The precision of Japanese precision
Everything in its right place.
And that’s never a bad thing in my books. I’ve got Germanic blood in me, for crying out loud. Alles in Ordnung, alles klar.
Next to where I work is a plethora of pachinko parlours. Why anyone would want to while away their time pinging ballbearings about for kicks is beyond me, let alone how anyone can set foot inside one of those places without donning a gasmask…unless you have a passion for passive smoking that is, in which case you can eat your heart (er, lungs!) out!
Every day I park my bicyclette (you’d love the little granny basket attached to the front of it) outside one of those very pachinko parlours. This morning, I rocked up only to find that a security guard had kindly arranged all of the bikes in perfect unison; all equally spaced apart from each other to the inch, complete with all the handle bars turned at exactly the same angle. It looked almost as meditative as a raked rock garden in Kyoto.
The graceful art of Japanese bicycle arrangement, then. I’m seriously in raptures about it.