Drifting apart like a plate tectonic

After a two-week visit of her home city, San has now returned to Japan. I saw her leave for the airport at 11am Saturday morning, she arrived in Tokyo at 7am local time but at time of going to press she was still travelling back to Tsuyama.

Just before New Year, we met up for the day -- we went to a pub in Camden and complained about what had changed, including the pub where we saw in the New Year 2001 which is now a Masala Zone restaurant. I was surprised at how busy Camden Lock was, and frustrated by the sheer number of tourists taking photos of crap. It's always been a popular place, and spots like the bridge over the canal are ideal for taking pictures, but it seemed every other person was stopping in the middle of the pavement to take a picture of a shop front with their mobile phones.

To borrow a phrase of San's, the day was surreal, but nice. It was weird to just hang out after not seeing someone for 8 months, but having kept in semi-regular contact via email and phone calls. It's amusing how San lapses into Japanese phrases occasionally.

Friday I knew would be my last chance to see her again for however-long, so we agreed that I'd come up after work and San's friend Krystina was arranging for a small get-together of her friends, in Islington. Somewhere between the two of us communications broke down, and San didn't realise I was coming into London directly from work (directly apart from a quick stop home to pack a bag, ditch my car keys and pick up my Oyster card). This small confusion meant that I was going to have a couple of hours to kill in the city on my own -- I reassured San this wouldn't be a problem, I wanted to buy some cards (including a goodbye card for work) and some postcards, and after grabbing something to eat, I'd just sit and read my book in a pub in King's Cross.

True to my word, I killed time with little effort at all and smiled to myself as I walked into my favourite pub in King's Cross in my big furry hat. There's lots of things I like about gay pubs, but I think the biggest attraction is that you know that there's not going to be some pissed-up (or pilled-up) chav who wants to start a fight with you. I also know that I can walk into the pub wearing a great big furry hat, and nobody will think I'm at all strange -- even if I continue to wear it while I sit at a table and read my book.

Before I'd finished my drink (but after I'd finished my book, I should have remembered to take two) San texted me to say rather than meeting at her flat, could I go directly to Islington. A quick change of clothes in a cramped stall in the pub's toilets, I caught the bus to Angel and set off along Upper Street, hoping to find where I was going wihtout too much trouble. The last time I had to meet San and her friends in some random place on Upper Street I must have walked for miles up and down the road before I eventually found it. This time was much less eventful, I found the noodle bar relatively quickly -- and immediately cursed having already eaten.

I wasn't waiting very long for San to arrive -- perhaps 20 minutes or so -- but she's come a long way from the days when I'd tell her to meet me at "12ish" knowing that she would be there shortly after 1. We only realised when we walked in that several of her friends were already inside and waiting for us. It's always nice to see San's friends, although, yes -- that word again -- surreal. They're all really nice and make me feel like I am one of their friends, even when they haven't seen me in a couple of years or longer. Sometimes it's slightly disturbing to see how we're all growing up -- no longer students, people are getting married, having kids, moving countries, settling down into jobs and laughing about how things don't turn out like you would have expected.

When we returned to her flat, San showed me a DVD her Japanese teacher had made her -- it was a recording from the TV of some comedy programme where they also happen to visit schools around the country. This particular episode visited one of the schools San divides her time between. Apparently the feeling of what the hell? I had constantly watching this recording of Japanese TV is what San says her life feels like every day. This half-bemused half-amused feeling that you're sure it would be very funny if you just knew what was going on.

Then it was Saturday morning, with San hitting snooze or re-setting her alarm ten times over before finally getting up to finish packing her bags. Later we hugged goodbye as she loaded her bags into the boot of her Dad's car, and I shouldered my own bag and walked up the road to the bus stop like I'd done so many times before.