Yesterday I was in stoke on car-related business, which gave me chance to go to the cinema, something which I should do more often. The film which struck me most was Roman Polanski’s Oliver, why should such an auteur do a kid’s movie?

The answer is that Oliver wasn’t a kid’s movie: parts of it were dark and brooding. There’s no overt violence, just suggested violence, which is worse. Jamie foreman made a fearsome bill Sykes – dark, brooding and more than a little psychotic. This is Charles Dickens’ tale as it was intended to be, stripped of the songs and dodgy cockney accents. Polanski again proves himself to be a master – there are some simply breathtaking shots in this film.

Speaking of which, has anyone noticed how so many forthcoming Hollywood movies are adaptations of British books? Yesterday I saw a trailer for The Loin, The Witch and the wardrobe, as well as goblet of fire. I really think we’re in for a treat with both of these films. The latter is a continuation of the potter series, which seems to be becoming darker and darker with every film; the former, I suspect, is Disney’s answer to The Lord of the Rings, (which was made by New line, an offshoot of Warner, who also make Potter). It was only a matter of time before the Disney corp. responded with something similar.

From what little I saw, they are very similar: the same grandiose mise-en-scene employed in Lotr is employed in TLTWATW. Both were filmed in new Zealand. The irony is, the authors of both books were good friends, and drank in the same Oxford pub. I only hope Adamson is as faithful to CS Lewis as Jackson was to Tolkien.

I honestly think life today rules. Life at university I mean. It’s how I imagine normality to be. I’m half considering becoming a poster child for university!

On Monday night my friend Steve invited me to his place, to watch movies and chat. Yesterday, bill drove me round after tea: we had decided to meet at The Woodlands, and we waited outside that pub for about five minutes until stev showed up to guide us to their place.

This was a typical student place – a mess, with posters everywhere. Sort of grimey. I went in, and had quite a good evening just talking and watching films. I selected ‘You only live twice’ from their collection – I have a soft spot for bond – and we watched that. Quite a cool film. Did you notice, when they try to turn bond Japanese, he looks a bit like a Vulcan?

We then watched ‘Dude where’s my car?’ I have seen it before, and it still strikes me as inane, but funny.

So, just a typical, student evening. My mates were really great, and I’m trying to think of ways of returning the favour,

this is reasonably welcome news. I think stem cell research is vital, but my one nagging concern was the issue of killing a life to save another (ok, an oversimplification there, but you get my meaning). now science has seemingly bypassed the problem. great stuff!

it has come to my attention how bad television has become these days. I might just be getting old, or more conservative (god forbid) but I’m starting to agree with John Humphries. He once argued that reality TV was innately bad for you, and TV was getting worse. Although his argument was flawed in some respects, he was correct on a few counts.

Last night I was watching TV with my parents and brothers. We were watching Pop Idol on ITV, as my mum likes it for some reason. Frankly, I was struck by how manipulative the programme is: its designed to achieve maximum conflict. That is to say, since viewers like to watch people argue, its edited to highlight the arguments and the friction between the judges. Thus, what can be shown in 30 minutes is extended to be shown in 120, packed with adverts, highlights, replays…

Humphries cites what he calls the ‘Blue planet defence’. That is to say, there are certain programmes – The life of Mammals, A history of Britain, Himalaya etc which one can argue make television worthwhile. But, due to their nature, these are few and far between. It is cheaper to throw together something like Big brother than forge a David Attenborough documentary series. While sir David is infinitely more interesting than a bunch of halfwits in a house, big brother will get more viewers because it appeals to the lowest common denominator.

I’m not sure why. The British public seem to like watching this kind of pap, like being told what to think, who to like and who to hate. We will sit passively down to an episode of a soap opera without an inkling that what is going on before us is a melodrama designed to re-enforce the status quo. We sit down to feature films, barely aware of the complex socio-political mechanisms involved. The very mise-en-scene is designed to reinforce these messages, but I digress.

My point is we are better than this. We are better than being entertained by watching a few people sing discordantly. If you like singing, turn ff the TV and go to the bar, or indeed the Opera! By all means watch TV, but watch it critically. Watch documentaries, then hit the books. T.V can be so wonderful, as it has the potential to inspire, but its doing that less and less these days. Alas.

A most welcome piece of mail greeted me upon my arrival home tonight: the onevoice newsletter arrived. It was gratifying to see my article published in it. It always pleases me to see my writing published, as is the case with any writer, but what frankly pleased me more is that it reminded me why I wrote it in the first place: the feeling I had made a difference on the 1voice weekend.

My parents read it too. they now wholeheartedly approve of 11voice. Maverick that I try to be, its still nice to know I have mum and dad behind me on this.

Its great to be reminded of such things, in the depths off autumn: happy days. And I still remember beth’s smile.

http://www.1voice.info

This fascinating guardian article was sent to me by my big bro, Mark.. It’s a good read, on how religiosity may have a genetic basis. I suspected as much, to be honest, given that a. religious belief would increase a social group’s cohesion (as it had to in the early Massachusetts settlement of Salem) and b. I notice that religious parent often, but not always, have religious children, although this maybe due to environmental factors. my one niggle is that wilson rarely includes references.

all together now

[Chorus:]

That, that dude looks like a lady

That, that dude looks like a lady

That, that dude looks like a lady

That, that dude looks like a lady

Cruise into a bar on hte shore

Her picture graced the grime on the door

She’s a long lost love at first bite

Baby maybe you’re wrong but you know it’s all right

That’s right

That, that

That, that

Backstage we’re havin’ the time of our live until somebody say

Forgive me if I seem out of line

Then she whipped out her gun and tried to blow me away!

[Chorus]

Never judge a book by it’s cover or who you gonna love by your lover

Sayin’ love put me wise to her love in disguise

She had the body of a Venus, Lord imagine my surprise.

[Chorus]

So baby let me follow you down (let me take a peek dear)

Baby let me follow you down (do me, do me, do me all night)

Baby let me follow you down (turn the other cheek dear)

Baby let me follow you down (do me, do me, do me, do me)

Oo, what a funky lady

Oo, she like it, like it, like it, like that.

Oo he was a lady!

[Chorus]

Going o the barber is my least favourite activity. I need my head holding still, as for some reason every time I need to concentrate on holding my head still it wobbles even more. Dad has observed this when he tries to shave me, much to his chagrin. I therefore have to have someone physically hold my head. In the past, this has always been a family member, usually Luke or mum. Now I’m at university, time with my parents or brothers is limited, and, as my hair grew, it was becoming increasingly obvious that I was going to have to ask my p.a to take me to the barber.

Now, I have two totally ambivalent feelings about my hair. One says it would be cool to see what it is like long for a change, and maybe do something with it perhaps pigtails. It could not be worse than Luke’s current hair cut, which looks like the magnetic stripes on the sea bed. Another part of me says hair is a total waste off time, an not worth bothering with. This part insists I get it cut, and, as it coincided with the feelings of my parents, that’s what I did.

I must admit, I tried to take short a short cut last week by getting a friend (whose name I cannot divulge) to cut the fringe. This was a mistake, as, according to Luke, the results looked like Dwain Dibley. So, as we needed to take the car for petrol, after writing today we went too find a barber.

It was nearing the end of the day, and the barber’s shop was quiet. There was only one other gentleman to wait for, and a short flick through a men’s magazine later, it was my turn. Quite what he thought as I approached the chair I don’t know, but he seemed like a nice enough chap.

‘take it to half it’s length’ I said, not daring to have it cut any shorter simply through fear of blood. My p.a translated and we were off.

I tried keeping my head still myself at first, but without anything to lodge it against, it was flappier than corn in a gale. I had to ask my p.a to hold it still, something I’d been trying to avoid. I’m not sure too why – like being shaved, it’s different when a family member does it as apposed to a personal assistant. Its rather intimate, as well as an admission of ones limits I suppose.

Anyway, the whole process only took a few minutes, and I paid the guy his requested fiver, and we were en route back home, stippling to get twenty quid of unleaded on the way before having dinner in the Wes. Thus I’m taking small steps towards total independence, and it feels good!

It is very unlikely that he reads my blog, but I need to apologise to mr beckham for my closing remark on my last entry. I was angry at him for getting sent off on Saturday. However, today I heard that one of the beckham’s sons has been having seizures. Although this does not excuse his behaviour, I believe it makes it a little more understandable – a father’s love is a father’s love.

I love cricket, genuinely and with a passion, but I’m not too interested in the current series of the world vs Australia. While I find the sport beautiful, and there’s nothing I’d rather do than spend an afternoon watching it, but I don’t really like the present series. Firstly, its on sky, which I don’t like, and secondly, I have nobody to root for. I’m not Australian, so I cant support them, but the only reason I’d want to support thee rest of the world is because I’d want the Australians to loose – I have no allegiance to the opposing team. I have some Australian friends, and ok, although I was teasing james yesterday by miming Warne’s dropped Pieterson catch, its all in good fun. I kind of like Australians, and do not wish them another defeat. Thus, while I keep one eye on this series, I’m not too fussed about it. I’m looking forward to the tour of the subcontinent, though.

And no fool get sent off n cricket, either, eh, mr bechkham?

this blog entry wonn’t be long. my pc keeps cccrashing. I’m home for the weekend, and my home pc is rather old. itt crashed 6 or 7 times, before I gave up and went to bed to waatch tv. then, ten minutes later, the stupid thing spontaneously loads up. thought I’d beteer do soomething now it’ss running. I just ope itt doesnt keep me up all night.

this story of the fight between an aligator and a python just begs to be posted, if just for the following line ‘The Burmese python tried to swallow its fearsome rival whole but then exploded’ I’ll be laughing for days

There’s a boycott at the bar tonight, so I’m having a night in. as I noted last week, there’s a dispute between the union and the university hierarchy over where the proceeds go. I forgot, so I rolled to the bar to find it empty. The disco was being set up, but there were none off the cheers from the footballers (AAA ZUM A ZUM A ZUM etc) nor the steady stream of scantily clad girls. I waited about half an hour, then remembered Grey’s prophecy of a boycott. Hence I set my sites on a night behind my p.c, chatting to friends, streaming radio 4. showing some solidality with my fellow students beats brandies any day.

As a person with Cypriot relatives, I was kind of brought up thinking that the Turks were bogeymen. My grandfather, I think it fair to say, was very anti-Turk. Despite this, even I can see the obvious logic in welcoming turkey into the EU. Not to do so would make Europe seem like some kind of Christian club, which would only further enrage the Muslim extremists, as it would appear turkey was being denied access to wealth on the basis of religion. This would, furthermore, reduce the whole European project to a talking shop, and it would be increasingly ignored by the other world players – china, India, the u.s. Europe can only survive if its diverse but coherent; not to let turkey join would be pure folly.

I read this earlier. I cant find a full online version, but basically these fundies think penguins would be good models for human society. penguins? They’re insane! I laughed until I almost wept

Cultural elevation is a organisation run by my mate Rob. Every now and then, they organise bashes in the college bar: there was one last night, which I went to having become a member last week. Rob’s vision is an eclectic mix of arts, but at the moment it seems to have a focus on urban art forms like rap and break dance. Thus I saw quite an impressive dance off last night, with the audience standing in a circle, the DJ having selected something with a strong beat, as four or five guys danced in a most extraordinary fashion. That ruled!

However, I am unsure about the ‘elevation’ bit. It raises some interesting questions. It seems to imply a value judgement – to what state does this organisation want to elevate culture to? surely this is subjective. In what way does culture need elevating. What, indeed, is culture?

I love all art. I love film (naturally) music and visuals and so on. I have nothing against a society where people are allowed and encouraged to express themselves. Such an idea is wonderful, but the name just sits uncomfortably in my belly. To be honest it whiffs slightly of evangelist language.

this.mov file was brought to my attention last night. apart from being funny as hell, it’s quite the most brilliant piece of editing i’ve seen. go look.

On Tuesday in my first writing workshop we were introduced to postmodernism. The central concept is, as far as I can gather, that there are no absolutes, since the postmodernists reject the ‘grand narratives’ i.e., religion, science. These are social constructs, transmitted via language which can never be objective since it inherently is imbued with the speakers biases. Thus, what we perceive as real is entirely subjective.

This kind of makes sense to me, but I have problems with it. It seems incompatible with science at first glance, until one remembers that science offers us no absolute truths, only theories which must be tested and may one day be superseded. Even time is relative. Yet science is the search for the truth – or as near as we can get to it. Is it, or is it not,, attainable. Uncertainty says god plays dice, but particle physics is based on maths, which is constant. One plus one must always make two, so postmodernism and science contradict. Do they, or don’t they?

What is fast becoming certain is that I’ll have fun exploring this issue.

According to grey, last night may have been the last disco for a while. The student’s uunion has fallen out with the chaps who put the event on – the latter are too greedy. They make a killing on the bar and the door: must be about 750 ppl attend, each charged 2 quid. None of that money, however, goes backinto the venu, so greys organising something else.

With this in mind, I took my opportunity to dress up. Out camethe bunnygirl outfit. It was, however, blowing a gale out there, and the last time I went outside in winter in a leotard and tights I cought cold. I had learned my lesson, and put my jumper and joggers back on over my outfit so I could disrobe at the bar, hopefully with help from a pretty girl. Me clever!

This plan worked well. I took my manual chair – I never take my electric to the bar: recipe for broken f55 and a seriously peeved dad. I went to join the football social, having the security guy take my clothes off as the party got started, before the main lights went off. I behave myself more when I’m iin those clothes, and try to keep them clean, so I stay sober, which I did.

What else can I say? I didn’t get cold, and one of the footballers redressed me and took m home. Quite a cool night.

I just noticed i can no longer play rock paper scissors on weebles stuff.com. college wont let me download macromedia flash, which is rather tiresome, but not the end of the world.

talking of cartoons, cripcomic was launched yesterday. thusfar, tthere is only one strip, but its interesting stuff. Inasmuch as it subverts the status quo bu having a disabledd person as its main dramatis personae, it can be seen as postmodern. It uses the languag of our subclture (if such a thing exists), and thus can be seen as a statement of pride in dusability. hehehe…academic language rules!

Maybe itts the writer in me, oor the philologist, but it’s surprising how just reading a simple turn of phrase can cheer me up. This morning, I was doing my rounds on the blogs of my friends – luke b’s, Kate’s etc. I came across one which uses some words which have now sadly fallen out of use.

Spiffing’…’good egg’ what wholesome expressions. My friend Will at macc college used to use them. They seem homely, old school.. English, like cricket, or punting. I find the fact that they’re still in use somewhere kind of comforting, especially in today’s world of coarse language and vulgarity. I often hang out with Sports students, where every second word is a vulgarity, and we all know how much swearing there is in film. Of course, I have nothing against swearing, but it seems the old phrases like Good Egg are dying out. The fact that they’re still being used by some people, without sarcasm, is kind of satisfying to me.

I cant explain why.

Today, my uncle, aunt cousin and his Girlfriend, Saran, were here for lunch. Although they visit way too rarely, I’m fond of them. We were talking about religion, and my concern with creationism, and Uncle Aki told us about the time when some mormons visited my bappou. They were showing bappou any yeaya a slideshow, when suddenly bappou said, quietly and slowly, ‘I think this is a heresy.’

You might not understand why this amuses me unless you knew buppou: this quiet, gentle man, who was deeply religious, suddenly saying such a thing. I can’t explain.

If theres one thing about my anthems which troubles me, its that it would have hurt my grandfather.

heres more on yesterdays entry

I am worried about the state of American culture, and especially the rise of religion there. I have no problem with people believing as they wish, be it in some bearded God or in a flying spaghetti monster (with his noodly appendage). No, what worries me is when they try to foist their beliefs on others.

Marxists say that religion is a repressive state structure, designed to control a population. For a long period of time, church and state were linked, so the church was an integral part of enforcing the law of the land. Government took it’s authority from the church, which, in turn, took it’s authority from god. To an extent, the two were symbiotic.

Now the symbiosis is gone. With the rise of science came secularism, and governments draw their mandates from the ballot box. Hence, now the church is a competing, unelected power base, and in America at least it is thirsty for power. It seems to be trying to draw people back to the pew, and I think this is so it can once again control the people. The priests and the pastors have no mandate from the ballot box, but instead have chosen to seize power through going into the church. They want to control people, just as coca-cola wants to control you enough to buy coke. Religion is like any other business in capitalist America – it is designed to make money.

Only it is much more dangerous than the Disney or Microsoft corporations, as they just want your mmoney. The churches want your minds too.

For religion faces a problem in the form of science. Two centuries ago, the bible held unopposed authority – it offered an excellent explanation of how life came into being, where we were going and how we should act. This authority, I would argue, stemmed largely from the genesis story, but after Darwin that was called into doubt. More and more evidence is being found in support of evolution, from the remains of homo Neanderthalis to red shift, and this poses a major problems for religion as it shatters the bible’s authority and thus the church’s.

Marx famously called religion the opium of the people, and like any good drug dealer religion must find a way off keeping it’s clientele hooked. Thus, religious people in America brought about ‘Creationism’, a science set up to prove the story of genesis. This, needles to say, is logically flawed, as it’s stated objective is to come to a pre-set answer, and to discredit or ignore any data not pointing to that answer. True science is open-ended – a theory may be posited, tested, proven or superseded. Indeed, this weeks new scientist speculates that Einstein’s general relativity may have to be rewritten slightly to incorporate new findings like Dark Energy. True scientific theories are not, and must never be, set in stone. Thus to create a science with the sole intention of proving the claims of the bible is to distort the underlying logic of science.

Further, to present creationism as scientific is worryingly misleading. Such people are deliberately blinding others to proper, scientific thought in order to make money. Thousands, if not millions of dollars are made through Televangelism, I suspect. They need people to accept the biblical stories as fact, and do this by attacking established scientific theory. At a time when the world needs all the scientists it can get if it is to solve such problems as global climate change and energy shortage, these people are making such claims as

”[quote=”www.creationscience.comurl:http://www.creationscience.com/LifeSciences4.html”%5DSpontaneous generation (the emergence of life from nonliving matter) has never been observed. All observations have shown that life comes only from life. This has been observed so consistently it is called the law of biogenesis. The theory of evolution conflicts with this scientific law when claiming that life came from nonliving matter through natural processes.”[/quote].” http://www.creationscience.com/LifeSciences4.html

While some may say that it is wiser to let these people believe as they wish, I would maintain that, for them to try to force their way of thinking onto others, especially schoolchildren, is harmful. While all perspectives should be engaged with, I feel that to allow these people to continue to expound their ideas so vehemently is dangerous. All theories should be tested empirically, and the biblical model has been superseded, so it should be done away with, like theories linking ethnicity and intelligence. It is harmful to scientific thought, and the public in general in that it now serves only to line the priest’s pockets with money and power. No doubt, however, that they will continue to do as they are doing, trying desperately to blind congregations to an ever-increasing mountain of evidence, while simultaneously presenting themselves as the only valid authorities on the truth, just as McDonalds portray themselves as the only place to get good burgers.

If it wasn’t so sad and dangerous, it would be funny.

Two things got my goat today. I was at the freshers fair, helping out, going around the stalls talking. Most stalls were quite cool – inviting people to give blood, or join the poets society – but two stalls got my goat. Firstly, the army stall. They were their in their camouflage suits and berets, saying things like ‘are you brave enough to join’ and so on. They had a video f people in Iraq hugging soldiers, which was amusing because it was the army who helped bring about what is fast becoming a civil war there. I almost bought a poster in the sale in the wes with this famous Einstein quote.

‘He who joyfully marches to music rank and file, has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would surely suffice. This disgrace to civilization should be done away with at once. Heroism at command, how violently I hate all this, how despicable and ignoble war is; I would rather be torn to shreds than be a part of so base an action. It is my conviction that killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act of murder.’

Another stall which got my goat was one offering bible classes. I was brought up on rational argument, and I find nothing rational about people trying to convert others into their power structure, simply by using quotes from an ancient book. I tried talking to these people, but its like trying to win a fight with Bigfoot. Its pointless. How can they ignore all the evidence, claim it all points to a sudden creation event, then say they’re the rational ones? As a student of culture, I think I should look into this phenomenon.

Talking of which, I got my results from last year today. A 61 average, or a two-one. Not bad for a stupid spaz.

You have no idea how relieved I was to hear the intercom sound this morning. It meant everything was back to normal. I had worried that my home care – the ladies who put my shoes and socks on, and get me breakfast – weren’t coming due to the natural confusion caused by summer. But no, Julie came at 9 a.m. prompt, smiling. We have known each other for a year, but we met like old friends after along absence. It meant all was well, and the day would be good. If she hadn’t shown, Esther would have had to give me breakfast, wasting valuable time sorting things out for the new year.

Here’s where it went wrong. I had been promised that the intersite bus would be fully accessible, but I decided to verify this by rolling over to the bus stop, Esther in tow. We waited for 5 minutes, and the bus came. I then realised I had more chance of riding a woolly mammoth to Crewe – the bus was an ancient double decker with steps up to it and a bar in the middle of the entrance. I wasn’t happy.

Nor, for that matter, was Andy Grey. I went directly to the head of the Students Union, who seemed to take personal umbridge at what I told him. Although I explained that Bill could drive me over, he said, ”That’s not the point.” It seemed to grieve him personally, as if he’d just discovered some terrible scandal.

That, however, is my point. People – most people – do not realise the type of problems disabled people face, bringing about a type of discrimination through negligence. The promises of accessible transport hadn’t been acted upon, and it was only when I brought this matter to Andy’s attention that he went and sorted it.

I just got back into my little room at university. It’s good to be back. The place reeks, and I haventgot my posters up so it doesn’t feel quite like home yet, but its getting there. the day promisses to be a good one – noo academic work, just sorting stuff out, confirming my timetable etc. I pplanto catch up with dave to see if theres any preliminarry reading i can do, but thats about it. well, heres to a good second year.

I doubt I’ll cry tonight!

The following was sent to me in a circular email, and originally it was about getting old as a wwoman, but could just as well aapply to me:

‘

I feel like my body has gotten totally out of shape, so I got my doctor’s permission to join a fitness club and start exercising. I decided to take an aerobics class for seniors. I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for an hour. But, by the time I got my leotards on, the class was over. ‘ hehehe. now I think of it, this could suggest the incentive I need to do my physio…

this spoils my fun. how can we take the piss out of the aussies when they write such well balanced articles? aww! I expected them all to be brooding and sullen. no fair

this article concerns a new sculpture to go on a free plinth in Trafalgar square. Naturally, I hold this to be a good thing. theres some debate over whether it should be there, but I think it’s quite  beautiful, embracing both the themes of motherhood and diversity.

true beauty has very little to do with aesthetics.

I used to feel guilty about watching TV in the holidays. I always felt I should be doing something, like reading or writing. These palpitations of guilt were enough to send me scurrying to my books. Now, however, things are slightly different.

For one, I’m writing more than ever. This s both on my blog and elsewhere. I know my last few entries haven’t been too long, but its hard to find stuff to write about. This is especially applicable when I’m stuck at home, with only grandma for company. My grandma’s ok, but she isn’t the sort of person one can have an in-depth debate with, let’s say.

Also, I have a legitimate excuse to watch TV. I study it! Mind you, I do not watch trash television – daytime TV really is dire, as I have said before. I mean, ‘Trisha’ for godsakes! Who watches that? However, today, I was in luck. BBC2 showed ‘The Big Sky’ this morning. This is a 1953 classic western by Howard Hawkes.

Monochrome, of course. This puts it right at the end of the golden age of Hollywood, and right from the beginning, I knew I was in for a treat. There are some incredible vistas of the lands on and around the Missouri in the film, and hawkes employs some interesting camera techniques. At one point, he plays with the audience’s expectations – I was expecting a simple shot / reverse shot movement, but instead hawkes chooses to film from a completely new angle. This threw me slightly, and at first I found it confusing, as if it broke the 180 degree rule, but it is clear that Hawkes was experimenting with film grammar. Very few auters show such panache with the camera, perhaps preferring simply to ‘wow’ audiences with special effects. it should be noted, however, that the film was rather derogatory towards native Americans. While this was less so than films before it, it showed how far we still had to go in the fifties.

Thus, my free time at home hasn’t been totally wasted. I wonder if there’s anything on this afternoon.

In eighteen months I hope to watch sunrise over Ularu. I just watched England reclaim the ashes after 18 years. I was glued to the box all day, and there were moments when I thought this blog entry would be full of bile towards the aussies. They were going to win, and I hated them for it. Yet this would have been totally unwarranted. Win or loose, Australia remain one of the finest cricket sides ever. Moreover, by all accounts, this series has been played to the highest standards of conduct. It seems ‘beasting’ was a myth – the games seemed like it was played between good friends. shayne warne, I should add, is a demon!

I thus offer the deepest commiserations to my Australian friends. See you for the next Ashes series.

this is good news from the icb,, but the fact remains sky has rights to cover the ashes for the next four years. this makes me so angry. murdoch is a greedy git with no love of cricket. he is going to make us pay to watch the game I love, ruining cricket for the masses. this makes me soooo angry!

It’s been a tough few days. I only got back to blighty on Thursday, and I spent the last two days in London with family. I’m not sure why I’m so tired, as all I did was sit in the car. Perhaps it was the tension of the cricket.

Has anyone else been watching it? It’s like a five day penalty shoot-out. I cant watch. Fortunately, its raining, and is likely to be until tomorrow. At least we have a reprieve this evening from the tension. However, dad tells me that sky has the rights to thee ashes next year. Lets hope they’re taken from Murdoch’s grubby, stinking hands soon!

We got back to blighty this morning. apart from a fire alarm kerfuffle at manchester, the journey was ok. I hate flying from west to east – I always get terrible jet lag, so this post will be brief.

In a post coming shortly, I intend to deal with access issues in canada: although I found access and disability awareness generally dire, I found some evidence fthat canada was actually quite progressive in such matters, including a tv programme run by and for crips.

thhis will, however, necessitate research. I’m tired, so it’ll hace to wait. unpacking can’t.

Perhaps the best way one can see a city is to walk about it. Well, in my case that means sitting in my chair and rolling about it. But, one hasn’t seen the real city one goes to the residential areas; the back streets. Where the real people live and work. Not where capitalists interested in taking the tourists’ money, but where people buy there groceries or go to talk to friends. This morning, my brother and I took a walk into the backstreets of Montreal. It was quite a long walk – a good 8 kilometres I suppose (more like 15. Sitting in his chair, I don’t think Matt gets a proper idea of how far he travels – Ed). We wove our way down through the old town and out into the suburbs. It reminded me of Paris. It was rather quiet and there were very few people about, which isn’t disappointing – most people would have been at work. However, it’s worth mentioning that I saw a few more cripples this morning – not that I was on some kind of cripple hunt. We headed into the Latin Quarter how come every city has a Latin Quarter; the Romans got everywhere. Romano eunt domus, eh? We also stopped to watch a bit of filming on a what appears to be a film about photo booths. We watched the crew play about with a camera boom, rising up from a photo booth – which appeared to have been placed randomly in the middle of a square – to a shot of an old building for about 10 minutes, then gave up. We have no idea what was going on. We then headed for a large park in the middle of the “real” city, looking at sunbathers. From there we headed towards the river, past the Molson brewery. Perhaps brewery should be in inverted commas there because I haven’t been able to find a proper beer anywhere, that is to say, a beer with actual taste. Give me an Old Speckled Hen over a Budweiser any day! We then met up with the parents to eat lunch at a deli. It is worth noting that I wasn’t offered a menu – I hate it when people assume I’m illiterate. Anyway, at time of writing, the family is waiting to go out for tea – I better not keep them. I’m really looking forward to this final night in Canada. Oh yeah! Please forgive my editor he’s rather hairy and stupid looking (you’re fired, Matt! – Ed).

(Editor – Matt’s bro Luke, taking dictation)

Over the last few days I’ve been struck by a curiosity: there are no crips in Montréal. Well, very few anyway. During the course of a UK day, I usually see four or five fellow disabled people; but everyday here I am lucky to see one. At first, I thought this was a coincidence, but now I am becoming convinced there’s a good reason for it. In short, this city is a bugger to get out into if you’re disabled. It is absolutely abysmal. The pavements are split and cracked, making for a rough ride in the chair. There are steps [b]everywhere[/b] – up to most restaurants, shops, public conveniences, to the elevators into the underground city (of which there are exceedingly few) and so on. This is not to say everywhere is inaccessible – places like the Biodome and the Botanical Gardens are well adapted for wheelchair users, but the city [i]propre[/i] is dire. Moreover, upon arrival, I thought I saw more staring kids than in most other places; I put this down to pure paranoia initially but am now sure of it. It’s not just kids, too. It’s adults. Staring enough to make me want to poke their eyes out. They really should know better. Thus, I should warn my fellow cripples not to come here without two fairly fit (and strong) P.A.s – they will be needed if you want to go anywhere. I needed assistance to cope with the many flights of stairs and escalators: one person carrying me, one my wheelchair (plus a third to carry Matt’s bags – Ed). If one is entirely non-ambulant, it would simply be impossible. The city is rather stressful from that perspective. People walk straight in front of you as you roll along the pavement (though this is true of almost any major city – Ed). They do the pedestrian equivalent of cutting you up. I regret to say, this is one city I won’t soon come back to.

Nevertheless, it must be said the city is beautiful. We took a boat ride on the St Lawrence this morning. It was fascinating to discover a bit of the river’s history as it is a main artery into the Americas along with the Mississippi and the Amazon. It was a main supply route into Canada and the US. I would like to discover more of it, but this will have to wait: I have more of this region explore. I only hope the remainder is more accessible.

I really like the Biodome and the Botanical Gardens. It is often remarked that we British are a nation of gardeners and garden lovers. In this respect, I am very British as I find gardens peaceful. It probably wasn’t as big or as grand as Kew, but it was a very pleasant place to spend a few hours away from the hustle and bustle of the city. The cabby who took us there was a pretty cool guy, too. However, so far my favourite place has been the Olympic Tower (la Tour Montréal – the tallest leaning tower in the world – Ed). It has a very impressive view of the city and beyond (both from the top and in the funicular on the way up – Ed). It looks very futuristic, as if it was part of a star ship – even about thirty years after it was built. There are great places (and people – Ed) in any city – that is why I like to travel. But the fact remains that this place isn’t up to standard for disabled people and that is a great shame.

(Editors – Matt’s bro (taking dicatation) and mum (correcting grammar))

So… here we are in Canada. We left Grandma at home again and flew in yesterday. It’s strange how air travel can confuse the senses – one morning one can get up in England and the same day go to bed in Canada a quarter of the way around the Earth. It really is quite cool. There is something about travel that feeds me, even things like exploring hotel rooms and becoming acquainted with the TV remote I find exciting – not because I can watch TV but because of what they represent: a new place. A new perspective.

We spent today walking around the city – it’s quite picturesque but I found it derivative of any other city in North America, if a city can be derivative (when questioned about this, Matthew says it’s because it has tall buildings. I certainly don’t agree – Ed). However, there are also things that make it unique – there’s a vast underground city, which is like a subterranean shopping mall. This has access points all over the city centre giving the city a thoroughly three-dimensional feel (I can’t believe he just said this – Ed). It must be said that there are, however, very few lifts. And what lifts there are a usually full of ambulant Americans too lazy to use the escalators. I found myself getting rather shirty and un-British at one point. One of the good things about having a speech impediment is that no-one can understand when I curse at them. Of course this isn’t applicable when I use the lightwriter. I know I shouldn’t do this – it probably sets back the cause for disabled rights – but it’s hard to resist. Anyway, overall I’m having a great time and looking forward to the days ahead.

I should also mention my brother Mark, who is only just starting to realise that others are just as aware of his intelligence as we are thanks to an email he received. Good one, bro!

I would also like to point out a correction to the last post – naked women do not appear on ceilings. Although I sometimes wish they did – that would be fun! (Editor: Matt’s bro Luke, taking dictation)

I thought you guys might like to see a picture taken at lilleshall, as an example of what we got up to

[img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/2005 07 bar1.JPG[/img]

I must have spotted a naked girl on the cieling…maybe

Yesterday, I went to see my mates Rich and Michelle from hebden. It was great to see them again,, although I must have surprised them greatly, appearing, as it were, from out of the blue.

Anyway, while surfing the net, I stumbled across this article about Saturn’s moon Enceladus this morning. Apparently, its polar regions appear hotter than it’s equator. How odd.

” High-resolution imagery shows the southern polar region to be relatively smooth – usually a good indicator of recent activity – but cut by a number of long, dominant cracks.”

‘ere, does this mean it has a hot arse?

Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more, or seal up the wall with English dead.

If we lose the next test match, I’m officially beginning the campaign to bring Australia back under rule from London, just as we did with the United states.

who’s with me?