There are lots of smells in the house today, and for once they don’t all come from me. My parents have put new air fresheners throughout the place, and were roasting about half a pig earlier. As I said before, much of my family was here this weekend: my brothers have already left, and my uncle, aunt and cousins go tomorrow morning. For the most part, the weekend was spent sitting and talking, eating, or playing gonga. This is a card game; I can’t handle cards, so I just watch and sip beer. It is noteworthy, probably, that I increasingly choose to use my lightwriter to talk to guests. This is not because my speech has got worse, but I prefer to use ‘Colin’ (as my uni mates christened my voca). It feels as if I can be more fluent and precise, without having to have a third party to translate. I increasingly see my lightwriter as part of my identity; I’m proud of it.

Anyway, bedtime is near. It’s been a cool weekend, and I hope to see all my extended family again soon.

My family are here this weekend. Luke, mark and Kat, Cyril (who has stayed since Thursday) Alexander and his parents, uncle rich and aunt toula. Thus, all bar one of my maternal cousins and siblings are here,, and Chris’ll get here tonight! The house is fairly full, and we have much to celebrate. Indeed, taking pride of place on the sideboard in the conservatory is a photo of me in my cap and gown. On top of this there’s Cyril’s degree and mark’s doctorate to drink to! It really is quite cool.

Now here’s an idea…right, I’m off to teach my cousins and brothers about Cat empire!

Yesterday was probably one of the best of my life. What can I say about it? Yes, I can write here about what a long road its been, how my parents were once told that I’d never be able to do GCSEs, etc etc. I don’t feel like writing that today though. I just want to record what a brilliant day (and night) it was. Question is, where to begin?

Luke, I think, was right. At mark’s ceremony, we were discussing the correct music to be played. He suggested the imperial march from star wars. I agree – that certainly is a cool theme. My friends, however, suggested the theme from Harry potter, which would also go.

They were, of course, all there. It was great to see them. I hugged most of them as soon as I saw them, especially Charlie and Emma. Mind you, most of my friends hugged me first. There wasn’t time to talk to them all sadly, but it was still good to see them. I cant help thinking we will now drift apart…well, we’ll see. The photos on my wall tell me otherwise though. Anyway, there’s always old boys to look forward to.

Anyway, it was a typical graduation: we got to Bridgewater all, picked up my robe, had a bite to eat, and then went to have my photo taken. Problem is, I’m no good at photos – my head kept wobbling, and my hat kept falling off. Fortunately, the photographer was very patient, and we eventually got a pretty good photo. After that, however, we decided not to bother with the hat.

I think it was then we went to meet Esther and Cyril just outside the hall. Cyril looked very dapper, but I must say Esther looked quite stunning – although I may not have made this clear to her yesterday, of all the people I saw there, she, for me, was the most important. If she had missed it, it would not have felt right. She has been my constant companion through this degree, and it made me very happy to see her there.

It was my father, however, who pushed me onto the stage. I was in my manual chair,, as Cyril was going to be driving me home and my electric does not fit into his car. I was about two thirds of the way along the list of names. As usual, friends cheered each time a name was announced, which was great fun, but, for some reason, when my name was called, there was a louder roar then usual. The dean also spoke to me longer. Don’t know why…

After the ceremony came the drinks reception. As planned, my parents went home at that point, so me, Cyril and Esther went to the reception. This was held in Manchester town hall, which is quite an awesome building. There was much taking of photos here. It was quite emotional, as you can imagine.

It was after this that my aunts plan came into it’s own. We hooked up with the joneses, and went to the meal (my cousin’s car being used to good effect). We dropped Esther off at the station,, and me, Cyril and Mr. and Mrs j drove to the restaurant. Emma couldn’t make it to this, in the end, but we would meet up with her later. The meal itself was delicious. As I’ve said before, the Jones family are cool people, and make excellent company for dinner. We ate in a Lebanese place, and the food was delicious.

Then the fun started. Bars and clubs. Mind you, we had something of a fiasco getting there. Charlie and holly were driving with me and Cyril; en route to the club we drove to their new place in Manchester to drop something off, then to Cyril’s as I needed a fresh shirt owing to coffee stains. This took longer than anticipated. On top of that, when we were finally heading into town, we ran out of petrol and come to a shuddering halt. Fortunately, although I’m not sure why, Cyril keeps some spare petrol at his place. He ran back, got it, and refilled the car. The delay, although unavoidable, was irritating, for we were sobering up. Plus, I felt kind of guilty because holly and Charlie go back to Ibiza today, and this delay was eating into their socialising time. I’m sorry, guys. Mind you, ii hasten to add that this should in no way reflect badly on Cyril. He was quite excellent last night.

When eventually did get out, it was great fun. We went to a bar, where we met up with Emma, Scott and co, then to the print works. God knows how much I drank in all, but it was a good amount. I guess I should have had some red bull, for by 2.30 I was flagging. I felt guilty about this, for I had said I wanted to stay till Charlie went home, as I’m not going to see her for some time, but I was getting very floppy. It was definitely time to go. I’m worried too that I forgot to say goodbye to people I should have, but I’m probably being silly. Besides, I hate goodbyes.

So, that’s it. My undergraduate life has ended. It has been wonderful – without a doubt, the best thing I ever did. Yesterday, break downs aside, was a great day at the end of a great three years.

Tomorrow will be huge! It’s probably the biggest day of my life: graduation. You know, there was a time when I thought I’d never thought it would occur. Ha! What tripe. Now, not only will it occur, but it will occur under the best possible circumstances: I’m graduating with a first, and the people around me will be my best friends. How exciting is that? The past three years have been thee best of my life, filled with parties, trips, balloons, and fun; on top of that sits the glistening cherry of my result. How can I fail to be excited? Mind you, part of me worries that me and my friends will fall out of touch; this concern is irrational – yes, we’ll see less of each other, but I for one regard friendship as something life long. The guys are as welcome at my kitchen table as they were at the tables of the Wesley Centre.

I’m currently looking at the photographs on my wall. Most are of me, or of me and Charlie. She gave me some framed photographs for my birthday – two small ones to sit on a desk and one to hang. The latter I had dad nail to my wall, and one sits on my sub woofer, presently thumping out Beanie by Cat Empire. You know, I used to look at these photographs with regret – those times are gone, never to come again; yet, a few days ago, I remembered a line from Barthes: ‘the camera cannot say what is, but only and for certain what has been’. The past thus remains unchanging, and no matter what happens now, I will forever recall these past three years as the happiest of my life. I no longer feel regret when I look into these pictures, but great joy at the happy times they make me remember, combined with a wonder for what my friends are doing at present. They will serve to remind me to contact them from time to time.. Even in the highly unlikely event that I may never see my university friends again, even if they somehow totally forget about me, the photographs on my wall, in telling me what has been also tell me what is yet possible.

Of course, this is not to say I’m some kind of fatalist, that I now think that the good times are over. On the contrary, they’ve only just began. Indeed, I have a new girlfriend; I have my masters to look forward to. Yes, life is good. The past is a constant and welcome companion as we walk resolutely towards the future. Tomorrow will also be sad, for there will be many partings, but in the photographs on my wall, and in the messages on facebook, I see that friendship never truly ends.

The Onevoice agm was on Saturday night. I went. In the back of their report, in the list of the donations, are the words ‘Manchester metropolitan university gospel choir’. I just want to record how proud of my friends I was at seeing those words: it was a wonderful thing Charlie and the choir did, and I think they are all amazing,

For Onevoice itself is amazing. To me, it isn’t just a charity – it is, as Beth put it, a world. It is a world where these can be themselves – confident and self assured. There, they can meet kids and adults just like them, who face exactly the same problems, yet have overcome them. Here, they hopefully see that there world is only limited by to things: their imagination, and the boundary of space-time itself.

Things like Onevoice are thus vital inasmuch as they show these kids and their parents what can be done. Me and my fellow role-models are all highly successful. Indeed, the speeches they all gave were all truly inspiring. With luck and a fair wind, maybe, in a few years, some of those kids will go to uni, befriend the leader of the choir (or, in Ian’s case, rock band) and the whole thing will start again.

I’ve written here before about how the right to communicate is often overlooked. People don’t realise just how central it is to life. I just found this video on youtube. It says it all, really.

I just got back from the Onevoice weekend, and I’m quite frankly knackered. It feels like years since we left home on Friday, for quite a bit happened over the weekend. Despite the best efforts of the weather – I’m convinced someone has stolen summer – all the kids seemed to be having fun. one of the highlights for me, of course, was the fact we had a film crew with us, filming the kids in action. I got to watch a music video being made, virtually from scratch, with the kids helping to compose the music, as well as appearing in the video. I kid you not, when you see it posted on youtube, you are going to be amazed. It is genuinely cool, kind of rap, rather funky. I loved it. I had to leave before I saw the finished video, but from what I did see in the small editing suite (working with the guy who made the ‘behind the scenes’ documentary on casino royale) it kicked butt.

It was so invigorating working with these kids. Me and the other role models all gave small talks this morning – mine was basically on university. Talking to these kids and their parents, telling them what can be done and what the future may hold, as well as listening to the other role models, is incredible. I’ll probably tell you more later in the week, but now I’m going to flop myself down in front of the TV. Life is good.

Waiting sucks. I hate it. Later I go to Onevoice; Steve gets here at about half one, then dad will drive us both to the venue. We should be there before four. The thing is, I can’t wait. Its only half nine, and I’m already packed and ready to go. Why does time go so slowly. Mark should find a way to speed it up by somehow manipulating gravity! Apparently, gravity bends space-time.. also, the more stationary you are, the faster time goes, which is just as well given I’ll be mostly sat reading in the conservatory this morning. It doesn’t seem to have much effect though, but then time for me goes at a constant pace. There is thus no way I can speed time up. Grr.

Oh, I know. I’ll go try to read mark’s thesis again. That should kill a couple of hours.

Did anyone else see The Alistair Cambel Diaries on bbc2 last night? To be honest, I found them quite fascinating, not just for the entries themselves, but for the archive footage. I had forgotten how much I liked Tony Blair back then – I think we all have. His reputation has since been muddied by the Iraq debacle, but what really struck me, looking again at this footage from 97, was his sincerity. He seemed to truly believe in what he was saying. He genuinely intended to improve the lot of the people of this country; he was passionate and forthright.

It occurred to me that Mr. CaMoron is trying to imitate Blair in 97. he too is trying to appear passionate and honest, but, unlike Blair of yesteryear, it seems just that: an act. It seems hollow. Indeed, it is hollow because his task is impossible. Conservatism runs contrary to the beliefs most in this country hold most dear: multiculturalism, fairness. At the end of the day, whereas liberalism requires a modicum of thought, conservatism is merely a set of base instincts disguised as a political ethos. For example, as children we care only for ourselves, and do not share, but as we grow, we hopefully realise that we belong in a society and position ourselves as part of a whole. Tories do not realise this, and so, child like, continue to care only for their selves. Their belief that a free-market economy will benefit all is a misguided excuse for this childish selfishness. It is therefore impossible for conservatism to appear fair and rational because that would be an oxymoron. This is why it is so blatant that CaMoron is merely performing an act. Anyone with an iq over 10 can tell this.

It is quite interesting to reflect on how central communication is to our culture, and indeed our species. We often take it for granted how important communication is; surprisingly so, when you look at it. It is all-prevalent and thus all powerful. If we take all forms of communication into account, it is incredibly important. This is probably why Lacan incorporated the symbolic in his tripartite – without the symbolic, the imaginary cannot access the real. Basically, your screwed.

Some examples may illustrate my point, but the problem is, where to begin – communication can be anything. For starters, I am of the opinion that academia can be boiled down to, and seen in terms of, one huge conversation: one person suggests an idea, which can be supported by or countered with other research, just as people in everyday life talk through ideas which may be argued or agreed with. Of course, there are differences in terns of content (what academic literature reviews a choice of breakfast cereal, and who talks about One loop phenomenology of type 2 string theory: intersecting D-branes and noncommunicativity over the garden fence?) but the point is they both employ the same structures. They both employ language, grammar, etc, the rules of posit and counter. They are, in the broadest sense, the same. They both are reducible to the ability to communicate. The same applies to virtually every situation, from parliament to the local pub. Hell, even this blog is a form of communication: at the moment, I am communicating my ideas on communication (not very well, admittedly). It also seems highly plausible to me, by the way, that it was the development of complex language that ensured human development over that of H. Neanderthalis. While I’m certain that odour nearest cousins had basic language, ours was more complex, paving the way, perhaps, for higher brain function (although it must be said that this gives rise to questions of the chicken and egg type). Either way,, language was quite central to human evolution. (go here for father reading)

It is thus obvious to me how important language and the ability to communicate is. I have written here before here about how, historically speaking, those without speech or other means to communicate have been written off as having severe learning difficulties, and, historically, institutionalised. If we juxtapose the centrality of communication in our species with the fact that access to the symbolic real is not universal, we can see why this happened.

This is why I believe the right to communicate should be inalienable. After all, what good is free speech without the ability to speak? This is why we need such things as the communication aids project, and 1Voice: in a species which seems to prise communication above all, all voices should be allowed to be heard.

Oh, now I know what’s wrong with me. I think I have post-bachelor disorder (go here). I too am becoming obsessive about my emails, but, unlike the girl in the cartoon, I would quite fancy free chocolate. Oh, wait – I have a packet of mars bars on my desk.

[stoled from a reference on mark’s facebook]

Nothing is impossible: I keep worrying about this and that, but worrying solves nothing. I find it leads to defeatism, which is never healthy. I was worrying about this post-graduation meal, when all it took was a simple question and a few emails and the solution was found. I have misplaced Cyril’s email address so I’ll just use this entry to tell him I would like him, after the graduation and drinks reception, to drive me to the venue of the meal at 6.30, help me eat there etc, then drive me home after (if need be, he can stay at my place the night, as can Esther if she goes). We should, I imagine, be home before 12, but you never know I suspect he’s in for a treat.

See? Sorted! I hope the rest of my readers don’t mind me using my blog to sort out my social life. I do feel, however, that for a person with limited speech, any means of communication is valid. You must use what is at your disposal. It is the only way to get past barriers.

I have difficulty using zips, especially small ones (like on a zentai, which are at the back). So what do I do? I don’t give up, leaving the suit in the cupboard, but either ask someone to help me put it on, or, if nobody is about, attach a chord to the zip so I can pull it up. It works a treat! To every problem there is thus a solution. My very first day at school, I was asked to take my coat off; ‘I can’t’, I said, only to be told there was no such word. These days, not only do I take my coat off, but I can even put it on too. All it takes is a little time and ingenuity. The same principle works for coats, zentai suits, and degrees.

This is precisely what I’ll be telling the guys at 1voice this weekend. Couldn’t email Cyril, so I used my blog; couldn’t do the zip so I used string; can’t talk clearly so I use a voca. No problem!

It’s funny how my mood can change in an instant. Most of yesterday I was feeling down about this affair of the post-graduation meal. Problem was my parents will probably want to go home after graduation, since dad will be tired having just flown in from a business trip. However, the joneses had invited me and my parents to dine with them and the Averys after graduation. Emma and Charlie being two of my best friends, I really wanted to go, especially given that I’m unsure when I’m going to see either of them again. I am still going to celebrate with my parents, but I can do that at the weekend.

This problem was bugging me. Uncle aki and aunt Dinah were here yesterday, and they could tell I was perturbed (frankly, it was obvious). Well, we were up in Manchester yesterday, visiting my cousin Cyril. We were in his flat, me brooding over some black coffee. Suddenly, my aunt, out of the blue, asked Cyril if he could help me out, coming to graduation and then taking me to the meal with my friends after. ‘Yeah, cool’ he said. My head lifted from the coffee, and I smiled. The solution was so simple. The details need to be worked out, but Cyril can take me to the meal, then take me either home or his place to crash thereafter. While I’m still waiting for an email from the joneses to confirm this is okay (I fear it may be too late), it reminded me of the simple truth that all problems can be solved.

It should be a top night. Cyril met Charlie at monster monster; I know Hugh and he will get on, I just know that Emma will love him. Why I got so het up about this god knows, but it was something to do with missing that party. Anyway, problem solved. I owe my aunt a beer!

I was at a loss for something to write here, but then I noticed something very important on facebook. Jen, who is hopefully going to be my new p.a in September, is 22 today. Jen is a great girl, and a good friend, so I just want to wish her a great birthday.

[wonder if she’s having a party I could crash]

Okay, I’ve been in a foul mood all afternoon, largely a result of frictions with my mum. We have contrasting ideas about what happens directly after my graduation. Also, I was feeling miserable about being stuck in on a Friday night. This mood gave rise to the rantings of my previous entry. It’s miserable, being so far away from your friends.

But then I realised: hey, what’s the point? I have no real reason to be down. Even if I go home after graduation, instead of staying out with my friends as I wanted, A. there was still fun to be had, and B. I’ll see my friends in the future. Anyway, I’m safe and warm and surrounded by family. My friends will not somehow divorce me if I cant go out after the ceremony with them (I hope not anyway). I was being irrational earlier. It just suddenly occurred to m what my friends would say if they saw me in such a mood: probably ‘don’t be such a stupid cripple’ or somesuch.

Mind you, I could still do with another bevy before bedtime.

I just found something funny: in Uganda, home brewed beer is drank through a drinking straw called an Epi. According to this article, a new one-man-one-straw policy has had to be implemented to stop the spread of tb. Personally, I prefer two straws. Straws are the way forward! Mind you, mum won’t let me drink much now I’m home, very much to my chagrin, but that’s another story… I mean, I’m an adult! Why should my alcohol intake be controlled by my mum? It’s fucking stupid; one of the disadvantages of cp.

I have finally got down to do some reading over the past couple of days: serious reading. It’s surprising how little time I’ve had for it recently. There was a time, in about 2000, when I used to read entire afternoons away, whizzing through Kenneth S. Lynn’s 400 page biography of Hemingway in about a week. These days I don’t seem to have the time or inclination to do that, always being distracted by friends, university and so forth. I still love reading, but it’s simple joy has of late been supplanted by other pursuits. Now I’m home, though, my bibliophilic side has returned.

I’m reading Bordwell’s ‘Narration in the fiction film’. I must admit I didn’t read it too thoroughly the first time, and I’m hoping it might help with my MA. As I was reading earlier, I was stuck by how concerned many film theorists are with the relationship between film and language. I am convinced, personally, that we must look elsewhere: I am still a structuralist, but I, like Metz, feel like film is alinguistic. It is quite different from and separate to all natural and synthetic languages; hence we must look elsewhere for a structuralist model of film. Where this model might lie I still do not know, but I’m very enthusiastic to find out. I’ve only just started the book; after lunch I’ll read more, and maybe once again read an afternoon away.

Is it me, or did I detect a stutter in Gordon browns voice at PMQs? I was watching it earlier, and brown did indeed seem very nervous. Mind you, who wouldn’t be under those circumstances? Yet, worryingly, CaMoron seemed to have the upper hand, with brown blatantly avoiding questions, and at times seeming unsure of himself. I have no doubt that once Brown finds his footing, he’ll be able to show the Tories to be the band of crooks and hypocrites they really are, but I just found today’s PMQs a little worrying.

the first point to be made in this entry is that Hugh Jones makes excellent bolognaise. I tried it this evening, and it was very good – I only hope I didn’t make too much mess eating it, although Jodie did an excellent job feeding me.

I have been in Chester, at the Jones house, since yesterday. Charlotte, of course, is still in Ibiza and I must admit I did feel her absence sitting out in the garden this afternoon, but when one is surrounded by such excellent people it’s hard to feel too down. For the burrow is how I left it: a warm, homely place, often buzzing with activity. There always seems to be music (even at half 7 of a morning, when one is prone to hear Will practicing his trumpet). Family friends are always popping by, to talk or have a drink

As a disabled person, I often feel self conscious when visiting people’s houses, but, oddly, I felt instantly at ease. The Jones family are kind warm people of whom, through Charlie, I have grown extremely fond. They share everything, and take delight in peoples company. they were as eeager to see me, I think, as I was to see them. I also found out that Mrs. Jones makes a chocolate pudding which would give mum’s chocolate yoghurt cake a run for it’s money! We were eating some of it last night, and I was forced to ask Mrs j. for the recipe. When one is in such excellent company, eating such excellent food, how can one not feel at home? Plus, last night, Hugh and Jodie took me to a nearby pub that sold the most excellent India pale ale!

While I would not like to impose myself too much on the joneses, I certainly hope I will be making more visits to ‘The burrow’ in the future. Being woken by Will’s trumpet practice is a tiny price to pay for such good friends.

I was just trying to read my big brother’s thesis. It was on the dining room table, looking all black and impressive, so I thought I would take a look at it. Of course, I knew I had no chance of understanding any of it, because I’m not a physicist or a mathematician, but I thought I’d give it a look all the same. Coolly, I noticed that I got a mention in the acknowledgements! Yay! I did notice, however, that Mark’s writing style has improved vastly since I read anything of his.

I’m still squealing with excitement about having a brother with a PhD. It’s just cool. I actually know a bona fide quantum physicist. Mind you, given that he’ll now be a smug git I’ll have to get my own PhD – I can’t let him get too big headed, can I? he’d end up thinking he’s the cleverest brother, when we all know that middle siblings are the clever ones.

That said, I better go read.

I woke up feeling much more positive about the world than I have done in a few days. Recently, I’ve been worrying about stuff – all sorts of crap; graduation, funding etc. while I still need to worry, I don’t have the sense of impending doom I once had. This is probably due to the break in the weather and my cold finally going. I feel like I can handle stuff better, and I feel more confident. I also feel like reading again (need to reread Bordwell). I would say life is good again, but it never felt bad, just slightly overwhelming. Life is as it always is – fun.

I may have said this here before, but I want to say it again. I was just looking through facebook: all my friends are there, so it’s a good way to keep in touch. I just have so many memories from there. University brought me the three best years of my life; I was surrounded by people who shared my interests, who wanted to learn and also wanted to have fun. This, of course, goes without saying – they wouldn’t be there if they didn’t want to learn.

Yet there are certain groups within society who take thee opposite approach to life. Many kids view learning as geeky and school as uncool. These people worry me. For starters, I cannot help but feel sorry for them, as they are denying themselves so much fun: uni brings so much joy, from going to summer balls to seeing your big brother wear a stupid hat! It is clear that I come from a very academic family, so was brought up to value learning, but only now do I properly see why. At the end of the day, university and learning opens just so many doors. Graduates become teachers and writers, politicians and scientists. In short, I cannot help but conclude that in our hands – the hands of the learned – lie the reigns of power. To turn one’s back on learning, as many school kids do, is thus folly.

Now, it is not as simple as a choice. The decision not to take the academic path is born of many factors, class being possibly the foremost. My middle class family always impressed upon me the need to learn, taking the time to teach me things school did not. Now look: so far, the haul is two firsts and a PhD. I must say that my parents got this drive from my maternal parents, where the haul is even more impressive: among my siblings, parents, cousins aunts and uncles are 8 degrees, about 4 masters and 2 doctors. At present, the only one without a degree is my bro Luke, due to finish next year. But I digress. My point is, our grandparents endowed us all with the motivation to learn, a drive which too few kids are being given.

Of course, it is far too simplistic to argue that this is just down to motivation. Parents need the time and money to encourage kids. Yet, this way the status quo perpetuates itself: working class kids will settle for a second rate education, not push themselves, and grow up to be working class adults. To me, this is a stupid state of affairs as it means the squandering of a hell of lot of potential and a gross imbalance of power.. Surely the more we encourage kids the better off we will all be.

Hence we must stop this anti-intellectualism in children. Try to break the circle through will. We need to show them how much fun, how cool learning is. I rather suspect that this is especially prevalent among kids in special schools, who are apt to become very disillusioned with the whole system. It is up to the likes of me, therefore, to show tem what is possible, and just how much fun it can be.

Ye gads and little fishes! Never have I been so relieved to wake up than I was this morning. I was having a nightmare, dreaming that my brother had been executed by the French. Ii can’t remember what for, but it was terrible. I remember thinking ‘but he only got his PhD yesterday’. Bloody miserable dream. It’s all Graham’s fault: him and his Outsider. We were all very upset.

I woke up and smiled. The French had not executed mark, after all. Yay! I was in bed, and the sun was up. I dressed, and went to find breakfast, hugging mum on my way. The day got better when I saw, on the kitchen table, my Cat Empire CD! Yay! These guys rule man: as I say, c got me into them, listening to them on Wednesdays before brandies. Their music is just so lively, and will always remind me off the best times. Its music to chase the demons of the night away.

In light of yesterday’s momentous event, I typed ‘doctor’ into YouTube. look what happened. oh, how very (per)twee!

This entry will be nowhere near as long as it deserves, given the probfundity of that which it details. Today, my brother became, officially, dr. mark Goodsell. We just got back from the graduation ceremony in durham, so I’m tired. Nnevertheless, I’ll just record that I am now the proudest brother ever. Well done mark!

What do I write about today? There are two major things going on. The first you all probably know about, the second only my family knows of.

Today Gordon brown becomes PM. This is a good thing. If we leave aside for the moment the Iraq debacle, I like Tony Blair. He’s a little more conservative than I once thought, but his innings have for the most part been a good one. The nhs has improved vastly; disabled people have more rights, such as the right to a good education; employment is up, crime is down. I do not sense the hatred for the government I felt towards the end of the Tory era. Nevertheless, its time for Blair to go he upset a lot of people over Iraq, including myself, and to stay any longer would be undemocratic.

Eyebrows must, however, be raised over the coronation of brown. It is true that he dies not have a mandate from the people, although on the other hand the people reelected Blair in the full knowledge that one day they would see him morph into brown. I think, therefore, that brown must call an electron sooner rather than later maybe next year or the year after.

I just hope the people off this country do not fall for CaMoron. This means that Brown will have to establish himself as authoritative and genuine, in contrasts to CaMoron who changes his manifesto depending of who he speaks to. For me, as a disabled person, brown is the rational choice – the Tories would see us all back in homes and special schools in a money-saving scheme. I am quite certain that, under the Tories, I would not have gone to uni: the support structures I needed, like direct payments, would simply no have been there. It was only under a liberal, left-of-centre (well, nominally) government that a person like me could do so well, leaving as I did with a first class degree as well as friends and memories I’ll cherish forever. If Brown does not get re-elected next time, and are fool enough to fall for CaMoron and his crowd of sycophants and spin doctors (did you see David Davies on Newsnight last night desperately trying to spin the defection of Quentin Davies as a new labour stunt? It is sickening how low Tories will go to distort the truth) then I fear that future generations of disabled people will not enjoy the advantages I did. The fact is that in order to flourish we need the state infrastructures guaranteed only by a left-of-centre government. This is why brown must be re-elected.

In much less worrying business, I go up to Durham tonight to see my big brother mark get his PhD tomorrow. I am, needless to say, immensely proud of him; now I get to call him the doctor. I saw a hard-bound copy of his PhD thesis on Saturday, and was almost as impressed as when I saw that copy of the complete works dad got! I was jealous too – I wanted to be the first brother to be hard bound! Seriously though, all three of us seem to be flourishing. With my first and Mark’s PhD, Luke has a bit to live up to! No doubt that, with the right support structures, he too will excel!

Before I start this, I better apologise to mum for keeping her up so late, and thank Jo, her dad, Gilles and Maria for the lift home. How lucky I am to have such excellent friends and parents.

However, let me assure you that it was all worth it. Last night I watched (and had a small cameo in) Graham’s adaptation of Camus’ The Outsider. As I wrote on here before, graham lent me the book and then his script to read. First, I liked the book; then, I was very impressed by the script; yet the final piece blew me away. Never have I seen a finer piece of theatre. Never! Graham is my friend, but I am not simply being a sycophant: it was excellent, standing head and shoulders above anything

I have seen at uni,

Most university productions are contemporary theatre, and short. As such, most are abstracted to he point of incoherence. The Outsider, on the other hand, was more akin to traditional theatre inasmuch as it had a discernable plot and ran to about two hours. It also had characters one could believe in. Although I must sat I will never fully understand Mersault, he seemed real flesh and blood, with real (well hidden) feelings. This is ion stark contrast with the dramatis Personae of CTP, which are figments: hollow and random. I must say here that Steve jessop, who played Mersault, delivered possibly the best performance I have ever seen. His eruption at the end was phenomenal – literally jaw-dropping. He played his part to absolute perfection. I was extremely impressed, as were all the audience.

I am unsure whether this was because of the actors or director. From what I saw, both worked their socks off. While the utmost praise is due to the cast, I stand in awe of graham. I saw him create this text – working solidly for eight or nine hours straight sometimes, shaping, polishing and sharpening it. As a writer I was impressed

by his script, but he seems to excel at directing.

I had to miss his production of 100 Years of Solitude – a fact which I still regret – which I had to make certain I saw last night’s performance. As with solitude, graham has imbued me with fresh enthusiasm for the dramatic art. I sincerely hope I can one day work with him again.

I must admit I am rather troubled, and have been all weekend. My friends and I want to go to Ibiza this summer. Charlottes working out there, and there was an embryonic plan to go visit her. Problem is, I don’t know how. I’ve never organised anything like this in my life. Newquay was great, as was Paris, so that is encouraging, yet I can’t help but feel flustered. It’s the small things, like what if my friends organise to go the weekend of 1voice. 1vooice must take precedence, simply as matter of principal (C I suspect would agree). Hence in London, where we went this weekend, I spent yesterday worrying about getting a message to my friends not to book it for that weekend. I felt…well, powerless to be honest.

It’s funny, really. I’m probably blowing such things out of all proportion. If we go, its good; if not, I’m sure c will understand. Its just that I cannot help but fret.

Dad just plugged in my university computer at home, and everything’s up and running, so I’m happy. I have a mountain of paper to sort through, clothes to put away, so I’m pretty busy. It doesn’t seem two minutes since I sat in this very spot – maybe to the right to inches or so – and wrote this. yet I also seems an age away; I’ve come so far, grown so much. University is an experience I’ll never forget; it gave me memories I’ll treasure my whole life. It was the greatest thing I ever did.

My last day as an undergraduate just started. I cannot really believe it’s been three years. I do not want to repeat myself – you know what fun I have had, and how intently I will miss it. Anyway, all being well I will be back here next year for my masters.

For old times sake, I’ll just send you here, once again. Its been a blast!

Last night something pretty cool happened. Dad came here at about 7 to repair the chair, and after that I headed over to ps1 to catch up with g and the guys. I found that the rehearsal had just ended, but Richard and Justin were hanging around to work on the music. I waited about for ten minutes, then rich returned with some beers, and I watched the guys jam.

Those two guys were awesome. Justin, a friend of graham’s from the south, is quite a good bass player; Richard was on the drums. They must have just played for about ten minutes, just riffing. The lights were low, and I had a beer, and a huge feeling off contentment slipped over me.

Its been quite a long day at art school. I work 9 till four, which are longer hours than I’m used to. Today I was working in the gallery, showing kids round with their teachers. It’s mostly the children’s work in there, but, in the corner, on one stand, there’s an abstracted version of my exhibition – the only work of an mmu student in there. I gotta say that’s quite an ego boost, especially given that it was uni who asked me if they could put it up. I think its quite a complement.

oh, I forgot to clarify: I did indeed get a first. the letter was on the kitchen table when I got home on friday, confirming it. Not bad eh. the good news is that all of my friends passed too. nice one guys.

now, if only going to places like ibiza and chester was as simple as writing essays. [here I should ask the jones clan to bear with me. I will see you [i]sometime[/i]this summer (if you still want me)]

Dad and I argued yesterday evening. It was my fault – I neglected to tell him my chair was damaged, among other things. The back lights had come loose. I would ask him now to go here.

sorry dad

Its been ages since I have had a political rant. Recently I’ve been focussing on writing about the events around me. This is what has seemed important to me: my friends have been leaving, I’m going home soon myself, and I can’t help but feel morose about it. Now that campus is virtually empty, and nobody is about, I can focus on other stuff. My parents took my clothes home last night, leaving me just enough for the week, so I can’t have fun dressing up either. Boo.

Anyway, I was eating breakfast in the wes earlier, and David CaMoron was being interviewed on bbc news. In his ‘reasonable’ ‘jovial’ manner,, he was attacking labour’s tactic of ‘top down’ government. Naturally as a conservative, he thinks that institutions should be controlled by the people, not the government. When he said this, I realised just how stupid he and the philosophy he expounds is. The government, in a liberal democracy, IS the people. the people elect the government to control the institutions by proxy. If we allowed institutions such as the NHS to be run independently, as in free market capitalism, they would be run for profit. The result will be streamlined, cost-efficient, but also uncaring, unfair and open to mistakes. It’s executives would care more about their purses than patients. In short, it would be catastrophic.

People who vote conservative fail to understand this. we need government to help things run. People on their own are selfish, but working together we can be so much more. Thus we need governmental control for efficient administration. Conservatism, as we found before ’97, does not work. Frankly, I find it a sham philosophy – the only governing principals behind it are greed, fear of difference and fear of others. It means clinging on to the status quo – sort of an ‘I’m alright, sod you’ mentality. It’s exponents, of course, claim that it is ran my ‘social Darwinism’, i.e., left to its own devices, society will improve, but this is to misunderstand Darwin. He was describing nature, or rather it’s unconscious mechanisms. If we apply pure Darwinian principals to society, there would be a huge waste of talent – it would be a case of survival of the greediest and most opportunistic, not the ‘fittest’.

More pertinently to this blog, where would it leave us cripples? If society was based on conservatism, I think we would be screwed. We, without support such as direct payments, would not be able to keep up (I’m talking literal, physical support). It is the government which should be expected to provide this support on two counts: A) expecting people to pay for their own support would lead to an unfair, inhumane lottery of life. B) under the social model, it is society which disables us through it’s barriers; it follows that society should be expected to remove those barriers.

Why don’t people see conservatism for what it is? It is a sham, poorly thought out, centred on the self; it is as worrying as it is ridiculous. Why it didn’t die out in the late nineteenth century would be beyond me, had I not factored in people’s inability to understand new ideas.

The question is, how do I start this and what to include? How do I put this? It’s almost too incredible for words, this feeling – this euphoric feeling – is almost impossible to describe. Yesterday three of the most incredible years of my life reached a peak. It’s as if a grand symphony reached the very moment of climax and all the notes and phrases which had been before were added up to make one divine chord.

These really have been the best years of my life. I have loved almost every moment of my university experience, both academically and socially. Of course, I think the second equated the first. I think that if a student flourishes socially at university, he or she is more likely to flourish academically. I found that I was in a very supportive environment, so surrounded by friends which made university seem like a positive place to be. This made me more inclined to push myself. I think that staying in halls has helped greatly with this, for I was able to enjoy the company of people in exactly my position. Living at uni and finding it a fun place to be is more likely to foster a positive work ethic. I think my friends felt the same. In other words, if you are allowed to play hard, you are more likely to work hard. I think we all play hard. I have so many good memories; going to Paris in the second year, going to Newquay in the third year, discos at Brandies every Wednesday, doing my exhibition, winning the pub quiz two weeks in a row, going to Steve’s house party, going to Charlotte’s house and staying overnight, going to my first every night club, the list goes on. I don’t think this would have been possible had it not been for two factors which overlock slightly. Firstly, I have the best group of friends a man could ask for. People who I love dearly and who support me. Second, I have a very good set of Pas – without them I couldn’t possibly have come to uni. I wouldn’t be able to eat for one, or take notes, or do virtually anything that made university so much fun. As I say, the two groups overlap, it is impossible not to regard your Pas as your friends if you see them day-in, day-out. As I said on Wednesday, there is some overlap. While some may frown upon this over issues of control, I found it works exceptionally well.

Finally, Esther, without her none of this would be possible. She took my notes and gave me lunches, but she also did much more, she kept me on the straight and narrow, reminded me to do things. I owe her a lot, as with Steve, Charlie, and Nicky, I am extremely fond of her.

And so we reach the end of this blog entry; the end of my degree, the end of an era. I will miss it. I will miss all my friends. I will miss lectures. I will miss typing out assignments after breakfast and meeting everyone in the Wes at about 11. I will miss dinner with Charlotte. I will miss getting dressed up in the most ridiculous clothes and going to Brandies. I will miss sitting out on the blue benches with Jim. I will miss going to Graham’s rehearsals. I will miss everything. I should say that this blog entry is to be read in the context of all the entries before it, which I made in the last few years.

And now we come to it. It gives me great pleasure to announce that I got my results yesterday. The grand cherry was put on the most delicious cake ever: although I’m yet to see actual written confirmation of this, so it might change, it presently looks like I got a first!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUM!see you tonight. love you lots

I was over in Crewe earlier today, on business which I’ll blog about tomorrow, when the woman organising artscool came up to me. As I’ve said before, they want to put on my exhibition again, as part of it. However, just as I was taking a bite of my mars bar, she approached me. While she thought my work was brilliant, she had noticed two of the bits of writing had swear words in. as it was for kids, she asked me to change the offending words.

The first piece I had no problem with: its simply a case of changing arse to butt (arse is cooler, but never mind). However, the second piece was different. It is the closing sentence of this blog entry I need to change. While I see her point, I also think that profanity is necessary, especially in such cases. She did, in fact, agree with me, but there are kids involved. I am loathe to change it – those words were written out of hatred and despair. Most of my work in my exhibition, I feel, is very upbeat, but people need to see the contrast.

While the thought of changing those words puts me in a foul mood, I guess I need to change them. After all, there are kids involved. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it.

I find myself fretting over the entry I wrote last night (link); I think there are bits I forgot to say. It is intended simply to question the received notions of who one should employ as a PA. for me, the solution of employing a person who is already a friend or associate works wonderfully, as long as it is handled maturely. Thus, when charlotte first became my PA, we ere already friends. However, I do feel our bonds grew stronger as time went on, and the more we saw of each other, at dinner time etc, the more we wanted to see of each other socially. Provided that you both agree upon what is what I see no harm In this. yes, there are ambiguities (eg, a trip with other friends to the cinema), but these can be talked through and agreed upon (basically you just need to be relaxed, open and honest, three qualities which miss Jones possesses in spades!). I really feel it has lead to a firm and lasting friendship, although whether this friendship would have developed in such a way anyway is hard to discern. I have many other great friends here, but I seem to have grown especially attached to c. we spent a lot of time together, which is why I miss her.

I think, too, that this is only suitable for a few people: you can’t employ any of your friends. Charlie was ideal because she has the right temperament and attitude, as does Steve and Esther. I should say, too, that it is only because Charlie is Charlie that we grew so close. Whether I’ll grow closer to jen next year remains to be seen.

Better stop going on about this. I hope Charlie doesn’t mind me recording all this, but I think it important for me to try to explain to other disabled people my perspective on organising my own care, and the advantages and disadvantages to it. all I am saying is that this method, unorthodox though it is, helped me forge one of the most wonderful friendships of my life. It worked brilliantly for me: all my needs were met, with the minimum of fuss. I think we both had great fun too. You just need to respect eachother. It probably isn’t suitable in all cases, but given the result it produced, – a great year and a hell of a friendship – I do not regret it in the slightest.

I freely admit that choosing a friend to be PA a is very unorthodox. I rather suspect that some of my friends from the disabled community would probably frown upon my asking Charlie and Steve – two of my best friends – to PA for me. There are dangers inherent in such a choice; however, if handled properly, I feel it can work wonderfully, and I am really glad I did it.

I better explain the reasoning behind my decision. Charlotte was, and remains, a good friend of mine. She also lived, this year, on campus, just the other side of the sports hall. The obvious advantages to this were that A) having seen Bill PA for me, Charlie knew exactly what I needed, and B) if need be, I could very easily ask for her help by knocking on her window. Often, this worked better than e-mail. C knows me very well, and can thus meet my needs. Moreover, given that we fitted into the same large social group, our activities matched almost exactly: wherever she wanted to go, I usually wanted to. Also, although she is not a ‘professional’ PA, she was open to helping me shower etc, so she met my needs in that area.

However, one must be careful with this strategy. You must trust each other completely, as well as keeping a level head. The split between social time and PA time must be clear: for example, on Wednesday nights – disco nights – I usually put charlotte down as having worked three hours for me: one hour tea time, another getting me ready, one hour putting me to bed, approximately. Note, too, that I allowed for her to get me drinks too, which an ordinary PA would have to do. The rest of the time we were together in a capacity of friends. We both understood this, and it is why you must show your PA a timesheet to sign. You must therefore be completely open, and, of course, it is a supreme credit to charlotte that she didn’t once try to take advantage of this. Another case in point is newquay: we were both going, so asking charlotte to feed me my meals etc seemed more expedient than taking another person. The rest of the time we were simply together as friends.

It has been suggested by some that this strategy may cause an imbalance in power: one friend wants to do this, another wants to do that. However, I found that, as long as one is open and reasonable, this did not occur. Sometimes, I was happy to go along with Charlie, and visa versa. Campus is so small that options are limited and our intentions often coincided. if they did not, a way to accomodatee my needs was usually found.

Of course, there were occasions when we wanted to be together purely as friends. On such occasions, like Monster Monster, I took another PA. in that way, we could simply have fun together, and it turned out to be a great night. I think this is why I feel so affectionately towards her: we spent a lot of time together, at dinner time etc, and the more time I spent with her, naturally, the more I grew to like her. I do feel that she became almost more than a friend; it’s fair to say we became very close. Thus, I think we became closer this way. In a way, I’m glad she’ no longer officially my employee, as now we can just enjoy each others company whenever we meet. (mind you, I think it is in charlotte’s nature to care for people, so odds on she’ll still help me out however she can)

As I say, you must be careful. Charlotte is an exceptional person; I think this can only work with people like her, who are open, honest, and trusting. It would not work in places other than a campus, which fosters such openness, friendship and trust: we students have a strong sense of comradeship. This is why I need an ordinary PA over summer, but next year I intend to ask Jen, a 2nd year friend, to PA for me. Unorthodox, maybe, but I found it works very well indeed.