It has been quite a cool week really. Over the last few days I have been able to see the three most amazing people in my life. On Sunday I saw Lyn, who is probably the most astounding person I’ve ever met. The truth is, Lyn inspires me: she grabs life, living it on her own terms. I think of her more and more these days – the way she looks at me with her deep wise eyes; the cute little noises she makes. I imagine myself catching whiffs of her smell every now and again. I feel very privaledged to have such a strong, unique, incredible person as my girlfriend.

I also feel privaledged to have Charlie as my best friend. It was great to catch up with her. Yesterday, I caught a glimpse of her job, and I got the distinct impression that teaching wasn’t for me. School life seems far too noisy and violent for my liking. Apparently the day before one kid had been hospitalised after a ‘pile-on’. Charlie seems ideally suited for it, on the other hand. In fact she says she loves it. At the mo she only teaches year seven students – who, frankly, seem crazy enough but she’ll soon be let loose on older kids. I whish her luck.

I saw Esther earlier today. I popped over to her house about lunch time. Although I don’t mention her much here, I am very fond of her and her family. I’ve known her the longest, and can confide in her. She’s a very quiet person, perhaps not as exhuberant as Charlie or Lyn, but in her own way she too amazes me.

I just got in from my first proper trip in the bat’leth, by which I mean a trip of considerable length. I took her to Chester yesterday, to see charlotte. C had invited me to a school performance based around fair trade. Truth be told, I remain to be convinced about fair trade: it smells iffy to me, like a capitalist ploy disguised as this great ethical thing, but then I’m a cynic. Nevertheless, it was good to see Charlie and the joneses again. I feel I’m fast becoming good friends with Poppy, C’s little sister, too.

Last night I had one of those good long all-evening conversations with Lyn. I think we really opened up to one another. I had been reading a book on meterosexuality and sports culture yesterday afternoon, which sent thoughts whizzing around my head like a kitten in a washing machine. I really find jock culture repugnant – it’s so misogynistic and homophobic, not to mention so blatantly repressed. To me, people like me and Lyn reject precisely that repugnant nonsense, for in opening our feminine sides up rather than repressing them, we kind of learn the value of both genders. It has to be more adult and open minded than the homophobic, reactionary culture of many of our male contemporaries.

It has been a great afternoon. As planned I met Lyn in Crewe; I think that, for Lyn, today was an exercise in independence. She told me that she used too make such solo trips quite regularly, but recently has been lacking the courage. It was therefore great to see her up here, and I think the exercise was a great success. She was already talking about doing it again next Saturday, but I might be going home for the weekend, so it depends.

We didn’t get up to too much. We were alone, and without P.As there’s not much we could do. We managed to cause a bit of mayhem, but not as much as I’d have liked. Having said that, an ambulance was involved at one point: coming out of a pub, Lyn almost fell out of her chair; her arse slipped off the seat. I called ‘help’ to a couple of men passing by, who unfortunately turned out to be idiots. Instead of simply pulling Lyn back up onto her chair, they decided to call an ambulance. I tried to explain, to no avail. Then another guy came who understood the problem. once Lyn was back on her chair, we scarpered to where we were due to meet Lyn’s taxi.

5 minutes later, guess what: up rolls an ambulance. I type faster than Lyn, so I explained what had happened, and that we were both fine. The ambulance man understood, and I apologised for wasting his time. He needed to hear Lyn tell him that she was o.k.

So, all in all, great fun. Going out, alone, with Lyn may have it’s drawbacks, but it was good to be ‘just us two’ so to speak, jut like a regular couple.

It seems the next three days will be busy. First, Lyn is coming up tomorrow, just for the afternoon. I’m going to show her Crewe. Thing is, she’ll be alone – without a PA – so I’m slightly concerned. What if something happens? I can barely look after myself, let alone a woman. Well, if the worst comes to the worst, Esther doesn’t live too far away.

On Monday, dad’s coming, bringing housing forms to fill in. this will probably be very dull, but hopefully we’ll do it in the wes over a few coffees. Coffee makes form-filling easier.

Tuesday should be more fun. A meeting with Alan, which I’m optimistic about, then I’m off to Chester for an evening with the joneses. Charlie is putting on what she describes as a ‘year 7 visual and performing arts evening’, and has invited me. Sounds great fun. My one concern is getting my new chair, which dad brought back to me on Monday, through their front door, as it’s heavier than the other one. I think I’ll ask if I can put it in their garage instead.

All in all, a busy few days. Well, at least I’m not bored.

I think I may have done something to my ears last night, but it was awesome. Rob and I headed into Crewe to find some fun – karaokie perhaps. We got the bus and headed for the Limelight club. What we found there ruled: it was an aerosmith tribute band! I mean, how uncanny is that? Of course, we went in.

Aerosmith are one of my favourite groups of all time, and this tribute band was a reasonably good one. the lead singer had Steve Tyler’s rather strange body movements down to a tee. The sound, too, was amazing: we were sat close to a stage, so it was quite ear-splitting at times. We had to leave early, though, in order to catch the bus, but I managed to catch most of my favourite songs. Walk This Way came on as we were leaving. Alas, I didn’t get to hear I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing, which would probably come on at the close.

What an awesome night though. I thought it’d just be a few pints listening to locals murder music, but I stumbled onto something truly awesome! There’s a guns and roses tribute band there tonight; guess who’s going,

Rob is in the kitchen microwaving dinner. We just got home from a joint shopping trip (although no joints were procured). Like a married couple, we needed to get food in for over the weekend; the fridge is now well stocked with ready-meals, chocolate and beer. Yesterday, however, I had a very different problem: rob was missing. He’s usually waiting for me when I get home at 5, but yesterday, he wasn’t. I waited, and waited. Usually on such occasions I go get myself a pizza, but I didn’t really fancy it.

I ventured out either way, at about 7. however, I was surprised to see the canteen still open, so I swang around. There I bumped into about 150 school kids and their teachers. Apparently they were on a taster day, and had just finished their dinner.

So guess who got the left overs? For free!

About five minutes ago I was feeling rather sorry for myself. Alan is looking at my thesis as I type so I have a feeling of impending doom. This is made greater by the fact that the future is so unclear. I’m really not sure what to do next. However, I’d forgotten one very important fact: today is the eighth of July. The first ashes test starts in 40 minutes. I thought it started tomorrow for some reason. Today we get the chance to make amends for that 5 nil farce down under two years ago. Who cares about the future when the ashes are on? [spastic squeal of excitement]

I have just been thinking about some of what I have written on here over the years, in relation to a recent Panorama programme. I deeply regret what I once thought, especially in relation to DAN. Peaceful protest is, of course, a central part of democracy; people have a right to make their views heard. I once feared that, were disabled people to do that, we’d just come across as balshy cripples and alienate people. why did nobody slap me when I wrote that? I once wrote that ‘we shouldn’t draw attention to our disabilities for specifically political motives: to do so would be crass exhibitionism which will only divide us further from society and increase prejudice.’ In other words, we shouldn’t complain for fear of making too much of a fuss. If other people had used that logic, Gandhi would just have accepted British rule, the US would still be segregated and nobody would know the name Nelson Mandela. Whenever injustice occurs, we need to draw attention to it; and if we come across as balshy cripples, then I say good. Far better to come across as balshy than a walkover, because at least then people realise you exist as a human being.

The truth is, I guess I’m more comfortable than ever before after this weekend. I used to feel such a contradiction: I’m supposed to be a man, a guy, but if that was true how could I go out with someone like Lyn, and how could I go around in dresses and stuff? Well, it’s time I let go of those old ideas of masculinity. If no true man would do what I did this weekend, then I’m not a true man; and you know what? I don’t care. I like being me; and I love going out with Lyn. And if that doesn’t conform to the social norms, then the social norms can fuck off. I am who I am, and proud of it.

It is odd how things that once seemed out of bounds for me now seem routine. Like girlfriends and solo rail travel. This occurred to me yesterday as Lyn and I walked through Greenwich park, up to the observatory overlooking the Thames. never before had London looked quite so beautiful.

Its been a great weekend. I had my first proper taste of make-up, which ruled, and then Lyn had her first taste of margarita! I frightened the living daylights out of two girls in a car: we were walking along and they pulled up, and I heard they were playing the car song by the cat empire, singing along. There was no time to type, so I raised my hands and tried to say ‘cat empire rule’. They didn’t understand, but looked petrified. Mind you, I was in a dress, so they may have been confused. Whahahaha! What fun!

Apart from meeting Ricardio at Euston, the other details are either private or boring. I have, however, mastered the trains, so now I want to go everywhere. Steve, can you still put me up in edinborough?

I neglected to say something very important yesterday which Katie pulled me up on just before bedtime. Charlie didn’t go to Paris as my PA but as my friend: that is she expected nothing in return. This is an important distinction to make. Disabled people need and thus in any civilised society have a right to help. This changes the relationship between that of helped / helper to that of employee / employer. While any good employer will appreciate what his or her employees do, they are paid to do it. The difference comes when nothing is asked for in return, and when people act out of friendship and kindness. I just think we should recognise that for the remarkable thing it is.

I realised yesterday that it has been almost a year since Charlie and I went to Paris. In many ways that was a remarkable trip: I can be, lets say, a bit of a handful in terms of needing to be dressed, fed, and pushed etc. Yet charlotte being charlotte, she just took it in her stride. It’s funny; sometimes I get the impression from the disabled community that we aren’t supposed to feel grateful, but I frankly regard what miss Jones did that week as one of the greatest kindnesses ever bestowed upon me. Then again, c didn’t do it out of a sense of charity: we obviously enjoy each other’s company, and two friend’s taking a trip together isn’t a rare occurrence. It’s kind of odd: it’s almost as if I don’t know what to think, or say. Should one feel grateful?

This afternoon I watched Casino Royale for the umpteenth time. I just fancied a bit of 007. o.k, he’s a misogynist pig, and lord knows what he’d think of me ad my girlfriend, but there’s something in Flemings character which appeals. That is the nature of cinephilia: it is a love which goes beyond comprehension and articulation, yet paradoxically forces one to reflect. I cannot explain why I love bond, but I feel the need to explain my love to legitimise it. So in effect in the process of the explanation I must explain that I cannot explain. See why I’ve taken 2 years ant 31500 words to write this thesis.

Physics is easy!

Our van has its MOT today, so dad dropped me off here at uni nice and early. It’s good, because it gives me a chance to jot a few things down before the day starts – I don’t like not having blogged, if that’s grammatically correct.

Now, something happened this weekend online which has been playing on my mind. A week or so ago, a guy from school by the name of Simon M* added me on facebook. This guy was two or three years above me, and I knew him mostly by reputation. At first, I thought it was cool; even though Simon and I had never got on at Hebden, a lot of time has passed since those days, and I assumed we would both have grown.

However, I soon noticed something was not right. On his page, this guy spoke of being proud of being British, and keeping the land ‘ours’ (whoever ‘we’ are supposed to be). On its own I could let that slip – perhaps he’s just patriotic. Yet yesterday I noticed this guy had signed up for being a fan of Adolf Hitler.

I sent him a message saying that I found that neither witty nor intelligent. I like jokes; my sense of humour can even be fairly dark at times. But I find nothing funny about the cold-blooded murder of six million innocent people. moreover, I find nothing worth glorifying about fascism. The way in which this guy then deleted me from his friend list would seem to imply that he didn’t just do it for laughs though: something tells me that Simon M actually believes this crap. Truth be told, from what I remember of him, I wouldn’t put it past him.

What gets to me is the sstupidity of it. A few days ago I saw a picture of a bunch of scallies giving the nazi salute. I truly doubt that these people have any idea of the true implications of their politics. They seem to have a few outdated ideas concerning masculinity and nationalism lodged in their peanut-brains, but seem unable to perceive the ramifications and contradictions inherent in them. They listen to people like Nick Griffin talk about protecting the rights of the British people over immigrants, but haven’t the intelligence to realise that what he says has no basis in reality. For example, I saw griffin on T.V a few weeks ago saying that, if every culture mixed they would all loose their distinctiveness. WRONG. Rather than all turning grey and muddy, they remain distinct but blend at the edges. Chicken tikka masala anyone?

Thus I am becoming very concerned about how many people – mostly uneducated white males with short hair – have latched on to these baseless ideas and refuse to listen to any opposing argument. To them, of course, we’re the wrong ones or the sell-outs or the traitors. We haven’t realised what they have. How do you talk sense into people who refuse to listen?

*A different person to anyone mentioned on here befdore.

I suppose one of the worst things about forgetting to go to 1voice on Saturday was that I missed out on he social aspect of things. The truth is I like being in the company of other crips; there aren’t many around alsager. I have a great many friends, and they accept me for who I am. Yet in the company of able-bodied people, I’m always the odd one out – the one who needs help, or the one who slows down the conversation. While neither I nor any of my friends have a problem with this (I’m not complaining, just stating facts) it’s nice sometimes to be in company where you aren’t the odd one out. I think that’s partly why Lyn is an ideal partner for me. At Onevoice I’m not the only crip in the village. In fact I’m in the majority for a change, which is a rather nice feeling. I like conversations with people in similar positions to mine. This is complicated, and relates back to the old ‘us and them’ debate; it could also, I suppose, be distorted into an argument against inclusion, so we must be careful. But the bottom line is, I get a sense of belonging at Onevoice.

Something happened earlier and I’m feeling rather guilty about it. Around two this afternoon, I was sat at the bus stop outside Crewe campus. I was quite deep in thought – about Lyn, my thesis, 1voice, lunch – and generally minding my own business. Suddenly, this old woman comes up to me. She took me by surprise enough to make me jump. She had this dog in her arms which she wanted me to pat. It was a small thing; the type which most call cute and dad calls rat-dogs. Now, I have no interest in dogs, and so the way in which this woman had assumed I wanted to pat the damn thing just because I was sitting in a wheelchair struck me as highly patronising, this, together with the shock, elicited a string of ”fuck offs” from me.

”I just thought you might like to pat the doggy.” She said.

The use of the word ”doggy” rather than ”dog” pissed me off even more: ”Fuck off fuck off fuck off” I said. She did. I instantly felt guilty. She was just an old woman with a dog. I suppose I should have patted it like a good little cripple. On the other hand, would she have asked any other guy at a bus stop to pat her mut? Why do people just assume I like to stroke little animals? If you ask me, if we are going to show people that we are individuals rather than things to be pitied, such language is sometimes necessary.

I feel stupid and angry at myself. As you can probably tell from the comments to my previous entry, 1voice was Saturday. I’m crap at dates so I forgot. I guess I’ve become so wrapped up in this academic world that I let other things – things that matter – slip. Now I’ve let my 1voice friends down, wasting their money. I have emailed Tamsin and the two Katies offering my resignation (if that’s the right word). So much for being a role-model; after all, who would want to model themselves on someone who forgets something so important?

It seems a lot is happening here at once. I’m in the process of finishing my thesis (if Alan wants footnotes, I’ll give him footnotes*); Lyn is trying to find us a home in Chester, although I’m not being very helpful with that; I’m trying to find out how long I can stay at uni etc. I’m in two minds about this – part of me wants to go home for a rest and to forget about my thesis, but I tend to get bored pretty quickly. What I’d prefer to do is finish my thesis and go stay with Lyn in London until chester is sorted. But that would cause all kinds of problems with packing, transport, getting all my kit down there, etc. I’m not sure what to do, or how to go about this sensibly. Plus, I have Onevoice sometime this summer. What a mess.

* 20 in the first seven pages.

Smeg I am knackered. I just got in from Chester after a fairly long day. As planned, I met Lyn at Chester railway station, and together we went to the council housing offices. There we filled in a joint application for a home. So that’s it; what last week was a rather hazy idea in my head is becoming concrete. I know it’s not that simple, and this will take ages to come to fruition, but I feel more prepared than eveer to take up real independence.

Holy pigcrap she’s serious. The cross-eyed one and I are going to meet in Chester tomorrow in order to go see the council about finding a home. This has me in two minds: while I greatly admire Lyn’s enthusiasm, I’m not used to acting this quickly on anything, particularly without consulting dad and mum. Lyn seems to know what she’s doing, even if I don’t. I just thought we were going to just ask the council a few questions, but apparently I need to take my NI number. Oh my. Don’t get me wrong, I really wanna live with Lyn, but, you know.

Seems Lyn Levett is finally dragging me into adulthood.

Not much happened today, but I’d like it made clear that electric wheelchairs cannot go faster than bikes or those silly two-stroke scooters. So, if you own either of these things, and you see me, do not try to race me. I know you’ll win, and I don’t care. I will, however, think you are an idiot and ignore you, for you are a stupid little chav with an IQ of a rodent. Please stop pestering me – I have no interest in racing you. This is all. Good night.

It gets harder each time Lyn leaves. Every time I see her onto the bus or train, I feel a sudden emptiness. It’s as if everything suddenly stops and is still after being in action. We had a great weekend together – last night’s curry was delicious, but the live music I’d been told was on wasn’t, ‘though we had fun anyway. It’s amazing how quickly I get used to having Lyn around: so much so that when she goes, I really feel her absence. Oh well; tonight I’ll have a quiet night in, then early to bed. I’m shattered!

My girlfriend Lyn is up for the weekend. we’ve been busy – last night we went clubbing in Crewe; today I took Lyn to her first cricket match, a local game in alsager. Tonight, despite being rather tired and sunburned, we are going for a curry, then to a jamming session at a pub. Great fun!

I just watched inside I’m Dancing. It’s been quite a week, in terms of my meeting with Alan and the episode with the school kids. The first thing to be said about Inside is that the acting is pisspoor; it actually caused great controversy in certain areas through it’s use of non-disabled actors to play cripples. I also feel that it oversimplifies certain things in parts, and makes other things too dramatic. For instance, they make the ILF guys appear like a parole board, although that may have been the point. Homes are rather like prisons. Ultimately, however, I found the film uplifting, and that it’s portrayal of disability both positive and realistic.

The ending kind of got to me though. I have lost a few good friends to muscular dystrophy; the first when I was ten or so, another age 18. it is the only disability I want cured, although they wouldn’t have been the boys I knew had they not had MD. It’s good to see such dramas being played out in film: the cinema is the one place where you are allowed, and even encouraged, to stare. If kids stared at films like this, perhaps they wouldn’t stare at me.

Today was not as exciting as yesterday – the school kids behaved themselves as I rolled past. It really got to me, though, and I’ve been brooding over what happened yesterday. It’s unacceptable to laugh at black people or people from the Indian subcontinent; why is it acceptable, albeit nominally, to laugh at disabled people? as you can see in the comments, what I wrote yesterday has earned me quite some credibility. Kate teased me over MSN this evening that my blog had been hacked, and that whoever hacked it writes better entries than I do. I see her point: I should have made that entry a long, long time ago.

I am proud, I guess. I am proud of my work here at MMU, and proud of my achievements. I am proud, I guess, of who I am and of what I have become. I’m proud of my girlfriend, Lyn; of the things she’s been through and the battles she’s won. I’m proud to know people like Katie Caryer, blazing the way towards inclusion, and Simon stevens, who I am only beginning to understand. I am proud to have known my friends from school who are no longer with us – the five of them. In short, I am proud, though I did nothing for it, of being a crip.

This struck me as I was going down church road this afternoon. There were kids around, on their lunch break, from the nearby high school. I passed a group, and they sniggered. I turned, and they fled. I decided I’d had enough – I am proud of what I have achieved enough to refuse to be a laughing stock. Why should we disabled people, after all the crap we put up with, have to bear being the butt of some snot-nosed kid’s joke? I went round to the reception of their school, and told the receptionist. The headmaster was called, and he apologised. There was a message waiting in my inbox to say that the matter had been dealt with. Good.

We live in a culture which values (or should value) diversity. Intolerance, of any kind, must end. Soon I will finish a 30,000 word research thesis, and I refuse to be seen as inferior to any child.

music

I met with Alan this afternoon, and guess what: he didn’t shout at me this tme! In fact he seemed very pleased with what I sent to him on Friday. I think I’m finally glimpsing the light at the end of the tunnel, and it looked good. Alan gave me a few ideas of what to include. Interestingly, he suggested he suggested I should put in a bit more stuff about my subjectivity as related to my disability: most film theory positions the viewer as a still, silent one, but viewers with cp are rarely still and silent, try though they might. This opens up yet more avenues to explore.

I think he wants me to do a PhD. Oh boy.

Most of today has been spent here at my desk. As much as I dislike staying in my room for too long, it’s not been bad. Got a bit of work done; watched some TV, but mostly I’ve been talking to Lyn. We’re thinking of moving to Chester now, which makes good sense. London, while exciting, may be too crowded. Chester, on the other hand, seems much better. Not far from friends, and should anything break, my parents can be there within a couple of hours. I like this idea. Plus, Chester is full of pubs, coffee shops and book stores!

The news of the election is predictably depressing. Fed up with the current government, they are falling for a smooth talking leader of an opposition; an opposition no less culpable of the current scandal than the ruling party. When this fact was put to CaMoron he tried to pretend that the difference between the Tories and Labour was that the Tories are more united. Ha! The Tory party is only united because they have this great leader who can appeal to the public. Mark my words: as soon as the Tory party get in – and I have no doubt this country is fool enough to do that – CaMoron will me gone and we’ll have a thatcherite dick in power. Dave, they’re just using you.

I went into hanley last night rather than Wednesday, as, according to their website, the Pink bar shuts Wednesday. It was great fun – my first real time dressed en femme off campus. Well, I wasn’t really dressed, as I didn’t have any make-up, and I left my wig at home for fear it would keep sliding off, but I felt I looked cute and pleasingly ambiguous. I wore a padded bra to give me he right shaped chest. Every time I caught my reflection in a mirror or window, I felt a buzz, a thrill that I cannot explain.

Mind you, when we got to the Pink place, it looked dead, too quiet. So we went round to the Spareroom, which had rock music playing. We stayed there for the evening – it’s a rock/Goth place, and I kind of like Goth fashion. Short skirts, torn tights, fingerless gloves etc. we caught the last bus home and I got the last bus home dying for a pee but very very happy.

I woke up with an idea today. Perhaps some things should remain mysteries. If we try to look too hard into something, we destroy the fascination. Perhaps the point about my fascination with femininity is that it is a mystery to me. Girls are, lets face it, quite unfathomable; I’ve tried to work them out, to see what it feels like, but if I go too far down that road, the mystery vanishes. I’m not saying I’m going to stop my cross-dressing or experimentation, but I guess I should recognise that I am a guy, and I’m happy as a guy, and as a result of that womanhood will always be unfathomable. That is not to say I am not fascinated by those who do make that leap and cross that threshold and step fully into that other world.

As a crip, the same applies to talking clearly and the riding of bicycles.

Or cinephilia.

I have plans for tonight – big plans. Inspired, in part, by what I found on Monday, I plan to dress up and go out in Hanley. Ideally, I’d want to go all out – make-up, wig etc – but I’m not sure I can tonight. Not with Rob, anyway. Ultimately, I’d like to be treated as a girl, mostly out of curiosity, but I don’t think I can be that convincing. I know from Lyn that it is possible, but unlike her my ‘normal state’ is male, and I’m happy as a guy, so I have no intention to take the next step, as she has. Having said that, I’d like to see just how far I can take this little fascination of mine.

Yesterday afternoon I was board, so I decided to tap my girlfriends name into google, and I can say that what I found was revolutionary. It turns out that, a few years ago, Lyn worked with Mike Pearson on a couple of projects at the uni of aberystwith, Wales. Professor Pearson is an theatre practitioner; I looked him up. I found his 2001 article, devices and desires, co-written with Lyn, and it blew me away. It articulates something I’ve been wondering about for years – the question of whether I, as a disabled man, am a subject or an object in relation to others. Moreover, it places this question in the wider context of cultural and theatre studies. The article struck me as ground-braking, as well as setting me in awe of Lyn. I think I’ve fallen in love with her all over again – her strength, her vibrancy, what she represents. I cannot do justice to the article here; nor can I yet fully explain why it fascinates me, but it was like finding my own personal G.U.T right under my nose.while i’m not saying that her decision to become lyn was artistically or politically motivated, it has both artistic and political ramifications: it says that all barriers can be crossed; that masculinity and femininity can be re-read; that disabled people are not just people with disabilities. As professor pearson wrote, people like Lyn force us to reevaluate our beliefs, and make us question our very subjectivity.

My big brother mark was over this weekend. he and Kat came over from Paris with my parents last Thursday, who were in France giving dads new car a proper test drive. It had been ages since I’d last seen them, and truth be told I didn’t see too much of them this time, as they had a wedding to go to on Saturday afternoon. Luke was also supposed to be home, but he had work to do, which meant he stayed in London.

As for myself, I just pottered around the house, talking to Lyn and making occasional demands for beer. It was ideal weather for a barbecue but mum, being mum, had other plans. I also voted, by post. Who I voted for is my business, but it was neither labour nor the conservatives. Personally, I’m fed up with politics in general and like many people think we need a general election, or – even better – a revolution! I have very little confidence in any member of parliament.

Other than that, and the fact I watched some tennis (go Murry!) that’s about it. It was quite a good weekend. I’m still not sure who won Britain’s got talent, but I’m hoping it was Diversity – the street dance guys – for they were awesome. My eyebrow was raised at the Scottish singer, though – does anyone else suspect she has mild Down’s /Syndrome, as my dad posited.

I finally have unambiguous proof that cleaning stuff is a bad idea. Yesterday while I was out, Esther decided to clean my Expanded Keyboard. To be fair, it was filthy. However, when I got back the keyboard wasn’t working, Esther looked very sheepish and guilty. I knew it probably just needed to ‘dry out’ or the cable had come loose, so I left it for the evening.

I had dinner with Tally last night, I think she needed my company. She hasn’t taken her friends death very well and there are other complications which I better not go into. However, I invited Ricardio along to hep with eating and the three of us had a surprisingly interesting conversation about the existence of aliens. Me and Tally were of the opinion that they existed, but Ricardio * was arguing that we would have no way to detect them and therefore to all intents and purposes didn’t exist. I guess it goes back to the question of whether a tree falling in a wood makes a sound. Most interesting conversation I’ve had in ages.

Esther arrived this morning still looking sheepish, but then I got her to plug the keyboard back in and it worked. She’s in for a day of light-hearted teasing, but is more-or-less banned from cleaning anything.

* Ricardio has been reading physics books, which if you ask me is a dangerous prospect.

Another busy day: about a thousand words added to my thesis – mostly re-worked, edited old stuff – then off to Crewe to get more cash and more straws. This evening, I popped over to Hanna / Talli’s to see how she was doing. Immediately, she complemented me on my timing and proposed we go to the pub. We spent over an hour talking about all kinds of things. I think she needed to get out of the house, as well as someone new to talk to. I was glad to be of service, and got a kiss as payment. What else are friends for?

I went with my friends Ricardio and mike to a steam rally today. To be honest I wasn’t as impressed as I thought I would be. It all seemed rather sad and slightly annoying. The commentator on the tannoy kept referring to something called the ‘tractor movement’, which somehow really irritated me. It’s not as if tractor enthusiasts are a repressed minority fighting for equal rights. However, he lost all credibility with me when he admitted he was at a steam rally during the moon landings. I mean, who the smeg would choose looking at antiquated bits of kit over watching possibly the greatest event in human history? Mind you, the whole thing was made most entertaining by Ricardio’s jibes, who seemed just as cynical as I was.

Sorry I didn’t post a blog entry yesterday – busy day (not that I think anyone’s particularly bothered whether I blog). Friday night was cool: it was emotional, but fairly peaceful. I decided to go all out and stayed from 7 till 2. So there goes brandies bar. Oh well.

My old friend Hanna came. She still has ties with the hockey team, and it was good to see her there, although she was the only one of our old group of friends who came. She had actually been wanting to find me – she recently lost a friend, and she knew I had lost friends too, so she was hoping I’d be able to advise her or something. I just told her to try to avoid being alone, and I gave her lots of hugs. It’s all you can do, really. We were supposed to eat together last night, but she didn’t show up. I hope she’s ok.

I am crap at remembering dates. IT was Lyn’s birthday yesterday and Dad’s the day before, and I totally forgot both of them. I think I’m in the doghouse on both counts. Mind you, yesterday was a busy day, I got quite a lot of work done and then went out in the evening.

Tonight though will be a big night, it’s the last Brandies disco ever. I’m very sad about it. Brandies has always been a bit of a dive, but I’ve had many good nights there, all those Wednesday’s over five years. I remember when in my first year, I plucked up the courage to go out on my own to the bar. I thought I needed a PA, in many ways I grew up that night, and then thee where the nights when I dressed up, freezing my arse off in leotards and God knows what else. Most of all, it’s a place I associate with my friends, sitting by the windows to the left of the stage in one large group. I remember open mike night and Steve singing ‘Sweet Home Alsager’. I remember falling off my chair and having to be taken home early. So many memories.

There’s a feeling that something’s going to happen tonight. It’s a feeling of discontent. I don’t know what’s afoot, but I think it’s going to be big.