on the rec­om­men­da­tion of the FCO, even though this advice ren­ders the trip impos­si­ble by the terms of the insurance.

Air­line tick­ets are non-transferable and non-refundable, and Ali­talia aren’t offer­ing us a refund on flights. An option to rebook or reroute is an alter­na­tive, but we’d need to com­plete our travel before the end of May, which really isn’t enough time to plan and book another extrav­a­gant hol­i­day some­where else far-away.

This week Saman­tha also had her finals, the last exams of her mas­ters; cocoon­ing her­self and avoid­ing all Japan news, she had to buckle down and study. But that’s all over now, and after ten weeks of being a stu­dent, she’s back home and we’re your aver­age mar­ried cou­ple again. Although Sam is yet to fully recover from the exams or the nights out drink­ing in celebration.

On Fri­day we had tick­ets for “Life of Riley”, a new Ayck­bourn play, at Brighton The­atre. On a fri­day night the place was two thirds empty and the audi­ence an aver­age thirty years older than us. Local the­atre really is no com­par­i­son to the West End. The pro­duc­tion had its moments, and you could see the old flares of genius, but all in all it was tired, aver­age and poor. And as the lights and music were fad­ing out at the end of the play, the Pink Floyd track abruptly cut out and the lights flick­ered on and off. Our pro­gramme is lost some­where in the stalls.

Sat­ur­day took us into Lon­don, for a friend’s 30th birth­day, the first 30th we’ve been to, and I’m sure the first of many. We made a day of it, and wan­dered around South­bank, the Lon­don Eye, Houses of Par­lia­ment and St. James’ park, in the glo­ri­ous sun­shine, it felt like sum­mer had come early. We played with the set­tings on the DSLR cam­era, and watched the pel­i­cans at St. James’ being fed whole fish, into their chop-stick like beaks. We lunched at Hum­mus Bros., did a spot of last minute shop­ping and had a long rest in comfy leather chairs in a Nero cof­fee shop.

The meal was at Donzoko’s, around the back of Ham­leys. We were down­stairs in a cold room to our­selves, perched on stools with cheap dis­pos­able chop­sticks. Between 16 of us we shared sushi, chicken and salmon teriyaki, a delight­ful aubergine dish and some tem­pura veg­eta­bles. Cold sake for every­one before a quick drink at a hawai­ian bar nearby, then, as per usual, a dash to Vic­to­ria sta­tion to make sure we caught the last train at 00:05 am.

The train home was event­ful. A seat had been smoth­ered in diges­tive bis­cuits and con­ver­sa­tion with a group of drunk but not rowdy twenty-somethings revolved around the con­spir­acy. One fella, a guy that had ear­lier been mugged by a girl, was sure they were Wotsits.

Sun­day was again stress­ful, as we held a cri­sis meet­ing to work out what to do with our hol­i­day. This week we’ll cross our fin­gers and hope that the nuclear sit­u­a­tion is resolved, the FCO advice lifted and a sense of nor­mal­ity returns to Tokyo, in hope that our hol­i­day can be salvaged.