The thing is, there isn’t much to record about yesterday, now that I come to it. Don’t get me wrong: it wasn’t a bad day – apart, that is, from the fact that the left drivewheel on my wheelchair broke on my way out, so I had to be pushed everywhere for the rest of the day. It just wasn’t the bells-and-whistles sort of day I was kind of anticipating. It was a lovely, relaxed afternoon in the park, spent sipping coffee talking to friends. Matt joined us. He’s currently working on what sounds like quite a large film shoot, and it was fascinating to hear him tell us all about it (of course, you’ll understand that I can’t go into detail on here). Cricket was also being played on the pitch next to us, and it was great to bear witness to the first few balls being bowled of the season. That also enabled me to say Hi to James and my cricketing friends during their tea break. Thus, party or not, broken powerchair or not, it was still a really good afternoon. If the rest of the summer is up to that standard, I think I’m in for a good one.

I am really looking forward to this afternoon. As I mentioned a couple of days ago, Lyn has a gig in the park. It is to celebrate the launch of her new album, so it will be quite a big event. On top of that, though, Mike, who runs the cafe in the park, celebrates his birthday today; it’s also the first cricket match of the season. All in all, then, I suspect I have an awesome afternoon ahead of me. Aside from the clouds, it feels like summer is finally here. Expect a full report about it on here soon.

Yesterday was quite a good day. I was pleased with the blog entry I wrote in the morning – the longest I’ve written for quite a while. The afternoon was spent out and about, mostly with Lyn at the cafe, where we enjoyed some delicious cake. Then, after dinner in the evening, I went to a film festival organisation meeting: preparations for September’s event are going really well, and, while I still have a few things to organise, I’m really looking forward to it.

After the meeting, though, something happened which got me down. We finished at about nine, and everyone was leaving Charlton House. Gavin and the others were heading for the White Swan for a drink. In times passed I’d have eagerly joined them, but I haven’t had a drink in almost a year and didn’t want to be tempted, so I crossed the road and started to head home.

All of a sudden, two boys on bikes started to insult me as I went past the take away. I was shocked: at the meeting I was respected; my input is valued, and I’m treated as any other member of the group. As we had left, we had been talking about my blog, with one guy saying how impressed he was with my entry yesterday. Suddenly these kids were trying to make fun of me simply for being disabled, saying things about my dribbling. They seemed to think it made them look big and hard.

The way in which I had suddenly been taken from respected member of a committee to object of mockery was too much for me to bear. I told a woman standing nearby who seemed to know these children that if she didn’t discipline them I would contact the police. She said she would, and at first I thought about hanging around to ensure she did, but it was getting late so I just sighed and continued my journey home. Frankly I would be surprised if she did anything.

This really is getting to me; it’s happening more and more. The same group of little twits think it’s fun to try to provoke and upset me. It just seems unfair – why should I have to tolerate it? I want to do something about it, but I don’t know what. Frankly, part of me wants to knock their blocks off, which I suppose is part of the problem: when I get agitated, I try to shout back, which they think is funny. That’s why they do it. I should therefore just ignore it, but I don’t see why I should have to put up with it. I’ve worked very hard to get to where I am today; to be trivialised, to be the object of mockery by some little shit who probably won’t achieve half of what I have, just infuriates me.

I once wrote, some time ago now, that I believed that to be liberal is to think. While I realise that that is quite a generalisation, I stand by it. Liberalism is the realisation that there are other ways of thinking and living just as valid as one’s own; it is the acceptance and appreciation of human variety. Liberals don’t judge people simply on the basis of who they are; they try not to make assumptions or generalisations. To take such a stance requires thought: it necessitates intellectual engagement; one tries to see things from other points of view. To a liberal, for example, crime is committed not because people are bad, deviant or evil, but because they are driven to do so by their socioeconomic circumstances.

Conversely, it follows that I believe anti liberals do not think. They seem to refuse to do so. To them, only their way of life is valid, and everyone else is in the wrong.

They seem not to want to consider other perspectives. They find comfort and strength in the belief that they are right and superior, everyone else wrong and inferior. To engage with other ways of thinking would threaten that comfortable notion, so they refuse to do so. Theirs is a stance based on arrogance and ignorance.

The problem is, such attitudes are on the rise. People are refusing to think things through, rejecting the advice of experts and thinking only their viewpoint is valid. A type of thuggery is on the rise: people increasingly think they have a right to discriminate, and that intolerance should have a place in society. Of course, this was all set in motion by the referendum last year: the victory of bigots like Farage lent legitimacy to the puerile hate which had been subdued, yet which some thugs still harboured. Farage, in his attempt to make xenophobia seem reasonable and acceptable, caused such scumbags to believe that their views were valid, their arrogance was founded in real superiority, and they had a right to air their prejudices.

We are currently seeing a shocking rise in hate crime; UKIP are openly advocating a burkha ban; old prejudices are starting to become commonplace. This has arisen from certain people’s refusal to see the broader picture and engage with other points of view. That, after all, requires thought. It is far easier, for some, simply to believe a sharp-dressed man who tells them they don’t need to tolerate others, that he can make Britain great again and that we need to ‘take back control’. People accept such simplistic fantasies because they reduce everything to binaries such as ‘us and them’, ‘good and bad’ and ‘black and white’ which means they do not have to engage with the complexities and uncertainties of the world. Remaining part of Europe meant entertaining the idea that we could live happily alongside people who are different yet equal to us; in turn that means accepting we are not superior or exceptional, but just one member of a community. That is a far more subtle, less clear-cut reality some people refused to deal with.

In turn this has lead to the legitimisation of thuggery. The outists won, so people now think they have a right to see the world in the simplest terms. They now think they have a right to air their hatreds and prejudices. They think it means that they were right all along, us liberals were defeated, so they can ignore us ‘snowflakes’ and do as they please – our opinions no longer matter. I fear we are now going to see this rise and rise: the referendum last year unleashed a monster; it gave a green light to people’s most basic, simplistic, thuggish thoughts. It told every racist drunkard or xenophobic taxi driver that they were right all along, and that they didn’t have to listen to us snooty, university educated liberal elites. They dismiss the idea of being politically correct as some kind of oppressive thought control, not realising how vital it is to guaranteeing rights and equalities. Simplistic, binary nationalism won the day, and suddenly the views of those who proposed a more complex, subtle, ambiguous and colourful reality have become utterly irrelevant.

Whether this was the intended result when CaMoron first announced the referendum is uncertain, yet nonetheless it is what is happening, and I suspect it will get far worse before it gets better. People, many of whom as I wrote here were disenfranchised by the education system, take the referendum result to mean they have the green light to air their most puerile, childish prejudices. To them, the views of those who say such discrimination is a bad thing are now irrelevant; they won the referendum, and so can victimise any minority they please. They think they have been shown to be right all along, that the country somehow agrees with them, so they can now air their idiotic, reductionist views freely. It’s a very worrying, quite sickening state of affairs.

Lyn is currently in the process of trying to promote her new album. As with all art these days, creating something is only half the story; the other half is getting it seen, read or listened to. To that end, L has arranged to have a launch party in the park on Saturday. Conveniently for me, that coincides with the first Mighty Eights cricket match of the season, so hopefully I’ll get to party, promote and watch cricket, all at the same time.

Seriously though, I’m really looking forward to Saturday: Lyn has worked so hard on this collection of songs, for over two years. She often works late into the night, long after I go to bed. Composition for her is a long, meticulous, painstaking process. To have that work celebrated, as it absolutely deserves to be, will be awesome. If you are anywhere near Charlton Park this Saturday afternoon, please join us. I have a feeling it will be a great afternoon.

I just finished watching Empire of the Tsars, a history of Romanov Russia from the BBC, and I must say it wasn’t that bad. I’ve been interested in Russian history since I was introduced to it at A-Level: it just seems so vibrant, so dramatic, so vicious and sad. It all boils down to a set of bloody-minded autocrats who, one after another, refuse to relinquish power. The Tsars themselves were bad enough, especially Nicolas II, but I can’t help thinking that what followed them – the Red Tsars was even worse. I also can’t help thinking that it is the same, even now; Russia never seems to change. Isn’t Putin a despotic autocrat, a strong man desperate to impose his will, in his own way? Poor old Russia: no matter how many revolutions it has, it never seems to change.

I just read the incredible news that Bananarama are going to reunite. How awesome…not!

I could really do with news of something great right now. The bit of news you get from time to time, which cheers you up and gives you something to look forward to, such as when I got  wind that James Bond was going to be used in the 2012 olympics, or that Monty Python were doing a reunion. Such bits of news really perk me up and get me excited, giving me something cool to think about and fixate upon. It feels like ages since I had such a glimmer of hope; I think we could all do with one right now. Every day I check the Entertainment pages for something – anything – for such a nugget of news, but there hasn’t been one for quite some time. The only thing I’m mildly looking forward to these days is Star Trek Discovery, and even that’s cautiously. I want to find something I can get excited about; something which would remind me that there is still fun to be had in the world, and take my mind off politics for a while.

I suspect all this recent sound and fury might soon be moot. Today, our eyes should be on our southern neighbour: if, as many predict, Marine Le Penn gets elected in France, then I think the European Union will be over as a project. It’s days will be numbered, at least. La Penn will want to withdraw; with two of it’s key members gone, it’ll loose all structural integrity and just collapse. What would be the point of it? Why try to hold it together with people across europe reverting to nationalism? This noble project will fade and die.

Even more worryingly, if La Penn is elected, it will be another step down the path the western world began last year. Between brexit, Trump’s election and the possible election of La Penn, it is now clear that we are heading in a very dark direction. Tolerance and respect for others are being supplanted by greed and arrogance; people are becoming more greedy, caring only about themselves. Nationalism – the infantile urge to keep societies and cultures separate – is on the rise. Things are becoming like they were in the thirties. We are heading somewhere very dark: brexit was one step down that road, the election of trump was another; tomorrow we might take yet another.

According to this, an international clown festival will shortly be coming to London. The London Clown Festival will take place in Crouch End from the eleventh to twentieth of May. While there are, of course, plenty of clowns around already with a general election coming up, something like this might be just what we need at the moment. Everything has become so serious and doom-laiden; there is so much anger flying around. I really think a good laugh is just what we need, so I’m seriously thinking about going to watch the guys in oversized suits and red faces – and I don’t mean those in Westminster.

I think I need to note how deeply, deeply disturbing I find this video report from The Young Turks up. I came across it last night and was utterly bewildered by it’s savagery. It shows a young boy with fairly severe autism being arrested by cops in Florida. The boy was apparently misbehaving at school. When I first saw it, I didn’t know what to think, and still don’t. Surely the adults concerned – teachers and police – realise that a child on the autistic spectrum doesn’t know what he is doing is wrong. He does not understand his behaviour as others do. I’ve been working with kids on the spectrum at Charlton Park Academy for seven years; to see a child like that treated in such a way is horrifying. Frankly, this is not the type of behaviour one expects to see in a modern, western democracy. I really hope this is not symptomatic of the times in which we now live.

These days, I find great solace in reminding myself that all the awesome stuff which happened before last year remains awesome. 2016 was terrible, and I still get really, really angry thinking about it. Every time I see, hear or read anything about Brexit, I fly into an almighty rage. Humanity is going in the wrong direction, mislead by liars and fools. The only way I can calm myself down is to think about everything I find incredible, everything which fascinated me, and all the cool stuff which happened in, say, 2012 and 2014, and tell myself it hasn’t been tarnished. When London hosted the olympics, it was part of the EU; when Monty Python performed at the o2, we were still in the EU.

These days it feels like everything has turned to dust: the xenophobes have got their way; society will soon become far more intolerant and inward-looking. There is a lot of fear and anger in my heart right now. The only way I can control it, the only way I can calm myself down, is to retreat into memory and think about all the cool stuff which happened before last year. That remains unblemished: it happened before everything was smeared with hate, before the country was fooled into betraying itself.

I used to love this country. I loved it’s culture, and so much cool stuff that happened here. Yet, after last year, the only way I could justify continuing to love such things was to tell myself that they happened before the folly – before the united kingdom turned it’s back on the world. I want to be a member of the global community – how could I continue to love a country which denied me that? Thus, to me, 2016 represents a partition – a dividing point before which I respected and loved the UK, and after which it lost it’s way, and was taken from me. In a way I find comfort in the fact that all the cool stuff happened before the country lost my respect, so it’s memory can remain untarnished by the utter folly of what happened afterward. These days, that is the only way I can content myself.

This might sound silly or childish, but it’s the only way I can find any solace, and keep loving all the things I found so amazing in 2012 and 2014. Of course, cool things can still happen, and I really hope they do – I think we could all do with a shot of awesomeness right now – but I’m glad the cool things now so dear to me happened before the country lost it’s way; at least I have a kind of heyday to look back upon, and remind myself that things weren’t always so utterly, utterly stupid. Who knows: one day a british city may host the olympics again, and we’ll see a repeat of the glories of 2012; but, for now, I can’t see that happening. For now, for me, pride in the UK exists only as a memory, and won’t return until we get back on the right, internationalist, outward-looking course. If, as many predict, the world at large is about to take a very dark turn, then at least I have some great things to look back on, before everything went crazy.

Yesterday I was sent quite an interesting task by one of my colleagues at the Charlton and Woolwich Free Film Festival. He sent me a list of about twenty short films to watch and evaluate, in order to see if we could include them in the festival. It was a task right up my street, and I just finished the last one. They were a bit hit and miss, to be honest: some of the films were great, while others were downright weird. One, for example, was about one man paying another to pretend to be his child. Yet I must say I really enjoy tasks like this: I’m very interested in this short, abrupt narrative form. There seems to be a type of poetry to it. I also think, with the advent of Twitter and Youtube, it’s the way things are going – we don’t have time these days for longer narratives. It all puts one in mind of Hemingway’s very abrupt, staccato writing style, and the way he, too, sought to go directly to the point. In a way, it also evokes the style of writing many people use online, in blogs and twitter.

This type of film does away with anything superfluous and tries to address one’s emotions directly. That’s why I found this task quite fascinating, and why I got through it so quickly.

Things have just got interesting. If anyone still doubted the tories put party interest before that of the country, today they got their proof. After months of denying that she would call an election, this morning May did just that (although I’m sure this blog won’t be the first place anyone will hear that). She obviously thinks that, the polls being as they are, the tories will win, giving May the mandate she craves. Thus this decision reeks of opportunism. After totally fucking the country last year, the tories want our permission to do it some more. The problem is, Labour is currently a shambles. The only hope for us who want to remain part of the EU – part of the world – is to vote Lib Dem. If the opposition is split between Labour and the Lib Dems, the tories will get reelected, brexit will continue, and life will get even worse. I’m thus very worried about what will happen in six weeks’ time: could it lead to a new hope, or an even deeper pit?

Things, it would seem, have just got very interesting indeed.

I don’t think i’ve ever mentioned being a fan of MASH on here. In the nineties, it used to be repeated on Sky One* at half seven every weekday night, and dad used to put it on. I was just a kid, so I probably didn’t appreciate the tragic aspects to it, but I remember liking it. Now that another, probably even more catastrophic war on the Korean Peninsula seems imminent, I find myself wondering what Hawkeye Pierce would make of all this. He would no doubt have a few wisecracks to make about Trump, yet as ever those quips would hide a deeper understanding of the dangerousness and underlying tragedy of the situation. With that in mind, perhaps it’s appropriate to direct you here today.

*I probably ought to note that I had begged my parents to get Sky tv so I could watch wwf wrestling when I was little. That was, of course, well before I realised what an utter scumbag Rupert Murdoch is.

I noticed a new sign on the door of the cafe yesterday, printed on yellow paper, notifying the public that one of their more vulnerable customers had recently been verbally attacked nearby, and asking people to come forward if they saw anything like that. Obviously it was referring to me and my run in with some local kids last week. Truth be told, though, I didn’t know what to make of it: of course, I’m humbled that they care; yet my eyebrow was raised at being labelled ‘vulnerable’. Am I really that vulnerable? Yes, I have cerebral palsy; I use a powerchair and communication aid. But I’m thirty-four, have a Master’s, and I can handle a few airhead kids. I welcome the sentiment behind the sign; I now regard the guys over in that cafe as good friends. Yet the use of that particular word – the sense of weakness it projects onto me and people with disabilities in general – somehow bothers me.

Dad popped over yesterday, just on one of his fairly routine visits to see how we were. As usual, we spoke about this and that – it’s always nice to hear what the family’s up to. Dad also made a very interesting point with regard to my entry on Thursday, though: he thought the idea was cool, but could it be expanded upon? What would a parrot sketch involving, say, vulcans look like? After all, such a sketch with the Klingons would probably be fairly short as they would just tear each other’s heads off. The vulcans, on the other hand, might enter into a philosophical debate over whether the parrot was truly dead or not, and what death is. And what about other cultures and ‘races’, fictional or real? What would such a sketch look like in china or Japan? Might Japanese people be too courteous to argue? After all, dad pointed out, the original sketch could be read as a comment on British culture: like a lot of python, it revolves around ideas of class hierarchy, with a rather bourgeois man confronting the slightly dodgy proletarian pet shop owner about selling him duff merchandise. Could this famous old bit of comedy thus be used to reflect the differences between cultures? It has, at it’s heart, a bitter dispute – a tension and argument which, by taking it to the point of absurdity, are used to tease out cultural traits. Could such a conflict be used to illuminate other traits in other cultures? I must say, I find that idea both highly amusing and absolutely intriguing.

Yesterday I came across someone on facebook saying that they would refuse to watch the new John Cleese sitcom because of his stance on the EU, but I welcome the news that he is going back into TV with glee. Whatever his politics, surely the news that one of the greatest comedians ever is rejoining the beeb is worth a smile; and as I wrote in the addendum to this entry, one should never let politics get in the way of such matters. Of course, whether the new show will be any good or not remains to be seen. The question is, does the old master still have it, or is this just yet another attempt at restoking fading fires?

A couple of days ago, I had one of my weird, slightly random ideas I get from time to time. How awesome would it be to see Monty Python’s Parrot Sketch performed in Klingon, by two actors in full Klingon Costume? The thought amused me for a while, before I tried to mock up a simple picture of two Klingons, one holding an empty bird cage, with a speech bubble with ”I wish to register a complaint” in Klingon in it. The thought of such a juxtaposition, such a combining of the greatest ever comedy sketch with science fiction’s most famous warrior race, amused me greatly. It just seemed so random, so absurd, it just begged to be made real.

Trundling home from a film festival meeting last night, though, I found myself wondering whether I could actually bring such a performance about. Ideas are all very fine and dandy, but what would I have to do to make it happen? It struck me as quite an interesting thought experiment. As bizarre as it may seem, weirder things have happened; if the queen can parachute out of a helicopter with 007, I can get two Klingons to perform the parrot sketch. The question is, how.

I’d want it to be filmed, of course, so the first step would be to hire a film crew. I’d also need to get the entire script of the sketch translated into Klingon. Automatic translators exist online, of course (here for example), but I’d probably need to hire a professional linguist, familiar with the invented language. Then I need actors who would be willing to get dressed up in full Klingon regalia and speak in Klingon. I somehow doubt the original parrot sketch actors, John Cleese and Michael Palin, would be willing to do it, so I would need to use new actors, ideally ones familiar with both Python and Trek. Add to that make-up artists, preferably some who have worked on Star Trek and so know how to create a Klingon.

The list goes on. I have no idea how to sort out any of these. There would probably also be copyright issues to deal with, too. Nonetheless, i’m sure there must be a way to get this sketch filmed. The thought of hearing a Klingon utter the immortal words ”I wish to register a complaint”, or ”Complaint Suy qachmey vIneH”, is just too delicious to let go. Just think what it might look like – assuming, of course, that one Klingon wouldn’t just kill the other for arguing with him. Whether I can make this crazy idea a reality, of course, remains to be seen, but if I could somehow bring it about, I have a feeling that it would be glorious.

I just got wind of something potentially very interesting indeed related to Star Trek Discovery. I still keep my ears open for news about the new Trek series, and was just now fascinated to come across a rumour that the new first officer is going to be male-to-female transgender. It’s just speculation for now, but a few days ago I raised my eyebrow upon hearing that the character will be female, yet will be called Michael. This has lead some to speculate that she will be trans. If so, I find it potentially fascinating. This is the sort of acceptance and tolerance we need to see, perhaps now more than ever.

Trek, of course, has always lead the way with this sort of thing. When Uhura was cast as a black person in the sixties, many people objected. Gene Roddenberry’s point was that, by the twenty-third century, the colour of a person’s skin won’t matter. The same principal obviously applies here, and while some doubtless will accuse Trek producers of trying to ram diversity down our throats, I certainly think that this is a step in the right direction. My only niggle is, as I wrote here, Geordie Laforge aside, we have never seen any characters with disabilities on Star Trek, so that is what I would like to see next.

When I got to the cafe yesterday, I was greeted with a most wondrous sight: Mike, the owner, was being helped by Stuart, a local painter I know, to put a new painting on the wall. Stuart had done a beautiful painting of Charlton House, just up the path from the cafe. The image was stunning. About a metre by a metre, it captured the old house in all it’s regal, seventeenth-century glory. It was framed, as if seen through a window, upon which a bird sat; before the house was the green, where I could just imagine a cricket match being played; above the house was a sky as blue as jade. It was a truly remarkable piece of work, and I could look at it for hours. I now have yet another reason to visit the cafe. In the meantime, you can check out Stu’s work here.

Yesterday I came across a reference to I, Daniel Blake. I hadn’t heard much about it, but I gathered from the reference that it was a film about the benefit cuts, and that tory commentator Toby Young had tried to dismiss the film as somehow ”not ringing true”. That of course got my interest, so this morning I’d give Ken Loach’s film a watch on Youtube. Young had apparently said it was too bleak, and ”a far cry from the claimants portrayed on benefits street”. (see this video).

What I just found myself watching was an unremittingly bleak film, yet one wholly and heartbreakingly based in the savage truth. If you want to know what is going on in this country, if you want to understand what the Tories are doing and the effect their cuts are having, watch this film. While I got the impression that there were ever so slight whiffs of exaggeration for dramatic or narrative purposes, time ant time again, I’ve heard stories like this. In a way it feels like an amalgamation of many people’s stories, all condensed into one. My one criticism would only be that it too often goes out of it’s way to explain technical terms and details, so some of the dialogue felt a bit contrived. Young apparently complains that the film is too bleak, yet whether he likes it or not, this film exposes the reality of what the tories are doing. The current ”back to work” regime is a scandal, and more than anything, this film made me even more furious at the Tory p’tahks implementing it. This film exposes the savage reality of what is currently going on; we should all watch it and get angry.

I just watched Trainspotting again. Believe it or not, I had only seen it once before, but between my recent ruminations about Danny Boyle and thee sequel coming out, I thought I had better give it a second watch. What I just found myself watching, however, wasn’t quite the film I had expected to see. I had prepared myself for something gritty, hard-hitting and real; something about the dark, violent world inhabited by heroin users. Yet, to me, something about Boyle’s film did not ring true this time around: what it was trying to depict was not what it was depicting. The characters, especially the narrator Renton, all seemed too articulate and self aware. There seemed to be a sort of irony at the core of the film, and I can’t decide whether it was intentional or not: these people were supposed to be down and out, scum of the earth, on the fringes of society; yet they spoke and made references as if they had been to university. They had a bourgeois feel to them, even though we are supposed to see them as vermin. Was this irony deliberate? Was boyle trying to make a statement? I found myself fascinated by this question, this tension. It’s as if the director is reminding us that we’re watching a film. Boyle could have made these characters far more gritty, far more real, but instead he gave them a selfawareness one does not find in real smack-heads. They thus loose some of their authenticity, but was that intentional? And if so, what was the point Boyle was trying to make?

The strangest, coolest think keeps happening since my accident last Saturday. Whenever I’m out and about, people keep telling me that they heard what happened and asking me how I am, even when I don’t know them. Earlier this afternoon, for instance, I was about to go through Maryon Park when the park keeper there stopped me. He said he recognised me, asked how I was, and told me that if I had any more trouble from these kids I could tell him. I found it quite humbling really: it made me feel part of a community, one which is aware of what is going on, and which looks after it’s members. Yet things like that have happened again and again over the past week. The way in which people seem to care about what happened to me last Saturday reassures me. London is not just a collection of dispassionate individuals one often takes it to be; as big as it is, sometimes it feels like one vast village.

Equador has just elected the world’s first wheelchair-using head of state. According to this article from the New York Times I just came across, ”When he assumes office next month, [Lenin] Moreno will be the only head of state who needs a wheelchair to get around.” I think that’s rather cool, and certainly a step in the right direction (forgive the pun). At least it shows some of us are still opening up and becoming more inclusive, rather than sinking back into hatred.

I think I need to flag this up today. I was thinking recently about the power of film, and how a great film can have a profound effect on contemporary society. Think of films like Gandhi or Long Walk to Freedom: film is a uniquely powerful medium with the ability to change minds. Going back to the EU debate briefly, I began to think that what we on the Remain side could do with is a film. We need to take back control of the discourse, explain how we feel, change minds, and get the referendum result overturned. What better way to do this than with a powerful, hard-hitting, emotive film which makes our case clear.

Initially, I had something fictional in mind: a feature film, perhaps directed by the great Danny Boyle (he’s still my god), apocalyptic and dystopian, spelling out the consequences of this disastrous decision. But then I posted my idea on a Remainers Facebook page I’m on, and got the answer that someone is already working on a film. A documentary rather than a feature, Postcards From The 48% is being made by Guerilla Films. Directed by David Nicholas-Williams, it will present ‘our’ viewpoint, interviewing Remainers to allow them to explain why they are so passionate and angry. It looks very promising indeed, and pretty much exactly what we need right now. The outists are trying to shut us up, demanding that our view is now irrelevant and that we should just keep quiet. They are obviously worried that, as the shit hits the fan like it’s already starting to, the Remain camp will gain traction and the result will be overturned. But that is precisely what needs to happen, and why films like this [b]must[/b] be made. I sincerely hope that Postcards From The 48% is just the first of many such films, and that it will empower a movement which will see the Uk reclaiming it’s rightful position in europe.

A bit of cheerful news on a bright and cheerful day (and after recent events I could do with cheering up). I just got wind* that all the speculation can now come to an end: Daniel Craig will play James Bond in at least one more film. If you ask me, this is great news: Craig is probably the best bond, playing him as close as possible to the character Ian Fleming created. The only question is, by the time this film comes out, will he be too old? That of course remains to be seen, so for now I’m rather optimistic, and glad to see this issue resolved.

If only all the other issues could be this easily resolved.

*Just linking to the Chester Chronicle out of sheer randomness.

My foot feels much better this morning than it did yesterday, and, although not quite back to normal, is well on the way to mending. There is, however, a detail which I left omitted from my entry yesterday which I’ve been urged by my friends to address. When I was going down the road, heading for the zebra crossing, I passed some kids who like to try to taunt me. This may have caused me to speed up. I try to ignore it – reacting in any way only encourages them. Yet it gets to me: they see me as a source of fun; it feels as if they think they have a right to belittle me. I suppose it gets to me. On Sunday they were out in force, acting as if they were gangsters owning the streets, when in fact they’re just little twerps with no idea what the real world is like. They had been doing it all day, and it was getting irritating. I was therefore trying to get to the park as quickly as I could, and that may have had a causal effect on what happened. As I say, I was going to ignore it, but I’ve been encouraged by my friends to write about this aspect of what happened.

Yesterday was not such a great day. It started well enough: a decent blog entry written; skyped my parents; had breakfast, and then razzed round to the park for coffee. I was there for a while, talking to my friends and listening to conversations. Lyn was supposed to meet me there, but after a while when she didn’t turn up, I nipped back home to see where she was. I needed to pick up my coat anyway.

When I got home, however, L wasn’t here. I reasoned that she must have set out already, and headed back out. There are two ways to Charlton Park from our place: one is up a normal, boring suburban street; the other is through Maryon-Wilson park, a pretty piece of ancient woodland. Lyn usually takes the far more interesting latter, so I thought I’d take the shorter path and meet her on the main Woolwich road. The two routes come on to that road at different spots though, so when I got there I looked up the road to see if I could see Lyn. I couldn’t, so started to head across the road here when BANG!

A mass of red flashed in front of me, and I suddenly felt an intense pain in my foot. A bus had hit my footplate. Had I been any further onto the crossing and I could easily have been killed. I had assumed the bus would stop for me, but it was going too fast.

What happened after that is a blur of police, paramedics, ambulances. Paul came with me to the hospital, where my left foot, throbbing with pain, was checked over and X-rayed. Luckily it wasn’t broken, only bruised. It hurt like hell, and still does. I felt such an idiot – I should have been more careful. More than anything, though, I felt lucky to be alive: had I been any further onto the road, the bus would have hit my side with full force, snd it would have been game over.

Yesterday was a lovely day, despite the occasional shower. Lyn suggested we go for a walk, something I was certainly up for, but when she proposed trying to make it all the way to Welling, I was a little more apprehensive. I think of Welling as miles away, and usually take the bus; but Lyn wanted to get a special toothpaste from a chemist there, so, after a coffee at the cafe, we set off.

Lyn lead the way, down towards Woolwich, then on to the common. Whenever we felt a few spots of rain we took cover, but even so, in the clean crisp air it felt great to be out. We then headed down Shooters Hill Road, so evocative of it’s long history. Along there, you pass many historic buildings – old churches and converted asylums – which just make you wonder about the past.

We made good progress, and our little adventure down the ancient Roman road did not take as long as either of us expected. After a while, with a wood on one side of the road and a golf course and small farm on the other, it felt as if we were heading out into the countryside. Memories flooded back of the walks I used to take in cheshire, up Giantswood Lane, and it felt wonderful. In that moment, all I felt was peace and happiness. I was heading through a lovely area, with my girlfriend, to whom this type of exploration is still quite new. Paths and winding roads lead off to one side and the other, begging further examination.

We got to Welling in really good time, and I made a mental note to head that way again soon. We passed good old Welling Mobility, shut by that time on a Saturday, and found the shop L wanted to visit. Luckily, they had the toothpaste she was after, and we bought some. By then, though, it was already getting a bit late, so rather than try to come back by chair we got busses. But now we know what wonderful walks are to be had that way, I think we’ll soon be heading there again. There is plenty to explore: roads and buildings which caught my eye and made me curious. Now we know how feasible heading that way is, I’m just itching to strike out for Welling again.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to play Pac Man around your home town? Now you can. Some bright spark at Google has had the great idea of creating a Pac Man mode for their maps. Go here to see. I think it’s a genius idea, and can see myself having hours of fun on it. This sort of quirky use of technology really appeals to my sense of humour, and brought a huge smile to my face when I came across it yesterday.