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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.
Mar 16 '11
Daikichi, my local izakaya bar in Toki-shi. I loved this place. They did amazing chicken cheese (“chikkin chyeezu”) which was just hunks of chicken on a stick, grilled with cheese on top and some mysterious browny-red sauce. It was amazing. Amazing despite the fact that the guy behind the bar cooked them right there, fanning them with a big fan, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, ash dropping into the grill. Hell, maybe that’s why it tasted so good.
One time I was with a couple of friends at the karaoke place down the road. The three of us were chucked out at 1.00 am. Someone suggested we go to Daikichi and carry on drinking pints of Asahi Super Dry and sweet, fruity Chuhais. Would it still be open, I asked. Maybe, they said. Daikichi doesn’t have a closing time. The guys who work there stay open so long as there’s customers. A few minutes later we had drinks in front of us and were waiting for our bacon-wrapped asparagus.
The walls were covered in posters advertising big local wrestling events. One of them featured a weird-looking guy in a kind of black rubber face mask. He was apparently one of the locals.
God, I miss that place.

Daikichi, my local izakaya bar in Toki-shi. I loved this place. They did amazing chicken cheese (“chikkin chyeezu”) which was just hunks of chicken on a stick, grilled with cheese on top and some mysterious browny-red sauce. It was amazing. Amazing despite the fact that the guy behind the bar cooked them right there, fanning them with a big fan, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, ash dropping into the grill. Hell, maybe that’s why it tasted so good.

One time I was with a couple of friends at the karaoke place down the road. The three of us were chucked out at 1.00 am. Someone suggested we go to Daikichi and carry on drinking pints of Asahi Super Dry and sweet, fruity Chuhais. Would it still be open, I asked. Maybe, they said. Daikichi doesn’t have a closing time. The guys who work there stay open so long as there’s customers. A few minutes later we had drinks in front of us and were waiting for our bacon-wrapped asparagus.

The walls were covered in posters advertising big local wrestling events. One of them featured a weird-looking guy in a kind of black rubber face mask. He was apparently one of the locals.

God, I miss that place.

  1. fuiru posted this