MarkCity    |
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 Archives 
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Wednesday, May 28, 2003
 Japan might have better trains, funkier phones and bigger mountains than England, but there's one area where the UK beats Japan hands down - unless you happen to be a particularly crazed danger junkie. I'm talking earthquakes. Crazed danger junkies might scoff and ask where the fun is in living in a country that never wobbles or shakes, has no dangerous animals (except for football hooligans) and is in little danger of being destroyed by volcanoes or tidal waves. But in Japan people live with the niggling fear that one day the neon forests they live in could topple around their ears. So, two nights ago there was a big quake in Japan. Not Big with a capital B, thank God(zilla) but from the way the newscaster was vibrating on the news report I saw, it was bigger than anything I experienced out there. (I think there were two, maybe three, small quakes during that year - enough to make a glass or water ripple and for Larae, a teacher at my school, to freak out. Which ain't saying much.) Anyway, here are the reactions from some of my friends in Tokyo: Paul: The epicentre was up the coast near Sendai, so in tokyo just the usual wobbling and shaking. gave us a taster for the real thing though! My Dad and my Gran called me right away to check I was OK, I'm fine but I'm definitely getting an earthquake kit together now! Tetsuya:I and my family are OK! I felt the earthquake in my office. It wasn`t so big because tokyo is far from the focus. Keiji:There were a magnitude 7 quake in Tohoku region yesterday evening. It was a tremor with an intensity of 6 on the Japanese seven-stage seismic scale at Iwate Pref. It was an intensity of 3 at Tokyo. I felt an unpleasant rolling for about one minutes. I guess the Nova's teachers who don't become familiar with quake might be surprised. Sunday, May 25, 2003
The tyranny of the blog: I have roughly a squillion things to do (our flat still looks as it does in the picture below) but still feel I need to keep this site up-to-date. Before I start, if anyone has found this blog to be slower or more difficult to access recently, let me know. Friday night I got to do one of my favourite things: karaoke. But karaoke in England is rubbish compared to Japan - fewer songs to choose from, having to stand on a stage, being at the hands of a DJ scrabbling to find the relevant CDs - and it made me feel terribly nostalgic. Sigh. The worst thing was that the choice of songs was so poor. I did 'Gold' by Spandau Ballet and 'Reach' by S Club (quality songs, no?) but I didn't know how the verses went. So I had to kind of make up the tunes, squirming until the chorus arrived. Luckily, the choruses kicked arse. I'm sure I could have done better than last night's British Eurovision entrant. Nil points? And Tatu only came third, which is a travesty. Actually, I didn't watch it because I was in the pub. And my karaoke evening meant I missed the Big Brother launch show. I'm very much looking forward to becoming addicted to it again though. Must go - like, I said, I'm very busy. I need to watch Butter put the bookcases together. Wednesday, May 21, 2003
 Who would live in a house like this? Butter and I are currently trying to win the prize for World's Messiest Flat. This is what happens when you have about a million books and no bookcases. We also have no TV unit, wardrobe, chest of drawers or pot to piss in. Luckily we have a toilet so the pot is unnecessary. The nice people at Argos (hey, we spare no expense) will be delivering lots of furniture this weekend so I will spend the entire weekend with a screwdriver and an indecipherable diagram. Excellent. I am now a commuter and am delighted to report that Connex's service this week has been marvellous. Unfortunately, the London Underground's service has made me want to jump on the track with the mutant mice that live there. We're watching the Uefa Cup final at the moment. A little while ago a streaker ran on the pitch, treating the continent to a full view of his meat and two veg. John Motson said, 'If this had been in Britain we wouldn't have covered that incident, but we're in the hands of our Spanish producer.' 'Three cheers for the Spanish producer' said my girlfriend. Friday, May 16, 2003
 The mean streets of Tunbridge Wells. We've found a flat, smack in the centre of the Wells. The flat is very... cosy (ie small) but very light and welcoming, with new fittings, carpets, etc. The landlord, who is everso slightly obsessive, has left a screwdriver in the bathroom in case we ever get locked in. Don't ask. There's a branch of the Samaritans in the same street. I'm hoping that never comes in handy. Anyway, we won't be in danger in the Wells, because the town now has its very own superhero. This comes from the Daily Telegraph: Loud music in the pubs, the drunks stealing one's hanging baskets, the dreadful parking problems and, oh, the graffiti! Yes, on the mean streets of Royal Tunbridge Wells, the residents were crying out for a superhero. On Easter Monday, their prayers were answered. The superhero appeared, in full costume: cape, mask, boots, mysterious symbol on rippling chest, tight belt. They say that Ellen Neville was the first to spot him. There was trouble in the Pantiles area of town. The Pantiles? Think Batman, think the dark streets of Gotham City; then think, er, elegant 17th-century colonnades patronised by royalty, the healing waters of the famous Chalybeate Spring, and spa-town shops selling organic coffee and herbal teas. A Tunbridge Wells matron was "having bother" with a group of youths. Who could save her? Onto the well-lit shopping area, the rescuer "came from nowhere". "To my great surprise," recalls Miss Neville, "a masked man wearing a brown cape rushed to assist. He swept in, broke up the commotion and ran off leaving myself and the woman in a state of shock." The reports came in from all over town last week. "A very kind gentleman wearing a brown cape and mask tapped me on the shoulder and told me I had dropped my purse," wrote Ruth Barker. Gladis Webb had a similar experience. "Your masked man helped me up the stairs with some very heavy shopping bags late last Wednesday," she wrote. "What a gentleman he was, and I do like his cape." I think he should be called Captain Disgusted. And he needs an arch-enemy, like Lex Luther or The Green Goblin. Now, what terrifies the good citizens of Tunbridge Wells more than anything else? What fetid-breathed would-be horror would give them the biggest collywobbles? I've got it. Meet Captain Disgusted's arch-foe: The Labour MP. We're moving on Sunday and won't have a phone line/internet till the middle of the week, so this will probably be my last entry until then. Bye for now. Tuesday, May 13, 2003
 I know, I've been a bit slack the last few days. But I've been busy, and not just playing Zelda, the Wind Waker (which is possibly the best video game ever and the reason why I bought a Gamecube). Butter is back and we're flat-hunting. We're going to be moving to Tunbridge Wells. Yes, from the neon-drenched, cutting-edge, futuristic mayhem of Tokyo to a sleepy town that is not ashamed to have the word Royal before its name. In fact, Tunbridge Wells is about the poshest place you can live if you're not a royal. I hesitate to use the word snooty... OK, I hesitated, but now I'm going to use it. The Wells is well snooty. Even the staff in McDonalds have a superiority complex. Not that most residents of the Wells would dream of going to Maccy D's. Including me. Anyway, we checked out a couple of flats last night and have 2 more to look at today. We need to get in asap so I don't have to commute from Hastings to London. Commuting from the Wells is going to be bad enough. Butter will be able to walk to work. But that's okay - it means that whenever she complains about her job or feeling tired, I'll be able to say, 'Well, at least you don't have to commute...' We're also going to be doing lots of shopping this week, spending the money we managed to save in Japan. We need a bed, bookcases, a DVD player... all the essentials. I start my new job on Monday, so I have a few more days of lying in bed and being an unemployed slob. After that, my life will enter a brand new phase. But, rest assured, MarkCity will continue. Friday, May 09, 2003
I wasn't going to write any more this evening but I've just seen the news about Tama-chan, the famous Japanese seal and cult icon: This week Tama-chan made a shocking reappearance. Every newspaper and TV station carried close-up pictures of a fishing hook through the beast's right eyelid, confirming Japan's worst fears for a wild seal living in such a densely populated area. "Tama-chan, are you OK?" was the anxious question asked everywhere this week, as a nation temporarily pushed aside its own worries about North Korea's nuclear missiles, the spread of Sars in China and perennially awful economic news. For the rest of the story, see today's Guardian. Let's hope Tama-chan is, indeed, OK. STOP PRESS! I've got a job! I'm going to be an online marketer. It looks really exciting; exactly what I was looking for. And it's a huge weight off my mind - I was starting to think I was going to be on the dole forever. I start on Monday 19th. Anyway, I went out this evening and bought a Nintendo Gamecube to treat myself, and have spent the evening pretending to be Manchester United in Fifa Football 2003. Will write (much) more later. Wednesday, May 07, 2003
The British railway system is a truly wonderful thing. I was supposed to meet my friend Louise tonight for a swanky night out in Soho - at the Groucho Club, dahlings. Had this transpired, I could have dazzled you all with tales of spotting minor celebs and being brought bowls of crisps by wonderfully attentive waiters. That's right - crisps. However, I - and by extension you, dear reader - have been denied this pleasure because of the @$%*-ing trains. We got stuck outside a tunnel near Sevenoaks for an hour and a half before finally moving. Unfortunately, we moved backwards instead of forward. Realising that if I took the replacememnt bus I wouldn't get to the Groucho until about 10:30, by which time Louise would have scoffed all the crisps, I decided to come home. I bumped into an old friend on the train, Salena, who is another aspiring writer, as well as being a poet, singer and DJ. She DJs on Resonance FM under the name Salena Saliva. Monday, May 05, 2003
 It's not like this at the Groucho Last night the BBC hosted one of their Test the Nation specials. This time, rather than finding out how much you loved your partner you could find out how brainy, or otherwise, you are. Unfortunately, it clashed with I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here on which there was a fantastic rebellion where the hungry has-beens and never-wases fell out of their prams and started shouting, 'I want to speak to my agent.' Great stuff. Anyway, I did the IQ test online and discovered that my IQ is higher than the average mechanic, city trader and, indeed, person. Hurrah! Interestingly, the statistics show that the lower your income, the higher your IQ. Which means I should be the head brain at Mensa. Although maybe I lose a few points for my taste in TV shows. Sunday, May 04, 2003
First reports from Butter in Houston - my fears about her finding it hard being a veggie there were well-founded. Last night at dinner, a woman said, 'You know, I don't understand vegetarians. The Bible says that animals were put on this earth to support us.' She couldn't find anything to eat in the restaurant except salad. So it was easier than living in Tokyo, then. She's also been stuck in a what she describes as a 'godforsaken' hotel with a view of a car park, a highway and an empty lot. Poor Butter. Congratulations to Manchester United. It's all over for Arsenal after losing to Leeds today. The next big match for me is Nottingham Forest's play-off against Sheffield United, the first leg of which is next Saturday. Saturday, May 03, 2003
 Houston? No problem. Having stared into the face of doom in Sars-ridden Toronto and lived to tell the tale - or rather, for me to tell the tale on her behalf - Butter's travels continue. She's now been sent to Houston, Texas, to continue her training. I'm a little bit worried that she might run off with an oil millionaire called Hank. I'm even more worried that she might find it a tad difficult to find veggie burgers in the Lone Star Steak, sorry, State. I will, of course, keep y'all posted.   Hmmm...sprouts With my girlfriend jetting around the world, I thought it was about time for me to get out of the house. I spent a night out in London and stayed in Camberwell with my friend Andrew. Had lashings of beer and vodka. This morning, we went to the National Portrait Gallery to soak up our hangovers with some culture. We visited the Self Portrait UK exhibition, featuring lots of photos, films, paintings and, er, Sainsbury's receipts, representing the inner souls of the Great British public. One of the artists was actually there, in the flesh: a 10-year-old boy in a hoodie being loudly congratulated by his mum. As brushes with celebrity go, it was hardly up there with the time I sold Neil Tennant from the Pet Shop Boys a bag of Brussels sprouts. And have I ever told you that I went to school with Stella McCartney? Funny how the one famous person from my school happens to be the daughter of a Beatle. But I'm digressing wildly. The exhibition was cool, although I was finding it a little hard to concentrate because my sister kept texting me with updates on the Man U - Charlton match. Channel 4 are repeating the run-down of the 100 Greatest Adverts of All Time. There's no way that the Guinness ad with the horses should have won. My vote goes to the 'Ian Rush drinks milk' commercial. Accrington Stanley? Who are they? Ex-zackly. |