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I’m in a Will Smith movie- only my pursuit of employment and therefore happiness is not entertaining or dramatic; in fact nothing’s happening at all. This time last year I was filled with optimism about finishing uni and getting out into the world of work. I knew it would be difficult to get a job after reading that 2009 graduates would suffer the worst year for finding work in recent history. But I was not prepared for what was to come! Seeing as a degree is simply not enough anymore, we graduates have been focusing on gaining work experience to supplement academics. So a few weeks before my incredibly drunken graduation I set off on one of my placements to London, city of dreams, to work for free for a fortnight at Total Film magazine- a film journalist’s wet dream. For the privilege of working for these people, often into the small hours, it cost me the last £400 of my student loan that I had saved especially for the occasion. Putting it like this, I feel like a little bit of a mug, but this situation of paying to work is getting more and more frequent. And it’s usually down to the fact that if you don’t live in London and want to get experience within the media you’re gonna have to pay to do it. As I was, at this point, taking extraordinary measures to avoid dealing with the financial mess I was in post uni, the money didn’t bother me so much as I buried my head deeper and deeper into a sand pit. And I loved it at Total Film so much that I did, in fact, contemplate chaining myself to my desk on the last day. But I decided that this sort of extremism might not be the qualities they would want in an employee. So I bid farewell and boarded the surprisingly comfortable mega bus (they’re great!) back to Hull. OK so I’m now a whole new level of broke, with no essays, no work experience and living back at my mum’s house! How the hell did that happen?!?  mmmmmmmmmmm! Don’t panic, I told myself, mum won’t make you do the hovering if she thinks you’re busy at the computer. So after Google imaging pictures of Gael Garcia Bernal, I had a think about anything I’d like to get involved in locally. I thought about the magazine I used to read before I went to uni in Leeds, you know the one that swears a lot and goes out of its way to be controversial. So after sending Nick an article I’d written I was welcomed into the bizarre bosom of tenfootcity. The next few months passed…not so much quickly, but at least coherently now that I’d replaced Jeremy Kyle with writing for tfc and digyorkshire.com. However due to the majority of my work being unpaid (not by nick who gives me enough for a few drinks at team meetings- better than most trust me!)I was still forced to visit the most ghastly place in all the land, a place where the spirit is squashed by an acute patronization that only these employees have mastered, and you are left with an overwhelming sense of your own failure- Britannia House.
The foreboding of the fortnightly visits to this place is only trumped by actually being there and suffering the glue sniffing mothers (yes that actually happened) in a sea of Reebok. It’s pretty soul destroying for someone fresh out of the opportunity driven womb of uni (that totalled £24,000!) to end up here. And whoever placed it in that location is a genius! The shame of your failings on the job market is felt tenfold when one of the busiest junctions in Hull can humiliate you from 4 different angles! The one certainty that I can rely on in life is that no matter what time I arrive, the lights will be on red when I am trying to ever so subtly to creep into this place, and I can never fail to notice that the car driving employed folks have bags of time to idly stare and judge me accordingly. Brilliant. After a brief escape to South Africa, where I volunteered for 3 peaceful months, I have been applying for everything even vaguely related to media, but to no avail. If HR do manage to conjure the strength to send you a one line email to let you know that they think you’re shit, don’t bother asking for the much needed feedback…’due to the overwhelming response …’ But it’s not all bad, after a point, the failed applications and lack of opportunities can bring on a sort of revelation. On this crazy hunt for a career it’s very easy to forget why you’re obsessively trying to achieve this allusive goal. I realised one day that the recurring sight of my CV made my eyes bleed and for my own sanity I just had to stop reviewing it and reassess my life. I looked at what all my uni friends are doing now, how are they negotiating this battle field? Well they’re not, probably quite wisely. They are either in the midst of their travels or preparing for their trip to escape the employment problems in this country and find work abroad. With the NatWest mafia hot on my heels and a saint of a mother subtly commentating ‘the house isn’t really big enough for two is it?’ Like a cd on repeat, I’m seriously considering joining them. On one hand it’s a sorry state of an economy when all this fresh, creative and enthusiastic talent that is being spat out of universities up and down the country, is unable to put their skills to use. But on the other; is it really all that clever for a 23 year old to be spending her life at her mum’s kitchen table applying for jobs? After being pushed to the brink of unemployment madness, I see this situation now, which so many of us are in, as a kind of opportunity. Our countries a bit fucked, yeah? Well there are loads of other countries that have work for us… why not travel, live life and stop stressing about a career we don’t even have yet… we have the rest of our lives to do that!
-Antonia Musgrave
HULL INDEPENDENT MAGAZINE AND OPEN-ACCESS WEBSITE.
“Voices from the street and the sound of the Suburbs!”
Welcome to Tenfootcity. The alternative name for the city of Hull, East Yorkshire, England. Tenfootcity is also the name of our physical street magazine as well as this on-line sister magazine. It’s an independent magazine by the people, for the people and with the people of this City and the wider area, all in a language and style we can identify with. The reason this magazine was devised and launched is because we decided we wanted to reflect (independently of any mainstream media) what we consider, to be exciting times for Hull and East Yorkshire. This City is fast becoming more socially and culturally significant than it ever has been (as recently exmplified by the HULL FREEDOM FESTIVAL) and we, as a true street magazine, want to highlight and encourage that transformation. We are Hull and we’re proud of it!
(Now Click on our “About” tab to find out more about us, our street magazine and this open-access website……)
When it comes down to music Hull has always been a little incestuous. Ask any self respecting musician in this city how many bands they’re in and they’ll most likely have to stop to take there shoes and socks off to count. Inevitably they fracture and reform with new members and new sounds. Some of the best bands have come from the break ups of other groups The Holy Orders, The Beautiful South, you get the idea. As you can imagine I was gutted, deeply upset and practically inconsolable when I heard the heart-wrenching news that the Sorry Loves had split up (I’m tearing up a again as I type, dear reader). Luckily James Waudby (also of Salako, see what I mean) and Jason Heslewood formed The Horse Guards Parade out of the debris who already have an EP of alternative indie tunes full of spaghetti Western drums (”When the plane lifted it’s wheels”) warm heartfelt acoustica (”Sunshine on the radio”) and sunny 60’s psychedelia (the brilliantly titled “It’s The Smell of Grief In Your Teeth”). I’m Sorry Love, but I much prefer this equine incarnation. The world of Hip-Hop isn’t immune either as a certain group of guys we featured a few years ago have decided to give up their wild ways, straighten out and become model citizens having dropped the “Holligan” moniker in favor of the more streamlined “The Gang”. Now a three piece the remaining members Blakk, Ceekay, Heatrock are still creating the slickest, effortless sounding rock tinged hip-hop you’re likely to find including the full on rock tinged monster “Just Wanna Know” which has No 1 Single written across it and the cool and confident “Kick & Snare” Essential info The Gang Horse Guards Parade
Tenfoot City The Sesh Pave Welly Club Lamp Adelphi The New Tower Hull Truck Ringside Venues Misc Hullvibe
Just Imagine Your Mother has buried you in the ground, she’s wept tears and worn black and now, as she’s clearing your house of it’s contents, your old lady opens a bedroom draw and discovers a 16 inch petrol-powered dildo and an envelope full of lurid Polaroid’s of you, your partner and that couple you met on holiday in Corfu. Sure it was a great night. Everyone was high on wine and willing to experiment. It’s not something you’d advertise, nor is it something you regret, and yet, as you stare down at your nearest and dearest wiping off suspicious flakes from the “Black Mamba 2000″ and burning the sex photos in the kitchen sink you realise that one thing is gospel and true. Nobody really knows anybody. Everyone has secrets. Embarrassing desires and illicit thoughts. Some, the brave, shameless and the mentally-insane have few things to hide. They it let all hang out and do not fear the consequences of their actions and it must be a very nice way to live. You can say anything, feel anything and want anything and not have to worry what other people think of you. Ok, you might get punched in the face occasionally, you might even get arrested, but at least you’re not keeping it all in. If you ask the average person what they really want, they give you the pre-recorded common responses; I want love, I want money, I want peace. I want my husband, my wife, my kids.’ All pretty standard stuff and all fine choices, but dig a little bit deeper. Pause, roll a cigarette and think about it. Pretend that nobody’s listening and nobody cares and that if you didn’t admit the absolute truth and sing it from the rooftops, somewhere in Neverland, a fairy will die. It’s a dangerous exercise. Some will want to shag their next door neighbour, tell their best friend they love them or tell their lover they no longer do. Others will want to walk out the door and leave everything behind; the kids, the wife, the trinkets of life. Sure there are those who would want nothing more than a Giant Toblerone and a blow job and all I can say to those people is, lucky you! If your imagination doesn’t stretch beyond oral sex and confectionary then you’re probably very good in bed. Still, do not fear that your desires are destined to be caged. Just because something isn’t socially acceptable or morally-sound today, doesn’t mean it won’t be tomorrow. Imagine those long cold years of homosexual repression, generations of men and women who had to hide their want, only for the state to one day turnaround and declare it all to be legally acceptable. Personally, if I was gay, I would have been buggering my butch lover up the gates of Downing street in spite of the law. I barely pay attention to what I say, myself, never mind what nonsense the state, or law, spouts. I was highly tempted to concentrate on the whole government expenses business, this issue, but it’s rather a boring subject. The only thing I find amusing about it, is the fact that people are crying that their money is being spent on moat-cleaners and women’s underwear….. well here’s a news flash ladies and gentlemen: It’s all pretty fucked really, and perhaps it always was, and in the end the very best that we can hope for is that when we breathe our last breath, and leave this rock for good, a good friend of ours will find our Dildo, laugh their arse off and chuck it in the outside bin. At least….. I hope they’d chuck it in the bin. There is nothing more disconcerting than the sight of a second-hand sex toy for sale on e-bay. Still, maybe it is better if all of our skeletons fall out of the closet. Lee Cassanell P.S. I’d like to big up the Hull Truck Theatre which has finally opened it’s doors. They’ve managed to retain the charm and accessibility of the old building, everything looks pretty and new and I, for one, am impressed from my boots to my bonnet. Hull finally has an artistic base it can celebrate and be proud of and I cannot applaud the driving forces behind the project hard enough. A job well done indeed and if I could take them all out for an evening of scotch and strippers, I would gladly do so.
(Well, what would Mr. Obama say? Yes….) Like many people, I’ve never given allotments a great deal of thought; or if I have, it’s been coloured by memories of childhood visits to muddy hell-holes to see my granddad. I recall dour men, grimly eking a couple of sorry-looking radishes from patches of soil that looked like slag-pits and one rum old cove who – for reasons best known to himself and his CPN – kept the rust-ravaged shell of a Morris Minor on his plot that each year yielded a bumper crop of stinging nettles. Mostly, I got the impression that the whole point of allotment-keeping was to escape “The Wife” by skulking in a shed. I saw them peering suspiciously from these clapboard wankatoria before sighing with blissful contentment and going back to their treasure troves of homebrew and back issues of Razzle. Once seen as the Utopian fantasies of 70’s hippies and sitcom characters, self-sufficiency is looking pretty damned valid; not only does it make sound economic sense for people to grow their own food, but with recent figures* showing that it takes four barrels of crude and half a blue whale’s worth of oil to transfer an anaemic and pesticide-riddled cabbage from soil to plate, it’s an essential way to help preserve our dirtball’s dwindling stock of natural resources. One of those who definitely does know what he’s doing is 44-year old Steve Dales, a former City Planning officer. On his little (250sqm) patch of Heaven, he’s growing a startling variety of fruit and veg – even gourmet stuff like garlic and squash. Quite an eye-opener for a culinary philistine like myself who thought that such things actually only sprouted from plastic tubs on the shelves of Asda. Steve, however is unassuming about the whole thing….. Aside from the inventiveness, what really impresses about these people is that, in addition to shallots and broad beans (which I don’t like), a genuine sense of community (which I do like – in moderation) has grown up. Almost by accident, Steve and his friends have stumbled upon a co-operative; skills, know-how, and salvage are freely exchanged, and tasks are shared on a tacit quid pro quo basis. It’s frightfully heartening, if I’m honest – seeing the basic tenets of socialism being so unselfconsciously applied in a sort of “Unplanned Economy”.  Silverfox in his natural enviroment It’s certainly a far cry from those miserable damp hours spent squatting on a Gro-bag in my grandfather’s shed being bored shitless while some old bloke bitched about his neighbour’s shed overshadowing his pea-patch. The ramshackle sheds are being phased out, and many now store their equipment, relax, and cook in caravans (although the Council are obviously keen to crack down on such a dangerously harmless and pleasant practice), and it comes as no surprise that there are more and more people looking to get in on the trowel-wielding action. According to Steve, there are currently more than a thousand Hull citizens chafing on the Council’s waiting list, just aching to get their hands dirty with something a little more constructive than picking up dog-shit – and who can blame them? A plot costs around thirty quid a year, which seems like a pretty fair price to me, for food, exercise, and peace of mind (during my tour, I was almost freaked out by how quickly my customary cynicism and pessimism drained away). If I have one complaint to make – and I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t – it’s that I didn’t run into a “Permaculturess” who looked like a young Felicity Kendal. No matter; I might nip back there around harvest time and see if I can’t get my Good Life on. Silver Fox
CITY ANYMORE! “That was the best trip we’ve ever been on!” I bet you’ve been waiting for us to come out again (as usual) haven’t yer? Well there’s been a good reason for the delay (honest!) Apart from the fact that so many people keep us waiting for advertising artwork, articles, details, etc.. (and some also take ages to pay!)… we had to wait and see if we were still gonna be in the Premier league next season. We’re not… but who cares! We’re just ooking forward to the Championship now. “Siverware,we don’t care, follow Hull City everywhere!” The last issue of Tenfootcity came out at the beginning of April and was a satirical attack on the General Election. (Don’t trust any of ‘em!)This new issue of the magazine reflects the pride we have in our locality and has a general theme of highlighting local independent enterprise and even touches on “alternative lifestyles” within our city. However anyone chooses to live their life is fine by us (as long as they’re not really hurting anyone!) but what’s actually most important to us, at Tenfootcity, is that we encourage an autonomous and independent way of thinking, which is why we’ve continually espoused the “Love Local” attitude over the past 4 years since we first launched the mag. We also cover the rise to Premiership level of Art for the superb Hull Truck Theatre Company, as well as helping to advertise, market and promote loads of other diverse independent businesses of this city. Support as many of them as you can…. It all eventually benefits us all in the long run, if we try to keep things “in house” as it were. (And don’t forget to always ask for Tenfootcity discounts wherever you are – be cheeky, it works!) This magazine is run by a group of locally-based genuine Hull people. All writers, photographers, designers and illustrators are local (and all get paid for their input – but not much!) and it is printed by a local Hull family business. So, with the “Local” overkill out of the way… lets enjoy the Summer and the World Cup. Have a good look through the mag when it appears on the streets and it’ll get you well in tune with the area and at the same time it should also entertain/inform/anger and/or amuse you. (Please delete as appropriate.) Enjoy yourselves. Laters. Editorial team member.
P.S. Hull’s got Talent!
The Summer issue of Tenfootcity will be out on the streets of Hull at the end of June 2010. |
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