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I’m not one to hang around kiddies’ playgrounds (honestly!), but when I strolled into Shimokitazawa’s Shelter last week I was instantly teleported into a school disco, and it kinda felt good. But keep that to yourself, OK.

The kids here are all 18 going on 14. They are all drinking tea or orange juice. I am the only one smoking and I feel a little bit guilty about it. Images flood my head of some spoilsport games master grabbing me from behind and forcing me to stay after the gig to write a thousand lines on how bad I’ve been. When I ask the barman for a beer he pauses momentarily as if confused. I wish I’d shaved. God, I feel old.

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