Out in the garden again, an abstract to do

A productive day, though. A distraction or two

Wouldn’t go amis. So here we sit

You on your pad, I on mine

Not talking, but that’s fine

Just being together after a days stress That’s all I need…that and your caress

First of all, let me just wish my mum a very happy birthday for yesterday. Secondly, let me wish dad happy father’s day for today. We saw them both last night: Lyn and I went to a very nice meal with my parents, plus Luke and Yan, at an indian restaurant in north London. It took a whilee for us to get up there so we were quite late, but despite that I had a great time: Lyn and I told them all about our holiday, and I think they appreciated the books we got them as joint presents. Seing my little brother and his lovely wife was great too. In all, then, it was a great night out with (most of) the family; I always think such nights reset my batteries, allowing me to refocus by keeping me grounded. Above all, I hope my parents have a great weekend.

Today I’d just like to direct you here, to some of the most inspirational, life-affirming words I’ve read in quite some time.

[quote=”Alan Larson”]. It took me until about the 5th and 6th grade to recognize that walking was actually a prison and that a wheelchair was where I might experience some sense of the freedom ambulators felt. And when I got that wheelchair it was TOTAL FREEDOM! [/quote]

People think our chairs imprison us, but they set us free; people see disability as a curse, but we are proud, strong and happy.

I just have a small little incident to record today, which although fleeting, troubles me. I as just in Woolwich in a book shop. As I was making my selection, I overheard the girl at the check out talking to a customer: apparently they had had a ‘Help For Heroes’ poster in the window, but had been told to remove it by someone who threatened to wreck the store if they didn’t. That is all of the conversation I caught, but, given the areas recent history, I find it worrying. Of course, I do not know who made the threats: one must resist leaping to conclusions. It is too easy to assume they were made by so called immigrants. Yet I fear this signals a deepening of ethnic tensions in Woolwich stemming from the murder of drummer rigby, and if that is the case, it heralds troubling things indeed.

Lyn took this on sunday night as we sheltered from quite a heavy storm. Happy times, although after two days work, they already seem quite a while ago! [img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/marseille1.jpg[/img]

Incredibly, Lyn was back at work in her studio when I got up from the sofa to bid her good night last night. I don’t know how she does it – I was completely shattered by then. It had been a long, frantic few days: to be honest I have no idea what to write about our trip, where to begin and how much detail to give. Probably the first thing to say is that we ha a lot of fun, but it also has to be said that there were down sides too. Marseille struck us as quite a dirty, rather dilapidated city: I got the sense that it was once great and proud, but had falen into disrepair. The streets were far from clean; it was noisy and busy. That is not to say it was not beautiful: I really loved some o the classical French architecture – the quaint streets and the quintessential houses which all seemed so higgledy-piggledy. We had so much fun exploring them. We were also struck by the lack of authentic local quinine: fast food outlets and pizza shops were all too abundant.

We also enjoyed going outside the city. On sunday we went to L’estaque, a small fishing village not far to the north, where we saw a strange sort of jousting on boats. They had special, longish boats, each with five or six young boys in them, with a raised platform at the stern. The boys took it in turns to stand on the platform as the boats tilted at each other, and the boys tried to nock his opponent into the water. It looked like great fun. After watching this game for a while, we walked further up the coast: I was again taken with the architecture, this time because it was defensive. It looked to me like there were once a couple of castles there, guarding the port. On the way back, e stumbled upon ‘Yes We Camp’, an ecological village of performative architecture built just outside L’estaque, built to mark Marseille 2013. It was a very cool place, reminding me of a cross between a hippy commune and Alsager campus.

There we had a beer, and it was also there that we took the opportunity to get online. It is strange to think how important getting online now is to us, and this trip really drew my attention to that fact. Our hotel had no internett access, so for the first time in my life I felt eager to go into a Macdonalds, simply in order to use the free Wifi.

It was also at L’estaque that, whilst I was blogging, I lost the now famous bet that I could not prevent myself from saying sorry. Dom made it, I think, to draw my attention to the fact that I keep apologising, and that if you overuse certain words they loose their meaning. However, a few hours later he relented and let me have a beer.

The next day we went out late, having had what can only be termed a crazy night. It had involved some heavy rain, a fairly drunk guy who approached us in the park with a snow-white dog called Bob, and rather too much alcohol.We took the boat to les isles des Frioul, a stunning island not far fro the city once famously used as a prison. Now, though, it is a nature reserve full of interesting rock formations. We spent a happy couple of hours there (John took a dip in the sea) before buying dinner and getting the boat home. That evening was somewhat calmer tan te one before, but we did see some pretty cool live music in a bar not far from our hotel.

So that’s it: home again, and back to work. In all I found it quite cool, although, given that Marselle is not the most accessible place in the world, nor frankly the cleanest, I think we’ll be going elsewhere foor our next holiday. But if you don’t go, you never know. Indeed, now we know that it is possible for us to go on such trips, hopefully many more will follow. I just hope I can break the habit of constantly saying sorry.

On the train back into London, and the skies are once again bleak. Shame. It has been a brilliant few days. Of course, I will write a full account of our holiday tomorrow: I have so much to tell you about, from watching people dance in a park at midnight to exploring a beautiiful island to encountering a dog whose name we think was Bob. For now, though, let me just assure you that we are all safe and well, and that once again I find mŷself feeling a very lucky man to have such a wonderful life.

I must go down to the sea again

To the lonely sea and the sky

For all I ask is a tall ship

And a star to steer her by.

And some girls

..,And maybe a few beers too.

(poem composed waiting for the boat back from les isles des Frrioul, a beautiful island off Marseill, where a blissful afternoon was just spent.)

Dominik has bet me that I won’t be able to keep myself from apologising for an entre day. If I don’t utter the word ‘sorry’ before midnight I get five bottles of leffe, but if I do I can’t drink for the rest of the trip. Sounds easy, utt I habitually say sorry constantly. Anyway, we are currently sitting in the bar of the camp for the organisation behind Marseilles capital of culture: it is a pretty cool place by the sea, with free wifi. Lyn and I take advantage of internet access when w can get it. I was just typing this entry when Dom commented about me already using the net, and force of habbit made me blurt out the S word. Damn!

Marseille is a fascinating place, full of culture and life. It feels like a cross between north Africa and Spain, not that I have ever been to either place. We are having a (soft) drink before an evening of exploration, but I will just say I already feel amazed at how different this place feels to anywhere I have been before.

Today is the day upon which our adventure begins. Lyn and I fly to france today, to Marseille,just for thee days. To be honest I’m rather nervous about it, as we haven’t really planned this trip – our accommodation was only finalised yesterday afternoon – but I’m also excited. It feels like an adventure; not one of those sanitised, thought-out things you go on with your parents when you’re little, but the type of thing those with able bodies and a strong sense of fun go on. Of course we are going with John and dominik, who seem like they can handle any situation, so I know we’ll come home in one piece.

So this is it: pretty soon things will get going – one last bit of packing, then we’re off.I just can’t wait to see the sights and sounds of a different city, a different culture. I’ll try to post entries on here while we’re down there, just to let you (and in particular my parents) we’re still alive. I can’t guarantee that, though: we might be having so much fun that the thought of blogging goes out the window, finally breaking my blog-a-day regimen. What a pity! Either way, when we get back I should have a tale or two to tell. What such tales will be, I have no idea, but I can’t wait!

he Accessible Leeds Show is a new disability themed podcast presented by Nathan Popple a bight young communication aid user whom I know from Onevoice. The first show is planned to be published here in the next month or so, and will definitely be worth checking out. Well done nathan and well done Leeds!

Today’s random(ish) link is this one The beeb is reporting that ‘Researchers have harnessed the power of thought to guide a remote-control helicopter through an obstacle course. The demonstration joins a growing number of attempts to translate the electrical patterns of thoughts into motions in the virtual and real world.” I think I have made a post about this before, but it seems they have finally cracked telepathically-controlled machines. Quite apart from being completely amazing, as the article says this has implications fot people with disabilities, allowing them to control things around them. We’d be able to be much more independent. Imagine a thought-controlled vacuum cleaner, or even a car. Mind you, I think today Lyn would like a device which just kept me out of her studio.

I know I should probably write something about the queen today, about her sixty years on the throne, and about how innately undemocratic it all is. We could go over arguments about how the very concept of monarchy has no real place in the modern world, and about the stupidity of throwing billions of pounds of taxpayers’ money into supporting a family which did no earn their power or position, yet lords over us all, thinking that they were born to rule. I could, and perhaps should, rail against the innate innequality of it all, and about how the queen in many ways symbolises everything I usually loathe. Yet I can’t: The truth is I have a soft spot for the old cow, even a grudging admiration. She has been doing a job she didn’t ask for for sixty years, day in, day out. You might reply that she could abdicate, true, but in my book that deserves at least some respect. In a way she has been a constant in most of our lives; I must admit she has been a benign, reassuring figure to me (mind you, thinking that way is probably how dictators stay in power). She has also been in my good books since her olympic entrance. Thus whileI know I should do the good leftie thing and denounce everything the queen stands for, I’ll pare you that rant, and just say that I hope the queen and everyone else has had a good day, now that the sun is finally out.

Today I feel duty-bound to direct you here, to a very brave and stirring statement from George Rolph. He is in Day 14 of his Hunger Strike, which he is doing for others going through what he has had to endure: persecution at the hands of atos. His story, like many others I have come across, is horrific, and can now without hyperbole be called persecution. They are actively victimising those with disabilities, trying to force them off benefits, while the right wing press portrays us all as lazy scroungers. I applaud him, but find it very worrying indeed that people ar now being pushed into such action.

This image struck me as quite astute. You know, it’s only because of the media that we worry about things like terrorism. Without it we’d exist in blissful ignorance, worrying about things pertinent to our own lives instead. Plus I daresay it will amuse Lyn, given my habit of crashing out in front of the box all evening. [img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/terrorism.jpg[/img]

Woolwich today was a vision of peace. The only raised voices were those raised every Saturday by stall holders, broadcasting their wares. I persuaded John to push me down there, still being powerchairless, curious to see the famous BNP and EDL march. I had joked to Lyn that I was out to find something to blog about. When we got there, though, I almost wept: children played on bouncy castles as their mothers, some in islamic dress, looked on; music was being played, ice cream was being sold. It was a vision of Britain far truer than that of any thug: content, inclusive and serene.

The only clue at all that something may have been afoot was there was a group of four or five police officers off to one side. I rolled up to them, and asked them about the protest. They explained that it had been cancelled, and I cheered: true britain had prospered over a fascist bastardisation of it, and there was nothing else to do but enjoy the peace, continue our walk and try to find something else to blog about.

It has been a log slow day really, but, I’m pleased to report, a productive one. I knuckled down and did three hours solid work on my thesis, going through the entire first chapter. Before that, however, I had the idea of creating a new group on Facebook: the Woolwich defence league was created as a reaction to the fact that fascists like the BNP an EDL are trying to capitalise on the murder of Lee Rigby. They must be stopped – they are planing a march in woolwich deliberately to stir up trouble. Frankly, I would prefer to keep south London fascist free, so I created that group as a form of resistance to such thuggishness. How successful it will be I have no idea, but I just felt I had to do something to show my disgust at he usurpation of this soldiers death. If you’re on Facebook, please join.

It has been a bit of a nonentity of a day: a day of chilling out, sorting things out and not going out. Truthfully I don’t have much to write about, but I’d like to flag up this outstanding filmed conversation between the artist taxi driver and Mo Ansar, in which they discuss how prejudice and devision is currently being whipped up by the government and ukip etc. I know it is lazy blogging on my part simply to yet again direct you to a Youtube video, but this one really is a corker, and the participants are to be applauded. It i reassuring to see someone still talking sense.

A little musical treat today: this is simply too cool (and by cool I mean absolutely sub-zero) for me not to flag up. Sir Christopher Lee, one of my favourite actors and all-round top guy, has apparently recorded a heavy metal album. I never expected him to do such a thing, but if you think about it, his deep baritone voice makes a great juxtaposition with an electric guitar, and his smooth, dark demeanour goes well with the general mise-en-scene of metal. That’s why I thought this awesome news: the image of saruman atop Isenguard with an electric guitar in his hand keeps popping into my conscious; now, how rock ‘n’ roll would that be?

Perhaps I was too quick to wax lyrical about the local mood. John and I were out today, just getting the groceries up at Asda, and I am pleased to report I detected none of the tension I probably imagined I felt a couple of days ago. Greenwich is the same as it ever was. And yet I was worried to see on the news today that several monuments and war memorials in the capital have been daubed with the word ‘Islam’.

I must admit this both worries and interests me. It is crude, even patronising: it was obviously done my some half-brained member of the EDL, BNP or perhaps UKIP, hoping to stir up Islamophobia. Why would any Muslim spray the name of his own religion in such places? If they were that way inclined, wouldn’t they be more likely to spray some pro-Islamic slogan? Thus it is surely blindingly obvious that this graffiti was done by some Islamophobe. But what does that mean? It implies an eagerness on the right to stir up trouble, to create tension; this is an attempt to manipulate us all that the xenophobes have a point. The irony is, it is so crude and obvious that it should backfire: it lays bare the depths to which these far right thugs will stoop, and the simplicity of their thinking. Hopefully nobody will be taken in by this laughable ploy. The problem is, it reveals an absolute hatred, a willingness to defile one’s own national monuments (things which, to nationalists like those in the EDL, will have great significance) in order to stir up inter comunity tension, and the profundity of that hatred scares me.

It is already shaping up to be quite a nice day. The sun is out, and rather strong. My parents were just here, paying us a visit: funnily enough, John and I were en route to the shop in order to get supplies when they came round the corner. We were expecting them, of course, but the coincidence meant we could go to the shop together. Now that I come to think about it, it was probably the first time I had been shopping with mum in well nigh a decade. Anyway, once we got back, we spent a happy, and I daresay fruitful, two hours talking: two of the results were my chair will soon be sorted and I have a clear plan of action for my Master’s thesis. God I love my parents.

Now though it’s me and Lyn again. She is back at work in her studio, and I’ll probably rea a bit after posting this, but this afternoon we plan a barbecue. We got the supplies for it this morning, including probably too much beer, so between a great visit from my parents, a good read and the prospect of a few burgers later, this really is turning into a good bank holiday.

I like sundays – well, sundays like this, mostly spent reading on the sofa or out in the garden. Quiet days upon which Lyn and I just enjoy each others company, under a clear blue sky. They remind me of sundays back up north, of spending hours in the conservatory reading the sunday times. It was on sundays, too, that my favorite programmes were on t.v, like Michael Palin’s travelogues; and indeed tonight there is a show about Australia I’m looking forward too. Yes, there is something about sundays I like – something homely and wholesome, like the feel of mum’s roast lamb in your stomach: I just felt it, out in the garden with Lyn, so that, for a moment, I was the most content man in the world.

Something odd is afoot on the streets down here. You can almost feel an evil near an ill intent in the labyrinthine lanes

Where fractured communities play separate games

Eying each other with growing suspicion

But resist! This must not be the condition:

The moment we let such fear take hold

Those who spread hate are made bold

So do not allow such devision to reign

For then, those who hate have won the game.

Part of me is relieved it is raining so hard. If it wasn’t I would have been feeling enormously frustrated about now: the urge to just pop to Woolwich would probably be quite unbearable, but given my chair is out of action I’m stuck home. Truth be told I’ve been feeling it all week – I just want to go look around, experience the atmosphere for myself. I don’t know what I expect to find down there, and yet I am very curious.

You see, people in these parts seem to be different. People have unusual attitudes in this part of London, anti-establishment attitude which won’t come across in the news bulletins. Thus I want to go out, wheel about a bit, and listen to what people on the street are saying. I daresay there will be things we are not being told on the beeb, things about the soldier, or the alleged perpetrators. I want to go into pubs, to hear what the men are saying. Gossip will be rampant, but I’m curious about the mentality locally. Is islamophobia increasing? Are people feeling scared or angry? There is probably a wealth of material out there for me to blog about — as a writer I’m just itching to go out there to find stuff to post on here.

But I suppose a broken chair means that urge must be resisted. It’s probably a good thing – I should, I know, keep my nose out of things that are not my concern. Yet, as when the media circus came to Crewe, having such an event so close brings out the journalist in me, and the part of me which wants a piece of the action. The best I can do right now is ask Monika to push me in my manual chair to the co-op and back, but even there I’ll warrant tongues will be wagging.

I feel that I have a duty to note that I heard this morning that my friend Lee Mayer’s dad, Alan, die today. I hard it this morning. You will recall that Lee himself died in January. Lee was a good friend, and I met his father a couple of times: he obviously cared deeply for his son. I was in two mind about noting it – what could I say, after all? – but I have a duty to my school friend to honour his dad, or something. It just seems awful: between that and events in woolwich, things seem a little dark right now.

Just after lunch today I returned to my computer, intending to simply potter about a bit on facebook before returning to the sofa to read. I was browsing casually before I noticed my neighbour harrison’s status: he mentioned a shooing in Woolwich. At first I thought little of it: woolwich is the sort of area where trouble is not infrequent. But then the concern was echoed by his mum, Paula, so I decided to investigate.

Thus I have watched the story grow throughout the afternoon, with increasing concern. It seen became clear that this was anything but a minor incident and at about five I turned on bbc news. I was greeted with shots of Woolwich, swarming with police. It’s strange to see a place one knows quite well, and indeed so close, the site of such national concern: helicopters were – and are – beaming back arial shots of roads I know well. There is currently a car embedded into a two-legged lamp-post which, simply out of fun, I always take care to go under than around. That is a minor point, of course, but one I can’t help but reflect on.

Lyn and I have spent the day at home. My chair is still broken but had it not been, and had the nationwide branch in woolwich still been open, there is a good chance that on a day like today, I could have been driving down that very road at the time this attack – now said to be an act of terrorism – happened. That is a very sobering thought indeed.

To honour the birthday of Lyn, the most wonderful, kind, patient and generous fiance a guy could wish for, I’d just like to direct you here.

Behold my wonderful birthday-girl hard at work in her studio, even on her special day. Love you hun!! [img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/lyn at work.jpg[/img]

Today is my dads birthday, and tomorrow is lyn’s. I find it curious that two of the most special people in my life have birthdays so close. Without dad I wouldnt have had the upbringing I did, and without Lyn I would never have moved to London and seen how much potential life truly has. Thus, in entirely different ways, dad and lyn made me who I am today (the large role my mum played notwithstanding). All that I can do is wish them both the best of birthdays, and record that I love them more than I can say.

It has been another of those quiet, chilled out sundays. Apart from some work on my thesis this morning, I haven’t really done much. Lyn has been busy at work in her studio. Mind you, I did come across the beginnings of something interesting earlier: I had known about Star Trek: Of Gods and Men for a while now, but,, arrogantly perhaps couldn’t be bothered to engage with it. I finally gave it a viewing this afternoon. It’s strange: it is a version of star trek which is not the official version, as made by paramount, but which has many of the original actors in it, so you can’t call it fanfiction either. It sort of merges the two genres in a way, which interests me greatly. Like fanfic it takes an original text and adds to it in a way the original creators might not have intended, yet it has many actors from the original. I suppose it can be seen as a type of ‘official fanfic’, yet I still feel a sense of subversiveness to it, as if it’s makers were trying to tell paramount something. To my mind it almost yearns for the reinvigoration of a moribund franchise.

Either way, it seems to me that this might be the beginning of something. Textual play is opening up: we saw a good example at the olympics with bond and the queen. Like fanfiction, and like Of Gods and Men, that sequence can be seen to both add to, play with and pay tribute to an original text, for instance referencing/reusing the Union Jack parachute jump from The Spy Who Loved Me; but like the latter and unlike the former, it was semi-official, using original actors in their original roles, so it stands apart from usual, fan-made textual play. Indeed, given that it would be inappropriate for her majesty to appear in an actual EON-produced Bond film, Happy and Glorious is as near as it possibly could be to be to being a ‘real’ bond film; it therefore cannot be lumped together with the usual type of fanfic or textual play*. Could both be instances of a new kind of postmodern artistic movement, one which plays with established texts in new ways? Both constitute the breaking of accepted barriers. Could textual play itself be becoming mainstream? Now that certainly is an interesting prospect. after all, if bond can meet the queen, then why not anything else? Why can’t a borg cube fight an imperial deathstar, or Gollum poke harry potter in the eye?

*Mind you, as soon as one says that, one enters into debates over whether this was or was not bond. We know that ‘real’ 007 films are made by EON. This wasn’t, so therefore it can’t be a real bond film or part of he character’s history. If it is, then one must consider other bits of fanfic to be just as canonic (even if the rules of cannon in the fan studies sense do not apply to this franchise as they usually would). For instance, it would follow that ‘Never say Never Again’ should be accepted into the fold. At the end of the day, however, given that he official, current Bond actor was used, together with the bond theme and a firmly established bond meme in the flag-emblazoned parachute, to try to argue that this was not Bond or a huge tribute to the Bond phenomenon because it was not made by EON would be absurd. After all, although not official bond films, things like Never Say Never Again attest to Bond’s cultural position simply due to the fact they exist.

According to click this week, Bing translator can now translate things into Klingon. Trekkie that I am, I loved the idea, and, rather than making the effort to find anything more substantial to write about, I thought I’d share the following with you:

” DaH blog qaStaHvIS tlhIngan vIta’laH! cool, wIjuS? rejmorgh yIDaQo’, English Hol yIlo’ jatlhqa’ wa’leS. Qapla’!”

It still intrigues me how different parts of this vast city feel differently, so that different areas seem like entirely different places. Lyn and I ere just in Bexleyheath doing the weekly shop. Marta kindly drove us there as my powerchair is currently out of action. It’s quite a distance, and o get thee you have to go down shooters hill road. A certain stretch of that road hasa wood on one side and a golf couse on another, so you can forget you’re in a city. It’s strange – it feel like you’re entering a totally separate place, not London, but another, smaller town. Bexley is, of course, officially part of kent, although I still see anything within the M25 as London. Yet strangely it feels like a small market town, much like Congleton, where I grew up. I’ve experienced this all over the capital, and I’m fascinated by places so close can feel so different, unique and separated. I suppose this is part of the magic of the metropolis; this vast microcosm where so many places are also just one.

Today I would like to direct you here, to an E-petition calling for the resignation of Colin Brewer. A councillor in cornwall, Brewer apologised and resigned earlier this year after commenting that ‘disabled children should be put down’, but was re-elected earlier this month. I’m sorry but I don’t want such a scumbag anywhere in government, local or national. He likens kids with disabilities to farmyard animals which, if ‘misshapen’, are shot. I deeply resent that equation: as a child I was not useless, and nor am I now. Frankly I can’t think of anything worse: the thought of any child, disabled or not, being murdered just because some arrogant little man deemed it ‘useless’ chills the blood. Surely those who think in such narrow terms have no place in government.

I may have attacked the Daily Mail in the past, but this article about the effects of coalition cuts on people with disabilities is well-rounded, humane and well worth a read. While I am hesitant of it’s talk about morality as it is a subjective construct, it paints a vivid, harrowing picture of what life will be like for many of ‘us’. As it says, Condem Britain is a place ”[w]here our Members of Parliament kick 12 bells out of vulnerable people but allow the extraordinarily wealthy to leap through tax loopholes designed to protect their already huge stash.” and where, it goes on ‘some are so materially rich that if they lived to be hundreds of years old – and never did another days work in their lives – it would not dent their coffers and others die for want of a warm bed and a regular meal.” As the writer notes, ”such disparities are obscene”. This overt oppression of those with disabilities by the government must stop. Who knows, now papers like the Mail are publishing such articles, maybe the tide has turned.

I feel absolutely obliged to direct you here, to perhaps the most impressive online review of a film I’ve seen in quite some time. I found a reference to the site, Red Letter Media, in one of the comments to Mark Kermode’s film about cyber media. In that, Dr. Kermode starts to look at the relatively new field of online film reviews: such reviews seem to be taking over from reviews in traditional media, so we are seeing a sort of democratisation of film criticism. People are trying to take a cue from writers like Roger Ebert ad Kermode and really engaging with film. Thus I thought I’dd google one of te sites mentioned, and what I have already seen is quite staggering.

While it lacks the engagement with discourses such as psychoanalysis, Marxism and feminism one often finds in the cinephilia pioneered by the writers of Cahiers Du Cinema, and thus lacks that philosophical aspect (I was reading Zizek yesterday, so I’m into the Lacanian stuff again), this sort of review shows a highly impressive engagement with film. It is a type of close textual analysis where plot holes and inconsistencies are picked up upon (plot holes being, according to Keathley, one possible basis for cinephiliac moments). It is clear that the creator of this review knows his subject back to front: I’ve seen First Contact hundres of times, and he reveals stuff I have missed but, when pointed out, strike me as obvious. I cannot help but be impressed by his level of understanding and attention to detail. Thus whether this is cinephilia in the acdemic sense I’m not sure, but it is certainly part of a new hybrid discourse, a new type of engagement with film; selfreferential, more than a little sarcastic, a tad crude, but no less engaged with cinema.

Blue sofa, how I know you?

Seat of my belonging, my reading, my watching

The hours I spend in your embrace

After returning from this or that place.

Blue sofa, metonymy for home

For safety and warmth,

And, large and comfortable, for love.

Can one truly say one has lived until one sees a polish dude playing the didgeridoo in an empty swimming pool in London? If not, then last night I lived for the first time. We went to see Dominik and his band play up in north London, a a place not far from my grandmother’s, as it happens. it was quite an awesome evening: there was quite a lot going on at the venue, such as very interesting piece where five performers stood in a room, singing yet reacting to those watching. It was really freeflowing and dynamic. It reminded me of how Tolkien discribes the creation of the world, with the gods singing to each other; so much so that I played an extract of the Silmarillion on my Ipad. Dom’s piece was next, more musical but still postmodern, set, as it was, in an empty swimming pool. Interestingly, one member of the group used a device which allowed him to control his instrument simpy by thinking. Dominik was playing the didgeridoo he bought on our trip to Brighton, giving it an australian feel. I was struck by the eclectic feel of it, and the odd combination of elements – very cool indeed.

After that we went to the after show party, and danced the night away. That turned out to be quite epic to, as it became an all night affair. We didn’t get home until about six. It reminded me very much of university – the performances were quite like those I saw at university, and the after-show party was a lot like Brandies (including the bit where I nodded off in my wheelchair). All told then, a really good night out…I’m knackered.

If I may briefly put my artsy hat on again today, I discovered earlier that another Star Wars film has been commissioned. Now, I have nothing against franchises – in fact my favourite movies are franchise films. I ADORE Lord of he Rings, Star Trek and, of course, James bond, and you don’t get much bigger than the 22 film, fifty year 007 saga. Yet star wars is different: I just get the feeling that they are churning out new ones for the sake of it, or just to make money; it has nothing to do with art or story telling. The six films of he LOTR franchise will tell the tale of the finding of the one ring and it’s destruction; the bond francise is concerned with the exploration of bond’s character. It ask who is this lonely government assasin, examining his personality in many ways. You could have argued that the six existing star wars films can together be perceived as the tragedy of Anikin Skywalker. That has already been accomplished: we have seen his birth, rise and fall. I therefore wonder why the franchise needs adding to now the story has been told. It is like an artist going back to a painting and adding to it again and again, unti the canvas becomes a brown mess. It just seems a base money-making ploy to me, with very little artistic integrity.

Yesterday was another interesting day, albeit of a completely different type to wednesday. I went up into London, to a talk Lyn and I had been invited to. Abilitynet were hosting an event to Google Campus about finding better ways for disabled pople to access the online world; we were invited because Lyn and I had participated in the accompanying ‘Look No Hands’ film. In the event, Lyn was feeling tired so I went on my own, and I must say it was quite an interesting afternoon. There were demonstrations of many cool things, such as how Google’s new glasses can be used to enhance the lives of disabled people. The current trend seems to be focussing on the ways mainstream technologies can be adapted to help disabled people rather than making bespoke, expensive devices; the obvious example is the way the Ipad can be used as a communication aid.

It was all rather interesting, but towards the end of the event, during the ‘discussion’, something ironic struck me. It was quite academic and dry – people there didn’t seem to grasp how vital the technology they were discussing was to certain people. They were being academic and thorough, of course, treating it as they would any other branch of technology; yet it seemed to me that, without the things they were discussing, people like myself would be leading much more barren lonely lives. I don’t blame them for talking as they did, but the mismatch between these two realities, seemed odd. In a way it seemed like they didn’t realise they were setting people free.