This is just a quick note to say that today I’ll be down in greenwich helping out at the festival. I was there yesterday, mostly handing out leaflets in the market, but I did get to learn some history: the original festival, of which this is a revival, was banned in the 1840s for being too rowdy. Who knew that the people of greenwich could be so debauched? I’m kind of hoping they recreate the riot which apparently ended the thing. Anyway, I better press on, but if your in the area come have a look.

Today I think I will write something which I’ve been thinking about penning for quite some time, but have been weary of committing to my blog. It is my firm belief that conservatives and those on the right in general are less intelligent than liberals and left-wingers. I know that sounds awfully arrogant, especially coming from someone who calls himself a liberal, but nevertheless it is my firm conviction. Let me explain why.

As I see it right-wing politics places the individual over the group, but left-wing politics conceives individuals as belonging to a greater whole. That greater whole is the state. Given that, to the leftist, we are all equal, we can all contribute to the state and, in return, the state should do what it can to ensure equality. That’s why liberalism goes hand in glove with the left: the assumption that liberalism means people should be left alone to do what they want is to confuse liberalism with neoliberalism. To be a liberal is to hold that all views and ways of life are equally valid; that concepts such as class, morality and religion are arbitrary and divisive, and should thus be broken with. That requires people to come together as a community to ensure that everyone has equal access to resources. If all lifestyles are of equal value, then all people should have equal opportunities to express theirselves and attain happiness, which means equal support. Hence liberalism is of the left. It is also my conviction that the only way for us to solve problems like global warming and the energy crisis is for people to work together as one organism, rather than as individuals. they could only do this through a state system which prizes individuals equally.

The problem is people mistake liberalism with neoliberalism, which advocates the complete withdrawal of the state, leaving people to their own devices. This conservative, individualist idea leads only to the perpetuation of an unequal status quo: without the intervention of the state, unfair structures like the class system are allowed to continue, so only a minority are allowed happiness and freedom. That isn’t liberalism but its opposite: conservatism.

To return to my opening statement, to see the world only in terms of yourself, to question taxation because you don’t see why others should take your money, to try to cast doubt on well-established theories like global warming, to seek to perpetuate things like class and tradition simply because you benefit from them while others suffer, is a sign of a self-centred worldview. To me, to hold such a view boils down to stupidity, by which I mean an inability to see things from other perspectives, to think that only your needs and desires matter. To see things individualistically or in terms of your own immediate group (be that family, tribe or ‘race’) is to ignore the many other perspectives, mechanisms, histories and so on which combine to explain why the world is how it is. To refuse to accept new ideas, to try to hold back change, to object to immigration, betrays an inability to understand or to cope with difference. Such views impoverish society, which is why we, as liberals, must speak out against them. In a way that seems pretty illiberal, but if we want a multicultural, tolerant society, we must speak out against those who speak against multiculturalism and tolerance.

Liberalism is about equality and tolerance. Not pure, unthinking tolerance, but a kind of tolerance which realises that equality cannot be gained unless certain barriers are broken down. Thus true liberalism means one must be aware of oppressive forces in society: to be liberal is to think, to understand the mechanisms which explain why the world is how it is, which in turn means seeing the world in terms of the whole and not the individual. That’s why liberalism is left wing, as only a large, wellfunded social sector means that everyone can have equal opportunities. To refuse to accept the complex nature of the world, which conservatives seem unable to do in favour of the certainties of individualism, betrays an inability to understand which, I’m beginning to think, boils down essentially to a kind of stupidity. The way in which they seek to maintain the advantages of the few over the many – a few which most conservatives belong to – reminds me of children who haven’t learned to share.

If the cricket match on Saturday made me think back to Melbourne, what happened yesterday caused me to think of graduation, as I was trying to think of an event where I had felt as proud as I did. For yesterday was indeed up there with graduation day as one of the proudest moments of my life. Lyn was performing at an event up in Bloomsbury; she plays with an organisation called the British Paraorchestra, who were doing a fund-raising gig. Strangely, it struck me that I had never seen my future wife play live before: of course, I’d heard her play in her studio at home countless times, but never in font of a live audience. I could barely have imagined the treat I was in for.

The Paraorchestra usually play as a group, but last night it’s individual members got to show off their skills as soloists. All the musicians involved have a disability of one kind or another, so in the back of my mind I must admit I had experienced a few cries of ‘tokenism!’ After all, there has been this slight but persistent concern in the back of my mind that this project might look to a casual bystander like someone getting a group of disabled people in order to cry ‘Wow! Look at the brave cripples playing music!’ In other words, some kind of stunt designed to boost egos rather than create cool music. I was also concerned that the project was fundamentally anti-inclusive, that musicians with a disability should be playing alongside their able-bodied peers, not set apart from them in their own segregated orchestras. The only way for such concerns to be dispelled is for the music it generates to be as good as that of any other musical group – in other words, the project needs to stand up artistically, or else it smacks of patronisation.

I need not have worried. The members of the Paraorchestra are all first class musicians. I was utterly blown away by all of the performances, especially one blind guy who played the recorder in ways I had never seen before. The evening amazed me, and Lyn, I’m pleased to report, got a rousing round of applause. I have always said she is amazing, but last night in Bloomsbury she amazed me afresh. The Paraorchestra is an amazing group of people, brought together by talent, not tokenism, and destined, I’m sure, for great, great things. I’m sure this will be the first of many gigs I go with Lyn to, and only the start of my life as the proud other half of a worldrenowned musician.

I have another disability-related item to cover today, but one rather more complicated and more troubling. A guy called Tony Nicklinson will go to the high court today to argue that he has the right to ask doctors to kill him. Nicklinson, who has Locked-in syndrome, argues that he has no quality of life but, given that he cannot commit suicide on his own, wants the right to ask doctors to legally end his life. Needless to say this case has me in a quandary: on one level, I agree that disabled people should have the ability to do anything they whish, which of course includes topping theirselves. But on another level, I must say I find this story very, very disturbing indeed.

I don’t want to sound like a right-wing moron going on about the sanctity of life, and nor do I seek to tell others what they can and cannot do, but frankly, to hear this guy go on about having no quality of life fills me with rage. I suppose it might be slightly different for those who become disabled after birth, especially people who had previously lived very active lives, but having seen people far more disabled than he is relish life to the full, I find what Nicklinson says absolutely cowardly. It is as if he thinks that, now he is disabled his life is worthless, as he can no longer do what he once was able to. When I hear him speak I think I detect a touch of disabledist baggage carried over from his previous life. It is as if he thinks that now he has a disability his life is over as he can no longer do the activities he once enjoyed. The implication of this, at least in my mind, is that he thinks people with disabilities live lives which are less worth living.

Indeed, should he get his way and the law is changed, I fear that is the message which would be sent out. For starters, the general public might start to assume that we all think like Nicklinson does – that we all think our lives to be unbearable and want to top ourselves at the earliest opportunity. Such a change in the law would thus devalue the lives of all disabled people, and under the right circumstances it would be fitting and right to kill us. Such a prospect mortifies me, and to hear a fellow disabled person advocate it using the language of equality is horrifying. If we think it through, such a judgement would open a pandoras box of concerns for other disabled people as well as fundamentally changing how disability is perceived. What Nicklinson is doing, then, is selfish in that he doesn’t seem to care about the implications of what he is asking for for other disabled people. He just wants to end his life without caring that A) he can still do all the activities that he used to, given the right support, B) there are people with far more profound disabilities than his who would probably be appalled at what he is saying, and C) he may find using his communication aid slow and laborious, but he is bloody lucky to have such equipment and can communicate at all. I keep thinking of all the people I have known over the years, far more profoundly disabled, who would never stoop to such self-pity, so to see this guy spout such lachrymose drivel fills me with bile. At least he had the chance to do all the things he did and, who knows, might one day do again.

On one level, perhaps a general one, Nicklinson has a point: people with disabilitites should have as much freedom as anyone else, including the freedom to end one’s life. But to see it in such terms is far too simplistic: effectively legalising murder, albeit with consent, leads on into far darker places. The freedom to ask to be killed is something quite different to, say, the freedom to decide what to eat or where to go. It has profound consequences following on from it, as well as raising the prospect of people actually being coerced into asking for death. Should the law be changed, the value of the lives of all disabled people would be downgraded and seen as something barely worth living. Murder must therefore remain murder, and Mr. nicklinson must learn to be content in the body he has, as the rest of us do.

I heard today, as I’m sure we all did, that Jack Osbourne has been diagnosed with MS. Apparently, Multiple Sclerosis is more common in young people than one might think. I just thought I would flag it up here as a bit of disability-related news. After all, it isn’t often that someone with such a high profile enters into the ranks of us cripples; I’ll be interested to see how he copes with it, and how his condition is now treated in the media. I’ve already seen a segment on the bbc news channel about other people with MS. Of course, I hope Jack’s OK personally, but I also think this presents us with quite fascinating opportunity to observe and learn something about societies’ relationship with disability.

Today I could not help but think of a day five years ago in Melbourne. That day, like today, was bitterly cold; I remember sitting at the test at the Melbourne cricket ground, watching in desperations as England lost to Australia. I could not help but think back to that match today as I sat in the park watching Blackheath have their not negligible score of 151 eroded. I had intended to stay to the bitter end, but it grew too cold and too dark, and I began to miss the girl I love. Cricket is an amazing sport, and I can spend entire days watching it, but today, like at the test in Melbourne, other factors took precedence. Unlike that day in Melbourne though, when it was only the bitter cold which made the return to our hotel room so welcome, today it was mainly the thought of returning to Lyn which drove me homeward.

Sometimes freezing your arse off just ain’t worth it, especially if the woman you love is at home.

Rather than writing anything else today (I can’t really write the rant against CaMoron I’d like to, as he didn’t really hand us the self-damning testimony we’d all have liked yesterday) let me just wish my mum a happy birthday. As I keep saying, I don’t see mum much these days, except on skype; she and dad were and are wonderful parents, and I do miss them, just as any child of a loving home will inevitably miss the securities and certainties of his youth once he goes out into the world. But time passes, and I am independent and free, making my own way in this maelstrom. I have my own life and my own family. And yet it still feels good to call ‘home’, to Skype my parents, to see them sitting at the same kitchen table I sat at for so many years, sipping tea from the same huge cups they have always used, and to know that they will always be there, at the other end of a webcam.

Happy birthday Mum!

Not to be outdone by lyn’s music, I just came up with this short poem. Perhaps we could use them as lyrics in something: Sharing your life makes me so happy you are the one I’ll one day marry

‘Love me’ you say. But you are you

And I know our love will forever be true Nowhere on earth I’d rather be than in our bed, with you by me.

Although you’ll have to sign up to soundcloud (it took me about five seconds tho), Lyns latest track, ‘Love Me’, can be found here. It is, in my opinion, one of her best pieces to date, although I’ll have to ask her what the title is a reference to. We are planing to make a video for youtube to go with it, but in the meantime enjoy.

Not too much is going on in the world of matt and Lyn today. I went to school, then over to greenwich to see if I could volunteer again at GAD or something – I really do need something else to get me out of the house. GAD no longer takes on volunteers, but they directed me to the volunteer coordinator nearby, with whom I now have a meeting on the 21st. Anyway, short of much else to write about I thought I’d submit this for your attention. It is a review from Ouch of a film festival in leeds which has a high proportion of disability-related films. Most of them sound interesting and might well be worth a look.

Coming from a liberal this may sound pretty hypocritical. Mind you, as a liberal one must always be conscious of and negotiate the paradox of liberalism – tolerate everything, only be intolerant of intolerance. I heard today about the church’s objections to gay marriage, and was struck with rage. It’s a complicated argument of course, and I can’t pretend to have heard all the perspectives, but what gives religious people the idea that they have the authority to pronounce who can and cannot marry? Leaving aside the fact that marriage is an outdated and often repressive institution, the fact remains that, if two people love each other, then they should be free to hold any ceremony they wish. After all, as I learned today, the concept of marriage is not fixed; it has evolved over time. There are no set rules governing what constitutes marriage, so in these postmodern enlightened times, the idea that a bunch of conservative bigots who think they can force their narrow-minded ideas on others by invoking a book of bronze-age fairy stories should be allowed to dictate who can and cannot marry appals me. If marrying and having the status of a married couple makes two people happy, then let them. I don’t see how that effects anybody else, unless some feel the urge to impress their homophobic beliefs on others so violently that they seek to oppose equality, ay rights and minority rights in general at all costs. Frankly, part of me wonders why we are still listening to the church at all, when, if you think about it, what they say is based on outdated beliefs and discredited myths.

I don’t like to just repost images I find on the ‘net here, but this one is just too brilliant for me not to.

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Does it not strike anyone else as rich that the tories are trying to blame the economic woes in europe for the lack of growth in the UK when, when Labour was in power, europe had nothing to do with it and it was all Brown’s fault? That is surely classic tory, and classic CaMoron. When I saw Osbourne utter this hypocrisy on the news earlier, I almost laughed out loud at the cheek of it. Our current lack of growth is entirely down to the drastic cuts currently being imposed upon us, but rather than admit that their ideologically-inspired ransack of the state is making things worse rather than better, the tories choose the nearest scapegoat, even when, when it really was the fault of external markets, the blamed the very man who prevented the crisis from being ten times worse. anyone with a memory of more than five minutes will surely see this hypocrisy, and despair at the pack of cheeky, lying sods we currently have in power.

Having visited the replica of the Endeavour myself in 2007, I am fascinated to read that she is once again at sea. She is currently on day 11 of a voyage to observe the Transit of Venus – the very thing cook set out to do. Thus I find reading her log online glorious; it’s good to see that people still have a sense of history, and good to see that people can still do such crazy things. I hope all goes well, and that that wonderful ship gets back to sydney safely.

Apologies again for yesterday. I was rather disappointed not to see Lyn on the one show; my hopes were so high it was quite a let down when her face did not appear. I was quite perturbed, in fact – so much so that I wrote to the beeb to ask why Lyn was cut. They replied that the length of the film had to be shortened so stuff had to be cut out, including the part with lyn. It’s a shame: to me, Lyn is an utterly remarkable woman deserving the attention of the nation, if not the world. I want everyone to see what an incredible, unique person my girlfriend is.

Although part of me suspects a slight whiff of transphobia in their decision, on a practical level I suppose I can understand their reasons for cutting lyn rather than someone else out. Portraying an interview with a VOCA user on screen requires more work in editing out all the gaps and pauses than just using one with a vocal person. Mind you, I was interviewed on tv once: back in ’99, granada news came to film my class for winning a wheelchair display competition, and I did a brief interview. If memory serves, that went very well indeed: they handled my interview quite well, editing it so I came across as fluid, eloquent and spontaneous. I was hoping they would do the same with lyn, but no such luck. Oh well, it’s not the end of the world: let’s just say we have one or two surprises for you all to look out for yet. The world will be introduced to the amazing person that is Lyn Levett yet.

Sorry I’ve made so many shortish entries recently – this will be another. I would just like to flag up that I have it on good authority that Lyn will be appearing on the One Show tonight, which is on bbc 1 at 7. Please watch if you can. I can’t wait.

Not one to be outdone by the real thing, and following on from my entry yesterday, the spastic queen has made this jubilee address.

I suppose it is fair to say that I’m in two minds about the monarchy. I can certainly see it’s good points: having a queen, I usually say, is part of our national identity. Yet yesterday, as I was watching the river pageant on tv and thinking how beautiful it was, it suddenly struck me that, on quite an important level, it was utterly stupid, obscene even. All this money and effort, in the middle of a depression, to ‘celebrate’ an unelected old woman becoming head of state sixty years ago. If you think about it, why do we need the monarchy? It is a symbol of everything that I usually despise: the undemocratic figurehead of the class system, the human representation of the idea the outdated idea that some people are born to rule. Why should that be part of our national identity? Tory-types will say that the queen is ‘prepolitical’, and holds the nation together, but, when you think about it, that is utter bullshit. That is an excuse to maintain an innately unfair class system, designed to keep power in the hands of the few. They argue that the queen is just a figurehead with no real power, which is true; but she is also a symbol of inequality and unfairness – a symbol of an outdated, extremely expensive system which we all unthinkingly accept because we all swallow the idea that it is part of our identity. Why should some people be born to rule? Why should we all just accept the unfair, repressive class system so obviously symbolised and therefore maintained by having a monarchy? The tories want to keep the monarchy because they have a vested interest in maintaining the class system, a system they claim is meritocratic, but when analyzed is revealed to be a system covertly designed to keep power in the hands of the few. Isn’t it time we all engaged with such ideas, realising how oppressive they are, instead of just accepting them because they are tradition? Why do we accept spending so much on something so outdated, especially these days?

I suppose I am mildly disappointed. As I wrote earlier, I’m not really a monarchist, but I do have a liking for boats. As is well known there is a huge flotilla on the Thames today, the biggest in 250 years, and part of me fancies the idea of going up there and taking a look. But, as is also well known, the weather is not that good, so I think I’ll stay in and watch it on TV. Although I’ll probably get to see more if I stay in, I’m also gutted: I’m a Londoner now, and thus I’m in a better position than ever to go see such things. Living in Cheshire, central London was at least three hours away; now it’s a simple tube ride. It just seems a wasted opportunity. Then again, I was out much of yesterday, and the day before, so it’s high time I paid Lyn some attention instead of romping round London.

I’m also disappointed not to see Endeavour in the flotilla. The replica of Cook’s famous ship would have been a great addition to the show. She is my favourite boat, having visited her in Sydney, and I would have loved to see her again, this side of the equator. Had she been here, rain or no rain, I’d have been up there like a shot, Lyn preferably in tow. But the skies grey and Endeavour remaining in the south seas, I’m content to stay home. I’ve a feeling today will be a good one anyway: not because I get to see any mighty ships, but because I’m warm and safe where I belong.

I’m not really a monarchist, but then, nor am I particularly a republican. I don’t have much to say on the subject, but in honor of the Queen’s diamond jubilee, and given my fascination with all things 007, sending you here seems appropriate.

Why is jeremy hunt still in his job this morning? By rights, after his appearance at the Leveson Enquiry yesterday, he should be gone. The man broke the ministerial code, and if david CaMoron had any honor he would have given Hunt the boot. Or are we all supposed to believe that, despite admitted to having sympathies with the Murdochs he was able to act impartially? Really? I was sitting on the sofa yesterday, watching the coverage, almost buursting out into giggles. Frankly, though, it says a lot about the Tories: they are almost treating us with contempt by expecting us to swallow such bull. Why when Vince Cable admitted to having a bias against murdoch he was taken off the BSkyB job and it was given to Hunt? Could it not be because Hunt is a tory and CaMoron could count on him to make the ‘right’ decision, ie the one that suited the Tories? In other words, this is a clear case of the Tories helping out their rich pals and making sure their worldview is promoted; this is a case of the tories doing whatever they want to do now that they have power, and to hell with the rules. And on top of that, there was some tory arse on Newsnight last night trying to tell us that both CaMoron and Hunt had acted completely properly. How can they be so arrogant, and how can they expect us all to be duped by their lies?

I just want to draw everyone’s attention to the fact that the Olympic torch, also known as the stick o’ fire, passed through Congleton this morning. As luck would have it, I was up early, remembered, and was able to watch it live over the ‘net. To be honest it wasn’t that interesting, but it was good to see the town where I was born and grew up become part of such an epic event; indeed, the route ran not that far from my parents’ home, and I got a bit nostalgic for the old place.

Right now, the website is showing the drive from Congleton to Macclesfield. I suppose they must drive between towns rather than walk the whole way, the lazy buggers. Whatever your feelings about the Olympics, at least his torch relay lets us see bit more of the country.

We decided to do some gardening today – one of the bushes in our back garden has become fairly overgrown. I thought I’d have a go. Needless to say, it’s harder than it looks, but at least the lift mechanism on my chair came in handy.

Dad will be proud!

It hasn’t been a bad day at all. I spent much of it reading, From Hobbits to Hollywood continuing to fascinate, but the guys next door put some music on – loud, urban music of the boom boom boom variety – so I decided to go for a stroll. On my walk I began to ponder the history of charlton, as I often do. Despite being in the middle of one of the world’s largest and most populous cities, Charlton still feels like a village. I wondered when it became consumed by london, and when was it last a village proper – ie, surrounded by fields. Strangely, it still feels like it is. What were the boundaries of the original village.

When I came home I naturally did a little googling, but then I stumbled upon the following quote from daniel defoe, too good not to share, simply as it is a great, if slightly tongue-in-cheek, description of the village today.

[quote=”Daniel Defoe – a tour through britain”]a village famous, or rather infamous for the yearly collected rabble of mad-people, at Horn-Fair; the rudeness of which I cannot but think, is such as ought to be suppressed, and indeed in a civiliz’d well govern’d nation, it may well be said to be unsufferable. The mob indeed at that time take all kinds of liberties, and the women are especially impudent for that day; as if it was a day that justify’d the giving themselves a loose to all manner of indecency and immodesty, without any reproach, or without suffering the censure which such behaviour would deserve at another time. [/quote]

The horn fair has long since been abolished, sadly, but I can assure you the spirit behind it still lives on in the locals, and is not just confined to one day a year. A

‘collected rabble of mad-people” indeed; let me just say I have a tale or two I can tell, but would be wise not to share on a public blog. Well, good to see the place hasn’t changed since 1727; perhaps this uniqueness explains why Charlton still feels like a place unto itself, and why I have grown so fond of it.

Short of anything much better to blog about at present, and given that I appear to be turning a nice shade of red, I think I better just advise you to go here. I’m not sure how long this hot spell will last, but while it does, I intend to enjoy it; I’m going back into the garden.

Oe thing that makes a meal great, allowing you to compile a list like this, are the days that go with them, and today must be recorded as just such a wonderful day. Although I am afraid to say we lost the cricket today – and by we, I should say I mean Blackheath, who currently play in charlton park – I was there for the full match, apart from a short trip home to get my straw and take a pee. It was glorious out there again today; I had the pleasure of sitting out there in the sun for the entire afternoon. I have seldom had a more wonderful afternoon, despite the team I was supporting – and now think I’ll take as ‘my team’ – losing. Sitting there, out in the park, sipping beer and watching a run chase, I was at a loss to think of anything finer or more perfect; the only thing missing was lyn at my side, but she finds cricket dull. Oh well, you can’t have everything, although it means I have something even more wondrous to return home to.

Staying with my filmic/artistic mood, today I think I’ll direct you here. I’m currently reading a book on the Lord of the Rings films called From Hobbits to

Hollywood: basically a collection of essays about the film. Thusfar I must say I’m enjoying it, although some of the collection are better than others. This essay is on a similar theme, and although shorter and not quite as academic, it is no less interesting. It is an argument that the Scouring of the Shire should not have been dropped from Jackson’s films; I had never thought about it, but, now that I have, I must admit I’m quite convinced. the scouring is an important lesson in the books, showing that nowhere is safe, not even the idyllic Shire. It also shows, as the writer points out, the character progression of Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin. In the other hand, the films are often criticized for having too many endings already, so I can see why Jackson left it out.

You know, its funny. As a teenager I was obsessed with tolkien; growing up it was often all I could think of. But then, one day, I grew out of it and moved on to other texts; even my love for books morphed into my love for film. Sitting on the sofa yesterday, reading, it suddenly occured to me that thins had come back to Tolkien somehow, that my old obsession had somehow merged with my current academic pursuits. There is something rather ironic in that, and I can’t decide whether t’s a good or bad thing.

I finally got round to watching the trailer for Skyfall today. How it has eluded me before now I’m not sure, but it did. Now that I have watched it, though, I’m not sure what to make of it: it didn’t quite send me into the fits of squeals such things usually do. Bond’t quite seem bond in it: he seems a different character, somehow, from the last two films. That could, of course, just mean they’re taking Bond in a new direction again, which I suppose must be seen as a good thing given that originality must always be welcomed. It could also mean, I suppose, that I’m becoming more critical and discerning, but we’ll have to see about that one. Mind you, I was interested by the fact that. in one of the trailers I saw, someone had rather clumsily tagged on an ad for the video game too, This irritated me, to be honest: films and games are different cultural artifacts, and should be treated as separate cultural entities, yet they have somehow been conflated in popular culture; they form the same audiovisual nexus – the same Lacanian Symbolic, in a way – so that one medium is seen to blur into another and anther, turning texts into commodities perfect for depriving people of their cash. That has been noted before, but what irritates me is that the ‘gamers’ have reached the point where, to them,film and game are the same thing: they enter into the dupe. All I am saying though, is that I want a film to be a film again, an artistic text, and not a video game, happy meal, or whatever. At the same time, it is interesting to observe how such art forms are evolving and merging, especially online.

Lyn’s birthday went without a hitch, although I will just say that I must remember to organise a better meal for her next year.

On a completely unrelated topic, I stumbled across this yesterday, which seemed too stupid for me not to flag up. I mean, I know I should be above such things, but in a fight between darh vader and Gandalf, Gandalf will always win. As for my reasoning, I can only point to the fact that gandalf is a 5,000 year old demi-god, and vader is the creation of a hollywood hack with as much talent and originality as my little finger. End of story. Mind you, this film does seem rather well made it must be noted, and ties in too to the musings I made in this entry.

I find myself simply wanting to repeat my blog entry of a year ago, as nothing has changed. Today is my dad’s birthday, and he is still absolutely the best father anyone could wish for. And tomorrow, of course, is Lyn’s birthday, who remains the love of my life. Both these people I love dearly, and I count myself very lucky indeed that they are both part of my life. I hope they both have amazing days!

Today is fast turning out to be another glorious day. Lyn and I had a late breakfast in a local cafe, then, while she headed home, I went to watch a bit of the cricket in the park again, after which I decided a short walk was in order. ‘Short’ turned out to be a misnomer, however: after a meander through the park, I decided to go take a look at the river. Not far from here, there is a lane called Anchor and Hope Lane, which runs alongside the Thames; it has beautiful views across the mighty river, forming, as it does, a part of the river walk. I think they have renovated it slightly recently ahead of the Olympics.

London and her river looked serene today. Interestingly, while I was up there I had my first look at the new cable car. I had thought that was still in the planning stage, but it now looks like it is almost ready. Indeed, while I was there they started to test it: it looked quite fast. No doubt it ill be slower when carrying passengers, but even so I can’t wait to have a ride on it with Lyn.

After that I took a brief look at what was happening at the dome, and then wended my way home. Not such a short walk, but I find such strolls useful for clearing my head, thinking, and getting to know a city I now love even more intimately.

Sometimes the best days are those I better not blog about, or wouldn’t know where to begin anyway. Yesterday was just such a day. You’l know all about it soon enough, but for now let it suffice to say Lyn and I are involved in something very big. Well, Lyn is – I just go with her for the ride. Mind you, it’s shaping up to be a hell of a ride! Just stay tuned, as they say; this is going to be awesome!

While I don’t think I would go as far as equating what the Tories are doing to the Nazi T4 program, as such comparisons usually just work to make one seem far too militant, I think I’ll just direct you here, to a call to arms by Bob Williams-findlay. It is certainly true, of course, that people with disabilities are being hit hardest by the cuts; the cuts have indeed caused deaths. Thus such a battle-cry is needed; as Williams-Findlay writes: ”We MUST mount a resistance, fighting cuts and oppressive policies, is not enough in relation to this ideological onslaught – it is a State run ‘hate campaign’ and more and more disabled people will die.” We must all unite under a single banner and combat this foe together; that is, after all, why there needs to be an ‘us‘ and a ‘we’. I just fear that using language that is too strong, going too far in our comparisons (and, the flying spaghetti monster knows, I can be just as guilty of that as anyone) might actually alienate people who would otherwise be on our side, putting people off by looking like a bunch of teenagers moaning for the sake of it.

My dad came to visit us this morning. It was great to see him, talk a bit, and eat lunch together. While he was here, he read to me a few pages from Pomerance’s The Horse Who Drank The Sky. Dad has a fine reading voice. He only read a page or two to me, but in a way it would have been quite hilarious if he had read a page or two more. I read on to myself after he had left, and got to a passage concerning the filming of Antonioni’s ‘Bow up’ (1966). As shown here, there’s quite a famous scene in the film set in a park – a park not a stones throw from where we were sitting. Blow up was filmed in Maryon park, and in fact pomerance describes walking there himself in 2005. I could have taken dad there myself, shown him the very scene described in the book. But, nevermind, that walk will have to wait; I’ll just have to go myself, if only to celebrate finishing a great book. Interestingly, though, pomerance describes a spooky aesthetic to these scenes: what he did not mention, possibly because he did not know, was that this was part of the ‘hanging wood’, where highwaymen were put to death in the nineteenth century. What a place to set a film about a murder. To those who do know, I personally think this fact adds another eery dimension to the scenes in question, and certainly complements what Pomerance was suggesting, although that might just be an historic irony.

I must say how concerned I am about government plans for disability living allowance. While I think it safe to say that Lyn an I fall well over the threshold for qualifying as needing state benefits, I have come across, in some quarters of the disability sphere as well as outside of it, a notion that too many people are claiming it who are just lazy. While I have come to expect such tosh from the political right, would you believe I have heard fellow crips starting to suggest some people claiming to belong to our community shouldn’t, and are jumping on the political bandwagon yet have no experience of ‘real’ disability, whatever that is.

I have no idea how widespread such views are; I hope they belong to a tiny, easily ignored, minority. The ,moment one disabled person starts casting doubt on a fellows’ right to call themselves disabled is the moment our community begins to fragment from the inside, and that must not happen. A forty year old with CP has no more right to call himself a member of the disability community than a twenty-five year old diagnosed with bipolar last year, simply because they didn’t go through the hell many crips went through in the 70s or the special school system. Such thinking is just plain wrong; I find it abhorrent, and, while I know freedom of speech is sacrosanct, part of me says that such voices must be countered lest they be taken as something other than the tiny, ill-informed minority they are.

Yesterday was quite a glorious day: just after noon I went for a walk, and found a cricket match in the park. If you ask me, there is simply nothing better than sitting on the grass watching a good game of cricket. To be honest I decided to come home after a couple of hours as if I had stayed there I would have started drinking. As it turns out, Lyn wanted to take a trip to Woolwich anyway.

If getting to watch some cricket was not glorious enough, The Lord of he Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring was on Channel Four Last night. Despite cherishing that film, I rarely watch it, so last night I indulged myself. I still say it is a masterpiece, and, while it isn’t an absolutely faithful reproduction of the book, I am extremely greatful to Peter Jackson for staying as true to Tolkien as he could. Just think of the mess it may have been if a lesser director got the rights to it, or the Disney corporation. Mind you, a version of LOTR directed by, say, quentin Tarrantino would have been interesting.

Thus I was very happy at ten last night, having reacquainted myself with an old friend. I turned the TV over, looking for the news, only to discover some girl with a dog had won britain’s got talent. The contrast hit me hard, being instantly transported from a masterpiece of post-classical film to the banalities of saturday evening tv; from a world intricately and beautifully created by Tolkien and Jackson, to a world in which people have voted for a not-that-talented woman doing some tricks with a not-that-talented dog to win half a million quid. I can hardly think of a greater juxtaposition, although it wasn’t enough to spoil such a glorious day.

Rather an odd thing happened today which I think I should note, although I’m not totally sure it did happen. I was on the 422 bus to Bexleyheath; it must have been around half three as there were a lot of school kids around. I was in the wheelchair space, facing back towards a group of teenagers at the rear of the bus. At first I paid no attention to them, or very little; but then I began to overhear fragments of their conversation: they were saying things like ”That’s the guy…” and ”That’s him”; I also think I heard them say the word ”Tutu” once or twice. Is it possible, I wonder, that they recognised me from Spastic Ballet on YouTube? The chances of such a thing must be infinitessably small, but the thought thrilled me: are me and Lyn, in a small way, now YouTube celebrities? The video has over fifty thousand views now, as well as a couple of duplicates, so it is not outside the realms of possibility. They may not have been talking about me, but if it turns out those kids were, and I am indeed famous for dancing around in a pink tutu, I might well die laughing.

This has nothing to do with anything in particular, but if you ever want a bit of creative, lighthearted fun which doesn’t require too much brainpower, go here. Plink by dinahmoe is one of those natty little websites which lets you make music with your friends. I just came across Lyn and mitch on it; Mitch told me how to join in, and I was hooked instantly. Check it out – it’s probably good stress relief.

I am still pondering yesterday’s incident in the park. After she read my blog about it, Lyn wisely pointed out that those boys couldn’t help acting as they did, any more than I can help having cerebral palsy; getting angry and aggressive won’t help. She’s right, of course, but it’s the intolerance of it I can’t stand: the unthinking intolerance which dictates difference must be stamped out. Mind you, it occurred to me earlier that the irony is, they don’t know the half of it: had they seen me in my tutu and tights, or at least known what I had on under my trousers, they would have had an aneurism.

I know I should have ignored it, just as I knew I should have ignored it yesterday, but the thing is, as I once wrote here, I am proud of who I am. Lyn and I were just taking a walk; it’s a reasonably pleasant evening – the first in a while, in fact – and we needed some groceries. We thought we would couple the shopping trip with a walk in the park. It was going well enough, when we encountered three late teenage boys. I should have recognised them: they were the same three lads I came across when out and about yesterday, one of whom had shouted ‘Retard’ at me. Then I was with chopper, who had a word with them.

They did the same today. I know I should ignore it, I know they do not know any better, but I really don’t like being the but of some child’s joke. Fool that I am, I saw red and tried to chase them. Of course, that only made things worse; it only encouraged them. I got the impression that they were trying to score points with each other, trying to look big and manly in front of their pals. That would mean that, given that it looks like they live around these parts, I can expect more of it. But part of me just can’t just roll over and take such abuse; it makes me so angry to hear them laugh at me, as if for all my accomplishments, for my degree, for my more-or-less independent life, I am nothing but a figure of derision, some ‘retard’ in a chair, there to be poked fun at by kids who will probably never achieve what I have. It’s something I must learn to take, and next time I know I must ignore them, but for me that seems easier said than done. Mind you, its the thought they might take the piss out of Lyn which really angers me.