I thought you guys might like to see a picture taken at lilleshall, as an example of what we got up to

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I must have spotted a naked girl on the cieling…maybe

Yesterday, I went to see my mates Rich and Michelle from hebden. It was great to see them again,, although I must have surprised them greatly, appearing, as it were, from out of the blue.

Anyway, while surfing the net, I stumbled across this article about Saturn’s moon Enceladus this morning. Apparently, its polar regions appear hotter than it’s equator. How odd.

” High-resolution imagery shows the southern polar region to be relatively smooth – usually a good indicator of recent activity – but cut by a number of long, dominant cracks.”

‘ere, does this mean it has a hot arse?

Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more, or seal up the wall with English dead.

If we lose the next test match, I’m officially beginning the campaign to bring Australia back under rule from London, just as we did with the United states.

who’s with me?

Quite what the waiters in portofino made of me, I don’t know, but they acquitted themselves magnificently.

I better explain. In alsager, there’s a place called papa’s, which does really good take away pizza. At university, I often get bill to order me a pizza, and I’ve developed a taste for pizza from proper pizzerias. Believe me, the frozen variety from Tesco simply doesn’t compare. Well, today, I had a hankering for a pizza, so I trundled down into town in my wheelchair, in search of junk food.

But I couldn’t find any. The only pizza outlets weren’t open, or looked rather sleazy. I took a look at the caf in the open-air market, and thought ‘better not’. On the way down, I asked the Italian gentleman in Portofino – the town’s one good Italian restaurant – whether he knew of any good Italian places.

‘Well, we open at 12, and we do pizza’. He said. Twelve noon was in forty minutes, and I thought portofino was too nice for me to eat alone in. I make a mess, so I continued my pizza hunt elsewhere. In the market, I met up with grandma, who combed my hair, but I thought better of eating there. The other pizzerias in town did not open ’till five, so at twelve, I rolled back to portofino, expecting to get a pizza to eat out – perhaps at a picnic table in the park.

However, before I could say anything, I was invited up the step and to a table. I had already selected the pizza I wanted from the menu in the window, so I asked for it, and a drink. The people there know me and my family, as we sometimes eat there, so it was not as if I was a random cripple off the street. I was treated to the respect anyone would expect, the waiters holding my cup for me as I drank. The pizza came, and I ate it with my hands as respectably as possible, and having got the waiter’s permission to do so.

When I had eaten, I asked for the bill. It came, and I told the waiter where to get my money, insisting he take a tip. It occurs to me that I would not have had the gall to do such a thing just a short wile ago, but I feel I can do anything now, even eat at posh, if quiet, restaurants. I feel that this past year has given me the confidence to do such things.

I probably won’t eat pizza there every week, but I enjoyed myself. I sometimes have romantic visions of writers as romantic beings sipping Chianti or absinth in caf corners. Well, I may not have been sipping Chianti – it would have gone to my head – but I now see that vision can pertain to me too. I am not on the periphery of society, but wholly within it.

If it lets me make such steps, perhaps I should get hungry for pizza more often.

I’ve always had a problem with manual dexterity, so, as a child, certain games were ruled out. No doubt we have all played rock paper scissors: as a kid, my scissors were always pretty indistinguishable from paper, and I found playing the game hard. However, now the internet has the solution. Its pretty cool, but it could get annoying.

After about 5 seconds!

My little brother Luke studies Bioinformatics at UMIST. This is a little heard of scientific field which aims to model living organisms using computers, so in part it aims to replace or supplement drugs testing on animals. I think this is a good area to study: theoretically, you should be able to get better results from computers.

However, there will always need to be testing on living non-human animals. Computers are open to human error because they are programmed by humans. Animal testing ha been, and remains, the best way to test drugs, especially in the latter stages of testing. Thus, this type of experimenting needs to continue if we are to be sure that the drugs of the future are perfectly safe.

This is not to say I do not have sympathy for the animals involved. Here we enter an ethical and philosophical minefield: first, do these beasts feel pain, or object to what is being done to them? They can’t communicate with us, so how do we know? We could try to handle this in terms of brain size and functionality,, but then we would need to set a cut-off point between feeling and unfeeling, which would essentially be arbitrary. Humans, the varied lot we are, have a range of cognitive capacities: those described as having PMLD are no less human than I am, and I would hope we would all puke if anyone suggested using such people in experiments. The case has been made elsewhere that animals have the abilities of human babies, and thus should be awarded the rights of such.

We have no way of knowing the capacities of animals for certain, and given that the safety of our medicines is at stake, I think such tests should continue. We have no choice but to lay aside our ethical concerns for the time being. I am certainly against the campaigners currently terrorising laboratories which use non-human animals: they are hugely misguided, and let emotion stand in the way of logic. Scientists today issued a declaration that they would use alternative means where possible, but the protestors, it seems, still aren’t happy. Do they want all of medical science to halt? If they had their way, I’d have died at or shortly after childbirth, for I needed drugs once tested on animals.

Moreover, their means are deplorable. They behave like terrorists. They stole the body of a dead woman, just because of her connection to a farm which bred guinea pigs for laboratories. What is silly here is the guinea pig would not exist in it’s modern form were it not for this purpose? Where, perchance, is their natural habitat?

These people are ruled by misguided sentimentality rather than logic, and frankly I doubt most of them understand the science involved.

How totally stupid.

Do you know, this holiday is going rather well so far. I’m watching many films, although not as much as I should ideally; I’m working through my collection of michael palin videos and dvd’s again; I’ve been going out rather a lot in mmy wheelchair, and have descovered the sunday car boot sale is good for indulging my dubious hobbies; I’ve had time to read; I’ve been able to go to alton towers and lilleshall sans parents, so hurrah for independence. Oh, dublin ruled too, and so will montreall and now dad has a new toy, the exact nature of which is probably classified, but I’m gonna have fun with it. I think it came from Q branch!

I know there has been much publicity on it recently, but I thought I’d try out google maps this morning… its just so cool! There isn’t much detail – you can’t use it to perve at nekkid sunbathers in their back garden – but I found my house. Go look if you haven’t already done so.

There is nothing like travelling. To experience new lands, new cultures. Brave new worlds. Like so many people before me, I have been bitten with the travel bug, and hope to remain happily infected for the rest of my days. This virus is a pandemic, and it is also ancient. It draws us to water, which once forced us into an upright position, and made us loose our body hair. In other words, I reckon there is an evolutionary advantage to itchy feet.

Perhaps I drank too much Guinness. It is so much better when drunk in it’s home town though. Especially in a pub, smoke free and full off life. When sucked through a straw, it hits the top of the mouth, and registers as bitter, but the texture is creamy and it slides down the throat as smoothly as silk. Thus it seemed to disappear far too fast.

There is far too much to tell you, were I to do it justice, my arm would ache for all the typing. As you walk through the streets of the city, ones ears are filled with music: drummers from brazil playing rhythms so complex and layered one stands and watches in awe; saxophonists playing the purest, coolest jazz; violinists playing Bach and Mozart. Music echoes off the walls of this ancient, proud city. It issues from pub doors and windows, drawing you in to join the fun. This is probably what Irish people term ‘crack’, and I love it.

Outside the city, there is a land so beautiful that I wish I had time to explore it. We visited a national park which was amazingly adapted for wheelchair users. All the paths were tarmaced, but it had not changed the sheer beauty of the area. I could not help thinking how good it would be to take my electric wheelchair – The Defiant – a long those paths. My parents disagreed. I think they had visions of me ending up in the lake. Anyway, passing through that area, I was struck by how evocative of Tolkien everything was. Since his created languages were based partly on Gaelic, the place names reminded me of Elvish. This, of course, reminded us all of dad’s bicardi-enduced claim, many years ago, that the Irish were all elves. If this is so, then Ireland is indeed a worthy valinor. Moreover, I couldn’t help thinking how cool it would be to make fantasy films in that area.

Four days was too little time, yet I have so many cool memories of Ireland. On Wednesday night we had a fish supper that ranked among the best meals of our lives. It was my first taste of shark, and the steak I had was phenomenal. The wine dad chose, I might add, was excellent.

Thus we all had an excellent time. It passed too quickly, and home life seems mundane. Yet it reminded me that there is a world waiting for me to explore.

And I intend to.

the problem with holidays is returning. i usually get home tired, achy and feeling decidedly odd. its always hot for some reason. you find your room inthe mess you left it in. oh well, at least one has the memories.

I’ll tell you all about dublin tomorrow.

While Grandma is holding down the fort at home, my parents, Luke and I are in Dublin. It’s a fantastic city. I love its vibrancy, although mum and dad always want to be in bed by 10:30. Anyway, I have had chance to sample some of the city’s thousands of pubs and it wasn’t until the second or third when I noticed something: nobody was smoking. Absolutely nobody. It’s not until you visit a smoke-free pub that you notice the difference; the air is so clear and you can actually taste the beer properly. At college, Brandys is always full of smokers and I had kind of come to expect it. After all, both my tutors smoke and I regularly have coffee with them while they puff away. I don’t want to become a so-called “health facist” but it’s so much better without smoke, I do hope Britain institutes similar laws soon.

Two odd things struck me yesterday: why is cricket, a game dependant on good weather, one of the national sports of England,, upon which the heavens are prone to open; moreover, why do they open with such vengeance on the day we go up to watch the match?

I love cricket. All my family does. It is a game which requires patience; a game which one can see mature over the course of four or five days, while bowlers do battle with batsmen. Granted, it may take some time between wickets, but if one observes carefully, a lot is happening during that time. It is a game of tactics, of intellect. Chess with bats.

So my family were greatly disappointed. Mark, Luke and Kat had come down, and we had all gone up to watch the cricket. But it raned. and it rained, and it rained. At about half two we gave up, and drove home, wet and more than a little disappointed. Nobody more so than dad, who got us all into the sport by playing it in the park with us since I was in a double buggy with Luke.

Thus we came home, and the sun came out. After two seconds of deliberation, me, my brothers and Kat bundled into the car and headed for Manchester, our tickets still valid. We were all feeling decidedly guilty that, by that time, dad was feeling too unwell to join us.

We all came to the conclusion that we were jinxed, because as we were approaching the ground, it started to rain. Most people started to leave, so we had to fight our way through the crowds – me in my manual chair – to get to our seats. When we did, I hunkered down under a huge am-ex brolly, pondering the stupidity of playing a game so dependent on good whether in England. However, patience pays off eventually, and the skies cleared, there was a pitch inspection, and half an hour later , the players came out….

Only to play six overs. Sis poultry overs. We didn’t even get a wicket! The sky was still blue, yet they retreated to the pavilion. The only reason for this that I can think of is channel 4’s intention not to disrupt its Saturday evening schedule. The television stations which cover such events are becoming increasingly powerful. After all, there would be no play without TV revenues these days. It still, however, sucks, when you have waited all day to watch it live.

6 overs is better than none. It is still great to be among the crowd, watching their beer-fuelled antics. Thus, despite the rain, yesterday was a good day, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

readthis from john cleese, forward to be by mum. too funny not to post! To the citizens of the United States of America, In the light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective today. Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories.

Except Utah, which she does not fancy.

Your new prime minister (The Right Honourable Tony Blair, MP for the 97.85% of you who have until now been unaware that there is a world outside your borders) will appoint a minister for America without the need for further elections.

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire will be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed. To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up “revocation” in the Oxford English Dictionary.

Then look up “aluminium”. Check the pronunciation guide.> You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it. The letter ‘U’ will be reinstated in words such as ‘favour’and ‘neighbour’, skipping the letter ‘U’ is nothing more than laziness on your part. Likewise, you will learn to spell ‘doughnut’ without skipping half the letters.

You will end your love affair with the letter ‘Z’ (pronounced ‘zed’ not ‘zee’) and the suffix “ize” will be replaced by the suffix “ise”. You will learn that the suffix ‘burgh is pronounced ‘burra’ e.g. Edinburgh.

You are welcome to respell Pittsburgh as ‘Pittsberg’ if you can’t cope with

correct pronunciation. Generally, you should raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. Look up “vocabulary”. Using the same twenty seven words interspersed with filler noises such as “like” and “you know” is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. Look up “interspersed”. There will be no more ‘bleeps’ in the Jerry Springer show. If you’re not old enough to cope with bad language then you shouldn’t have chat shows. When you learn to develop your vocabulary then you won’t have to use bad language as often.

There is no such thing as “US English”. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter ‘u’ and the elimination of “-ize”.

You should learn to distinguish the English and Australian accents. It really isn’t that hard. English accents are not limited to cockney, upper-class twit or Mancunian (Daphne in Frasier). You will also have to learn how to understand regional accents – Scottish dramas such as “Taggart” will no longer be broadcast with subtitles. While we’re talking about regions, you must learn that there is no such place as Devonshire in

England. The name of the county is “Devon”. If you persist in calling it

Devonshire, all American States will become “shires” e.g.Texasshire, Floridashire, Louisianashire.

Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as thegood guys. Hollywood will be required to cast English actors to play English characters. British sit-coms such as “Men Behaving Badly” or “Red Dwarf” will not be re-cast and watered down for a wishy-washy American audience who can’t cope with the humour of occasional political incorrectness.

You should relearn your original national anthem, “God Save The Queen”, but only after fully carrying out task 1. We would not want you to get confused and give up half way through.

You should stop playing American “football”. There is only one kind of football. What you refer to as American “football” is not a very good game. The 2.15% of you who are aware that there is a world outside your bordersmay have noticed that no one else plays “American” football. You will no longer be allowed to play it, and should instead play proper football. Initially, it would be best if you played with the girls. It is a difficult game. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which is similar to American “football”, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like nancies). We are hoping to get together at least a US Rugby sevens side by 2005. You should stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the ‘World Series’ for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.15% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. Instead of baseball, you will be allowed to play a girls’ game called “rounders” which is baseball without fancy team strip, oversized gloves, collector cards or hotdogs.

You will no longer be allowed to own or carry guns. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous in public than a vegetable peeler. Because we don’t believe you are sensible enough to handle potentially dangerous items, you will require a permit if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

July 4th is no longer a public holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but only in England. It will be called “Indecisive Day”.

All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and it is for your owngood. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean. All road intersections will be replaced with roundabouts. You will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips. Fries aren’t even French, they are Belgian though 97.85% of you (including the guy who discovered fries while in

Europe) are not aware of a country called Belgium. Those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called “crisps”. Real chips are thick cut and fried in animal fat. The traditional accompaniment to chips is beer which should be served warm and flat.

Waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

As a sign of penance 5 grams of sea salt per cup will be added to alltea made within the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, this quantity to be doubled for tea made within the city of Boston itself.

The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all, it is lager. From November 1st only proper British Bitter will be referred to as “beer”, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as “Lager”. The substances formerly known as “American Beer” will henceforth be referred to as “Near-Frozen Knat’s Urine”, with the exception of the product of the American Budweiser company whose product will be referred to as “Weak Near-Frozen Knat’s Urine”. This will allow true

Budweiser (as manufactured for the last 1000 years in Pilsen, Czech

Republic) to be sold without risk of confusion.

From November 10th the UK will harmonise petrol (or “Gasoline” as youwill be permitted to keep calling it until April 1st 2005) prices with the former USA. The UK will harmonise its prices to those of the former USA and the Former USA will, in return, adopt UK petrol prices(roughly $6/US gallon – get used to it).

You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns,lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you’re not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you’re not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you’re not grown up enough to handle a gun. 15. Please tell us who killed JFK. It’s been driving us crazy. Tax collectors from Her Majesty’s Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all revenues due (backdated to 1776).

16. Last but not the least, and for heaven’s sake…..it’s Nuclear as in

“clear” NOT Nucular.

Thank you for your co-operation and have a great day John Cleese

Not Much to report tonight. I spent most of today out and about in my wheelchair. I must admit, I’ve never seen Congleton park so beautiful. Anyway, knowing my concern with the evolution/creation debate (I use the term loosely – its pretty one-sided) my brother Luke sent me this quite brilliant article found in the National Geographic. It contains just enough sarcasm to keep it entertaining. Cheers bro.

And,, before I forget, happy birthday Mark!

ooh, I’m happy. I’m listening to frank zappa being played on 6music. My lsa at macc college, Will, introduced me to frank zappa; It’s some of the weirdest, funkiest music ever, with some really cool instrumentals. I’d recommend ‘Catholic girls’, ‘crew slut’ and ‘don’t eat the yellow snow’.

today I would like to address the comments Mark made on my blog about my use of the ”us and ‘them” mindset. I must admit I find this subject incredibly difficult: is there a disability subculture, set apart from the dominant, able-bodied culture, or is there one homogenous mass described as ‘human’? this question is hard for me to answer, because, as usual, I see both sides of the argument.

The disabled are an odd group of people. Disabled people can belong to any religion, any ethnic group. They may have grossly divergent political views. Indeed, they may have nothing in common with each other, save that they are disabled. With ethnicity (I do not use the term race) one’s direct family belongs to the same group, and one may select friends from that group, so the case for a subculture is clearer. Yet, with the disabled, it is not so clear-cut. I have many nondisabled friends, and a nondisabled family. Indeed, even the term disabled is contentious: just because dad can’t run as fast as the spandex-clad athletes on T.V, he pointed out last night, does that make him disabled?

The question is, are we a subculture, a group of people who are somehow linked? If so, what links us? The answer, I think, is necessity. Disabled people, for the most part, have certain experiences in common, ranging from being unable to enter public places to being pushed into special schools. It is shared experiences that bring us together – common struggles. We all have similar problems, and I think many people find the knowledge that we are not alone in those problems comforting. Moreover, it is only by coming together and combining wills that these problems may be solved.

Now, this may seem to imply that, as a single group of people, we face an equally united enemy. Not so. I do not think we are being systematically repressed by an opposing culture, just as black people were once repressed by the white people. While I maintain that there are parallels between segregated education and aphartied, the reasons behind the former are not the same as the reasons behind the latter. Segregated education arose out of a grossly misguided concern for the wealth fare of disabled children, rather than a hatred of them, or a will to keep them out of the way. Granted, I suspect that some may harbour the unconscious urge to repress disabled people, butt I am sure these people are in a tiny minority. There is no overt group of people campaigning to relieve us of our rights, but rather an inherited status quo which was not geared towards the needs of the disabled.

By and large however, society is slowly gearing itself towards the inclusion of disabled people. Almost everyone agrees upon the necessity of this inclusion. Thus, there is an ‘us’, but paradoxically not a ‘them’, as there is no overt, opposing force. We have already seen that the disabled are a group o9nly because they face the same struggles, but once they work together to remove these problems, they will have as much in common as any other two people.

Thus we are a subculture through necessity. At the same time, I have many good friends who are disabled, but they would be my friends regardless, and the same applies to my nondisabled friends. I am, I must admit, proud to belong to this subculture, which has so many great people in it, but I am equally proud to belong to humankind. You see now why I find this subject so complex. It is full of paradoxes: we are all the same, yet we are all different; the disabled are a group, yet we are innately no different to anyone else.

Regardless, I will continue to campaign for the rights of disabled people. I got a sense of belonging at the Onevoice weekend which I have not felt before – the sense of security one gets when one is around people you have a great deal in common with. This is a group of people to witch I belong and can contribute. There is no ‘them’ to oppose disabled people, but there certainly is an ‘us’.

a few minutes ago, I saw my father jump around the front room in a manner that would have seen my brothers and I severely told off by mum. The reason for this show of boyish euphoria was England’s magnificent victory in the cricket. Well, it was magnificently narrow – perhaps it was so sweet because the margin of victory was so tight. Two runs! It could hardly have been closer. We go into the third test all square. I can hardly wait!

Although I have never seen her stand up show, I’m quite a fan of Francesca Martinez, who appeared on last night’s episode of Extras. It seems logical to me that the more disabled people appear on t.v, the better, provided it is done in an unpatronising manner. To present us crips as the ‘typical’, fallible humans we are can only be a good thing. This is why I was pleased to see Martinez appearing on Extras last night. Gervais’ humour is, by and large, founded on the principle that the more the audience cringes, the better, so the inclusion of disability humour was an excellent choice. Most of the comedy came from the way that Martinez’s character always showed the bias in Gervais’, thwarting her chances of going out with her sister. He highlighted some of the prejudices in able-bodied society. Thus, mr Gervais is to be applauded.

However, one thing sits uneasily – why was she made into a religious person who hoped to be cured in heaven? This, however, was the only blemish on a commendable episode.

I’m currently reading ‘there and back again’ by Sean astin. It’s allegedly a behind the scenes look at how The Lord of the Rings was made. It allows me a lot of insight into Peter Jackson’s working style, so despite its frankly dire prose (it’s written like a blog entry of a paranoid actor) it is worth a read. Jackson is one of my cinematic heroes, and he appears to be one of astin’s too.

However, this morning, I found a gem of a piece of trivia which appeals to my perverse sense of humour:

‘What I had seen, in fact, was a clip from Forgotten Silver; ostensibly a short-film documentary made for New Zealand public television, the film’s subject was a man named Colin McKenzie, a Kiwi filmmaker who…supposedly pioneered synchronised sound in 1908 and colour film in 1911. according to the documentary, McKenzie was denied fame on any grand scale not only because he was working in new Zealand, an artistic outpost, but also because he committed a few, shall we say, tactical errors: his sound film featured Chinese dialogue (understood by no one who saw it); the groundbreaking colour film included scenes of topless natives on the island of Tahiti, and thus was deemed ‘obscene’ and quickly pulled from circulation.’

(there and back again, Astin, 2004)

I love it! Man discovers colour film. Man makes porn! How typical. …if only it were true. This hoax was so believable that, when he was found out, jackson had to apologise, publicly, even to the prime minister.

Hardly blogworthy, but funny as!

Yesterday, I went to Alton towers, which was very cool. We had a great day, but I couldn’t help feeling guilty: we went on about twelve rides, including Rita (acceleration on this must be experienced to be believed) Air (I’m sure I drenched someone) and Oblivion (wheeee), whereas apparently your lucky to get on four or five if you have to queue. I had a brief guilt complex – you normally have to pay extra to get fast-tracked, but we didn’t. it was simply because I was disabled.

I found myself asking: is this morally justified? I think it was: firstly, its probably physically easier if I just skip the queue, and secondly, well…there have to be some advantages to being a crip!

could this be symptomatic of a growing racial tension in this country. I suspect it might be. there are a few thuggish elements here who could be using the london attacks as an excuse to further their own racist aims. any thoughts?