I probably should have blogged about this yesterday or on Friday, but I think it was on Thursday night that I watched a programme called ”Jeff Brazier: Me and My Brother”, concerning Brazier’s relationship with his disabled half-brother. I must say that this programme made me very angry, not so much at Brazier (whose only claim to fame, I should point out, is having once been married to Jade Goody) but at his brother Spencer. Spencer has cerebral palsy and lives with his mum. This programme showed him to be extremely lazy, using his mum to do everything, but that wasn’t my main qualm: Spencer refuses to define himself as disabled although he clearly is. That is to say, he saw himself as somehow better than the rest of ‘us’. For example, the dude uses sign language to communicate, but obviously could do with a communication aid, so his brother Jeff take him to meet Toby Hewson. I know Toby, and he is a wonderful spokesperson for VOCA users, but Spencer seemed to think he was somehow superior to Toby because Toby used a chair. This made me very angry indeed – it seemed to betray a type of bigotry that seemed to say ”I’m not like you because I can walk. I’m superior”. Not only did he insult a man whom I count as a friend, but he insulted me. It seemed that Spencer would rather just keep using sign language than admit to being disabled. Sign language is fine, but I’d like to see him try to order a beer in a pub using it. Moreover, the irony is Toby is, in a way, far less disabled than Spencer, as at least he actually goes out and does things for both himself and other, whereas Spencer seems to use his (milder) CP as an excuse to be a couch potato.

I suppose whether he uses a VOCA or not is his prerogative, but in this program Spencer Brazier struck me as a stuck-up, lazy good-for-nothing, in deep denial about who he is, demanding everything be done for him. His arrogance in not heeding the advice of his brother and in dismissing toby and the rest of ‘us’ lead me to think, as the programme ended, ”what an idiot”

Christmas day is in just over a week, and, although I’ll be seeing much of my family on the day itself, it’s strange to think that this will me my first Christmas not spent with most of my family. In years past, Christmas meant going to my parents home, where I grew up. Aside from my visit to Australia, my Christmases have been spent in the house where I was born. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a bit strange not to be there this year; yet at the same time it feels thrilling to be here, with my bride-to-be, this year. I know Christmas with Lyn won’t be like the Christmases of my past, yet that is what thrills me. I am spending Christmas, for the first time, with the woman I love, and as much as it feels like leaving the past behind, with all the nostalgia and emotion that goes with it, I know that, this Christmas, I belong here. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than sharing Christmas with my future wife.

I think I will write just one more entry about last Thursday, then change subjects next time. It strikes me as interesting how so many contrasting versions of events have arisen from one day. On the one hand, there are those that claim that the violence was all the protesters fault, and that the police were forced to act as they did. At the other end of the scale, there are those that claim that the police wanted there to be trouble in order to justify their violence, even going as far as alleging that the police planted agitators in the crowd. I must say I find that idea ludicrous, but I also do not think the police are totally without blame either. Then there’s the case of Jody Macintyre: the police acted disgustingly in ripping him from his chair, but do you really think the cops would do this just for ‘rolling towards them’? I doubt it was much, and nothing can justify their actions, but he must have been doing something to provoke the police, and I don’t think he s being completely truthful. Thus there are those who blame the violence on thugs in the crowd, and those who blame it on police agitation. I was there and saw thugs throwing rocks at the police totally unprovoked; when I got home I saw firm evidence of police brutality. I do not think you can blame one side or the other, as some people seem very eager to do. The truth is, as we all know, a subjective construct, so I refuse on this occasion to fall into one camp or the other.

In no way should this be viewed as a retraction. I stand by my belief that the violence of last Thursday was caused by people in the protest bent on making trouble. Tension, as I say, was building throughout the day, and it was they who started throwing stones. Yet I was wrong to think it was completely their fault. When I left, just before all hell broke loose, the police were in a line between parliament and the protest, intimidating but calm. They let me through when I asked, and I assumed that they would not act without provocation. However, nothing – absolutely nothing – can excuse their actions here. They pulled a disabled protester from his chair not once but twice. It is thee equivalent of breaking his legs, and goes way beyond reasonable force.

I don’t know what happened to cause all this. frankly I am just relieved that I got out in time. My fellow disabled protester, Jodie Macintyre, having more balls than I did, stayed, and the police punished him for it. What he did to provoke the police is not clear, but I’m sure it was not that much. He gives – or tries to give – his account of what happened here.

Although it might cause my mum to worry, and my Dad either to frown or chuckle, I think I’ll send you to this footage of last weeks protest. I’ll let it speak for itself, apart from giving a chuckle of pride.

I still think that many kids went to the protest on Thursday because it was an opportunity to cause trouble – in fact I’m quite sure of it. I’m also sure that a few were totally uninterested in the politics of it all. However, they were in the minority. I found the violence abhorrent, and the atmosphere bloody scary, yet the fact is that what happened on Thursday was the result of something. It happened as a reaction to what was happening in parliament. The thugs may have used it as an excuse to wreak havoc and mayhem, yet that excuse was given to them by what was happening in the House of Commons. Most people there were only interested in peaceful protest, and, like myself, fled when it started to turn, yet even they seemed revolted by what the proposed cuts. What we saw on Thursday, and what we saw on three previous occasions, was a response to what the government is doing. Responsibility must ultimately lie with David CaMoron and his joke of a government for trying to impose these cuts. Even if we place the hooligans aside what we are seeing at these demonstrations is enormous anger at what the government is doing: on Thursday I could almost feel it in the air. If what we saw on Thursday, on previous occasions and the protests yet to come is anything to go by, the people of this country do not want CaMoron’s government in power.

I think the events of Thursday really shook me up. After all, it’s not every day that one almost gets caught up in a riot, and it’s not every day that you’re wallet is stolen. It wasn’t till yesterday afternoon that I could think of much else. I now think I was wrong to go – on Thursday morning I had this nave idea of being a revolutionary and marching with my fellows; I now see that a riot is no place for a cripple, and that there are far better ways to show my opposition to the government. Besides, I suspect many kids there were simply concerned with damaging central London, and were not interested in the politics of it all. I still feel, of course, that what the government is doing is wrong and that these ideologically-inspired cuts must be opposed, but there are far better, and safer, ways for me to do this. I can write far better than I can shout anyway.

I believe that, for the first time in my life, yesterday I was truly scared. It reached a point where instincts took over and I had to leave. It all started well enough – there was a carnival-festival, a music system pulled by a tandem bike, and even a samba band. I got talking to a few people, including a journalist from Greece, and all seemed well. Yet I could sense that something was building up; it felt like things were getting more and more tense. There seemed to be some people there who were spoiling for a fight; many were masked. Then, at about three, something snapped and the carnival atmosphere went completely. I heard someone say ”this is about to get nasty”.

It was then that I felt I had to leave. The police told us we were free to go. I had to go through the line of policemen in riot gear in order to get back across the river to catch the bus home. They let me through without question – the police, although intimidating in their riot gear, did not seem hostile. Contrary to the claims of some, it was the protesters who started the trouble – many seemed bent on it. As I left I saw sticks and bottles fly through the air – one hit me on the back of my chair. That was no place for someone who can’t dodge things or run. Never have I felt so scared.

As I made my way home I saw police vans go in the opposite direction – I’d obviously made it out just in time. I got home safe but shaken up, and with my wallet missing. What I thought would be a peaceful demonstration had been hijacked by hooligans and thieves. I never want to experience what happened yesterday again.

I’ll write about this more soon, but I better just say that I got home fine, if slightly shaken. I left just as things were starting to kick off. It started peacefully but people started to throw things, and I decided that it was no place for the likes of me.

I was not exaggerating when I wrote that, without my experiences at university, I would not be living with Lyn. Uni taught me that I didn’t need to rely on my parents, that, with the right systems in place, I could be independent of them. It taught me so much socially, that when I think that many kids like I was aren’t going to get the opportunity to go to university because it now costs too much, it makes me sick. Perhaps I’d have gone anyway – who knows – but it revolts me to think that many young people are going to be denied the experience I had because of the narrow-mindedness and treachery of our current government. That is why, all being well, I will shortly be getting on the bus and going in to central London to march with my fellow students.

My greatest congratulations go out to the England cricket team for winning the second test in Australia. It is a huge achievement, and I couldn’t stop grinning yesterday. However, today I want to write about more weighty, if no more important, issues.

I have been thinking about Wikkileaks, among other things. For a while, I couldn’t decide what to think, which is why I haven’t blogged on the subject earlier. I could see the point of those who claim that releasing certain information to the public could be dangerous. But then I asked myself: what is the public? Why should some people be privy to information and others not? Go we not all have a right to know what is going on in our world, and what our governments are doing? Why should some information be hidden from us? Thus I see what Julian Assange is doing as a huge public service: it is clear that we are being kept in the dark on issues which we, the public, have a right to know about. His arrest, on whatever trumped up charge, is a clear act of censorship and a sign that our governments want to hide things from us.

The Americans want to extradite him, apparently, but as far as I can tell he has committed no crime. The only crime committed was by the man who stole the documents fro the army – putting them on the web was not a criminal offence, so to seek to punish Assange for doing so amounts to no more than an act of repression. Therefore this all boils down to an issue of the freedom of speech and the right to tell others things we think they have a right to know. Assange clearly thought we have a right to know what the governments of the world were up to, so for such governments to want to silence him – even going as far as calling for his execution as some have done – is an act of despotism. Indeed, it is the first link in a chain which would bind us all irrevocably. I would therefore urge to care about our liberties to speak out on this subject.

I should probably update you on my money status, in case you were worried. I decided to risk it and venture out for money. I took the bus, on Lyn’s advice; when the paths are ice-free, I can make it to Woolwich and back easily, but there are a couple of steep hills that I did not fancy trying to power up at all. So, I hopped on the 54, and was there within ten minutes. I got my cash (enough to last the week) then I decided to buy some gloves from M+s as my hands were numb. Rather kindly, the lady in the store helped me put them on, but you should have seen the trouble she had. I was by then feeling festive, so I bought a box of mince pies too. I came back on the bus, thinking that snow isn’t so bad – you just have to know how to handle it.

Winter is really getting annoying. It really is bitter. Other than the concert on Thursday night, I haven’t been outside since Tuesday. I can barely control my chair wwith the pavements as they have been, let alone walk on them. The sun has come out today, but it’s barely above freezing so I doubt that we’ll be going anywhere. It’s safe and warm in the house. Problem is, I’m out of cash so I can’t buy more supplies. We just send our PA out to the shop when we need stuff, but I’m out of money to give her. Lyn has a card, but it’s unfair on her for me not to pay my way. I can’t see myself going to get more cash until the pavements are ice free. It’s starting to worry me. Winter, I suppose, affects us all in different ways, but as it stands, it’s money that is my prime concern.

I was just watching a programme called Freddie Flintoff – Ashes Hero, and I was struck by the contrast between cricket and football, especially at the moment. Currently, in the realm of cricket, England are playing Australia in the ashes, one of sports longest-lasting rivalries. But I think it’s a rivalry of great warmth and friendship: both England and Australia respect each other deeply; we love visiting each other’s countries every couple of years. That’s why I wrote on here the other day that at least we drew the first test, as it means we won’t lose five nil again. I would not mind losing to the Australians now as, going by recent form, we have every chance of winning next time. And even when we did loose five null, I had such a great time Down under that I could not begrudge them their victory for too long.

The vibe I get from the world of football is currently completely different. To be crude it seems far less civilised, particularly since Friday. Loosing that world cup bid really stings, far more than losing the ashes in Australia, largely because it was so very unfair. We should have won that bid on Thursday, but because of the corruption of Fifa, football won’t ‘come home’ for at least thirty years. The whole thing reeks, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. Australians, I should add, have just as much right to feel as slighted as we do, as the games they should have won were inexplicably given to Qatar. What Fifa did was deplorable, and has brought itself and the entire game of football into disrepute. That’s why I’m just going to watch cricket, as it is more certain where games will be hosted, and England have a chance of winning.

It feels good to be able to write an entry about what I, or rather we, got up to last night. It was our first proper night out in ages, and it was a damn good one. Lyn and I, together with Andrezj and Natalia, went to see Arcade Fire up at the O2 arena. Because we had two Pas, I was able to go in my manual chair, which, because of the weather, I was extremely grateful for. We got there about half seven, giving us time for a nice leisurely dinner before going in to see the show. It was the first time I had seen the inside of the arena for myself, and I must say it impressed me, not least by just how big it is, and how well positioned the wheelchair enclosure is (although at one point someone spilled some kind of cold liquid on my head from behind us).

It was Arcade fire who impressed me the most though. They’re a Canadian rock group from Montreal. Truth be told, I was unfamiliar with most of their stuff – Lyn keeps berating me for just listening to a mixture of the Cat Empire and Carly Simon – but I got into it. It was my first ever rock-concert, and I really enjoyed watching the band perform: they had one guy who seemed to be possessed by a monkey, and bounced around the stage banging a drum. The lead singer also impressed me through his showmanship and curious hairstyle. The whole thing blew me away, and I came out of the arena thirsty for more. Arcade Fire have a new fan, as do rock concerts in general.

The outcome of the 2018 world cup hosting competition has just been announced, and I am appalled at the outcome. It is quite obvious that FIFA is a corrupt organisation which should be disbanded immediately. In voting for Russia they have become the henchmen of an autocrat, as its obvious that Putin is using FIFA to spur the modernisation of his country he himself cannot. Had they voted to give the competition to the UK, it would have been awesome, as the infrastructure is already here. We know how to put on a party. I suppose we cannot be too disappointed, aw we have the Olympics; plus, between that, the cuts and the royal wedding, we cannot really afford the world cup. Nevertheless, the UK should have been successful in their bid, and would have been were it not, I suspect, for FIFA’s obvious corruption. I’d like to see a public inquiry into this – perhaps then we’ll discover who bribed whom.

Okay, perhaps the word corruption is a bit strong, but it’s plain that this decision was politically motivated and I would not be surprised if money did indeed change hands. The country with the best bid did not win.

What happened last night was really rather amazing, and an experience I will treasure. We had a night in – all ideas of going outside being put on hold for the foreseeable future – and we decided to do some fortune telling. Yesterday was saint Andrew’s day, and it is apparently Polish tradition. Ordinarily I shun such things, but I gradually found myself becoming more and more fascinated. Andrezj and Natalia melted a candle over the hob, and then dropped the hot wax into a bowl of cold water. When it was cool, they held it up and shone a torch on it; the silhouette, they said, could tell the future. I’m not sure I believe that, but it was amazing to see what shapes were made on the wall: I’m sure I could see a woman in a wedding dress when Lyn’s future was being told. When mine was being told, I think I saw two people kissing. In the half light of the lit candles, I felt warm and cosy – the future, I think, is going to be good, whatever the wax said.

There was another student protest today up in London. Ordinarily I feel very eager to go, and I have to fight the urge to get on a bus to go join my fellow students in rebelling against the system. Admittedly, it’s not a strong urge, and is usually overcome by the need to do other things, but it is, nevertheless, there. I want to see for myself these protests; I want to show my opposition to the injustice. Today, however, the urge was overruled completely by the weather. Frankly, in this snow, going anywhere in my chair is suicide. I went to school this morning, which was scary enough, and that’s just around the corner. I guess my curiosity about whether the authorities will allow a guy in a wheelchair be ‘kettled’ will have to wait for better weather, as will my eagerness to rebel. I know this is a cop-out, but I guess I have to be a fair-weather revolutionary.

I am suddenly rather pleased. I just checked the cricket score, expecting to read of the Australian victory, only to find the match was drawn. This is terrific news, as it means we’ve already improved on the last tour of Australia. It means England are saved from the indignity of a five-nil drubbing, which, to be honest, was all I was hoping for. I’m sorry if this sounds negative, and I know the English team are much improved, but, after the fiasco of three years ago, it’s quite a relief.

And I know this has nothing to do with anything I’m supposed to write about on here, like crip-related stuff, but there’s nothing more important in my book than ashes cricket.

If I ever become prime minister, I think one of the first things I’d do is legalise the use of guns, but only for disabled people and only in specific circumstances. I ordinarily oppose the use of violence, but there are times when I have badly wanted a gun, such as last night. We were in a pub, having a quiet beer, when a guy started to talk to us. At first he was okay, but he soon got offensive – very offensive. He started to insult our PA, Marta, trying to tell her how to do her job; he was condescending and rude, and he didn’t understand why he wanted to go away. I became very angry – Marta does her job very well indeed, and I will not have her insulted. At that moment, I whish I had a more effective means of making the guy clear off, like a gun.

I admit this might not be my best idea: letting inebriated wobblies like myself use firearms may be particularly unwise. Yet the fact is, people like me and Lyn seem to get this abuse quite often, ad I’m starting to tire of having to put up with it.

I listened to the first hour of the cricket, hoping to hear an Australian wicket or two fall, when I suddenly thought ”Man, I could kill some VB”. VB, or Victoria bitter, is a local brew down inn Sydney and Brisbane; it’s nothing special, but I missed it last night. It didn’t seem a day since we were there at the last ashes tour, sitting in the sun, singing with the barmy army. We were on the holiday of a lifetime: I had not one but two helicopter rides; we saw Uluru and spent a day on Moreton island. Sitting on the sofa late last night, listening to Jonathon Agnew describe the scene, brought it all back, and I suddenly felt thirsty. Cricket is the only sport I know with such evocative power.

I was watching Michael ‘Pob’ Gove’s announcement on education yesterday, and I was shocked to hear that he plans to remove the emphasis from coursework and put it back on exams at GCSE. I was genuinely taken aback: I know the Tories are stupid, but I didn’t realise they were that stupid. Coursework gives a far more accurate idea of a pupils ability, especially in the arts; it gives you a chance to build arguments properly, rather than hurridly and under pressure. Moreover, it places people like me at a huge disadvantage: if all my qualifications had been exam based, I doubt I would have passed many of them – in exams, one tenses up, tires, and cannot work at your best. Thus this move constitutes a huge step backwards in terms of disability equality.

I can’t believe they are doing this. all the progress made over the last thirteen years is being undone to suit the Tories’ narrow, bigoted view. It is utterly wrong – even callous. They may pretend to be forward thinking and progressive, but you only need to look at Howard Flight’s remarks to see what the Tories really think. They are nothing more than a bunch of arrogant arseholes with no right to be in power, but they think they are somehow superior to the rest of us, and can undo things that ensure equality for the sake of their narrow-minded ideology.

I was going to say something about Australia today. The ashes, of course, begin tomorrow, and I was going to write about our trip there during the last ashes tour of Australia. I was going to write about Uluru and Darling Harbour and rides in helicopters. Yet, as coincidence would have it, I received this link today. Annie Macdonald, one of the leading lights of the disability rights movement and an inspiration to everyone who heard about her, died last week at her home in Australia. I remember reading about her in university after Becca told me about her: she was institutionalised between the age of four and eighteen: because of her CP, she was supposed to have severe learning difficulties, but through sheer will and determination, he managed to show herself and free herself. I suspect, from what I have read, that she would object to this eulogising, yet I fear the disabled community and human-kind itself has lost one of it’s biggest characters. Through her writing and through her being, Anne Macdonald made us ask questions about ourselves no other person could. I deeply regret never contacting and getting to know her.

I just watched something on the news that I am quite disgusted at: a city ‘academy’ in London has rejected an application from a girl with cerebral palsy. The school, which professes to be inclusive in it’s prospectus, claims it cannot cater for the girl because ”the school had narrow corridors, small classrooms, steep disabled ramps, only one disabled toilet and two lifts.” This sounds like a pisspoor excuse to me, and the fact that this is still happening makes me furious. I know that inclusion is not the black and white issue I thought it was, but surely people have a choice about where and how their kids are educated, and that choice shouldn’t be infringed by disability. Anyway, go read.

I was speaking to a friend online the other night. He said he had stopped reading my blog because I’d become predictable. I think this is certainly a valid point: I do tend to go over the same ground again and again. I guess I try to give readers an idea of what life is like for a twentysomething guy with CP, settling down and building a family in the infant years of a new millennium. This is why I sometimes write diary-type entries. But I think the guy I was talking to was referring to my political blogs, and my attacks on the government. Here he definitely has a point: I am a student of film and writing, not politics. I am no political pundit, and I certainly don’t fully understand the economic situation. My entries on politics may well be becoming repetitive and tiresome because of this. yet politics is something I am very angry about, and, as evidenced here, I’m not the only one. Many people, especially those with disabilities, are very worried about the government; for the first time in centuries, there is a faint whiff of revolution in the air. I’m not the only one who sees this government as illegitimate, and the Lib-Dems as traitors. I therefore think I’ll continue to blog as I have been, attacking the Tories, trying to show things from my perspective, but I will try to write on a wider variety of topics from now on.

Tonight is children in need night; a night where we are all supposed to give to help the poor innocent children. I still don’t quite know what to make of charity. On the one hand, I know it can be a good thing, based on selflessness and compassion. Yet charity traps those they claim to help into a cycle of dependence – they become slaves to the organisations which help them. It’s scary how swiftly the urge to help becomes the urge to dominate. This is why I prefer state organised forms of welfare, bit with the Tories in power, I suspect those who need a helping hand are trapped into dependence for the time being.

We were just at Charlton house, having a leisurely cup of coffee. Lyn was telling us how, at the turn of the millennium, she could see the dome from where she then lived so she watched the fireworks there first-hand. It made me think of how different my life was back then, and how radically things have changed over the last ten years. In 2000, I was still at school – a quiet, out-of-the-way special school with very low expectations of it’s students. I suppose my expectations were equally low: after school, I expected to start at Macclesfield college and stay there for a long time, commuting every day between my comfortable life with my parents and a comfortable life at college. University was a pipe-dream, but I was still kind of scared of thee prospect of ever leaving home, so I intended to put it off for as long as possible. After all, I thought, who would look after me? The idea of ever finding a person to love me was frankly ludicrous.

Looking back, I was young and immature. I’ve grown so much over the last decade, or at least I think I have. University taught me so much: in a way I grew up there, for it gave me so many experiences, and I met so many friends there that it revolutionised my whole being. It turned me from a young, home-loving child to a young man, eager to try new things, meet new people. I am no longer afraid of life away from home, or, rather, I have found a new home, and a new family, safe in the knowledge that the one I left up north will always be there for me. The last decade gave me so much in terms of life experiences and friends. Who would have thought, as I watched the fireworks on television that night ten years ago, that the woman I would fall in love so deeply with was watching them from her bedroom window.

I was struck by something I heard on a bbc4 programme about Aristotle last night: science is an endless conversation. This is no doubt true, I thought, but art is, among other things, the means by which we have that conversation. I’d evenn go oe step further than aristotle by saying that every field, not just science, is a conversation All forms of communication are on some level, artistic: even the precise, stripped down unadorned form of writing found in scientific papers. (my physicist brother, Mark, may be alarmed to find that he, too, is an artist, but he makes artistic decisions each time he composes a sentence). Even in writing these words, I am making a piece of art, contributing to the never-ending conversation about the world around us.

All art contributes to that conversation. I find writing the most direct and specific, which is of course why it is usually the art form used to explain and communicate complex ideas. But I see all arts as capable of enhancing and clarifying the world around us. Film or photography, for example, have the ability to shed light on the world particularly sharply. Even the programme on Aristotle contributed to the conversation

But it got me thinking again about those who can’t contribute, who can’t communicate – what of their voices? I think I can make my thoughts known quite well, and enjoy doing so, on various subjects, on my blog. Lyn can express herself artistically through her music and paintings. Yet as a disabled person, I find myself regularly preoccupied by the fact there are those who are unable to express themselves. Often, if you are unable to make your thoughts known, you are seen as a lesser person. I have this fascination with film and it’s relationship with language; I think it stems from my fascination with communication. Most people, I guess, take communication for granted, but even what I am doing now, in typing these rather disorganised words, is a very valuable skill. Those who do not possess it, for whatever reason, are seen as non-people. The ability to make one’s voice herd seems central to society: it’s as though, if you are unable to contribute to the great human conversation, as I once wrote here, then you are not fully a person. Being a VOCA user makes one realise how central the ability to express oneself, in whatever way, is to human society.

I heard earlier that the banks are considering cutting their bonuses from 7 to four billion quid. This made me feel sick: it was the financial sector fat-cats who got us into this mess in the first plaice – it was because of the stupidity and greed of such people that we are now in a recession, and the public sector has to be cut so drastically. Of course, the people in that sector claim that they deserve such bonuses, but I don’t see how they contribute to society in any way. They just move money around, investing in stocks and shares which rise and fall arbitrarily. I may be being stupid, but how does that system contribute in any way to humanity? It does not teach our children; it does not expand our knowledge; it does not help people care for their selves. All it does is arbitrarily create wealth. Why the fuck do we need it, then? These ‘economists are greed-merchants, who, through the flaws in the system they created and sustain, have screwed us all over. Why should they get any bonuses? The bastards should all be in jail.

Lyn made a blog entry today. Quite frankly, I find her words shocking and haunting. I could say more, especially about her amazing talent for drawing which I only found out about today, but I think I’ll klet her speak for herself. go here

I know I am not supposed simply to ‘Plug’ things I’ve seen on tv on* here, but today I’ll make an exception. I think everyone should watch ‘David Attenborough’s first Life’ – it is a magnificent, fascinating programme about how life on earth began. I’m something of an Attenborough fan; he has amassed an immense body of work cataloguing life on this planet. Each one of his series is a gem in itself, but when viewed as a whole, his contribution both to television and the nation’s understanding of science astounds me. This latest programme just adds a final masterstroke to that body of work. I entreat you all to go watch.

Charlie just popped by with her mum for a bit of a flying visit. She didn’t stay long – we just had time for a natter over brunch. She brought teacakes with her, and it was good to catch up on what the joneses are up to. Charlie is still teaching, but hopes soon to go freelance so she can tour more with her band; Hugh, her brother, has apparently turned his hand to inventing musical instruments, and the two younger joneses are growing up fast. They had to go all too soon. I would have liked to take them for a walk around the village, but they had to go. Nevertheless, it feels good to know I have such good friends – uni feels an age ago already, but I think the experiences and friends I gained there will last a lifetime.

This maybe somewhat controversial, but I cannot say I condemn what happened yesterday at Millbank. While I do not liike seeing anyone get hurt, part of me whishes those students had raized the Tory party offices to the ground. That is, after all, what they deserve. They’re imposing cuts on us all, making us suffer for crimes we did nt commit just so they can keep taxes low. As far as I’m concerned, what happened at that student protest yesterday was a fair and proportionate response to the coalitions cuts, and the tories have only theirselves to blame. I expect – and indeed hope – to see many such actions in the near future. Maybe then the government will see it doesn’t have the people’s backing, and move aside for someone more intellegent.

I am still fretting about the subject I took up yesterday. It might not seem very relevant here, but if something with the philosophies of the tea party movement gets established here, as Farage seems to intend, then I think it cause for great concern. As I noted yesterday, I think the party itself is composed mainly of moderate but disenfranchised people, but is being hijacked by those on the far right. Indeed, yesterday I came across footage of Christopher Monkton, still calling himself Lord Monkton although he lost his hereditary peerage in 99, railing against global warming. He was trying to use the movement to spread his own ultra-conservative agenda. He was also singing the praises of Fox News. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t worry what such a lunatic spouts, but Monkton is also UKIPs second in command.

How is it that such insane people are gaining power on both sides of the Atlantic? If he has views in line with fox, presumably he would do away with the BBC and the NHS, two of the things which define Britain as Britain. In other words, there is nothing British about values such as his, so why are people like him gaining sway. This is important, because if they are, it threatens my way of life, as presumably like the republicans he would have people like me dependent on charity rather than the state. In short, I would be a beggar. I find his views repugnant, and the fact that people actually listen to the crap he spouts baffling. He is not even a climatologist, and clearly does not have a clue what he’s talking about. I think that such people really should be made to shut up before they do real damage. The first thing to do, apart from demonstrating global warming is real once and for all, is to expose such people for the foolish bigots they are and to outline the dangers in heeding them. That’s what I attempted to do today.

If there is anyone I loathe more in British politics than David CaMoron and thee Tories it is Nigel Farage and UKIP. I may joke about the Tories being closet racists and xenophobes, but that’s only me trying to be provocative. UKIP, on the other hand, really are racists and xenophobes – they just don’t admit it, even to themselves. The fact is, as all sensible people realise, Britain must be part of the European Union – most of our trade is with the EU. Being part of a wider European community makes sense, and the protests of people like Farage, however sensibly and reasonably they might like to frame them, amount to little more than the ravings of a lunatic.

Amusingly, though, Farage has claimed the American teaparty movement as kindred spirits. As anyone reading this will probably know, the teapaarty movement are even more right-wing than republicans, and advocate small state individualism. They call themselves libertarians. It’s supposed to be a grass-roots movement, but I suspect that is an illusion – I suspect the whole thing is a construct generated by the right and their allies in the media, plying those worst hit by the crunch with platitudes and slogans about ‘taking back our country’, but more on that soon. Such philosophies have always struck me as very short-sighted, as while they sound like they advocate freedom and tolerance, in reality they generate freedom for some and servitude for the many. Those with the ability and resources cease power while others are left to starve. I firmly believe we need a large state as both a safety-net and a mechanism which guarantees fairness and equality for all. Everyone has a right to free healthcare and a decent free education; everything else simply ensures inequality and suffering. Thus it is very telling that Farage would ally himself to the teaparty movement: both pretend their politics are reasonable, fair and adult when in fact they are self-centred, narrow-minded and frankly stupid.

It has been quite a hectic couple of days. On Friday, we had a meeting about finances with a lady from social services. I don’t want to go into detail here, but it was rather stressful for all involved, especially Lyn. Fortunately, luck had it that dad was here at the same time, so he an Paula were able to give us some back-up. Dad had only come to drop off my other chair, as defiant needed to be taken for a service, so I rather sprang it upon him. Nevertheless, dad was superb.

My brother Luke was equally superb yesterday. My copy of Word hadn’t been working all week; we tried to fix it but nothing we did seemed to work. So we dragged Luke all the way here from up near Muswell hill. When he got here, he popped my computer on and found it working perfectly. I felt pretty awful, but it was great to see him and my machine needed a look at anyway. It’s now functioning well, and I can spell-check my blog entries again!

Yet best of all I got to see my brother, whom I hadn’t seen since Christmas – perhaps I should get my computer to go wrong more often. As I keep saying, life with Lyn is awesome, and I am more independant than ever, but it feels great to know I still have a family like mine behind me.

I should probably update you all on the status of my foor. I was out of my wheelchair in time for tea yesterday, as by then it was feeling much better. I think I just needed to rest it, which would imply that it was twisted rather than broken. Wednesday night I was really contemplating having to take a trip to A and E, a prospect which I did not relish, so I’m glad it turned out okay. Mind you, I think having Cp gives you a higher pain threshold: to a certain extent, you have so many bumps and twists that you can take more paiin than usual. On the other hand, that could be just me, so I’d be interested to speak to other CP-ers on the subject.

I suppose I am, as mum usedd to put it, ‘in the wars’. I was coming home yesterday from Woolich, zooming along, when I heard a noise behind me. I turned around, and realising it was just a gate banging in the wind, I turned back. It was then I felt a severe – and I mean severe – pain in my left foot. I’d trapped my foot against a metall box. At first I thought it would just ease, so I iggnored the pain, but it got worse over the evening.

This morning, it was slightly better, but it still hurt to walk on it. One of the advantages of beng a cripple is having a wheelchair at ones disposal, so I’ve been using it. When at home, I like to be ambulent – I prefer to walk about the house; yet it’s odd to reflect that I am, for the first time, descovering what life is like for those with no walking ability at all. This is my first day wholly in my chair. It isn’t that bad, actually: reading is probably better from my chair as I could park by the bedroom window and have a quiet, well-lit spot to read. Reaching stuff is more of a poblem, as is picking things up from the floor. On the other hand, I can zoom around the house without using very much energy.

I think, though, that once my foot is better, I’ll go back to walking. There are advantages to being ambulent, and, contentious as it may be to some in the Crip Comunity, I think walking should be encouraged. Of course, as I’m apreaciating today, it isn’t the be-all-and-end-all, and I still agree with a sticker on my friend Katie’s chair which reads ”walking is overrated”, but it is a useful skill to have.

I was just watching newsnight, and it looks like Obama is about to take a kicking. It’s hard not to feel sorry for the guy; it’s also hard not to feel that america is nought but a bunch of morons. Obama attempted to enssuure every american was ensured a decent standard of medical care, among other things, while trying to steer an economy through troubled waters, but according to the pundits, obama is almost universally hated. Problem is, obama is a victim of his times: he was / is a visionary, but the people of america, fed so much right-wing bull from the likes of Fox, don’t seem to undderstand what he is trying to do. He seems to have a more european, state-oriented attitude to things, but because this stands to jeopodize the monopolies certain businesses, like Fox and private medicade companies had over the people, the average americans were fed so much crap about Obama being unamerican.

It really makes me sad, as well as stiking me as ironic, how it was american capitalism got it’as people into so much trouble, yet that same system has such a stranglehold over the people that it dupes them into blaming other ways of thinking for their woes. In a way, they can’t accept that it is their indeviduallism, which they perceive Obama as challenging, which is the root cause of their prroblems. Obama is trying to grow the economy by pumping money into the state, but is accused of being unamerican buy investing too hard. Sorry if I’m not being very coherent tonight, but can america not see it;’s trapped in a way of thinking, and if it doesn’t escape, this soort of thing will happen over and over again. Obama offered solutions caused by the american system by proposing to change that system, buut in doing so Obama was blamed for those very problems. It seems the american status-quo is too rigid, with too much wsway over the mindset of the american people.

I think I’ll change the tone slightly today, having become too ranty and indignant recently, and direct you all here. It seems a transwoman has won the world scrabble championships. Mikki Nicholson, who is 32, says she only started playing the game five years ago, so it’s quite incredible. Maybe you could say it’s another small step forward for transpeople everywhere. Mind you, I think her pink wig might have put her opponent off, giving her an unfair advantage; and since when were ‘duh’ and ‘pee’ real words?