Shop Til You...Break Down In The Street, Helplessly Bawling Your Eyes Out at the Utter Futility Of It All.

With the exception of purchases related to books, records, musical instruments and computer equipment, I am terrible at shopping. There's something about the intimidating size of department stores, the frankly terrifying approaches of members of staff and the sheer volume of people with bulging carrier bags who seem to know exactly what they're doing that just reduces me to a gibbering wreck.

Despite this dreadful affliction, Saturday found me braving the packed streets of Osaka's Umeda district in a desperate attempt to make some kind of headway on my Christmas Shopping. Having wasted far too much time browsing reading matter in Hankyu Station's 'Books Kinokunya' store, and even more time coveting the sundry delights on offer in Osaka's premier guitar shop chain, I finally managed to get my act together (sort of) and bought some trinkets for the folks back home. I'd like to say what they were, but of course the intended recipients may well be reading this, so I'd best not say. Suffice it to say, I at least made a start.

My main accomplishment was, however, a purchase made on behalf of yours truly in the form of a ludicrously complicated backpack, complete with all manner of mysterious straps and buckles the purposes of which I can never hope to fathom, ahead of my Christmas Sri Lanka expedition. The kind gent who served me spoke marvellous English and was extremely adept at parting me from more of my money than I'd intended. Whatever, at least I'm now prepared, and all being well my purchase should at least serve me reasonably well on any adventures I may have in the years to come.

Despite its formidable size, baffling layout and impossible-to-navigate system of interconnected department stores, shopping arcades, train stations and passageways, Umeda does at least offer some form of respite in the shape of its highly diverting street entertainment. Several elevated pedestrian crossings play host to the cream of Osaka's busking talent, which I'm always keen to observe being as I'm occasionally in the business of playing songs in public spaces myself. To wit, the band I made a point of watching offered a set of mainly forgettable J-Pop by numbers, albeit featuring an heroically be-shaded bassist who appeared to be partying as though it were 1982. Max Headroom would have been proud, I'm sure...