I was going to stay off the subject of politics until the new year, but having just seen the details of CaMoron’s new years message, I now think new year’s eve is close enough. CaMoron is warning of a tough year ahead, but he maintains that the cuts he will impose are necessary to ‘get us out of the economic mess Labour left us’. This is bullshit, and really makes me angry. The last government did not leave us in a mess by any means: after 1997, they built a rigid, secure economy which was able to weather the worst world banking crisis since the thirties. It was only due to brown that we aren’t now in another depression. How this unelected Tory Prime Minister can come on TV and try to pin the hardships they will make on the previous government shows us all just how little honour the Tories have. The truth is they want to impose these cuts: for them, the economy was too big and taxes were too high. They want lower taxation so that wealth stays in the hands of the rich: they want a system where the rich stay rich and the poor…well, the poor are just poor because, in Tory philosophy, they are just lazy. Why should the rich pay part of their hard-earned cash to the tax man, so he can give it to such slackers? This is Tory philosophy, and this is the reason behind the cuts. They are motivated by greed and the desire to keep wealth in the hands of the wealthy, and they don’t give two hoots about those who rely on public services. Thus for CaMoron to go on television and claim he has no choice and the cuts are all the fault of the previous government is the most discussing, shameful and bare-faced lie ever uttered in British politics.

All is well here in Charlton. The house is fairly quiet, apart from Lyn composing in her studio. She’s working on a new song, which sounds awesome.. We’re also trying out a new PA, Adrian, from Poland – he already seems a cool guy*. As for myself, I’m just catching up on correspondence, checking facebook, blogging and drinking coffee.

I find myself reflecting upon what a spectacular year it has been. It has been a year where, in a way, I finally grew up, going from essentially an adolescent still living off my parents to a young man, settling down, becoming engaged and building a new life. Now that I think about it, it’s quite remarkable how dramatically my life has changed. I still have much growing to do, of course; I rely on Lyn for a lot of stuff and I can still be quite childish. Yet I think I’m growing.

In about three weeks it will be a full year since I moved in with Lyn. It’s funny to think that there was a time when I couldn’t bear to spend one night away from my parents, and now ‘home’ seems quite a distant memory. Yet this is my home now, as I keep writing; it’s a very good, comfortable home,, often full of music and the smell of coffee. It is where I intend to build a family, and grow old with Lyn. It is Our house , and I never realised how amazing that feeling would be.

*Looks Like Felix Riebl from The Cat Empire, in a way.

England have retained the ashes in Australia. I never thought I’d have the chance to write that sentence. Mind you, we have retained them rather than won them outright. There’s the Sydney test tto come, and the Aussies will try their hardest to win that, so the series will probably end up two all, but under the rules a tied series means we keep the urn, which is good enough for me. In fact I reckon it’s enough to wipe clean the utter embarrassment of our last tour down under, as it is a victory inflicted on their own back yard, and by quite a convincing margin. As an English cricket fan, I am now incredibly happy – what a Christmas it is turning out to be.

I think something odd happened this evening – something worth recording, although it was only small. Lyn felt the need to get out of the house, which is quite understandable given she spends so much time here, so we went to a pub we know on the other side of the park. We’ve been there quite a few times, but not since the summer. We were just walking back, when I felt something: the type of feeling you get when you visit a place which you once knew well but had forgotten, or a place you loved as a child. We were walking past Charlton house in the pitch dark of a December evening when I suddenly remembered the feeling of last summer: I rremembered walking through the park in july, and how beautiful it looks when the flowers were out and the sun was beating down. In short I felt nostalgic.

Reading this back it seems silly, and hardly important, yet in a way this is very significant. The warmth I felt in that moment, as we strode past the dark outline of Charlton house, was the same warmth I felt when I drove out along the lanes back up north: a feeling of familiarity and of homeliness. It tells me that this is now my home, and that here, with Lyn amidst the bustle of this great city, is where I belong.

I woke up very happy indeed this morning, for I think yesterday was one of the greatest days of my life. It was the type of day which makes you reflect on how good life is. Despite the taxi being slightly late, we made it in good time to my grandmothers house on the other side of London. I think Lyn was feeling somewhat nervous, and to be honest I was too, but we need not have worried. As soon as we got there, my uncle came out to the cab to greet us, then my dad, and I felt as if I’d come home.

For as long as I can remember, my parents had taken me, every few months, to visit my grandparents in Harlesden, so much so that their house was as familiar to me as my own. Going there yesterday, with so much off my family there, felt like slipping into an old pair of slippers or starting to read your favourite childhood novel for the umpteenth time. It felt cozy and warm, and it was then I remembered what a great family I have. Luke and Yan were there, with Yan’s mum, my uncle and aunt, both my grandmothers, and, of course, my parents. I did my best to hug everybody. We sat down to talk in the front room while we waited for dinner.

There’s not more I can say, really, other than giving a rather tedious account of what we spoke about. Yet I must say how great it felt to be there with Lyn, and to see her accepted, as it were, into the family, not that there was any doubt that this would happen: everybody got on like a house on fire. Christmas dinner was excellent, and easily ranks alongside these three as one of my all-time favourite meals. I must say, too, of how proud I am of my parents, for various reasons. For example, mum made a vegan alternative for Lyn, Andrezj and Natalia, as they don’t eat meat

I don’t think I can explain fully why all this made me happy; it just made me very happy indeed. Sitting around the table with Lyn and most of my family, and then playing dominoes at the kitchen table in the early evening, made me realise what a bloody lucky man I am. I must admit I felt rather sad to hear the doorbell ring, meaning the taxi had come to take us home, yet I also felt refreshed and reinvigorated, as if seeing my family had reset something. The pangs of homesickness I’ve felt, on and off, for the last few days have disappeared and I feel keen and excited about the day, week, month and year ahead.

Yesterday, for me, was very special indeed.

I do not have much to write tonight. As I recorded the other day, tomorrow we’re going to have Christmas dinner with my family. I’m really excited about it, both because I haven’t seen them in ages -, I haven’t seen my grandmothers in over a year, a fact which has been playing on my mind someewhat – and because Lyn will get to meet everybody. She has met mum, dad and Luke before, of course, albeit separately, but this will be the first family gathering I’ve taken her to, and the first I’ve been to as part of a couple. That thought feels wonderful, not least because I’ll get to show everyone how amazing Lyn is. It’s funny how I once thought I’d never thought I’d get to go somewhere as ‘us’, but now it feels rather natural.

Well, merry Christmas everybody. Have a great day tomorrow.

I met Lyn’s brother, Paul today, for the first time. I’d never met him before. Lyn warned me he comes over every Christmas, but it was a bit of a surprise when he appeared at the door this morning. Lyn was still in bed, so when he appeared at the door, Andrezj and I just took him for another delivery guy. We were about to take his present and shut the door when he said ”tell Lyn I called’, and it was then that I realised who he was.

Of course we invited him in, and while Andrezj helped Lyn to get up, I got talking to Paul. I was, ii must admit, extremely nervous: it’s not every day that you meet the brother of your – somewhat older – girlfriend. I didn’t know what he thought of me, and half expected him to ask ”what are you doing messing around with my little sister”. I needn’t have worried: once we got chatting, I realised Paul was a very nice guy, and a family man. Lyn wheeled in shortly after, and we got talking. I must admit I was touched to see how well Paul and Lyn get on.

I realised, as those two spoke, that I have a new family to find out about. I don’t know any of them, but, if all goes to plan, they’ll be part of my extended family before long, so I best get cracking. Knowing that makes me smile, but most of all I’m really pleased with how I got on with Paul. It feels like a worry has been lifted from my shoulders.

I suppose I should say something about Vince cable today. What he said in the torygraph is all over the news, but I suppose it makes a change from reports about the weather. I think I’m in two minds about this issue: on the one hand, I’m glad that at least someone is standing up to Murdoch. If he takes full control of BskyB, sky will just become a British version of Fox news, which we can ill afford. On the other hand, I wish cable had kept his views about Murdoch to himself: we needed him in the cabinet, and a central part of it, as he is the only rational voice there. The other Lib dems in high up positions have all betrayed their principles for personal gain. Cable was the only true liberal there, as evidenced by his unease with the direction that things are going. How very telling that he has now been demoted, as it were, and stripped of some of his former power? CaMoron is forcing the lib dems to tow the line or disk demotion.

I can’t get too wound up about this today, though. We now have a tree – a real, live one – and we’ll decorate it tonight. I’m safe and warm with Lyn to snuggle up to. I feel like a kid again. Politics is politics, but those are the things that really count.

Just to get you all in the festive spirit, I think I’ll send you here. It’s one of my favourite christmas songs but cooler. I just heard it, and now feel like a party. I think I’ll grab a brandy and sit back while the government implodes.

Yesterday afternoon I began to feel strange. Oddly, I kept on wondering what mum’s kitchen smelled like, and whether the piano was still in it’s place in the dining room. I suppose I was feeling, for the first time since I moved in with Lyn, homesick. This place, of course, is my home now, here in London, but you can’t cut the emotional ties too the house in which you grew up, especially not this time of year. It is, after all, almost a year since I saw that place – slept in my old bed, sat at my place at the kitchen table.

There was only one thing for it: Skype! I rang my parents, and Mum answered. The kitchen, she explained, smelled of rice pudding, but the day before it had smelled of Christmas cake, a rich, delicious smell I remember well. Mum cooks one every year, and I suspect I’ll be having some of it on Saturday afternoon. Never have I looked forward to a cake more, for I’ll be eating it with my family. Aside from my older brother, Mark, and of course Kat, my immediate family will be together for the first time in months, and I can’t wait! Mind you, apart from email, I don’t think I’ve had contact with Mark for a year, so his presence will be greatly missed indeed, but he spent last Christmas with us so it’s only right that he spends this one with Kat’s family.

Skype helped greatly, and speaking to mum cheered me up a great deal, but a while later I decided I needed something you wouldn’t really expect from me. I sent Andrzej to by a copy of the Sunday Times. My parents get it, for some long-lost reason, and I used to love reading the Culture section with the TV guide. Every year they do a two-week guide, and for me, it’s arrival is one of the signs, along with the Coke advert, that Christmas is here. You have no idea how inordinately happy I felt when my PA handed me that paper; never before has a broadsheet brought so much joy. I opened it and found the two-week edition of the Culture supplement. And once again I felt at home and at peace: Christmas has come!

I probably should have blogged about this yesterday or on Friday, but I think it was on Thursday night that I watched a programme called ”Jeff Brazier: Me and My Brother”, concerning Brazier’s relationship with his disabled half-brother. I must say that this programme made me very angry, not so much at Brazier (whose only claim to fame, I should point out, is having once been married to Jade Goody) but at his brother Spencer. Spencer has cerebral palsy and lives with his mum. This programme showed him to be extremely lazy, using his mum to do everything, but that wasn’t my main qualm: Spencer refuses to define himself as disabled although he clearly is. That is to say, he saw himself as somehow better than the rest of ‘us’. For example, the dude uses sign language to communicate, but obviously could do with a communication aid, so his brother Jeff take him to meet Toby Hewson. I know Toby, and he is a wonderful spokesperson for VOCA users, but Spencer seemed to think he was somehow superior to Toby because Toby used a chair. This made me very angry indeed – it seemed to betray a type of bigotry that seemed to say ”I’m not like you because I can walk. I’m superior”. Not only did he insult a man whom I count as a friend, but he insulted me. It seemed that Spencer would rather just keep using sign language than admit to being disabled. Sign language is fine, but I’d like to see him try to order a beer in a pub using it. Moreover, the irony is Toby is, in a way, far less disabled than Spencer, as at least he actually goes out and does things for both himself and other, whereas Spencer seems to use his (milder) CP as an excuse to be a couch potato.

I suppose whether he uses a VOCA or not is his prerogative, but in this program Spencer Brazier struck me as a stuck-up, lazy good-for-nothing, in deep denial about who he is, demanding everything be done for him. His arrogance in not heeding the advice of his brother and in dismissing toby and the rest of ‘us’ lead me to think, as the programme ended, ”what an idiot”

Christmas day is in just over a week, and, although I’ll be seeing much of my family on the day itself, it’s strange to think that this will me my first Christmas not spent with most of my family. In years past, Christmas meant going to my parents home, where I grew up. Aside from my visit to Australia, my Christmases have been spent in the house where I was born. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a bit strange not to be there this year; yet at the same time it feels thrilling to be here, with my bride-to-be, this year. I know Christmas with Lyn won’t be like the Christmases of my past, yet that is what thrills me. I am spending Christmas, for the first time, with the woman I love, and as much as it feels like leaving the past behind, with all the nostalgia and emotion that goes with it, I know that, this Christmas, I belong here. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than sharing Christmas with my future wife.

I think I will write just one more entry about last Thursday, then change subjects next time. It strikes me as interesting how so many contrasting versions of events have arisen from one day. On the one hand, there are those that claim that the violence was all the protesters fault, and that the police were forced to act as they did. At the other end of the scale, there are those that claim that the police wanted there to be trouble in order to justify their violence, even going as far as alleging that the police planted agitators in the crowd. I must say I find that idea ludicrous, but I also do not think the police are totally without blame either. Then there’s the case of Jody Macintyre: the police acted disgustingly in ripping him from his chair, but do you really think the cops would do this just for ‘rolling towards them’? I doubt it was much, and nothing can justify their actions, but he must have been doing something to provoke the police, and I don’t think he s being completely truthful. Thus there are those who blame the violence on thugs in the crowd, and those who blame it on police agitation. I was there and saw thugs throwing rocks at the police totally unprovoked; when I got home I saw firm evidence of police brutality. I do not think you can blame one side or the other, as some people seem very eager to do. The truth is, as we all know, a subjective construct, so I refuse on this occasion to fall into one camp or the other.

In no way should this be viewed as a retraction. I stand by my belief that the violence of last Thursday was caused by people in the protest bent on making trouble. Tension, as I say, was building throughout the day, and it was they who started throwing stones. Yet I was wrong to think it was completely their fault. When I left, just before all hell broke loose, the police were in a line between parliament and the protest, intimidating but calm. They let me through when I asked, and I assumed that they would not act without provocation. However, nothing – absolutely nothing – can excuse their actions here. They pulled a disabled protester from his chair not once but twice. It is thee equivalent of breaking his legs, and goes way beyond reasonable force.

I don’t know what happened to cause all this. frankly I am just relieved that I got out in time. My fellow disabled protester, Jodie Macintyre, having more balls than I did, stayed, and the police punished him for it. What he did to provoke the police is not clear, but I’m sure it was not that much. He gives – or tries to give – his account of what happened here.

Although it might cause my mum to worry, and my Dad either to frown or chuckle, I think I’ll send you to this footage of last weeks protest. I’ll let it speak for itself, apart from giving a chuckle of pride.

I still think that many kids went to the protest on Thursday because it was an opportunity to cause trouble – in fact I’m quite sure of it. I’m also sure that a few were totally uninterested in the politics of it all. However, they were in the minority. I found the violence abhorrent, and the atmosphere bloody scary, yet the fact is that what happened on Thursday was the result of something. It happened as a reaction to what was happening in parliament. The thugs may have used it as an excuse to wreak havoc and mayhem, yet that excuse was given to them by what was happening in the House of Commons. Most people there were only interested in peaceful protest, and, like myself, fled when it started to turn, yet even they seemed revolted by what the proposed cuts. What we saw on Thursday, and what we saw on three previous occasions, was a response to what the government is doing. Responsibility must ultimately lie with David CaMoron and his joke of a government for trying to impose these cuts. Even if we place the hooligans aside what we are seeing at these demonstrations is enormous anger at what the government is doing: on Thursday I could almost feel it in the air. If what we saw on Thursday, on previous occasions and the protests yet to come is anything to go by, the people of this country do not want CaMoron’s government in power.

I think the events of Thursday really shook me up. After all, it’s not every day that one almost gets caught up in a riot, and it’s not every day that you’re wallet is stolen. It wasn’t till yesterday afternoon that I could think of much else. I now think I was wrong to go – on Thursday morning I had this nave idea of being a revolutionary and marching with my fellows; I now see that a riot is no place for a cripple, and that there are far better ways to show my opposition to the government. Besides, I suspect many kids there were simply concerned with damaging central London, and were not interested in the politics of it all. I still feel, of course, that what the government is doing is wrong and that these ideologically-inspired cuts must be opposed, but there are far better, and safer, ways for me to do this. I can write far better than I can shout anyway.

I believe that, for the first time in my life, yesterday I was truly scared. It reached a point where instincts took over and I had to leave. It all started well enough – there was a carnival-festival, a music system pulled by a tandem bike, and even a samba band. I got talking to a few people, including a journalist from Greece, and all seemed well. Yet I could sense that something was building up; it felt like things were getting more and more tense. There seemed to be some people there who were spoiling for a fight; many were masked. Then, at about three, something snapped and the carnival atmosphere went completely. I heard someone say ”this is about to get nasty”.

It was then that I felt I had to leave. The police told us we were free to go. I had to go through the line of policemen in riot gear in order to get back across the river to catch the bus home. They let me through without question – the police, although intimidating in their riot gear, did not seem hostile. Contrary to the claims of some, it was the protesters who started the trouble – many seemed bent on it. As I left I saw sticks and bottles fly through the air – one hit me on the back of my chair. That was no place for someone who can’t dodge things or run. Never have I felt so scared.

As I made my way home I saw police vans go in the opposite direction – I’d obviously made it out just in time. I got home safe but shaken up, and with my wallet missing. What I thought would be a peaceful demonstration had been hijacked by hooligans and thieves. I never want to experience what happened yesterday again.

I’ll write about this more soon, but I better just say that I got home fine, if slightly shaken. I left just as things were starting to kick off. It started peacefully but people started to throw things, and I decided that it was no place for the likes of me.

I was not exaggerating when I wrote that, without my experiences at university, I would not be living with Lyn. Uni taught me that I didn’t need to rely on my parents, that, with the right systems in place, I could be independent of them. It taught me so much socially, that when I think that many kids like I was aren’t going to get the opportunity to go to university because it now costs too much, it makes me sick. Perhaps I’d have gone anyway – who knows – but it revolts me to think that many young people are going to be denied the experience I had because of the narrow-mindedness and treachery of our current government. That is why, all being well, I will shortly be getting on the bus and going in to central London to march with my fellow students.

My greatest congratulations go out to the England cricket team for winning the second test in Australia. It is a huge achievement, and I couldn’t stop grinning yesterday. However, today I want to write about more weighty, if no more important, issues.

I have been thinking about Wikkileaks, among other things. For a while, I couldn’t decide what to think, which is why I haven’t blogged on the subject earlier. I could see the point of those who claim that releasing certain information to the public could be dangerous. But then I asked myself: what is the public? Why should some people be privy to information and others not? Go we not all have a right to know what is going on in our world, and what our governments are doing? Why should some information be hidden from us? Thus I see what Julian Assange is doing as a huge public service: it is clear that we are being kept in the dark on issues which we, the public, have a right to know about. His arrest, on whatever trumped up charge, is a clear act of censorship and a sign that our governments want to hide things from us.

The Americans want to extradite him, apparently, but as far as I can tell he has committed no crime. The only crime committed was by the man who stole the documents fro the army – putting them on the web was not a criminal offence, so to seek to punish Assange for doing so amounts to no more than an act of repression. Therefore this all boils down to an issue of the freedom of speech and the right to tell others things we think they have a right to know. Assange clearly thought we have a right to know what the governments of the world were up to, so for such governments to want to silence him – even going as far as calling for his execution as some have done – is an act of despotism. Indeed, it is the first link in a chain which would bind us all irrevocably. I would therefore urge to care about our liberties to speak out on this subject.

I should probably update you on my money status, in case you were worried. I decided to risk it and venture out for money. I took the bus, on Lyn’s advice; when the paths are ice-free, I can make it to Woolwich and back easily, but there are a couple of steep hills that I did not fancy trying to power up at all. So, I hopped on the 54, and was there within ten minutes. I got my cash (enough to last the week) then I decided to buy some gloves from M+s as my hands were numb. Rather kindly, the lady in the store helped me put them on, but you should have seen the trouble she had. I was by then feeling festive, so I bought a box of mince pies too. I came back on the bus, thinking that snow isn’t so bad – you just have to know how to handle it.

Winter is really getting annoying. It really is bitter. Other than the concert on Thursday night, I haven’t been outside since Tuesday. I can barely control my chair wwith the pavements as they have been, let alone walk on them. The sun has come out today, but it’s barely above freezing so I doubt that we’ll be going anywhere. It’s safe and warm in the house. Problem is, I’m out of cash so I can’t buy more supplies. We just send our PA out to the shop when we need stuff, but I’m out of money to give her. Lyn has a card, but it’s unfair on her for me not to pay my way. I can’t see myself going to get more cash until the pavements are ice free. It’s starting to worry me. Winter, I suppose, affects us all in different ways, but as it stands, it’s money that is my prime concern.

I was just watching a programme called Freddie Flintoff – Ashes Hero, and I was struck by the contrast between cricket and football, especially at the moment. Currently, in the realm of cricket, England are playing Australia in the ashes, one of sports longest-lasting rivalries. But I think it’s a rivalry of great warmth and friendship: both England and Australia respect each other deeply; we love visiting each other’s countries every couple of years. That’s why I wrote on here the other day that at least we drew the first test, as it means we won’t lose five nil again. I would not mind losing to the Australians now as, going by recent form, we have every chance of winning next time. And even when we did loose five null, I had such a great time Down under that I could not begrudge them their victory for too long.

The vibe I get from the world of football is currently completely different. To be crude it seems far less civilised, particularly since Friday. Loosing that world cup bid really stings, far more than losing the ashes in Australia, largely because it was so very unfair. We should have won that bid on Thursday, but because of the corruption of Fifa, football won’t ‘come home’ for at least thirty years. The whole thing reeks, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. Australians, I should add, have just as much right to feel as slighted as we do, as the games they should have won were inexplicably given to Qatar. What Fifa did was deplorable, and has brought itself and the entire game of football into disrepute. That’s why I’m just going to watch cricket, as it is more certain where games will be hosted, and England have a chance of winning.

It feels good to be able to write an entry about what I, or rather we, got up to last night. It was our first proper night out in ages, and it was a damn good one. Lyn and I, together with Andrezj and Natalia, went to see Arcade Fire up at the O2 arena. Because we had two Pas, I was able to go in my manual chair, which, because of the weather, I was extremely grateful for. We got there about half seven, giving us time for a nice leisurely dinner before going in to see the show. It was the first time I had seen the inside of the arena for myself, and I must say it impressed me, not least by just how big it is, and how well positioned the wheelchair enclosure is (although at one point someone spilled some kind of cold liquid on my head from behind us).

It was Arcade fire who impressed me the most though. They’re a Canadian rock group from Montreal. Truth be told, I was unfamiliar with most of their stuff – Lyn keeps berating me for just listening to a mixture of the Cat Empire and Carly Simon – but I got into it. It was my first ever rock-concert, and I really enjoyed watching the band perform: they had one guy who seemed to be possessed by a monkey, and bounced around the stage banging a drum. The lead singer also impressed me through his showmanship and curious hairstyle. The whole thing blew me away, and I came out of the arena thirsty for more. Arcade Fire have a new fan, as do rock concerts in general.

The outcome of the 2018 world cup hosting competition has just been announced, and I am appalled at the outcome. It is quite obvious that FIFA is a corrupt organisation which should be disbanded immediately. In voting for Russia they have become the henchmen of an autocrat, as its obvious that Putin is using FIFA to spur the modernisation of his country he himself cannot. Had they voted to give the competition to the UK, it would have been awesome, as the infrastructure is already here. We know how to put on a party. I suppose we cannot be too disappointed, aw we have the Olympics; plus, between that, the cuts and the royal wedding, we cannot really afford the world cup. Nevertheless, the UK should have been successful in their bid, and would have been were it not, I suspect, for FIFA’s obvious corruption. I’d like to see a public inquiry into this – perhaps then we’ll discover who bribed whom.

Okay, perhaps the word corruption is a bit strong, but it’s plain that this decision was politically motivated and I would not be surprised if money did indeed change hands. The country with the best bid did not win.

What happened last night was really rather amazing, and an experience I will treasure. We had a night in – all ideas of going outside being put on hold for the foreseeable future – and we decided to do some fortune telling. Yesterday was saint Andrew’s day, and it is apparently Polish tradition. Ordinarily I shun such things, but I gradually found myself becoming more and more fascinated. Andrezj and Natalia melted a candle over the hob, and then dropped the hot wax into a bowl of cold water. When it was cool, they held it up and shone a torch on it; the silhouette, they said, could tell the future. I’m not sure I believe that, but it was amazing to see what shapes were made on the wall: I’m sure I could see a woman in a wedding dress when Lyn’s future was being told. When mine was being told, I think I saw two people kissing. In the half light of the lit candles, I felt warm and cosy – the future, I think, is going to be good, whatever the wax said.