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.