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Ex-Tabula Rasa

I shall try to define myself in a sentence with a pithy comment at the end:
I'm just an English bloke who lives in Canada after marrying a Canadian lady he met while living in Japan. Yeah, that old cliché.

Shameless Self-Promotion:
My utterly hilarious blog is here
And another one is here

Wow! I'm on Twitter now!
Averaging three stars a tweet since the death of Favrd!

Still Want More?
Email me for fun and frolics*! My address goes along the lines of Japanese (dot) smoth (@) gmail (dot) com. *Actual ratio of fun to frolics may vary.
Jul 28 '14

Mrs Fuiru gets Diagnosed with a Kidney Stone

"So then the doctor was pressing on my stomach and he asked me if I’d had sex in the last few days, so I said ‘yes.’

"Then he said ‘Anything remarkable?’"

"And you said ‘yes,’ right? Tell me you said ‘yes.’"

Jul 27 '14
Here’s a bit of summery adorableness.

Here’s a bit of summery adorableness.

Jul 25 '14

(via News — Coralie Bickford-Smith)

Oh my fucking god Coralie Fucking Bickford-Chuffing-Smith has a mother boffing new set out and they’re gorgeous as ass dangling fuck.


(via News — Coralie Bickford-Smith)

Oh my fucking god Coralie Fucking Bickford-Chuffing-Smith has a mother boffing new set out and they’re gorgeous as ass dangling fuck.

Jul 25 '14

Today we’re celebrating ten years since we arrived in Japan. Mrs Fuiru made tuna maki with potato croquettes and kinpira gobo (sesame coated carrot and burdock). Dessert was Pocky and Hello Panda. Audrey had her first chopsticks attempt. Fun and yay and huzzah and hatstand.

Jul 25 '14
Best drink in the goddamn world. #replacethosemotherfuckingions

Best drink in the goddamn world. #replacethosemotherfuckingions

Jul 25 '14


  • Whenever someone tells you to ‘Go fuck yourself,” stop whatever you are doing and masturbate on the spot. Document your findings.
  • Start a dream journal. Keep it symbolically blank. Show it to strangers. Do they see the symbolism? DO THEY? Document your findings.
  • NaBoMaMo: Take a month and try to make a box in that month. Tell your friends and family that you are definitely going to get that box made this month. Join a local group for box-making support and advice, spend each session unfairly critiquing famous boxes. Fall in love with one of the other NaBoMaMo participants. Lose interest in your box after a week. Promise yourself that you’ll definitely make a box next year. Document your findings.
  • Constantly ring a bicycle bell until someone complains to the police and you are deemed to be a noisy nuisance and have to pay a financial penalty. Document your fined dings.
  • Experts say if you practice a new skill every day for one hour, you will be an expert in that skill after several years. Prove them wrong.
Jul 24 '14

Ten Years Later

I remember the first time I rode on a roller coaster. It was an old, wooden contraption that sounded - and felt - like it was going to fall apart. Riding with my younger brother, I was the nervous, less confident, older kid.

As the car slowly ambled up the track towards the first - and biggest - drop, the situation made itself very clear to me. I was trapped in a small, seemingly Victorian-era vehicle with no way out except to allow myself to be shunted around a rickety track at terrifying speeds, up hills and down slopes that looked suicidal. This was not, I realised, a situation I was entirely comfortable with.

I looked over at my brother, who was smiling with excitement and anticipation. “I think,” I said, looking back up at the slowly approaching peak, “I think…I’m going to cry.” My brother merely laughed.

Several seconds later, the car pulled in and stopped, we took off our seatbelts, got out, and immediately queued up for a second ride, breathless and elated. My underwear-worrying fear had been completely forgotten in the exhilarating thrill of the ride.


Ten years ago today, I was sitting in Heathrow Airport by myself, in the jarring bustle of the waiting area across from the duty free store. Not long earlier, I had said goodbye to my parents and made my way through check-in and security. Now I was calling and texting some friends who hadn’t made it out to my leaving party the night before.

There in the airport, the enormity of the situation hit me. I was leaving my home, my family and friends, and my job, and moving across the planet to a country in whose language I could barely count to ten, let alone converse. I didn’t know anyone, and from the photos sent to me, I was moving into an apartment slightly smaller than a mailing envelope. But there was no way of getting out of it now. I was moving to Japan, and like it or not, it would be a year before I returned home.

One of my friends was away from their phone, so I had to leave them a message. I said my goodbyes, my I’ll-email-you-when-I-get-theres, and all the nerves and uncertainty hit me. I was looking up at the slowly approaching peaks and troughs, and I had no idea what was going to happen. I paused, and swallowed. “I think…I think I’m going to cry,” I said.

Jul 23 '14
Haven’t gpoywed myself for a while, so here I am.

Haven’t gpoywed myself for a while, so here I am.

Jul 19 '14
The usual member.

The usual member.

Jul 18 '14

She makes me laugh.

Last night, walking home from daycare, we were passed by an open-topped double-decker bus full of tourists, its outside painted bright red like one of its London counterparts.

"Oh my GOODNESS!" she cried from her stroller, "A firetruck! A firetruck with" - she started to giggle - "PEOPLE UP THERE!" She giggled more and more, "What people doing up there, Firetruck?"

I laughed, she laughed, the couple nearby laughed.

A house on our daily route to daycare has a small angel statue in the front garden. Throughout winter and early spring, she’d ask me to stop the stroller so she could see it. Then, as spring advanced, so did the flowers and bushes in the garden and when we stopped one day the angel was devoured by flora, away from sight.

"Where’s angel?" she asked me. I told her it was behind the bushes. "Angel is hiding," she said, thoughtfully. Then she laughed. "Silly angel!" Now every time we pass the house, we have a good laugh at the hiding angel. Sometimes she asks where the blue car is. If there’s no blue car nearby on the street, it’s hiding too. Silly blue car.

She loves trucks and Pooh Bear and fountains. She dances and jumps on the bed and sits in front of the fireplace and pretends to warm her hands. She hugs us and tells us she loves us and she does the same to Rabbit and Pyjama Bear and Plex Robot and it’s no less adorable. She recognises her name written down and can read most letters but she still gets 3 and E mixed up. She pretends to make food in the kitchen and if you ask her what she’s cooking she says “Couscous and hummus and crackers.”

It’s hard to believe we’ve known her a full two years - the length of time my wife and I spent in Japan, a length of time that felt like a lifetime.

And yet: It’s hard to believe we’ve only known her for two years, because it feels like we’ve known her forever.

Happy birthday Audrey. The last two years have been a blast, I can’t wait to see what the rest hold.