Thirty minutes into the rain. A combination of heavy winds, and at intervals a far less aggressive breeze which, I should add, is just as deadly cold as the rougher ones leave me in a rather battered mood. Worst still, the train station is another five minute walk and my bags feel a little waterlogged. Not good then. At this point my main concern isn\u2019t my own health, but rather my Laptop.<\/p>\n
I reach the train station and drop my things; under my breath I whisper \u201cgood job\u201d though I can tell you, it didn\u2019t feel like it. I wipe the rain off my face with soaked hands and wonder what the hell to do next. You see, I rarely use public transport and will often avoid it like the plague. If I can walk it, that\u2019s what I\u2019ll do. It\u2019s not so much the people I can\u2019t stand; they\u2019re just trying to get from \u2013A\u2019 to \u2013B\u2019. My problem lies solely on the transport system. With trains in particular, routes are often overly complicated with so many ridiculous changeovers it should be illegal. Secondly, whenever you think you\u2019ve arrived to catch your train cleverly early you\u2019re either too early or not early enough. Let\u2019s just say I\u2019ve yet to find a person who tells me they\u2019ve found that happy medium. It figures then, that we\u2019re all hopeless at being \u2013on time\u2019. I simply shrug and say \u201cIt\u2019s the trains that are never on time\u201d. Though a close friend of mine adept at travelling would, I\u2019m sure, correct me by saying \u201cwell who\u2019s responsible for the trains?\u201d he wouldn\u2019t be wrong there. I shouldn\u2019t blame the trains, instead the people behind them. As far as I\u2019m concerned though, it\u2019s the same difference.<\/p>\n
I proceed to the ticket counter and ask for a train pass that will serve my needs. Hopelessly I ask for the wrong thing entirely, and am quickly corrected that I need a saver-return ticket to Shrewsbury. \u201cTwenty pounds\u201d the woman says. I grab my wallet and hand her the correct amount. \u201cShe might as well rob me\u201d is what I\u2019m thinking, were trains always this expensive? Since I\u2019m about 50 minutes too early, yep, that happy medium seems way off, I go to the seating area and wait out my time. A pretty lady or two walk by and take a seat. Whenever I have to sit around for long periods seldom of company I sometimes start small-talk with strangers to pass the time. Though I\u2019m rather shy, when you\u2019re bored out of your brains you\u2019ll be surprised at what one can do, or what one thinks he can do. Looking like a battered war-veteran for the loosing side however, I decide it wouldn\u2019t be in my best interests to ask a pretty lady \u201cIs this seat taken\u201d so I simply sit around in my damp clothes shivering my ass off.<\/p>\n
My train number is finally up and I casually walk to the platform to catch it. I suddenly realise how rude everyone is. Maybe it\u2019s not just the system that bothers me after all; maybe it\u2019s the people using it to. As the doors open to let the passengers out there is no hint of give and take, pass and receive. The current is all one way I\u2019m afraid. People trying to get off don\u2019t stand a chance. Everyone hurry\u2019s onboard without even thinking of letting anyone off. I quietly take a few steps back and let them get on with their thing. I must say that watching their etiquette for such matters was rather amusing, but at the same time sad and disappointing. \u201cThe train won\u2019t reach its destination any faster\u201d is what I wanted to shout. I finally hop on to find empty seats abound. The train waits a further 5 minutes for any late arrivals and then takes off.<\/p>\n
I have plenty of time to kill here. Something I\u2019ll be exacting in 1.30 hours on yet another train. Its 5 o\u2019clock in the evening, so I figure that staring out into the distance to watch the buttons of light that come off the big city around me would pass the time. No luck however, as the light inside these carriages are bright to the point of unbearable. I guess my reflection will have to do then.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m finally at my next stop, the midway point in my journey home. The only things concluded from staring at myself for over an hour is that a) I need a shave and b) I could do with some new clothes. 10 minutes are spent desperately trying to figure out which platform I need to be on. All I have with me are the departure times. With a little bit of searching and a lot of standing in people\u2019s way I finally get there, just. What started as a walk turned into a casual jog, which ultimately turned into a sprint to the finish. When a train starts to move you know you\u2019re on tenterhooks. It\u2019s impossible to run with heavy bags in a fashion that looks cool and I\u2019m sure I didn\u2019t win any points for style from the onlookers. But at the time it didn\u2019t really matter. All that did was getting home for the week.<\/p>\n
I know what you may be thinking, why didn\u2019t I bring my mp3 player to listen to? Or some books? When I was halfway to the first station I was hit by a vision. It was of my Mp3 player bag sitting on my bed ready to be packed, which subsequently wasn\u2019t. As for the books, I did bring a few reads for the ride but found I was too tired and warn out to do anything about them.<\/p>\n
So now I\u2019m doing the same thing I had been doing before. Sitting on a busier train this time thinking about all the J-pop\/rock I could have been listening to. At this point I feel rather dejected. I\u2019m wet, unshaven, tired with a host of other more important worries on my mind. I did find some joy though. A women sitting to the left of me had clearly done what a lot of women do when travelling. She had packed a horde of her personal belongings into not one or two good sized bags, but rather many small ones (I don\u2019t mean to sound sexist, it\u2019s just an observation). In front of her was a compartment to store such Items that would otherwise get in the way. As she opened it up to place in her belongings a thought popped into my head \u201cMari would fit into there\u201d I quietly joked; thinking about Mari Yaguchi<\/strong> formerly of Hello! Project<\/strong> of course. I childishly looked at one of my own bags afterwards \u201cwhat am I thinking, she\u2019s not that small\u201d I said. About half an hour to go I decided to just sit it out uniformly, which of course meant shuffling every five minutes trying to find the optimum sitting position. I never found it by the way. Maybe it\u2019s something to do on the way back.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m home\u201d I thought when exiting the train for the last time ever, well, sadly not but at least I\u2019d have the week to recover. I put on a brave face and walked outside into the car park looking for a green car with my mother in the driving seat. If she saw how I was really feeling, she\u2019d think I\u2019d just murdered someone. She wouldn\u2019t be far off either, I felt like I had tortured myself for no apparent reason the last 4 hours. I searched around and finally found her. I waved with a smile and entered the car. We said our hellos, made some small talk and proceeded to the exit. You\u2019ll be surprised, or maybe not? Drivers rarely care about other drivers when trying to get out of the hustle and bustle of traffic. This may just be how things are done but my mother although not a great driver is an honest one, maybe too honest. As a car quickly and dangerously tried to cut us off to get ahead I said to her \u201cYou should beep the horn at him\u201d. My mum simply replied \u201cI\u2019ve been in worse situations before and not beeped\u201d It\u2019s just how she is.<\/p>\n Rooting around the car for something to put on, the radio rarely holds my interest; I remembered a cassette tape I had cleverly planted in the glove compartment some 2 months ago. A cassette I would soon cherish with all the warmth in my heart that clearly, was exhausted out of me within the day. Still, there was a little bit of happiness left in me. And it was about to be unleashed upon the world, or should I say, upon my mother in the most liberating fashion I could possibly muster up at the time. As mentioned, 2 months ago I left for university for the first term of my second year and I had made a mix tape to play on the 2.30hr drive it usually takes. Anyway back to my liberation. I picked up the tape that nestled neatly in a messy glove compartment and placed it in the radio lovingly, turning up the volume carelessly. I then sat back and waited.<\/p>\n Hitomi Yaida\u2019s<\/strong> \u2013Kodoku Na Cowboy\u2019<\/strong> from the brilliant album \u2013Air\/Cook\/Sky\u2019<\/strong> began roaring out of the humble car speakers. I was finally free from the pitfalls of public transport and immersed in what I consider to be, the best representation of modern J-pop\/rock that I have ever had the pleasure of hearing. Hitomi Yaida takes J-pop by the ears, turns it on its head and does whatever she wants with it. The results are almost always breathtaking. Without straying too far from the safety of popular convention, Yaiko, as she is often called will consistently create something regular enough to be accepted, but utterly layered with individual touches and nuances of bright intervention. J-pop for me has never been so interesting. After the hypnotic \u2013Kodoku Na Cowboy\u2019 played out it\u2019s fair \u2013Go My Way\u2019<\/strong> had its turn. A recent single of Hitomi Yaida\u2019s and one of her strongest efforts to date, this is what happens when the rock mentality of her guitar successfully merges with the limitations of pop. The orchestral parts are warmly welcomed and thankfully Yaiko knows how to keep up with tradition without sounding old.<\/p>\n The next song however, this is probably what scared my mum. \u2013All for one and one for all\u2019<\/strong> kicked in. If I ever needed an anthem to carry me home, this was most definitely it. I turned the volume up even louder and yep, sang my bloody heart out. It turns out that when I\u2019ve had a really rough day, I seriously don\u2019t care what I do. Like the Japanese, work hard but play even harder. I was beginning to get it now. A crazy day manifests itself inside of you, and well, a tendency to go crazy yourself is highly possible and very rewarding. Without the Karaoke machine and the crowd of drunken on lookers, I guess my mum and the cassette box in my hand would make do, I sang with a smile on my face and a passion that was frankly scary. My mother looked at me a few times, thought about turning the volume down, but could see I was enjoying myself and let it be. I couldn\u2019t tell whether it was my bad Japanese, my equally bad singing or just me in general, but my mum was left speechless through it all. After the song finished I turned down the volume and apologized. She smiled and said \u201cIts ok, do you want to get some fast food?\u201d though fast food isn\u2019t exactly my cup of tea it was certainly welcome. I smiled back and replied \u201cyeah that would be good\u201d. \u2013Yume No Naka\u2019<\/strong> was the next track, a rather fitting slower Morning Musume<\/strong> song that along with \u2013Renai Revolution\u2019, \u2013The Peace\u2019, \u2013Love Machine\u2019, \u2013As for one day\u2019 and \u2013Usotsuki Anata\u2019<\/strong> soundtracked the rest of my car ride home. I felt like I had travelled all this way, gone through all this frustration, just so I could sit in this car with my mother, get some terrible fast food and listen to some of my favourite J-pop music. In the end was it worth it? Yes it was. The journey was tiresome beyond belief but the liberation was, liberating.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Thirty minutes into the rain. 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