As you may or may not know, 2011 is the UK year of communication. I came across this article earlier, about communication aid users. It features Beth, a young woman whom I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, and a truly outstanding spokesperson for the communication-aid using community. I’m not sure what impact having our own year will have – it is, after all, also the year of feeding tubes, as well as a great many other things apparently – but if it makes people more aware of voca users, then it can only be a good thing. Anyway, go and have a look.

I cannot really tell you how I found it, but yesterday evening I came upon this rather interesting article about the Maryland youth ballet involving children with disabilities in their productions. Let me state from the get-go that I have no objections to this: there’s nothing more natural than little girls wanting to dress up and dance. Yet it does raise a few interesting questions pertinent to the subjects of inclusion and disability.

Ballet is traditionally quite an elitist art form; I’m sure most of us have read about the body fascism that seems endemic in ballet schools. These are places where anorexia seems almost normal, and where any girl even remotely plump is bullied mercilessly. That’s what makes this article so interesting: dance seems almost innately anti-inclusive, but they are applying the principles of inclusion to it. While it’s wonderful, it’s also kind of odd: its sort of oxymoronic, in a way, to open an art form where physical ability is prized over all else up to those with very little physical ability. Of course, you could argue the same of disability sport – kids with disabilities are frequently included in, say, football clubs. But I think it is in this case that the paradox is most pronounced, and thus the most awesome. I know none of these girls will ever dance professionally, just as nobody with cerebral palsy will ever play in the premiership, probably; but it is a symbolic blow against the elitism in society which seems to prize physical ability above all else.I suppose some may argue that this is nothing but a shallow gesture, and ask why these disabled girls should have the chance to dance while other able-bodied girls are turned away, despite being more physically able. After all, one goes to the ballet to watch examples of physical perfection, grace and beauty. Yet I would counter this by pointing out that the nature off all art is, in part, to ask questions of itself and the world, which is exactly what this does. If a person with severe cerebral palsy can dance alongside able-bodied professionals, then surely there is no limit to inclusion.

I must note that today is also my brother’s twenty-fifth birthday. Happy birthday Luke. I don’t get to see him much these days, and nowhere neaar as much as I’d like. Mind you, I’ve recently been ruminating over the fact that it’s now well over a year since I had any face-to-face contact with my older brrother, Mark. I know it’s a natural part of life, but I am very fond indeed of my brothers, and I think I better do something about seing them. Whille I’m sure we’ll talk on skype soon, I think something like a reunion must soon be arranged.

I am probably as alarmed as anyone at what is currently happening in north Africa and the middle east. The entire region seems to be ablaze; even seasoned commentators seem not to know what to make of it. Of course, as for myself, there is not much I can add to the debate or discourse: I know next to nothing of that region, or it’s politics. I can only really register my shock, horror and, if I’m honest, my fascination at what is going on.

For I must admit I do find it fascinating, as I’m sure anyone with even the slightest interest in world politics and history will. In the last few weeks, four or five of the regions dictatorships have fallen. Has there ever been such a spate in the history of the world? People compare it to the events of 1989 and the fall of the soviet union, but it could be even more monumental than that: the entire arab region is going through a huge shift. It’s like the UK, France, Germany and Italy all changing forms of government at once.

I suppose the next question is one nobody can answer: where is it all leading? We in the west hope democracies will be established in these countries. I truly hope freer countries are the result of these upheavals. Yet we cannot be sure that what eventually comes out of this won’t be regimes even more vicious and repressive than those of Gadaffi and Mubarak, which is why I am as worried as I am fascinated. All we can do is watch the news as the great drama plays itself out.

For all my writing and grandstanding about politics and about how these cuts will hurt us all, and about how CaMoron must go, I realise how comfortable and sheltered my life has been. I live a comfortable existence with the woman I love, the equipment I need and a supportive family within reach. While Lyn and I are worried about the impact of these cuts, I know I have the resources behind me in terms of friends and family to weather the storm. If you want to get an idea of the true impact of what the Tories are doing, please go here. Lives are being ruined, families torn apart. It’s heartbreaking, and it must be stopped.

I know this is not one of the usual subjects I blog about, but given who my future wife is and my taste in clothes, I see no reason why I shouldn’t comment on such issues. Worryingly, homophobic cards have appeared on the streets of Whitechapel and Shoreditch, declaring it a ”Gay Free Zone”. It’s evidence that there is a homophobic undercurrent stirring up in the east end of London. Perhaps even more worryingly is that the signs reference passages from the Koran.

Here’s where it sort of gets interesting, though, as there is a theory going around that these cards were actually placed there by the English defence League. Although I watch my fair share of science fiction, I must say I find that rather far fetched. It’s too convenient: rather than admitting that homophobia can arise in all sections of society, they would rather maintain that one particular group of far-right morons is stirring up fear of Islam by calling it homophobic. On the other hand, part of me wouldn’t put it past the EDL to do such a thing, then deny it using that very argument.

The truth is, we don’t know who is putting these signs up. It could very well be hard-line Islamists, or it could be the EDL. Either way, both homophobia and xenophobia must be combated.

We needed to get some odds and ends from the shops yesterday afternoon, so we decided to go over to Lewisham. On the way there, quite an unusual thing happened, which I think is worth recording. Lyn and I were both on the bus, having found a nice friendly bus driver who let us both on at the same time. We were sitting there quietly when a man sitting nearby began to take an interest in my lightwriter. This is nothing unusual in itself – people stare at my equipment all the time – but this man was different. It was not until he leaned over and started to gesture to his wife that I realised he was mute. He was interested in my lightwriter because it was something he could possibly use.

We got to talking: I showed him my lightwriter, and Lyn showed him her Ipad. He said he had an Ipad, but, interestingly, he got out a large magnetic stylus thing – the type children use to draw on – in order to write messages on. This struck me as a very low-tech form of communication, and I wondered if the couple had had any input from the relevant authorities about more high-tech equipment. It seemed somehow improvised; like something you might buy if you didn’t know there was specialised equipment.

Both parties got off at the shops, and went our separate ways. I thought about giving the gentleman my blog address so we could tell him more, but we didn’t get chance. While I’m sure he’ll be okay, the feeling of astonishment I got from him as he looked at my lightwriter, which, after all, is a pretty dated bit of equipment by now, gave me the scary impression that this couple had been abandoned by the council and left to find their own way to communicate.

If anyone is still under any illusion that the ‘huge structural deficit’ this country apparently has is anything other than a Tory lie; if anyone thinks the cuts they are imposing are necessary, and not part of the Tory scheme too rip up the state and cut tax for the rich; and if anyone thinks George Osbourne is anything other than a lying, dissembling twat, then I would direct you here. This clip clearly demonstrates that, far from being absolutely necessary, these cuts are provoked by Tory philosophy and will hit the poorest the hardest. While we’re on the subject, I noticed something interesting this week: one of the reasons the Tories cite for opposing the Alternative vote method is that, had it been in use last year, Gordon brown could still be in power. What does that say about the Tory mentality? They don’t give a rats ass about the will of the people, as long as they get to rule. Surely such people have no place in government and should be removed from power as soon as possible.

Regular readers of my blog will know that I usually disdain football, favouring gentler, more noble sports like cricket. Yet for certain matches and tournaments I have made exceptions, and have become as worked up as the rest of the country over the silly ball-kicking game. I think today will be such an occasion. As we all know, today Manchester united, one of the biggest clubs in the history of sport, play Crawley, a place I only know exists because my friend Emma comes from there. Being a northerner, I usually support Manchester when they play big teams. Yet I am a romantic, so today I want the smaller team to win. It would be awesome if Crawley pulled it off, wouldn’t it? In a way it would demonstrate, once and for all, that no matter how much money you have you can still be beaten by those with passion. It’d help cut a few egos down to size too.

I’ll therefore probably take myself round to the pub later, position myself near the screen, and hope against hope for the biggest upset of all time. Of course, my realistic side says it’ll be something like five nill to Manchester, but we can all dream, can’t we?

Surely anyone but a complete fool can see CaMoron’s ‘big society’ for the bullshit it is. He somehow expects the voluntary sector to magically step in and undo the damage caused by his cuts. Call me a pessimist, but that won’t work: volunteering is wonderful, but it won’t put food on the table. Things need doing – roads need sweeping, cripples need feeding – but it is unfair to expect people to do such things for free. What will happen, I strongly suspect, is that, as the state is reduced, it will be the private rather than the voluntary sector which will step in. CaMoron knows this, and all his talk of big society and encouraging altruism is a shallow front for the Tory desire to open things up to the free market.

I struck upon an idea last night which may be somewhat controversial. Feel free to leave a comment or email me if you disagree. Mind you speaking of which, I must first say that I have no intention of killing any bar staff, especially if it means traipsing halfway across London to do so, and I was never as drunk as Ricardio describes. Seldom anyway; and I certainly wasn’t that drunk on Sunday.

That aside, yesterday I stated to wonder whether there was a difference between ‘old crips’ and new crips’ in terms of attitude. Broadly – and this is essentially an arbitrary division – old crips are those with congenital conditions, who have been disabled from birth; new crips are those who have become disabled, through accident or otherwise, later in life. I was on facebook and I came across a woman complaining vehemently that disabled toilets shouldn’t be called disabled toilets but accessible toilets. I thought, ”relax, there are far bigger battles to fight than what bogs are called.” I know the person who said this, and they are a new crip. It occurred to me that, in my experience, those who have been disabled from birth are more likely to let such things slide, having learned over the years that some battles just aren’t worth the energy. I think one can be too combattative, and that this leads to a situation where one rails against the entire world. It’s unhealthy.

New crips are more likely to rail; I think, in some ways, they have more reason to. Yet I think they must learn to calm down, to accept the world as it is sometimes. They must learn, as we did as infants, that the world can never truly be how you want it to be.

I decided not to mention a fairly important detail in my entry yesterday, as I didn’t think it fitted the mood I was trying to convey, but which I think would be well worth recording today. As I said, we went to a pub just off Leicester square. It was quite an old place – the type of pub with a low ceiling and a real fire. Best of all, it had Leffe on tap. I was just getting into the live music when I decided it was time for another pint, so I asked Adrian to go and buy one for me. However, he soon returned with no pint and all the cash I’d given him – apparently, the woman at the bar had refused to serve us, accusing Adrian of being irresponsible for letting disabled people drink too much.

We left in a hurry. It wasn’t as if I’d drunk a lot. Surely it’s up to us and us alone how much we drink. Granted, bar staff have the right to refuse to serve anyone if they see fit, but what this woman apparently said was condescending, patronising and downright offensive.

Earlier today I came to the conclusion that, of any given time throughout the week, I like Sunday afternoons the best. Throughout my life, Sunday afternoons have been the most homely and warm: it was always a Sunday afternoon when my parents drove us home after visiting my grandparents in London, or, later, dropping mark off every term in oxford. It was on Sunday afternoons that I used to settle down before going back to university on Monday morning; a time to watch Time team, David Attenborough, or Michael Palin – the three best things on television.

I was thinking about this earlier. It occurred to me that, time being time, the Sunday afternoons of my past can never be revisited, although their memory remains. I’ll probably never again drive home with my parents after visiting my grandmother, get fed a sandwich by mum and then settle down to watch Tony Robinson drone on about the past. Yet the spirit of Sunday afternoons remains.

We were just up in London, sorting out bits and peices. We decided to get a quick drink in a pub, just off Leicester square. I was sitting by the fire, listening to the live music, when it occurred to me how good life was. It was Sunday afternoon: maybe not like the Sunday afternoons of the past, of long sleepy car rides and good TV to look forward to; but Sunday afternoons with Lyn, as great as they ever were – exploring this great city, and then coming home to eat dinner, snuggle, and look forward to the week ahead.

I have two or three short things to say today. Firstly, in denying prisoners the vote I think that the Tories have demonstrated how simplistically they view the world. In many respects, criminals are victims of societal constraints and pressures. Denying them the right to vote simply pushes them further away from society. This is an utterly stupid, narrow-minded move on the part of the government. Of course, people argue that if you have perpetrated a crime, you should no longer have the full rights of a citizen, but I think this is to view prisoners as untermench – innately bad people who do not deserve to be seen as fully human.

Secondly, I have been fascinated to watch events unfolding in Egypt. When I last saw the news, yesterday evening, mubarack had stepped down. I find this remarkable, not least because it is pretty much the first real revolution I’ve had the chance to watch live. Question is, how much can we in the west interfere: we can’t interfere too much or we risk accusations of imperialism; yet that means we risk extremists like the Muslim brotherhood coming to power, which would not be good. It is very complex when you think about it: we must respect the will of the Egyptian people, but what if that will is to elect leaders whose views run directly counter to our liberal, democratic values.

Both of these things are part of what I call the paradox of liberalism. Liberalism, or the belief in tolerance, seems to bring up many contradictions with itself. but this doesn’t mean we should disregard it for a simpler, more hard-line approach. It seems to me that part of being a liberal is forever being conscious of the contradictions and complexities involved in life. Only then can we see the world as it truly is.

It made me very happy indeed to watch Madagascar, narrated by David Attenborough, last night. I don’t know why, but I find his programmes intriguing. It’s not just that they are beautifully shot; I find it incredible to reflect on the fact that Sir David has been on television since before my parents were born, yet still produces some of the best programmes on television. Of course, part of the credit must go to the BBC natural History unit for taking such beautiful footage, but it is Attenborough, with his engaging yet relaxing narration style, who makes those shows so good. I was thinking about it last night – even when I was young I found his shows amazing: I remember once, when I was young, being very upset at seeing a small monkey gradually get weaker and fall out of a tree. I immediately crawled over to mum for a hug, wanting to know why the camera crew didn’t help. Mum explained that this was part of nature. I suppose it goes to show how much this great man has contributed to the public understanding of nature – I really hope he continues to do so for a long time yet.

Sir, I write to demand that you stand down as prime minister immediately. You were not elected democratically to that position in the first place, and it is only due to an act of treachery on the part of Mr. Clegg that you gained office. I find your actions over the past half year woeful: you are cutting services many disabled people like myself rely on, while pandering to your rich financiers in the City. I find the concept of a ‘big society’ nothing more than a shallow con, nineteenth century politics wrapped in twenty-first century jargon, and deeply rooted in free-market ideology. You are cutting services too fast and too hard, and every time it is shown how deeply you are hurting the ordinary people of this country, you trot out the lie that you had no choice.

For it is indeed a lie – a shallow, despicable lie for which you should bee removed from power. I demand that you stop perpetuating this falsehood. It was labour which steered us into a boom after 18 years of mismanagement, and labour who got us through the recession. For you to now try to con the country into thinking the ideological cuts you are choosing to implement are the fault of the previous government is nothing more than a deception – the weasel-words of a conman who charmed his way too power, and is now systematically undoing every good thing implemented over the last thirteen years. For this reason among others, you and your party are unfit to rule the united kingdom. The damage you are doing means you have nothing but my utter contempt. You gained power through the actions of a man unworthy of the party of Asquith and Lloyd-George, and immediately set about reopening class divisions. You are hurting the people of this country in order to please your rich backers. I demand that you stand aside and call new elections.

M Goodsell.

I felt a distinct shudder go through my spine when I first read the headline of this article, and the more I read the worse that shudder became. It is now apparently ‘unsustainable’ for the government to fund disability benefit: due to the cuts, there is going to be a twenty percent reduction in DLA. More and more people are going to be pushed off benefits and into work. This is not helped, of course, by an increasingly vitriolic tabloid press painting most disabled people as workshy scroungers.

They claim, of course, that those who need the most ‘care’ won’t be effected. I guess that means people with severe physical conditions – people like me and Lyn. We both need help with day to day activities – bathing, dressing eating. It occurs to me that, ironically, we are both more suited to work than those who may need less traditional help. I think, with the right adaptations, we could both do jobs – I have been doing a voluntary job at the local school for over a year now, and Lyn has skills as both a musician and webmistress. Yet we are less likely to be forced into work by those with, say, more emotional conditions, whom the authorities will look at, see that they can wash dress, feed themselves and so on and say ”You can do x, y and z. Off benefit and into work you go” without taking other things into consideration. Such ”other things’ may seem small to an assessor with a checklist of criteria and a quota to fill, but may be the difference between life and death to an emotionally fragile person. People with such conditions will be suddenly denied benefit and forced into work, at which point many will see no option but suicide.

I write this with utter serious. These cuts will effect the most vulnerable in society the hardest, and I find the lack of sympathy in the right sickening. The cuts they are implementing, and their lack of tolerance for people they simply dismiss as lazy fakers, utterly disgust me. To describe caring for some of the most vulnerable people as unsustainable caries with it overtones of some of the worst chapters of human history.

I know I shouldn’t simply link to stuff that has nothing to do with my blog, and that anyone is perfectly capable of finding theirselves, but I think today I’ll direct you here. Last night Bill O’Reilly interviewed president Obama, and I must say it makes for fascinating viewing. To be honest, when I heard about this interview this morning, I was eager to see sparks fly. However, it is actually a fairly sensible interview, and Obama deals with the right-wing nut job fairly well. Mind you, I sometimes wish someone would put morons like O’Reilly in their place, but although he is intellectually more than capable of doing so, Obama declined the opportunity. Anyway, go watch.

Just a quick one today. I just got wind of the utterly momentous news that my friend Tony is now a dad. Tony and I were friends at university. In fact I value him one of my best friends, although I rarely mention him on here. I remmber him driving me and charlie down to stoke to see Casino Royale in the cinema when it came out, and I remember going to film seminars with him. My gut reaction was one of shock, but now I come to think of it, I cannot think of a nicer, more caring fellow. Tony shaw will be a great dad.

There was an item on the local news last night about a painting by Gaugin recently selling for ten million quid. They made a bit of a deal about what an enormous sum of money that was, especially in this age of austerity, and indeed they had a point. Yet later in the show they spoke unquestioningly about footballers transferring from one club to another for five times that sum? How is that right? Yes, you could argue it’s only a painting, but like all art it has meaning; it is part of art history, which is intertwined with the history of ideas; it can be analyzed and has intellectual depth. Ten million is a lot – just think of how much communication or mobility equipment that could buy, or how much aid for Africa – but it just might – and I stress might – be worth it. What is manifestly not worth it, and is actually quite sick, is giving some football club 50 million for one of their players, then giving the footballer just as much simply to kick a ball around. The whole culture surrounding the game is wrong, and if I had the power I would start it all again with new players, clubs and managers, and a transfer fee limit of a tenner.

My blog passed the 500,000 hit mark yesterday – people have now visited my site over half a million times. I know that, given I’ve been blogging for about eight years, that’s not that special, and that the major blogs and websites get that in a week, or a day, but for me it seems a major milestone. To be honest, I didn’t really expect to keep blogging for thus long, but, as I wrote on Tuesday, something compels me to write down my thoughts every couple of days, and I can’t see that abating.

Looking back over past entries, my blog seems like a real miscellany of ideas and topics, as well as a record of my life over the past eight years. When I first began blogging, I was still living at home with my parents, finding topics online to blog about, or recording the day to day occurrences of the Goodsell household. Things have changed quite a bit since then. I’m rather pleased my blog spans my time at university, for it gives me near enough a full record of one of the happiest times of my life. Uni supplied most of the dramatis personae of my blog – people like Charlie and Ricardio and Steve, whom I mention quite a bit, and who have starred in some of the best entries. But there will soon be more characters to introduce, including a man known somewhat disconcertingly around these parts as chopper. As much as my blog is for me a record, it also is for me a reminder that there are some great entries yet to write. This drama is far from over. Indeed, it seems I’ll soon have several weddings to detail, not least my own!

You know, I reckon I’ve written nigh on 100,000 words for my blog over the years. I think that’s pretty good going. Granted, they are a cripple’s ill-informed ramblings, largely uncoordinated and haphazard, but I’m proud of most of my writings here, and I’m proud I’ve kept it up. I’ll do my best to keep blogging; for some reason, people seem to want to read what I write on here.

While I ordinarily hesitate to link to or believe anything the daily mail publishes, Alan, father of my friend Ricardio, just sent me this link. It concerns the student protests in the autumn, and the fact that there were thieves and trouble-makers disguised as protesters there. This certainly rings true: until quite recently I was a student and I think I know their defining characteristics. By and large, students are peaceful, like a bit of music and fun, and the occasional joint. I therefore went to the protest pretty much expecting to find similar people to my friends at university, if slightly more politicized; and indeed that is what I found when I first got there. But as the day wore on, things began to change, and the dynamic of the crowd turned from that of a carnival to something far more hostile. I believe strongly that there were people in the crowd manifestly intent on causing trouble, and that their hostilities began long before the police did anything to provoke them. The daily mail article bears out that there were people there who had nothing to do with the protest, but were just there to steal, pick pockets and ruin things. Indeed, I was one of their victims. My concern now, however, is that this will detract from the very real anger felt by the majority of protesters; Mail readers can now claim that the protest had nothing to do with the government, and that the anger on show was merely caused by a bunch of hooligans. The truth is, people feel very angry at what the Tories are doing, angry enough to go out onto the streets and protest, but those protests are being hijacked by trouble makers, causing their message to be diluted and impact to be softened.

I don’t know why, but I keep wanting to blog. As I wrote yesterday, it was a pretty awful weekend – I cant’t go into detail, but it was the most terrible thing to happen to me in a long time, particularly because it hurt Lyn so much. Yet, despite this, the urge to blog – to write down my thoughts and publish them online – was still there. I don’t know what’s wrong with me; it should have been the last thing on my mind. Yet, for some reason, sometimes I just wanted to write. I didn’t have that ability over the weekend. of course, many writers have described the compulsion to write: some even claim it’s a physical urge, or that they become ill if they can’t write for whatever reason. For me, I think, it’s a form of therapy – an outlet for my thoughts and emotions. It’s like an analysts couch. I know I don’t write much, and my entries are usually rather short and crappy, but blogging is something I feel I must do. It is as if I must tell the world what is in my head or it gets too full and explodes. Either that or I’m a drama queen craving attention. It’s as odd as it is annoying.