“Summer Days” by Do As Infinity is a song that can be enjoyed no matter what season it is… “Summer days, I can’t stand the summer days. Frozen cocktails and night fireworks, what’s so great about them anyway?”
Would you believe it, it didn’t snow again after Wednesday. By Friday, all the snow had vanished like it was some sort of bad trend and I doubt we will see it again for some time (especially anything in the region of 2 inches deep). I could have sworn it snowed heavily only around 3 years ago but the newspapers tell me otherwise. According to them the last time in London was 11 years ago. Do papers lie? Did I grow up that quickly? (Is my memory that bad?)
The snow went before the arrival of my digicam so will have to wait till the film is developed in the “standard” one (no longer standard anymore because my digicam has taken over this title now). There’s a part of the brain in boys that never changes or is lost at any time during their transition to a grown man. The part I am talking about is the affinity for gadgets and tech toys, particularly the pocket-sized ones or the ones that double up as something else (e.g. a pen that can also be used as a handglider). The reality is, all men want to be like James Bond. Well, that’s what Mum says. She says that every guy she knows, including Dad, went to see those films and even though they don’t always enjoy the film, they long for the James Bond lifestyle; danger, adventure, gadgets, fast cars, faster women.
Yesterday, I swung by Chinatown on the way to meet Yogi. Went into the supermarket to get some Pocky (of course) and what did I notice? £5.25 for 500ml of Calpis Water cordial! Perhaps Mr Calpis should open up a franchise and sell it as perfume because it’s an extortionate amount to pay for a beverage that is as common as cola in Japan. Eau De Calpis. I’d wear it, if I wasn’t too busy imbibing it. In spite of its dodgy name.
The whole of our KCL genetics group met up and went to visit Marc. After arriving at the train station, it was a nice surprise for each of us to receive a new voicemail message from him. He phoned just 10 minutes before we got to the station for the hospital, leaving his phone number so we could contact him. This nice surprise translated to an even nicer surprise for him when we all turned up to see him (he was just expecting a few of us to phone back). He’s off the heavy doses of morphine and is being pumped with antibiotics, so is on the long road to recovery. He had been undergoing physiotherapy and was now able to move his arms and his fingers in a more co-ordinated fashion. Strength is coming back in general. He also had a flat screen monitor by his bedside, on which he could watch TV (seems he can access all the Sky channels) and make/receive phone-calls. He was bummed that the internet was down, but with his sister buying him a Gameboy Advanced, he’ll be able to while some of the time away in a constructive manner. He told us about what he remembers of the accident and the trauma, but he really has cleared up. Even moreso of a miracle since the stats show only around 25% of people involved in similar accidents pull through.
He had learned quite a lot of medical terms and I guess medicine becomes more of a learning experience when you deal with the symptoms and conditions in first person perspective. I also realised how much hospital beds could be excellent places to conduct interrogation when Marc told me that one of the patients there was doped up so much that he was telling all about his life and career in the SAS. Back in his prime he must have been a resilient soul, bowing to no method of interrogation and probably never even shedding a tear upon the sight of garden shears. But now, the guy was an old man and given enough painkillers, would divulge any aspect of restricted, proprietary and all other sensitive military secrets. The man was singing for his supper, and morphine was on the menu. He was telling Marc about UFOs and Roswell and about how they really do exist (I think Marc believes in them, but at the same time seems like he’s out to try to debunk any theories). Allegedly, some aspects of the film Independence Day were even more accurate than Hollywood’s scriptwriters would have us citizens believe (or “US citizens believe”). Allegedly, there is a secret base underground at Roswell and is one of several hidden bases to be found in various other exotic locales undetectable from the air (some are built into mountains). Allegedly, there is a base. Allegedly, they have a space craft there that is made of a material harder than any known substance on Earth. Allegedly, even with diamond-head drilling they cannot penetrate it to see what’s inside. Don’t tell anyone, OK?
I find it hard to accept things like UFOs and space aliens, but a part of me feels that it is possible. There are too many theories and fakings out there, so I have reached a point where I will need proper proof like at least a close encounter of the third kind (yes, I’m sceptical). But I can’t help but wonder why areas out in Arizona have a military perimeter that is enforced with armed guards if there wasn’t some sort of secret silo or research facility housed in the ground. Hmmm.
Shaz had bought a new Mahjong set on the strength of its appearance and not on the strength of her knowledge of the game’s rules. I’d been teaching for how to pronounce it for half the day and I have to admit, by the evening she was getting pretty good at it. Marc knows how to play it and I think I will have to read that book again, but we’re going to have a game when he gets out of hospital.
Shaz: It [the Mahjong set] comes with these long wooden bits too.
Me: They’re for handling the pieces. Those pro players don’t need to use their hands to pick up the pieces.
Shaz: So do you [Marc] know how to play it?
Marc: Yeah, but I’ve only played it on the computer. I really enjoy it.
Shaz: So you play it on your own?
Marc: Yes, I just try to finish the game on my own in the quickest possible time.
Me: So you’re pretty good at it by now?
Marc: I’m pretty fast, but I don’t know how they play the game all the time. It requires a lot of brain power to locate pieces and play.
Me: They play it in cafes and restaurants in China. It’s mainly the old folks who play it.
Marc: So they play it together as a group?
Me: Yeah, it’s more fun that way. Plus, they gamble and put money on games.
Marc: Oh right, I can see how it would be interesting if you put money on it.
The last few times I had visited him, I had been unable to see him and speak to him. I was glad to have been able to talk to him again and to have seen how much better he was feeling.
Today, met Michael for lunch at the local noodle bar. I like eating there because they use the exact same tables, benches and cutlery as other higher profile branched noodle bars like Wagamama and Soba, at a fraction of the cost. In addition to being cheaper than the bigger names, they fulfil 2 of my usually stringent requirements when dining out: 1. Food must be tasty, and 2. Food must be clean. I get both here and the bar is able to boast in its menu and advertising pamphlets of “Nice food and excellent hygiene” because it’s almost literally spotless there. It’s always packed at lunchtime and dinnertime and pretty much all day at the weekends. Probably filled up because of all the health inspectors dining there, but hey, if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me.
The menu is vast, with only sushi/sashimi missing and all this time I didn’t realise they sold those dumplings I liked. I wasn’t sure of the official name (which is “Ebi gyoza”) but I always called them “pot stickers” regardless of whether or not they had been lightly fried after steaming. I saw the waitress pass our table with a plate of them and had to place an order for those too.
Since I last saw him around 6 months ago, he had been doing well for himself in his new job and had also met a girl who was now officially his girlfriend. He had told me how upset and down he was feeling about his ex-girlfriend when we used to have our chats some time ago, but now he seems to have cheered up a lot. There’s nothing better than the next one, to help you get over the last one. I’ve seen too many cases of heartbroken guys and girls who were upset with a breakup because they were convinced that the other person was “the one.” I don’t believe in “the one” theory. There are many “ones” out there, maybe as abundant as there are “ones” in a typical strip of binary, and in the light of the moment it may seem that there’s no one else for you. But when that light fades, you should be able to see the other ones out there. It just takes time.
Decided to go catch a film after lunch.
Me: What would you like to go see?
Michael: Depends what’s on.
Me: Well the only two I would even consider is Gangs of New York and {cough} Star Trek.
Michael: What do you want to see?
Me: I don’t mind either of them, we should check the times.
After checking the film show times, we find out that Gangs of New York is showing much later, but we’re in good time for Star Trek: Nemesis.
Me: It’s going to have to be Star Trek then.
Michael: I’m quite glad you said that.
Me: Ah, of course! You’re a big fan, I forgot.
Michael: I’m a Star Trek nut.
Me: Do you own own one of those Star Fleet crew suits?
Michael: No.
Me: Ahem, then I hardly think you could call yourself a Star Trek nut!
Michael: Are you a fan as well?
Me: Sure. I’m wearing my suit underneath my regular clothes.
But of course I wasn’t really. I have never been a Trekker or any form of Sci-fi nut. I never watch the series but I have watched the films and that goes for both old school Star Trek and new school Star Trek. With the advent of quality silicon graphics and subsequent advancement in CGI, I must say that I am always taken back by the space scenes (especially battle scenes) in recent sci-fi films of any sort. Star Trek is a massive franchise and I wonder what would happen if they decided to have a Star Wars series on TV. I think securing the rights for that would be a multi-hundred-million deal in itself! I’m not sure if it would work as a series though (personally, I’d prefer a Blade Runner series). Star Trek fares well because the physics is plausible and its universe is scientifically rich, asides many other factors. Michael thinks that a lot of the appeal is to do with the whole concept of Star Fleet management as it’s very professional and business-like, kinda like a big office (I guess it reinforces the term of a “tightly run ship”). Reminded me of the time I used to work in a cinema and everytime one of the managers (a Trekker) would retire to the office to do reports, he’d pass the command to me by telling me “The bridge is yours, Number 1.” I found it quite funny how he referred to the foyer as “The Bridge” and had this romantic notion of being Jean-Luc Pickard whilst every other staff member was assigned a role. Being second in command, of course I was Will Riker, and depending on the effort put in by the other members, they would either be Data, Worf or another colourful member of the ship’s bridge. If their working was not up to standard, then they would be downgraded to the role of a peripheral character, or at worst, Star Fleet plumber. It was a good way to pass the time, I guess.
Also, wondered why they pronounce his name “Data,” the English way. It’s a US starship, so surely they should pronounce it “Darter” or “Darder.” Allegedly, when one of the new actors joined the series, he said his lines, referring to Data with the American pronounciation. He got chastised for that error.
Mum is a big fan of the sci-fi on TV. She watches Star Trek and Stargate quite religiously. She always tells me to watch it as well, because clearly she enjoys it much herself. But, the only time I was really into Star Trek was in the days of Lenny Nimoy and the original captain himself, Bill Shatner. Back in those good ol’ days teleporter transportation was a really big thing and nowadays they just use it like it carried no whimsical glee. Watch their monotone faces nowadays as they are teleported around. In Shatner’s day, upon materialising somewhere else, they’d always give a rapturous nod or a complacent smile upon hitting terra firma. If he used a teleporter, I doubt even James Bond would be able to resist chortling “Wow, that was badass” in his bourgeois British drawl. Teleporters are cool, people! And for the record, I really did enjoy Star Trek: Nemesis (just in case I deny or forget that later in life, ahem).
