For my regular readers (sorry, reader) you might remember that last year I was indignant at the paucity of goods available from the multitude of vending machines surrounding my flat. I’d been promised the world and had ended up with a scruffy little seaside town with an ailing funfair. There were no Ramen venders, or Manga venders, no underwear vendors (neither used nor unused). All there was was a range of drinks including one called Pocari Sweat! Well, new place, new machines and I have to offer an apology. for while it is true that most of the machines still only offer a variety of green teas and milky coffees, the one jut outside my train station, offers a very reasonably priced haircut.
Pocari Sweat! Yum!
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