Things that go (brit)POP

On the weekend I ventured out to funky nightspot Opium and had a wee drinkie with fellow Canadian scholars, Miss E and Master N, where we nattered about work and the woes of narcoleptic students. We also discussed curious things, such as the fact some Japanese wear face masks when walking about outside - not to avoid breathing in pollution, but to prevent themselves spreading colds to other people; non-working women are immediately referred to as `housewifes`; many a Japanese wife is very lonely - often the husband lives in a different town, usually where his company is located - and only sees his wife once or twice a month; many women in their thirties upwards are badgered by their bosses to lose weight despite being thin by Western standards.

Then we meandered our way to Commune, a skinny, narrow club on the fifth floor of a building. We were handed copies of the DJs` set-list on the way in, which was rather odd. Thankfully, the DJs promptly ignored the setlists and played a spontaneity of Britpop and other indie tunes. Miss E and I quaffed Cassis and orange and listened to the old classics, which to my delight featured Suede, the Stone Roses, Primal Scream and others including Vanessa Paradis, the latter I think being a hangover of Japan`s Johnny Depp fixation. Sadly the club was relatively dead on the punter front, with only about 15 people in total. Miss E and I danced about to the Beastie Boys and the Chilli Peppers, then turned in at around 2am.

I wandered home on foot nibbling inari under a tangerine moon (this was much more elegant than the previous night`s transport, when I wobbled home drunk on my racy red bicycle after nastily mixing drinks - sake, vodka, sake, a Cowboy shooter, more vodka, a bit of wine etc - to find the next day that my clothes and bike were splattered with mud). Most un-glam!

Also on the clubbing front, I have discovered a monthly psytrance club in Hiroshima. Yay for bleepiness!