* This essay column is written by a longtime foreign resident of Japan.

Although there are plenty of skilled tradespeople in the rural village where I live, it's usually far more convenient, economical and satisfying to do the job myself. A Japanese friend visiting my place for the first time thought "self-sufficient" was an accurate description of my lifestyle. While to me that term conjures up images of growing all your food and perhaps making your own clothes, the general concept is apt.

One annual do-it-yourself rite of spring is repairing the veranda roof. This entails replacing the sheets of clear corrugated plastic that chunks of ice sliding off the house roof have perforated during the winter. That's a task I enjoy as it's a sunny, sheltered corner to work in, the plastic sheets are light, clean and easy to handle, plus you quickly get a feeling of accomplishment in repairing the roof.

Working with concrete is completely different. Once it's in place, you get a sense of permanence and achievement, but the stuff is heavy, messy and tiring to do anything with. Two years ago, I rashly ordered 3 cubic meters of concrete to fill 35 large plywood molds I'd made and then arranged them on the grounds of the disused elementary school next door.

Now I know what 3 cubic meters of concrete looks like -- and learned the hard way that you need to arrange for a friend or two to give you a hand with it. Fortunately, the truck driver helped a bit, but he drove off as soon as diplomatically possible, leaving me to shovel the concrete around and level it in the molds.

Although the school is no longer used, old folks meet in the grounds to play gate ball. And while the three groupings of molds weren't in their way, they reported their presence to the village office -- and I soon had an annoyed guy asking why I hadn't sought permission. A good question. I did, however, point out that I had spoken with the groundskeeper and had been told it would be all right. I was told to remove them as soon as possible.

Which is when I discovered how heavy 3 cubic meters of hardened concrete is, even when spread among 35 molds. The base of these were regular sheets of plywood, 90 cm wide and 180 cm tall. Bordered and divided into two sections by 6-cm-high strips of wood, the top 40 cm contained a small slab for paths and the lower 140 cm held substantial slabs to be set upright as a low wall.

Well, it took three months to move all the slabs over onto my property. Some, with the help of my two eldest sons, I loaded onto my pickup and drove across, but most of them I pulled over manually. I'd lever them off the ground, put wooden rollers underneath, then attach a chain and haul them along on a pathway of prearranged rollers. Simple but effective.

I used all but two of the smaller slabs to build a rather neat doglegged path up a slope in front of my house. The big slabs were set firmly in the ground (easier said than done!) to make a low retaining wall around what, if I ever finish it, will become the front garden. As for the molds, the wooden strips became rafters or firewood while the sheets of plywood went into the roof of a spacious log-drying shelter I built that year behind the house. Our two log-burning stoves consume huge piles of firewood every winter, requiring a lot of roofed storage space.

That was the third log-drying shed I'd built, and with a floor space of 44 sq. meters easily the biggest. Other structures I've erected include the dog's house for our Labrador, Alice, and a henhouse for a flock of non-existent chickens. Our youngest son, Dan, was offered some "hens" and I built a proper shed for them, only to discover that it was roosters we'd be getting. Which is why my fancy henhouse is used to store junk. Well, at least I had fun building it.

If you have any comments please e-mail me at jtweekly@japantimes.co.jp

The Japan Times Weekly: June 21, 2003
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