On the Monday after the masturi we took ourselves off to the bright lights of big city Sapporo to see the circus. Now, I haven't been to the circus in decades, generations even. I think the last time I was inside the big top was back when we were still living in Dundrum and Fossets set up their tent in the field up the road from our house.
Though I could well be mistaken. When you get to 43 you increasingly find that memory has to be negotiated rather than merely recalled.
Anyway, this summer Sapporo is hosting the Kinoshita Circus. They haven't been back to Hokkaido in 89 years. 89 years! You'd have to wonder why - was it something we said?
So, nearly nine decades, a world war, 51 prime ministers and 27 Godzilla movies later, they have returned.
In triumph.
To be honest we all enjoyed it, though in a somewhat descending scale of satisfaction. First Sanae, next me, and then Cian who was pretty happy until the lions and elephants left and they started d'auld spangly costumed, glittery hair trapeze shite. The most spangly and glittering of the lot of them was stripped to the waist and by my Roman Catholic estimation, spent most of his time swinging at and in bars. This didn't stop Sanae from embarrassing me and Cian by 'oohing' and 'aahing' like a star-struck teenager. I pointed out that I often go stripped to the waist, particularly with the muggy summer we're having this year, but all that elicits from the woman is a sharp 'For buddha's sake, put your shirt back on before you frighten the neighbours'!
(As a flocculent aside, I am suffering something terrible with the humidity this year. My body's ongoing Darwinian response to the harsh Hokkaido winters is making my life hell in the equally harsh and sweltering Hokkaido summers. You try walking around with this
in the 30 degree heat like we experienced today. Sure it looks good (and yes ladies, feels even better), but imagine you are wearing one of Des Kelly's finest Berber carpets around your body in mid summer and you'll begin to get an sweaty idea of where I'm coming from. Whereas in the more traditional 'Stans of Central Asia I would be rightly revered as the hirsute love god that I truly am, in Japan people usually mistake me for a bear and make panicked phonecalls to the police.)
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