Quite why I’m obsessed with David Attenborough I’m not sure. I think his programmes are comforting, as well as exceptionally beautiful. The interlocking web of the natural world never ceases to amaze me. I am thus very excited to read of this: although I can only find a few press releases, and details are sketchy, if life in the undergrowth is anything to go by, it will be marvellous.

However, programmes like this are surely TV’s attempts to apologise for big brother. How anyone watches that crap I do not know. For Christ’s sake – there are so many beautiful things on the world upon which one can focus a camera, and all most people want to watch is a few z-list celebrities in a room. Why do we watch this worthless pap – it is not artistic, nor does it contribute to the public knowledge. I mean, the first series was an experiment, so it was OK, but now, after five series, it’s simply trash: an attempt by some ‘celebrities’ to restart their washed-up careers. And this attracts million’s of viewers! This is a sqandering of the potential of television

Sod it. I’m off to read a book.

As a disabled person, I am slightly concerned about all the hubbub over ‘benefit fraud’. Listening to radio five earlier, I got the strong impression that people thought that most of us who claim DLA are slackers. Putting aside my own tendency to slob in front of the television of an afternoon, may I tale this opportunity to refute that allegation. We are, for the most part, very industrious: two CP-ers I know run their own companies, one writes for disability now, and one woman with mobility problems is a professional musician.

This is not to say that we do not need the DLA. It is of great help. However, it is very hard to live off the DLA, and I daresay none of us would choose to live off it. I get agitated when I hear of able-bodied people claiming falsely too – the money that costs is enough to fund something like 9000 nurses – and the people who do so should be brought to justice. In part, such behaviour gives rise to anti-disabled feeling: we are tarred with the same brush as the benefit cheats, and accused of not pulling our weights. In extreme cases, people have suggested we walk funny and drool on purpose. Thus, benefit fraud should be stopped, and a part of me favours jailing the culprits. It hurts all of us, both economically and socially.

further reading

I am alarmed how similar the two main political parties are appearing these days. I was just watching the lunchtime news, which ran a story about how labour plans to reform incapacity benefit. They plan to reduce it drastically, to try to get people into work.

Is my memory failing me, or was labour a left-wing party once? This sounds very conservative to me. Reminiscent, slightly, of Thatcherism, with that make-the-lazybuggers-work mentality. Now, I’m not saying I want to live off the dole – I intend to get a job one day – but what new labour fails to realise is that some of us crips will find this hard, especially given the standard of education we receive in special schools. With labour lurching to the right, the door is open for ccameron, and we all know what that means!

link

Things kind of suck around here. My brothers went back to their respective universities this afternoon, uncle aki et al went home on Wednesday, and we will take Chris to London tomorrow.. thus I have the downtrodden feeling that everything is over – no more parties, no more brothers, no more cards.

Well, at least I have my room to myself again. I love Luke, but I like my privacy. When out Christmas shopping, I instructed bill to get a pear of black tights for my grandmother; these, I later realised, turned out to be fishnets, and so not appropriate as a gift. I had to get my grandmother another gift, leaving me with the fishnets.

Because Luke was here, I haven’t had chance to try them on…until now.

They fit.

Esther, possibly my closest friend, wrote this. It comes, in part, from a mutual love of james bond, and my overriding desire to assassinate the campus pet. That cat is evil, I tell thee! Nice one esther!

I saw with some considerable interest yesterday how the Tories have chosen to consult Geldof on their policies concerning debt relief. While I am totally behind geldof’s campaign, this made me very scared and angry. I should welcome this move, but something tells me not to be so optimistic.

For one thing, what tells us that the conservatives are really behind debt cancellation? They are a party of business, and it is in the capitalist’s best interest not to cancel this debt, but to keep Africa poor. Thus this is, I think a mere ploy by David Cameron: he wants his party to appear nice, friendly and delectable.

What scares me is he’s succeeding. His party is gaining fast in the opinion polls: he is approachable and jovial, and the British public is fed up with Blair. To recruit Geldof will surely make this effect even stronger. And this is dangerous.

I seem to have become politically idiotic these days. I have become focussed on a single issue, and seem to have become blinded to most others. I know this is foolish, but I care very strongly about inclusive education. To focus so strongly on a single issue is naive, and especially one so remote from the mainstream (forgive the pun). Yet the fact remains Cameron is on record saying, if elected, he proposes a moratorium on the closure of special schools, and intends tot build more. Sorry if I seem monochrome here, but this must not happen. Simply must not!

This is why I got so scared. Elect the Tories, and the thing I care most passionately for dies.

My relationship to clothes is rather odd. Usually I hanker after girl’s clothes, but recently I have been hinking about getting a suit. A good suit. Something cool and very male for contrast. Something one can order a martini in.

Well, today me, mum and Chris went shopping, ad that’s exactly what we got. A black suit, white shirt and bow tie. Mum is going to elasticise the trousers so I don’t have to bother with the fly, and the shirt has poppers. I had to try it on. It fits almost perfectly, so next I want a walther PPK.

Well, I’ll settle for a martini.

Possibly the best indicator of the quality of ones Christmas is the state of ones room on boxing day. If one has had a good Christmas, with a large haul of gifts, one’s bedroom should be a mess. This is because one dumps the pile into one’s room after the unwrapping has ceased, then goes back downstairs to rejoin the family. The presents wait till the new year to be allotted places, so for a while one’s route to bed is fraught with pitfalls and booby traps.

At the moment, this place looks like a bomb has hit it. Of course, this is not helped by the fact that Luke, my little brother, is staying on my top bunk, so there are clothes and wrapping paper strewn over my floor. I am not complaining, but for a person with mobility and balance problems, it can be a challenge, especially last thing at night with a beer or two in my belly.

In short, however, this Christmas is shaping up to be one of the coolest. Of course, I miss my older brother, but it is only fair that he went to Kat’s parents this year. The place is packed anyway, and one can barely move without bumping into a relative.

As predicted, the conversation has been rather academic at times. This morning, Christina was describing that she might find new species of fish in the Amazon; yesterday, Luke and Cyril were discussing the Turing test. We should probably get out more, but my family still amazes me.

Right now, most of them are out walking. The house is quiet, giving me a chance to write. I haven’t been all that involved really – I just watch and listen. It takes ages for me to say anything, and I hate slowing everything down. I know I shouldn’t. when everyone is waiting for me to say something, I just get tense, making it ten times harder. Oddly, this happens more with the in-laws than with a lecture theatre full of students. Odd, no?

Anyway, everybody will be back soon, and the place will once again be thronging. This afternoon, we have games planned, which, with my uncle Aki being the incessant cheat that he is, despite my cousin Chris’s attempts to keep him in line, will almost certainly be a good laugh. Watching my family is better than any Christmas TV show any day of the year.

Things, I suspect, are going to get interesting around here. In more ways than one too. Come this evening, we’ll have eleven or twelve people around the place – the most people at home I can recall – and mum has already started to cook. In fact poor mum seems already slightly perturbed, and even at this early hour I smell onions frying.

As the crip of the family, and having no household chores, I take the role of flaneur at such times. That is, ii merely observe things as they unfold, then write about them. The forthcoming few days should supply me with enough material for the next three terms of writing class (not that I plan to divulge any family secrets, of course).

I love it when we have family round – there is rarely a dull moment. I come from a family of scientists, so dinner table conversation sometimes gets odd. Already this morning over breakfast Luke and dad were discussing interesting graphs. Being a crip-ranch educated arts-student, most of the time I do not have the foggiest idea what they are talking about, but it astounds me to hear everyone talk. Either it’s about whether zero is a number, or stuff about programming, or stuff about medicine. Of course, they all have their specialisms – Dad, electronics; mum, medicine; Luke biology and computing; uncle aki, philosophy of mathematics, Aunty Dinah, philosophy; my cousin Cyril, biology and computing… and so on. The result is an eclectic mix of technical gibberish and banter.

The above would imply that I am the dunce of the lot, which is not true. There is no dunce. I suspect I will have to explain the concept of flaneurie to them when this is posted. Just as I am proud of them, they are proud of me, and that’s how it should be. Hence there is already a feeling of warmth throughout this old place, and there is nowhere else I would rather be – nowhere else on earth.

Thus, tomorrow, I’ll be looking over a table of twelve, chomping sprouts and turkey, listening to the conversation, and remarking how lucky I am. It’s what Christmas is for.

A merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

The following just begged to be recorded for pposteritty.

1.a carol:

Deck the hall with boughs of holly,

Fa la la la la la, la la la la.

Tis the season to by jolly,

Fa la la la la la, la la la la.

Don we now our gay apparel,

Fa la la, la la la, la la la. Then we get a civil partnership

Fa la la la la la, la la la la.

2. a new word

Sudblx – that which matt speaks when talking of films. Psuedy bollocks without vowels 3.another new word

Smoergleburble – that language luke speaks when telling dad how to do stuff on the computer.

Well, they made me laugh.

in case anyones interested, here’s the outcome of the dover trial. itss a relief that logic and sense won the day. Must admit, I had no faith (forgive the pun) that the judge would rule in favour of science. there were quite a few kooky idea going around that courtroom. something tells me these religious fools won’t shut up though.

thanks for the link luke

I just read tom Shakespeare’s most recent article on ouch, and I would encourage you to do the same. It is a short essay on disability issues in the bible, and I was interested to note that Hebrews 12.13 says ‘Make a level path for your feet, so that the lame may not be disabled’, one of the earliest descriptions of the social model.

The problem professor Shakespeare and most disabled people have with Christ is that he went about his business in the wrong way. There is a supposition in the bible that disabled people want to be ‘cured’; most of us do not, for without our disabilities we no longer can be us. My cp is part of me, part of what makes matt matt. I think I would be quite lost without it. When I was very little, I asked dad if I could have a brain transplant in order to move properly; my father wisely replied that, were I to have such an operation, I would not be Matthew anymore but someone else inside my body. Although literally true, this can also be seen as allegorical cure my disability, and you eradicate matt.

Thus, in a way, Jesus did these lepers and blind people a disservice, robbing them of their individuality (and, in one case, their livelihood). As Shakespeare argues, it would be far simpler to fit ramps everywhere, and make VOCAs easier to obtain, rather than curing a select few. Then everyone benefits, not just a handful of people fortunate enough to meet Christ.

I just found this blog entry on intelligent design / evolution by Scott Adams, creator of Dilbert. I must say it is fairly well balanced: in fact, it is one of the most wellrounded articles I have read on the subject, which I think can be very polarising. Also, Scott Adams is one of my dad’s favourite cartoonists, so it’s worth a peek just for the satire.

How on earth I got his name wrong I do not know. The guy to whom I referred to in last Fridays entry is Michael leach, not llang. I suppose I assumed that he would have the same name as his wife. Anyway, here is a link to his fascinating site, full of some of the most extraordinary wildlife photography I have seen.

I just read this re-reading of a christmas carol on ouch. I must admit, tiny tim has always grated a little – I hate how the cute disabled person is used as a dramatic tool again and again. tiny tim, polyanna, etc. they’re all so cringeworthy and unrealistic portrayals of disabled people.

Hurrah, my blogs back. Praise be to Luke – greatest webmaster of all.

Anyway, normality having been restored and the evil forbidden sign being gone, let me tell you of my experience yesterday. As noted in the previous post, I intend to go to the ballet; I’m very thirsty for all types of art now I have been to the opera (something which I once saw as bourgeois and inaccessible) and thoroughly enjoyed it. Here at MMU, they do courses in dance,, one of which was staged yesterday. Needless to say I went, paid my £1.50 at the door and took a seat.

What I saw, it must be said, was odd. La Rondine was in Italian but thanks to the surtitles was still understandable. What these dancers were doing seemed random. There were about ten pieces, some set to music, some with music but the movement taking no heed of it, and some in silence. He final piece actually took place on the seating, with the audience having to sit on thee stage. It was all quite odd.

So far, I may be appearing to be a luddite, which isn’t my intention. I love how my university experiments in terms of art. Last week, I went to a very disconcerting piece of theatre where the audience were shepherded around, and were supposed to be inhabitants of an asylum. That too made little sense, but does it matter?

No, I think not. What matters is that they’re stretching artistic boundaries: experimenting. I find it exciting, and cant wait to see what’s going to come next.

At the time of writing, my website is down: it currently says access ibis forbidden in big letters. I fear this may have caused some of you to conclude that I blocked you from my website. I assure you that A. this would go against every one of my beliefs apropos the freedom of information and speech, and B. I wouldn’t know how to block anyone, even if I wanted to. Rather, I suspect certain people have neglected to transfer certain monies to certain Web Space companies. [update – it was a nasty little virus that did it. Prase be to Luke for fixing it.]

Anyway, last night I went again to the opera. This was part of my ongoing ambition to experience as much culture as possible: I want to see as many art forms as possible, just as I would like to eat as many different types of food as possible and go to as many countries as possible. As john Donne once wrote ‘to live in one contrie is captivitie’; I have merely taken this slightly further. I want to remain open minded, never dismissing anything until I have experienced it.

The opera strikes me as a rather exotic, very cool art form. It is rather strange in that it’s communication system bears very little resemblance to the normal forms of communication. Baring dad’s tuneful, but often obscene, outbursts of tuneful displeasure, we do not often sing to communicate. Yet, as any philologist will tell you, language is beautifully tuneful, so the opera can be seen as a mere extension of a certain aspect of language. And how beautiful this extension is: a phrase, when spoken, may be beautiful, but a phrase, when sang, can be exquisite.

Last night’s performance of Puccini’s La Rondine at the Royal Northern College of music was indeed exquisite. The first thing to note is the sheer power of the performers on stage: they are all around my age, but they have vocal power enough to fill a huge auditorium without electronic assistance. Even though one knows these people are, for all intents and purposes, professional singers, I am still amazed by their sheer talent. But then, this is the RNCM – should I expect anything less? The sets were lavish, the acting faultless.

Now, in classicism it is often necessary to separate style and content. The content of Puccini’s opera is not the best. It is ostensibly the story of a kept woman falling temporarily in love with a young student, running off with him, and when his money is gone, returning to her sugar daddy in Paris. It is thus very cynical, which is why it was slated by critics upon it’s debut. Nevertheless, the denouement when Magda reveals she cannot marry Ruggero (”Let the grief be mine”) is quite simply astonishing in it’s beauty. It was quite, quite moving and it was impossible not to feel spellbound.

thus the style outweighed, I felt,, the content. I have a huge respect for RNCM: the whole evening was enjoyable, and the college is very professional. Even the interval wine wasn’t bad, although it was a little expensive. I intend to go to more, but not for some time – there are other art forms I want to experience. Next, I think, is dance.

Nevertheless, ii shall end with a quote, not from the opera, but a play: ‘If music be the food of love, play on.” [naff ending – ed]

I was handing a piece of finished work in at the writing room yesterday for my scripts tutor, dr. mariel land. I think she had an appointment to make, so her husband was there. I like mariel – as well as being a good teacher, she’s a pretty cool person. For one, she was giving away chocolate.

I got talking to mr lland – mariel introduced us. He was quite an interesting fellow, it turns out – an anthropologist. I asked if he was a scientist.

‘I’m a cameraman for the bbc’ he said. It turns out that this guy is actually a good acquaintance of sir David Attenborough. I went into squeal mode upon hearing this! Sir David is one of my all time heroes. Mr lland had been all around the world, to places like Borneo, the Amazon etc, taking the most wonderful photographs. He told me how his anthropology work has lead him to meet peoples who have only just made contact with western society. What an adventure that must be.

The mystery is I cant find his website: he showed it to me during our conversation, and I think I’d like to check it out. He said we could keep in contact, and I’d love to. However, I can’t find his site anywhere, despite several hours on google. The internet can be so frustrating sometimes!

Since I last blogged, quite an important fact has been brought to my attention. Two facts, in actuality, and they both concern the new leader of the opposition. The first is that David Cameron has a son with cerebral palsy (cp). This alone does not worry me in the slightest: I initially thought this would mean Cameron was more in touch with the needs of people with disabilities, which is a good thing, especially for a Tory.

I was wrong, for the second fact I learned about Cameron is he is against inclusive education. This struck alarm bells in my head – given that this guy could well be prime minister in four years’ time, it would spell disaster for the inclusive education scheme. It might put us back to the days of segregation, and a second rate education for disabled kids.

You can’t blame him, of course. You can’t blame any parent in such a position, who wants to send their disabled child to a special school. Any child is precious to a parent, so there is, quite naturally, a tendency to want to wrap disabled kids in cotton wool and send us off to the warm, sheltered environs of special schools. My concern is, however, that this would be almost disastrous for the child in the long term: when he or she reaches eighteen or nineteen, he or she will be so poorly equipped for the real world, so used to the homely atmosphere of school life, that he or she will be quite unprepared for the often chaotic maelstrom that is modernity. If they are lucky, students will have four or five low grade GCSEs to their name. not many get a-levels, and I have not heard of any student going straight from a special school to university. Furthermore, nondisabled kids would benefit in that increased interaction with disabled kids will break down prejudices and misconceptions. You would be surprised how many people around uni still have no idea how to act around me.

Yet to a parent of a disabled child, inclusion represents a threat. Of course, there are exceptions – and I can point you to at least two who post on my comments – but many parents do not seem to think their child could cope in mainstream school. Thus, when they finally escape the linoleum carpet and the signs in Makaton, their kids hit the real world with a bump. This means, in my experience, that many are unable to enter higher education and get jobs. If, on the other hand, they are educated alongside their able-bodied peers, both socially and educationally they would be on a par with everyone else (providing, of course, they get the right support in mainstream).

Cameron therefore represents a threat in my eyes. He wants what is best for his son, and others like him. However, we have very different opinions on what is best for disabled kids. Having a parent with a disabled kid as opposition leader or PM might be beneficial, but if he acts on his views, it might also be catastrophic. As Justin R said, politics just got interesting again,

So, David Cameron is the new Tory leader. Unlike the past four, this is a leader I would vote for. He seems well rounded, and not too insane or right-wing. Yes, he is a eurosceptic and I’m pro-Europe, but at the moment he’s presenting a reasonable alternative to Blair, who, frankly, seems to be dying. I reckon the Tories have a good chance of winning the next election. – I never thought I’d say that!

link

Ever been to a place where you want to help, but aren’t too sure how? I felt kind of like that in Blackpool this weekend. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed myself thoroughly, but there were times when I did not know what to do. I was there to be a ‘role model’ for kids, but, unlike Lilleshall, the young people at this event were preteens, so I wasn’t quite sure how to engage with them. I found myself talking more to the parents rather than the kids.

I knew I was doing it. Kate challenged me to ask an open question to all the kids there, which ii attempted to do, but the parents were often answering for them. The problem was, the children were at a very early stage of communicative development, so I suspect it was nigh on impossible for the parents to resist the urge to do the talking. This, combined with the fact that the parents were as inquisitive about me as I was nosey about them meant that the kids had very little chance to join the conversation. Having said this hopefully when the kids see their parents talk to me so deeply, they will see that they too can achieve what I have. They will see that, just because you may use a communication aid doesn’t mean you can’t have fairly in-depth conversations. I think this, to a certain extent, is the whole point of the role-model project.

However, I daresay most kids there hardly needed encouraging. Like most children their age, they had much to say, and given half the chance, say it they would. All it needs is a little patience and these kids can chat for England, or will be able to do so soon, given patience and the right help.

Thus, although I have reservations about how much I helped, it was undeniably a great weekend. The kids were super. If they invite me, I’ll definitely be going again.

Just blogging to say that the one voice blackpool event seemed to be a total success. It was knackering, but it was also great fun. Once again, I hope the kids we were being role models for got as much from it as I did. I’ll report more soon, but a huge congratulations go out to tamsin, thee two katies, and everyone involved.

the snow has cleared, the temperature has risen, and I’m nearly all ready to set off for blackpool. I should have a cool weekend. anyway, there’s not much time to blog, so allow me to direct you here, to a page which points out the alarming stupidity of the ‘theory’ of intelligent design, as sent to me by Luke.

Its odd how very wrong one can be about a person if one only judges them by first impressions. I have a friend, called Marcie: she always struck me as a tomboy, overbearing, loud, and patronising towards me. I did not like her very much, and hated to see her coming. I had her down as the type of girl who automatically assumes I am her friend just because I am a crip.

then, one day, we got chatting over a coffee in the wes. A few of my friends were there, and we were just talking about this and that. In Marcie the patronising tone vanished, or rather I no longer detected it. I realised I’d misjudged her, and a nicer girl you will never meet. She’s cool.

Tonight I’m going round to Steve’s again. He has to watch Titus Andronicus for his course, and Marcie will be there. I’m looking forward to this evening very much.

Oh brilopads! I think it’s starting to snow – the first snows of winter, and its still officially autumn. It’s either global warming or the next ice age! Plus, the sky is falling!

Its really starting to fall now. Usually I do not mind, but later I’ll be going out in it, and I would far rather stay hunkered down in my room, by the radiator. I hope this clears up by the weekend.

Saturday sees the 1voice Blackpool event. Some of you may recall I went to a similar one this summer in Lilleshall. I found it life-affirming – there is nothing, I feel, more worthwhile than helping kids: nothing more fundamentally important than hearing them talk. A life without the ability to communicate is bleak – you have all choices made for you, and therefore your dreams remain unfulfilled. Its not as if these kids are unable to express themselves, they just need to be shown what is possible.

Come snow, or come sleet, or come glaciers, I will be in Blackpool by Friday night. This project means a lot to me. I am in a position where I can help these children, and it is thus my duty to do so.

I have never seen bbc news this cynical before. In this article, it is being openly sarcastic about our progress on climate change. It’s amusing, ad although I have to agree with its conclusions, is it not being a teeny bit biased?

A few days ago, I mentioned how I found beauty in ‘nature – both it’s aesthetic beauty, and the beauty in it’s interlocking web.’ I may not have made myself clear. I meant I love the way every living organism is related to everything else. However, today I found this site, which illustrates the point perfectly. Although, naturally incomplete, it shows the relationships between every life form on earth. Its thoroughly researched, very impressive, and quite quite fascinating.

Although the ‘making of’ segment tagged onto the end of the programme seemed in some respects like an advert for the next programme, I found tonight’s life in the undergrowth totally fascinating. This term, my good friends Chris and Steve have regularly invited me round to their place to watch and talk about films; it’s great sitting, chatting with friends and sipping larger. I go round to theirs one night a week, and we watch films from their collection.

As luck would have it, they’re also Attenborough fans (well, Steve is). I had began the conversation ‘I know it’s geeky, but…’ but they were more than happy to watch BBC1 at 9. in fact Steve seemed more keen than me! So at 9 this evening, after our film had finished – the meaning of life, by the way – we turned their TV over, and we were in for a treat. In some respects, it was typical Attenborough fare, showing the mating techniques of a variety of insects, but the shooting was phenomenally beautiful. At one point you saw animals no bigger than a pinhead; at another, a tiny fly in flight. While the subject matter is fascinating, I was amazed by the technical aspects of the film. As a potential filmmaker, I found it inspiring. There are similarities, in terms of shot, between such nature films and, say, the matrix.

Great lads they are, they have invited me round the same time next week. I gratefully accepted: one should never miss the chance too see images that beautiful, and technically impressive. I cant wait for the DVD to come out!

There is something about college that makes me want to work. Tonight, for the hell of it, I decided to see if I could A. finish off a 2000 word essay, which needed 900 words, and b. write a 1500 word short story. Working solidly and merrily from 6pm, I did both, after selecting tunes by holst, rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky to listen to. I’d never do such a thing at home, but here, in the midst of academia, I feel more like it. Strange eh?

Although the thought of an exploding dog kind of amuses me in a maniacle, infantile way, I thought I might submit this evidence that disabled people are bearing most of thee brunt of toughened security laws in america. It cant be right that disabled people might be abandoned in subway stations in an emergency.

I’ll begin this review by explaining a term used frequently in film studies as a starting point for much of the Freudian analysis we do. Scoppophilia refers to a love of looking. The word derives from greek. Most of us are scoppophiles – we love looking, observing, and today my scoppophillic tendencies were in overdrive. Inn short, the new harry potter film is a visual joy, from the very first frame.

The first thing to note is that it is dark: this is most certainly not a kid’s film. The very mise-en-scene is almost oppressive, inasmuch as the camera seldom strays from the characters. As with Prisoner of Azkaban, Hogwarts itself is frequently shot in the rain for establishing shots. This is reflected in the characters, who are more fleshy, more ‘real’ – as in the book, goblet shows them bickering and fighting, as kids of their age are wont to do.

There was one shot in particular which struck me as especially fine. After a scene in which Longbottom’s past is alluded to, the class pass a stained glass window, on which the rain is beating from thee outside. The picture upon it is that f lady – this might be the Madonna – and she appears to cry, a particularly large drop of water descending from her face. This, needless to say, reflects the emotional intensity of the last scene, highlighting the poignancy of Neville’s situation.

Indeed, the theme of parenthood is a major source of emotion in this film, if not the whole series. Harry is, after all, an orphan. It is a subtle, but ever-present, thread. The absence or presence of Lilly and James can always be counted upon to have an emotional impact. Thus, when they appear in the denouement, the audience is elated.

This is not to say that this is a feel-good movie. This film has some very raw emotion. The sight of mr. diggory crying over his son is especially potent, as is the sheer horror in Harry after he returns from the graveyard. Thus I found this film extremely emotionally draining, mum continually having to tell me to stop squealing. There were also points, I must admit, when I felt myself welling up.

Both the shooting and acting were very impressive indeed. Daniel Radcliff, I felt, gave a fine performance (he has been criticised by some for being too melodramatic). He, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint seem to be growing up as actors just as the characters they portray are becoming adults. They portray the tension of their situation well. Michael gambon’s Dumbledore was more impressive than Azkaban.

This is not to say this film is not flawed. It is, inasmuch as it leaves out most of the detail within the book. For example, the audience have very little inkling that moody is a traitor until suddenly it is revealed to us. I suspect that it would have made little sense had I not read, and loved, the book/ however, as I have done so, I can forgive Mike Newell his little inconsistencies and enjoy the film for what it is – visually spectacular.

One last note: this is in no way a kids film. It is truly scary and highly emotive. It seems scroogesque, but it got my goat how many kids were there. It may be about children, but this is no fairy-tale. Parents shouldn’t take their five year old and expect him not to be upset.

Zark knows why, but I find this site funny. Its anti-disabled people, but in a humorous way. Its in very poor taste, yet I had to laugh. It states that ‘mongs should be supported in the community, helped to get nice jobs in supermarkets, and some of us even want to go to college. If it was written by a disabled person, it would be ironic, but it wasn’t, which gives a slight bitter taste to it. Nevertheless, as stated here, nothing should be out of bounds, and everything should be game for humour.

i must go now to my balloon holding class.

I was just reading of how sir David Attenborough has been speaking about climate change. I must admit, it is one of my major concerns: report after report shows that our use of fossil fuels and greenhouse gasses is effecting the climate. Of course, there’s a null hypothesis that this change correlates with a natural earth cycle, and there is evidence to support this, but can we run the risk of being wrong? Thus, as sir David says, we must act soon.

I would like to say I like nature, but what I like is watching it on TV and reading about it in books and online. Our world is absolutely beautiful, and one just needs to watch sunset n the football pitch to see that, but on television it’s simply breathtaking. Take, for example, the bait balls of ”blue Planet” or the shots f kangaroos at sunset in ”life of mammals”. The cinematography and shooting of these films has to be seen to be believed. This is why I like Attenborough programmes so much they are stylistically astonishing. Not to mention, sir David himself is a master storyteller. He opened my eyes to the beauty of nature – both it’s aesthetic beauty, and the beauty in it’s interlocking web. I look at birds and imagine dinosaurs.

I’m looking forward to his forthcoming series, ‘Life in the undergrowth’‘. It goes to air when I’m at college, so I’m hoping for the DVD for Christmas, hint hint.

Ok, no more advertising for the bbc – ed.

Last night I was out and about (ok, I was coming home from the pub); it was a crystal clear night, and the stars were out. looking due east, about 45 degrees from the horizon, I saw a point of light. It was bright – too bright to be a star, I reckon. I think it was a planet, but the question is, which?

The closest to earth are venus and mars, so it was one of these two. Using my weird form of logic, I think it was the latter: the sun had just set in the west, and I was looking east. Thus I was looking towards the outer solar system, so I must have been looking at mars. Of course, this is probably totally wrong – maybe it was just a bit of dirt on my glasses – but nothing quite so captures the human imagination than the thought of glimpsing another world.

yesterday I received the following. It made me smile, and I’m still smiling this morning.

[quote=”Michael Palinurl:www.palinstravels.co.uk”]Feet Beginning To Itch Again. A new message from Michael.

Rumours are already out concerning a new travel series. Although we’re in only preparatory stages of early preparation which, if successful, could lead to full-time preparations for the preparation of a series, I’d hate to think you have to rely on the Daily Express for news of my travel plans, so here goes.

The BBC are very keen to do another series. The crew, though ageing rapidly (some of them are almost as old as me) are very keen to do another series, and my only reservation was the that the success of Himalaya made it a hard act to follow, and there’s no point doing another series unless your heart is really in it. Whatever they say, it’s mind first and body second on these big projects.

We’ve come up with the possible – and I repeat possible as no definite decisions have been taken yet – idea of a journey through the New Europe. Those countries to the east that are part of our continent and yet about which we know very little. If our early researches prove fruitful we’d aim to set off on the road again sometime next year and to produce a book and a series for the Autumn of 2007. Watch this space !

Recently I had plans to travel with Basil Pao to China and Tibet, purely as a holiday and to accompany Bas who is taking photographs in preparation for his upcoming book on China. Those who might have read the account of my trip in the Times travel section on October 15th will know that some bronchial curse laid me low before leaving. I did get to see the Great Wall for the first time, and the Forbidden City and the grasslands of Manchuria – oh and the giant pandas at Chengdu but was prevented from revisiting the magnificent Tibetan plateau on the orders of a Beijing doctor. Tibet, dusty and 4,500 metres above sea level, is probably the worst place in the world to recover from a persistent cough. A bit like going to Barbados to recover from sunburn.

So I returned home and, apart from a great 4-day visit to user-friendly Barcelona, I’ve remained happily home-bound, editing the first volume of my diaries for publication next autumn. With luck I shall be in the middle of a Slovakian forest when they’re published, and out of range of any lawsuits !

One final thing. The problems of those affected by the Pakistan earthquake are actually increasing as winter makes movement from the remote mountain areas almost impossible. Help is still needed and yet the response has been far less than that for the tsunami. These are great, tough people who would not ask for charity, but many of whom will die without it. So, if like me, you feel a bond between yourself and the people of the Pakistan Himalaya, give now and, if you’ve already given, give again.

[/quote]

It’s getting ridiculous! Would you believe I just spent £1.50 on a cheeseburger. A mangy cheeseburger at that, devoid of relish, lettuce or ketchup. Here at MMU students eat at the canteen using pre-paid ‘meal cards’, upon which they get around £30 a week. However, this figure hasn’t gone up, but the prices have, meaning we all eat less. Now, food in the wes isn’t bad: I grew up with mum’s food, so I know what good food should taste like. Wes food isn’t the best, but nor is it the dire pulp we were dished up at hebden green. Having said that, it’s not worth the prices they are currently charging. I am therefore not a happy cripple, nor is most of the student body (although they aren’t cripples). The pizzeria around the corner is probably profiting from this though.

along with a dangerous experiment involving chair spinning, I was sent the following by mum, who incidently sined herself off as M, furthering my suspicion that dad’s a double-o agent.

”

A Russian couple was walking down the street in Moscow one night, when the man felt a drop hit his nose. “I think it’s raining”, he said to his wife. “No, that felt more like snow to me”, she replied. “No, I’m sure it was just rain, he said”. Well, as these things go, they were about to have a major argument about whether it was raining or snowing. Just then they saw a minor communist party official walking toward them. “Let’s not fight about it”, the man said, “Let’s ask Comrade Rudolph whether it’s officially raining or snowing”. As the official approached, the man said, “Tell us, Comrade Rudolph, is it officially raining or snowing?”. “It’s raining, of course”, he replied, and walked on. But the woman insisted: “I know that felt like snow!”, to which the man quietly replied: ”Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear”!

I just tried the ouch disability sex thing, to be found here. This is what it said about me.

[quote=”ouch”]You have some clue and are approaching the whole shagging game with enthusiasm, but you need to increase your sexual knowledge as well as your confidence in your shagability. Try reading the Kama Sutra, soak up the essence of it and don’t get too hung up about the fact that you might end up in hospital if you attempt some of the sexual positions depicted.[/quote] ha! chance would be a fine thing!

Its been a long day. It was going well until four, when my last seminar finished. I have my lessons in Crewe on Monday, and get a taxi to Crewe in the morning and the mmu bus back to alsager. However, the public transport busses are currently on strike, so the university busses have their work cut out ferrying students between campuses. And guess who was forgotten in this hubbub?

We – that is, myself and Esther – must have waited half an hour in the cold. I was starting to shiver, so we went back to the canteen, where est said I should have a warm drink. We waited until five, when we ‘phoned Bill. Quite what I would have done without bill tonight I do not know: he was there in twenty minutes, saying that he’d asked the kitchen to save me some dinner and was lamb Rogan josh ok? It was, and by six I was tucking into it with a huge slab of crusty, fresh, delicious bread. I could really hug bill – never was I so pleased to see his jeep!