March’s Gus gig

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.

Happy mother’s day

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.

Congrats to everyone tying the knot today

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.

A couldron of opportunity

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.

BBC school report

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.

A clear win for Clegg

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.

Good luck mr. clegg

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.

Happy cp awareness day

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

A truly smashing weekend

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…


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.

Post budget poetry

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.