Roll up! It's Gem's Magical Memory Tour...!

Following on from an 80’s-themed article in the ‘Black Taxi’ JET Publication which I co-edit with the lovely Ozzie Cat McDonald (or ‘Bitch’ as I affectionately call her) this is a trawl through the glittery, sparkly cellars of my childhood memory…Come with me on a 1980’s magical memory tour…your sure to find some things your familiar with...

Michael Jackson.
Who was alive in the 80’s that doesn’t remember seeing ‘Thriller’ and remember wanting to be MJ’s wife? I did…even though I was only 8! But then I knew nothing about race identity crises or inappropriate Chimpanzee relations. One of my highlights of the 80’s was my mint green Michael Jackson tracksuit, featuring the ‘Bad’ album cover on the front. I was the height of cool thanks to my generous (?) parents.

BROS. Bros were Aryan-looking twins called Mat & Luke and a surplus bass player called Craig. They paved the way for large-scale boy band ‘brands’ and were one of the first British groups to specifically target merchandise-hungry teens. Fans of Bros were called ‘Brosettes’ and wore (if I remember correctly) bottle tops on their shoe laces as a mark of their adoration. I can’t be sure but I may have owned a pair of stone-washed ‘Bros’ jeans bought at Bessemer Rd market in Cardiff. Top Bros tunes included ‘When will I be famous?’ and ‘I owe you nothing’.

Thundercats. Thundercats were scary but super-sexy ‘cat’ action heroes. A bit boyish for me, but me and my brother Justin used to get up early on Saturday mornings (about 6am at least) to watch Thundercats and other 80’s classics like ‘Happy Days’ and ‘Laverne and Shirley’. I used to love the Thundercats crisps (10p bags) Why did they stop doing them goddamn it – why?!


Madge. Madonna (or ‘Madge’ as trashy UK mags have christened her) exploded onto the scene in the 80’s with ‘Borderline’ and ‘Lucky Star’. She has so far failed to disappear. Despite being completely lost in showbiz (Kabbalah…changing her name to ‘Esther’…thinking she is English…giving her kids stupid names…) you have to give her some credit for sticking around this long and re-inventing herself every 1-2 years. One of my fave Madge memories is of me and my friend of ole’ – Rhian Thomas (formerly Westbrook).

We had a thing for Madge and a crush on a boy called Paul Jones so we dressed up as Madge and decided to go call for him. We backcombed our hair, decorated it with lace ribbons hanging down in our faces, draped plastic necklaces round our necks and drew Madonna beauty spots above our lips. We made the boy come with us round the back of the Chicken Sheds near our Primary School. His mate Gareth Whitnell was with us but we didn’t fancy him. We demanded that Paul kiss us both but we said that Gareth wasn’t allowed to look. Paul said he wouldn’t do it unless Gareth could look too, so we said OK. Thanks to Madonna and her sluttish influence, Rhian Thomas and I both had our first kiss with Paul Jones that afternoon. Tarts.

Gary J. Paul. You may not remember him. That’s because he was an imaginary boyfriend I made up to look cool. The afore-mentioned Paul Jones developed a bigger crush on my cousin (damn that evil wench) so I was forced to come up with an action plan. Gary J. Paul wrote some very romantic letters…but then I was a relatively creative 9-year old. (Note: the ‘J’ initial was totally influenced by the ever-cool Michael J Fox who was huge at this time).

Transformers (more than meets the eye…). OK, I didn’t like them (I was a girl for god’s sake). However, my brother Justin still keeps on harping on about the fact that in the 80’s, I broke his Transformers Radio a few days after he got it. I bet when I go home next he’ll mention it again. Girls have reasons for doing evil things like this. He was probably teasing me relentlessly and calling me ‘German’ instead of ‘Gemma’ and saying that ‘My Little Pony’ was retarded. So I did the only thing I could do; I stood on a wall and threw the Transformer Radio at the concrete below me. SMASH. More than meets the eye? Not any more, luv…

Timmy Mallet. Imagine this at 7am on a Saturday morning. “Ok kids, everybody say ‘BLLLUUUURRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHH!’ – Louder c’mon ‘BLLLUUUURRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHH’” Timmy Mallet was a stupid-ass obnoxious Kids TV host of the U.K show ‘Wackaday’. He wore really CRAZY glasses and had a pet budgie. They had this word-association game on ‘Wackaday’ called ‘Mallet’s Mallet’. Those who messed up got a clonk on the head with a large pink and yellow foam mallet. The winners of ‘Mallet’s Mallet’ got given a plaster (band-aid) with ‘Wackaday’ written on it and got to stick it on their chin or forehead and look into the camera menacingly and say ‘BLLLLLLLLUUUUUUUURRRRRRRGGGGGHHH’ to their parents or their teacher or whoever. Many years later at my University Graduation Ball in Cardiff International Arena, WHO should be one of the guests on the play list? Bloody TIMMY MALLET doing a ‘come-back tour’ (catering to pissed-up students). He was selling miniature mallets for 10 quid a pop and there was a huge cue to buy them. Looks like Timmy got the last laugh.

Confectionary. First of all I would like to extend my belated thanks to Mrs. Jones (formerly of School Street, Tonyrefail) who used to run the ‘pop shop’ (sweets, crisps and soda shop next to my primary school). She was ancient (my MOTHER used to buy sweets from her when she was in grammar school, for gods sake). Every Friday my step-dad would take me to the 'pop shop’ and buy me those lush flying saucer sweets with sherbet in the middle, ‘fish n chips’ (made from chocolate), chocolate mice, cola cubes, peanut brittle, rhubarb and custard sweets (quarter or half a pound or a 10/20p ‘mix up’). You could also buy a cup of pop (soda) for 5p (that’s how long ago it was). Her shop was set up in the front of her house and smelled a bit like cats and old people. Original sweets that came out at the time were ‘Eye Poppers’ (the sourest sweets ever known to mankind) and ‘Nerds’ (tiny pellet sweets compartmentalized into color/flavor sections. Oh, how cool they were! RIP Mrs. Jones.

Biccies. As anyone in the British Isles will tell you, we all love biscuits. The Scots do these lovely chocolate-wafer biscuits and marshmallow ‘snowballs’ made by a company (from Glasgow I think) called ‘Tunnocks’. Lush. My cousin Caroline and I used to like smashing the Tunnocks snowballs on our foreheads before eating them. I don’t know why. In the 80’s I remember my Nan always used to buy ‘Fig Rolls’ and ‘Lemon Puffs’. That always used to puzzle me. Why would someone choose fruit-flavor over chocolate? I still like Lemon Puffs though. At our house, treats would include ‘Wagon Wheels’, ‘Trio’s’, ‘Milky Way’, ‘Club’ and ‘Penguins’. But we didn’t really have that much junk food at home like we do now, back then it was still a ‘treat’ that you might buy if someone was coming round or there was a party. Most people used to buy much plainer stuff like ‘Rich Tea’ or ‘Malted Milk’ – they were cheaper. Malted Milk used to have a dairy cow pattern on the front which I used to like biting around. Also, Malted Milk had a good ‘dunking’ performance. This means it can sustain at least three seconds in the tea before you take it out. You don’t want a biccie that will dissolve when you dunk it in the tea. ‘Chocolate Digestives’ and ‘Hob Nobs’ also have excellent dunking performances. For excellent Tea and Biscuit nostalgia you must visit this website; www.nicecupofteaandasitdown.com

I encourage you all to e-mail and post your contributions!

All the Nostalgic Love,

Gemma

(FAO Justin...'My Little Pony' are not retarded)

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Flying Solo (Thanks for the title, Benji)

I’ve come to realise of late that I am an anti-social (but sometimes sociable) recluse. Much to my alarm, I have recently found myself shunning possible drinking sessions with large groups of Japanese and even my own peers on the JET Program!


I’ve done this lots of times with groups of Japanese and usually claim I don’t want to go out with them because my Japanese sucks and I hate looking stupid and have no idea what’s going on, but sometimes the thought of going out to a party with lots of (especially new) people makes me want to vom slightly. I am fine with smaller groups and also with large groups of people I already know but often the inane small talk / politeness / predictability / making an impression stuff is just far too tiresome to contend with.

This was further confirmed the other day during cleaning time at school. Everyday in schools all over Japan, students and teachers clean the entire school together after lunch. I imagine they do this because they don’t want to give evening jobs to under qualified forty-five year old women. Everyday this teacher Yamada Sensei keeps bugging the kids to talk to me and ask me questions in English, which I’m sure they hate. I reckon he pretends his English is crapper than it is, so he can get the kids to ‘translate’ and then by praising them, deflect from his own embarrassment (I know! I have too much time to think of these things).

Anyway, I know it’s kind of my job to motivate/converse with the kids but really I just want him to stop bugging the kids and me. I just want to be left alone. We get along fine when we are cleaning quietly and peacefully and then a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘see you later’ is cool with me (and them). I could go to another part of the school to clean, but I never clean toilets unless they’re my own and I don’t want to clean classrooms. Corridors are good. Corridors are fine. So on that day, I was hovering at the back trying to be unnoticed (not easy in Japan). Yamada Sensei was obviously talking about me to the kids, trying to get them to initiate conversation. I usually jump in at this point and save them from his nagging, but today I pretended I couldn’t hear and kept sweeping further and further and further away…

As for socialising outside of school…I am apparently so relaxed and comfortable in my boyfriend and friend spheres that I really don’t care to extend my circle of friends. I’m happy with what I’ve got. You know, if I had no faith in my abilities, I would be more concerned at my current apathy for social networking, especially since I am hoping to carve out a career for myself in Public Relations (ooooops).

Sometimes when I was growing up, my mother used to call me ‘Greta’ (referring to Garbo’s famous movie line ‘I want to be alone…’) I used to mope off and disappear alone for hours on end. Still in my mid-twenties, it’s not uncommon for ‘Greta’ to make an appearance from time to time. My dear late Grandmother was another ‘Greta’. She never wanted to socialise with other ‘old people’. Because they had no appreciation for literature and the classics, because they didn’t read and recite poetry, because unlike her, they were not doing a Degree in Art History and English Literature at the age of 75. She was the most adorable snob. But I got to thinking, her snobbish claims were as transparent as my ‘poor Japanese’ excuses. She wasn’t especially concerned with all that stuff. She just preferred to spend time with the people that really mattered. Maybe I do too.

Greta Garbo

1905 - 1990

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‘Biscuit Tin Fascists’

My school is ripping me off.

Every month 1,000 Yen (Five British pounds or about 10 dollars) is deducted from my pay packet to pay for ‘tea’, coffee (yuk) and ‘snacks’ in the staff room. I resent this. I was never asked did I want to contribute, I was never asked ‘do you actually like our coffee that tastes like arse and do you like our paltry salty fishy offerings in the biscuit tin?’. No! I hardly ever drink the coffee unless I am dying of thirst (there is no water on offer), starving (you’ll definitely have no appetite afterwards) or freezing to death (November to March).

There is no way that the meager things I do consume add up to five quid a month. In fact, I have taken to bringing in my own Coffee’s and Hot chocolates. The stuff that they do put in the tin looks like it comes from Hyaku En (100 Yen store). Would it be terribly, terribly demanding to perhaps put something substantial in the tin – like a flapjack or a packet of crisps? Apparently yes it would. Fascists.

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