I can not decide whether it is convenient or inconvenient to have the birthdays of two such important people so close. Today is dad’s birthday: he is a great man and a truly excellent father. I cannot let his birthday go by without noting it on here. I know I haven’t always been the perfect son, and that there are times when dad must despair of me, but I have to say dad seems one in a million. He and mum brought me and my brothers up to be honest and brave, and I just want to say how bloody lucky I feel to have him.

But I am, of course, doubly lucky: not only do I have dad, not to mention Mum; I also have Lyn as my girlfriend. It’s her birthday tomorrow; Lyn has to be one of the most amazing people I have ever met. I find her just as exciting, courageous and kind today as the day we met, and I thank my lucky stars that she tolerates me and my antics. I must record again here how dearly I love her.

Indeed, I love both these people more than words can describe. I will probably be blogging about Lyn’s birthday specifically soon, but for now I wish both my father and my fiance the happiest of respective birthdays.

I must say that I am truly astonished that Ken Clarke is still in a position of power this evening, and what’s mire is said to be ‘laughing off’ calls for his resignation. Now, we all know by now what he said: he implied on national radio that some cases of rape were less serious than others, and later that he thought the term rape was sometimes added to a story to hype it up. Is it me, or do these words sound like those of men who think that some women almost want to be raped, and often bring it on themselves? Such notions are of course, repugnant, and easily dismissed when placed under any form of scrutiny. The bigger question, then, is what the hell is still doing in office tonight; surely it casts doubt over this entire farce of a government for David CaMoron to allow Clarke to stay. He seems to be saying ”don’t worry about ken, he’s just speaking his mind.” I must say I have started to see CaMoron as very patronising indeed, in his attitude to ed Miliband and the public at large; this just adds to that impression. CaMoron is ignoring public opinion and acting like he knows best. This entire situation is repulsive, and for Clarke, this antiquated, bigoted misogynist to go around acting like he’s done nothing wrong and that it is public opinion which is wrong, once again appals me.

I would like to try something new today. My blog is usually text only, with the ocasional link, but last week at the school I volunteer at we learned about embedding videos in blogs. Today I came across the following demonstration of a new type of car door, which I think is pretty awesome, not least due to it’s potential for making cars more accessable for wheelchair users and wobbly-types. It seems rather apt that the first video I try to embed demonstrates something so cool.

[Rats! Embedding didn’t work. I don’t think my brother Luke gave my site the ability to embed videos. I’ll try again another time. Here’s a link to the clip anyway]

Dear most mighty and powerful god of London busses. Thank you for making London busses accessible after such a long time – I really do appreciate the ability to get on public transport. But why, in your near-infinite wisdom, do you allow mums with prams to fill the space? And why this afternoon in Lewisham, did you send not one but two such busses, meaning I couldn’t get home? And why did you then plant the foolish notion in my head that I could walk home, only to direct me to a ‘shortcut’ which actually took me on a long loop straight back into the centre of the aforesaid Lewisham? I must say that it is a good job I was not in a particular hurry, lest I would be burning Peter Hendy dolls in effigy. Oh bus-god, you are wise and powerful, but your ways are yet a mystery to me.

In an odd way it feels like I have been reacquainted with two good old friends. Dad brought down my old F55 powerchair, the Defiant, this morning, my newer one is still being repaired. It’s good to have one of my chairs at least, rather than a slow, underpowered temporary replacement from the mechanic’s, but at this point I must say how truly awesome I think my father is. By the end of today he will have driven for around seven hours just so I have my chair. He is, and always has been, an absolutely brilliant dad.

On top of my chair problems, though, there is something up with my – or rather Lyn’s – lightwriter. Since she got her Ipad, she has kindly allowed me to use her SL40. That too started playing up over the weekend, so it also needs to be looked at. As a result, I’m back using my trusty old SL35, so not only am I using my old chair but my old communication aid too. The funny thing is, it feels rather good: it was on these very machines that I took my first steps to independence, had my first true tastes of freedom. I remember taking Defiant up to the Swettenham arms for the first time, ordering my first beer on my own; my SL35 saw me through university, where my friends dubbed it Colin. In a way I feel quite nostalgic. Don’t get me wrong: it’s good to have the newer equipment, and I look forward to it’s return. But for now, me and my two old friends are just fine.

I think I will change my tack today – my last few entries have become far too vitriolic, not to say probably somewhat repetitive. Yesterday afternoon saw me in something of a pickle: I needed to go to Greenwich to get a couple of thinks. I kind of like Greenwich, as it sort of reminds me of Chester, and it has a good range of shops. However, I’m still using my replacement chair, so getting there was fairly slow going, and by the time I got back the battery was totally flat. Once I got home, though, my battery was not my main concern: there was no sign of Lyn or Laura, our PA. Initially I thought that they had just popped to the co-op, and would be back shortly, so I let myself in with my electric key and waited for an hour. I then started to worry.

After looking frantically, I realised I didn’t have Laura’s number. Facebook claimed Lyn was online, but I couldn’t be sure that was her Ipad and not her desktop, lying idle but still on in her studio. I left her a message anyway, but when she didn’t answer I had a somewhat foolish idea: I decided to go see if chopper had Laura’s number. The battery was still dead so that meant walking; it’s not really that far, but it’s still the longest distance I’ve walked for some time. When I got there, chopper was still at work; Angela, chopper’s wife, insisted I wait there and wouldn’t let me walk home, during which time I had really started to worry.

When eventually I did get back, having been driven the three hundred metres back by chopper’s workmate john, there was still no sign of Lyn and Laura; chopper had been unable to get through to them on his phone. It was then that I really began to worry, until I checked my email to see Lyn had emailed: ”on bus”. Those two short words made me sigh with relief, as they meant everything was ok, and a short while later I saw them both – Lyn unmistakable in bright pink – coming round the corner. It turns out that they had been to Lewisham; Lyn had texted me to rendezvous there, but for some reason I didn’t get that message. It’s a shame because dinner in a pub in Lewisham would have been nice, but at least we were both home, safe and well.

Well, I suppose it beat staying home.

I find myself becoming increasingly agitated at the prospect of the so-called rally against debt tomorrow. I know I shouldn’t be: I know that, on the one hand, people have the right to make their views known whatever they may be, and on the other, if I blog about it I only publicise their cause more. But tomorrow people plan to march in favour of Osborne’s cuts, as a kind of counter-strike to the recent protests against them. I have to say, I find this utterly contemptible: they argue, of course, that these cuts are necessary and will help avoid passing the burden of debt on to future generations. But any fool can see that these cuts are primarily inspired by Tory ideology, and are intended to enable too cut taxes. Thus those marching tomorrow do so in favour of a hugely diminished wealth fare state, an essentially privatised healthcare system and the prospect of starvation for millions of people with disabilities. I love freedom of expression, but I view tomorrows march as an event beyond contempt, derision or democratic, liberal, civilised values. People can go on such a march if they want, but don’t expect me to respect anyone who is selfish enough to do so.

I had an idea in the bath this morning. I thought it would be rather cool to google all the news articles concerning yesterday’s protests and write a short review of each for my blog. The thing is, when I got out of the bath and onto the web, I realised that there was very little coverage of it. The beeb reported it, of course, but somewhat half-heartedly: the article about it on their website seems a tad patronising, and I saw they were going to report it on their news channel yesterday, but when the link to their live reporter failed, they opted to cut away to a report about a boy who decided to wear a skirt to school.* The Guardian also has an article on it today, but that too seems patronising, and written in a somewhat pitying manner.

These are news outlets which you would expect to cover such a story, of course. Interestingly, in my cursory search I did not see anything from the mail or the express. And, having just contaminated my PC by checking the Daily Mail website , I don’t think they covered the story at all. It is as if, for the right wing press, there were no protests. Read into that what you will, but I have to say I am rather sad at how little coverage there is of the plight of us crips in the mainstream media as a whole. We are, after all, the hardest hit, but nobody seems to care.

*Something which I also found interesting, but for entirely different reasons.

I must admit I feel like such a traitor right now. Right at this moment I should be up in central London marching alongside GAD and my fellow disabled people in protest against the cuts. But my wheelchair is still being repaired, it’s lift mechanism having been broken since a week ago Friday, so I’m stuck here. The replacement chair I have simply isn’t capable of covering the distances that would probably be involved were I to go up there. I can only watch the news for reports. Earlier I watched CaMoron lie through his teeth about how the Tories are protecting the NHS when the truth is he will bring about it’s end; he and his party are poised to force millions of disabled people off benefits and onto a jobs market in which they have very little chance of sustaining themselves. Such blatant injustices make my blood boil, yet, because I have no chair, I cannot make my voice heard. I know there will be other protests – I hope to fuck there will be at least – but I can’t describe how frustrated I feel right now. Only by going onto the streets can we show our contempt for what these Tory bastards are doing.

I just watched last nights Panorama programme on the killing of bin laden, and I must say it left me with a nasty taste in my mouth. There seem to be more questions than answers concerning the whole episode, not least that of why bin laden was killed rather than captured. Was this, despite the American claims, simply a mission to take the sonofabitch out? But what troubles me most is the fact I agree with the Americans over Pakistan: I think it’s hard not to. The guy was found in a compound not half a mile from Pakistan’s top military academy; the place was crawling with soldiers. How the smeg could they not know the worlds most wanted man was there? The Pakistanis claim to have wanted him too, but obviously weren’t looking very hard. Part of me now sympathises, in a way, with those on the American right who now want to cut all ties with Pakistan, but cutting aid would only increase fundamentalism. Anyway the whole thing stinks; I suspect Pakistan’s relationship with the west is about to take a distinct turn for the worse. Can the regime there be trusted? I now find it hard to answer ‘yes’.

I cannot pretend to understand all the intricacies of the debate, but broadly speaking, there is widespread suspicion within the disabled community of the so-called charities which profess to represent our interests. It is pretty well known that Scope, for instance, has long been run by non-disabled people on the most patronising, repressive manner. In an era of protest and upheaval probably unseen since the sixties, there is a feeling among us cripples that these organisations, while claiming to represent us, are in fact, our jailers. Dennis Queen, who is much more aware and clued up about such things than I am, writes ”Self-serving multi-million companies are organising a well resourced and publicised ‘disability’ protest march, on Wedneday (11th May) as part of their Hardest Hit campaign. It is put together by the Disability Benefits Consortoium (DBC) who are trying to absorb the feisty new wave of protest against increasing discrimination and poverty. The cosortium is, for disabled people, a wolf in sheeps clothing. They are preying on the real fear and hardship facing many of us since the cuts got worse, to protect their interests.” The fear is that these organisations are only in it for themselves, and the only way to truly achieve our goal of social equality and true freedom is to represent ourselves through organisations like Dan. I must say I agree vehemently with her – we do not need such organisations, who for many years ran institutions not much better than prisons, claiming to represent us while actually representing only their selves.

Edit: Here is my friend/comrade/co-activist Phoebe’s rousing piece on the same subject, added for good measure

I think it is fair to say that the coalition is dead. The lib dems have been, predictably, wiped out in the local elections and lost the referendum on one of their key aims quite badly. I must admit I am slightly surprised – and disappointed – that the Tories weren’t knocked for six too, but I suppose that can be explained: the people are pissed off at the lib dems for delivering them into the hands of the Tories, but Tory voters will continue to mindlessly vote Tory anyway. Last year people voted for lib dems with a view to getting a lib-lab coalition, but instead they got a Tory government. It is now clearer than ever that the people of this country do not want the coalition in power. Indeed, I can quite understand why the scots voted as they did: I’d want to be independent of the jackasses in power down here too.

I suppose both the Tories and the lib dems will pretend everything is okay still, but it isn’t. The fact is the people of the UK do not want either of them in government. There are already huge cracks in cabinet. How the hell can we go on with this shambles?

I would just like to send you all here, to a most interesting piece by Miss Dennis Queen, about kissing. I agree wholeheartedly with the conclusions she draws. Kissing is natural: Lyn and I kiss regularly – it makes me feel close to her – and I see no problem with doing so in public. I am also not afraid to admit I still kiss my parents when I see them; in fact I’m proud of the fact that the kind of relationship we have lets us do so. The fact that some people find such things innapropriate or unnatural is, frankly, absurd. Anyway, go read.

I suppose it has been quite an extraordinary few days in terms of the news: first there was the royal wedding (damn, I wasn’t going to even mention that waste of time and money). Then there was the killing of bin laden, and yesterday, of course, was the referendum on AV and the local elections. It is these latter two items that I just want to write something about.

Something troubles me about the killing of Osama bin Laden. He was, of course, a deranged lunatic responsible for the deaths of thousands. But that does not justify sending troops into his house and killing him. Surely if we are truly civilised, enlightened people, the rule of law and due process should apply to everyone, no matter how repugnant we find them. Of course, we do not know what actually happened in that raid, but it now appears that bin laden was unarmed, in which case he could have been captured. There was a so-called neocon on Question Time last night saying that we were right to just shoot him, and to try him would be to award him a dignity he did not deserve. But the moment we start thinking such thoughts, that some people should be treated as less than human, we start down a very scary path indeed. As far as I can tell, by the way, neo-conservatism is a form of fascism where people say the first thing which comes into their heads without thinking it through, then claim it to be common sense. Our hard-fought liberal values and rights must be extended to all people, lest we become as bad as the zealots responsible for 9/11 and 7/7.

Talking about conservatism, with any luck CaMoron and Clegg would have got the kicking they deserve last night. I haven’t read through much of the results yet, but I hear it was a very, very bad night for the Lib-Dems. People are punishing them, and rightly so: last year they wanted a lib-lab coalition, and got a Tory government propped up by a bunch of traitors unworthy of the name Liberal. I still say our current government was not democratically elected and that CaMoron should be nothing more than a footnote in the annals of British political history, rather than the man now calling himself prime minister. For all his nice-guy image, like the neocon idiot I mentioned above, such people see the world in two dimensional terms: bad and good, poor and rich, lazy and productive. The world is much more complex, and I hope last nights election results tell CaMoron that we do not him and his band of toff morons in power much longer.

As we all know, the vote on AV starts tomorrow. I still feel fairly cynical about it, but I was watching a debate about it last night, and I realised something interesting: av forces people to think about who they want to vote for, instead of voting as they always have. it asks people to think, which is why the Tories fear it: if people start thinking, they might think about the Tories and realise what a bunch of arrogant, narrow-minded schmucks they actually are. In other words, it forces people to become more engaged with politics, rather than putting a cross in the box they always do. This means that the Tories won’t be able to rely on safe seats, which is why they’re so anti-av: it will break their grip on British politics, and they’ll become one of many parties. That’s why they want us to vote no: they’re scared of losing their grip over us all. Their motives in this referendum are entirely self-motivated: they fear true democracy, favouring the dominance of the rich over the poor – their dominance – by whatever means.

I think I ought to record something which is both minor and rather pertinent at the same time. Helicopters have been buzzing around above us all day. They woke me up this morning, so at first I thought it was somebody going either two or from Woolwich barracks. But they have persisted, and now seem to be constantly in the sky. Both Lyn and chopper think it’s something to do with the death of bin laden, and they’re probably right. We are a fair distance from parliament, but, as L just pointed out in reply to my rather inane question, there’s quite a bit of interesting stuff in east London which needs guarding. It looks like those choppers will be here for some time, then. I just thought this was worth noting for the information of those outside the capital. My, what a world we now live in.

As a blogger concerned in part by current affairs, I should probably write something about the monumental events of yesterday. The problem is, I can’t say anything that would not have already been said. Osama bin Laden is dead; we all know this. The circumstances may be a bit fishy, especially the fact that he was found in Pakistan so close to a military academy. By and large, though, I suppose it’s a good thing that the world’s most dangerous man has been taken out of the equation, save that in stead of one madman we’ll have ten coming to avenge him. Indeed, part of me suspects thee world is more dangerous now he’s gone, although I’m probably just saying what we all think. Huge though these events may be, I can only repeat here what I see on the news; like the rest of us, I can only watch in amazement, shock and horror.

I must admit I have not quite made my mind up about the forthcoming referendum on the voting system. To be honest I haven’t written anything about it on here until know because it is not a topic that catches my imagination. I’m quite sure I’m not alone in thinking this: I suspect most of the country thinks it’s a tedious waste of time. It’s not as if I don’t understand the choice before us – we have to chose between the firs past the post system, which is tried, tested, and simple, but isn’t without it’s faults, and the alternative vote system, which is a bit more complicated but produces results more representative on the views of the people. if I can, in the event, actually be bothered to go and vote – which, this election, is by no means certain – I think I’ll vote for AV. We probably do need a change. Whatever we decide, though, I suppose it will hurt one member of the coalition, which if you ask me can only be a good thing. Al in all, then, if I’m brutally honest, I suppose the biggest reason to vote for AV is to hurt the Tories. I know it’s negative, but it’s true. On the other hand, if we fail to adopt AV, the Lib dems might well fracture leaving the coalition in tatters. Thus there are possible benefits either way. Perhaps that’s whhy I’m so uninterested: this referrendum is a bit of a poison chalace for the coalition: whichever way we vote, the opposition can potentially benefit.

Last night I had an amazing yet wholly unexpected treat. Lyn had been sent tickets by a man at the Southbank centre, whom we hope she’ll be able to work with. It was for a concert, and she invited me along. To be honest I didn’t know what to expect – it could have been any type of music, any type of concert. Yet, as it turned out, it was just as much a treat for me as it was for Lyn: fate had sent us to a screening of Carl Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928) set to live music. This is a classic bit of cinema, one of the cornerstones of early film, and to get to see it on the big screen was incredible. Some of the shots were absolutely beautiful: Dreyer kept using close-ups of Joan’s face, which, to begin with, I found faintly irritating, but then I realised how emotive her face was: he used it as a refrain – a piece of text to keep coming back to. I was intrigued.

Even more intriguing was that the live orchestra did not use the score of the original film, but had composed new music for it. I think it fitted the film quite well, although, as a film buff, I must raise my eyebrow at it. It sort of shifts authorship away from the original director, which raises all kinds of interesting questions. Is it right to tamper with such a classic text? It is probably best to describe a concert like the one last night as post-modern, which allows such fusions of old and new. Indeed, I think the performance last night was very post-modern indeed, as it was the fusion of three texts: the medieval court records of the original trial of Joan of arc, mentioned in the opening film; the 1928 movie based on those records; and the contemporary score, complete with awesome-sounding electric guitars. I must say I find such a convergence fascinating to reflect on.

I think I got a lot out of last night. It gave me a lot to think about. On top of that, I got very excited when I noticed they were using an ancient reel-to-reel projector. All told, it was an incredible night for me – I can’t believe my luck sometimes.

A very quick one tonight: I ought to state explicitly on here that this wasn’t me, just in case anyone asks.

I think I will just be a lazy blogger today and direct you to two articles I stumbled across this morning. This first one concerns quite a furore stirred up online: apparently, according to one Tory MP, we crips spend too much time on twitter when we should be out finding work. Conservative MP Nadine Dorries said: ” If you Twitter all day, every day, about claiming disability benefit in one tweet whilst arranging a night out in the pub in the next […] don’t expect someone like me not to a) inform the authorities and b) tell you to get of [sic] your Twitter and get a job.” If you ask me, this is typical of the Tories – the internet is a godsend for many disabled people, allowing us to communicate far more efficiently; it lets us conduct our lives. Yet the Tories just think we’re wastrels hanging around facebook.

The second article I want to direct you to, here, concerns something just as stupid. Disabled people below the age of seventeen are being denied the wheelchairs that best suit them because of some quirk in the law which prevents them from driving class three vehicles. Many disabled kids need quite a bit of kit, such as electric wheelchairs with seat-raisers, chair-mounted communication aids, and so on. But this means their chairs have to be sturdy and heavy, and ”the 1988 Road Traffic Act not only bans children under 14 from using very technologically advanced wheelchairs – a ‘class three vehicle’ weighing up to 150kg – but it classes wheelchairs heavier than 150kg as cars, which can only be driven legally by over 17s who hold a driving licence.” This means that charities are prevented by law from giving kids the chairs that best fit their needs. How obscenely stupid is that?

Here you have two pertinent disability related articles, both examples of the type of stupidity we crips have to put up with. It seems I can still do the ”link and comment” type entry after all.

It is funny how such a corny old joke can amuse someone so much. We were talking in the garden yesterday with chopper, and the subject of sport came up. Lyn said we were very good at football. This took chopper aback: ”how do you mean?” He asked. Lyn replied that we were both good at dribbling. Now, I have known this joke since I was little; since my grandma took me and my brother Mark to thee park to play football, when I was still in my pram. Yet chopper howled with laughter upon hearing it, and today hasn’t stopped repeating it to almost everyone we meet. He seems to think it’s one of the funniest things he’s ever heard. I just think its odd to reflect on how, to those new to the disability community, such jokes can act as a release, helping them to realise that, sometimes, perfectly fine bad to laugh at disability. Chopper has become used to me, and we both poke fun at each other, yet the way he guffawed so heartily made me think he’d kind of realised something: I reckon that sometimes it needs such a corny old pun to let others know it’s okay to laugh.

We went to my grandmother’s house in Harlesden yesterday for Easter Sunday. Just like at Christmas, it felt wonderful to see everyone; although the place wasn’t quite as full as then, I always relish seeing my family. My cousin Cyril was there, whom I hadn’t seen in quite some time, and it was interesting to hear that he’s thinking about developing things for people with disabilities using his background in neuroscience.

We al had a great time, and it was good to see Lyn fast becoming a member of the family. An odd thought occurred to me though: I was struck by the contrast between the type of conversation held by my family and the type of conversation people hold down here in south London. It’s like my family live on a totally different sphere of existence to where I now live. They were talking about stuff like the housing market and the value of modern art, things which would, by and large, probably be of absolutely no consequence to most of the people I meet around Charlton. I guess this is hard to explain without sounding patronising or judgemental: I’m not trying to imply quality or worth here; it just struck me how vast the social, cultural and economic differences between some people are. I need to think this through before I write more about it, but I must say the contrast really did hit me yesterday.

This is my blog and I should be able to record what I whish on it, so tonight I want to record Lyn’s laugh. We were out in the garden again this afternoon, sitting and talking with friends. We were cracking the occasional joke, as you do. Suddenly, although it was at my expense, someone made a joke which sent my fianc into hysterics. Lyn creased up – it seemed to render her incapable. I just want to say how truly brilliant seeing her like that felt: Lyn is a bit of an old soul, and she’s been through a lot, but seeing her laugh like that – as uncontrollably as a child – felt wonderful tonight. It gave me a moment of pure joy. I know blogs are meant for political commentary or social observation, but it occurs to me that recording something so ephemeral as the joy one gets from hearing your partner laugh is just as important, for that is where our humanity lies.

If anyone is reading this, in the next few days, and you’re in England, you must be mad. Why aren’t you outside enjoying the sun? It was lovely out there earlier – Lyn and I spent the afternoon in the garden, bright sunshine streaming down. In fact it was so hot I had to put on my distinctly unstylish straw hat. I know I shouldn’t just blog about the weather – it must be the brit in me. There are far more compelling things to blog about, but I just can’t get over how summerish it feels, especially given it’s a bank holiday. Anyway stop reading second-rate weblogs and go outside for zark’s sake!

Last night saw one of the coolest evenings we have had in a good while, although it was the warmest. We decided to have a barbeque – the sun was out, the sky was clear, and I think we were in the mood for a party. Truth be told, though, I think it was chopper’s idea mostly. We decided to have one Tuesday evening, so yesterday afternoon, Chopper and I went to Asda to get some supplies. I think, though, he had slightly grander ideas than I did – I had envisaged just cooking some sausages and chicken and eating them outside with a few beers, but, thanks to chopper, last night saw us cooking a mountain of food on his whacking great barbeque with a few other friends in our back garden.

That we can have a barbeque this early in the year still strikes me as slightly worrying, but I can’t worry too much after such a great night. There was talking and music and laughter, and, best of all, the tastiest burgers I’ve had in a long while. There’s so much left over that we might have another, smaller one tonight – I can’t wait.

Facebook has informed me that today is Emma’s birthday. I know that just writing blog entries to notify the world of my friends’ birthdays is fairly dull blogging, which is why, save perhaps for charlotte’s, I don’t usually do it. Yet something today struck me: it has been a good two or three years since I saw the majority of my friends from university. As I’ve written on here before, I know this to be a natural part of the human condition; people who go to places like university or school together tend to drift apart. It’s just a fact of life. Yet Emma Avery and I were once reasonably close, and shared many cool adventures. I remember vividly the day we went bowling together. Now we both have partners, of course, and she has a small son, but it strikes me as, well, not quite sad but regrettable that we have not seen each other in such a long time, and might not do so for quite some time. With that in mind, though, I better just whish her a great birthday, and say that I hope she has a great night tonight.

No doubt most people will know that the London marathon was today. I hadn’t realised it ran straight through Charlton. I only noticed this when, a few weeks ago, big yellow signs started appearing in the village saying the road will be closed. I turned on the TV this morning and saw images of Blackheath and Woolwich; places I know very well now. I was disappointed that I didn’t catch any pictures of Charlton, although they did show the Valley football ground, which is just down the hill. I was tempted to get dressed and go watch, but I needed a shower, although later when we went to the co-op for some groceries we saw the road had been fenced off. This is, of course, just by-the-by, but I find it amazing to realise I was so close to such a huge event.

Has it occurred to anyone else that facebook is becoming the internet? I was thinking about this the other day: how can one website have become so huge that it now seems to be a significant part of our culture? I mean, so many people now use it that it is assumed that people are on it, and often say things like ”I’ll look you up on facebook” without actually establishing they’re on it. Its status can also be seen in films, I think: not only have we had quite a large film about Facebook’s creation, but characters now openly refer to facebook on screen. For instance I just heard that, in the forthcoming American Pie sequel, the characters meet up ten years after the previous film after organising a reunion on facebook. In the past, I think they would have just referred to the internet generally, rather than one specific website. How can one site hold such an enormous position in society? Where people used to say ”email me” or ”phone me” (ie use general terms) it is becoming to say ”message me on facebook”. It just seems odd to me, and I thought it worth drawing your attention to. I don’t any website has held such a position – not even myspace. Mind you, as a disabled person, I must say that having such a huge social network which I can access very easily is extremely useful indeed.

I must say that the GAD meeting today has made me very excited indeed. Blind luck, fate, or whatever has found me on the committee of a local disability action group. We had a fairly long meeting today: I was introduced to the other members, and we discussed what to focus on. As in the rest of the country, the government are planning massive cuts to many services used by disabled people. We are planning to bring the effect of these cuts to the attention of others in a variety of ways. For instance, I and another guy are going to work together to make a film, which we will post on Youtube.

There is something I must make explicit now though. What I post on this blog is unrelated to the views of GAD. That is to say, I tend to be quite vitriolic on my blog about disability issues, but these views may or may not be shared by the organisation I am now a member of and campaign for. The two things must be seen as separate. I just needed to make that clear.

Anyway, exciting times indeed! I can’t wait till our next meeting.

Something very interesting has happened, but this time it didn’t involve any television news crews. A few days ago, my social worker came to call. (yeah, yeah, I have a social worker. I know the risks, but social workers can be very handy people sometimes). We were doing a little review: I told her that I am generally very pleased with how things are going, but sometimes I got a little restless. Sometimes I feel I need something to take me out of the house – I volunteer at school, but that’s only two half-days a week. I need to be occupied a bit more, so my social worker suggested getting in touch with GAD, the Greenwich Association of Disabled People. I looked up their website but didn’t go much further. However, yesterday I got an email from then, inviting me to a meeting tomorrow. Apparently, they wanted me to get involved in some kind of sub-committee.

I was, of course, very interested, but I was not familiar with the address they gave: a place called the forum, in Greenwich. Last night I looked it up on google maps, and it didn’t seem too far away, so today I decided to do some reconnaissance to avoid being late tomorrow. Chopper was with me, so we found the place easily. We went in, and asked for GAD. A guy with a white beard was called for, and they explained, to my great surprise and joy, that they had invited me to a meeting about the forthcoming anti cuts protest for disabled people – ‘the Hardest Hit’.

I’m now really looking forward to tomorrow. I finally get to be a real activist. How much I’ll be able to help them, of course, remains to be seen. Some of what happens in tomorrows meeting might be classified, but if I can I’ll let you know how it goes. Finally, I might get to participate in some real activism!

Today marks the fiftieth anniversary of Uri Gagarin’s historic first space flight, and I just wanted to note this historic event on my blog. It has nothing to do with disability politics or anything, and anyone reading this will probably have known already, but there’s something about space travel which really captures my imagination. I think we forget today how truly monumental that event was: for the first time in human history, someone had broken free of the earth’s gravity. It probably felt like the start of a new era fir mankind, but right now it seems that the adventure has stalled. People just don’t seem so enthused about the prospect of space travel any more. I, however, continue to hope and dream: space travel, I believe, is our destiny, and it is in that spirit and the spirit of this day fifty years ago that I direct you here.

I write this, of course, as both an atheist and a Rossbiff, but I must say that the news that France has banned Muslim women from wearing the full buhrka strikes me as pretty damn stupid. As a liberal, I naturally hold two opposing points of view on this: on the one hand, I think women have the right to dress as they whish, and the state has no right who can wear what. But, by the same token, I don’t think religion should dictate dress-code either.

Once you start to think about it, this is a very complex issue. How does one balance the right to religious freedom with the right of women to be seen as equals? Women are equal to men, which is partly why France banned them from wearing something which made them appear unequal to men; but, if they are equal to men, should they not have just as much right to wear whatever they wish as anyone else? When put this way, this law is self-contradictory: in trying to defend the rights of women, France has, in fact, oppressed them more. Before this ban, all French women could wear whatever they wanted – if they chose to wear the veil, they had that right.

I know it’s not quite that simple. The fear is that women are forced into wearing the veil by their husbands, so this ban would free them from that religious oppression. For starters, that assumes women in Muslim households are utterly subservient and have no choice in what they wear or do, which I doubt is often the case. Secondly, what about a woman’s right to express themselves, including their religion. Did it not cross the minds of the French parliament that the veil is worn out of choice? Do French Muslim women not have a right to express their selves?

This is therefore a highly simplistic act. Yes, it seeks to free women from oppression, but simply to ban it is even more oppressive and intolerant. It’s counterproductive too, as French Muslims will now feel even more oppressed and thus more likely to take hardline stances. French society will become more segregated – it seems it is becoming less and less tolerant. Moreover, it seems to me that this ban has wider implications: if they ban buhrkas, have the French also banned headscarfs, balaclavas and zentai suits? Although I have major objections to organised religion, I object far more to what the French government has done. This is an extremely stupid thing to do, and will cause more problems than it solves.

I could go into this much more deeply, and I’m sure others have. I’ve just incoherently scratched the surface here. But I’m very worried about this: whatever question we might have about religion, the status of women in Muslim households, or whatever, simply to enforce this carpet ban will only lead to trouble.

I know it is two days late, but I’d just like to wish my parents a happy anniversary. If memory serves, they have been married for thirty-one years, which, in the times in which we live, is pretty good going. I’ve written on here before what amazing parents they are; even now I’m living 200 miles away from them, I’m still finding their support and advice invaluable. I can’t really say how much they mean to me without getting smulchy – if indeed I haven’t already – so I’ll just say that I hope they had a great anniversary.

I really cannot get over just how nice the weather has been for the last few days, especially given the time of year. Yesterday, when I got up, I looked out and saw one of the clearest blue skies I have ever seen. It is warm too – I was able to quite comfortably go about in just a tee-shirt for most of the day. I’m not usually able to do that until at least June or July. It is lovely – the type of weather that makes you feel happy, and the prospect of a barbeque at Chopper’s later makes it even better. I’m not sure how long it’ll last, and there’s a voice in the back of my head forecasting torrential rain come Monday and screaming ”this is all due to climate change!”, but all I need now is a Test Match on the radio and I’d be in heaven.

It would probably be rather lax of me if I didn’t direct you here, to a well-written, well-argued article by Ouch’s disability Bitch. It is about Jeremy Irons’ recent comments that smokers, as a minority, should qualify for ‘protection’ just as disabled people or children do. Ms. Bitch simply follows Irons’ argument to it’s logical conclusion. While I’m not as anti-smoking as I once was, this has to be one of the most stupid, fatuous and arrogant comments I have ever heard. I could go through everything that is wrong about this statement, but I’d probably be typing all day; besides, anyone with half a brain can see that these are nothing more than the ravings of a fool trying to defend his self-centred right to pollute the air for the rest of us. I just wanted to flag up the commotion, and add my voice to the wave of condemnation rising against irons.

I am, as you all probably know, a huge fan of Michael Palin. There seems to be something of a traveler in me, just dying to get out and go exploring. At the moment, I’m mostly just content to potter around south London in my chair; but when I find myself needing something more, I go to Michael Palin’s website. I adore his books there: they seem the stuff of high adventure, full of details of far-flung places. I logged on to it this morning, and, to my surprise and delight, I found this. I thought he had retired, but it seems my favourite surrogate adventurer is on the road again. Yippee!

Lucky sod!

Today I think I will just post a link to Simon’s new-look, revamped site. Long time readers of my blog will know that Simon and I have something of a fraught history, but he now has my respect as one of the leading lights of the disability community. Simon is utterly unique, even in a community where uniqueness is the norm, and I think his new-look site reflects this. I especially like the talking head animation which greets readers. I think it is fair to say that the website is still a work in progress, but it shows a lot of potential, and I look forward to see more of Simon’s unique perspective on disability, society and the world.

I suppose it has been a normal kind of day, by which I mean nothing particularly exceptional has happened. No camera crews or reporters came or anything; speaking off which, we’re still waiting to hear back from Channel four – whether the report on Lyn’s computer will eventually be shown remains to be seen. In the mean time, there is regular everyday life to get on with: Lyn is in her studio recording, and you should hear the piece she’s currently working on. She has taken a sample of her voice, distorted it and looped it. It’s rather exotic, and very cool. As for me, I’ve just been doing bits and pieces of writing, editing and reading. It really feels like we’ve settled down into a routine, like all couples do – it feels warm, cozy, and right.

I am going to use today’s blog entry to whish my mum a very happy mother’s day. She is, without a doubt, the best type of mum anyone could hope for – caring and warm, strict when she needs to be, and truly excellent at giving advice. I don’t see much of her these days, except on Skype; I think that’s something I’ll soon have to remedy. You know, I think it’s high time I took Lyn to see our old family home; I certainly think we need to get out of London a bit more, but that’s by-the-by. Anyway, have a great mother’s day mum – you’re still the best mum in the world.