One of the joys of opening my post box every morning is the flyers and handouts that fuill it. After all, most of the letters I get are no more than rejection letters from employers, so it gets a bit depressing reading them. Thanks for the application, you're not shortlisted, please don't feel upset or suicidal, and apply again whenever you like. I'm starting to think the post service is making bogus job adverts to keep their members in gainful employment.

The flyers are different. Some are simple photocopies of ads for cleaning and domestic services, notes from enterprising individuals asking whether I'd like to sell the house, or full colour glossy menus of mouthwatering chinese, Indian, or Italian takeaways. As much as I like this sort of food, most of the flyers get binned. The outlets are too far to walk considering I've got dozens up and down the hill to choose from and pizzas require a small re-mortgage to pay for.

A couple of days ago however I got one flyer from a sushi bar, just around the corner from where I live. Huh? I never spotted that! It seems then that since Honda has reduced production there are Japanese in the area with time on their hands. How could I possibly resist? So last night it was cash in hand and off down the hill in my usual investigative manner. The bar was small, almost hidden in a recessed front of a brick terrace, overwhelmed by the presence of the extrovert pizza place next door. Blink and you'd miss it. To my suprise, I was served by a gentleman of east european origin. Hmmm. That didn't bode well.

Waiting for my sushi to be served was something of an experience. The dull outward colour may not attract attention, but anyone inside is clearly visible from the road and as cars slowed to a halt at the traffic lights the occupants of the vehicles kept looking across. Did they not realise a sushi bar was there? Or are they in awe of the ramboesque survivalist about to eat raw fish with nothing more than sanded down twigs? Oh come on, I'm not that fat....

Inevitably, I was disappointed. The portiions were little more than snack size (British size - Americans need to adjust by a factor of x0.01) and whilst the food tasted excellent, I can't help feeling that I was eating crab pate instead of the salmon I ordered. I know the Japanese are into small things, but this fish was microscopic. Okay, lesson learned, I'll stick to supermarket sushi.

Fishiness of the Week

Something is going on down at the local library. You know how you spot a change of mood? The librarians are walking past me grinning like cheshire cats. Come on girls, it just isn't true. I'm really not that fat. Especially now that I'm on a starvation diet of raw fish. Why do I get the feeling that this is actually about something I have no idea of? How can I sleep at nights not knowing what the joke is? Life can be so cruel.