After I told you last week that I was starting to run out of money, you all massively clicked the Kofi button below. It wasn’t my intention to beg for money, but your small contributions are very much appreciated, so thank you for that!

This week I emailed back and forth with my accountant, who turned out to have a good solution for the loan between Toeps-the-person and Toeps-the-company: we can write off the debt against a tax-free severance payment for me as director, which will neatly bring the balance to zero. And although I initially claimed I wouldn’t need a lawyer for this dissolution because I was going to figure it all out myself, after receiving a reasonable cost estimate from my accountant and a believable prognosis from ChatGPT, I decided to also request a quotation from the recommended law firm. (To avoid confusion: for the dissolution I need both an accountant and a lawyer.)

My accountant now says the whole process will take until about December — and of course I’ll have to keep paying them all that time — but I hope it can be done faster. If not, December is fine too. Either way, the end of the kabushiki kaisha (stock company) is in sight.

For now, I still have to watch my spending, so instead of a birthday trip to Hokkaido, Mt. Fuji or who-knows-where, we decided to keep it simple last Thursday: we went to Hachioji.

Yes, Hachioji, where my office/mini-apartment is. I’d already been sleeping there since Tuesday. I do that more often when I’m busy, because nowhere can I work so undisturbed and unwind as in my little apartment. (Here’s a video from when it was still my office. These days, the tatami mats from the 10th are on the floor, and the pull-out bed has been replaced by two foldable mattresses from Ikea.) “Can you take Thursday off and come to me, just like in the old days?” I asked François. Since I moved in with him, he’s only been to Hachioji once — last October, when we went shooting in Sagamiko with Charlotte. “We can go to the Off, to Bikkuri Donki, and maybe we can finally try out the pool!”

François is a real water rat. He misses the many swimming pools of southern France, and in the past we usually went to hotels just so we could swim. “But… there’s a pool super close to your place!” said my Japanese friend Mariko, who also used to live in Hachioji, when I told her about this. She pointed me to Attaka Hall, a multifunctional building with a public pool heated by the adjacent waste incineration plant. Admission: 200 yen per hour.

François showed up at my door just before noon. First, we brought my old, wilted bicycle to the Hobby-Off within walking distance of my manshion. They didn’t want to give me money for the wreck, but at least I got rid of it. (Normally, you have to pay a disposal fee, so this was better than nothing.) Then we did a round through all the thrift shops that the Ecotown complex has to offer. I found a second-hand sewing machine that ticked all my boxes: cheap, simple, with a foot pedal, sturdy… And when I saw that it also came with a large extension table, I was sold! The thing was 5,500 yen (€32,-) and comes with a three-month warranty. The sewing machine I bought earlier was almost a toy. If this new machine works properly, it’s the perfect upgrade. A perfect birthday gift. We had a crêpe at the stand next to Ecotown, and I lugged the heavy mishin home. By then it was already 4:30 — time to head to the pool!

The pool at Attaka Hall has gorgeous photos on the website. There are four lanes for lap swimming, a shallow kids’ area, and even a jacuzzi. The roof can open, which is a spectacular sight. I’d hoped we’d be there around sunset to admire the beautiful skies from the water. But Attaka Hall is… weird. The building, which looks like the ultimate ’90s science experience museum (think glass and concrete, round shapes, a massive spiral stair…), was built at some point, and then seemingly never looked after again. At least, that’s what it feels like. The pool is on the fourth floor, and the rest of the building looks abandoned. There are weird, empty rooms, and somewhere downstairs there’s a corner where you can buy second-hand bikes and furniture. Uhhh…?

The pool itself is still well used, mostly by seniors and mothers with children, but here too it seemed like nothing had been updated in thirty years. Tiles are falling off the walls left and right, the windows are practically frosted from dirt and grime, and the little slide in the kids’ pool is taped off. “No climbing,” say the printed A4 sheets. The ceiling is rusty in places, and the roof was closed. “I wonder if it can even open anymore — maybe it’s been broken for years?” I said to François. Also, the main pool was only a meter deep along its entire length, so diving wasn’t possible. While it was nice to have a swim, especially with the temperature outside at 36 degrees, after an hour we’d had enough. We got dressed and headed to our next destination: Bikkuri Donki.

Bikkuri Donki, or “Surprise(d) Donkey”, is a family restaurant serving burgers (hanbaagu, without a bun — not to be confused with hanbaagaa, with a bun), steak, and other “Western” dishes. The interior has a country vibe, and cat-shaped serving robots roam around. François’s friends spent this week going to fancy French restaurants on boats and in tall towers with their respective girlfriends, but we had the nicest end to our day with the crazy donkey. Just like in the old days. After that, François headed to the station, and I walked back to my crib — I had class the next morning, so it was better to stay in Hachioji.

This was such a fun birthday. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. And you know what’s great about a low-budget day like this? You can do it anytime.