Tom's Notes—Home or Away

Not knowing where home is makes feeling homesick a confusing business.

I'm English, so you'd think England would always be "home" for me. But I never knew what I loved about England until I went to live in Japan.

Life, in practice, was better in Tokyo: customer service was excellent; there were more cafes, record stores, clothes shops and commodities from around the world, than any other place I've been; it was safe; it was affluent. But it was ugly. I'll be frank. The Japanese idea of a park is often just a tree with an uncomfortable bench next to it—some ghastly granite statue or concrete fountain put in for good measure. No pomp no majesty; nothing even close to the architectural and natural splendour citizens of London, Paris, Rome, Berlin, Barcelona, Prague, Moscow, Washington, or New York enjoy. The new the old, the natural—it was all equally hideous. I realized that a large part of life was missing for me in Japan: the aesthetic.

You can grin and bear it. I did for almost 10 years. But life becomes an empty chore.

At least, mine did. I don't think this holds for all people; take a look around you—it's obvious that aesthetics aren't everyone's top priority. Living in Japan made me realize though, they are for me.

I knew I'd get a bit more soul-food living in England. So when the chance came to go back, I grasped it. Now we're back, guess what. I miss the service, the cafes, the record shops, the clothes shops, the wealth of commodities. I miss the safety. I miss the affluence. I miss it all.

And I know what'd happen if I went back to live in Tokyo—it'd hate it all again.

It's classic case of wanting to have your cake and eat it too. Perhaps the only solution is think of "Home and Away" rather than "Home or Away." But then, I don't know which place is "home" and which is "away."

Go figure...

Tom's Notes—Truant English

Skiveing off Monday Music and regular posts thesedays... I have two words for you: World Cup.

Our national team has been following my lead. The eleven players on the pitch in England's opening two games have looked like husks of their club selves. "Phoning it in" barely suffices to describe their performances. The media, the people, the fans all ask why, why, why?

I'm one of those people who isn't really bothered why. It makes no difference this way or that. Sport is about winning—that's the only relevant point (and there's not much talking to be done about it). So there's really only one thing to be said about the game that will start in about 2 hrs: We have to win.

I've no idea how to do it, which players to pick to do it, the tactics involved, etc. That's all secondary. It could be eleven men from division 4 for all I care—they must win. Enough talk, enough analysis. Time for pure, concentrated, silent conviction. We must win.

If we don't, "Together" will return to its usual punctual self. Promise!