Jonothan Ross' Japanorama

I've been learning Japanese over the last few weeks. This week we were introduced to Japanorama, Jonothan Ross' hilarious tribute to his favourite country.


Learn something you didn't know about ramen. 

What I learnt delivering newspapers

At the age of 25 I got my first paper round. What better way to spend the last few weeks before heading off to Japan than wandering around the local streets, providing the town with an essential service. I should have known when I called the distribution centre and they asked if it was for a kid or me that I wasn’t the right person for the job. Thirty-four degrees Celsius, eight and a half hours of walking, one litre of water and 570 papers later I understood why only children should have a paper round. There are a lot better ways to earn a hundred bucks.

However, with plenty of time to observe and think I did learn some invaluable lessons.

Wind is the paper deliverer’s worst enemy

Annoying, yes?

It’s a glorious, cloudless Sunday morning. You’ve just had a leisurely stroll down the street to collect the newspaper. Perhaps you’ve picked up a coffee and a croissant on the way. Now you’re settling down outside on the deck to enjoy your delicious treats and to catch up with what’s been happening in the world. Your newspaper gives a rustle; you sense a breeze. You place your coffee on the edge of the paper to make sure it doesn’t blow away. The next moment your coffee is spreading all over the News and the Sport has blown over the back fence. And chances are, if your croissant is light and delicate it’s blown off the table straight into the mouth of your patiently waiting dog.

This is what your paper delivery person has to deal with every time they try and put your local paper in your letterbox, albeit without the coffee, croissant and relaxing surrounds. They do battle with Mother Nature, taming cheeky papers trying to escape one page at a time. No number of expletives seems to fix the problem.

A letterbox makes a house

Now that's a letterbox.

A builder in Barwon Heads couldn’t get more work if they lived in [insert war-ravaged city that has been recently bombed, here]. There are new houses going up on every street, each appearing to be at the furthest edge of modern architecture. Oblique angles and water views abound. They are more works of art than houses. Then the proud owners go and put a hollow brick on a pole at the front of their property and call it a letterbox. Why, when you’ve just spent hundreds of thousands of dollars building your great Australian dream would you ruin the look of your house by putting a crappy little tin box that you picked up on the weekend from Bunnings in front of it all?

Actually, come to think of it I’ve never really looked at someone’s letterbox unless I’m putting something in it. So maybe only the postman will notice.

Newspaper ink is like a George Foreman Grill

Handling newspapers for eight and a half hours leads to black hands. The ink gets into your pores leaving your hands and fingers smooth and shiny. If I was picked up by the police and fingerprinted I would have been fingerprint-less like George Foreman, who allegedly burnt off his fingerprints in his eponymous grill.

Please don’t find it necessary to go and find these lessons out for yourself.

That's a big wave

Been getting back into the water recently. Plenty of cheeky little waves to get my confidence up. Then you see people doing this. I can't even comprehend how big this is.

The friendly people of Cape Liptrap

Bouncing from winter to winter over the last few years I haven't had a whole lot of time for camping. I sometimes got in a few days now and again, but nothing significant. This break in the seasons has seen a reversal of that trend - three camping trips in less than a month has seen adventures to Cumberland River, Aire River and, most recently Cape Liptrap. Setting up camp at Cape Liptrap in particular has reminded me of the wonderful people you can meet while you're camping.

Cape Liptrap

Friendly people

Being Melbourne Cup weekend, most people had the similar idea that camping would be a great thing to do for a few days. This meant that limited camping spots and the need to share fires. The fire we chose to cook on and warm by was also used by an older couple, Tony and Sue, who helped us cook damper, lent us there toasting fork so we could cook perfect marshmallows and generally entertained us with stories of "when we were your age."

Nearby Walkerville South

Even friendlier people

Camped on our other side were Todd and Porno (who actually preferred to be called by his name, Sean-o). We first met Todd after we sang/screamed along to Bon Jovi's 'Livin On A Prayer', which was wailing out the back of their lime green vintage station wagon while we were doing our dishes after dinner. He duly invited us over to listen to more Bon Jovi with him and Porno. (At that stage we didn't know he preferred the name Sean-o). Soon after we politely declined his generous offer Todd appeared at our fire, guitar in hand. We were serenaded with several renditions of 'In The Jungle', his version of 'ABC' written for his two young kids and a truly original song written during Todd's angsty teenage years about being lazy and his mum. That last song was clearly written during a rough patch in Todd and his mother's relationship. I'm omitting the lyrics for a reason.

I'm not sure if we would have stuck so fondly in Tony and Sue's and Todd and Sean-o's memories. I need to get old and wise or learn to play guitar.