Just to throw something a little more optimistic and upbeat into the mix (that, and I don’t feel like writing much today) I’d like to direct you to Russel Brand’s video on the election results here. He makes quite a few very good points about Corbyn being a good man, yet being an anathema to those currently in power and in control of the press. As I said a couple of days ago, he is that rarest of things: a politician who cares about people. Brand says that, while he may have lost the election, Corbyn may have started something huge – a groundswell of change which may, in the end, prove phenomenal. I think he may be right. May’s days are numbered, with many giving her six months more at number ten tops. By then, the tide will certainly have started to turn; people will see clearly the folly and greed of the tories, and will want something more caring, open and honest.

Rather than stand aside, admit she lost and let the opposition try to form a coalition, it seems that Teresa may has got into bed with the DUP, one of the most reprehensible, backwards looking parties in British politics. As a man who defines himself as bisexual, I am appalled that the DUP be allowed anywhere near government. May obviously believes that only she and the tories are fit to rule, that power is her birthright, and that she should cling on to it rather than admit her poor judgment. She must recognise the DUP as the homophobic chauvinists they are, but is willing to let them take control rather than admit her mistake and stand aside with dignity. It is an utterly farcical situation; Surely something must be done, rather than let these arrogant buffoons stay in power. We must do something before our rights start getting eroded.

The question currently on my mind – as I’m sure it is on most people’s today – is ‘now what?’ As things now stand, we have no government: May’s arrogance and balsiness has backfired, and the UK now has to find a way to form some sort of coalition government. And this is just two weeks before we have to start negotiations to leave the EU, the most complex and potentially perilous negotiations this country has faced for generations. What a fine, fine mess.

I do love a good farce! At this point, one can either get all serious and dramatic, and note the heralds of doom circling above; or you can mix yourself a martini (albeit a figurative one, given that I’m still not drinking – it’s been almost a year) sit back and watch the shit start to fly. The tories have got their comeuppance, and everyone can see what self-absorbed ninnies they are. Granted, the country will suffer for their arrogance, as indeed it already is, but it might just be worth it to watch the almighty shitstorm about to hit the country.

I’m not sure what to write here today. Most people reading this will probably have already voted, or at least know who they are going to vote for, so it’s pointless to try to persuade anyone. You guys know what I would say anyway. We can only hope that, come tomorrow morning, Jeremy Corbyn will be entering Ten Downing Street as our new prime minister.

Admittedly, that hope seems faint; the poor man never had much of a chance with the mainstream press almost universally ganging up to demonise him. He is something rare in politics: a good, caring man, motivated by compassion rather than greed, but that seems too revolutionary a concept for some to tolerate. Well, at least we can count on Corbyn not to jeopardise the future of the country internationally in order to try to settle an internal party schism.

Yet as faint as it is, that hope still exists – a glimmer of bright light amid the gloom that this good, honourable man will be this country’s next leader. Only time will tell whether it will have a chance to shine, and whether the Tories will be booted out for all the suffering they have caused. We can only stand back and wait until tomorrow morning, hoping we don’t get five more years of tory cuts, greed and misrule.

I was in Co-Op earlier, just on a standard supply trip. As I often do, I scanned the newspaper front pages while I was queuing at the check-out, and what I saw on the front of the daily Express horrified me. They were openly urging people to vote Tory. It was a blatant, unambiguous demand, without any attempt to hide it. I thought newspapers, as with all mainstream media, should have at least a veneer of impartiality; they should at least try to mask their bias; and they should not make such overt demands on their readership. And here such a demand was, as clear as day. It absolutely staggers me how they could get away with it. It strikes me as utterly wrong, and makes me very, very angry. They were attempting to influence the outcome of an election to suit their own selfish, infantile views. Surely something must be done about such overt attempts to manipulate the public and insist they vote in a certain way. How can rags like the Express be allowed to print such blatant demands?

A few days ago, Lyn and I decided to have a little competition. She had recently finished a track and wanted to make a video to go with it. It’s a rather slow, chilled out piece, and L thought shots of woodland, forrest and sunlight streaming through trees would suit it. Matt B and I therefore went to get some footage in Maryon Park, and came back with quite a bit of nice material.

We then decided to have a bit of fun. I think it was Matt’s idea, initially: he suggested Lyn and I both take the same footage and the same piece of music, and see who could edit together the best video. At first, I wasn’t very keen on the idea – it would mean me actually having to [i]do something[/i], but when I saw Lyn starting to make an effort, I thought I better get my finger out and put something together.

That, then, is what I did yesterday afternoon. Both videos are now finished, and I think the results are quite fascinating. Even though they are based on the same piece of music and used the same source material, we have created two very different films. Mine can be found here, and Lyn’s here. I think the contrast is quite clear: lyn has taken what could be called a smoother approach, using transitions between shots so that one flows nicely into the other. When I saw Lyn was doing this though, I decided to go in the other direction: my cuts are therefore quite abrupt and noticeable, with small gaps between shots. I wanted the images to act as a kind of counterpoint to the music, reusing images and mixing everything up, where in Lyn’s the visuals would be complementary to the audio.

We watched both films late yesterday afternoon. I fully expected Lyn’s to be far better than mine – she had spent far more time on hers, for one. To my surprise, though, they both stood up quite well. They are different, but I think they complement each other. As to who’s was better, we couldn’t decide, so noone ‘won’ the competition. However, I invite anyone reading this to watch both and decide.

While it isn’t quite what I expected to see when I saw it flagged up on Youtube, I still think this discussion of the Star Trek universe is worth a watch. As others have noted, it briefly and lightheartedly explores some of the philosophy behind Star Trek, and suggests that the utopic future it tries to portray may in fact be dystopic. A united humanity run by a quasi-military body like starfleet, where people have their needs magically met by replicators and so on, may not be as luxurious as Gene Roddenberry tried to present it as. Mind you, I better point out that this may just be a case of Americans trying to dismiss a future not run in America’s image: any vision of the future not wholly based on capitalism cannot be good, can it. Thus it says that, without the need to compete, people would just become lazy and unmotivated, obviously having been brainwashed to believe that people cannot cooperate for cooperation’s sake, and there is nothing more to life than competition and greed.

Late last night – late for me, at least – I was lying on the sofa watching a really poor Australian film. I was in two minds about it. In fact, I was just about to give in, turn it off and go to bed, when Lyn asked me to turn it over to the news. She had been on her computer in her studio, and obviously had seen something important. I turned the telly over, and that’s how I found out about the events of last night.

I watched for a bit. At first I clung to the hope that it all might turn out to be some sort of tragic accident, but pretty soon it became clear that this was no accident. The first question I found myself pondering was, how could this have been allowed to happen again, and so soon after the last one? I have to confess I raised a cynical eyebrow when I thought about the election being only a week away. After all, this plays right into the Tories’ hands: they want people to be scared in order that they can cast theirselves as defenders of the nation, also allowing them to justify attacks on free speech and cuts to the press. And of course, when the newsreader announced, in seemingly the gravest of tones, that Donald Trump had been informed, it only added to the impression that the drama was deliberately being built. Whip people up into a state of fear, and our liberties can more easily be taken, one by one.

But then, it’s all too easy to be a cynic and say we’re being manipulated. All one can really do is watch events unfold and hope for the best. Trying to read between the lines too much leads to some very strange, questionable places. After all, you could argue that it favours whatever party you choose. For now, let’s leave cynicism aside and hope we don’t see any more of these vicious, horrible events.

I’m not sure whether I’ve mentioned Maryon-Wilson Park on here before or not. I think I have, but not for some time. It’s a small wooden park near our house. I go through it quite frequently, often on my way to school or Woolwich. These past few days, though, I’ve been in there every chance I have had. It is stunningly beautiful in there: as soon as you enter, it feels as if you are suddenly miles away, out in the country. This time of year, the place is awash with wild flowers: bluebells and vivid red poppies, splashes of colour in the last fragment of an ancient woodland.

Lyn and I went through there this afternoon; we sat there for a while in a small glade by the path, the sunshine streaming through the gaps between the leaves. Behind us was the dried-up bed of an old brook which must once have flowed down to the Thames. In that moment time seemed almost to stop. We were surrounded by trees and plants, and all I could hear was birdsong, so that the metropolis and indeed the world suddenly faded away, and all that existed in that moment was the two of us.

How did a bunch of moronic clowns become so powerful? The United states of America is no longer a nation – it is a joke. It is a laughing stock, and the longer it has that utter child as a president, the more ridiculous it appears. We should all be pointing and laughing at it. How else can we all show our utter contempt for what it did yesterday? It is clearly rogue, and were it any other nation it would be either ignored or a firm candidate for regime change. Yet america is too powerful for either of these things, so the best we can do is point and laugh.

As of now, we must all point and laugh at any american we find, irrespective of their politics or how they voted. They must be made to feel uncomfortable; they must be made to feel shunned and diminished. They must get the idea that they come from a nation of halfwits the rest of the world now looks down upon. I know one should never advocate bullying, especially on the grounds of something people have no control over, such as nationality, but americans must be made to realise how angry the world is with them right now. How else can we make them understand that what their president – or rather, the idiot who calls himself their president – did yesterday was utterly unacceptable? What Trump did yesterday cannot be allowed to stand.

America is a joke. Since it elected that egotistical halfwit, it has been impossible to take seriously. Now that he has prioritised industry and short-term financial gain over the state of the world, however, his stupidity has started to effect us all. America must be made to know that we are all deeply unhappy with it and it’s leader; maybe – just maybe – they will then grow up, get serious and chuck the jackass currently in the White House out on his ear.

I had a great night last night. I went to another film festival organisation meeting. It may still be three months or so away, in September, but I now have so much to organise before then (yes, yes, Ican organise things when I put my mind to it!) I want to do a screening at the cafe in the park. It’s a great little venue with a lovey community feeling about it, so as well as mine and Michael’s Londoner’s films – the latter of which was actually shot at the cafe – I’m thinking about finding and screening community themed films. I find it cool that, even in a vast metropolis, you can still find places which feel more like little village tearooms, where the same people are always expected to show up, and the staff always greet you by asking if you want ”your usual?”

That, then, is my job for today: finding short films which reflect that community feeling. Mind you, with the weather as it is today, the temptation to actually go to the cafe itself may, sooner or later, get too much.

I think I am duty bound to flag this Guardian video up – it would be negligent of me if I didn’t. It is just one example of the appalling way in which people with disabilities are currently being treated in this country. The tories’ cuts to welfare have ruined so many lives. This video illustrates the problem quite graphically, but I don’t think it oversteps the mark: day after day, I see stories of such suffering. The cuts have savaged the support many, many people depended upon. If you watch this, I guarantee that the next time you see a tory MP stand there, claiming their cuts aren’t doing any damage and that it’s all being exaggerated, you will want to hurl something sharp and heavy at them. As the woman in the film says, the tories are treating people worse than animals.

I didn’t watch last night’s debate; I didn’t see the pointgiven I’ve already posted my vote. To be honest, though, I didn’t want to. I’ve had enough. I knew I would just get angry, fly into a rage and start yelling at the television. That’s bad for me, and bad for the furniture. Besides, I know what’s going on: every day I come across reports on social media of the suffering the tories are causing; it’s also staggeringly clear what direction the tories want to take the country in. I just couldn’t stomach the sight of May standing there, lying her head off, trying to justify her actions. I also knew that she would try to cast Corbyn – a good, caring man – in the darkest of lights. So I’m sorry if this is a blog entry about something I didn’t watch and thus have no right to comment on, but these are my reasons for not watching it. In short, I felt as if I’d seen it all before.

I must say I find this pure genius. I just came across it on Facebook. At first, I thought I was watching a genuine clip of Trump playing in a room full of children in front of the press – nothing abnormal for a politician. When he starts to play up more and more, refusing to get off his bouncing ball, I just burst out laughing. How did they make it? The actor on the ball looks so much like trump, but can’t be trump. At the same time, it is so in keeping with trump’s childish, infantile persona. It’s so great I just had to flag it up on here.

I’m now the proud owner of a volleyball. My film-making friend Matt gave one to me over coffee this afternoon. Just coming off a six week shoot, he explained that camerapeople put volleyballs under cameras so they get more control over them. They had christened it Wilson, obviously in reference to Cast Away, and it had functioned as a kind of lucky charm. Now that the shoot was over, Wilson was going free, so Matt thought I might to have it. I accepted it gratefully; I’d heard before of such tricks used on film sets, but I was fascinated to hear a first hand account. You hear that all kinds of semi-ritualistic things go on behind the camera, so it’s cool to be allowed a glimpse of that world.

For the record, I was not the person who hacked British airways, and nor did Lyn. We have enjoyed a lovely trip to Eltham to visit Marta. It’s been a splendid afternoon visiting a dear old friend, so we were both far too busy to commit any cybercrime. Sat out in her garden, catching up, exchanging news and gossip in a peaceful, pretty London suburb, the events of the world seemed miles away It had been ages since we had seen our former PA turned firm friend, so when L said she had invited us over for tea, I leapt at the chance. It turned out to be a perfect day, and a perfect alibi.

Today London threw me one of it’s nice little surprises. It’s obviously gorgeous out there – easily the nicest, hottest day of the year so far – so I decided to go for a drive along the river and up to the dome. Certain things are still playing on my mind from yesterday, and I needed to think them through. Once up there, I decided to hop on to the Emirates cable car, simply because it had been ages since I’d done so, and I want to get to know the north side of the river a bit more.

Once up there, I began to notice something odd: there were lots of people in all kinds of strange costumes about. I trundled over to the Excel Centre, where the oddlydressed people seemed to be conglomerating, and I suddenly realised I had stumbled upon some sort of huge convention.

I was instantly fascinated. I’m still very much into that kind of fan culture, but I still think I need to explore other forms of it: I still want to find other narratives, beyond those of mainstream film and television, to get into. I decided to pay the twenty quid to get in, and put my Walter Benjamin hat on.

What I found in there was incredible: all sorts of stalls and exhibits about all kinds of narratives and franchises, most of which I had never heard of. It struck me how varied it was: rather than being about one specific narrative, as in a Star Trek convention for example, all kinds of franchises and their corresponding fandoms were on show, particularly manga. Thus I got the impression that this event was more about a form of culture than one specific text. I found it intriguing as an outside observer, wandering in off the street, as it were.

I stayed for about an hour, then set off home. Ii really need to look up some of what I saw; I can see myself getting into that kind of outsider culture. London has done it again: it has shown me something fascinating I wasn’t even looking for. But for now, the sun still beating down, it’s time to head back out into the city.

Today was Communication Works 2017, and I think it’s fair to say that it has been quite a day. I got there nice and early, just as everyone was setting up their stalls. It was in a big sports hall, to one side of which were doors opening on to an area with a small shack. In there they were projecting short films, one of which was my Thousand Londoners film, as well as films by Post 16 students. Close by was a table with folders containing some of my writing. It was the manifestation of the exhibition idea I mentioned here, and I felt quite flattered to be featured so highly.

In the main hall were stalls exhibiting all sorts of the latest communications technology. It was incredibly interesting. I hadn’t been there long when my friend Matt arrived to help me film some of it. I’d had the idea of making a film on the event a few days ago; it seemed the best way for me to contribute. We spent a couple of hours getting footage of the stalls and exhibitors, as well as going in to some of the seminars. I think we now have the makings of an excellent film, which I’ll edit together soon.

Lyn popped in an hour or two into the event, and we had a fascinating time looking at everything. Mid-afternoon, the three of us popped out for a coffee; L and M stayed at the cafe, while I went back to see the event to it’s end. I just got home, rather tired and hot, but glad to have been, and excited what the communication world comes up with by next year.

Yesterday in the park we touched upon my liking for Bond, as we had just heard the sad news about Roger Moore. Chivon, who works at the cafe there, recommended an animated series called Archer. She said it was a bit of a Bond spoof, but it was very funny and she and her friends were into it in a big way. I just looked up the first episode on Youtube – I had to pay to watch it – and she was right. It isn’t a direct spoof of Bond in my opinion, but there are witty, knowing references. It is quite dirty, yet very clever indeed. I also find the style of animation very interesting indeed. When chivon said it was a cartoon, I was expecting something for children; archer definitely is not for kids, although not in the sense that South Park is a cartoon which isn’t for kids. I can certainly see myself getting into it. Before I comment on it much further, though, I better go watch more episodes.

Lyn and I just got in from a lovely long walk over to Greenwich. While out, though, I via my iPad learned of the sad death of Sir Roger Moore. I just want to note how sad I find this news: the opening of The Spy Who loved Me is one of my favourite pieces of film; and although I wasn’t especially taken with Moore’s Bond versus the others (see this entry), it is unarguably true that he helped make the series what it is. More to the point, today we have lost a fine actor and a great gentleman – a true legend. It seems only fitting that I direct you here, albeit with a heavy heart. Indeed, nobody did it better.

I think back to those moments when the curtain came down for the final time at the end of all the awesome gigs I’ve been to. There’s that feeling of elation at having been there; you feel so privileged, and vow to yourself never to forget it. It’s a special moment – I’m usually already trying to decide what to write on my blog. That’s what those guys in Manchester must have been feeling last night; wondering how best to get to the exit, and then the world suddenly becomes a chaos of screaming and panic.

How can anyone perform such an act? How can anyone intentionally cause such harm and distress on people so young? That’s what I don’t understand. They chose that very specific, unique moment after the gig had just come to an end, presumably to cause as much suffering as they could. Sometimes you simply have to despair at the depravity people are capable of.

Yesterday really was a lovely day. It felt like the first proper day of summer. After Lyn had opened her presents, we took a stroll down to the river. We’d arranged to meet the guys we usually see at the cafe at The Anchor and Hope, but they strangely never showed up. After an hour or so there, we walked along the Thames for a while, the sun beating down. Then we came back up through the various parks, beautiful in the sunshine, to Charlton Park.

The evening saw a real treat: a barbecue! Mitch had suggested it earlier in the day, and we agreed wholeheartedly. We sat out in the garden and listened too music while he grilled sausages and fish in the open air. The smell was wonderful.

Then something truly touching happened. We could hear kids playing next door; they were getting more and more boisterous, as I think they could smell the sausages. However, they then started to throw stones over, so Mitch went round to tell their mum as it was quite dangerous. The stone-throwing stopped shortly after, and we thought that was an end to it.

A short while later though, our neighbour came round with the two young boys – they were hardly more than five or six – to apologise. We were touched: we explained that it was no problem, just a bit dangerous given Lyn and I were sat out there in the sun. I then added that we were out there celebrating L’s birthday, and they wished her happy birthday.

After that we went in to eat. I had a huge plate of bangers and some of the most delicious mash I had ever eaten. It was so enormous I couldn’t eat it all. After that we went back out to enjoy the remaining sunshine, but it was then that our neighbours returned. The boys had quickly made birthday cards for Lyn. It was truly humbling, truly special – we were so touched. For our neighbour to have those boys create those cards at such short notice, so quickly, could not have been that easy. It was an incredible end to an amazing day, reminding me that there are still good people in the world who care about what happens in it.

Here’s wishing the most incredible woman in the world a very happy birthday once again. I can’t believe Lyn’s birthday has come around again so quickly – it doesn’t seem a year since i was last wishing her a happy birthday; but then, what an action-packed year it was. Lyn is quite pleased because she just got some more RAM for her mac, and I got some too! It’s looking like a lovely day, so we’ll probably head out soon in our chairs. I hope she has a fantastic day, as I hope Dad had a great day yesterday.

Lyn has recently started to use a great new music app on her Ipad. It’s called KRFT, and it is amazing what it allows her to do. She can make tracks at quite a staggering pace on it, and it also allows her to perform live much more easily. I found it quite amazing to watch her on it. Yesterday she and Paul made this video of her using it. We both now think it would be really good to organise a performance with it.

Last night certainly was an interesting one: cool, but not in a sense that that word usually applies to a gig. A couple of weeks ago, Lyn and I started to see flyers around the village for a Glenn Tillbrook concert over in Greenwich. Not recognising the name, I ignored them, but Lyn said she wanted to go, so we had a drive to Greenwich to get tickets. Thus I had no idea what to expect last night. Me being me, I scanned Tilllbrook’s Wikipedia page on the way over. Knowing Lyn, I knew we were in for some kind of rock gig, but other than that I had no idea what to expect.

As it turned out, I think it caught L by surprise too. After a delicious pizza, we made our way to the venue. It looked like a posh school hall, and indeed there were quite a few fairly young children in there. Nevertheless, we took our places. It started shortly after, not with music but with quite a crude comedian – one of those Roy Chubby Brown types, only slightly less blue. After a few fairly hit-and-miss jokes, he introduced Tillbrook himself, to sing a few songs. Then, to my increasing bemusement, some school kids came on to sing. It was then I realised that we had got tickets for a charity gig for a local primary school.

After that I settled down and began to get into it; normal standards and expectations did not apply. There was a gospel choir, Tillbrook doing a few duets with his son, and, in the second half, quite a cool blues band called Seven Below Zero, who I felt took the night up a notch.

It ended about eleven. Quite randomly, we bumped into Sharron in the foyer; I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks – she’d been busy canvassing, she explained – but it was a great surprise to see her, and we agreed to meet for coffee soon. On the bus home, I thought about the evening, and wondered what to write about it. It had been cool, but not like other gigs are cool. You can see all the mega-bands you like, I suppose, but sometimes, the quainter, more local gigs are the ones that stay in your memory.

My postal ballot should be arriving soon, but to be honest I am quite torn about how to use it. I can’t decide whether to vote Labour or Liberal Democrat: I like Corbyn and many of his leftist policies, especially how he intends to increase high rate tax in order to pay for badly needed public services; yet he remains dedicated to Brexit, something I’m vehemently against. The lib dems, on the other hand, propose a second referendum – a chance to turn away from the utter catastrophe we are currently hurtling towards. I also like their progressive, mature attitudes to things like cannabis. The problem is, if I vote Lib Dem, the opposition vote risks being split, resulting in a tory majority. I am therefore stuck: vote Labour, and while many socially oriented policies might be enacted, Brexit will become a certainty; vote lib dem and I risk either letting the tories win, or, at best, getting another Tory/lib dem coalition, and look what damage the last one did.

Truth be told, then, I have no idea who to vote for. Of course, not voting at all is not an option, especially this time. Yet either way the outlook looks bleak. Do I vote for a party who’s policies I believe in, who have a chance of winning, but who will secure our fate as an isolated little island; or do I go with a party who want to undo the disaster of last year, yet have no real chance of forming a government? Above all, a tory majority of the size many are now forecasting would be too hideous to bear. All one can really do is hold your nose, put a cross in the box, and hope for the best.

I am now very happy. Word came that my new wheelchair had been delivered to Welling Mobility yesterday, and it arrived here just one or two hours ago. I’m currently waiting for the drizzle to stop and a few breaks in the clouds to appear before I take her on her first run out. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for what feels like an age, although, to be fair, it wasn’t that long. Nonetheless, I think I’ll christen her Discovery, after the forthcoming Star Trek incarnation everyone is now fed up of waiting for, yet will be all the more succulent when it arrives.

Like many Trekkies, I’m getting a bit fed up waiting for news about Discovery to come out. They seem to keep putting it off and putting it off, so I’m beginning to doubt whether it’ll ever be shown. However, I’ve just been alerted to something to focus on in the meantime: Dean, one of my mates from the film festival, just sent me this link. It seems that Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlane is working on a new live-action show spoofing Star Trek. Of course, a short trailer isn’t much to go on, and Macfarlane’s work can be fairly hit and miss; but I think Orville could be worth getting excited about.

There have been science fiction comedies before, Red Dwarf for example, but none with such obviously high production values. This has the potential to be great, and could say a lot of interesting things about Star Trek and sci fi generally. Mind you, by the same token, it could be puerile and childish – just a series of gags set on a star ship. Either way, I think this is one to keep an eye on.

For the first time in what felt like ages, last night saw us around the corner at Cataleya, the local Thai restaurant, for a Gus Glen gig. I can’t remember when the last one was, but I guess it was at least a year. Nonetheless, it was an awesome night: the place was far fuller than it had been on previous nights, and the people loved it.

Gus had a fairly young woman with him last night, and together they duetted some great songs. Mostly they did rock classics, but Gus threw in some folk songs too. They both have fine voices, and it was lovely sitting there listening to them.

Towards the end, though, Gus joked that he would have to play Sweet Home Alabama even though he hated it because someone – meaning me- always made him do it. I felt instantly guilty when he said that. It is true I like that song, and that I have rather enthusiastically asked him to play it in the past; but I didn’t mean to demand he plays it every time he sees me. I think he was joking though, and when I talked to him about it afterwards he laughed about it. Nonetheless, let this stand as formal notification that Gus does not have to play Sweet Home Alabama if he doesn’t want to.

It ended at about ten, and as Mitch pushed me back up the hill (I’m still sans powerchair) I started to hope the next gig wouldn’t be too far away. Nights like that, with great music and great company, really help make life fun.

Just to let you know, TIIROAC is still very much up and running. It has not been hacked; it has not come under attack from international terrorists. Whether this is a good or bad thing, I’m not sure: on the one hand, it means I can just keep posting entries, the same as always; on the other, I suppose it also means that my blog isn’t important enough to be attacked. I obviously don’t rank as high as Fed-Ex or the NHS on the terrorists’ agenda. Oh well, that kind of puts me in my place.

You can go to the ends of the earth, you can see the words greatest sights, but I have now come to the understanding that nothing is as beautiful as a simple hug from the person you love. This morning, in the drowsy few moments between sleep and wakefulness, I felt Lyn’s hand on me. I rolled over and hugged her back. She smiled and giggled wth that sweet, infectious giggle she has, and in that moment I knew she loved me. It was a feeling I once thought I would never experience. felt content beyond words, and wanted that instant to forever. But I knew it had to end, so I decided to record it on here instead. Some moments, however fleeting,are so beautiful that they cannot be allowed to fade into nothingness.

Can it really be ten years since I wrote this entry? Ten years since I looked round at my friends in Brandies bar as we prepared to say goodbye to eachother for the last time? I remember that night well: it felt so final, as if something was coming well and truly to an end. And it was indeed an end – the end of our lives as undergraduates; the final night of three marvellous years.

After that night, of course, we all went our separate ways. Thanks to the internet we are, for the most part, still in touch; but we rarely see eachother. Most of the guys now have families: Steve and Jenny now have children; Rocky has a beautiful baby boy; Chris is married. Of course I still see Charlotte from time to time, and she remains one of my dearest friends, but, C being C, I can barely keep track of her. We are all now responsible adults, upstanding members of society with jobs and mortgages. What a difference ten years has made. Hell, even I, with Lyn’s help, have settled down, cut out the booze and taken up volunteering.

Yet I remember that night, dressed in my blue frock with a liverful of bitter, when I looked round at my friends and realised how much I’d miss them. Probably more than anything else at university, those guys made me who I am today. I check facebook every day to catch up with their news – it’s wonderful to see how they are progressing. Rocky’s son is growing fast, as are Steve and Jen’s daughters.

All good things must indeed come to an end. Only, nothing ever truly ends: things change and evolve in time’s eternal flow. People drift apart and come together, just as the tide flows in and out. What remain are memories, and those are what I still relish, ten years on.

While I won’t say too much about it, Lyn’s new album, War On Humans, is available to download and buy here. A hell of a lot of effort went into making these tracks, and I think it shows. Enjoy!

There are far more able people out there than me articulating the utter absurdity of what is currently happening in America, this guy, for example. Things are getting ridiculous over there: the man they currently call their president is an utter child who thinks he has the authority and right to fire the head of the FBI when he starts getting too close to his links with Russia. Then he thinks nobody will smell a herring. Trump is beyond a joke. If this had been a film, I’d have walked out of the cinema or changed the tv channel long ago – it’s just too far fetched. But this is reality, and we really do have a complete fool pretending to be president of America. The question is, how much longer before the adults step in, cut the crap and force him out.

Late last night, in a moment of reflection, I noted the following: ”People are trying to manipulate us so you can’t trust anyone – least of all people who claim we’re all being manipulated!” I have been thinking about conspiracism quite a bit recently; it seems to be becoming more and more popular. Fed up with what they see as the mainstream, people turn to alternative sources of information. I suppose that is understandable – after all, as resources grow ever more scarce, the mainstream just feeds us the same old crap without offering any solutions to their day-to-day problems.

The thing is, these alternative sources of info, often online, seem to ensnare people: they tell people stories, giving people hope yet often creating scapegoats. They weave elaborate webs, telling tales of who did what to whom, which sound convincing and authoritative, but for which they produce very little evidence. They tell listeners that the mainstream, controlled by their scapegoat of choice, is trying to manipulate them so they should heed only the so-called alternatives. This gives listeners a sense of power and privilege, as if they are gaining information few others are privy to.

Once ensnared, however, listeners are fed what essentially boils down to a diet of unjustified hatred. We all know that, on the internet, people can give vent to whatever prejudices they have – some merely hide them under a guise of conspiracism, taking people’s sense of injustice at what is happening in the world and turning it against whatever group they wish. Once they have people’s ear, they have power over them; they are trapped by the lies and stories, feeling powerful while being manipulated.

It is indeed foolish to trust anyone; everyone is being manipulated. But the people who point that out are often the most manipulative people of them all. With that in mind, do you still trust me?

I know I’ve been a bit heavy on the shortish, link-oriented entries recently, but I really want to flag this up. Once again it’s on Brexit: A C Grayling is a very astute man indeed; he points out how much the current situation is starting to look like a coup. First they weight the referendum, disenfranchising people more likely to vote Remain; they then deny the slender outcome was ever going to be only advisory; then they say that the triggering of article Fifty is irreversible. It is as if the tories and Labour, for that matter – are now hell bent on the hardest of Brexits. Like the vainglorious generals who, a century ago, sent cavalry to charge against German machine gun, these tory fools would have this country ripped to shreds in the basis of patriotic fervour. As Grayling points out, things will soon be so bad that we will

be begging to rejoin. He gives it ten or twelve years, but I hope we come to our senses long before then. It is high time that we started to listen to experts like Grayling, and ignoring fools who, dressed up in their shiny, nineteenth-century uniforms, tell us to just keep riding and not to look back.

I just turned my computer on. Like most people, I was bracing myself for another morning like the two last year when we woke to find that utter stupidity and populism had prevailed over tolerance and thought. Thank zark this was not another morning like that. I know Macron is not perfect: in no way is he an ideal candidate for lefties like me; but at least he beat La Pen. Had that bitch been elected in France, Europe would effectively be over. The european project – working together, across Europe, towards tolerance and stability – would have been a thing of the past. La Pen would have seen France withdraw, and after that there would have been little point continuing to struggle with it. At least now we europeans still have a glimmer of hope. I’m just ashamed we brits were taken in by the abject, brainless folly that our French neighbours avoided last night. Mind you, we have a chance to redeem ourselves in about a months time.

Although, as Lyn knows, I tend not to go in for conspiracism, I think this article on the interconnected forces behind the election of Trump, Brexit and so on very, very disturbing. ”A shadowy global operation involving big data, billionaire friends of Trump and the disparate forces of the Leave campaign influenced the result of the EU referendum.” Several interlinked groups are conspiring to hijack world politics, driving it more and more to thee right. I wish I could simply dismiss such stories as paranoid fantasy, but it is becoming increasingly clear that world politics is being manipulated by a few very powerful, very right-wing people. The situation is becoming very scary indeed.

For the record, I’m firmly with Stephen Fry on this story. He is apparently now being investigated by Republic of Ireland police on blasphemy charges. He questioned how anyone could believe in a loving, beneficent god when there is clearly so much suffering in the world. To me, these are perfectly reasonable questions to ask, and it troubles me that anyone would still object to him asking them in this day and age. I daresay he pointed out a truth some people are still uncomfortable with – perish the thought that he’ll encourage people to think for theirselves and start questioning the authority of the church.

I have not had a bad day at all. My parents came for lunch, and it was great to see them. We took them to the park, where we had a good old chat over some delicious cake.

My powerchair is still out of action though, so after my parents set off paul wheeled me home while Lyn went for a walk. I felt a bit down about not being able to go with her, but at least I have the entire internet to keep me occupied. I have, however, just come across something to put my ‘suffering’ in context: this appalls me, and I hope anyone who watches it will be too. It is a Guardian Youtube video about the treatment of people with disabilities in Bolivia. They are deprived of any dignity whatsoever, get given a pittance from the state, and are treated with absolute savagery when they protest. What the tories are doing here is bad enough, but what this film reveals is utterly inhumane. As a disabled person, my heart goes out to them, and weeps.

I am very lucky: I have a great life, a great partner and great family. While I get quite upset about what is currently happening in this country, films like this demonstrate how much worse life for people like me could be. Yet that is no reason to stop fighting and get complacent: things could easily take a nasty turn. The distance from merry chats in the park to being hauled from one’s chair by riot police is smaller than one thinks; and these days it seems to be slowly shrinking.