In short, Wednesday ruled and was very dull at the same time. My new P.A came at 2pm, as predicted. The problem was, there was nothing to do: the film I wanted 2c wasn’t on anywhere in Cheshire, and poor Becs had a doctor’s appointment so I couldn’t go see her. I thought it necessary to give mark a tour of the campus, then we checked out the library to make sure “inside I’m dancing” wasn’t playing, which it wasn’t. In the end, I we borrowed a DVD of Alien from the library, and watched it on my computer.

However, I better explain something. Wednesday was the day of the Halloween disco, and I had packed my black leotard and a pair of thick tights in case I got chance to dress up. That morning, I had asked my home helper what I could wear with them, and she had bought a pair of pink bunny ears, bowtie and bob-tail for me. She said when the home helper came to give me my tea, she would help me change for the party.

But no home helper came, so I had to ask mark to give me my tea, and…err…I couldn’t waste the chance of going to the party dressed as a bunny girl, could I? Poor mark didn’t know what he’d got himself into! Oddly, though, he already knew the best way to put tights on, and a short while later, I was heading off to brandies bar, cute white tail attached to the back of my leotard by safety pin. I felt I looked pretty, and got many complements from the girls at the bar (most dressed as cats) and a few of the boys. My friends were very surprised, but I think they were cool with it.

However, better not wear my bunny girl outfit too often outside, as I am now nursing quite a bad cold. How girls do not die from the cold I do not know, but I must admit it was surprisingly comfortable. and yes, mum, i am doing SOME work.

Mark s. starts work with me today. should b cool. thinking about ggoing to watch “inside i’m dancing”. will let uou know how we get on.

hay, mark. remember when we used o watch the a-team?

…..that’ll be cool.

seriously, tho, I have a lot of hope for this, still maintaining that, after the superb job peter jackson did on the “unfilmable” lord of the rings, hollywood can film anything.

this article came to my attention from my social worker, julie this morning. It’s so upsetting. I wanna help this girl. with the right help, I think jemma is heading for truly great things.

Thanks, julie.

was just watching this film with est. I have never, ever seen a less funny comedy. why jack nicolson made it i dont know.

last night my parents came round to interview a prospective personal assistant. Things are already pretty cool here, bbut it’ll be nice to replace social services home help with my own helper. This wway I can get out more, say to the arthouse cinema iin stoke. Anyway, the interview went very well, and the vacancy was filled. Nice enough bloke, and I look forward to dealing with him.

It struck me tho, that when the time came to say goodbye to my parents, I didn’t start blubbing like I used to. Perhaps I’m getting more mature? err…perhaps not.

My email system at uni is still dodgy, so I’m writing this here because its the best way of getting infomation to the right people. I keep this blog for a laugh: to let family and friends know howI’m getting along, and what I think of stuff. I did not intend to hurt anyone through it, but I have. I grossly misrepresented the views of my father and older brother, who mean no harm to anyone, least of all Charlotte wyatt.I’m sorry for any offense my rediculous site has caused. ok the fight ends here. I need an’ug.

Last night college had organised a poetry recital at a local pub, near uni. Robert, my teacher had had a word with me about it, and we agreed to meet at 7pm for him to drive me to the pub. Given that social services come to help me eat at 6.45, I decided to buy a sandwich at lunch for my tea. I can scoff sandwiches quite quickly.

6.45 came, and went. No helper.

50.nope

6.55. Uh oh. I decided to go out myself and try to eat on my own. I left a message about where I had gone with my flatmates, and headed, sandwich in hand, for the canteen.

Robert was already there, waiting. “I was getting worried” he said. I explained my predicament, and he very kindly offered to help me eat. Imagine it: one’s writing lecturer feeding you a ham and tomato buttie! It was almost surreal. I felt rather strange, and guilty.

The rest of the evening didn’t go too badly. The stairs in the pub which everyone except myself was worried about weren’t a problem. The poetry itself was first rate, and the student they had asked to introduce the thing did a fine job. There were many quite serious, deep poems – I felt like crying at one stage – but these were well balanced by comic poems. My own attempts were read by a mature student called John, and I think they were well received.

So, apart from the disaster at the beginning, and scaring tutors by going down the stairs on my arse, the evening went well. And, given my experience with something called a Diesel on Wednesday, I kept to the coke!

I just found the following on an american site;

[quote]Mom and Claire’s brother watched the September 11th videos showing on tv. It is amazing how it affects you all over again, like maybe they just forgot how really bad it was… mom teared up and could hardly talk… it was just horrible for everyone. Prayers go out for those people… the victims and the survivors of this awful tragedy.[/quote] they show repeats of 9/11 on tv in the us. why? to stir up feelings? supprt for bush’s war. is this the state of american democracy? how very, very underhand.

This morning, before esther arrived, I was hanging around th net and I came across this short film. It’s a parody of michael moore’s work, and draws a parelell between 9/11 and…wait for t…the battle of helm’s deep. even though it’s clearly pro-war and probably pro-bush, I cant help but love this film. I was amused to see their version of moore claiming that there was no link between sauron and saruman, and that Mordor was, in fact, a peace-loving nation.

I just read this article about inside i’m dancing. I mustn’t comment till i’ve seen the film, but I’m irked that they haven’t used disabled actors.

Me and my parents were talking last night about what it is to be human. Two factors had sparked this debate: the murder of ken biggley and the decision of the charlotte wyatt case. Firstly, we were debating over whether charlotte was human – I think she most certainly is, reguardless of what she can and cannot do. from a very reductionist standpoint, she cannot do what most other humans do: talk, think, love. This was the crux of my dads argument last night, and I think its bollox. She is loved by her parents, she loooks like a human. she should be valued as any other human being and given the chance to live. After all, doctors once said similr things of me.

Later in the evening, we got to talking about the bigley murder. This discusts me, as it will most people, but at one stage I forgot myself and dscribed his captors s not human. dad pulled me over, saying “as soon as we define such people as not human, we forget that they have motives; as soon as we define them as animals, they become easier to kill, and we become as bad as them.” dad wad, of course, right, but it struck me as odd that he could define a disabled baby as not being fully human, and then defend the main tennet of libealism so eloquenttly. Not sure I understand.

I just wanna note that my newest garment fits. Feel slightly wary of saying this, but its my blog and I’ll say what I wish. my new leotard fits perfectly,and I especially like its short sleeves. why I like dressing so much I don’t know, I just do. thinking of wearing something feminine on halowe’en.

On Wednesday s, as it stands right now I don’t have any lessons – I have no lessons in the morning, and all universities and colleges leave Wednesday afternoons free. Because it’s the beginning of term, I don’t have much work, and Esther proposed it might be nice to use the time to go explore Alsager. Very kindly, she and her mother came to help me explore the city. Mrs. Everett wanted to visit the bake house in the village, and I wanted to see if there are any decent book stores there.

Perhaps surprisingly for a university town, we found only one book store, but this was well stocked. Having got my parents to order the books I need for uni, I went in to investigate the price of Michael Palin’s Himalaya book. This was £20, and given that I have limited money, and that my parents will hopefully be getting it for me for Christmas, I thought it best not to buy it.

Alsager struck me as a well-to-do, middle-class area, full of rather large houses. It is the epitomie of affluential suburbia, and the shops which line it’s high street reflect this: mostly estate agents, coffee shops and high quality clothes stores. Mrs Everett bought two dozen or so sausage rolls for her sons from chatwins, but mostly we just did some window shopping.

I must say that both mrs Everett and Esther are very kind indeed. It must not have been easy to come all the way from Crewe just to take me shopping, and although I offered to pay for the coffee, they refused point blank to accept my money. Mrs Everett offered to pay for Himalaya, which was naturally out of the question – I’d have felt so guilty. She’s too kind.

However – and my parents won’t like this – on our way home we passed a dance store, synonymous with middle-class areas. Let me explain that, as a replacement for intimacy with ‘the fairer sex’ I have taken to cross dressing, and one of my favourite garments of lust are leotards. like it or not – and part of me agrees with my parents and brothers that this is a disgusting pastime – my dressing is a part of my persona. It brings me much joy, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to order a beautiful black leotard. It will cost 11 quid, and yes, Dad, I feel guilty, but I really need this part of my life. Please don’t be too angry.

After that, we strolled home, where Esther helped me get lunch, and we all ate together. As I said, I’m very grateful to Esther and mrs Everett. They were very helpful, and I need a way to repay them. Any suggestions?

I was up in Durham yesterday, visiting mark, my brother. He lives there with Kat, and I always like going up: I love travelling, and crossing the Pennines into the north-east is always beautiful. There is always something about car journeys which allows one to think.

We got there early, because dad was driving, and we took the Octavia. Mark lives in Ushaw Moor, a village just outside the city. It’s a pretty, quiet little place, but mot of all I love visiting Mark because I’m in awe of his brain: he’s doing a PHD in physics!

Massive brain or no, sometimes he gets stuff wrong. Over lunch, we began to discuss the case of Charlotte Wyatt, whom the NHS want to let die despite her parents wishes. Mark – and everyone else in the room – said that she should be allowed to die, but in my opinion this is murder. Life, I believe, should always be preserved, no matter what. My brother presented the ‘suffering’ argument, but given that A) suffering is relative and B) charlotte cannot give her opinion on the subject, this argument doesn’t wash. As I said, relatively speaking, I suffer, should I die? I also made the points that I was against abortion of disabled babies – which, effectively, this is an extension of – and that I too was resuscitated at birth. Should dr. Kay have given me mouth to mouth? I think so, and the same concept applies to charlotte.

Now mark thinks I’m fascist. I think mark should stick to physics.