I must note that today is also my brother’s twenty-fifth birthday. Happy birthday Luke. I don’t get to see him much these days, and nowhere neaar as much as I’d like. Mind you, I’ve recently been ruminating over the fact that it’s now well over a year since I had any face-to-face contact with my older brrother, Mark. I know it’s a natural part of life, but I am very fond indeed of my brothers, and I think I better do something about seing them. Whille I’m sure we’ll talk on skype soon, I think something like a reunion must soon be arranged.

I am probably as alarmed as anyone at what is currently happening in north Africa and the middle east. The entire region seems to be ablaze; even seasoned commentators seem not to know what to make of it. Of course, as for myself, there is not much I can add to the debate or discourse: I know next to nothing of that region, or it’s politics. I can only really register my shock, horror and, if I’m honest, my fascination at what is going on.

For I must admit I do find it fascinating, as I’m sure anyone with even the slightest interest in world politics and history will. In the last few weeks, four or five of the regions dictatorships have fallen. Has there ever been such a spate in the history of the world? People compare it to the events of 1989 and the fall of the soviet union, but it could be even more monumental than that: the entire arab region is going through a huge shift. It’s like the UK, France, Germany and Italy all changing forms of government at once.

I suppose the next question is one nobody can answer: where is it all leading? We in the west hope democracies will be established in these countries. I truly hope freer countries are the result of these upheavals. Yet we cannot be sure that what eventually comes out of this won’t be regimes even more vicious and repressive than those of Gadaffi and Mubarak, which is why I am as worried as I am fascinated. All we can do is watch the news as the great drama plays itself out.

For all my writing and grandstanding about politics and about how these cuts will hurt us all, and about how CaMoron must go, I realise how comfortable and sheltered my life has been. I live a comfortable existence with the woman I love, the equipment I need and a supportive family within reach. While Lyn and I are worried about the impact of these cuts, I know I have the resources behind me in terms of friends and family to weather the storm. If you want to get an idea of the true impact of what the Tories are doing, please go here. Lives are being ruined, families torn apart. It’s heartbreaking, and it must be stopped.

I know this is not one of the usual subjects I blog about, but given who my future wife is and my taste in clothes, I see no reason why I shouldn’t comment on such issues. Worryingly, homophobic cards have appeared on the streets of Whitechapel and Shoreditch, declaring it a ”Gay Free Zone”. It’s evidence that there is a homophobic undercurrent stirring up in the east end of London. Perhaps even more worryingly is that the signs reference passages from the Koran.

Here’s where it sort of gets interesting, though, as there is a theory going around that these cards were actually placed there by the English defence League. Although I watch my fair share of science fiction, I must say I find that rather far fetched. It’s too convenient: rather than admitting that homophobia can arise in all sections of society, they would rather maintain that one particular group of far-right morons is stirring up fear of Islam by calling it homophobic. On the other hand, part of me wouldn’t put it past the EDL to do such a thing, then deny it using that very argument.

The truth is, we don’t know who is putting these signs up. It could very well be hard-line Islamists, or it could be the EDL. Either way, both homophobia and xenophobia must be combated.

We needed to get some odds and ends from the shops yesterday afternoon, so we decided to go over to Lewisham. On the way there, quite an unusual thing happened, which I think is worth recording. Lyn and I were both on the bus, having found a nice friendly bus driver who let us both on at the same time. We were sitting there quietly when a man sitting nearby began to take an interest in my lightwriter. This is nothing unusual in itself – people stare at my equipment all the time – but this man was different. It was not until he leaned over and started to gesture to his wife that I realised he was mute. He was interested in my lightwriter because it was something he could possibly use.

We got to talking: I showed him my lightwriter, and Lyn showed him her Ipad. He said he had an Ipad, but, interestingly, he got out a large magnetic stylus thing – the type children use to draw on – in order to write messages on. This struck me as a very low-tech form of communication, and I wondered if the couple had had any input from the relevant authorities about more high-tech equipment. It seemed somehow improvised; like something you might buy if you didn’t know there was specialised equipment.

Both parties got off at the shops, and went our separate ways. I thought about giving the gentleman my blog address so we could tell him more, but we didn’t get chance. While I’m sure he’ll be okay, the feeling of astonishment I got from him as he looked at my lightwriter, which, after all, is a pretty dated bit of equipment by now, gave me the scary impression that this couple had been abandoned by the council and left to find their own way to communicate.

If anyone is still under any illusion that the ‘huge structural deficit’ this country apparently has is anything other than a Tory lie; if anyone thinks the cuts they are imposing are necessary, and not part of the Tory scheme too rip up the state and cut tax for the rich; and if anyone thinks George Osbourne is anything other than a lying, dissembling twat, then I would direct you here. This clip clearly demonstrates that, far from being absolutely necessary, these cuts are provoked by Tory philosophy and will hit the poorest the hardest. While we’re on the subject, I noticed something interesting this week: one of the reasons the Tories cite for opposing the Alternative vote method is that, had it been in use last year, Gordon brown could still be in power. What does that say about the Tory mentality? They don’t give a rats ass about the will of the people, as long as they get to rule. Surely such people have no place in government and should be removed from power as soon as possible.

Regular readers of my blog will know that I usually disdain football, favouring gentler, more noble sports like cricket. Yet for certain matches and tournaments I have made exceptions, and have become as worked up as the rest of the country over the silly ball-kicking game. I think today will be such an occasion. As we all know, today Manchester united, one of the biggest clubs in the history of sport, play Crawley, a place I only know exists because my friend Emma comes from there. Being a northerner, I usually support Manchester when they play big teams. Yet I am a romantic, so today I want the smaller team to win. It would be awesome if Crawley pulled it off, wouldn’t it? In a way it would demonstrate, once and for all, that no matter how much money you have you can still be beaten by those with passion. It’d help cut a few egos down to size too.

I’ll therefore probably take myself round to the pub later, position myself near the screen, and hope against hope for the biggest upset of all time. Of course, my realistic side says it’ll be something like five nill to Manchester, but we can all dream, can’t we?

Surely anyone but a complete fool can see CaMoron’s ‘big society’ for the bullshit it is. He somehow expects the voluntary sector to magically step in and undo the damage caused by his cuts. Call me a pessimist, but that won’t work: volunteering is wonderful, but it won’t put food on the table. Things need doing – roads need sweeping, cripples need feeding – but it is unfair to expect people to do such things for free. What will happen, I strongly suspect, is that, as the state is reduced, it will be the private rather than the voluntary sector which will step in. CaMoron knows this, and all his talk of big society and encouraging altruism is a shallow front for the Tory desire to open things up to the free market.

I struck upon an idea last night which may be somewhat controversial. Feel free to leave a comment or email me if you disagree. Mind you speaking of which, I must first say that I have no intention of killing any bar staff, especially if it means traipsing halfway across London to do so, and I was never as drunk as Ricardio describes. Seldom anyway; and I certainly wasn’t that drunk on Sunday.

That aside, yesterday I stated to wonder whether there was a difference between ‘old crips’ and new crips’ in terms of attitude. Broadly – and this is essentially an arbitrary division – old crips are those with congenital conditions, who have been disabled from birth; new crips are those who have become disabled, through accident or otherwise, later in life. I was on facebook and I came across a woman complaining vehemently that disabled toilets shouldn’t be called disabled toilets but accessible toilets. I thought, ”relax, there are far bigger battles to fight than what bogs are called.” I know the person who said this, and they are a new crip. It occurred to me that, in my experience, those who have been disabled from birth are more likely to let such things slide, having learned over the years that some battles just aren’t worth the energy. I think one can be too combattative, and that this leads to a situation where one rails against the entire world. It’s unhealthy.

New crips are more likely to rail; I think, in some ways, they have more reason to. Yet I think they must learn to calm down, to accept the world as it is sometimes. They must learn, as we did as infants, that the world can never truly be how you want it to be.

I decided not to mention a fairly important detail in my entry yesterday, as I didn’t think it fitted the mood I was trying to convey, but which I think would be well worth recording today. As I said, we went to a pub just off Leicester square. It was quite an old place – the type of pub with a low ceiling and a real fire. Best of all, it had Leffe on tap. I was just getting into the live music when I decided it was time for another pint, so I asked Adrian to go and buy one for me. However, he soon returned with no pint and all the cash I’d given him – apparently, the woman at the bar had refused to serve us, accusing Adrian of being irresponsible for letting disabled people drink too much.

We left in a hurry. It wasn’t as if I’d drunk a lot. Surely it’s up to us and us alone how much we drink. Granted, bar staff have the right to refuse to serve anyone if they see fit, but what this woman apparently said was condescending, patronising and downright offensive.

Earlier today I came to the conclusion that, of any given time throughout the week, I like Sunday afternoons the best. Throughout my life, Sunday afternoons have been the most homely and warm: it was always a Sunday afternoon when my parents drove us home after visiting my grandparents in London, or, later, dropping mark off every term in oxford. It was on Sunday afternoons that I used to settle down before going back to university on Monday morning; a time to watch Time team, David Attenborough, or Michael Palin – the three best things on television.

I was thinking about this earlier. It occurred to me that, time being time, the Sunday afternoons of my past can never be revisited, although their memory remains. I’ll probably never again drive home with my parents after visiting my grandmother, get fed a sandwich by mum and then settle down to watch Tony Robinson drone on about the past. Yet the spirit of Sunday afternoons remains.

We were just up in London, sorting out bits and peices. We decided to get a quick drink in a pub, just off Leicester square. I was sitting by the fire, listening to the live music, when it occurred to me how good life was. It was Sunday afternoon: maybe not like the Sunday afternoons of the past, of long sleepy car rides and good TV to look forward to; but Sunday afternoons with Lyn, as great as they ever were – exploring this great city, and then coming home to eat dinner, snuggle, and look forward to the week ahead.

I have two or three short things to say today. Firstly, in denying prisoners the vote I think that the Tories have demonstrated how simplistically they view the world. In many respects, criminals are victims of societal constraints and pressures. Denying them the right to vote simply pushes them further away from society. This is an utterly stupid, narrow-minded move on the part of the government. Of course, people argue that if you have perpetrated a crime, you should no longer have the full rights of a citizen, but I think this is to view prisoners as untermench – innately bad people who do not deserve to be seen as fully human.

Secondly, I have been fascinated to watch events unfolding in Egypt. When I last saw the news, yesterday evening, mubarack had stepped down. I find this remarkable, not least because it is pretty much the first real revolution I’ve had the chance to watch live. Question is, how much can we in the west interfere: we can’t interfere too much or we risk accusations of imperialism; yet that means we risk extremists like the Muslim brotherhood coming to power, which would not be good. It is very complex when you think about it: we must respect the will of the Egyptian people, but what if that will is to elect leaders whose views run directly counter to our liberal, democratic values.

Both of these things are part of what I call the paradox of liberalism. Liberalism, or the belief in tolerance, seems to bring up many contradictions with itself. but this doesn’t mean we should disregard it for a simpler, more hard-line approach. It seems to me that part of being a liberal is forever being conscious of the contradictions and complexities involved in life. Only then can we see the world as it truly is.

It made me very happy indeed to watch Madagascar, narrated by David Attenborough, last night. I don’t know why, but I find his programmes intriguing. It’s not just that they are beautifully shot; I find it incredible to reflect on the fact that Sir David has been on television since before my parents were born, yet still produces some of the best programmes on television. Of course, part of the credit must go to the BBC natural History unit for taking such beautiful footage, but it is Attenborough, with his engaging yet relaxing narration style, who makes those shows so good. I was thinking about it last night – even when I was young I found his shows amazing: I remember once, when I was young, being very upset at seeing a small monkey gradually get weaker and fall out of a tree. I immediately crawled over to mum for a hug, wanting to know why the camera crew didn’t help. Mum explained that this was part of nature. I suppose it goes to show how much this great man has contributed to the public understanding of nature – I really hope he continues to do so for a long time yet.

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.