This time last year we were probably in bed. its 5am in sydney, or thereabouts. yet at 5pm local time we were just ariving at our hotel from uluru. thoose days now seem so very distant, almost like a dream. thherefore, on the aniversarry of my eating lobster, I’ll let dad blog for mme…

Dec 31st (written on the 1st Jan) [06/07]

The boys had breakfast and went swimming while Mary and I walked into the town of Alice Springs. It’s not very big, and the main street is mostly Grockle shops. It was also very hot, even though it was only 9.00 in the morning. We had a juice in a small caf, and walked back to the hotel, across the bed of the Todd river. You could see the water flow was strong when there was water, but we were walking through sand and gravel that was bone dry. Under the bridge there were hundreds of bottles and cans, clearly a place used for night time parties. We saw many aboriginals in the town, apparently Alice Springs can be a bit dangerous at night because of drunken and drugged aboriginal people. This was according to our tour guide Evan, who said this during the Kings Creek walk.

Back to hotel, packed, checked out, rode in a full sized wheelchair-accessible taxi to the airport. The taxi driver was a real Aussie, who had moved to Australia when 2 years old, having been born in Hastings! He has lived out in remote districts on various stations, started driving when he was ten. Drove many times from the station into the town to buy a hamburger, a distance of 400 Kms!

At the airport saw the Winstons for the last time – Rozie said goodbye to Matthew. The Winstons are a Californian (Santa Cruz) couple who had been on the tours with us, John, Jill, three daughters including Rosie, who is learning-disabled. She had taken an interest in Matthew from when she saw she was not the only disabled person on the tour. Luke also attracted interest from a young lady on the same tour, an Aussie girl who was on holiday from her job organising tours for other people. Luke’s interest was not so obvious.

The flight to Sydney was remarkable only in that our Customer Services agent Pam was on her last flight, retiring after 36 years. There were very emotional farewells, good wishes and applause from everyone on the plane. She gave Matthew a big hug and a kiss, as he was her last ever passenger to look after.

The hotel we are in, the Four Points, is very well placed for the New Years Eve celebrations, so it was absolutely packed last night. It was therefore to be expected that we had trouble getting rooms – they had reserved rooms on completely separate floors for us. However, with a bit of persuasion (and 15 minutes of juggling by the room clerk) we had a complementary upgrade so that we have rooms opposite each other, and our room has excellent views across the harbour.

We also had personal invitations to the buffet meal in the hotel restaurant for the evening, starting at 8.30. It was a really excellent buffet, with tons of seafood, wine, beer, for the evening. Fireworks for the kids at 9.00pm, a box of party favours to be played with (we have the photos of Luke experimenting with them), lots of laughter, many people including a family from Cyprus. So at 12.00am there was the famous Sydney firework party. We were all out on the terrace watching, and to use the clich, we were spellbound. It is enormous, loud, bright, and it seems to last hours, but is only about 20 minutes. So we all wished each other Χρόνια Πολλά, along with all the Cypriots, and went exhausted (MG: also both exhilarated and stuffed!) to bed.

[how time flies, eh? oh well, what a year its been. nevertheless, I fancy some VB]

I was out in town this morning, looking for one or two things I’d forgotten, pondering the whole subject of disability rights. Navigating my way through the crowd, I stumbled the idea that the whole movement can be framed in terms of a paradigm shift: the problem of disability does not lie with disabled people, but with those around us. Further, this does not apply only to disability but any other so-called minority.

Take, for example, my dribbling. I drool quite a bit. for me to try to stop it, however, I’d need to concentrate on swallowing more than any other thing. At the extreme ends of the scale, my productivity in writing would slow, almost to a halt, because I’d be concentrating on not dribbling. Thankfully, my friends and those around me accept me for who I am, including the fact that I drool. Other people need to adapt to me, not me to them.

Moreover, say two guys were walking along the street, obviously in love. The most appropriate response would be none at all, or rather to respond as you would suing any other couple. Yet some people would be appalled at such a sight; and it is such people that I have no time for. I hate intolerance, bigotry, and conservatism.

We all need to accept people for who they are. We also need to see disability in terms of ability, not the lack thereof. Most of all, ‘we’ want to be seen as people.

A week or two ago, I came across a new York times article on a dance class for girls (and presumably boys) with cerebral palsy. They would be changed into dancewear, and helpers would guide their bodies through a ballet class. This seems the epitome of social model thinking: under the s.m, nothing, not even something as quintessentially physical as ballet, is closed to us. If those girls wanted to do ballet – and what’s more natural than a little girl wanting to spin about in a tutu? – then why shouldn’t they. The organisers have seen those girls as girls, not as kids with cerebral palsy. While some may say ‘that’s silly’, I say ‘why the hell not’.

The point is, society’s perceptions of disability must change. I drool, so what? Those girls probably can’t walk, let alone dance en point. So what. We are, first and foremost, people. at uni, for the most part, people got this point. Why can’t everyone else? The problem lies with other’s perceptions and failure to adapt, not disabled people.

I went over to Chester today, to see charlotte. She’s well, as ever, as is her family. I think mark was surprised by the enormity of the hug with which we greeted each other but we were glad to see each other. I think I rather needed to go over there – I was going stir crazy,, sitting around the house, and anyway there were one or two things we needed to discuss. I love the fact that I can do such things, go visit my friends. To be honest the only reason I don’t visit my other friends too (not that the burrow isn’t welcoming enough) is that I don’t have their addresses, so if you want a weird, twentysomething cripple turning up on your doorstep, demanding food and alcamafrol, leave your addy in the comments box.

Although I firmly support democracy, and the power of the people, I kind of like the monarchy. It, along with cricket and proper beer, is what defines Britain.

Therefore, and because there’s not much better to write about, I’ll send you here, to the 2007 queens speech, and here, to the 1957 one. quite interesting, really.

Yesterday was nice. Even with so many people about, mum managed to stuff everyone. The turkey this year was probably her best, and even her sprouts were good. How she does it I’m not sure, as I was banished from the kitchen all morning. I was just sitting about, not doing much.

As for presents, my haul consisted mostly of books, clothes and films. Part of me still yearns for a toy or two, but I’m supposed to be an adult now. Got a new watch too. I think everyone was happy with what I gave them, which these days seems to please me more than receiving. Odd isn’t it.

I spent yesterday nursing a distended stomach, wondering about the house seeing what everyone was up to. At such times, I act like some domestic flaneur. I love when the place is so busy. I must say, though, I’m very disappointed that everyone is pissing off today. To disappear so quickly seems…well… a bit rude, quite frankly. I don’t see my cousins enough as it is! Anyway I still owe Cyril a drink for graduation!

Speaking of such matters, I got a phone call last night from charlotte! I rarely get phone calls from anyone (usually I use email or facebook). Of course, it was great to hear from her; these days, we have much to discuss: lets just say there are two or three things in the offing, one of them huge. I’m going to try to wrangle a lift her way soon, if I can. I like getting phone calls though – it just feels so normal!

Anyway, I think my pc might be in demand. The house just went eerily silent too. Better go investigate.

I must admit I’ve been somewhat antisocial today. 13 ppl in the house and I’ve spent most of the day behind my pc. Not sure why – I just keep out off the way. The family are doing various things. However, I had a cool conversation about French cinephilia with my aunt.

I’d like now to wish all my family and friends and everyone who reads this, the best of Christmasses!

Here’s some christmas music

I don’t recall a time when the house has been fuller: there are 13 people downstairs, from places as diverse as brazil and the Russian far east; between us, we speak about 6 or 7 languages. Its just incredible. Better go back downstairs.

I love Christmas.

I am actually quite irritated to read that the Archbishop of Wales, Dr Barry Morgan has compared atheism to fundamentalist religion, for it is to me a case of the pot calling the kettle black. There is a huge difference between religion and atheism, as the latter is based on the principals of logic rather than a series of ad hoc superstitions. I find it preposterous that Dr Morgan said: ”All of this is what I would call the new ‘fundamentalism’ of our age. It allows no room for disagreement, for doubt, for debate, for discussion.” For atheism rather than religion is the very thing which allows debate inasmuch as it doesn’t rely on a set of rules. If science proved there was a god, I would be fine with it. It is religion that is intolerant. Of course, the archbishop is reacting to scientists like Richard dawkins. While dawkins may sometimes go too far, all he is doing is presenting empirical testable data; there’s nothing intolerant about that.

As for myself, I do not have anything against religion, save when it causes problems. I reserve my right to call it irrational, but welcome debate. I certainly hope I am not intolerant. I just dislike hypocrisy. Mind you, things would be so much simpler if we all believed the same, provable, thing! Grrr!

link

An adjunct of wrapping-paper theory (Esther, 2007) is, of course, mince pie theory. Just as in wrapping paper theory, branes envelop ideas surrounding objectivity as in a Christmas gift, the truth of what is inside is unknowable. Mince pie theory takes this one step further, stipulating that branes surround dark matter: in essence, the truth about dark matter is unknowable,, for it is surrounded my lighter matter (pastry). However, sometimes the dark matter leaks out, and we can see it has bits of light matter within (the so called suet phenomenon). This is very mysterious: we don’t know much about the suet phenomenon, only that it is very hot at first, then cools down. We know that it is a major ingredient of the main part of Christmas phenomenology: the pudding.

Ok, I better stop trying to marry cookery and physics. I’ll go back to cripple politics tomorrow…maybe.

Its kind of strange really, how much two of my main interests seem to ‘match’. That is to say, they have roughly the same schemata.

My blogging about creationism has dropped off recently. While I’m still interested in it, its such a one-sided debate that there isn’t much I can say. I find it both amusing and frightening how one sided the debate is: evolutionists hold all the cards, their argument is by far the strongest, but certain religious people still want to argue that we didn’t evolve and were created by god 7000 years ago. They (quite irrationally) dismiss the mountain range of scientific evidence for biological evolution.

Something similar applies to inclusion. On the one hand, study after study shows that segregation is damaging, and inclusion must proceed. Admittedly, this is not as Himalayan as the evidence for evolution, but it is vast in comparison to the almost wholly circumstantial ‘evidence’ supporting segregation. Indeed it’s not evidence at all, but the gut reaction off overprotective parents. Here again is a one-sided argument. See http://www.leeds.ac.uk/disability-studies/archiveuk/titles.html

However, the main difference is that, while one can comfortably dismiss the creationists as nutters who pose no real threat, I for one cannot ignore those fools who think segregation is the way forward. It is too damaging to be ignored. This is why I attack CaMoron. He would rather see kids with sen back in special schools, and don’t fall for his bull about caring: if he actually cared, he would have read the data. He just cares about cutting taxes and getting votes rather than children’s welfare.

I suppose I passed a bit of a milestone today: I gave myself a shower! It was pretty much the first time ever I had done so at home. I must admit it wasn’t a particularly thorough one – at least not as thourogh as when I am helped to shower – but it got me reasonably clean. My dad has stalled a walk-in shower at home, and this morning I was feeling dirty. Plus, I like the thought I can nowtake a shower whenever I want! Strange eh?

Shaving, however, is another problem. I’d like to shave myself, but electric razors don’t seem to work, and the less said about my experiments trying to shave myself manually the better. Any ideas, guys?

I must admit its getting harder for me to defend the government; things are going pear shaped for labour right now. Frankly, they seem inept. But there’s a huge difference between appearing inept, and actually being stupid. And CaMoron is stupid.

Read this: ”’I think this word segregation is pejorative and wrong,”’ he retorts, obviously annoyed. “I look at my own case, with my son, who needs a lot of special care, special attention and special services. It wouldn’t be possible to do all those things in a mainstream school.

”For him, a special school that has given the love, the attention, the therapy and the education he needs, has been an absolute godsend. I certainly don’t think my son is being segregated. I’m delighted he’s in a school that meets his needs.””

And this is the guy who would lead this country. This imbecile. Its called segregated education because that is precisely what it is – segregation. It is the separation of children on the basis of ability, and, rather than give our son love, sir, it has neglected him, educationally. I spent nigh on thirteen years in such a place; I saw what it did to me, and my friends. It betrayed us. I was told, aged 8, that I’d never do GCSEs by my head teacher. No doubt others were fed the same crap. I call that neither love, nor a godsend, so stop deluding yourself and do your son a goddamn favour. see it for what it is: abuse

At present, we have almost escaped segregation. And I will see to it that idiots like you never return us to such places.

source

It would seem that Christmas has come a tad early for me this year: dad just set up my pc at home, and installed my new roller ball. This, of course,, needed to happen as I had broken my other one. not too sure how – it just broke. However, unlike my old roller ball, which had a button for dragging, I can’t find the drag facility on this one, which may make highlighting text interesting. I should, I suppose, go consult the handbook, but that would be admitting defeat.

Dad suggested writing something about how xmas effects disabled people. personally, it doesn’t effect me too much, except I get even lazier. However, most of you are no doubt aware that the ‘Christmas bonus’ we cripples get is something like fifteen quid. This is pitiful: its only about ten beers. Yet, joking aside, I suspect this could be even worse if the Tories are elected.

I’m starting to despair, quite frankly, at the opinion polls. A conservative government would be a disaster for disabled people, and the country, for it would set us back ten years to the gross mismanagement of john major. Would you believe that that fool claimed yesterday that the prosperity of the Blair years was due to the systems he put in place? Either the guy is deluded, stupid, or both. The country was going to hell in a hand basket before Blair and brown saved it.

People seem to have forgotten this, and now that everyone’s doing reasonably well, are becoming more conservative in outlook. What they forget is that turning back towards the right will undo all the good done since 97; they forget that conservatism only serves those who have money, and lets those who have not fall by the wayside. If we elect the conservative party, the old social inequalities will return. That fifteen quid will seem like fifteen hundred.

For the sake of the society we have built, and the ghost of cripmas future, don’t be fooled by CaMoron.

Looking back, I’m not sure how my parents coped. I mean, how do you get three small kids into the centre of London from Harlesden, one of whom has quite severe cp, and all insisting they wanted to ride on the top deck? It mustn’t have been easy, but every year we did it. One of my fondest childhood memories was going to see father Christmas at Selfridges. They do a grotto there, and we went in early December, year in, year out; it was a family tradition, until we grew out of it. One year, they did a snowman theme – I was in heaven, as I adored the snowman. Always have.

I just watched it again, on youtube. Est mentioned it being parodied by n irn bru advert, and I became nostalgic. Watching it sent me back to the top deck of the number six bus, being told not to jump or the driver may think we want to get off. You know, my parents were very patient with us.

Its been a long term. I really am ready to get home, although, naturally, I have a lot of work to do. It should be a nice rest, and a good chance to see family. Its interesting, though, how a film can trigger feelings.

I’m declaring Thursdays exempt from this ‘don’t just post a link to youtube’ rule. I’m shattered by the time I get back from lesson. So, today, I will just post a link to this pretty funky bit of animation on the subject of inclusion. Enjoy.

Today I went Christmas shopping. It was my first solo trip into Crewe since my run-in with the car. I had intended this blog to be about my trials and tribulations, but there weren’t any: the place wasn’t too busy, and I managed to get most of my gifts.

It was rather pleasant. This morning, I emailed lee to say I was going into Crewe, and, about ten thirty, we met up. We shopped together for a while, then, just before noon, we went to get a coffee. We tried to go to the cinema, but found nothing was on for an hour, so we gave it a miss. After that, we split up, and I did a bit more shopping and exploring, before coming home on the bus. I admit I probably spent too much, but 95% was not for me.

The remaining 5%, however, was on the coffee with lee, and tights. Now, my tight-wearing may have started as my little oddity, but I’m discovering their practicality: it’s sub-zero out there, without much exaggeration. In such weather, my stationary legs usually feel very cold, but today under my trousers I have a reasonably thick pair of tights. My legs have felt nice and warm all day. I’d therefore recommend them to my fellow wheelchair users.

Thing is, my hands froze. I really need some gloves or mittens.

Dad keeps going on at me for not blogging more about disability subjects, and told me this weekend that my blog has become more like a diary recently. I see his point, but I’d also maintain that my writing about my day-to-day activities as a masters student will raise awareness, albeit on a very small scale, of what life is like for a person with cp. This is why my blog is filled with so much waffle. I know I should try to blog about wider disability politics, but I guess that, at present, I’m still stuck in the pleasant bubble of academia.

However, some of you may find this interesting. It’s a video, on youtube, about ‘accessing the inaccessible’. It concerns the problems faced by an American high school student with disabilities; even getting through the front door, it seems, was a struggle. Yet it is important to note that, despite these problems, her belief in inclusion never falters. It is better to struggle on against the obstacles than be segregated, for an obstacle can be overcome whereas the damage done by segregation is often life long.

Its been yet another quiet weekend. In fact, I didn’t go outside between Friday night and Monday morning. It hasn’t been the type of weather I’ve wanted to go out in, and to be honest I’m rather tired. It’s been a long term. I don’t think I’ve ever worked harder and I’m just about ready for a break. I’m looking forward to a Christmas at home watching films on the big TV, and taking lots of baths in our new Jacuzzi. I tried it out for the first time last night and it ruled. Mind you everything I touch these days seems to be breaking – this term Mum says I have methodically gone through every piece of equipment I own. I’m hoping that the Christmas holiday will give me a break from breaking stuff.

Esther just made an interesting request. It’s the time of year when we all wrap presents, and est wants to know if someone can make a ‘wrapping theory’. Her logic is, as ever, infallible: if there exists a theory of string, there should be a theory of wrapping paper. This theory should answer questions such as why things like clothes are so hard to wrap.

I guess it would be related to brane theory: this, as far as I know, says superstrings are like membranes in other dimensions. However, I personally prefer art to science. Mind you, the two seem to converge rather nicely inasmuch as they both state that absolute truth is unknowable: lyotard’s postmodernism and Schrdinger and Hinesburg’s uncertainty both lead one to conclude that everything comes down to objectivity. What holds true for one person may not be true for another. It follows, then, that the idea of objective truth is unknowable, kind of like a present inside wrapping paper!

It may be nothing to do with cp, or crippledom, or anything, but this clip, cheesy and poorly made though it may be, is pretty much the core of my personal cinephilia. Long live crap on youtube.

I’ve been putting off writing this all day, because I’m not sure what to say about it. Last night I went to see the year two ctp performances, directed by the two ctp lecturers. Both were very odd: the first concerned people going into and out of doors, some vague characters, and some music. The second concerned ‘Oklahoma’: it fused ideas of Oklahoma the play/musical, and the bombings there. This was odd, a little pretentious and mildly racist inasmuch as it had a mature student doing a very bad, almost stereotypical, imitation of a native American.

Oh, how I long for someone to do something with a discernable plot and characterisation around here. All I could think of last night was the emperors new clothes.

Its been an okay day today. This morning, despite home help coming too early, was highly productive. I watched a film called Gilda, and was able to turn out close to 1000 words on it before lunch. Not bad, although I was starving by the end of it. This afternoon, I went shopping. I love how I have the freedom and confidence to get myself to Crewe and back – something uni gave me that school did not. Bought a few Christmas prezzies. Not a bad day.

Yesterday I remembered I had mum’s Australian diary from Australia on my hard disk, so I read some. I’ve been thinking about Australia a lot recently; it was, I think, the holiday of a lifetime. Plus, the weather is decidedly better this time of year over there. Can’t help but miss it. I miss watching cricket at Melbourne and Sydney, even if we lost; I miss Rosie and the Winston’s, and peter our tour guide; I miss barramundi fish and Victoria bitter. I miss nice weather!

It has been a great year. The events of February still upset me – I remember the long, cold road back from Weston with bitterness – but the events of July, and the memory of the roar from the crowd, still fills me with joy. The year which began watching fireworks over darling harbour, Sydney, proved to me my best year. I suspect more great years will follow.

link

Although most of the boys in question were brought home sixty years ago, last nights 1940s themes Christmas party was lots of fun. There were a few outrageous costumes, lots of fun games (including Chinese Christmas, where I got the best prise) and lots of drinking. I had on a 1940s-style catsuit. Steve was there in the beginning, and it was great to see him.

Hmm… now I come to think of it, I cant remember too many of the details. Always a sign of a good party. Jen and ash have done it again.