I am off home shortly. I think I need another weekend at home, but while last week was a 007-oriented weekend, I’m in more of a star trek mood. I’m really looking forward to JJ Abrams’ Star Trek film, which opens next Friday. I don’t think I’ve been this nervous or ambivilant about a film since Lord of the Rings came to the screen: It looks like a complete reboot of the franchise so this could be either the final nail in Star Trek’s coffin, or its rebirth. It could go either way. Like a literary adaptation it must remain faithful to the original but at the same time reinvent it. I really hope the director succeeds, but I’m not sure it’s possible. Who knows, this could be the beginning of a new series, or sequence of films. Or it could be the last flight of the Enterprise before it’s placed in mothbsalls.

What hurts the most is the fact that I wasn’t consulted. On Tuesday, the cast of roadwork met in the screening room. I, as you know, couldn’t find them. Ricardio, it seems, didn’t show up due to personal issues. However, in both of our absences, the cast decided to cancel the show – Ricardio, they felt, had mucked them about too much. Quite frankly, and having had time to reflect on this, their decision pisses me off. My loyalties still lie with Ricardio, ultimately, and what the cast have done strikes me as unprofessional. We had commitments as a company; they should be followed through.

We have a meeting tonight at 7. time to make my opinions heard.

I really fancy a beer tonight. Now, I know what you’re gonna say: ”Matt, you always fancy a beer”, but it’s now been almost a week since I had any alcohol. Granted, my ribs still hurt, but…you know, the sun is out and one won’t hurt. Of course, it depends how this evening shapes up: I have business to conduct with jo and Ricardio if we can find him. Things basically turned pearshaped yesterday, and we need to clear up the mess. I’m not sure if drink would be a help or a hindrance.

One thing is certain, though: I ain’t going to brandies.

I went out earlier just before six, looking for Ricardio and co. They always rehearse at 6 on Tuesdays, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. I missed the last two due to my back, so may have missed an announcement, but it’s still both annoying and something of a mystery. On the upside, my ribs are hurting less: I’ve been monitoring the pain on a scale from one to ten, as a kind of mental game, and, aside from a few pangs, it hasn’t exceeded 4 or 5 all day. Plus, I had a very productive meeting with robin Nelson this morning: it seems my thesis might not be as bad as I feared!

Now back to looking for Ricardio.

While the pain in my ribs and back has not gone completely, it is now a damn sight better than it was. I think a weekend at home did me good. Mind you, it was agony at times – especially in bed Saturday night. I had to call my parents, who gave me a painkiller. Last night, however, I got a fairly good nights sleep, except that I had to lie on my right side all night which made my leg and arm go dead. This morning, though, I felt able to come back to uni. I have work to do, people to meet, and coffee to drink.

I think watching goldeneye helped.

My rib is either fractured, splintered or broken, so I’ve decided to go home this weekend for a bit of TLC and slob out in front of the television. Of course, they can’t do anything for ribs but give you painkillers, so the best thing for me to do is just keep as still as possible. This is easier said than done for a guy with CP. The thing is though, I don’t have a PC set up at home so I was in a bit of a dilemma as to whether to go. Half my life is centred around the internet, including my relationship with Lyn. I feel guilty when I can’t speak to her but I’ll try to commandeer my parents PC. On the plus side, Esther’s just reminded me that Goldeneye is on this weekend so that’s something to look forward to. Ordinarily I would ask Mum to make a martini to drink with it, but I’ve given up alcohol.

Well at least until after my ribs get better.

Falling is not as easy as it used to be. It used to be much less painful. I went to brandies last night for the neon night. You know me: I can’t resist that sort of stuff. There were all sorts of costumes there. I considered going in a catsuit or leotard, but in the end just put on my new green hoodie I got in London. It’s probably just as well, as about half ten I decided I needed the loo and promptly fell over getting out of my chair. It’s lucky I left the door unlocked because rob, noticing how long I’d been, came looking. We came home.

I woke up in pain. I think I’ve broken a rib or something. My p.a, coming to dress me, could tell something was wrong and called dad. He came, and got me a doctor’s appointment. He should be here soon.

Just when you feel all strong and independent, something like this happens, and knocks you back.

There is this guy on the internet who really has got me riled. I know, I know – I’m always getting riled by people online; I should stop, but half my life is online. This guy calls himself a ‘disabled tory’ and claims to hate liberalism. He told me last night that the French revolution was a mistake, and spouts a load of bull about class. Given he has cp, it is both an irony and a sign of how deluded this guy is that he cant realise it is only through liberal ideals that he enjoys the life he does. Only the state can level the playing field.

I am, of course, a left-leaning liberal. I believe that all people are equal, and should therefore have equal access to things like education and healthcare. All humans have equal potential, irrespective of economic background, ethnicity, ‘class’ or disability. In a way, I’m a communist: the state, as an extension of the people, should not be ruled by an elite. We should all have chance to go into politics run the country, or go into whatever profession we chose. This can only be done if everyone is treated equally, and starts from the same place. If we left market forces to rule the roost, as this moron seems to propose, only the most able and privileged and selfish would rise to the top, resulting in a waste of talent. After all, what about the likes of me? If pure capitalism ruled, we’d be left to starve, never mind that I have a pretty good brain on my head. Why this guy seems to want to cling to outdated values like class and privilege is beyond me. Wealth redistribution, albeit in a limited form, is the most just, intelligent and efficient way to achieve equality and advance society. The alternative is the lazes-faire politics of the nineteenth century.

on top of this, he’s also against the right to protest/riot, spouting some bull about social order or something. The right to protest – to make one’s voice heard – is sacrosanct. What did Mandela do if not protest? Or Gandhi? Or Dr. King? Ballot boxes are good, but sometimes they do not go far enough. thus, to deny the right to civil disobedience – for that is what a riot is – smacks of fascism. Of course, peaceful protests are more respectable and effective than riots, but to deny the right to riot frankly runs counter to all civilisation and democracy.

fool.

It used to really get my goat that my brothers had girlfriends and I didn’t. not just my brothers, but my cousins too. They’re all in happy relationships. Marks been going out with Kat for ages; Luke has yan; my cousin Cyril has Saran; Chris has tom, and alex is married to Suelane. I used to feel very left out, especially when we all got together. But this weekend it struck me that that was no longer so. It’s been a year since I first met Lyn in the flesh; a great year. Okay, it’s had it’s ups and downs, but I think I needed to be sure that she was the one. now I look forward to the day when we’re all together – Lyn by me, Kat and mark, Luke with yan, and so on. Aye, that would be great!

My parents just dropped me off after a weekend in London. It was Greek Easter – the orthodox calendar being slightly out of alignment with the catholic one – so we went down there to celebrate with my grandmother. I’m pleased to say that I had a great time this year. I usually get bored sitting around yaiya’s house, but on Saturday, my cousin’s Christina and Cyril, and Chris’s boyfriend Tom, pushed me into London city centre for a few hours.

I have never actually explored London; not in any great depth, anyway. It was great, then, to spend some time visiting the aquarium, looking at sights, walking along the river with my family. I actually started to like our capital; okay, it lacks the sheer beauty of Paris, and it lacks the equivalent of the champs Ellyses in terms of a main focal street, but I found it not without it’s charm. Hopefully, this will be the first of many such adventures with my cousins.

Well, Saturday night was church; Sunday we mostly stayed in (but my bro Luke had arrived, so it was cool) and this morning we came home. Mind you, I’m now looking forward to living with Lyn in London even more. Imagine it – a thriving metropolis at my fingertips.

Check this out. According to the metro, a 33-year-old man with cp was banned from a pub for being ‘over the limit.’ He’d only had two pints of bud – which is pissweak tastless crap anyway – but was refused a third in order to prevent him from drink driving. Lol. I especially like the last paragraph: ”The chronically sick and disabled person’s act states that invalid carriages like Mr. Cook’s wheelchair are exempt from Traffic laws.

Ha. I is exempt!

Notions such as bravery and uniqueness have been jiggling around my head for a while now. As a disabled person, from time to time people call me brave; I guess I am unique but only inasmuch as everyone is unique. But what makes a person special? I feel that I am neither brave nor special – I’m just myself. Yet I feel that I have found a person who is indeed special in Lyn: she has had to have incredible fortitude and strength in her life. For a time she lived in a scope home, but she escaped and now lives independently in her own flat. On top of this she also had the strength enough to transition from male to female. I find her incredible, and would certainly call her brave, but Lyn has repeatedly denied this – she does not call herself brave, but sees herself simply as a regular person. She says that I am brave, which, of course, is nonsense.

You see the contradiction? I used to think of my friends with MD as brave and stoic, and I guess I still do, yet Andy was just Andy, and donno is just donno: they would simply see themselves as regular guys. Bravery is a perception bestowed upon you by someone else – ultimately, all you can do is be yourself. however, the bit I’ve been mulling over is how to square this with the need to make people question their attitudes? Is what I’ve written about ‘making heads turn’ the same as ‘being yourself’?

Well, for me I think it is. As for Lyn, the fact that she questions attitudes and expands minds is irrelevant to her. Truth be told, I dress as a girl both because it feels good and because it feels good. Thus there’s nothing brave about it, and the fact that it helps people question their attitudes to disability, gender and sexuality is a byproduct which I am happy to exploit.

I’m looking at the picture, taken outside the gym, of me and Charlie in zentai suits, and asking myself why we did that. Was it political? Did we go out to ask questions or make statements? I think it was more a case of having fun screwing with people’s heads; it had nothing to do with disability – indeed, Charlie probably got more attention than I did. Thus there was nothing political or brave about it.

There are some of us who, in a way, go around shouting: ‘look at me, I’m a cripple; see how political I am.’ I object to this behaviour as crass attention-seeking, but am I guilty of it too? Am I merely being an attention seeker, congratulating myself for being all political and provocative? I don’t think so; after all, you don’t have to have c.p to be a tranny, or to wear a zentai suit. I do such things because they feel good, and the fact that they have what I call a political effect is a secondary, if rather funky, by-product. I guess I’m just being myself, and intellectualising it afterwards.

I no longer think I will do a PhD; not this year at least. It’s time for me to admit I’m just not cut out for academic research at this level. It requires rigorous, painstaking work, and frankly I don’t have the patience or perhaps the intelligence for it. Either way, it’s getting too late in the academic year to apply for PhD places, let alone funding.

I have, however, a much better idea. I would like, this autumn, to go and live with Lyn in London. We intend to have a two month trial run to begin with, but if that works out – if Lyn doesn’t realise what a lazy good-for-nothing slob I actually am – it could be permanent. Imagine it: London! It truly is an exciting idea. Of course, we have much to work out in terms of our care etc, but I really think it’s time I made such a move.

I’m tired of waking up alone.

Dad and mum dropped me off here earlier. Yesterday was quite interesting: we were having a very late breakfast in the bank corner – me, Lyn and denny – after which the plan was to put Lyn on the bus to Crewe train station. However, we were leaving the restaurant as the bus whizzed by, and the next one would have been too late for Lyn’s train. Oh bugger! What were we gonna do? Denny tried to get a taxi – no luck. I was just starting to panic, then I had an idea: Dad. My father knows how to handle cars; he can get places quickly. That is not to say he breaks any laws, but….

So denny called dad, and we ran back to campus to wait. A short, somewhat nervous while later, I saw the family van come round the corner. So it was that my dad met my girlfriend at last; it wasn’t as scary as I’d feared. Dad just said ‘hi’, and helped denny put Lyn in the car. Then we were off, my dad using the precise skills we needed. In the end, we got to the station in good time, I kissed L goodbye, and Denny wheeled her into the station.

We headed back here to pick up my washing, then headed for home. Dad is my current hero: truth be told, it’s quite an unusual situation he’s in – having a son going out with a transsexual almost twice his age. He’s coping really well with it, as is mum. I had been worried about how they’d meet – dad has a nasty habit of accidentally scaring the living daylights out of our girlfriends, and he and Becca did not get on at all – but in the end the meeting went well. I think it was precisely the emergency we needed.

Just a quick one tonight. Me and Lyn have spent the day in Crewe, and have popped back for some omelettes before heading to the pub(s) later. It has been a very pleasant day – we ate pan au chocolate for lunch, sitting on benches outside Crewe campus; we went shopping together; then, predictably, we hit the pubs. At one stage, there was talk of a night out in Liverpool, which would have been awesome, but it was really too late to organise. I think tonight we’ll stay in alsager: not the coolest of places, but with the girl that you love, and a starry sky, what could be better?

I had intended to go home this weekend, but at 3 yesterday afternoon Lyn contacted me. She has nobody to PA for her this weekend – her only option would have been to coax denny down from Liverpool, which would have cost 80 quid. So I invited her up here, a far more sensible – and fun – option. She’s due here about three, so I’ll probably have a restless morning, trying to keep busy but not being able to concentrate. It’ll be great to see her, especially since I didn’t expect to see her for a few weeks. Not sure what we’re going to do though – I’ll pop over to Ricardio’s later to see if he and liz have plans.

I just had breakfast, during which I caught up with current affairs. Police chief bob Quick has just resigned, and apparently there were terror raids over at Liverpool john moores university. My gut reaction, I must admit, was ”how exciting – wonder if 007 is around somewhere”, but then, I am a movie geek. Nothing like that ever happens here at MMU. I wonder if I should start my own terrorist cell, just to get in on the action. But then, I’d have norma the security guard after me, and she’s scary.

Seriously though, I think we’re living in increasingly troubled times.

When you think about it, and from a certain point of view, the freedom to communicate is the most basic of all freedoms. Everything extends from the ability to deliver messages. Think about it – even now, I’m communicating a message to you; I just chose my lunch by communicating a message. My thesis communicates ideas. And so on. The freedom to communicate is, to me, the most fundamental of all freedoms.

As a disabled person, it is only through my lightwriter that I can communicate my full personality. Had I not had Colin, life at uni would have been very isolating, especially in my undergraduate years. Through Colin I can show myself – my true self. Most simply. Imagine trying to explain to someone that you want to dress as a girl if you can’t speak clearly, or at all. What I’m trying to say is that, for people like me, it is only through the ability to communicate that our full personalities can be realised. I can’t help but wonder how many more disabled people are like me and Lyn, or are different in other ways, but don’t have the ability to show it.

I was just looking over my last few blog entries, and I guess they’re pretty poor. I intended my blog to focus on disability and disability-related issues; but, more often than not, I write about the first thing that comes into my head – nights out, the play, Lyn etc. The whole thing thus looks like an online diary more than a weblog. However, my justification for doing this is as follows: in order to increase understanding, we should show people what life is like for us cripples. I write about my interests, pursuits and failings precisely to illustrate the fact that I can be as stupid as anyone else. My life is both mundane and exciting, just as most people’s lives are. People need to see that my interests don’t extend just to the fact I have cerebral palsy. If my blog has been rather dull recently, I apologise. I hope I have a few readers left, at least. When I get time, I intend to write more opinion pieces – I haven’t started any good arguments in ages! But for now, bear with me, and please keep reading my daily ramblings about this and that.

Everyone is everywhere else. Lyn’s in Wales and thus offline; c’s in the west indies probably getting tanned by now; Emma’s in china still, etc. meanwhile I’m still here trying to finish my master’s, looking out at cloudy skies. Oh well, at least I have Esther for company. Plus, tonight I have an invitation to tea with Ricardio we’re having cauliflower cheese cooked by his landlord, mike. I was over at their place last night, when we had spag bol. It was the best meal I’d had in weeks: I don’t think I’ve been eating enough recently, and I’m not getting enough fruit or veg. looking after yourself is harder than it looks.

It seems that Charlie got to my uncles okay, but only after going to the wrong address first. I’m just relieved she got there eventually, pleased I was able to help her and very very grateful to Uncle Aki. I still haven’t paid him back for his and my aunt’s favour on graduation, so now I owe them double.

As for myself, I’m in two minds about my P.A rob after last night. We went out to middlewhich, where a few of my friends were playing a gig in a pub. We found the place okay, although it was extremely crowded and all the seats were taken. Nevertheless, it served good ale and my friends were playing some good, if unusual tunes. However, rob has this odd obsession with karaoke and singing; he’d heard there was some karaoke in another pub a couple of doors down. I kind of wanted to stay put – friends are friends – but rob insisted. So off we went. To be fair, the second place was far less crowded, and there were places to sit, but somehow it seemed less authentic, and they served fewer good beers. I suppose I must learn to assert myself. I also must disavow rob of his misguided ideas about larger being better than real beer.

My friend Charlie flies out to a wedding in the Caribbean today. Tuesday night she told me she has a 12 hour stop over in Paris, during which time she has to transfer from CDG to orly. I suggested my uncle might be able to help, so I contacted him, and – wonderful person that uncle Aki is – he obliged. So Charlie should be staying at his tonight. I know it’s out of my hands, but I’m a bit nervous about it: I just hope everything goes to plan.

I did not get a chance to blog yesterday. It was one of those crazy days where one thing lead to another, then another. Unusually for me, I spent hardly any time at my pc. I met with Alan, went into Crewe, came home, lee appeared etc etc. it was rather fun. I feel guilty for not speaking to Lyn though.

It’s great to see Obama in London though. I caught glimpses of him meeting the queen. It’s quite a monumental occasion in terms of the history of humanity, when you think about it. I just hope that he and the other leaders can get together to sort this economic mess out.

I just got home from Chester. Charlie invited me to go see her school play, and, well, Charlie is Charlie. This time, it was a show called ”Back to the 80s”. Charlie did warn me the plot was poor, but I think I should offer her school my services as a scriptwriter. On the other hand, there were a few good – if cheesy – songs, some great performances, and some great costumes.

I didn’t get to spend too much time with charlotte though – just a chat over a drink after the show. I think she likes me being there though. I did, however, get to know her brother Hugh a little more – he’s a great guy, working for a record label in London. He makes similar music to Lyn, so I really want those two to meet. They both seem well up for a collaboration. How awesome would that be?

The bbc report about the campaign to save the coachmakers arms can be found here; just click on ‘See the latest programme in full’ and scan to about 12 or 13 minutes in. our bit lasts for about 15 seconds, but you can just glimpse my chair at 14.43.

You know, I used to have mixed views on this, but after hearing that podgy arse from the council talk, I’m convinced we’re doing the right thing. People like him don’t give a damn about heritage or history; they only care about how much money they can make. It is a narrow-minded, selfish view, and it really makes me angry.

Today I read roadwork. It was about time; before now I was concentrating too much on my thesis to actually sit down and read it. Plus, I reasoned that it might be better for me not to read it so I might view regeneration purely as a play. But it’s the easter holls, the thesis isn’t going badly, and it’s been too long since I read any fiction. it took me all day to get through the audiobook, but the truth is I found it gripping.

The problem is, Ricardio seems to have missed a very important point out. Dawes actions can be seen largely in the context of his grief for his son – the death of a kid can fuck a guy’s head up. But Ricardio has totally cut the fact that dawes and his wife mary ever had a son out. I know that, for our purposes, the reasons behind Dawes’ actions are unimportant, and we need him to represent a kind of everyman, but I am very concerned with character, and see Charlie’s death as key to understanding Barton G dawes.

Either way, it’s a great little book, and I’m glad I actually sat down and read it. I think I was pissing Ricardio off by not doing so.

I have had a lot of fun today. We now have a venue for our play: an awesome grade 2 listed building called the queen’s theatre, Burslem. The number 20 runs right by it, so after breakfast today I set off towards stoke. I met the cast there, waiting outside for the guy who owns it. I had spurned a lift in favour of the bus so I could take my electric wheelchair, but ironically enough the place has so many steps the chair proved useless. However, it was a fascinating, historic building, even if it did give me the creeps slightly. I was sat up on the balcony this afternoon, thinking of all the productions that must have been staged there over its hundred year history. In a way, it reminded me of the sshining.

After rehearsal, me, Ricardio and liz decided to go for tea. None of the places we asked in knew anything about the chip and signature system, so we got the bus back to alsager and ate in the plough. I only just got home, and will soon go to bed full of enthusiasm for another week.

I have just returned from a very pleasant lunch with Ricardio, jo, and a few other friends. We needed to discuss the play: tomorrow, we’re going to see the venue where we’ll probably be putting it on, and we also needed to discuss where to go after Regeneration is over. It’s strange how my casual interest in Ricardio’s productions has morphed into a possible career path. If this takes off – and I really hope it does – I could make a career in drama. It’s quite closely related to both film and creative writing, my first loves, and, as an art form, affords one a type of creation which is both immediate and keen. Of course, I’ll have to discuss all this with Ric, but the possibility that this could turn into something bigger really excites me.

My website has come under attack again. My brother Luke is currently trying to repair any damage they did. I’m very grateful to him – without Luke’s expertise, this website would have disappeared years ago. In the meantime, bear with us folks.

It hasn’t yet turned eleven, and it’s already been quite an interesting day. Our production of Roadwork, now re-named Regeneration (a much more descriptive title) is going well. The Very important theatre company is primarily focussed on issue-based theatre, which means we have purpose in what we do. Our efforts in the fight to save the coachmakers arms, hanley, apparently got the attention of the press, and so this morning we were filmed by a very nice woman from midlands today.

I never function well before about 9, but at 8 this morning we were all gathered in studio 40. incredibly, Dan, our male lead, was able to deliver one of his monologues with the intensity of a double-bourbon even at that hour. I think the woman was quite surprised, too. She would have got some damn fine shots, judging from where she placed her camera. Thus I think it went really well; we’ll know when it airs next Tuesday evening.

She also took a shot of the whole company, including yours truly, stating our purposes and so on. It reminded me of when I was on the news before, back in 99 or 2000, when my class at school won a wheelchair dancing competition. I didn’t speak this time, but then, insufferable urchin that I was, I had quoted Julius Caesar. My parents have a tape of it somewhere, but that is a video I can never watch again.

Well, if you’re interested, we’ll be on Midlands today, next Tuesday, at half 6.

Not much happened today. Mum and dad popped over with my aunt jill, but conversation was rather dominated by the nasty click my wheelchair developed yesterday. I had my hair cut this morning, but nobody noticed. Work, too, seems to have slowed to a standstill – I’m taking what I call an ‘editorial rest’, allowing me to think things through before proceeding, reading etc. The last one I took, in January, proved very fruitful.

There’s some stand-up comedy on campus this evening; I’ll probably go.

So, other than that, a pretty dull day. Things should perk up again soon: I could be on local TV tomorrow, but I’ll tell you guys all about that if and when it happens.

I have been thinking about nonconformity again, and have decided that most people are dull. The most interesting people, I have decided, are those who break down barriers and ‘think outside the box’. I guess that’s why I find Lyn fascinating: she pays absolutely no notice to social norms, and is at the same time just herself. I think something in me finds transgression very attractive – I love to fuck with peoples heads. I think charlotte does too in a way, which is part of why I like her also. Lyn got me an awesome cat zentai for my birthday; it’s bound to make heads turn.

But, paradoxically, both Lyn and charlotte are just being themselves. They don’t deliberately go out to break down barriers, but just do. In this respect, our society is repressive inasmuch as it doesn’t yet allow certain kinds of people to be themselves. Oh, I still can’t fathom it, but it is bloody fascinating.

I was at home this weekend, where I managed to catch up with the news. Do you know, my parents took us to loch Awe in about 1990; thee loch was on the news this weekend and we recognised the name. more pertinent to my blog, though, is the news that doctors are being allowed to let a baby die, against the wishes of it’s parents. This makes me very angry and very scared. True, the child is/was in a great deal of pain; but from my conviction that all people are of equal worth and potential I draw my belief that life must be preserved. Who are those doctors to play god, to say who can live and who can die? What gave those judges the right to go against the parents wishes? I believe in neither god nor an afterlife, so I think this existence is all we have. Surely, then, it must be preserved. Moreover, I fear this sets a very dangerous precedent – if this kid’s life wasn’t deemed worth saving, would mine have been?

The last 48 hours have been stupid, even by my usually inane standards. Everything, I suppose, can be traced back to the point where I forgot to plug my chair in before going home on Wednesday evening. I usually charge it every night, but I thought it would be okay. Never mind the fact that I’d been to Hanley and back in it on Wednesday; the battery had never died on me.

When I got back here yesterday morning, I plugged it in for a couple of hours then went to Crewe. I wanted to see Alan. Esther had emailed; their family had had a bad week. She told me she got home after 3, so I planned to see Alan in order to cancel today’s meeting then go to see Esther in person. I felt that the best thing to do, under the circumstances. So off I went.

I knew I was being foolish, but given Esther’s home internet connection isn’t working, it was the only way I could tell Esther what Alan had said. The thing is, Esther lives a good two or 3 K from campus. I got there O.K, going slower than usual though. When the time came to go, the Bat’leth wouldn’t go at all. A taxi seemed the obvious solution so we called one.

Esther saw me onto the taxi, and then went home. It seemed the fun hadn’t stopped there, though: when I got back here, I opened my purse to find just five quid. Oh shit. Rob was skint too. We ended up giving the driver an IOU. This morning, then, I got rob to drive m to the building society, then we went to find the driver. This took a while, but everything is now sorted.

Dad will probably be having a fit when he gets to this point, but he needn’t worry. Yes, like most people I can get myself into trouble; but it also shows I have the confidence and know-how to get myself out of it too.

I have had time to calm down now. It’s been a long, eventful day, but this evening I’ve sat in here and had chance to reflect. For one, I’ve had about a hundred birthday messages from all over the place; it reminds me how many good friends I have. I also met Alan this evening, and his encouraging words got me out of my stupor. Such things remind me that things aren’t as bad as they may have appeared before.

My birthday was ok. I went home, got shouted at, ate some cake, went to bed, got up, gott shouted at some more, then came back here. Woopdidoo..

sorry, I’m not very happy now. I’ll try to make a proper post soomn.

I am officially getting old and I don’t like it. I was having coffee with lee m this morning and we got on to the sibject of school, as per usual. Turns out that a girl from a few years below us has had a baby, aged 21. I try not to be judgemental. But I can’t help despairing slightly. I mean, how is she going to look after it? What was she, and other girls like her, thinking? I can’t help thinking it was too early for her.

It is election time here on campus. Although I am still generally uninterested, I still think that the student population is unrepresentative of the general population. More disabled people are going to uni than ever before, but ‘we’ are still underrepresented in higher education. Uni, I fear, is still an uninclusive area, geared towards more traditional methods of learning. You go to lectures, then you go to the library to read around the subject, then you write an essay. I think I’m reasonably good at this, but to some it is ultimately exclusive. Some people with disabilities just don’t work like this. that’s not to say they need to be ‘spoon fed’ information, but they take in and express knowledge and learning in other ways. I just think that the academic system should adapt to reflect this more.

I look forward to the day that the first essay is submitted in Bliss or Makaton.

I just waved goodbye to Lyn on her bus home. It’s strange – she’s the most enigmatic person I’ve ever met: strong, yet fragile; certain yet somehow scared. I whish I could just take her in my arms and tell her everything will be ok. I look into her eyes and see a strange vulnerability and confusion; yet also I see love. She’s quite a bit older than I am; perhaps more jaded and world weary; and yet there’s also this optimism in the future – and in me. I invited her up after last Friday’s drama: I now see dumping Lyn would be like ripping my soul out. Age difference or none, and all other concerns asunder, I love Lyn levett.

Lyn has been here since yesterday afternoon, bringing with her my birthday presents. I already have quite a haul – a book of ‘501 Must see movies’ from Esther; a book, DVD and cd from Charlie and of course my new wheelchair. It isn’t even my birthday till Wednesday, but I’m already very happy.

Today, after breakfast, I’ll probably take Lyn on a short walk, then lunch, then I have rehearsal to go to. Tomorrow it’s back to writing, but even that’s going well, so apart from my tendency to drink too much things are all good.