I’m now quite used to living in a metropolis, in one of the biggest, greatest and most culturally diverse cities on earth; the worlds first and thus far only three-Olympic city. It is quite a shock to my system, then, to return to the town where I was born. We just got in from a walk, and, by and large, congleton is just as I remember it. Of course much as changed; new buildings have come up all over the place, most noticeably housing. Yet it seems to retain the essence of the place I always knew; the essence of a sleepy old nineteenth century market and mill town, provincial and stuck in its ways. I cannot help feeling in two minds about it: a small, overly nostalgic part of me, faced with memories associated with every street, says this is where I belong. But another part of me replies ‘not any more’. This is the place of my childhood and adolescence, yet time never halts. Part of me still loves this quiet provincial place, but now I have tasted the wider world, I thirst for more. Walking past the old daneside theatre just now, for example, I couldn’t help remarking to myself that Monty Python could never have performed there.

As I though I would, I woke up this morning not quite recognising where I was, but then I remembered. I was here, again, in the old family home; the house I was born in, and where I grew up. Truth be told, it feels wierd to be back here: everything has changed, and nothing has. The kitchen has a new suite, yet the old table I ate so many breakfasts and dinners at growing up is still there. My parents have redecorated various rooms, but the piano I taught myself to play the themes from Mash and James Bond on still stands in its place in the dining room. This, then, is he house I remember, homely and warm; a constant throughout all my adventures down in the metropolis. And, as much as I love my life in London, and although my visit will be fairly brief, it feels great to be back here.

I’m off back up north again today, just for a few days. Tonight, all being well, I’ll be sleeping in my old bedroom. It will probably feel weird to wake up back there tomorrow morning, and I must admit I feel rather apprehensive about it. I keep reminding myself everything is ok; Lyn will still be here when I get back next week. Besides, a visit ‘home’ is long overdue: it has been ages since I visited the old family house, or spent any considerable time with my parents. When I think about it that way, I’m quite looking forward to it. A walk around Congleton town centre would be good to, just to see what has changed during my five years in the big city.

I went to see The Force Awakens yesterday afternoon. It’s one of those films which, like it or not, Star Wars fan or not, one has to go watch. Believe it or not, it isn’t half bad. To my surprise, yesterday afternoon I found myself watching quite a decent film, one which I found myself getting into. Of course, I don’t know how much detail I should go into here, not wanting to spoil it for anyone else, but incredibly, Lucas and Abrams seem to have pulled it off: they have given us another episode of a story I, like everyone else, had assumed had been completed; one that doesn’t feel ‘tacked on’, but fits with the originals, and in a way enhances them. It felt great yesterday afternoon to become reacquainted with characters first ‘met’ as a child, and seeing what became of them. The first shot of the Millennium Falcon had me squealing with joy. Thus it seems that I was wrong: there is a need for new Star Wars films; I should not have been so hasty to poo-poo the idea. This wasn’t a continuation of a story just for the sake of it; nor was it the kids film I feared it would be.Star Wars is back, it seems, and jolly good thing too. And this is only the beginning: of course, given that this is only the beginning ant TFA leaves the door open for a continuation, I think we can now look forward to quite a few Star Wars film to come.

I think I’ll share this great picture, taken on christmas day, with you. Lovely, isn’t it? [img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/christmas table.jpg[/img]

What could be better than a great meal with the person you love?

I am currently watching a program about Dad’s Army on the BBC. I was just thinking: in a way, Dad’s Army could be said to be the british MASH. Of course, in many ways they are completely different, one British one American, yet they are both comedic reactions to war. They both expose it’s futility and absurdity. One is set in Korea, the other in World War Two, but the question occurs: could dads army and MASH be saying the same thing? As a student of culture, that is an intriguing question. Could they, in their own ways, both be reacting to war in the same way? After all, how can one react to the absurdity of war other than with more absurdity?

I would just like to report that I had a very merry christmas day. While I wouldn’t call it quiet due to the number of people in the house, it was fairly relaxed and chilled. Lyn, of course, supplied the music, while Marta cooked us an outstanding (vegetarian) christmas dinner. Dom and Paul were here too, and we all had an excellent time. I received some great presents, and I think Lyn liked the clothes I got her too. Thanks to Skype, we also had a good chat with my parents. In all it was a great day, a day of friends, family, peace and happiness; the type of christmas which, when you think about it the day after, makes you realise how truly lucky you are.

There is a bit of a Christmas present here. After forty-odd years, John cleese has announced he is going to revive Basil Fawlty. He’s apparently going to reprise the famous scene where Basil attacks a car with a tree branch for a Specsavers advert. While not quite as awesome as when we got wind of the Python reunion, anything concerning the revival of a comedy legend like Basil fawlty is worth keeping an eye on.

I just read that the insult to humanity currently calling himself our prime minister has ”urged people to reflect on Britain’s Christian values in his Christmas message.” At a time when use of foodbanks is at an all-time high, and people across the country are truly struggling due to tory cuts, to have to swallow such sanctimonious shit from this etonian p’tahk is galling. CaMoron goes on: ”Throughout the United Kingdom, some will spend the festive period ill, homeless or alone,” – yeah! In large part as a direct result of your policies, mate. How he has the nerve to make such a speech, pretending to champion ‘christian values’ like hope and charity when through his greed-based politics he can leave people to quite literally starve really gets to me. The sheer hypocrisy, the attempt to present himself as someone who cares about anyone other than himself, is almost too much to stomach.

I’m increasingly getting the impression that film, as an art form and industry, is being reduced down to a matter of franchise competition. As I touched upon here a week or so ago, film seems to have become a matter of major series: all the main production companies have their own franchise, and they all vie for the top spot. Every year or two they all bring out new additions to their own pet series, which they hope will secure it at the forefront of popular imagination. Usually they launch a major advertising campaign, trying to ensure their characters are on every happy meal box and sweet wrapper. We’re currently seeing this with star wars: I still think that the only reason George Lucas wanted to make a new star wars ilm is because his franchise was no longer the ‘big daddy’ of film series. Star Wars as a brand had lost it’s dominant place in mainstream culture to things like Lord of the Rings and Harry potter; where, when one thought ‘film’ or ‘cinema’, Star Wars had been one of the first things to come to mind, one now thought of other things. Lucas was desperate to regain that top cultural position for his beloved franchise; that is the only reason why we’re getting new star wars films – Gandalf had shoved Obi Wan Kanobi aside. It’s not about art any more, but competition for cultural dominance between production companies.

You might say that’s always been the way cinema has conducted itself, certainly since 1977; but it seems to be getting worse. More and more this is the paradigm upon which mainstream cinema is based – why else would Warner brothers be making a new film based in the harry potter universe? Film is now a tool production companies use to compete for cultural dominance, to get attention and money. It’s not about storytelling anymore – why else would they continue to make films about characters after their stories have ended? The result is a mess of never ending narratives which rely more and more on cliche. If this gets much worse, film will soon be a matter of complete dross which people will go to because they ”saw the last one”.

I think I’ll just flag this story up, simply because it made my jaw drop as soon as I turned on my computer and checked the bbc website. ” US space company SpaceX has successfully landed an unmanned rocket upright – the first time such a feat has been accomplished.” As a guy who finds parking his wheelchair in the right place a bit hard at times, I find that remarkable. While I’m still not sure if I approve of space exploration being opened up to the free market (yes, competition can drive up standards, but it can also mean corners are cut), we’re certainly seeing a new, exciting era of innovation. This new vertical landing technique will certainly make getting a rocket back to land much safer and easier; when it’s perfected, it could mean rocket ‘turn-round’ becomes much faster, which opens up all kinds of possibilities.

We are now home from Tenerife safe and sound. I can’t resist sharing this brilliant photo with you.

[img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/tennerife 1.jpg[/img]

Such happy pictures, taken on such wonderful trips, only make me want to travel even more.

I can’t remember when I last swam in the sea, but yesterday, supported by John, I had a short paddle in the warm shallow waters of Santa Cruz de Tenerife. I can honestly say it was amazing. It was an astonishing few moments, feeling the Atlantic around my legs; I cannot describe how lovely it felt, watching tropical fish swim nearby. I only spent a few minutes in the water, not wanting to tempt fate, but it was a few moments in a beautiful place I will never forget. We then stayed on the beach until well into the evening, and were treated to a sunset so spectacular that it could only be compared to the one I saw at Uluru: the sky showed us wonderful shades of gold and dark blue which made my jaw drop. It was a wonderful end to a great holiday.

Sat here, in an urban square, this could be anywhere;

The fountain, the sculpture,

All ubiquitous. Standard, save for the odd regional variation.

A square like anywhere;

This square could be anywhere across Europe, Across the world.

But it doesn’t mater, as long as I’m in this square

This square urban anywhere

With you.

I suppose I can be a bit of a child when I’m on holiday; wanting to go here, there and everywhere: ‘Explore, explore, explore!’ I forget that other people might prefer to stay put, content to relax in the hotel room. Yesterday was such a day: I wanted to get out and about when all lyn wanted to do was chill out on our balcony. Truth be told, by around late afternoon I was getting a bit frustrated, wondering why we weren’t doing anything. I’ve always been like that though, and it probably irritated lyn yesterday. In the end, however, it turned out to be quite a great day: we eventually went out in the evening for dinner, and came across a Spanish film crew rehearsing for a live tv show to be broadcast tonight. Sat at a table eating our dinner, we were part of a live studio audience, although I had no idea what was going on. It was quite fascinating though, and I’m really pleased we saw it. It just teaches me that I should be a bit more patient sometimes.

The trees in Tenerife have jumpers, perhaps to keep them warm.

To wrap a tree up in knitwear is definitely not the norm.

But down here in Spain one sees many strange things

All part of the great fun the act of travel brings.

The trees might be in jumpers, but that’s just part of the fun

Part of why we came to this island in the sun.

Knitwear on the plant life might seem a bit queer

But it’s easy to forget, for them, it’s cold this time of year.

It is quite unarguable that film’s biggest franchise is James Bond. No other film series comes close to 007’s fifty year, twenty-four film reign. One suspects other studios will be quite envious of it. What studio executive wouldn’t kill to own a franchise as well established, as much a cultural cornerstone as bond? Could Disney now be using Star Wars to create a similar franchise? Might it now start turning out a new Star Wars film every two years, a la eon with bond? While one can think of quite a few potential contenders for bonds crown – Star Trek, Harry Potter etc – Star Wars has perhaps the best shot of competing with 007. Might disney’s aim, in taking over the Star Wars franchise, now be to create a cultural phenomenon similar to that of bond?

I am sat in the resteraunt area of our hotel, the only place I can get online, sipping coffee and fresh orange juice in the shade. The day is warming up as I watch people come and go, speaking in rapid Spanish to the friendly woman behind the bar. Here and now, in the cool breeze, it’s hard to recall that it’s Christmas and that, back home in London, it’s the depths of winter. Indeed, in this paradise, one can forget winter even exists.

I am fast falling in love with this beautiful place. I had assumed Tenerife would be a tourist attraction; an island of holiday makers, barren of all history and culture, whose soul purpose would be take ones money. But yesterday, taking the tram to La Laguna, i began to glimps a place rich with heritage. The buildings seemed very Spanish; the architecture vibrant, and unlike anything back home. In an instant I remembered why I love travel. There is much more to this Island than I thought, and I woke up today eager to continue exploring.

Just a quick update to say Lyn and I are safe and well in Tenerife. We got here quits late last night, but this morning I found myself on a beautiful Island. Lyn’s idea of having a short winter holiday was awesome; and today we have the whole of paradise to explore.

Up up, early up! Time to get on the road. Time to get up and ready, off and out, breakfasteded, into a taxi, and then

We fly! Out of the great, grey city

To somewhere warmer, if just for a few days.

Right, time to check: passports…luggage…ipads…

All ready! Time to post this, turn off the mac

And go!

I think I’ll just post a link to Lyn’s latest blog on here today. In it, Lyn say she fears she sounds crazy, but I find much of what she writes holds water. People are being controlled through various state-run apparatus, particularly the media, and unless we wake up to it, we risk becoming subservient drones enslaved to a few allpowerful corporations. While I wouldn’t go as far as Lyn in saying there is some kind of global conspiracy or Shadow World Government – not yet, anyway – we need to be alert to the way dominant power structures are continually enforced and independent thought constantly repressed. That, after all, goes back to what Marx was saying 150 years ago.

Earlier online I came across something which truly puzzles me. I’m on several AAC-related groups on facebook, and I keep coming across discussions about the apparent backlash against facilitated communication. Given the nature of FC, a few doubters are to be expected: questions about who is doing the communicating, the disabled person or the person helping them, are bound to crop up. Yet what struck me is the vehemence of the objections. A growing number of people view it with utter contempt, as if it was something politically or morally wrong. They actively oppose it and are calling for it’s practice to be stopped. That utterly baffles me; it’s like objecting to the use of wheelchairs or communication aids. It goes further than debating it’s effectiveness or validity, and frames FC as something evil. In so doing, it denies out of hand the possibility that people who need FC are intelligent enough to communicate. I find that ridiculous; you might as well say the same of me or Lyn! I really don’t get it; and let’s not forget while these academic debates are going on, many severely disabled people will be left totally unable to express themselves.

Our PA Marta just showed me this. It is a letter her daughter sent to father christmas. She included a page from the argos catalogue, just to make sure Santa knew exactly what she wanted. It seemed too endearing not to share here, although you could see it as a sign of how consumerist children have now become…

[img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/santa let.jpg[/img]

Mind you, given that she also asks for money leads me to wonder whether it may also be a sign that she knows full well who the actual recipient of this letter will be.

This entry is just to note that, sometime recently, my blog hitcount passed the two million mark. Given that I only passed the one million milestone a couple of years ago, the second million was a lot quicker. I must be doing something right to generate so much more interest – either that or I’m getting visited by lots more bots. In any case it’s quite a pleasing milestone to have passed, and incentive enough to keep blogging.

Donald Trump worries me. With his latest comments, he has established himself as a bigot of the worst kind. To the cheers of his unthinking supporters, he has proposed a ban on muslims entering america. When I read that earlier, my jaw dropped. For one, wouldn’t it contravene the american constitution, which prohibits the government passing laws concerning religion? It would be a big step towards making the States a christian-only country, which I’m sure is not what it’s founders intended. Trump is a bigot and a buffoon, only in the position he is in because he had a wealthy father. Much like Nigel Farage over here, he is a loud-mouth xenophobic bully too used to getting his own way; but unlike farage, there is a real chance he could gain a position of power quite soon. That’s what worries me most about Donald Trump: the last thing we need now is a racist, climate change-denying moron in charge of the most powerful and influential country on earth.

I’d be negligent as a blogger if I didn’t flag this excellent piece by my friend Darryl Sellwood up. A disability activist based in Adelaide, Australia, in this article Dazz explores some of the issues surrounding his local disability pride march. I find what he writes about balloons, for example, particularly interesting: is it appropriate to let balloons be tied to one’s wheelchair? Would that not turn a march about some fairly serious issues into too much of a carnival? Darryl unpicks these issues well; you can tell he’s doing a PhD in disability issues as he explores the various ways of looking at things. It also reminds me that I haven’t written anything of the length of this article in ages, and that I need to do some serious analytical writing soon.

As a fervent supporter of the bbc and publicly funded tv in general, I just want to flag this up. ” Sir David Attenborough has voiced concern about the BBC’s future as he returns to film at the Great Barrier Reef, after nearly 60 years. ‘If you lose the BBC, then I certainly would have lost a very important element of my life,’ he says.” The beeb is facing atrocious cuts of £150m. I’d argue that if we lose it, or it becomes greatly diminished, we would loose a central part of british culture. Where else could you see beautiful programmes like David Attenborough’s, free to watch and without commercial interruption? Of course, the tories were always going to attack it – they hate anything based on the principals of sharing and fairness. It’s also why they loathe the nhs. To them, you should only get what you pay for; if you can’t afford it, tough. I’m just relieved we have a tv service as good as the bbc funded by the tv license. The question is, how much longer can it survive given our current government?

I think I need to chill out a bit today. After the awesomeness of Thursday, yesterday was another hectic but cool day. Sat in the o2 thursday evening, Lyn and I noticed advertisements for an upcoming Muse gig. Lyn loves Muse, so first thing yesterday I went back up to North Greenwich to try to get tickets. Unfortunately they were sold out, so I got the bus home empty handed.

Not long after that, though, I set off out again. I was short of cash, so I went to Bexleyheath, getting a few supplies from Asda while there. By the time I got back it was nigh on four and I was already slightly tired, but my day was far from over.

At about five Dom arrived at our place. As we’d planned, he and I set off for the Southbank, leaving Lyn at home. Getting dinner in a pub en route (god I’d missed pub dinners!) we went to the BFI, there to see True Romance (Tony Scott, 1993). Going had been Dominik’s idea, but I was in for a treat. The film ruled; it was a film about film, disguised as a love story. It was written by Quentin Tarantino, packed with great performances from everyone from Dennis Hopper to Christian Slater, and nigh on every frame bears the mark of cinephiliac love. I adored it, and left the screening room itching to see it again.

I was almost nodding off on the train home. It had been a great couple of days. London had done it again: where else but here, in the world’s greatest city, can one have such a variety of fabulous experiences? Days like yesterday make me feel so alive. Today, as I say, I need to rest, but just for a while. Coming home yesterday Lyn told me that she had sorted and booked a holiday for us! How awesome is that. We fly to Tenerife quite soon, but today, I think I just need to chill.

I read somewhere earlier that Idris Elba has confirmed that he is not in the running to play James Bond. If he had taken the role, it would have been the first time 007 had been portrayed by a non-white actor. I’ve come across many reactions from Bond fans online welcoming this move and calling it common sense, but it made me wonder, would a Black Bond be such a bad thing? Those against the idea usually employ a reducto ad absurdum tactic, arguing that a black bond would open the gate to a disabled, lesbian transgender [insert a minority] Bond. That is, it could get silly and deviate too far from the character Ian Fleming created. While I see their point, I think there is room for maneuver with 007. He has always changed over his fifty years in cinema; compare Roger Moore’s Bond to Daniel Craig’s, and you see a completely different man. I have seen nothing in Fleming stipulating Bond’s skin colour, and even if there was, since when have his original texts been taken as gospel? Another argument played the ”it works both ways” card, suggesting that you wouldn’t have a black man playing Bond just as you couldn’t have a white guy playing Shaft. But bond and Shaft have totally different dynamics: the Shaft film(s) were about race with skin colour a major issue; the character was fixed and unchanging. The colour of bond’s skin isn’t fundamental to him, and I find the suggestion it is rather distasteful. As far as I can tell, the objections to an actor like Elba playing bond reduce down to either resistance to change or base prejudice: those screaming ”Bond is white!” forget the unique versatility if the character. 007 has always changed with the times – it’s one of the most fascinating things about the franchise. It might thus be time for Bond to evolve once more; and having a black man play him could take the franchise in an interesting new direction.

It seems you can barely get me out of the o2 arena these days, as I was up there again last night. I went with Lyn to see Deep Purple, and zark, was it awesome! As soon as the warm-up band, Rival Sons, played it’s first chord, I knew we were in for a great night. What followed was about three hours of pure metallic bliss: I suppose Lyn and I are a pair of old rockers; we both love a good dose of old-school heavy metal. The high-point for me was when they played Smoke On the Water: as soon as that famous opening riff struck up, I was out of my chair, on my feet, head-banging like something possessed. The music just took me, and I felt a buzz of sheer awesome.

The evening passed too quickly, and we were soon trying to navigate our way through the crowds trying to leave the o2. But it had been a great night, and I woke up with that famous guitar riff still in my head – what better sign of a great night could there be?

Once again we are at war; once again british planes are bombing an enemy no bomb can defeat. Bombing ISIS, Daesh or whatever we’re supposed to call them will achieve nothing. Those who advocate for this action say that we have to act, that doing nothing is not an option. Yet it seems to me that doing nothing is the only true form of retaliation. The second we strike back, we enter into these thug’s warped, ‘war of civilizations’ narrative. Instead, when faced with an atrocity like Paris, we must simply repair the damage they cause and carry on. We must show them they cannot change us; we must deny them the attention they crave. We must send the message that, whatever they do they cannot change us. To do anything else would be to act out of revenge; it would simply make matters worse, like trying to swat a fly – it just makes it more and more angry, when if you ignore it, it will eventually fly away.

[quote=”Moby-Dick”]”Vengeance on a dumb brute!” cried Starbuck, ”that simply smote thee from blindest instinct! Madness! To be enraged with a dumb thing,

Captain Ahab, seems blasphemous.”[/quote]

I might have a beer or two sometime soon – possibly tonight, more probably tomorrow. It has been well over three months since I last drank an alcoholic drink, and I feel a hell of a lot better for it. Part of me still craves a tasty real ale of an evening, though, so as long as I keep it under control I suppose it’s okay. My break allowed me to establish one important thing, however: I noticed no difference in the severity or frequency of my absences compared with when I was drinking; they happened just as regularly – and in roughly the same patterns – irrespective of whether I’d had a beer recently or not. I just wanted that noted. Mind you, perhaps more importantly this period has taught me that I can leave alcohol alone if I want to, and that I feel a lot better when I do. A beer or two can be fun, but it can quickly turn into a problem, so the second I start getting silly again, it stops for another three months. One can lead to two, two to three, and before you know it I’m repeating the mistakes of the past, so I’ve asked Lyn to tell me if she thinks I’m starting to slip back in to old habits. For now, though, I’m looking forward to good real ale quite soon.

Dear Mr. CaMoron

Stop! Stop this now! You are not the man you think you are: You are not a great war leader, nor is the uk yours to play with. You are just a shabby little man, wealthy through accident of birth, now in a position of power that you neither deserve nor comprehend. You tonight intend to take us to war in order to merely satisfy your fantasy of being a great leader; a war against an enemy we created through previous such folly; an enemy which our bombs will multiply a thousand fold. Can you not see, sir, that you cannot use bombs or guns against an enemy like ISIS, as that would only martyr them, and help them recruit more angry young men to their nihilistic ranks? I doubt you can, or you wouldn’t have so arrogantly dismissed those who do as ‘terrorist sympathisers”. Thus, as you are incapable of seeing this obvious, self-evident folly, as you seem intent on placing us all in greater danger, you are utterly unfit to be prime minister, and I demand you stand aside.

I don’t know how useful it would be around the suburbs of South London, and getting it on to a bus might prove interesting, but the schoolboy in me wants one of these babies! It’s a tracked, 29 horsepower vehicle which you reverse your normal chair into. A safety bar then comes down in front of you. As reported here it goes over all terrain and has a top speed of 17mph. It was specifically designed for wheelchair users, particularly farmers who have become disabled and want to retain their way of life; but I can’t help but imagine how awesome it would be bombing around these streets in one.