I have just been watching the tory party conference screaming at the tv. How dare that collection of insults to humanity laugh when they are causing so much pain? how dare thy pat themselves on the back when their policies have driven so many to suicide? how dare they pretend they are acting altruistically when by lowering tax they have caused people to starve. How dare they be so arrogant to think that wealth just trickles down, when anyone with just a shred of humanity sees that such policies feed only the wealthy few? how dare they laugh at labour,who actually care about other people, when each and every one of those vermin is guilty of such greed selfishness and arrogance? That which Ahab had against the whale is now nothing compared to what I now have against this collection of liars and cheats and idiots. Day after day I see reports of the suffering they alone have caused. All hyperbole aside I truly hold what the tories are doing, in directly attacking the poorest groups in society, to be criminal, and I want this group of selfish, arrogant arseholes broken up.

Last night saw us at another outstanding Gus Glen gig at the Thai restaurant around the corner. I have rather fallen in love with those nights: they are fun, intimate little evenings with just Gus and his guitar (and ukelele) doing some of the classics. And of course he calls guests up too, including Lyn, who did a wonderful set last night. It’s only a small place – there could not have been more than fifteen people there last night – so everyone feels involved.

Indeed the highlight of my evening came at the very end, when Gus called Lyn up again to jam with him on Sweet Home Alabama. He knows I like that song, but I did not request it last night as I think it has started to annoy him. However, they played it just for me. I was thrilled! When it started, I suddenly felt the urge to do a Steve and join in. I got up, grabbed the spare microphone and started to sing along. What everyone thought about it I know not – fortunately there were very few people there at that point – but I felt awesome. It brought back so many memories.

After that it was time to go home. I’d had a great evening, and I think Lyn had fun too. Mind you, I got slightly told off when I put Sweet Home Alabama on again after we got in.

I am watching the news and I feel nothing. I am typing this sat on the sofa while watching the bbc news channel. They are of course discussing the new military action in Iraq, debating the complex politics and history of the situation, and I feel nothing. I don’t feel angry or upset, just blank. I have seen this before, and frankly no longer give a damn, either about the intricacies of it all, CaMoron’s motives, the possible outcomes, or anything. The situation might be dangerous, but I know my daily life won’t change: I’ll still get up in the morning, eat breakfast and zoom around London in my chair; Lyn will continue to compose; the sun will continue to rise. So let them have another war! Let them fight! Let them send more young men to die! It’s only one more in a string of such folly; a list which will be added to after this one, whether I listen or not, whether I object or not, whether I care or not. One folly leads to another then another. I will just carry on with my life, watching the news but feeling nothing.

Someone, who shall remain unnamed, last night posted this video link to my facebook page with the comment ”ooh I wonder if this could have a breathalyser function lol”. While a wheelchair-mounted system which tracks one’s position and other vital statistics may be a very good idea for some vulnerable people, I am at a loss to see how that comment applies to me…ahem!

I suppose I should be used to such patheticness by now, but it still comes as a shock. On Monday i read that Michael palin, one of my all time favourite people, is due to do a stage presentation of the latest volume of his diaries, Travelling To Work, in Shaftesbury avenue in October . At first i was uncertain whether or not to try to get tickets, but this morning I decided to throw caution to the wind. After all I have loved palin since I was little, and this show will apparently focus on the era surrounding Palin’s travel shows, the very thing which made me aware of him.

So off i se this morning. I know I could have tried to order online, but I kept just being directed to third party ticket websites. Besides, going up there meant I could make sure we got the two wheelchair spaces and two PA spaces we need.

Getting there was easy, as usual: the performance is at the palace theatre, just up the road from Westminster. I got the bus, and beat my way through the crowds, growling at Danny Alexander as I passed him. I rolled up to the box office and asked for two wheelchair spaces and two carer spaces for Michael Palin. I expected the least they could do was tell me that they were sold out – after all, it was rather close to the performance. But the reply I got was far more pathetic: the wheelchair spaces were taken, not by other wheelchair users, but by the sound desk. The sound desk! Have you ever heard anything so abysmal, so discriminatory.

I was about to complain, but bit my tongue, turned, and headed back. They promised to email me should the situation change, but I have to say I was pretty upset. I told myself to look on the bright side – we saw Monty Python Live two months ago, which should be enough. I had bought tickets for that almost a year in advance, so I could not be too miffed; things could not all go my way. Yet the excuse I was given just seemed so careless, so pathetic. It just seems unfair, especially given how much I would have loved to see Michael Palin in person.

UPDATE At about 4.30 today I received an email saying the situation had been resolved and my tickets had been reserved. hurrah! any criticism on m part is withdrawn.

Stealing a kiss, overlooking the city Before me is a great beauty.

Deep and subtle. Vast and wonderful.

It is a complex beauty that I behold atop Greenwich hill

Not obvious, but there to see.

Emphatically there! I see it clearly

As I steal a kiss overlooking the city.

I am having one of my squealy days today. Squealy days happen when I discover something I am particularly thrilled about, causing me, from time to time, to suddenly yelp spastically with glee. They are often after hearing rumours. I had one when I first heard that James bond would be somehow used in the Olympic opening ceremony; another when I got wind of Monty Python’s stage reunification. Both times, I was not sure whether the reports were any more than baseless rumours, so I knew I had to be cautious. Yet it was the prospect, the possibility, that thrilled me. And of course, they both turnedout to be true, and they both ended up being wonderful.

I’m having another day like that. Earlier, I came across another rumour, and for a trekkie like myself it is a pretty big one. Word has it that William Shatner is in talks to reprise his role as Kirk after twenty years. That is, for me, a thrilling prospect; I love the original Trek films, up to the ninth, and feel like something has been missing in my life since they stopped making them. After they ‘rebooted’ the franchise in 2007, it has not been the same. Moreover, given that most fans hated kirk’s rather unfitting death in generations, and we also hate the new timeline mess caused by the reboot, this could be an opportunity to resolve both in one. They could have shatner’s kirk restore the original timeline by sacrificing himself in a huge blaze of glory, giving him a more grandiose, more fitting end. that would seem the logical thing to do. I just hope they handle it properly.

I know I have to be cautious. It might fall through; the rumour might dissolve into thin air; it might turn out to be another poorly-written mess. After all, they have to come up with a believable way of bringing him back from the dead. Yet I currently have a personal maxim: if 007 can jump out of a helicopter with the queen, then surely anything can happen. Nothing can be ruled out; all things are possible. While I realise Happy and Glorious did not please everyone, it nevertheless redefined the limits of what is thinkable – it had the queen jumping out of a helicopter with 007, for zark’s sake! I once came across Bond ‘fans’ criticising it seemingly for the sake of being critical, but at the end of the day it was the ultimate confirmation of the epic status of 007 in our society: it was sleek, cool, and very, very Bondish. In my opinion it was a wonderful tribute to the Bond franchise and a wonderful success; and if one can succeed so can the other. Thus, for Shatner to sit in the captain’s chair as Kirk again is therefore certainly possible, and to see it happen, if done reasonably well, would please me and so many others, for it would feel like a return to something of our childhood, something lost for a long time, something good.

I’m not sure how it crept under my radar, but the film advertised here looks as if it might deserve closer inspection. This ‘refreshing look at disability and sexuality’ professes to detail the adventures of a girl with cerebral palsy going to university. From the looks of it, it might be reasonably well done, and I’d be interested to see how it compares with my own adventures from uni. Although the blurb on the website is typically vomit worthy (we ‘suffer’ with cp, etc) this may at last be the type of realistic disability-related drama I have been waiting for. I might add, too, that the title chimes with me, and in itself gives me cause for optimism: ”Margarita with a Straw” – awesome! Time, then, to find out how or where I can watch it.

It is not just the big events that I adore the city for. Yesterday was an hectic, awesome day: in the late morning my parents visited, and it was great to have a chat over coffee. It was lovely to see them, getting news of the family including my wonderful new nephew. Then later, my old friend charlotte came to visit, and, with her sister poppy and friend Emma (not the one from university), we met up at the Bermondsey Street Festival. To be honest I did not know what to expect as I took the tube up there, having said goodbye to my parents at the station, but it turned out to be pretty incredible: I love how London almost constantly throws up such cool little parties (although ‘little’ here is a relative term). There was all sorts going on, including lots and lots of music. Charlotte, Emma, poppy and I spent the afternoon dancing away, chatting a bit, and talking. It was just like old times; they even played a few sons we used to dance to at brandies, like Walk this Way. I wished I had brought Lyn with me, and we collectively vowed that, now we know what a cool gig it is, next year we’ll go early and I’ll bring L.

We did not stay too long, as C, as usual, had another party to go to. I wanted to get back a decent time too. Yet I was thrilled to have gone, and boogied with my old friends on the streets of Bermondsey. It was great to see them, have a chat and gossip, and it ended too soon. I’m now really looking forward to next year’s festival with any luck, maybe we could arrange for Lyn to do a set!

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Last night at about two I was woken by a sharp storm. I have rarely heard it rain so hard; I began to worry that the roof would leak. It struck me as rather an apt omen for stormy things to come. This morning, however, I turned on my computer to see that Scotland had voted No, and that the union would stay together. I should probably be happy: after all I oppose the whole idea of borders and nations, and have expressed my opposition to nationalism of all kinds on here before. Yet part of me regrets the decision the Scots made: the status quo will now remain in place, and Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling have ironically helped CaMoron keep his job. Thus I see advantages and disadvantages. In fact I feel quite torn over the entire affair, especially now English nationalists like Farage have started to use the outcome to their advantage. The only thing I can do, however, is sit back and watch how things now unfold. The sky may have cleared, and the voting may be over, yet I suspect even bigger storms may now have started to brew.

Today should be interesting – all eyes point north. It occurred to me late yesterday afternoon that my attitude towards the Scottish Referendum had been somewhat askew: I still support a no vote as I favour unity, and still think having a Scottish influence in the UK helps us all. Yet a yes vote has it’s definite advantages, as it will stir up the status quo sending shockwaves through the establishment. People will demand more control over the regions. One thing is certain: a Yes vote means CaMoron will have to go. Win! Thus either way things stand to become very interesting indeed. Time, then, to turn on the news, perhaps get a few beers in for later, and wait for the results.

I’m in two minds about this. NASA has announced it’s intention to resume manned spaceflght. That is surely something to be welcomed, and presumably it will be designing a replacement for the shuttle somewhere down the line. What I’m not so sure about is it’ intention to use private firms to help it do so. Of course, talent and expertise can crop up in any sector, but everyone knows that private industry cuts corners for profit, and the idea that competition leads to excellence is a myth. So while this is promising news from NASA, I just hope their new space ships aren’t going to be laden with McDonald’s logos, and turn out to be as flimsy as their burgers.

I went up to stratford this afternoon, wanting to take my mind off politics for a while and wanting too to start buying gifts for certain upcoming midwinter festivals. It was a spur of the moment decision. Stratford strikes me as an amazing place: not so very long ago it was a building site, but it is now a maelstrom of modern shops, a beautiful park, rivers, and of course the olympic stadium and associated venues. Yet it is also a place I associate with amazing things: just a few weeks ago, Lyn played a set there; and before that it was the site of the awesomeness of the olympics and paralympics, where 007 met the queen, and where the paraorchestra played, and where so much incredible stuff happened. Moreover, to get there, I have to pass the o2 arena, where just a few weeks ago we saw Python play, something so special to me that I can’t put into words how lucky I feel to have been there.

It occurs to me that these two amazing places are now semi-sacred for me. In a way they have taken on a form of secular hallowdness: they are places in which events took place which are so special, so unique that I count them as highlights of my life. I’ll thus probably always relish going back to both. Reflecting on this, though, I wondered if there are other places like that for me – maybe the old campus at Alsager could be one. Does everyone have places of such intense, happy memories I wonder.

I know I said a couple of entries ago that I thought it best to stay clear of the debate in Scotland, but I find myself becoming more and more agitated by it. The ‘Yes’ campaign is, if I’m honest, really starting to piss me off. I better just come out with it: for all their talk of fairness and equality, I have never seen a more oppressive, selfish group. They claim to be of the left, but the last time I checked, leftism was about unity and caring for all: they just propose to build their own state, leaving the rest of us to suffer. That’s not socialism but fascism. But when you put this obvious truth to any of them, they act all offended and deny their campaign has anything to do with nationalism. Bull; Salmond et al are motivated by the same nationalistic forces as Farage. If that wasn’t the case, if they truly cared about fairness and equality for all, they’d be working to change the government at westminster. The problems faced in scotland are problems faced here too. Thus this has nothing to do with creating a fairer society: what is fair about dividing a country? What is fair about abandoning the british to the tories – for that is what they are doing. What is fair or democratic about imposing your will on others? About only caring about the scots? And, to add insult to injury, Salmond cries foul when the bbc point out his shortcomings. He accuses CaMoron of paying businesses to support better together, as if they aren’t allowed their own opinions. One of their supporters had the cheek to invoke Mandella, as if the british were oppressing them, as if they were fighting for freedom and not division. I find such conduct unfair and inappropriate, even hurtful, but if you put any of this to any of them, you are made to feel like you’re the oppressive nationalist, supporting the tory stance. I don’t want to force views on anyone or make anyone do anything they didn’t want to; I just want to remain one unified, democratic people. Salmond just wants to divide us, building his own state for the scottish people while leaving the rest of us to rot. The disingenuousness of this megalomaniac sickens me.

It’s obvious what I’m supposed to write on here today. I’m supposed to utterly condemn the murder of David Haines, and write about barbaric those who murdered him are. That would be the topic any blogger would be expected to choose on a day like this. Yet – an this is pure speculation – that obviousness makes me reflect on how convenient such a news story is for a prime minister in dire straights. CaMoron is on the ropes, down in the polls; on thursday he faces the prospect of presiding over the break-up of the union. How convenient that he can now stand in Downing Street looking Prime Ministerial and leaderly, and point towards a ‘brutal enemy’ capable of utter savagery, who threaten us blah blah blah. Pure speculation I know, and the two events are probably totally unlinked; yet the timing must raise my cynical eyebrow. After all, such a crisis serves the Tories, currently so troubled, perfectly. Is the dog being wagged?

Just a note to say that I have decided not to comment on the Scottish refetrendum for now. It’s not as though I don’t feel strongly about it, because I do. The problem is I am utterly conflicted: part of me wants the union to stay together, and thinks that it would be an act of abandonment if scos voted yes. We English would be left to the Tories. Yet I also know that Scotland has a right to govern itself and we have no authority to expect it to live under governments it did not elect. I am therefore torn completely in two over the issue, and so i better stay out of it, while still waiting for next weeks result with baited breath.

Slowly through the city streets,

Where every light seems red

Homeward my taxi creeps

To the warm embrace of bed.

Night draws in on a long, long day

One active and fun

But I just want to hit the hay

And set with the sun.

So drive me home my good man

Slowly through the streets

To where this morning my day began

There to return to my sleep.

It is the time of year when I wish my good old friend Charlotte a happy birthday. This month, of course, marks ten years since we met: it is now coming up to a full decade since I started at mmu. I can’t remember precisely when I first got talking to C, as we were in the same large social group. It was probably in the Wes, or at brandies; but it was the beginning of a great friendship with so many great memories, which I hope will last a lifetime. I might not see her much these days, and indeed feel guilty about missing her forthcoming birthday party (long story) but wherever charlie is right now, I’m sure she is having fun. Have a good one, C, and see you soon!

Lyn and I just watched – if you’ll forgive the pun – Apple launch it’s latest innovation. I must admit I am becoming a real apple groupie, although not as much of one as Lyn. The things they produce seem to couple function with style which just seems so likeable, but maybe I have just fallen for their somewhat nausiating sales patter. However, I am in two minds about the new Apple watch, launched this evening: of course it looks great, and I was very impressed by its apparent range of uses. Yet I suspect this is probably ona apple device Lyn and I won’t be investing in – it’s just too fiddly for either of us to use. Nevertheless, as I type this blog entry on my iPad, I can’t help wondering how long it will be before we start to see Apple watches on virtually everyon’s wrists.

I think I need to flag this up today, an excellent article by someone who seemingly pays much more attention to disability news than I do. We in the disability community are uniting as never before. The article for the Guardian details how ‘we’ (and in the current cuts-based climate, there is an ‘us‘ more than ever) are drawing together to fight what the article explains is an overtly unfair form of oppression. Disabled people are bearing the brunt of unfair cuts: perhaps IDS is picking on us because we are meek, mild cripples who can’t or won’t fight back. If so, he is gravely mistaken. Social media is the current battleground, but my hunch – and hope – is that it will expand as this bullying of people with disabilities gains more attention. The battle lines have been drawn, then; I hope these unelected gits are preparing themselves for the onslaught they are now due.

Lyn and I are sat out in our garden. It is early evening, and Paul has just poured us a pair of drinks. The air is still and warm, and apart from the tap tap of Paul’s knife on the chopping board as he prepares dinner in the kitchen, it is almost silent. In her flowery blouse and red trousers, Lyn looks beautiful, as she taps at her iPad. This is a moment of serenity, of that rare type of calm in which you realise how wonderful life is, and how lucky you are to be here, now, in this moment. All woe and worries seem gone; the only thing that matters is here, now, in this garden, and that thing is called love.

Anyone foolish enough to doubt the tories aren’t the arrogant bunch of pricks any thinking person knows them to be should just go here. One of those unelected p’tahks, Gutto Bebb, apparently ‘advised’ a man with autism to ‘refrain from commenting in the public domain’ due to his mental health issues. It’s frankly galling enough to be forced to see that arsewipe CaMoron lining up beside legitimate world leaders as if he deserves to be among them, but for the tories to be so patronising, for them to try to dictate who can and cannot comment, infuriates me beyond words. This is akin to someone telling me I should not blog because I have cp. True, autism and cp are very different phenomena, but the allusion holds, for the same arrogant lack of understanding inherent in Bebb’s statement, the same assumption he makes about another person’s capacity to comment on the grounds of his disability, is something I too face almost daily. As Mary Wimbury, Labour’s general election candidate for Aberconwy, where these exchanges took place, said ”This lack of courtesy and respect towards constituents is clearly an inappropriate way for any MP to behave – he should think long and hard about his future behaviour.” Yet to make matters worse, Bebb has the gall to claim to have been insulted: ”I do have a close family history of mental health issues and find the idea that I would be derogatory of such an illness highly offensive”, and that he was only offering some helpful advice. Well, I have some advice for him: apologise and resign.

This is why I keep my Ipad belted to my lap when I’m out and about. A lady in Seattle had her tablet ripped from her by some thug when she and her husband were out in a mall. Fortunately, the incident was caught on camera. I really hope they get the git who did it – it really gets to me how callous some people can be, although ultimately I suppose you have to feel sorry for them. Yet, as the victim says, ” if they’ll target me, they’ll target anyone.” Having been through two house break-ins over my life, I have to agree.

At the risk of repeating myself, London did it again last night, astonishing me with it’s coolness (and indeed it was cold enough for jumpers). We went to see Katherine Arniello’s ‘Dinner Party Revisited’ at the southbank: I must confess I did not know what to expect, Lyn having proposed and organised the trip, so I did not quite know whether we were going to a piece of dance, theatre, or what. Although we got there rather late, having had to come back once for my bag, as soon as we entered the space, however, I was instantly taken with what I found. Mind you, it is quite difficult to describe: Araniello is a wheelchair user with quite a severe disability; she was doing a one person show, with help from a PA serving the drinks. It was based at a dinner party, with the guests, played by Araniello, all appearing on screens at the back of shot. It was all being filmed live somewhere else – i’m not sure where – and shown in the purcell room. It struck me as quite innovative, slightly weird, and very funny. It was, I suppose, a truly postmodern piece, very ad-hoc, very made-up-as-they-went. However, not having seen the performance from the beginning, and not having been able to make out all of what was being said, I am unable to review it fully, so I think I’ll now see what Google turns up on it.

The performance ended at about nine, but our night was far from over: the city had another treat in store! Dominik proposed going to see Jamie MacDowell and Tom Thum, a beatboxer and guitar player, an Australian duo performing nearby, Again, I didn’t quite know what to expect, but as soon as their gig started, my jaw hit the floor. MacDowell is a fine guitarist, but as soon as Thum started beatboxing, my jaw hit the floor: the sounds coming out of the man’s mouth were astounding. Check this out, for example. I caught myself thinking, ”How the fuck is this humanly possible?” He sounded like a synth; the range of control he had over his mouth was beyond belief. I almost could not believe it. On top of that, they put on a show that was witty and funny and highly original. I was instantly taken with them. Funnily enough, it transpired that they, like the Cat Empire, come from Melbourne, and indeed something in their accent reminded me of my favourite band. I’ll certainly have to look into them, too: I’m now itching to see more of that beatboxing, and indeed more beatboxing in general.

After such awesomeness it was time to come home of course, the roads surprisingly clear as our friend rudi drove us in his wheelchair-accessible car. London had done it again, surprising ad thrilling me in a way that just makes me feel so alive.

Today I was greeted with the happy news than my cousin Christina has had a baby. I don’t know too much about it, but the healthy baby girl weighed about ten pounds. Both mum and daughter are doing fine. Congratulations Chris and Tom.

Now we are come to the embers of the year

September: Summers’ end, a return to school and toil

And dark. A month forever tainted by the number eleven.

October: a month of stew and pie and sausages

Stocking our bodies ready for the coming cold.

November: bonfires and fireworks

Flashes of light in the deepening dark.

December: darkest of them all

With it’s feigned jollity amid a meaningless festival.

The embers of the year are dying; darkness draws in.

Yet fires can be re-stoked.

The stars shine brightest in the dark.

Summer might be over, yet fun does not end:

The embers of the year may yet burst into life!