The bbc report about the campaign to save the coachmakers arms can be found here; just click on ‘See the latest programme in full’ and scan to about 12 or 13 minutes in. our bit lasts for about 15 seconds, but you can just glimpse my chair at 14.43.

You know, I used to have mixed views on this, but after hearing that podgy arse from the council talk, I’m convinced we’re doing the right thing. People like him don’t give a damn about heritage or history; they only care about how much money they can make. It is a narrow-minded, selfish view, and it really makes me angry.

Today I read roadwork. It was about time; before now I was concentrating too much on my thesis to actually sit down and read it. Plus, I reasoned that it might be better for me not to read it so I might view regeneration purely as a play. But it’s the easter holls, the thesis isn’t going badly, and it’s been too long since I read any fiction. it took me all day to get through the audiobook, but the truth is I found it gripping.

The problem is, Ricardio seems to have missed a very important point out. Dawes actions can be seen largely in the context of his grief for his son – the death of a kid can fuck a guy’s head up. But Ricardio has totally cut the fact that dawes and his wife mary ever had a son out. I know that, for our purposes, the reasons behind Dawes’ actions are unimportant, and we need him to represent a kind of everyman, but I am very concerned with character, and see Charlie’s death as key to understanding Barton G dawes.

Either way, it’s a great little book, and I’m glad I actually sat down and read it. I think I was pissing Ricardio off by not doing so.

I have had a lot of fun today. We now have a venue for our play: an awesome grade 2 listed building called the queen’s theatre, Burslem. The number 20 runs right by it, so after breakfast today I set off towards stoke. I met the cast there, waiting outside for the guy who owns it. I had spurned a lift in favour of the bus so I could take my electric wheelchair, but ironically enough the place has so many steps the chair proved useless. However, it was a fascinating, historic building, even if it did give me the creeps slightly. I was sat up on the balcony this afternoon, thinking of all the productions that must have been staged there over its hundred year history. In a way, it reminded me of the sshining.

After rehearsal, me, Ricardio and liz decided to go for tea. None of the places we asked in knew anything about the chip and signature system, so we got the bus back to alsager and ate in the plough. I only just got home, and will soon go to bed full of enthusiasm for another week.

I have just returned from a very pleasant lunch with Ricardio, jo, and a few other friends. We needed to discuss the play: tomorrow, we’re going to see the venue where we’ll probably be putting it on, and we also needed to discuss where to go after Regeneration is over. It’s strange how my casual interest in Ricardio’s productions has morphed into a possible career path. If this takes off – and I really hope it does – I could make a career in drama. It’s quite closely related to both film and creative writing, my first loves, and, as an art form, affords one a type of creation which is both immediate and keen. Of course, I’ll have to discuss all this with Ric, but the possibility that this could turn into something bigger really excites me.

My website has come under attack again. My brother Luke is currently trying to repair any damage they did. I’m very grateful to him – without Luke’s expertise, this website would have disappeared years ago. In the meantime, bear with us folks.

It hasn’t yet turned eleven, and it’s already been quite an interesting day. Our production of Roadwork, now re-named Regeneration (a much more descriptive title) is going well. The Very important theatre company is primarily focussed on issue-based theatre, which means we have purpose in what we do. Our efforts in the fight to save the coachmakers arms, hanley, apparently got the attention of the press, and so this morning we were filmed by a very nice woman from midlands today.

I never function well before about 9, but at 8 this morning we were all gathered in studio 40. incredibly, Dan, our male lead, was able to deliver one of his monologues with the intensity of a double-bourbon even at that hour. I think the woman was quite surprised, too. She would have got some damn fine shots, judging from where she placed her camera. Thus I think it went really well; we’ll know when it airs next Tuesday evening.

She also took a shot of the whole company, including yours truly, stating our purposes and so on. It reminded me of when I was on the news before, back in 99 or 2000, when my class at school won a wheelchair dancing competition. I didn’t speak this time, but then, insufferable urchin that I was, I had quoted Julius Caesar. My parents have a tape of it somewhere, but that is a video I can never watch again.

Well, if you’re interested, we’ll be on Midlands today, next Tuesday, at half 6.

Not much happened today. Mum and dad popped over with my aunt jill, but conversation was rather dominated by the nasty click my wheelchair developed yesterday. I had my hair cut this morning, but nobody noticed. Work, too, seems to have slowed to a standstill – I’m taking what I call an ‘editorial rest’, allowing me to think things through before proceeding, reading etc. The last one I took, in January, proved very fruitful.

There’s some stand-up comedy on campus this evening; I’ll probably go.

So, other than that, a pretty dull day. Things should perk up again soon: I could be on local TV tomorrow, but I’ll tell you guys all about that if and when it happens.

I have been thinking about nonconformity again, and have decided that most people are dull. The most interesting people, I have decided, are those who break down barriers and ‘think outside the box’. I guess that’s why I find Lyn fascinating: she pays absolutely no notice to social norms, and is at the same time just herself. I think something in me finds transgression very attractive – I love to fuck with peoples heads. I think charlotte does too in a way, which is part of why I like her also. Lyn got me an awesome cat zentai for my birthday; it’s bound to make heads turn.

But, paradoxically, both Lyn and charlotte are just being themselves. They don’t deliberately go out to break down barriers, but just do. In this respect, our society is repressive inasmuch as it doesn’t yet allow certain kinds of people to be themselves. Oh, I still can’t fathom it, but it is bloody fascinating.

I was at home this weekend, where I managed to catch up with the news. Do you know, my parents took us to loch Awe in about 1990; thee loch was on the news this weekend and we recognised the name. more pertinent to my blog, though, is the news that doctors are being allowed to let a baby die, against the wishes of it’s parents. This makes me very angry and very scared. True, the child is/was in a great deal of pain; but from my conviction that all people are of equal worth and potential I draw my belief that life must be preserved. Who are those doctors to play god, to say who can live and who can die? What gave those judges the right to go against the parents wishes? I believe in neither god nor an afterlife, so I think this existence is all we have. Surely, then, it must be preserved. Moreover, I fear this sets a very dangerous precedent – if this kid’s life wasn’t deemed worth saving, would mine have been?

The last 48 hours have been stupid, even by my usually inane standards. Everything, I suppose, can be traced back to the point where I forgot to plug my chair in before going home on Wednesday evening. I usually charge it every night, but I thought it would be okay. Never mind the fact that I’d been to Hanley and back in it on Wednesday; the battery had never died on me.

When I got back here yesterday morning, I plugged it in for a couple of hours then went to Crewe. I wanted to see Alan. Esther had emailed; their family had had a bad week. She told me she got home after 3, so I planned to see Alan in order to cancel today’s meeting then go to see Esther in person. I felt that the best thing to do, under the circumstances. So off I went.

I knew I was being foolish, but given Esther’s home internet connection isn’t working, it was the only way I could tell Esther what Alan had said. The thing is, Esther lives a good two or 3 K from campus. I got there O.K, going slower than usual though. When the time came to go, the Bat’leth wouldn’t go at all. A taxi seemed the obvious solution so we called one.

Esther saw me onto the taxi, and then went home. It seemed the fun hadn’t stopped there, though: when I got back here, I opened my purse to find just five quid. Oh shit. Rob was skint too. We ended up giving the driver an IOU. This morning, then, I got rob to drive m to the building society, then we went to find the driver. This took a while, but everything is now sorted.

Dad will probably be having a fit when he gets to this point, but he needn’t worry. Yes, like most people I can get myself into trouble; but it also shows I have the confidence and know-how to get myself out of it too.

I have had time to calm down now. It’s been a long, eventful day, but this evening I’ve sat in here and had chance to reflect. For one, I’ve had about a hundred birthday messages from all over the place; it reminds me how many good friends I have. I also met Alan this evening, and his encouraging words got me out of my stupor. Such things remind me that things aren’t as bad as they may have appeared before.

My birthday was ok. I went home, got shouted at, ate some cake, went to bed, got up, gott shouted at some more, then came back here. Woopdidoo..

sorry, I’m not very happy now. I’ll try to make a proper post soomn.

I am officially getting old and I don’t like it. I was having coffee with lee m this morning and we got on to the sibject of school, as per usual. Turns out that a girl from a few years below us has had a baby, aged 21. I try not to be judgemental. But I can’t help despairing slightly. I mean, how is she going to look after it? What was she, and other girls like her, thinking? I can’t help thinking it was too early for her.

It is election time here on campus. Although I am still generally uninterested, I still think that the student population is unrepresentative of the general population. More disabled people are going to uni than ever before, but ‘we’ are still underrepresented in higher education. Uni, I fear, is still an uninclusive area, geared towards more traditional methods of learning. You go to lectures, then you go to the library to read around the subject, then you write an essay. I think I’m reasonably good at this, but to some it is ultimately exclusive. Some people with disabilities just don’t work like this. that’s not to say they need to be ‘spoon fed’ information, but they take in and express knowledge and learning in other ways. I just think that the academic system should adapt to reflect this more.

I look forward to the day that the first essay is submitted in Bliss or Makaton.

I just waved goodbye to Lyn on her bus home. It’s strange – she’s the most enigmatic person I’ve ever met: strong, yet fragile; certain yet somehow scared. I whish I could just take her in my arms and tell her everything will be ok. I look into her eyes and see a strange vulnerability and confusion; yet also I see love. She’s quite a bit older than I am; perhaps more jaded and world weary; and yet there’s also this optimism in the future – and in me. I invited her up after last Friday’s drama: I now see dumping Lyn would be like ripping my soul out. Age difference or none, and all other concerns asunder, I love Lyn levett.

Lyn has been here since yesterday afternoon, bringing with her my birthday presents. I already have quite a haul – a book of ‘501 Must see movies’ from Esther; a book, DVD and cd from Charlie and of course my new wheelchair. It isn’t even my birthday till Wednesday, but I’m already very happy.

Today, after breakfast, I’ll probably take Lyn on a short walk, then lunch, then I have rehearsal to go to. Tomorrow it’s back to writing, but even that’s going well, so apart from my tendency to drink too much things are all good.

We just got back from a walk. It’s been a long weeks – I reckon I’ve produced close to 15000 words over the last few weeks, and I needed a break. So we went into town. The local scallies had just been set free from school. We were on the main road, when one fat little shit thought that it would be rather big to mock the guy in the wheelchair.

Perhaps I’m too proud these days. I have a degree, and with luck I’ll soon have a master’s, but when these kids mock me it’s as if to say ‘you deserve no respect because you’re in a chair.’ I get so angry. Why should we have to take this abuse, in these days of equality?

He was a fat little shit.

The geeks are back. I’ve spent most of the day in my room, typing up my thesis, checking email from time to time. My wrist hurts a bit, but it’s quite fun. Anyway, because of this, it wasn’t until after dinner that I noticed tents had appeared outside brandies. That can only mean one thing: the LAN partiers have returned. I went in, but didn’t stay too long, for I had had an idea. Given that nerds and geeks are often fans too (Jenkins, 2002) this will be a perfect chance to do some actual field research, so I plan to type up a quick note of introduction and go back there later. Should be awesome. Plus, I’ll get to ogle their computers!

I am having a night in, in the simple company of the net and MSN messager. To be honest I need it, as I think I’ve been working hard and partying way too much recently. Even when I’m out, though, the thesis is never far from my mind. Went to see Alan today – he had some criticisms of my recent output. They were fair criticisms, so I spent the afternoon making alterations ahead of my official meeting Friday. Then, on Saturday, Lyn’s coming up, and we’ll be going out for dinner with Ricardio. It seems I never stop these days.

And no, we probably won’t be going to the Indian restaurant.

We went to one of the local Indian restaurants Sunday night. It’s strange – I never really used to like curry, and I still don’t like it too hot, but now I’m older I have grown fond of the stuff. Anyway, all was going well; we were having quite a good time. Ricardio was talking crap, but it was amusing crap. However, it was soon time to pay.

I didn’t have much cash on me, so I needed to pay my share in credit card. I have a chip and signature card, as I’ve said before. But there was a problem – their machine wouldn’t accept my card. I’d used it the night before in the pub, so I knew there was unlikely to be a problem with the card, but were they listening? No.

They kept insisting I needed to enter my pin number. I don’t have a pin number! Things got a little heated. After all, if they can’t accommodate all methods of payment, then that, as I see it, is discrimination. It’s not the first time that this happened there. My friends got angry; I got very embarrassed. Eventually Ricardio paid on his card for me, but when we were leaving we were asked not to come back.

I was so angry. When I got in, I told dad. He phoned the restaurant, and they apparently apologised. Also, next day I went to the bank to double check my card was ok. It was, but I asked the lady to phone the place again to find out exactly what the problem was. Again, they were apologetic, but I’m still quite angry about the way in which me and my friends were treated.

Another long day. my first proper draft if my thesis is complete; I need to print it and bind it. al has seem most of it, and while it still needs a lot of work, I feel really good about it.

Tomorrow I’ll tell you what happened at the indian last night, but its been a long day, and I’m in too good a mood.

I am in such a good mood tonight. I’ve been at rehearsal all afternoon, and roadworks coming along nicely, but I seem to be constantly thinking about my thesis. Thee introduction is now just over ten thousand words, and if I can round it off, adding a bit on the self-reflexivity of fandom along communal lines. And a bit about how fans do indeed reflect on their love, then I can have a draft completed by the end of this week.

Must dash, though – it’s curry night.

Relations with Lyn seem to have returned to normal, although I definitely must go to visit her soon. Truth be told, I still don’t feel quite right, although this could have something to do with the two bottles of red wine I drank last night. I guess I need cheering up, so I found this, one of thee best pieces of fan art I’ve come across. Never knew star trek could be so rude.

Its been a long day. I’d rather not go into it too much, but I nearly broke up with Lyn. I told her it wasn’t going to work out. Then, I felt this pain on my heart like no other, and I realised I love her. I cant help it – I just do.

There was a gig on at the coachmakers arms last night. Rob mentioned it Monday, and I thought it sounded fun: a poetry night with folk music. It was set up by terry fox, who teaches writing here. I told my friend Chris about it via facebook; we hadn’t seen each other since graduation, and I remembered he lives in stoke so I thought it’d be good to meet up.

So we went. It was a good evening – no poetry, but some good music and great company. Chris is still the highly intelligent guy I knew: we talked about the old times, like the party at Chris and Steve’s which is now the stuff of legend. It made me long for those days – although lots of my friends came on Saturday, quite a few couldn’t make it. Like Steve and Chris.

There’s only one thing for it – a trip to Scotland.

Rob and I drove Chris back to his, before coming back ourselves. However, we passed a shop which I thought I’d like to visit, so this morning I got on the bus to Hanley. Getting there was easy, and I had a little trouble finding the shop, but it was when it came to going home that the fun started. I went back to the bus station. The first bus came – no ramp. Second bus came – no ramp. Third bus – no flipping ramp. By this time I was getting agitated. I was about to force my way on, when one of the staff came. She had arranged a bus, especially for me! They had seen my plight and got another bus. So, in the end, I was driven directly back too campus. Perhaps first busses aren’t so bad after all.

This global economic downturn thing seems to be getting worse. I haven’t yet felt any pinch from it, mind you: I just go about my business here on campus, withdrawing around thirty quid a week. Last week I used more, mind you – girls and beer are expensive. But I hear about the credit crunch every day, and we are heading, I think, for another depression.

However, yesterday I read the most absurd thing. this guy seems to be claiming that this isn’t the fault of capitalism, but the fault of human nature and greed. Even more absurd is the fact that this guy claims to be intelligent. Capitalism and the free market economy is an individualistic ethos – it’s an every-man-for-himself philosophy. It is based on a quazi-darwinian principle of the survival of the fittest in order to maintain society. And just as the gene can be called selfish, so must be capitalism. Thus any attempt to separate capitalism from greed is an absurd misunderstanding of capitalism.

Frankly, it is as if this guy and those like him are still trying to protect their values at all costs, and so would tell us anything rather than admit that their system has once again failed us.

just aquick note to say I’m not dead – uni has had a major wornm attack, and the internet connection is currently rather tempremental. noormal blogging should resume soon.

thanks to dad, luke and the i.t guys for their help.

This weekend has been so much fun. I said goodbye to Charlie, Lyn and Lyn’s PA Denny after brunch today; having them here was fantastic, and Westfield flat now feels quite lonely. It was also quite insane – you should have seen the mess in my room this morning, and the number of empty bottles in my bin.

Last night didn’t go quite to plan, but it was still great fun. The social I expected in my room didn’t really happen, and we went to brandies a bit earlier than I thought, but it was one hell of a night, I was in a bright pink outfit, Lyn wore the black dress I’d given her as a welcome gift, and charlotte was in a scrummy green dress. Denny was being normal and boring.

Our friends got here at about half seven. Scott and becs were the same excellent people I remember; Vanessa was even more Vanessa-like though. I finally got to meet Vanessa’s husband to be, Neil, who turns out to be a really nice bloke. I also saw sally and jo, and many of my other friends. It felt great. They all seem to really like Lyn, too. I was so happy last night that, at one point, I pushed Lyn round the crowded dance floor on a mad tour of doom.

This morning we got up, dressed, and, after a lengthy hunt for my glasses, went to eat in the wes. We furthered the plans we had already made, like Amsterdam, and made new ones, Charlie has hatched a new plan for another trip to Newquay, which I’m definitely up for. Then it was suddenly time for Charlie to head home, and a short while later I walked Lyn and Denny to the bus stop. I already quite miss them.