trouble at t’mill

I just returned from my second wheelchair excursion of the day. It’s a nice day, if a little breezy, and I like being out and about. This morning I went shopping,,, visiting the wine shop, book shops etc. this afternoon I had a look in a few charity shops for clothes, but returned empty handed.

I noticed in the park that my batteries were getting low, so I decided to head home. Now, one off my oldest memories is of my dad showing me the weir on the path from the park up jewson’s hill. This is a waterfall with an old mill by it. I was in my buggy trying to get dad to push me closer and closer to the edge of the river. I was a fearless little brat!

I was going that way again today; there was the mill, whose wheel had long stopped moving. I don’t suppose it has been used for centuries. Yet it was then I heard a bagging: on the wheel, a man was working. The ancient trap door was open to the platform. This could only mean one thing – restoration.

I’m not sure what anyone would want to restore a mill for today – maybe its for a museum, maybe for gryff Rees-Jones. We seem to have a strange relationship to history – our desire to restore ad preserve the past almost indicates a desire to stop time, to live within history. Perhaps because the world is progressing so fast we desire to make stand still. It’s rather ironic then that the paddle-wheel of that mill,, which has stood still for so long, should, in a way, make time stop by turning once more.

telling ian

Two days ago, I went out in defiant to tell Ian brooks about Richard. Ian was at Hebden, but I wasn’t sure he would know. I know he’s in contact with a few of his friends there, and I suspected he would have been told, but felt it my duty to make certain. He and his younger brother, Rory, are the only other survivors of Hebden green school I’m in contact with.

So off I went, picking up a beer en route to soften the blow, just in case. Fortunately, he was in, and answered the door. He didn’t know about rich, though. A curious experience, really, having to tell someone of a death. Quite shitty, actually. Either way, we had a long talk.

I resolved, then, that I need to trace my old friends. At uni, I have more friends than I can count: people who I really like, many who I love. Folk I know I could trust with my life. Yet I need now to track down my older friends; I need to keep contact. The news of Richard’s death knocked m for six, and it still hurts every time I think about it, so I have been apprehensive to search more lest I receive more sad news. But not to search is not to know.

Ian told me Dave Giles had died, but the others may still be about. I must now find them for the sake of my old class at school.

thumb twidling

I’m rather pleased with myself. I already have 2000 words of my 4000 word essay, so I can do some relaxing. Mind you, to progress much further with it I’d need the film itself, which Amazon is yet to deliver, but I’m not too worried – there’s time. So now, half way there,, its time to unwind.

Do you know this is the first extended period of time that I’ve been at home since last year, since Christmas was spent in Australia. I find myself at something of a loss of what to do, other than reading and working. All my favourite items of clothing are at college, so I have a weird type of withdrawal: does one get spandex cravings? Anyway, I keep wanting to go out, only the weather’s not good today. Thus I’m both sad and happy, or rather bored and happy. quite a difference from the excitement of newquay

What I’ll be like over summer I have no idea.

charlie’s aunt

I’m too much of a critic these days I think. Last night my parents and I went to see ‘Charlie’s Aunt’ at the regent theatre, handley. It’s a Victorian farce by Brandon Thomas, and I must admit it was pretty well performed, but I think I disliked it because it lacked the panache of Wilde. It was, to my mind, devoid of subtlety and wit, and full of coincidences (mind you so is Wilde’s earnest). I just couldn’t get into it until the second act.

The problem is, I wobble; the more I know I have to stay still, the more I wobble. Thus every time I go to the theatre, where I know I have to stay still, the more I worry about my body and so the more I wobble. This is, needless to say, highly irritating, and probably gave rise to my critical eye.

It also doesn’t help that I have been used to highly intellectual stuff at uni – plays and prose which demand thought. Ten minutes into watching this play, I had decided it was clich ridden and vapid, lacking of much artistry, and slightly pantomimic. I could spot the plot coming a mile off. However, mum and dad seemed to really enjoy it: to be honest, it did have it’s funny points – such as someone pouring tea into a top hat – but, somehow I just felt negative. The dialogue, for instance, seemed too much of a parody, or an attempt at one by someone who doesn’t really know what he’s doing.

I feel really guilty about writing all this. it has been absolutely ages since I went to the theatre with my parents, and had been really looking forward to it. But it somehow missed the mark for me. Sorry guys.


I got back from newquay yesterday, and me and Charlie slept at a friends last night, so I only got home for Easter this morning. Dad just set my pc back up ready for three weeks of working on my Heimat essay, talking on msn and listening to mp3s. This sounds like fun, but not as fun as newquay was! There is something terrific abut going away with 17 good friends: everyone was buzzing with energy; there was always fun to be had.

Right: first things first. Heads up my roomies – Scott (hereafter referred to as camel) Becky, ness, Emma and the wonderful Charlie. Before I go much further, I better say how impressed I was with c this weekend – I asked her to do some personal assisting this weekend (makes sense to employ someone already going to help you eat, dress etc) and she was so great! I’d just like to express my thanks to her! This is a human being I respect in the utmost, and one of the finest people I’ll ever meet.

Now, time for the detail. No chopper rides this time, but something even better (well, in a way) – a club! Woohoo, did that rule! Saturday night we all got together for a social, then headed to a pub, then a club, then a second bigger club. I was determined not to be a lightweight and be taken home before midnight after two pints of bitter, so I paced myself as well as drinking red bull (something else to give to grandma?). as it turned out, I lasted till half three, outlasting most if my friends. It’s all about the red bull. I’m so pleased with myself for exorcising my lightweight reputation.

As for what happened in said club, I’ll just say it involved pretty 18-year-old girls in nurse outfits, more Tetley and red bull, and oxygen! Oh, and dancing – lots of that! Get this – I outdanced some big fat bald guy! He was trying to show off, which, if you ask me, is asking to be outdanced by a cripple full of red bull andd beer.

I’ve never felt so alive (except in said helicopter). It is a long time since I thought my life was limited by cp; I’m still learning how wrong I was though.

on adventures eve

I can never sleep the night before an adventure. Tomorrow me and about 17 of my friends head off down to newquay for jo’s birthday, and I can’t wait. I’ve n early start tomorrow – up at 5 to begin the 7 hour drive at 6 – so I’ll be in bed by ten tonight, I think. Although it’s of a quite different nature to the trips I take with my family, it still constitutes travel, the one thing I love most. The thrill of the open road; new places, and new people; eating in restaurants and trying new food; new experiences. I love it all.

As I say, I’m going with friends. They all know me well – well enough to take the piss anyway – so I’m not worried about this. as a cripple you tend to worry; I’m not quite as adept at getting out of scrapes as I might be. Yet not to go would be hypocritical – I preach all this stuff about inclusion, so why not put it into practice. That’s my excuse anyway. Things may get messy here on in: let them!

Its time to live!

more exhibitions

Jim greeted me with some seriously cool news today: uni have asked us to put my exhibition up again, this time on the Crewe campus. I must say I am overwhelmed; apparently my exhibition has had a very positive effect, and the response I got was thrilling. Next time I’ll certainly make it bigger and better.

I must say things are looking bright tonight. My one big worry is the Heimat essay, but I should be able to handle it. Now I have another ego-fest to look forward to, things really are looking up.

the future

I’m much happier today. It’s been quite busy, and I’ve only just finished work – although I had a swift pint earlier. I’ve handed two of my final assignments in today, leaving just two more, one of which I was just working on. Its odd to think I’m nearly there.

Anyway, its high time I stopped using this place as a mere journal. Pretty soon, I’ll start posting about disability issues, as I feel that’s pretty much my remit, unless you guys don’t actually want me to stop blogging about drinking and stuff. I’ve always felt that I need to use my blog to illustrate life as a disabled person. Either way, soon I’ll be exploring the possibilities of my site, getting new functions in, perhaps a message board. As they say, watch this (web) space.


I am not proud of everything I did this weekend. It was my birthday, and should have been a great time, but for some reason most of the time I had an enormous temper. All the family were there, but I just felt bitter I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but I’ve been feeling it a lot recently. Just angry and frustrated and unjustly belittled. Undervalued. Sorry guys

last nights match

Did anyone else listen to the Ireland Zimbabwe match last night. I get home late Thursdays, and put it on after dinner. I was streaming it while finishing off a script, and I’ve rarely had more fun, it was the closest run race ever, with zim needing 222 to win. In the end it was a draw, the last wicket falling as Zimbabwe equalled Irelands target. Very tense, very exciting.

I love cricket.