Not that I wan to repeat myself, but last saw another great gig from Gus. It was generally the same format as the last one, with Gus’ awesome mix of contemporary and classic rock, Lyn performing three of her pieces, and two or three more acts. This time, though, the man with the rich velvety voice I described last time sang ‘Over The hills and Far Away’. I have loved that song since watching Sharpe as a kid, and, knowing it had rather ancient roots, had mentioned it to him last time. He sang it excellently, and I was enthralled.

I love nights like last night. You know, things like the Olympics are well and good, and performing to about a billion people is quite an achievement, but Lyn prefers gigs like gus’ monthly do. I now completely agree with her: they are small, intimate occasions; the same people come every month, so they get to know each other. I think it is fabulous, and now cannot wait till next month’s Gus gig.

I spoke to my parents yesterday. They are in paris revelling in being grandparents; it’s awesome to see them so happy. We’ll see then quite soon, all being well, but for now I just want to wish Mum the grandest of (grand)mother’s days. She is a great mum, having to be very patient to put up with me (just ask Lyn!), and I love her to bits. Have a great day, mum, and don’t spoil Oliver too much.

My reservations concerning marriage as an institution in general aside, I just want to congratulate all same sex couples tying the knot today. Legalising gay marriage is probably one of the things I think this government has done right. Mind you, the cynic in me says it’s just a scheme to make gay relationships controllable by the state, bringing it into line with heterosexual marriage. Whether it is or is not, though, this is surely a happy event, a blow to homophobia, and, above all, a great excuse for a knees-up.

You sometimes have to wait a while, but I love how, every now and again, the city throws something awesome at you. It’s like the place is a cauldron of opportunity, one event leading to another then another. Look at the Olympics for example: only in a space such as London could one see the queen jump out of a helicopter with 007, and the woman you love play before the world. That was two years ago, of course, but London continues to throw opportunities towards those who will seize them, a place where everything has been proven possible and therefore where anything can happen.

Today, I had a meeting at the university of East London about the possibility of me volunteering at the rix centre, where they make all kinds of media for people with disabilities. It was arranged by the lady I work with at school, and I am enormously grateful to her: I have a feeling this might lead to somewhere special: the campus is awesome, and I can’t wait to start the ball rolling there.

Between my work with school, gad, Luke and now this it seems I have busy days ahead. I am very excited indeed. I think the city is awesome for making my life so vibrant, and I thank the woman who introduced this life to me, Lyn, with all my heart. Who knows where London will take me, or rather us, next.

The school at which I volunteer, Charlton Park Academy, yesterday participated in the BBC School Report project. I went in to help. To be honest I didn’t contribute that much other than to suggest a question, but it was great to see the film being made then edited. The result, which I think makes a very good point about the lack of signing on TV, can be seen here.

You can probably predict what I’m going to writ here today. Amid much abuse and obscenity, I’d usually describe last night’s debate between Clegg and farage as a clear win for Clegg. It was, of course: clegg countered Farage’s opinion and dogma with evidenced, thoughtful argument. Yet we know that someone somewhere will just as passionately be writing the exact opposite, calling it a win for Farage. This is something we need to be adult and objective about, and I am no longer sure I am. Is it fair, for instance, for me to continue to write that UKIP’s views are rooted in xenophobia: part of me is sure they are, but am I being dogmatic and childish. Is leaving a specific political institution the same as shunning the other members of that institution? Of course not. Is worrying about immigration being xenophobic? Perhaps not, although I’m still sure they are related.

It’s a tough one: part of me says clegg clearly won, but another part suspects I’m being dogmatic. The best thing to do is read what other people are saying, and wait for next week’s second debate before giving my final verdict.

I did not think it was so soon, but I just saw on the news that tonight is the night of the debate between Nick Clegg and Nigel Farage. Of course, I can’t say I particularly like Clegg right now, given he is helping to maintain an oppressive, vindictive, unelected government, but I despise Farage even more. He and his xenophobic, bigoted party would isolate this country, cutting us off from Europe and in turn the wider world. UKIP would destroy this country but don’t even have the intelligence to realise it. They speculate hazily that freeing the UK from the EU would free us to trade more with Asia and America, but fail to realise the obvious fact that Europe is the bigger market, so Asia and America would ignore us and trade only with Europe. Thus I’d like to wish Mr. Clegg luck, and hope he puts that irrelevant idiot farage in his place; all sane, intelligent arguments being on his side, it should not be too difficult. No doubt I’ll be giving my verdict on the affair tomorrow.

[img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/cp awareness day.jpg[/img]

Today is apparently cerebral palsy awareness day; I can indeed confirm that I am indeed aware of cerebral palsy.

Last nigh I think I ate one of the best meals of my life: it could certainly go on my list of great meals, not just because it was particularly good – although it was a damn good pizza – but the chain of events which had brought as up to that point were remarkable. Mind you, not all of them were positive.

On saturday charlotte came to visit. I had been like a child on Christmas eve all day, waiting for her to arrive. I had not seen C in ages, and was expecting a cool evening ahead. Our initial plan of going clubbing up in London had had to be abandoned as our PA paul couldn’t stay late. That did not matter, though, as there are plenty of places to have fun around here. At ten, Paul would leave us with C, and she would make sure we got home.

And have fun we did: I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of Charlie doing Kareoke in the Royal Oak, where hearing her sing one or two of my old favourites made me feel very happy and nostalgic. Then it was back up the hill, the four of us singing all the way, to the White Swan. At that point, Paul left us, and we thanked him for a great day. That was the point at which the barman, obviously taking a shine to charlie, began to give us free shots of tequila.

The next thing I’m aware of is waking up, the sun starting to shine through our bedroom curtains. Lyn had just got up for a minute or so, as she often does. It being early, I rolled over in need of a couple of more hours sleep. I was just nodding back off, when…

SMASH!

I bounced up: Lyn had toppled sideways onto her beside light; blood streaming from her eye. I panicked, and thanked providence with all my being that C had stayed the night. I ran into my office, where my old university friend was sleeping on the airbed I bought earlier last week, and woke her.

To cut a long story short, a few hours later saw us coming home from the hospital; Lyn’s wound, scarily close to her eye, having been stitched up. We had been bloody lucky: a millimetre up and Lyn would have lost her left eye. We were brought home by ambulance, surprisingly upbeat. Mitchel was here by then, as was Charlie, who had gone ahead in a taxi. We then spent a quiet afternoon here, resting after our ordeal.

But the weekend wasn’t over yet. Last night saw us out again, L’s eye patched up. We had booked a table in a nearby pub, where We’d meet Hugh, Jodie, Poppy and a couple of C’s friends. To be honest I was expecting Lyn to opt to stay home – and who would have blamed her – but she is a trooper. In the event, though, it turned out that the pub I had selected had stopped serving food. I suppose it was a bit of a fail on my part, but it was easily remedied: a short walk later saw us at Zero Degrees, a microbrewery and pizzeria in blackheath, where I had a truly delicious Peking Duck pizza and, forgetting my promise to stay on cola, a single, excellent beer. Despite the ordeal of a Sunday morning trip to A and E, it was the perfect end to an incredible weekend: a smashing weekend which I doubt I, lyn, or indeed Charlotte, will soon forget, Although I felt bad about Lyn’s accident, I couldn’t help reflecting to myself what a bloody lucky fellow I am.

Bugger off, you bourgeois bastards!

Taxing bingo, bedrooms and beer

Hurting the humble, punishing the poor So that all we know now is fear.

We have had enough cuts, Etonian entrails

We’ve paid enough for crimes we didn’t commit

It’s time you went, you Tory Tossers; You’ve hurt us enough, caused enough shit So get out, CaMoron you cunt!

Take that obscenity Osbourne with you too

Oh how I want to punch that prick Hunt!

Go now! It’s over, you’re through!

Roll on the next general election

Until you go I’ll scream and shout

I still doubt your first selection,

But now I just want you pricks out.

It’s all very well having the ability to blog on the move, but the problem was yesterday I did not have time to. It was another of those mad, hectic days when I was out practically all day, apart from two hours in the afternoon when I had to wait home for the wheelchair repair guy (and when he got here, my chair turned out to be fine anyway). In the morning I had school, then it was over to Greenwich – via the park, which looks beautiful this time of year – to check in at GAD; then, towards the evening, off to a small, rather hard to find pub in Woolwich for a couple f beers with Luke and Sally; then it was home, dinner, a bit of t.v, then bed. What a day!

Today promises to be equally action-packed, and as for tomorrow…well, tomorrow I’m really looking forward to, but I’ll tell you all about that in due course.

Life is good.

I am currently typing this sitting on the sofa using my new iPad two. Lyn gave it to me yesterday for my birthday, and I must say I am bowled away with it. It truly is an impressive machine, and a very kind gift from Lyn. I realise using iPads as comunication aids is controversial to some, but it is so much more too. As well as talk, this allows me to keep in touch with home when I’m out and about, as well as check my email and even blog. Indeed, I can use its cameras to make films, which is why Lyn got it for me in part.

A great gift, and a great birthday. I am a very lucky man to live such an awesome life, and to have such a kind girlfriend. Here’s to many more blog entries using my new iPad, recording many more great times.

I just came across this rather alarming, yet well argued and well researched, article in which Owen Jones is being taken over by the political right. Contrary to popular myth, the beeb does not have a liberal, left-wing bias; it just seems that way to conservatives who would prefer it to pedal their oppressive, distorted, narrow-minded version of reality. Indeed, Jones illustrates how the bbc is in fact riddled with tories: ”A study by Cardiff University academics found that while there is always a bias towards political incumbents, the ratio in favour of Conservative politicians appearing on BBC news is far greater than it was in favour of Labour figures when Gordon Brown was prime minister.” This is very worrying indeed. Surely it is time to take back the bbc, or at least redress the balance, before it becomes yet another tory mouthpiece. After all, it is paid for by the people; part of me even wonders why it should treat this unelected government as legitimate in the first place, but I suppose it has to. If only it sided with the people.

I heard this morning George Osbourne say that he feels proud of his actions, and I instantly felt sick. What the hell has that insensitive, moronic worm got to be proud of? Day after day I see evidence of the suffering he and his party has caused. He says he is proud to have helped people by taking them out of tax: in other words, at a time when those who rely on benefits are literally starving, when so-called ‘work capability assessments’ are driving people to suicide, he is encouraging geed and patting himself on the back for it. Does he feel no guilt over ransacking the welfare state, ruining people’s lives, just so he ad his rich pals can have a tax cut? What the hell is this insult to humanity doing in government, let alone allowed on national television making himself out to be some kind of hero? I’m sorry, but my sense of injustice now goes beyond words, as does my hatred for this loathsome worm and the shits who support him.

‘So, farewell, Tony Benn’, as no doubt Private Eye will soon intone. The country has lost the last great socialist. Although I disagreed with him over Europe – and I see cooperation with our european neighbours as an innate part of a left-wing stance – I agree with much of what Benn had to say. Power should indeed lie with the people, the workers, and not the bankers who get rich from the graft of others. The Tories, of course, are making a big thing o claiming to be ‘for hard-working people’, but by hard-working people they mean selfish, greedy sneak-thieves who loathe paying tax and contributing to society. Thus for CaMoron to come on t.v earlier today and praise Benn is nothing but crass hypocrisy.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. I was watching an interview, a couple of days ago, with the guy who designed the 3d-printable gun. I found myself both completely agreeing with him and disagreeing with him at the same time. I, like him, want people to be free: we are all equal, and thus have the right to do as we please. We should all be sceptical f big, domineering governments which can so easily become oppressive. However, at the same time we need big governments to ensure equality through a fair education system, a civilised healthcare system and a welfare state. Without such mechanisms, the few dominate the many, the strong dominate the weak. Pure freedom becomes freedom for some.

I’ve been fretting over the paradox since then. Is big government bad or good? How do we ensure equality and happiness for all? Is socialism really the answer, or is it really a form of oppression? Truth be told, I no longer think I’m sure.

It has been a great day. This morning, as usual for a thursday, I went to the local special school. I help in a group of boys with quite severe autism who use communication aids. We had an awesome session today – the lads were really receptive, and seem to be making progress. I came hope happy, and, perhaps as a result, decided to pop over to Greenwich to check up on GAD. I had not been there in ages since their social group and school clash.Truth be told, I didn’t have much input in their social group, but after the session, the group leader Alan came up to me. They have a new website, and he asked if I wanted to contribute articles. Of course I did – now my formal education is over, I need things like this to keep active; plus the chances are if I become more involved, It will lead to other things. I jumped at the chance. Alan asked for something concerning the closure of the ILF, which is right up my street; I thrashed out a first draft as soon as I got home, and I’m now waiting for my new editor to get back to me.

A great day all round, then. And the sun is even out.

To mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of the creation of the world-wide-web, I should probably say something profound. I could write about the net’s social and cultural impact, as well as it’s impact on art, language and media; I could write prosaically about how it changed the world. I should probably praise it for being the means through which I met Lyn; it is also, of course, through the web that I keep in touch with my friends and family. But w all know that isn’t what the internet is really for: to find that out, you have to go here!

Although it has very little to do with anything I usually blog abut, I just want to flag this quite amazing story up. It concerns a young man from Sierra Leonne who effectively rescued himself from poverty through his own creativeness. He was building things like radios from scrap and had set himself as a DJ when a guy from MIT discovered him and took him to the states. It’s a great little story that will probably interest a few people I know, lyn, dad and uncle aki included, but it’s also pretty inspiring generally.

You may be expecting me to post my review of the Paralympic opening ceremony on here sometime soon. I did intend to write one today. Of course, I didn’t manage to watch the ceremony on friday or over the weekend, so this morning I got up, checked my email and popped it on. I know this will sound pathetic coming from a guy interested in such things, and I know I should pay attention given this is a disability-related matter, but I got up to the entry of the teams and sopped watching. There was some impressive choreography, and an incredible piece of animation made from watercolour frames, all hand painted, but nothing particularly compelled me to keep watching. I might resume tomorrow, as part of me is itching to see if the Russians have created heir own Paraorchestra, but so far there isn’t much I can say abut the affair.

It has been a heck of a weekend. Lyn and I are currently on the train coming back from Rochester, the Kentish countryside zooming past. Yesterday we attended Radio Caroline’s fiftieth birthday party at the Corn Exchange. I have never seen lyn as excited as she was on the way down yesterday morning: Caroline is something more than a radio station to its listeners: forgive the cliche, but it’s something akin to a self-selecting family made up of all kinds of unusual, awesome people. We met some of them yesterday.

The event itself was essentially a series of talks and debates from the main players in Caroline’s history. It got quite technical at times, especially when it came to things like the ‘marine offences act’. But what became clear is Caroline’s importance in social history: one could argue that the democratization of the media we are currently seeing with things like blogs and YouTube began with pirate radio. In fact I managed to put that very point to one or two of the DJs, including Bob Lawrence, lyn’s favourite. Above all Caroline’s independence was emphasised, as well as its devotion to radio as an art.

After the debates we had a break for dinner, then there were two live music bands. The second of these was a Beatles tribute, and quite a poor one, so we didn’t stay too late. It had been a fantastic day, but a long one. We stayed the night in a local hotel, which although comfortable served poor breakfast, and headed home.

I just got back from our weekly trip to Asda with Marta. We nearly always do our big weekly shop on a friday, but unusually Lyn stayed home today, having work to do. She had been asked by our friend Gemma to write something of her early life, and took the opportunity to get it written before the hectic weekend ahead of us. She just asked me to proof-read it before she sent it to Gemma. As soon as I started reading, a shiver went down my spine: I won’t go into detail, but it was a hellish description of life in the old institutions. My bottom lip shot out, and I gave Lyn a hug.

Things have changed, thank smeg. The person they once forced to polish stones in silence, hour after hour, has become a truly remarkable woman. Lyn is one of the strongest, kindest, funniest people I’ll ever know. The silence as broken forever by Lyn’s music, glorious and resonant; proof of the folly of the old ways. May everyone hear it loud and clear! Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lyn just put Radio Caroline on – Time to rock!

We were talking earlier with some Polish friends of ours: they know a guy who, one day, had a cop knock at his door. The policeman looked at him quizzically: ”Are you stoned?” he asked, not realising that, in Polish, ”stoned” means ”from here”.

”No,” replied the guy, ‘I’m from Poland”. Oh, the complexities of life in modern London.

A glorious spring evening, here in the city’s south

The street lights are lighting, but the skies are clear.

An early evening walk, to get outta the house Thence a south London pub for a south London beer.

Who would have said my life would be this great?

Those nurses in the hospital my parents describe?

If only I could tell them about my present state

How glorious my life, how wonderful to be alive.

In an interesting development of my entry yesterday, I just came across this story in the huffington post. It reports how a Russia today anchor spoke out against what was going on, saying that she didn’t agree with what was happening in the crimea. At face value, of course, that is to be applauded: it would seem that contrary views are permitted on the Russian media after al. As the article itself asks, did we see anything similar from the American media during the Iraq war? And yet, given the amount of criticism RT has been getting for it’s pro-Putin bias, one must wonder whether this is just a bluff: Putin wants his press to seem free, so he stages this show of angst. If that is the case, though, Putin has allowed this woman to say things which contradict his own narrative, a very cunning, devious move. Would he go so far as to semi-admit the west’s version of events in order to give his media mouthpiece the veneer of credibility? I think so, as in the long run Putin knows that RT is one of his most powerful weapons. That implies, however, that despite what he says in his own statements, the west’s version of events it indeed valid, and he knows what he is saying is untrue. Would he be that deceitful? If that is the case, it is clear that we are dealing here with a master of subterfuge and puppetry.

I am currently glued to the tv, even more than usual. The situation in Crimea seems to be becoming more and more tense by the hour; the prospect that we could be waking up to news that a third world war has broken out does not seem all that fanciful. I just tweeted that we should all go shopping to stock up just in case, but perhaps I was being slightly melodramatic.

I usually watch bbc news, of course, but I just had a cool idea. I just flipped over to Russian news (RT, channel 512 on our system) wanting to see the other side of the story. While I know every news source will have a bias, including the beeb, there is a staggering amount of bull being spouted here. To hear them speak, they seem to want the world to believe that Russia is acting entirely justly, liberating the Russian-speaking people of crimea from an illegitimate neo-nazi Ukranian government. Indeed, to them, the west is being hypocritical, even agressive, in siding with Kiev, and John Kerry was entirely unfair ian his criticism.

I was angry at first, but it is rather fascinating. Their claims might be true, and the bbc, CNN et al might be the liars; given we have no objectiv source of information, we have no way of being sure. Yet russia has a need to present the situation as it sees it, and what is being said here is being said so forcefully and one sidedly that it must be propaganda. To see this happening before my eyes, to be able to see state propaganda functioning and to compre this with what is being said on the bbc and CNN, is intriguing. We must treat every report with caution, pering away the layers of bias, whatever the news channel, to get to the reality beneath.

In between keeping a close eye on events in the Crimea, where the situation seems to be getting more serious by the hour, I’ve been keeping my usual eye on facebook. I just came across a reference to a song, Window licker by Aphex twin; call me oversensitive, but as soon as I saw that title, I felt the first pangs of offence. It is, after all, no longer acceptable to name songs with terms of abuse for any other minority. I looked it up on youtube, of course, hoping I might find some witty provocative piece of disability art, but no such luck. It is just another piece of music: it has no lyrics, and the video just involves women dancing in bikinis. I don’t see how the title is at all appropriate. The immature jackasses in Aphex Twin just thought it was cool to use a playground term of abuse, so I’m now considering calling my next film Talentless little berks who make crap music.

A couple of days ago I was out and about. I was crossing Blackheath when I came across this sign, in the wall between the heath and Greenwich park. It intrigued me: the plaque commemorated the Cornish rebellion of 1497 and the battle of blackheath, events which I had never even heard of. I just looked it up (insofar as you can call consulting Wikipedia looking something up): apparently it was a rebellion against high taxes. The poorly armed and poorly disciplined Cornish got as far as Blackheath before being encircled and crushed by henry vii. I find that incredible: it’s just down the road from here so I’ll probably look into this more; I might even go do some archaeological excavations of my own.