”I thought I got away with it…”

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Sorry, but I simply must send you to this bit of random genius from Peter Jackson, commemorating Orlando Bloom’s last day playing Legolas. Too funny not to flag up, although it is an interesting example of a piece of fan art being taken up by the original texts creators. Thus this could be a fascinating new step in the relationship between author, text and fan.

Get well soon, Mr Mandella.

You inspire me, as you do so many Reminding me never to give up never to stop fighting oppression

And that just battles can be won

Yet all I can offer you is this poem-blog This secular prayer into the electronic ether Which you’ll probably never see.

Yet my thoughts and hopes remain with you.

It might surprise some of you to hear that I still haven’t thought of a name for my new chair. I got a new powerchair, a Volt, two or three weeks ago: sturdy and reliable, it’s great for city life. It’s slower than my old F55, so I wasn’t sure I liked it at first, but it has proven ideal for getting on and off busses etc. And although the charger makes quite a din, the battery life is good too. Time, then, to give her a name, as I did with her predecessors, Defiant and Bat’leth. The problem is, I can’t think of one. I usually chose something Star-trek related: Defiant was named after a cool little warship from Deep Space nine; Bat’leth was named after a type of klingon sword. They were both sleek and powerful, and thus needed sleek and powerful names. My new char is different: More practical and reliable than sleek and powerful. So what can I call her? To let her remain unnamed would be dull. I’m thinking of calling it Yosemite, after the ‘old faithful’ geyser there, but I’m still open to suggestions.

Bibliography reformatting is dull It gives me time to think bores me out of my skull Takes me to the brink

But now it’s over, done

It’s time to relax, have fun

Time for a walk into a city

That, in the evening light looks so pretty.

My reward for my labour

So many smells, so much flavour.

Aye, a good stroll at the end of the day

Is enough to keep bibliography boredom at bay.

Last night I stumbled upon a film taken by an audience member at last years Star Trek London event, showing all five captains at a question and answer session. About halfway through, it emerged that there was once a short lived plan to resurrect the franchise with a film in which all five captains were brought together in some sort of time distortion and had to spend the rest of the film getting back to their own time frames. Of course, this would probably have sucked, which was probably why it was abandoned, but I must say it caught my attention too. It may well have worked; handled the right way, it might have been what the franchise needed. We live, as I see it. In an era where nothing is too far fetched: given that last year we saw the queen parachute out of a helicopter with James Bond, something which, before then, would surely have sounded totally absurd, we can’t rule anything out. That’s why I think that clip is so important: no idea can now be seen as too silly, too implausible. Thus why shouldn’t Kirk, Picard, Archer, Sisco and janeway unite in one more star trek epic? It would be a brilliant way to resurrect Trek. Indeed, before the 2009 reboot, such a stunt would have been the only way star trek could have been returned to its former cultural position. Now the reboot has been made, however, and the trek I loved has been superseded, there is little chance of that happening. Yet my point is nothing can be ruled out, so if others feel as I do about the return of proper Star trek, surely as dubious as this idea sounds it must be made so. Such a stunt would be the only way we could get proper star trek back, the way we fans knew it.

It has been quite a cool couple of days. Firstly, yesterday afternoon I made a couple of friends. Last sunday I was out for a walk when, just as I was passing a pub, a woman asked me to stop. She asked if I had cerebral palsy, and I said yes. Apparently, her on has cp too, so that, from a distance, she thoughtI was him. She invited me in for a drink, and, never one to turn down a beer, I accepted her offer. I went in, and we got talking. I could tell from the way she spoke and acted that her knowledge of disability was good, so she probably wasn’t lying or trying to dupe me. She introduced me to her partner, and said she worked in the media. I decided this contact was worth making, and gave her my email adress.

However, despite her promises, a few days later I hadn’t received anything from her. I suspected, though, that rather than her not bothering, she had simply taken down my email wrongly. So yesterday at about the same time, I set off for the same pub, just on the off chance she would be there again. To my surprise, she was, this time with her son, Luke. He is a powerchair and communication aid user, and, more importantly, an actor and writer. I instantly decided I liked him. Again we got talking, exchanging stories and proper contact details. It seems that they are in the process of fund raising to buy Luke a mechanised Neater-eater, and I (together with Lyn) was invited to the event. I came home happy, feeling that I’d made some new good friends, and eager to introduce Lyn to them.

Today was another cool day: some guys are designing a new instrument for Lyn, a ‘Lynstrument’ (their name!) They came to show her their latest work today, and I think we were both mightily impressed. I won’t say much about it, as it is a work in progress, but it is very exciting indeed. I cannot wait to see Lyn do a gig with that thing: she will have even more ability to get a crowd thronging with it. And I daresay I would not bet against Luke and his mum being here too, all being well.

I get disability living allowance, and I don’t mind admitting to that, but I must say that I find this call in the daily mail for the publication of weathfare recipients details very offensive indeed. In fact it has made me quite furious. Of course, whoever wrote this article seems to think to perfectly reasonable, and that tax payers have a right to know where their money is going. I find the arrogance and patronisation staggering. We benefit claimants have rights too: a right to privacy; a right not to be seen as scroungers; a right not to be perceived as inferior to those who pay tax; a right not to be seen as the effective property of the state, as whoever wrote this article seems to imply we should be. Such a list would render anyone on it second class citezens, underlings expected to be grateful. I am beside myself with rage that such a hurtful, despicable idea could be seriously proposed in a national newspaper. It is one thing for me to chose to be open about claiming DLA, and quite another to be automatically placed on a list of ‘scroungers’.

My friend john just sent this my way. It must surely be one of the most incredible things I’ve seen in a long, long time. It concerns a woman who goes diving in her wheelchair, performing a type of underwater wheelchair ballet. I must say, if there wasn’t video evidence, I would have dismissed it as some kind of joke, but the proof is there and it is absolutely beautiful. Check it out!

Chugging along on a bus

For to a bank I must

Bumping through the city backwards

In the crip-only space

In a bus going southwards

Through this mad chaotic place.

I recently decided that it is high time I found something new to obsess over. My three main interests in terms of media – bond, Star trek and Lord of the rings – are all cultural megaliths, and cornerstones of popular culture. While I think that there is something in all three that I’ll always love, I now think I need something new to squeal about, something less mainstream. After all, they are all sort of passe; everyone knows about these mainstays of american post-classical film. To admit to being a fan of any of the three franchises sort of marks one out as a bit nerdy, a bit uncool. Time, then, for me to find something more niche, something less wellknown, for me to become a fan of: the question is, what? Sometime soon I plan to go on to Youtube to look for new narratives and characters – narratives completely unknown in mainstream media. I have no idea what that new obsession will look like, but I just want it to be the antithesis of the queen-escorting, multi-oscarwinning cultural phenomena I have been occupied with for so long. Any suggestions?

I have a bit of coolness for you today: check out this recent talk by charles hazlewood followed by a performance by two members of the paraorchestra. I find it interesting because charles explains a bit about what he had to go through to get their monumental olympic gig last year. Truth be told I haven’t heard much from the orchestra recently, what their plans are (lyn hasn’t told me whether she’s heard much either), but I’m sure something will be in the pipeline. It is cool to relive some of the glories of las year anyway, and then chill out to some cool tunes on what is turning into a very hot afternoon.

I must say that, while I agree that this story is rather sad, I can’t help but see a bright side. It concerns a class photograph in which a disabled young man is pictured sitting separated from his young classmates. Of course, semiotically that sends out precisely the wrong message: it implies that all wheelchair users are diseased and should be kept apart from ‘normal’ pople. No wonder the boy’s mother was so upset. Yet the fact remains they are in the same photograph: yes the boy could have been positioned closer to his friends, but what matters is they are friends. The picture proves this boy is being included. Not so long ago, there would have been no boy in a wheelchair at all in this picture, as such children were all dumped in special schools. That’s why I can’t feel too negatively about this image: there may be a gap, but at least they are all in the same frame.

Out in the garden again, an abstract to do

A productive day, though. A distraction or two

Wouldn’t go amis. So here we sit

You on your pad, I on mine

Not talking, but that’s fine

Just being together after a days stress That’s all I need…that and your caress

First of all, let me just wish my mum a very happy birthday for yesterday. Secondly, let me wish dad happy father’s day for today. We saw them both last night: Lyn and I went to a very nice meal with my parents, plus Luke and Yan, at an indian restaurant in north London. It took a whilee for us to get up there so we were quite late, but despite that I had a great time: Lyn and I told them all about our holiday, and I think they appreciated the books we got them as joint presents. Seing my little brother and his lovely wife was great too. In all, then, it was a great night out with (most of) the family; I always think such nights reset my batteries, allowing me to refocus by keeping me grounded. Above all, I hope my parents have a great weekend.

Today I’d just like to direct you here, to some of the most inspirational, life-affirming words I’ve read in quite some time.

[quote=”Alan Larson”]. It took me until about the 5th and 6th grade to recognize that walking was actually a prison and that a wheelchair was where I might experience some sense of the freedom ambulators felt. And when I got that wheelchair it was TOTAL FREEDOM! [/quote]

People think our chairs imprison us, but they set us free; people see disability as a curse, but we are proud, strong and happy.

I just have a small little incident to record today, which although fleeting, troubles me. I as just in Woolwich in a book shop. As I was making my selection, I overheard the girl at the check out talking to a customer: apparently they had had a ‘Help For Heroes’ poster in the window, but had been told to remove it by someone who threatened to wreck the store if they didn’t. That is all of the conversation I caught, but, given the areas recent history, I find it worrying. Of course, I do not know who made the threats: one must resist leaping to conclusions. It is too easy to assume they were made by so called immigrants. Yet I fear this signals a deepening of ethnic tensions in Woolwich stemming from the murder of drummer rigby, and if that is the case, it heralds troubling things indeed.

Lyn took this on sunday night as we sheltered from quite a heavy storm. Happy times, although after two days work, they already seem quite a while ago! [img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/marseille1.jpg[/img]

Incredibly, Lyn was back at work in her studio when I got up from the sofa to bid her good night last night. I don’t know how she does it – I was completely shattered by then. It had been a long, frantic few days: to be honest I have no idea what to write about our trip, where to begin and how much detail to give. Probably the first thing to say is that we ha a lot of fun, but it also has to be said that there were down sides too. Marseille struck us as quite a dirty, rather dilapidated city: I got the sense that it was once great and proud, but had falen into disrepair. The streets were far from clean; it was noisy and busy. That is not to say it was not beautiful: I really loved some o the classical French architecture – the quaint streets and the quintessential houses which all seemed so higgledy-piggledy. We had so much fun exploring them. We were also struck by the lack of authentic local quinine: fast food outlets and pizza shops were all too abundant.

We also enjoyed going outside the city. On sunday we went to L’estaque, a small fishing village not far to the north, where we saw a strange sort of jousting on boats. They had special, longish boats, each with five or six young boys in them, with a raised platform at the stern. The boys took it in turns to stand on the platform as the boats tilted at each other, and the boys tried to nock his opponent into the water. It looked like great fun. After watching this game for a while, we walked further up the coast: I was again taken with the architecture, this time because it was defensive. It looked to me like there were once a couple of castles there, guarding the port. On the way back, e stumbled upon ‘Yes We Camp’, an ecological village of performative architecture built just outside L’estaque, built to mark Marseille 2013. It was a very cool place, reminding me of a cross between a hippy commune and Alsager campus.

There we had a beer, and it was also there that we took the opportunity to get online. It is strange to think how important getting online now is to us, and this trip really drew my attention to that fact. Our hotel had no internett access, so for the first time in my life I felt eager to go into a Macdonalds, simply in order to use the free Wifi.

It was also at L’estaque that, whilst I was blogging, I lost the now famous bet that I could not prevent myself from saying sorry. Dom made it, I think, to draw my attention to the fact that I keep apologising, and that if you overuse certain words they loose their meaning. However, a few hours later he relented and let me have a beer.

The next day we went out late, having had what can only be termed a crazy night. It had involved some heavy rain, a fairly drunk guy who approached us in the park with a snow-white dog called Bob, and rather too much alcohol.We took the boat to les isles des Frioul, a stunning island not far fro the city once famously used as a prison. Now, though, it is a nature reserve full of interesting rock formations. We spent a happy couple of hours there (John took a dip in the sea) before buying dinner and getting the boat home. That evening was somewhat calmer tan te one before, but we did see some pretty cool live music in a bar not far from our hotel.

So that’s it: home again, and back to work. In all I found it quite cool, although, given that Marselle is not the most accessible place in the world, nor frankly the cleanest, I think we’ll be going elsewhere foor our next holiday. But if you don’t go, you never know. Indeed, now we know that it is possible for us to go on such trips, hopefully many more will follow. I just hope I can break the habit of constantly saying sorry.

On the train back into London, and the skies are once again bleak. Shame. It has been a brilliant few days. Of course, I will write a full account of our holiday tomorrow: I have so much to tell you about, from watching people dance in a park at midnight to exploring a beautiiful island to encountering a dog whose name we think was Bob. For now, though, let me just assure you that we are all safe and well, and that once again I find mŷself feeling a very lucky man to have such a wonderful life.

I must go down to the sea again

To the lonely sea and the sky

For all I ask is a tall ship

And a star to steer her by.

And some girls

..,And maybe a few beers too.

(poem composed waiting for the boat back from les isles des Frrioul, a beautiful island off Marseill, where a blissful afternoon was just spent.)

Dominik has bet me that I won’t be able to keep myself from apologising for an entre day. If I don’t utter the word ‘sorry’ before midnight I get five bottles of leffe, but if I do I can’t drink for the rest of the trip. Sounds easy, utt I habitually say sorry constantly. Anyway, we are currently sitting in the bar of the camp for the organisation behind Marseilles capital of culture: it is a pretty cool place by the sea, with free wifi. Lyn and I take advantage of internet access when w can get it. I was just typing this entry when Dom commented about me already using the net, and force of habbit made me blurt out the S word. Damn!

Marseille is a fascinating place, full of culture and life. It feels like a cross between north Africa and Spain, not that I have ever been to either place. We are having a (soft) drink before an evening of exploration, but I will just say I already feel amazed at how different this place feels to anywhere I have been before.

Today is the day upon which our adventure begins. Lyn and I fly to france today, to Marseille,just for thee days. To be honest I’m rather nervous about it, as we haven’t really planned this trip – our accommodation was only finalised yesterday afternoon – but I’m also excited. It feels like an adventure; not one of those sanitised, thought-out things you go on with your parents when you’re little, but the type of thing those with able bodies and a strong sense of fun go on. Of course we are going with John and dominik, who seem like they can handle any situation, so I know we’ll come home in one piece.

So this is it: pretty soon things will get going – one last bit of packing, then we’re off.I just can’t wait to see the sights and sounds of a different city, a different culture. I’ll try to post entries on here while we’re down there, just to let you (and in particular my parents) we’re still alive. I can’t guarantee that, though: we might be having so much fun that the thought of blogging goes out the window, finally breaking my blog-a-day regimen. What a pity! Either way, when we get back I should have a tale or two to tell. What such tales will be, I have no idea, but I can’t wait!

he Accessible Leeds Show is a new disability themed podcast presented by Nathan Popple a bight young communication aid user whom I know from Onevoice. The first show is planned to be published here in the next month or so, and will definitely be worth checking out. Well done nathan and well done Leeds!

Today’s random(ish) link is this one The beeb is reporting that ‘Researchers have harnessed the power of thought to guide a remote-control helicopter through an obstacle course. The demonstration joins a growing number of attempts to translate the electrical patterns of thoughts into motions in the virtual and real world.” I think I have made a post about this before, but it seems they have finally cracked telepathically-controlled machines. Quite apart from being completely amazing, as the article says this has implications fot people with disabilities, allowing them to control things around them. We’d be able to be much more independent. Imagine a thought-controlled vacuum cleaner, or even a car. Mind you, I think today Lyn would like a device which just kept me out of her studio.

I know I should probably write something about the queen today, about her sixty years on the throne, and about how innately undemocratic it all is. We could go over arguments about how the very concept of monarchy has no real place in the modern world, and about the stupidity of throwing billions of pounds of taxpayers’ money into supporting a family which did no earn their power or position, yet lords over us all, thinking that they were born to rule. I could, and perhaps should, rail against the innate innequality of it all, and about how the queen in many ways symbolises everything I usually loathe. Yet I can’t: The truth is I have a soft spot for the old cow, even a grudging admiration. She has been doing a job she didn’t ask for for sixty years, day in, day out. You might reply that she could abdicate, true, but in my book that deserves at least some respect. In a way she has been a constant in most of our lives; I must admit she has been a benign, reassuring figure to me (mind you, thinking that way is probably how dictators stay in power). She has also been in my good books since her olympic entrance. Thus whileI know I should do the good leftie thing and denounce everything the queen stands for, I’ll pare you that rant, and just say that I hope the queen and everyone else has had a good day, now that the sun is finally out.

Today I feel duty-bound to direct you here, to a very brave and stirring statement from George Rolph. He is in Day 14 of his Hunger Strike, which he is doing for others going through what he has had to endure: persecution at the hands of atos. His story, like many others I have come across, is horrific, and can now without hyperbole be called persecution. They are actively victimising those with disabilities, trying to force them off benefits, while the right wing press portrays us all as lazy scroungers. I applaud him, but find it very worrying indeed that people ar now being pushed into such action.

This image struck me as quite astute. You know, it’s only because of the media that we worry about things like terrorism. Without it we’d exist in blissful ignorance, worrying about things pertinent to our own lives instead. Plus I daresay it will amuse Lyn, given my habit of crashing out in front of the box all evening. [img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/terrorism.jpg[/img]

Woolwich today was a vision of peace. The only raised voices were those raised every Saturday by stall holders, broadcasting their wares. I persuaded John to push me down there, still being powerchairless, curious to see the famous BNP and EDL march. I had joked to Lyn that I was out to find something to blog about. When we got there, though, I almost wept: children played on bouncy castles as their mothers, some in islamic dress, looked on; music was being played, ice cream was being sold. It was a vision of Britain far truer than that of any thug: content, inclusive and serene.

The only clue at all that something may have been afoot was there was a group of four or five police officers off to one side. I rolled up to them, and asked them about the protest. They explained that it had been cancelled, and I cheered: true britain had prospered over a fascist bastardisation of it, and there was nothing else to do but enjoy the peace, continue our walk and try to find something else to blog about.