job done

Artscool, it must be said, was a huge success. It was also shattering. There were kids of all ages coming onto campus from throughout the Crewe area this week, and I was part of the squad of students who looked after them! I have never seen so many sprogs: they were all over the place.

I’m quite tired now, so I won’t write much. I’ll just say this week was a true credit to joss west-burnham, kerri tomkinson, and everyone involved.

now, though, I need my bed!


Okay, I freely admit I’m an extrovert. Or rather, I’m a damn fool: something in me wants to show off, regardless to potential cost to life and limb. Whenever there’s an opportunity to make an arse of myself, you bet I will.

I better explain. Every night this week there has been a performance at art school of some description. Local school kids come onto campus and perform either dance or drama or whatever. At the end of this evening, there was a little time left over, so a couple of my fellow MMU students went on stage and started to rap. I was sat by the ramp up to the stage, and suddenly the urge took me. I flew up the ramp; the defiant went up on her back wheels, I stopped on stage, dropped my lightwriter, picked it up, turned my hazard lights on and danced my head off!

Apparently, everyone loved it. I was cheered! My two rapping mates said I should do it again tomorrow, and told me not to apologise. It was fun, either way. Being an extrovert rules.

tomorrow could be fun

Today, I took it easy, having exhausted myself lugging chairs yesterday. It was, I think, a quieter day at art school, with fewer kids, so there was less to do. I spent most of the day at the stage, watching proceedings, or on the help desk, or zooming about campus offering help to people. Tomorrow, I’m due to be a student helpertype for Springfield school, who are coming in to perform. Springfield is a local special school – one must raise an eyebrow at the choice of yours truly as liaison for that particular school though.

I better not get political with them: they man not like me explaining away their schools right to existence.

ruddy chairs

Another long, tirring day it’s been. this afternoon we had to lay out 500 chairs on grass, which ment carrying (or dragging) them about 40 metres from their pile. I’m shattered: we cripple writers arent built for manual labour. it was fun though. must get to bed. for the reasson why being a crip rules (or one of them) go here


I’m out and about every day this week; believe it or not, I have a job (kinda). It’s at uni helping to look after kids in art school. They do performances, artwork etc, and we ‘student ambassadors’ just help out running and fetching. Today we had about ninety kids on campus; tomorrow there will be 400.

I need my rest. It’s going to be a long day! However, I promise to post a nice long rant here sometime soon – my blogs been crap recently.

cameron on johnathan ross

David Cameron, I note was on Jonathon Ross’s show last night. To be honest, he came across as quite a decent guy. The interview made me re-think my attitude towards him – he seems genuine and I think he told the truth. Too much of politics is reduced to childish bickering, whereas it should be about adult discussion, and I think mr. Cameron made that point. I shouldn’t have called him names.

He has the air of a PM in waiting, just as Blair had. After that interview I am a little more comfortable with this, and less inclined to decry it as a facade. Yet the fact remains he is anti-inclusion: for this reason, I cannot support him. The simple fact is that special education ruins kids prospects in life, and inclusion, despite the claims of condescending parents who I frankly doubt understand the issue, is the best way forward. It is vital, of course, we implement it properly, but I genuinely believe it is the best option. I therefore cannot fully endorse Cameron, but the prospect of having him as PM seems, this morning, a lot less abhorrent.

Mind you, Ross was right when he pointed out that there isn’t a lot of difference between the two main parties these days. When Cameron is elected, it’ll just be Blair mark 2.


It has been a long day, and tomorrow will probably be even fuller. I’ve got a job helping kids do art, although i’m not sure I’m mucb help. Since i’m not very enthusiastic tonight, I’ll send you somewhere quite interesting instead

the game

Blimey! I have never seen so many chavs!

I went to the pub with my neighbour, Mark, to watch the match last night. It was the first England game I had ever seen in a pub and it was quite5 an experience. The place was packed; I mean, chock full. Most people there were wearing red England shirts and odd trousers which were white and too short.

Here be chavs!

Truth be told, it was ok. Steve and jen turned up for the first half, and we talked for a bit, but then went: I think the place was too crowded. Me and mark were seated, so we could barely see any of the numerous screens dotted around the establishment – there were too many heads in the way. Mid you, we didn’t miss much, although the sheer intensity of the roar when England scored was something to experience.. amazing!

The match was not the best, but at least we are through.

diaspora of the goodsells

I love my independence; these last two years at university have granted me more freedom than ever. The freedom to come and go as I please; to scoot over to the library; to go to the pub with my mates ad win the pub quiz; to stay up till nigh on midnight reading; to go to Chester to see my friends band (if your reading this, charlotte, when should I come again?); to go to discos dressed as a fairy; to hang around campus in a skirt; to do a billion things I previously thought impossible.

Yet while I love all this, I also feel the need to go home. I am, now , my own man, with agency, but I am also a son and a brother. In short I feel the need to collect the Diaspora of the goodsells: I want to sit again around the kitchen table drinking proper beer while both my brothers take the piss out of me and the I call physics a waste of time! I want to hug mum and dad. I want my father to read to me again.