It has been a slow, long day. Every year before now I’ve been at school, college or university at this time of year, so it’s weird to me at home. Truth be told I cannot help but feel rather disheartened by it all – I can’t really go out in this weather, and I still don’t have a PA to drive me places. So I’m pretty much stuck at my pc, or in front of the TV. I’d like a job, but there are none. Oh well, I’m sure something will come up. It just seems so anticlimactic after the last two weeks.

I think I need to make a rash decision. I need to do something which goes against all my instincts: I’ve decided not to drink for a week. That’s right – no more alcohol till Friday! I decided I need to detox. I’ve had a drink almost every night for a couple of weeks at least and want to see if I feel any better if I stay off the booze. It’s not that I feel particularly bad, but it may help to give my liver a rest after Amsterdam.

I assure you that I have not died. I haven’t been eaten by a lion or run over by a monster truck or anything. I’ve just been busy – very busy. It feels like ages since I sat at this desk; so much so that the keys feel weird.

Anyway, where to start? More to the point, what to put in and take out. I feel like I’ve been all over the place, but I’ve just been in London, then Amsterdam. Last week I was at Lyn’s in London; we had a great time, as ever. I got to meet Lyn’s neighbours, dan and paula, who turned out to be excellent people. in a bizarre twist of events, a week ago last Wednesday I found myself in a taxi, with Lyn, Lyn’s p.a zita and Paula’s dad from cornwall crossing London to get my passport renewed. I had forgotten to check it’s expiry date (never knew passports went off); mum noticed as she was packing for me and quickly arranged for me to pick up a replacement in the capital. This meant a trip across the city with Lyn; but we were short of a PA. so, Lyn’s neighbours dad was staying next door, and he stepped in to avoid a shopping trip with his wife. What an awesome day that was. I also mannaged to meet James cullis down there – I’ve been talking to him for a while, and we finally managed to meet in person near the london eye.

Last Monday, new passport safely in my bumbag, I caught the train from Euston to Crewe. Dad picked me up from Crewe and took me to charlottes in Chester. I know it would have been far simpler to travel up Tuesday with Lyn, but in London I need my electric chair, but I can’t take tat thing on an aeroplane. So back up north I came, swapping bags and chairs on the way, meeting charlotte in Chester. The next day, her dad – truly a capital fellow – took us up to the airport where we met back up with Lyn and her PA Esther. And then the fun began.

As with my blog about the Paris trip, writing a step by step account would be far too tedious, although it feels like we didn’t do quite so much this time probably because it was a slightly shorter trip. Highlights included watching a dude play a guitar angrily, getting woken by some very tuneful bells every hour, and getting scared shitless by a cake. I am never going near cake from Amsterdam again. Never never bloody never! We also went to see an improvised comedy show; Charlie got us free tickets from a couple of her friends who live out there. It was a nice gesture, although I don’t actually remember much about it, but that’s another story.

We did intend to go on a canal tour too, but although the jetty had a lift none of the boats where wheelchair accessible, so that was a non-starter. I would have been OK, as I can get out of my chair, but Lyn can’t. it was a pity as I was looking forward to cuddling Lyn as we floated down the canals.

Amsterdam, then, is an amazing city: Crazy as hell, flat as a pancake and full of tourists, but nevertheless amazing. A trip with Lyn was long overdue, and charlotte once again excelled herself. I hope they both liked it; I’m pretty certain they did. Whether we’ll all take another trip together remains very much to be seen, but I certainly hope we do. We flew home yesterday, and after attending a Halloween party last night at charlie’s, my parents picked me up from Chester this morning. It’s been quite a couple of weeks.

This post is written by Luke, Matthew’s brother. Matthew is currently travelling around, and won’t be able to post another update until Sunday.

I think the old adage that there’s ‘never a truer word that’s said in jest’ holds especially true of this Ouch article. It’s author point out that many disabled people have acquired excellent admin and people-management skills just by managing their own lives. Many such skills are surely transferable into other areas of life. Why is it, then, that disabled people find it the hardest to find employment? I can think of two or three of my crip friends who would make excellent managers if they had the opportunity.

I enjoyed yesterday very much. You know, I’d given up on seeing Becca ever again; I kind of assumed she thought I was a prat. But no: she invited me up a few days ago in order to facilitate a meeting between me and a prospective new PA. Steve came to mine, and we headed to beccas together.

She’s living with Phoebe, her p.a. I’m not too sure of the precise arrangements, but it seems to work well. Becca is pretty much as I remembered really – still very into disability politics, rights and DAN. I’m seriously thinking about getting myself into the Manchester scene – they told me about several people, including Claire Lewis, who I’m rather eager to meet.

Becca has a very cool van with tail lift and hand controls which I may be forced to steal – it was awesome. We went to the Trafford Centre in it for dinner.. it was nice to get to know Becca again, as well as phoebe and Steve; I know things won’t be like before, and neither of us want them to be, but it felt good to re-establish old links and to create new ones.

It has been something of a nonentity type of day. Mum’s at work and dads away on business so I’ve just been stuck here at home. Did a bit – quite a lot actually – to my thesis, spoke to a few people online, but that’s about it. I guess the most noteworthy thing that happened today was that I’ve been in contact with the six women I respect the most: Becca, Kate, Charlie, Esther, Lyn and mum. Amazing!…Ok, maybe not.

I guess the next few days should be interesting. I go up to meet a prospective new PA on Tuesday. Interestingly, he’s a good friend of Becca, so she’s acting as a gobetween in Manchester. As well as getting a new PA, it’ll be good to see Becca again after so long.

Then on Friday I go down to see Lyn. It feels like ages since I’ve seen her, and I’ll get to spend the whole week with her. Then, a day or two after, we go to Amsterdam together.

I don’t know why it is, then, that I’ve felt so low these past two days. I’m worried about my thesis, and I’m worried about my future. I miss the freedom I had at uni. Oh well – I have Tuesday to look forward to, then Lyn on Friday. It’s getting to the stage again where I see any trip out as an event.

here’s empirical proof that the yanks know sod all about beer

This sort of reminds me of myself as a child. Whenever I got angry with my parents – basically when they’d told me off, or when I wanted some attention – I used to ‘leave home’. Off I’d go, cuddles my monkey in my hand, up the road. Unlike the kid in the film though, I used to turn back when I noticed nobody was following me. Although I did manage too petrify mum and grandma once by going missing round the mere for a couple of hours.

Yesterday was interesting. I went over to Crewe to meet with Alan, then to Esther’s. she invited me to a show at the lyceum called ‘That’ll be the Day’ – sort of a review of old 50s rock/pop songs. Kind of cool. I stayed the night at hers and dad picked me up this morning.

My master’s thesis is starting to move again. It should be done soon. Alan has emailed mike Pearson to be my second marker – he’s an old friend of Lyn’s at the university of Aberystwyth. I hope that counts in my favour and that he’s not too harsh a marker.

Alan seems to really think I should do a PhD. I’m still very much in two minds about it. It’s not something one undertakes lightly, and I’m not sure I’m up to it. My masters has lasted long enough as it is. Another question is what to do it on? There is plenty of room left for more research into cinephilia and fandom, but part of me wonders whether I should try to link my disability into that; it is, after all, a highly personal discourse. Another question is where – Alan says I should move on from MMU, and, as much as I love the place, I agree. But this would put the whole idea of moving to alsager on hold, unless I did it at staffs uni, stoke, and I don’t even know whether they’ll take me. I’m loathe to do that – I really want my own place as soon as possible, with my own big bed with a Lyn in it! It seems I have much to think about.

Perhaps I better explain how I see things personally. I start with the central premise that all people are equal and are of equal worth. From this it follows that, given that we are all different, there is no such thing as ‘normal’. We do, however, have different abilities and skills. Thus I think that everyone should be treated equally, and think it unfair that some people get paid vast amounts more than others when we all contribute to society. For example, why are footballers paid so much more than teachers? Teachers are vital for education, working bloody long hours, but footballers just run around a field for 90 minutes. My views are also tainted by my disability: you don’t have to have a job to be said to contribute to society, and indeed why do you have to contribute to society to have rights? I have known people who cannot get jobs, yet have just as much right to wealth as anyone else. This leads me to a left of centre stance, with higher taxation for the rich to subsidise the poor. This leads me to believe that power must be central to regulate all this. on the other hand, it would be more democratic as everyone would have equal access to education and therefore power. We need to get rid of the gap between rich and poor in order to maximise human potential. We need to get rid of the class system and the perpetuation of wealth in the hands of the few. The contradiction, however, is this: how can we respect the rights of people to live as they whish, while at the same time imposing higher taxes upon them? It all depends on people being altruistic and putting equality before greed.

This morning the Tories have shown their true intent. They plan to get one in five people off incapacity benefit and into work, thereby saving £600 million. This money will then go on schemes to get people back into work. Never have I heard anything more barbaric, selfish or arrogant: the Tories seem to think that people choose to be on benefit, as if they are too lazy to get a job. Any intelligent person will know that that is not the case – most of my friends want desperately to work, but there are simply no jobs that they can do. Now we will worry that, if the Tories get in, we could get our benefits taken from us and have to live off charity.

And what are the Tories planning to do with the money they save, other than lining their own pockets? Reforms to the education system, including the introduction of more vocational schools and courses. In other words, a return to the old repressive 11+ system, where kids who failed were blighted for life. It was a system designed to perpetuate class barriers, despite Tory bull about a parity of esteem. Now the Tories are trying to justify reinstating such a system by trotting out a load of crap about ‘choice’ and the decentralisation of power, but anyone can see that that’s just a front for the same old Tory policies, coming from a group of people who thinks it’s their birthright to rule. To such people, we crips are, at best, lazy, and at worst a pest to be got rid of.

I was up in Manchester today. We had lunch with Mrs. Yu and Yan, my future sister in law. I like yan very much, not least because she sticks up for me, and I’m walming to Mrs yu. She teaches at university – not sure which – and is keen for me to write articles.

The family is growing. Not long ago, it was just us five. Now I virtually have two sisters in law, and I have Lyn, of course. We’re also spread all over the place – Luke and yan are in Muswell hill, Kat and mark last week moved from Paris to Hamburg, and I’m oscillating between Congleton and London, trying to find a home in alsager. It’s rather cool, if hard to keep track of everyone sometimes, especially when figuring in my cousins. But, as I realised after writing yesterday’s entry, at least I can always get a good meat pie and free beer here!

It seems I have a problem. I would very much like to be independent of my parents sometime soon, and I think they wholeheartedly agree. The thing is, they aren’t confident in my abilities, so this afternoon they gave me the task of writing a budget out as an exercise. At first I thought this would be easy, but I somehow worked out that my income would be £3000 per anum, my outgoing £25000. I don’t know what went wrong, and now I feel stupid. I’ll bee stuck here forever, it seems. Any suggestions where I went wrong, or how I can free myself.

I have decided I’ve had enough. I’m sick of being the butt of kids’ jokes; of being laughed at. I was just rolling through the park, and there were loads of kids just staring and laughing. It is, of course, because I have cp, but I like having cp: I like rolling around in my chair; I like waking up with Lyn; I like going to visit the joneses. None of this would have happened had I not had c.p, so I’m pleased I have it. I love being me, but to these little kids being me is something to be ridiculed. I say no: it must end. I don’t know how to stop it, short of wringing the little shits necks, but I’ve had enough. I don’t want to become a ‘crip with a chip, but it’s just not fair.

I just found something most amusing. I was in town doing a passable impression of Walter Benjamin when I overheard a group of the local youth talking. Although it’s very likely, I can’t be absolutely sure they were referring to me, but I think I heard one lad say ‘we call him Turbo Tom’ as they passed. This amuses me greatly.

I suppose it’s only natural: I zoom around town, rarely stopping to talk, so I’m probably something of a mystery to these kids. I suppose, too, that I should be thankful that they don’t call me anything crueller. But it’s kind of weird to realise that I’m one of those town characters who gets nicknamed, like the town drunk or local old crone.

As you guys know I try to be as liberal, open minded and as tolerant as I can be. I generally feel that people should be free to do as they wish, provided that it does not hurt anyone else. But this morning I came across a group of people which I’m having problems getting my head around: people who actually seek to cut off their own limbs. Watch this.

My first reaction is to ask why? Why would anyone seek to impair themselves? I know first hand what a bugger having to use a wheelchair can often be. I have known people without the use of their legs. So my first reaction is that they should be prevented from doing this.

If you start to think about it, it gets more interesting though. Why shouldn’t some people actively seek to join the disability community? What is the difference between this and a man going through surgery to become a woman? The people seem to desire it as much as a transgendered person desires to transition. If we crips are truly equal to everyone else, why shouldn’t some people join our ranks as a lifestyle choice?

The answer is as obvious as it is problematic. Disabled people face serious disadvantages, so much so that you question the sanity off anyone who wants to chop off their legs. Yet to admit this means admitting that being disabled is somehow inferior to being able-bodied. Mind you, one could argue that, due to sexism, a man would have to be nuts to seek to become a woman; but the counterargument would be that A) sexism is not innate but a social construct, and is diminishing, and B) all you’re doing is swapping one social and sexual role for another, with no innate loss of status or ability. In other words, unlike sexism, there is a physical dimension to prejudice against disabled people – it places you at a physical disadvantage. A disadvantage so big that I do not think that this phenomenon can be seen in the same light as any other ‘lifestyle choice’. Thus, this is where even I might have to draw the line. The problem is, this forces one into saying that having a disability is iinferior to not having one, which I cannot do.

Late yesterday afternoon, my friend james brought something very interesting to my attention. UKIP has started the process of electing a new leader, and a guy called Daniel Baldwin has thrown his hat in. what is interesting, though, is that Baldwin has Cerebral Palsy.

Ordinarily, I try to ignore UKIP in the hopes that they might just go away. Anyone with any intelligence can see they are just BNP-lite, appealing to the fascists who don’t like to admit to being fascist, even to themselves. Their isolationist, anti-Europe policies would make the UK a pariah, but noooo, they’re not fascists. That’s just what the BNP says too.

Anyway, what, then, is this dude with CP doing in this far-right party, let alone running for it’s leadership? Of course, a person with CP can hold any views he or she likes, but in my experience having a congenital disability tends to make you open minded and tolerant. You yourself want to be tolerated, so you become more tolerant yourself. it baffles me, then, why this dude is even a contender.

Even more intriguing, though, is the prospect of him winning. I doubt this would happen, of course. The party is just too bigoted. As one UKIP supporter on a message board stated: ”Sorry to be negative but this strikes me as gesture politics. While Daniel maybe able to do a lot of good for the cause I simply do not believe that anyone with cerebral palsy is capable of leading a serious political party.” He clearly has underestimated people with cp and has confused UKIP with a ‘serious political party.”

That aside, what if Baldwin does indeed win? Firstly, I think it would just be seen as a stunt. People would dismiss it as a bit of cynical PR – as UKIP trying to appear nice and tolerant. Yet this might, in turn, split the party between those who crave validation as a modern progressive party and those who want it to reject tolerance and cling firmly to the far right. Moreover, if I’m right about people with CP generally being more tolerant, Baldwin (who, I should add, used to be in new Labour) will probably try to steer the party back towards the centre. The combined effects of this, I think, will be catastrophic for the party, causing all sorts of in-fighting and fracturing along ideological lines, which might just send the bunch of morons over the brink into political oblivion.

Let’s all look forward to the election of the first party leader with cerebral palsy.

I do not know why the Americans are so scared of healthcare systems line the NHS. Apparently, they seem to think it would involve panels of doctors deciding who lives and who dies, and other such absurdities. There have been rallies in protest. Indeed, one writer apparently pointed out that, had Stephen hawking been born under a system like the NHS, he would have been killed. Professor H wrote to the journalist in question and pointed out that, as a brit it was the NHS that saved his life.

Yet you can see the hysteria and muddled thinking involved here. The right-wing Americans seem to think Obama is trying to introduce communism into their country, not being able to differentiate between communism and fascism, or communism and a state-cantered model of healthcare free for all. Moreover, without the NHS I and many of my disabled friends – especially those I know from school – wouldn’t be around today. I know I’ve written about this before, but I’m still gobsmacked by how the yanks can think their draconian system can be better and fairer than a system like the NHS.

I got a mixed reaction to my last entry: two of my disabled friends told me they thought it was a very good entry, while dad said he thought it too introspective and self-analytical. Sorry dad, but I like introspection, and think it important I keep trying to define my place in the world. I reckon it helps to let others know that we crips can be as self-consciously neurotic as anyone else.

Anyway, my week with Lyn went well. I could not bring my electric wheelchair this time, so we were limited in what we could get up to. Nevertheless, I saw a bit more of the capital, and had two or three truly great meals, including a Mexican. I borrowed Lyn’s manual chair while Lyn used her electric, and we had a great time doing what two lovers would generally do in central London: shopping, eating, kissing. Mind you, we had to take taxis everywhere rather than busses, which turned out to be considerably more expensive. All being well, I should be back at hers soon, just before we go to Amsterdam with charlotte; I can’t wait.

I am off to London tomorrow to see my girlfriend for a few days. I cannot wait, to be honest. Going down to Lyn’s makes me feel so alive.

We’ve been together for over a year now. I think we have an extremely stable, pleasurable relationship, and we both get a lot from it. Looking back, though, it’s funny to remember that I once thought that my life would be one of solitude. I once presumed, back at school, that because I had cerebral palsy, making fiends would be impossible, let alone finding partners. Now I wonder how I could ever think that. I look up at my bedroom walls and see the framed photographs Charlie gave me; or the montage I made of all my friends, hanging just above my right shoulder. How wrong I was.

I find myself wondering, though, how many other disabled people think like I did? At Hebden, I was shut away from the mainstream community all my life; I had no friends outside school. As a kid mum sent us to cubs, then scouts, where I was bullied. Thus I formed the opinion that I was and would always be something of an outcast, a feeling which I did not fully shake until South Cheshire College. Funnily enough, it was another group of outcasts – Goths – who befriended ,me at the student union. They accepted me, inviting me to their scary little performances: it was then that my attitude began to change. The trip to berlin also helped.

It was just before that trip that I made a particularly pessimistic blog entry, one which infuriated a certain Ms Young and Miss Caryer so much that they replied. I think that reply changed my life for the better. Those two crazies taught me that I wasn’t an outcast and that I could have relationships – I was just like anyone else.

They were right, of course. University drove that lesson home even further. In fact, if any of my friends knew I’d ever thought this way, they would be rather puzzled. Either that or they would tell me not to be so ridiculous. It was those days, then, that my life changed: I became myself.

Dad took me back to alsager today. I had to go to return some books, but it is weird. We just went to thee library, then to the wes for a coffee before coming home. Yet it felt very odd – at one point I almost felt like crying. I have so many memories of that campus, built up over five years: memories of my friends and of the great times. It felt sort of haunted. I cannot believe that place is now largely in my past and is soon to be demolished. Going back there today was necessary, but I do not think I will ever go there again.

Although it is fair to say that I have questioned the methods of those who fight for disability rights, I have rarely questioned the motives. It has always been quite clear to me that we, as a minority, are discriminated against, not explicitly, like black people once were, but implicitly. I see it all the time: steps up to shops, being made fun of by kids, being treated like a child by people in shops. While no more or no less evil, the form of discrimination we crips face is, in a way, much more incidious than the discrimination other people face in that it is harder to get rid of.

I say all this because I was talking the other night to a person who denied all this. to him, there is no point to DAN or the disability rights commission. We had equality, according to him. People who claim such things make me very angry: it seems to me that they live in some sort of fantasy land. The guy in question has been fed all kinds of Tory bullshit by his parents; he says he likes ‘order’, whatever the fuck that is. The guy has CP, yet has no idea of how hard disabled people had to fight for the rights he now enjoys, or of the need to continue fighting for true equality.

I have been watching the comments made about the video me and Lyn made with interest. It is a video of us dressed in ballet outfits and dancing to Tchaikovsky. The text responses to it on youtube have almost universally been negative, but both me and Lyn are fascinated by them, not to mention highly amused. Some just call us fags, fairies or queers, of course, but what interests me is that some people think that the video was not of mine and Lyn’s instigation, and that some people have dressed two learning disabled men up and forced them to dance. People have made comments like ” if this wasnt for humor then what would it be for? im sure that the people who helped them get into their costumes were cracking the fuck up.” Or ” Making fun of the handicapped. You people fucking sicken me.”. I don’t think people realise that making this film was entirely mine and Lyn’s idea, and that the person who helped us dress – karolyna – was acting on our instructions. They assume we were forced to do it, not realising we knew precisely what we were letting ourselves in for

This, in a way, alters the dynamic. We knew we were going to get flack for making this video; in a way, we love to see such nasty comments – the nastier the better. The joke is on the commenters, for they are the ones who have been manipulated, not us. In this sense, the video is about power: the power of having a secret joke between me and Lyn. The people who comment don’t realise that the video was made, in part, precisely to solicit such comments, and so the jokes on them. It’s fascinating to see the misconceptions people have about people like us. The video is thus about control and manipulation; about how erratic we can make the commenters. It is an exercise in freedom, power, and diversity. It’s also just for fun Wait til they see what we’re planning to make next.

link

My parents and I are trying to make the most of this Indian summer we’re having, so today we went to Wales. Unfortunately we didn’t know where Lyn was so we couldn’t meet her, but instead we headed for rhyl. Mum and dad thought going there would be a good idea, so off we went. Rhyl, let’s just say, was disappointing, and after a walk along the promenade and a bite to eat, we left. We headed south, into Wales.

As we went, we were amazed at how many motorcyclists there were out. On a nice day like today, a few are to be expected, but not the hundreds we were passing. When we stopped next at a roadside eatery, we got talking to a couple of bikers. They were nice chaps, wearing typical biker’s leathers, one sporting the type of beard most harley-riders wear. It turns out it was a type of protest: a disproportionate number of bikers have been pulled over by police – there is some kind of crackdown. Police claim it saves lives, but this is obviously an infringement of biker’s freedom. link.

I naturally support the protest. People’s voices must be heard. It got me thinking about how I belong, as a disabled person, t a minority where virtually every one of my rights has to have been fought for – the right to decent education, the right to vote, even in some cases the right to communicate. Thus I feel that people’s views must be heard; protest must always be welcome. Heading back from Wales, then, seeing so many bikes made me smile.

I was thinking today about DAN, so I looked up some of their videos on Youtube. You know, I feel very ashamed that I once criticised them for being too reactionary. One video dated from 1995; back then, we crips had no rights. I love the fact that all London busses and many London tube stations are now accessible, but that only happened because of DAN. Poling stations are becoming more accessible because of DAN; inclusion is being implemented because of organisations like dan, and so on. I see now that sometimes direct action must be taken if we are to achieve equality. For the record I would like to apologise to anyone in DAN who I may have offended, and I look forward to working with you.

It has been a quiet day around here. Truth is I feel a little fed up. Lyn has gone to Wales today; I usually talk to her throughout the day, and it feels quite odd not being able to chat over msn. I miss her, but I really hope she’s having fun. I think she’s gone to some sort of a reunion of a music group. If I knew where it was I would probably be begging dad to drive me to Wales by now.

Today is also charlotte’s birthday. [pause in writing – charlotte calls, I am called for dinner and me and dad watch Defiance]. I hope she has a great birthday, and that she likes the gift me and Lyn sent. I whish I could be with her, too, but I’m sure she’s having fun too. Mind you, she has school tomorrow so she can’t party too hard poor Charlie!

I miss them both in different ways. I emailed the bus company again today, without much success, so I still can’t really get anywhere independently. Oh well, at least we have phones and text messages!

I invited my friend lee over today – I think I needed a break. We went out, first to see if our friend Ian was in, which he wasn’t, then to the caf in the park. It’s pretty much the nicest place in town, and the only decent place to take a friend for coffee. As usual, Lee did most of the talking; I’m more of a listener.

I must admit, however, at becoming more than a little depressed at what he was saying. He seems to have the kind of pessimistic lethargy that so many of our generation have. He was failed by school, far moreso than me. After school, he did some kind of bookkeeping course, which frankly seems totally unsuited for him, but hasn’t gone ay further. It isn’t as if Lee isn’t bright – I believe him to be as bright as I am – just that he lacks direction and confidence. The problem is, he doesn’t know what truly interests him; nothing seems to excite him, like film excites me. There must be something, of course, but the problem is he has given up looking. This is, in my opinion, one of the biggest failings of the special school system: they teach kids not to dream, not to push themselves, and to accept second best.

I am getting irritated by the Americans criticising the NHS. They see it, of course, as a socialist scheme, and thus innately evil. They seem to think that it does not work, and that it fails many people. while anyone would admit it has it’s faults, as a disabled person I know beyond doubt that the nhs is a far better system than the draconian, barbaric system in America. In the states, if you cannot afford medical insurance, you’re screwed; you can only hope for second rate medical aid. At least here, you get the same high standard of care regardless of wealth. How the Americans can claim that a system where the rich can live comfortably while the poor die is better than a system where everyone is treated equally is beyond me. And as for certain recent comments about professor hawking, it is only in Britain that he could have survived. were he american and poor, it would have been a great loss to cosmology.

Not much happened today, so I haven’t got much to write bout tonight. I just did a search for VOCAs on youtube, hoping for, say, a demonstration of the new-style lightwriter which I could show my parents. The first result was this. I don’t know who made it, or what it’s about, but it’s just too funny not to mention.

Just a quick blog entry tonight to say that I am still alive. We just got back from London. Cypriots have a tradition of marking the anniversary of a relatives death, and it was my grandfather’s nimosinoh this weekend. I did manage to go see Lyn though; the original pan was for me to go over to hers just for Friday afternoon, but I then thought it wiser (and more fun) to stay the night.

I got back on Saturday afternoon. We had my future sister-in-law and her mum round for dinner. It was great fun; yan’s mum seems very intelligent and great fun, and I look forward to getting to know her. I think I impressed her.

This morning we went to church, then back to yeaya’s for lunch. We set off for home rather later than usual, and got in about half six. I’m tired, and I’m looking forward to a nice quiet evening.

As I have said on here before, I have a theory that having a condition like cerebral palsy frees one up to express what others may repress. To a certain extent, the normal rules do not apply, so we can – perhaps – do things others cannot. In my case, I dress up and experiment with femininity and my feminine side; Lyn went one (huge) step further and transitioned permanently. I know that’s an oversimplification, especially in Lyn’s case, but I think that having cp sometimes makes you freer to explore other facets of one’s personality. Basically, you come to the conclusion that people will stare anyway, so you might as well give them a decent reason to and/or give voice to desires that may otherwise be hidden.

However, this got me wondering: how else might this phenomenon show itself? Gender is one way, perhaps the most obvious, but I’d be willing to bet that other crips have found other ways to explore freakism. After all, not everybody looks as cute as me in a tutu, or shares my fascination with femininity, and certainly not everyone has Lyn’s guts. How, then, might this freakism show itself other than along gender lines? There must be other disabled extroverts out there who have come to the same conclusions I have, yet do not share my particular penchant. I would like to find out how other disabled people express their selves, and how much they internalise this ‘freak’ status. Is it just confined to people with cerebral palsy, or do people with other conditions play with their freak roles? Time to go freak hunting.

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It is rather apt that this article appeared on ouch now. My little brother Luke is going to be getting married soon. so posting a link to an article about marriage and disability seems to tick two or three boxes. Mind you, I doubt either Luke or yan will allow me to be their bridesmaid…

My parents friends went home earlier. To be honest, I think I was too pessimistic yesterday; after I blogged, I got changed and went downstairs. Rather than being sidelined, I felt as much as part of the conversation as anyone else. In fact, at one point last night, nick, lez and Pete were all up here looking through all my crazy shit. I showed them my blog, all my photos, my videos (including this one). they seemed very impressed with my draft thesis, and I told them a bit about film theory.

The conversation often got political at meal times. We’re all educated, thinking liberals, and there was a sort of consensus that the Tories will get in next year. This prospect really upsets me: whenever the Tories get in, the less fortunate in society suffer. CaMoron is loaded – do you really think he gives a shit about the likes of me? The conservatives simply care about themselves and what is best for them; theirs is a selfish, childish philosophy. As soon as they get in, they’ll just lurch to the right: say goodbye to stuff like the benefit system and the NHS.

In all, then, I really liked this weekend. I feel stimulated. Today we had a top-notch lunch up at the Swettenham Arms. I think mum and dad should have their friends over more often.

I suppose it was over-optimistic to hope for anything resembling a house party last night. We ended up having a quiet night, just talking, although I did have three or four drinks. My parents friends are quite nice blokes, although I think they’re not quite sure how to interact with me. Mostly I just sit there, listening to the conversation, contributing here and there (mostly witty comments). They’re my parents’ friends after all, so I don’t want to take centre stage. At the same time, I don’t want to hide myself away up here and withdraw from the action. What can I do, though? I feel rather out of place down there, yet rather antisocial if I stay up here. I think I’ll go back downstairs soon: I came up to check the cricket, blog, and talk to Lyn. Lyn has gone out, rain has stopped play, and this blog is almost done. But when I go downstairs I won’t be able to help feeling like a little kid who needs to keep quiet while the adults talk.

We have guests coming this afternoon. A few of my father’s university friends are coming to stay for the bank holiday, which is cool. It’s quite a rare event; I can hardly remember the last time it happened. I’m rather looking forward to it – the place is too quiet, especially without mark and Luke.

I’m not going back to alsager. For now I’m stuck here, then, in this big old house. It’s comfortable and safe, and food here is definitely better than in the Wes, but after the mad-cap days of uni, the place seems awfully sleepy. I’m looking forward to more people being here; hopefully there will be a little more noise. Mind you, I suppose a Steve and Chris style house party would be a little too much to expect. On the other hand, we have plenty of beer and vodka and other good things, and we have plenty of music to play, so who knows.

Oh well. I guess the days of dressing up and drinking till I fall asleep are over. Part of me thinks they’re gone forever, and that it’ll never be as good as it was at uni. But I still have my friends, just as my parents have theirs from Southampton. Who knows, maybe in 30 years, I’ll be the one out shopping for supplies before folk like Steve and charlotte and Emma come, while Lyn prepares the cake and fruit salad in the kitchen and our son writes self-pitying crap on his blog.

I suppose I had better admit this. I realised today that I have a prejudice: I hate boys. Not all boys, mind. Half my friends are male, after all. I mean a certain type of male, between twelve and twenty, who cuts his hair short and wears football shirts and hangs around on park benches with his mates. I don’t know why, but the sight of such people just makes me angry – I automatically think ‘scum’. I know, of course, that I’m resorting to stereotype; there’s no such thing as ‘scum’. But the way they look at me, as if I was some piece of shit; the way they snikker and talk about me; the way they seem to think they’re ‘hard’ and own the place, makes me want to shout at them. I’d like to tell them that I’m older than they are, that I have a degree, which is probably more than they’ll ever have. I’d tell them to stop looking at me, and to fuck off back to their mothers. I guess I’d just like a little respect, which, I guess, is what they want too, but unlike them I don’t feel I need to pretend to be ‘hard’.

In all my years in going there, I’m only just getting to know London properly. My parents took us down regularly as kids, but that was only to see our grandparents in Harlesden. Except for trips to see father Christmas in selfriges, we rarely went into the city centre. It would have been very difficult – my parents would have to cope with three extremely excitable young boys, one of whom was in a pram, then a wheelchair. Plus, these were the days before the busses with ramps and the tube station with lifts.

London, then, remained alien, and a little scary. It was a place of big houses, cars, and street lights which kept you awake at night. Truth be told, I didn’t like going there, for many years. Yet now, London has changed. The metropolis now seems a place to explore; still huge, but fear has been replaced by fascination. Last week, I saw London as I saw Paris; I fell in love with the south bank; I went over that cool new bridge; I saw Shakespeare’s globe. I saw a throbbing city full of history. The underground, I decided, ruled. The new busses are brilliant: accessible, yet red and double-decked as London busses should be.

However, these things aren’t perfect. There’s only one wheelchair space, meaning me and Lyn had to travel in convoy. I took the first bus, she took the second. Fortunately, the bus we needed came every 5 minutes or so. Yet I’d have much preferred to travel on the same bus, side by side, as a boyfriend should travel with his girlfriend. It seems as if nobody thinks us crips fall in love. It’s funny that, even so much progress has been made, I find myself longing for such little improvements.

Despite the fact Lyn uses macs, which for me constitute a terra incognita, I was able to check my email most days last week. On Thursday or thereabouts I received rather a cool one from a girl called Eva, in the states. She writes: ” I am a 26-year-old female with cerebral palsy and I have a video blog where I tape videos of people treating me bizarrely. My video camera is mounted to my wheelchair (very discreetly) and I basically just press record whenever I go out and then edit the good stuff. Then I write about the encounter. Its meant to show society’s views and treatment of disabled people. At times it can be quite funny and at other times very infuriating.” She asked me if I could post a link. Of course, this struck me as sub-zero; I mean, what a cool idea. She only has two such videos posted, but I really hope she makes more. This type of work really highlights the sort of stuff we crips face – stuff which most people I daresay just don’t notice.