Sir, I write to demand that you stand down as prime minister immediately. You were not elected democratically to that position in the first place, and it is only due to an act of treachery on the part of Mr. Clegg that you gained office. I find your actions over the past half year woeful: you are cutting services many disabled people like myself rely on, while pandering to your rich financiers in the City. I find the concept of a ‘big society’ nothing more than a shallow con, nineteenth century politics wrapped in twenty-first century jargon, and deeply rooted in free-market ideology. You are cutting services too fast and too hard, and every time it is shown how deeply you are hurting the ordinary people of this country, you trot out the lie that you had no choice.

For it is indeed a lie – a shallow, despicable lie for which you should bee removed from power. I demand that you stop perpetuating this falsehood. It was labour which steered us into a boom after 18 years of mismanagement, and labour who got us through the recession. For you to now try to con the country into thinking the ideological cuts you are choosing to implement are the fault of the previous government is nothing more than a deception – the weasel-words of a conman who charmed his way too power, and is now systematically undoing every good thing implemented over the last thirteen years. For this reason among others, you and your party are unfit to rule the united kingdom. The damage you are doing means you have nothing but my utter contempt. You gained power through the actions of a man unworthy of the party of Asquith and Lloyd-George, and immediately set about reopening class divisions. You are hurting the people of this country in order to please your rich backers. I demand that you stand aside and call new elections.

M Goodsell.

I felt a distinct shudder go through my spine when I first read the headline of this article, and the more I read the worse that shudder became. It is now apparently ‘unsustainable’ for the government to fund disability benefit: due to the cuts, there is going to be a twenty percent reduction in DLA. More and more people are going to be pushed off benefits and into work. This is not helped, of course, by an increasingly vitriolic tabloid press painting most disabled people as workshy scroungers.

They claim, of course, that those who need the most ‘care’ won’t be effected. I guess that means people with severe physical conditions – people like me and Lyn. We both need help with day to day activities – bathing, dressing eating. It occurs to me that, ironically, we are both more suited to work than those who may need less traditional help. I think, with the right adaptations, we could both do jobs – I have been doing a voluntary job at the local school for over a year now, and Lyn has skills as both a musician and webmistress. Yet we are less likely to be forced into work by those with, say, more emotional conditions, whom the authorities will look at, see that they can wash dress, feed themselves and so on and say ”You can do x, y and z. Off benefit and into work you go” without taking other things into consideration. Such ”other things’ may seem small to an assessor with a checklist of criteria and a quota to fill, but may be the difference between life and death to an emotionally fragile person. People with such conditions will be suddenly denied benefit and forced into work, at which point many will see no option but suicide.

I write this with utter serious. These cuts will effect the most vulnerable in society the hardest, and I find the lack of sympathy in the right sickening. The cuts they are implementing, and their lack of tolerance for people they simply dismiss as lazy fakers, utterly disgust me. To describe caring for some of the most vulnerable people as unsustainable caries with it overtones of some of the worst chapters of human history.

I know I shouldn’t simply link to stuff that has nothing to do with my blog, and that anyone is perfectly capable of finding theirselves, but I think today I’ll direct you here. Last night Bill O’Reilly interviewed president Obama, and I must say it makes for fascinating viewing. To be honest, when I heard about this interview this morning, I was eager to see sparks fly. However, it is actually a fairly sensible interview, and Obama deals with the right-wing nut job fairly well. Mind you, I sometimes wish someone would put morons like O’Reilly in their place, but although he is intellectually more than capable of doing so, Obama declined the opportunity. Anyway, go watch.

Just a quick one today. I just got wind of the utterly momentous news that my friend Tony is now a dad. Tony and I were friends at university. In fact I value him one of my best friends, although I rarely mention him on here. I remmber him driving me and charlie down to stoke to see Casino Royale in the cinema when it came out, and I remember going to film seminars with him. My gut reaction was one of shock, but now I come to think of it, I cannot think of a nicer, more caring fellow. Tony shaw will be a great dad.

There was an item on the local news last night about a painting by Gaugin recently selling for ten million quid. They made a bit of a deal about what an enormous sum of money that was, especially in this age of austerity, and indeed they had a point. Yet later in the show they spoke unquestioningly about footballers transferring from one club to another for five times that sum? How is that right? Yes, you could argue it’s only a painting, but like all art it has meaning; it is part of art history, which is intertwined with the history of ideas; it can be analyzed and has intellectual depth. Ten million is a lot – just think of how much communication or mobility equipment that could buy, or how much aid for Africa – but it just might – and I stress might – be worth it. What is manifestly not worth it, and is actually quite sick, is giving some football club 50 million for one of their players, then giving the footballer just as much simply to kick a ball around. The whole culture surrounding the game is wrong, and if I had the power I would start it all again with new players, clubs and managers, and a transfer fee limit of a tenner.

My blog passed the 500,000 hit mark yesterday – people have now visited my site over half a million times. I know that, given I’ve been blogging for about eight years, that’s not that special, and that the major blogs and websites get that in a week, or a day, but for me it seems a major milestone. To be honest, I didn’t really expect to keep blogging for thus long, but, as I wrote on Tuesday, something compels me to write down my thoughts every couple of days, and I can’t see that abating.

Looking back over past entries, my blog seems like a real miscellany of ideas and topics, as well as a record of my life over the past eight years. When I first began blogging, I was still living at home with my parents, finding topics online to blog about, or recording the day to day occurrences of the Goodsell household. Things have changed quite a bit since then. I’m rather pleased my blog spans my time at university, for it gives me near enough a full record of one of the happiest times of my life. Uni supplied most of the dramatis personae of my blog – people like Charlie and Ricardio and Steve, whom I mention quite a bit, and who have starred in some of the best entries. But there will soon be more characters to introduce, including a man known somewhat disconcertingly around these parts as chopper. As much as my blog is for me a record, it also is for me a reminder that there are some great entries yet to write. This drama is far from over. Indeed, it seems I’ll soon have several weddings to detail, not least my own!

You know, I reckon I’ve written nigh on 100,000 words for my blog over the years. I think that’s pretty good going. Granted, they are a cripple’s ill-informed ramblings, largely uncoordinated and haphazard, but I’m proud of most of my writings here, and I’m proud I’ve kept it up. I’ll do my best to keep blogging; for some reason, people seem to want to read what I write on here.

While I ordinarily hesitate to link to or believe anything the daily mail publishes, Alan, father of my friend Ricardio, just sent me this link. It concerns the student protests in the autumn, and the fact that there were thieves and trouble-makers disguised as protesters there. This certainly rings true: until quite recently I was a student and I think I know their defining characteristics. By and large, students are peaceful, like a bit of music and fun, and the occasional joint. I therefore went to the protest pretty much expecting to find similar people to my friends at university, if slightly more politicized; and indeed that is what I found when I first got there. But as the day wore on, things began to change, and the dynamic of the crowd turned from that of a carnival to something far more hostile. I believe strongly that there were people in the crowd manifestly intent on causing trouble, and that their hostilities began long before the police did anything to provoke them. The daily mail article bears out that there were people there who had nothing to do with the protest, but were just there to steal, pick pockets and ruin things. Indeed, I was one of their victims. My concern now, however, is that this will detract from the very real anger felt by the majority of protesters; Mail readers can now claim that the protest had nothing to do with the government, and that the anger on show was merely caused by a bunch of hooligans. The truth is, people feel very angry at what the Tories are doing, angry enough to go out onto the streets and protest, but those protests are being hijacked by trouble makers, causing their message to be diluted and impact to be softened.

I don’t know why, but I keep wanting to blog. As I wrote yesterday, it was a pretty awful weekend – I cant’t go into detail, but it was the most terrible thing to happen to me in a long time, particularly because it hurt Lyn so much. Yet, despite this, the urge to blog – to write down my thoughts and publish them online – was still there. I don’t know what’s wrong with me; it should have been the last thing on my mind. Yet, for some reason, sometimes I just wanted to write. I didn’t have that ability over the weekend. of course, many writers have described the compulsion to write: some even claim it’s a physical urge, or that they become ill if they can’t write for whatever reason. For me, I think, it’s a form of therapy – an outlet for my thoughts and emotions. It’s like an analysts couch. I know I don’t write much, and my entries are usually rather short and crappy, but blogging is something I feel I must do. It is as if I must tell the world what is in my head or it gets too full and explodes. Either that or I’m a drama queen craving attention. It’s as odd as it is annoying.

Sorry there haven’t been many entries these last few days. Something happened friday night which I can’tt go into, but needless to say it was one of the worst events of my life. Lyn and I are both fine, and have had lots of support from PAs, friends and family. My normal ranting should resume soon, but in the meantime bear with me.

I would encourage everyone reading this to go an watch ‘Posh and Posher’, a political program with Andrew Niel.It vividly illustrates just how corrupt our politics has become: we have turned our back on meritocracy and returned to the bad old days where only the privileged few can rule. The program points out that most of the current cabinet went to schools like Eaton or Westminster, and universities like oxford? How is that fair? How can that give us a government representative of the people??? niel suggests that thee institutions produce so many o our prime ministers because they are the best and can therefore teach kids the best, which i indeed problematic, but i’d go a step further. it is not because these institutions are the best, or just happen to have the brightest kids. it is more about the maintenance of power and wealth in certain families. it is all about keeping up the class system. camoron did not become tory leader or prime minister because of his intelligence or merit; he got to where he is because the tory upper class thought he was one of them, and was just about nice enough too woo voters. in other words, it is all about the maintenance of wealth and power by the upper classes.. the current government has nothing to do with merit and everything to do with greed and cronyism. it appalls me that we are returning to a pre-1960 style status quo, and i think it will continue unless we get etonian assholes like camoron and clegg out of power. it’s not far and not right.

I just got this, appropriately enough, from one of my friends on facebook. I have used facebook many times to organize things and arrange stuff – a week ago, for example, I used it to tell one of our PAs that our PA for that day had not arrived when he was supposed to. Lyn was stuck n bed, and I was getting worried. However, I have not had to use it to get help in a major emergency, as the man in this story had to do. I suppose it’s testimony to facebook’s behemoth status on the net that such things can happen.

We were watching a program on TV last night about pleasure and pain. Unsurprisingly, the thing that gives most people the most pleasure is their loved ones, something which I can certainly say rings true. But the thing that caught my eye the most was a section where they did an experiment to see which minority could take the most pain. They had a group of people, subdivided into gender, one group swore, one group all had ginger hair, and so on. They all had to dunk their hands into freezing water for as long as possible. I forget the result, and I don’t think it matters that much anyway, but it occurred to me: what if they had a group of disabled people. By and large – although this is a huge generalization – we tend to take more pain than more than others. Those with CP fall and knock themselves; those with other conditions put up with huge amounts of pain. I’d have been very interested to se weather we differ from the ‘norms’ in any statistically significant way in our tolerance to pain.

It has been a long tiring ay, full of meetings and things to sort out. I think bed is soon to beckon. I order to relax, I was looking through some of my old entries, reminiscing to myself about times past. I found this entry, about my last few days as an undergraduate, where I write: ”Time never ceases – there will be other people to meet, other places to see. If uni has taught me anything, it is that there are no barriers.” I was struck by how prophetic those words were – of course time has not ceased, but has brought me to the new places and new people I wrote of. I did not, mind you, envisage these specific new people and new places: who would have known, just three years after writing those words, that I’d be happily engaged and living in south-east London. But the optimism in those words held true – everything is indeed possible, and it still feels as if the world is my oyster. University opened my eyes to so much, and lyn opened them further still. Those days felt like the end of something, and I remember how sad when I wrote some of these words. But that sadness was unfounded, as those days were, in retrospect, a beginning.

Reading my entries of that time back, particularly this one and this one, I remember the sense of optimism I felt for the future. Everything seemed possible to me, and it still does, but I wanted to impress that idea on the kind of young person I once was. I suddenly thought of the young people I work with at school: of course, they are in rather different circumstances to those I was in, yet I see no reason on earth why they too should be constrained, why they should not go to university, or why the world should not be their ouster too.

I have been putting off writing about this for some time, as, like my entries on cricket and politics, it has nothing to do with disability. That is to say, I cannot contribute anything unique too the subject. But must say that I feel severely annoyed at the idea that London’s Olympic stadium could be turned into a football-only venue after 2012. To me it seems very short sighted that after the Olympics this site of national pride should be only used for football. What really pisses me off are Tottenham’s plans to knock the stadium down and build a football pitch in its place. Does it strike anyone else as arrogant on the part of the footballing fraternity that they think they are entitled to do such a thing? After all, not everyone in this country likes football; some of us enjoy other sports more.

Indeed, if you ask me, it would be better to convert it, t least partly, into a cricket pitch – it is, after all, an oval stadium, a shape more suited to cricket. You could even keep he running track by simply covering it with some sort of astro-turf when there’s a cricket match on. This would probably make for quite a fast outfield, but I think that’s a compromise worth taking. This, to me, seems a far better use for the stadium than simply converting it to yet another football pitch. There is far too much money in football, making for some over-inflated egos; it just seems to me that they think they have an automatic right too this stadium, and can do with it as they alone please. It just gets me angry that football takes priority over all other sports and uses, even to the obscenely stupid extent that they propose knocking it down to make a football-specific stadium. How can anyone seriously propose that in the age of austerity? Surely this is a sign of how stupid and arrogant the football industry has become.

I was very glad I put tights on under my trousers yesterday. We needed to go shopping in the evening, and it had turned bitterly cold. I told this to Lyn and our PA, Marta, and they agreed. There are definitely advantages to being a trannie sometimes. The thing is, it suddenly occurred to me that I can only dress as I do because I can communicate, and Lyn can only be lyn because she can too. I had to ask Marta that morning ‘please can you help me into a pair of tights’.

It seems to me that we often forget how important the ability to communicate is. It is, in my opinion, the most important facet a person has, and the most taken for granted. If I did not have that ability, I wouldn’t have gone to university, met lyn, moved to London or done anything. Someone can be as intelligent as anyone else, but if they can’t communicate their thoughts and ideas, they are treated as non-people. I mean this in the most literal sense: at the school I volunteer aft there are kids with no ability to communicate whatsoever. The are treated like babies. It seems to me that the most fundamental difference between them and me – indeed, the only difference really – is that I can communicate and they cannot.

I don’t think I’m going anywhere with this. I’m just recording what seems to me a fascinating contradiction: that the ability that is moist important and is most central to us as people is the one we take most for granted.

It has now been just about a year since I moved down to Charlton. It feels good to write that; for a guy who, up until the age of about twenty, was determined never to leave home, I think it’ pretty good going. I really enjoy life in London – the entire city feels like my playground, and there’s so much to explore and see. Mind you, I haven’t been beyond the M25 all year, and I think it’s time I did so: part f me is still a country lad, and misses the fields and lanes. Mind you, google maps works much smoother on my new Mac, so I can take a virtual walk whenever I want. Nevertheless, I think Lyn and I both want to take more trips out of the city this year, and I think at least one of them will be back up to Cheshire.

Well, here’s to another great year.

I am now officially a mac user. After years of taking the piss out of those who use macs, I have given in and joined the dark side. Truth be told its a bit of a relief: my old PC had started to crash quite frequently, and its good to have a machine hat is a bit more stale on the other hand, I now have to get used to an entirely different type of computer with a new set of quirks and new ways of doing things. For example, wile we have plugged in my extended keyboard, the mac doe not seem to respond to it very well – it keeps missing letters. This is the type of thing which could improve with time, or else I’ll grow accustomed to it, but for now it’s fairly irritating.

There was another big change yesterday: Natalia and Andrzej had their last day working for us. It was rather sad, as we had all grown rather close. They shared Christmas with me, Lyn and my family, which was rather special. They are returning to their native Poland for personal reasons, so we had a bit of a farewell party. Life goes on, I suppose, but I really hate goodbyes. At let it means the next time we meet it will be as friends rather than employers and employees.

Lyn and I decided to cook last night. We actually cook quite often, as opposed ti putting two ready-meals in the microwave or going to get a take-away. Lyn is a good cook – she tells our Pas what to do and most of the time produces delicious meals. Last night we decided to use some of the vegetables we had in a roast with some mince. The thing is we weren’t sure how to make roast potatoes, and they turned out fairly hard. So hard, in fact, that I found them difficult to chew. Hell, Andrzej struggled to cut them up! I was trying my best to eat them, when I remembered when mum and dad used to liquidise my food. I absolutely hated it at the time; I wanted to eat the same thing as my brothers, and not mushed up slush. However, the irony is the idea of turning the spuds into mushed up slush last night seemed a good one, but Andrzej refused, pointing out that it would look more like puke than it already did. I persevered and finished my dinner as it was, but it just strikes me as ironic that last night I saw the logic of something I once thoroughly resented.

I have been asked to write a play for the school I volunteer at. To be more precise I kind of volunteered. It has been ages – around four years in fact – since I wrote any script, so initially I relished the prospect. Of course, I write prose quite frequently, but writing script is a completely different kettle of fish. I learned just how complex it is when I worked alongside Ricardio back at university. I gained a great respect for him as a director, and directors in general, watching him fashion his adaptations of solitude and The outsider. I started writing yesterday, and almost immediately came across an interesting problem: I tend to write lots of dialogue, but the students at school can’t handle that much, so I must break my old writing habit and waffle less. In other words, I must alter what I write, in terms of both style and content, to accommodate the performers. It’s quite an interesting test for my writing skills; one I’m bound to learn from.

Well, this play won’t write itself, so I better crack on. I’ll let you know how it goes.

There are a great many things I could write about today, although none of them have much to do with disability. A week ago, of course, I was celebrating England’s ashes victory, and considering whether to gloat at the Australians. Gloating, however, would not be appropriate: although the ashes tournament can sometimes turn vitriolic, the fact is there is a great kinship between England and Australia. They are our worthy adversaries on the field of play, and our brothers off it. I have watched with horror the footage of the terrible floods in Brisbane and other cities. I have been to Brisbane, and it is a great city. I really hope it can recover quickly. I’d like to express my solidarity with my Australian friends, and in the spirit of friendship send you here.

Friendly competition is one thing, vitriol is another. Of course, it is when that vitriol spills over into hatred that we need to worry. Unlike in cricket, I think politics is doing just that: it is spilling into acrimony and hatred. I think this is especially so in America; I’m as guilty as anyone – possibly more guilty than most – of getting worked up and hurling abuse at politicians. I may sometimes muse at the idea of killing some of them. But while I’m serious about wanting the Tories removed from power, I would never do anything to harm any of them physically. Politics is a matter of discourse and debate; like cricket it is a game, and like any good game it should never spill over. Whatever your political beliefs, after the debate is over there should always be friendship and respect, just as pomms and aussies should always be able to drink together at stumps. That’s why I, like any sane, rational person, am horrified to see how heated American politics has got: it is spilling into hatred and violence, and I don’t see how it can come back from the brink.

I am currently feeling rather happy. not only did England win the first twenty20 match against Australia this morning, but it was announced the next bond film – number 23 – has been given the green light and scheduled for release in 2012. These two things have made my day. I can’t really explain why I’m such a big bond fan: I know I shouldn’t be. Artistically, bond represents the corporate side of film-making: they churn out big-budget action film which they know will make money, caring little about film as an art form. Politically, Bond represents both imperialism and male dominance: he is a misogynist who sees women as disposable pleasures and a cold blooded killer. How he would react to me, a cripple who likes little more than slipping into a pink tutu, I shudder to think. Yet, despite this, today’s announcement has me filled with childish glee: one of my favourite heroes is going to make another appearance after an economically-educed hiatus, once again to seduce women, drive these fast cars and order martinis ”shaken,, not stirred”.

In retrospect I suppose it was not so much of a big deal, but something happened yesterday afternoon which really annoyed me. I was short of cash, so I popped down to Woolwich to get some. I was in my building society. I’ve been going to that branch for just under a year now, and I think the staff are used to me, so I decided to communicate using my voice rather than my Lightwriter. I love my lightwriter, but sometimes you just feel the urge to vocalise. Sometimes it just feels more comfortable. I also thought it was about time I introduced that particular cashier to my natural voice. So that is what I did: I tried asking for a mini-statement using my natural voice, but rather suddenly the woman serving me told me to use my Lightwriter. It felt like a command – an order. I was quite taken aback, even offended. I was talking quite clearly I thought, but it seemed as though the woman couldn’t be bothered to try to understand me. Granted there was a queue, but surely I have the right to choose how I communicate my requests, and the right not to be ordered so forcefully. After all, I’m not a child. After I got my statement I left as quickly as possible without saying a word,

I suppose looking back it’s hard to say what was right and what was wrong, but I must say in that moment I felt very angry indeed.

It gives me great pleasure to announce that Lyn, my most wonderful fiancee, now has her own domain. She’ll be writing about things related to music and macs; it promises to be a fascinating read. Please go here.

I have not posted a picture on here in ages, but this one made me laugh. [for some reason my blog won’t let me upload it, but it’s an image of a cashpoint displaying cockney rhyming slang. I’ll upload it onto here ASAP, but a copy can be found here. I found it on Facebook: someone around here as a sense of humour. It is a cashpoint up in Shoreditch which someone has apparently taught to use the local vernacular. I don’t own the copyright to this image, and I’m not sure who made it, although I think it was my friend John. If it is legitimate it’s awesome. Mind you, I wouldn’t be surprised if this turned out to be an authorised mod by a bank trying to make it’s cashpoints more accessible to the locals, or a ploy by the government to try to make sure the economy keeps afloat.

I am still in a state of euphoria concerning the cricket. After 24 years of disappointment, it feels great to have beaten the aussies in Australia: for, as the great Bill Shakespeare put it, ”Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer!”’ Yet just as the TV News has already moved the Ashes victory off the main article slot, and pictures of sunny Sydney have been replaced with those of overcast London, so must I return to more grave matters. It is now apparent that the government aim to cut disability benefit by twenty percent, something I am now very worried about: both Lyn and I get higher-rate DLA – it is our main source of income as neither of us have paid work. The benefits we get are enough to get by on, but only just, so if DLA is cut I’m not sure how we will cope.

I’m sure many people with disabilities will have the same fears. I guess we are, in a way, fortunate as both Lyn and I obviously qualify for benefit. However, I’m concerned for those claimants whose cases aren’t so clear cut. These cuts will no doubt push some very vulnerable, fragile people off benefits and try to force them into work when they may not be ready. In other words, these cuts will fuck up peoples lives, and for what? To appease the bankers, so that tax can be cut! This is an example of how uncaring the Tories are. These cuts are criminal, and will hurt some of the most fragile people in society; this is wrong, and we shouldn’t put up with these Tory arseholes fucking up our lives.

It is summer in the southern hemisphere, and it has been glorious; but here it is winter and it is going to be one of great discontent.

England just won the ashes! I stayed up for the victory. For the first time in my remembrance, we have won the ashes down under. I was there in Australia three years ago, and witnessed the drubbing England got first hand. But as much as we deserved that five nil farce, we deserve our three-one victory, and it makes it all the sweeter. I wish I could have been there, in Sydney, this year, but I cannot really complain. As an English cricket fan, and a proud member of the Barmy Army, I cannot be more happy. well done England!

Today I would like to address a few of the notions found in Chris’ reply to my entry yesterday, as his responses demonstrate pretty much all that I feel is wrong about the conservative position. Without wanting to resort to base insults, I must admit that I am increasingly coming to suspect that conservatism is not simply another point of view but, to be frank, a type of stupidity, or at least a willing disregard for certain facts. I know this sounds harsh and even arrogant, but let me clarify it.

For example, Chris writes ” Fair is equal treatment for all. It’s only people who want preferential treatment that think otherwise. “I think he should pay more so that I don’t have to” how is that fair?” I would just like to pull apart a few of these notions, starting with the words ”fair” and equal”. Everyone believes that everyone should be treated equally, and this constitutes fairness. But I do not believe that this is always the case. Say two students were taking an examination: common sense states that for the exam to be fair they should have equal time and that they should be tested under the same conditions. Yet this is, of course, not always the case: mercifully my days of exams are long gone, but when I used to take them I used a computer, sat in a room to myself, had a scribe and had extra time. This was, of course, to compensate for my CP, yet it brings into question the idea that everyone should be treated equally to be fair. If we take equal to mean the same, if I had taken my exams under equal conditions to those of my able-bodied peers, I would doubtless have failed them all, never have been to university and the last seven years of my life would never have happened. Thus equal does not mean the same, and to treat everyone the same is far from fair.

We can start to see that equality and fairness are subjective notions, and that to be fair the same rules cannot apply for everyone universally. Thus for Chris to state that ” ‘ Fair is equal treatment for all. It’s only people who want preferential treatment that think otherwise” seems to me to be far too simplistic. It is not that people want preferential treatment, but that they want the playing field to be levelled. Because I could not physically sit my exams in a normal way – hell, I can’t even write with a pen – for the exam to be made fair I needed to sit it under different conditions. Similarly the same economic conditions cannot be applied to everyone because the playing field is not level. I believe class, in both the social and economic sense, plays a huge role, and that to treat people from different backgrounds inn exactly the same way is just as illogical as making me do an exam with a pen. The problem is, those on the right like to pretend that socioeconomic class does not exist in order to justify their dominance of it. They say that class does not exist, that poor people are simply idle and therefore should be treated equally, by which them mean the same as everyone else.

As I wrote in my first reply in the comments yesterday: ” Those on benefit are not just lazy scroungers. I am sick of those Tories who justify the removal of state benefits for those they claim are work-shy. there are reasons why people are unemployed, many to do with implicit or explicit oppression. to justify the reduction of benefits on the grounds that most claimants are just work-shy is to create a nice little narrative with which you justify your selfishness”. There are many reasons why some people may have lower incomes than others, and why some claim benefits, none of them concerned with laziness. The class system exists because of divisions in our culture and the separation off our education system into two tiers. For many years, the eleven plus perpetuated the class system: those with certain types of knowledge and who used language in specific ways went to grammar schools, and those who did not were dimpled into secondary moderns. That system had nothing to do with how clever you were or how much you knew; what counted was how you presented and used that knowledge. The examiners loaded the questions which would advantage those from specific backgrounds over those from poorer families.

While the eleven plus is now a thing of the past, I believe the streaming system still exists: the education system favours certain forms of language and types of knowledge over others. If you’re in the system already, you don’t notice it: you get used to writing in certain ways and presenting knowledge in a set manner. But, if you think about it, that knowledge set is artificial and arbitrary and culturally loaded to favour those from certain socioeconomic backgrounds. This is how the class system is perpetuated, and how those from other backgrounds can continue to be repressed and used.

That’s why I believe that higher earners should pay more proportionally, as a means of levelling the field. Class should not exist, but it does. All cultures in our should be valued equally: why should certain types of knowledge be favoured over others? Free-market capitalism with low taxation keeps money in the hands of the wealthy, so the cultural tropes associated with wealthy people are favoured over those of others. Money allows people to send kids to rich schools, gives them time to teach them the favoured cultural tropes, and thus the class system is perpetuated. However, if all forms of culture were valued, this divide would vanish – that’s what I mean by the implicit repression of the poor at the hands of the rich.

Of course, there are other factors involved than education and language, but you can see that the Tory idea that everyone is equal so should be treated and taxed equally is far too simplistic. Everyone is of equal worth, but this means, rather paradoxically, that people must be treated differently, depending on a variety of factors including background. To treat everyone the same, to judge everyone by some universal criteria, would perpetuate the divisions in society. This is why yesterdays vat hike is so stupid. I feel that those on the right do not understand the factors behind the divisions in society, nor the fact that it is their very beliefs that perpetuate them. I find it rather ironic that by pretending class does not exist and thus expecting everyone to pay equal tax, the Tories widen the gap between rich and poor.

It is also ironic that what is needed to narrow the gap is the type of investment in infrastructure we saw under labour over the last thirteen years. They invested in schools, guaranteeing a good education for kids regardless of background.This meant that students from what I hesitate to call the ‘working class’ could go to university and become teachers, in turn helping to rectify the bias towards middle class cultural values in education. Yet this investment required a high rate of taxation for the wealthy in society, which had the Tories up in arms. So, even though those on the right speak of treating people equally and wanting equality, they would rather not invest in the means to narrow the class divide. This is another example of Tory philosophy doing exactly the opposite of what it claims to do, and an example of how self-centred those on the right are. It’s as if they see things only in terms of themselves and what policies will benefit them rather than in terms of the benefit to the wider society. I really do not like calling them stupid, but the Tories don’t seem to understand the complexities of class division or the implications of their actions.

I think I’ve written enough for today, yet I’ve only just scraped the surface. I think I’ll be returning to this subject soon: there’s a lot more to cover, especially when you factor in writers like Foucault and Derrida. I mostly used Marx today. I am concerned, though, by how little of these concepts those on the right seem to either understand or acknowledge.

No Tory or Tory supporter should have the right to use the word fair, as it is clear that they don’t know it’s meaning. Toda, economic lightweight George Osborne has put VAT up to twenty per cent. So, rather than cutting the deficit by getting funds from those who can best give, he has chosen to tax everyone, which will, obviously, hit the poorest hardest. The price of everything with VAT on it will go up, from cat food to communication aids. I fear that the poorest families will suffer the most, as well as those with disabilities, who already have too pay out more for stuff like extra washing powder, specialist equipment and so on. On the other hand, richer people – those more likely to vote Tory – will feel this pinch less as they can afford this rise. In other words, by imposing this general tax, the Tories are making the poor pay disproportionately more; the Tories are making the poor pay for the crimes of the rich. It is morally wrong, and almost criminal. Why should we put up with having these selfish bastards in power? if I hear them try to claim that this is anything like fair or necessary, I think my blood will boil.

I suppose this Christmas has been one of meetings: I met Lyn’s brother, paul; Lyn met most of my family; and we both met Adrian. Today was no different. This afternoon, we went to see Lyn’s friend, mark, and a few of her friends near Lewisham. Of course – and I seem to have written this sentence a lot recently – I was a bit apprehensive, but I needn’t have been. Just as my family greeted us on Christmas day, we were greeted warmly. In all five or six people were there: Mark’s mum, Mrs R, is a most hospitable person and makes a damn fine stew. I got talking to a guy called Kieth, covering subjects as diverse as the merits of Star trek Voyager to Foucault. Mark himself seems a very awesome guy whom I look forward to striking up a friendship with.

It has, once more, been a great day. I feel I’ve made some valuable contacts and friendships. Sorry my entries have been largely diary-like recently, when I should be writing about the imminent threats to the benefit system, but this Christmas has been a very good one for me. Besides, I suspect the people I met today will become the dramatis personae of future entries; I certainly hope so anyway.

I do not have much to write about today. We spent new years eve here, drank a bit and watched TV. It was quiet, and nice. I know you can’t really compare such things, but I really think this Christmas has been one of my best; it’s up there with the Christmas I had down under. This was largely because it was my first Christmas with Lyn, and because my Christmas day itself was so special. This Christmas has reminded me how lucky I am – I have a great family and a wonderful girlfriend.

I’m really looking forward to the new year. I like my little ‘job’ at school, and there’s a possibility that I might start working at a local youth radio station, but I’ll write more about this if and when it materialises. There’s also our wedding to plan, and, with any luck, a morocco trip to look forward to. All bodes well for 2011 – happy new year everybody!

I was going to stay off the subject of politics until the new year, but having just seen the details of CaMoron’s new years message, I now think new year’s eve is close enough. CaMoron is warning of a tough year ahead, but he maintains that the cuts he will impose are necessary to ‘get us out of the economic mess Labour left us’. This is bullshit, and really makes me angry. The last government did not leave us in a mess by any means: after 1997, they built a rigid, secure economy which was able to weather the worst world banking crisis since the thirties. It was only due to brown that we aren’t now in another depression. How this unelected Tory Prime Minister can come on TV and try to pin the hardships they will make on the previous government shows us all just how little honour the Tories have. The truth is they want to impose these cuts: for them, the economy was too big and taxes were too high. They want lower taxation so that wealth stays in the hands of the rich: they want a system where the rich stay rich and the poor…well, the poor are just poor because, in Tory philosophy, they are just lazy. Why should the rich pay part of their hard-earned cash to the tax man, so he can give it to such slackers? This is Tory philosophy, and this is the reason behind the cuts. They are motivated by greed and the desire to keep wealth in the hands of the wealthy, and they don’t give two hoots about those who rely on public services. Thus for CaMoron to go on television and claim he has no choice and the cuts are all the fault of the previous government is the most discussing, shameful and bare-faced lie ever uttered in British politics.

All is well here in Charlton. The house is fairly quiet, apart from Lyn composing in her studio. She’s working on a new song, which sounds awesome.. We’re also trying out a new PA, Adrian, from Poland – he already seems a cool guy*. As for myself, I’m just catching up on correspondence, checking facebook, blogging and drinking coffee.

I find myself reflecting upon what a spectacular year it has been. It has been a year where, in a way, I finally grew up, going from essentially an adolescent still living off my parents to a young man, settling down, becoming engaged and building a new life. Now that I think about it, it’s quite remarkable how dramatically my life has changed. I still have much growing to do, of course; I rely on Lyn for a lot of stuff and I can still be quite childish. Yet I think I’m growing.

In about three weeks it will be a full year since I moved in with Lyn. It’s funny to think that there was a time when I couldn’t bear to spend one night away from my parents, and now ‘home’ seems quite a distant memory. Yet this is my home now, as I keep writing; it’s a very good, comfortable home,, often full of music and the smell of coffee. It is where I intend to build a family, and grow old with Lyn. It is Our house , and I never realised how amazing that feeling would be.

*Looks Like Felix Riebl from The Cat Empire, in a way.

England have retained the ashes in Australia. I never thought I’d have the chance to write that sentence. Mind you, we have retained them rather than won them outright. There’s the Sydney test tto come, and the Aussies will try their hardest to win that, so the series will probably end up two all, but under the rules a tied series means we keep the urn, which is good enough for me. In fact I reckon it’s enough to wipe clean the utter embarrassment of our last tour down under, as it is a victory inflicted on their own back yard, and by quite a convincing margin. As an English cricket fan, I am now incredibly happy – what a Christmas it is turning out to be.

I think something odd happened this evening – something worth recording, although it was only small. Lyn felt the need to get out of the house, which is quite understandable given she spends so much time here, so we went to a pub we know on the other side of the park. We’ve been there quite a few times, but not since the summer. We were just walking back, when I felt something: the type of feeling you get when you visit a place which you once knew well but had forgotten, or a place you loved as a child. We were walking past Charlton house in the pitch dark of a December evening when I suddenly remembered the feeling of last summer: I rremembered walking through the park in july, and how beautiful it looks when the flowers were out and the sun was beating down. In short I felt nostalgic.

Reading this back it seems silly, and hardly important, yet in a way this is very significant. The warmth I felt in that moment, as we strode past the dark outline of Charlton house, was the same warmth I felt when I drove out along the lanes back up north: a feeling of familiarity and of homeliness. It tells me that this is now my home, and that here, with Lyn amidst the bustle of this great city, is where I belong.

I woke up very happy indeed this morning, for I think yesterday was one of the greatest days of my life. It was the type of day which makes you reflect on how good life is. Despite the taxi being slightly late, we made it in good time to my grandmothers house on the other side of London. I think Lyn was feeling somewhat nervous, and to be honest I was too, but we need not have worried. As soon as we got there, my uncle came out to the cab to greet us, then my dad, and I felt as if I’d come home.

For as long as I can remember, my parents had taken me, every few months, to visit my grandparents in Harlesden, so much so that their house was as familiar to me as my own. Going there yesterday, with so much off my family there, felt like slipping into an old pair of slippers or starting to read your favourite childhood novel for the umpteenth time. It felt cozy and warm, and it was then I remembered what a great family I have. Luke and Yan were there, with Yan’s mum, my uncle and aunt, both my grandmothers, and, of course, my parents. I did my best to hug everybody. We sat down to talk in the front room while we waited for dinner.

There’s not more I can say, really, other than giving a rather tedious account of what we spoke about. Yet I must say how great it felt to be there with Lyn, and to see her accepted, as it were, into the family, not that there was any doubt that this would happen: everybody got on like a house on fire. Christmas dinner was excellent, and easily ranks alongside these three as one of my all-time favourite meals. I must say, too, of how proud I am of my parents, for various reasons. For example, mum made a vegan alternative for Lyn, Andrezj and Natalia, as they don’t eat meat

I don’t think I can explain fully why all this made me happy; it just made me very happy indeed. Sitting around the table with Lyn and most of my family, and then playing dominoes at the kitchen table in the early evening, made me realise what a bloody lucky man I am. I must admit I felt rather sad to hear the doorbell ring, meaning the taxi had come to take us home, yet I also felt refreshed and reinvigorated, as if seeing my family had reset something. The pangs of homesickness I’ve felt, on and off, for the last few days have disappeared and I feel keen and excited about the day, week, month and year ahead.

Yesterday, for me, was very special indeed.

I do not have much to write tonight. As I recorded the other day, tomorrow we’re going to have Christmas dinner with my family. I’m really excited about it, both because I haven’t seen them in ages -, I haven’t seen my grandmothers in over a year, a fact which has been playing on my mind someewhat – and because Lyn will get to meet everybody. She has met mum, dad and Luke before, of course, albeit separately, but this will be the first family gathering I’ve taken her to, and the first I’ve been to as part of a couple. That thought feels wonderful, not least because I’ll get to show everyone how amazing Lyn is. It’s funny how I once thought I’d never thought I’d get to go somewhere as ‘us’, but now it feels rather natural.

Well, merry Christmas everybody. Have a great day tomorrow.

I met Lyn’s brother, Paul today, for the first time. I’d never met him before. Lyn warned me he comes over every Christmas, but it was a bit of a surprise when he appeared at the door this morning. Lyn was still in bed, so when he appeared at the door, Andrezj and I just took him for another delivery guy. We were about to take his present and shut the door when he said ”tell Lyn I called’, and it was then that I realised who he was.

Of course we invited him in, and while Andrezj helped Lyn to get up, I got talking to Paul. I was, ii must admit, extremely nervous: it’s not every day that you meet the brother of your – somewhat older – girlfriend. I didn’t know what he thought of me, and half expected him to ask ”what are you doing messing around with my little sister”. I needn’t have worried: once we got chatting, I realised Paul was a very nice guy, and a family man. Lyn wheeled in shortly after, and we got talking. I must admit I was touched to see how well Paul and Lyn get on.

I realised, as those two spoke, that I have a new family to find out about. I don’t know any of them, but, if all goes to plan, they’ll be part of my extended family before long, so I best get cracking. Knowing that makes me smile, but most of all I’m really pleased with how I got on with Paul. It feels like a worry has been lifted from my shoulders.

I suppose I should say something about Vince cable today. What he said in the torygraph is all over the news, but I suppose it makes a change from reports about the weather. I think I’m in two minds about this issue: on the one hand, I’m glad that at least someone is standing up to Murdoch. If he takes full control of BskyB, sky will just become a British version of Fox news, which we can ill afford. On the other hand, I wish cable had kept his views about Murdoch to himself: we needed him in the cabinet, and a central part of it, as he is the only rational voice there. The other Lib dems in high up positions have all betrayed their principles for personal gain. Cable was the only true liberal there, as evidenced by his unease with the direction that things are going. How very telling that he has now been demoted, as it were, and stripped of some of his former power? CaMoron is forcing the lib dems to tow the line or disk demotion.

I can’t get too wound up about this today, though. We now have a tree – a real, live one – and we’ll decorate it tonight. I’m safe and warm with Lyn to snuggle up to. I feel like a kid again. Politics is politics, but those are the things that really count.

Just to get you all in the festive spirit, I think I’ll send you here. It’s one of my favourite christmas songs but cooler. I just heard it, and now feel like a party. I think I’ll grab a brandy and sit back while the government implodes.

Yesterday afternoon I began to feel strange. Oddly, I kept on wondering what mum’s kitchen smelled like, and whether the piano was still in it’s place in the dining room. I suppose I was feeling, for the first time since I moved in with Lyn, homesick. This place, of course, is my home now, here in London, but you can’t cut the emotional ties too the house in which you grew up, especially not this time of year. It is, after all, almost a year since I saw that place – slept in my old bed, sat at my place at the kitchen table.

There was only one thing for it: Skype! I rang my parents, and Mum answered. The kitchen, she explained, smelled of rice pudding, but the day before it had smelled of Christmas cake, a rich, delicious smell I remember well. Mum cooks one every year, and I suspect I’ll be having some of it on Saturday afternoon. Never have I looked forward to a cake more, for I’ll be eating it with my family. Aside from my older brother, Mark, and of course Kat, my immediate family will be together for the first time in months, and I can’t wait! Mind you, apart from email, I don’t think I’ve had contact with Mark for a year, so his presence will be greatly missed indeed, but he spent last Christmas with us so it’s only right that he spends this one with Kat’s family.

Skype helped greatly, and speaking to mum cheered me up a great deal, but a while later I decided I needed something you wouldn’t really expect from me. I sent Andrzej to by a copy of the Sunday Times. My parents get it, for some long-lost reason, and I used to love reading the Culture section with the TV guide. Every year they do a two-week guide, and for me, it’s arrival is one of the signs, along with the Coke advert, that Christmas is here. You have no idea how inordinately happy I felt when my PA handed me that paper; never before has a broadsheet brought so much joy. I opened it and found the two-week edition of the Culture supplement. And once again I felt at home and at peace: Christmas has come!