These days, I find great solace in reminding myself that all the awesome stuff which happened before last year remains awesome. 2016 was terrible, and I still get really, really angry thinking about it. Every time I see, hear or read anything about Brexit, I fly into an almighty rage. Humanity is going in the wrong direction, mislead by liars and fools. The only way I can calm myself down is to think about everything I find incredible, everything which fascinated me, and all the cool stuff which happened in, say, 2012 and 2014, and tell myself it hasn’t been tarnished. When London hosted the olympics, it was part of the EU; when Monty Python performed at the o2, we were still in the EU.

These days it feels like everything has turned to dust: the xenophobes have got their way; society will soon become far more intolerant and inward-looking. There is a lot of fear and anger in my heart right now. The only way I can control it, the only way I can calm myself down, is to retreat into memory and think about all the cool stuff which happened before last year. That remains unblemished: it happened before everything was smeared with hate, before the country was fooled into betraying itself.

I used to love this country. I loved it’s culture, and so much cool stuff that happened here. Yet, after last year, the only way I could justify continuing to love such things was to tell myself that they happened before the folly – before the united kingdom turned it’s back on the world. I want to be a member of the global community – how could I continue to love a country which denied me that? Thus, to me, 2016 represents a partition – a dividing point before which I respected and loved the UK, and after which it lost it’s way, and was taken from me. In a way I find comfort in the fact that all the cool stuff happened before the country lost my respect, so it’s memory can remain untarnished by the utter folly of what happened afterward. These days, that is the only way I can content myself.

This might sound silly or childish, but it’s the only way I can find any solace, and keep loving all the things I found so amazing in 2012 and 2014. Of course, cool things can still happen, and I really hope they do – I think we could all do with a shot of awesomeness right now – but I’m glad the cool things now so dear to me happened before the country lost it’s way; at least I have a kind of heyday to look back upon, and remind myself that things weren’t always so utterly, utterly stupid. Who knows: one day a british city may host the olympics again, and we’ll see a repeat of the glories of 2012; but, for now, I can’t see that happening. For now, for me, pride in the UK exists only as a memory, and won’t return until we get back on the right, internationalist, outward-looking course. If, as many predict, the world at large is about to take a very dark turn, then at least I have some great things to look back on, before everything went crazy.

Yesterday I was sent quite an interesting task by one of my colleagues at the Charlton and Woolwich Free Film Festival. He sent me a list of about twenty short films to watch and evaluate, in order to see if we could include them in the festival. It was a task right up my street, and I just finished the last one. They were a bit hit and miss, to be honest: some of the films were great, while others were downright weird. One, for example, was about one man paying another to pretend to be his child. Yet I must say I really enjoy tasks like this: I’m very interested in this short, abrupt narrative form. There seems to be a type of poetry to it. I also think, with the advent of Twitter and Youtube, it’s the way things are going – we don’t have time these days for longer narratives. It all puts one in mind of Hemingway’s very abrupt, staccato writing style, and the way he, too, sought to go directly to the point. In a way, it also evokes the style of writing many people use online, in blogs and twitter.

This type of film does away with anything superfluous and tries to address one’s emotions directly. That’s why I found this task quite fascinating, and why I got through it so quickly.

Things have just got interesting. If anyone still doubted the tories put party interest before that of the country, today they got their proof. After months of denying that she would call an election, this morning May did just that (although I’m sure this blog won’t be the first place anyone will hear that). She obviously thinks that, the polls being as they are, the tories will win, giving May the mandate she craves. Thus this decision reeks of opportunism. After totally fucking the country last year, the tories want our permission to do it some more. The problem is, Labour is currently a shambles. The only hope for us who want to remain part of the EU – part of the world – is to vote Lib Dem. If the opposition is split between Labour and the Lib Dems, the tories will get reelected, brexit will continue, and life will get even worse. I’m thus very worried about what will happen in six weeks’ time: could it lead to a new hope, or an even deeper pit?

Things, it would seem, have just got very interesting indeed.

I don’t think i’ve ever mentioned being a fan of MASH on here. In the nineties, it used to be repeated on Sky One* at half seven every weekday night, and dad used to put it on. I was just a kid, so I probably didn’t appreciate the tragic aspects to it, but I remember liking it. Now that another, probably even more catastrophic war on the Korean Peninsula seems imminent, I find myself wondering what Hawkeye Pierce would make of all this. He would no doubt have a few wisecracks to make about Trump, yet as ever those quips would hide a deeper understanding of the dangerousness and underlying tragedy of the situation. With that in mind, perhaps it’s appropriate to direct you here today.

*I probably ought to note that I had begged my parents to get Sky tv so I could watch wwf wrestling when I was little. That was, of course, well before I realised what an utter scumbag Rupert Murdoch is.

I noticed a new sign on the door of the cafe yesterday, printed on yellow paper, notifying the public that one of their more vulnerable customers had recently been verbally attacked nearby, and asking people to come forward if they saw anything like that. Obviously it was referring to me and my run in with some local kids last week. Truth be told, though, I didn’t know what to make of it: of course, I’m humbled that they care; yet my eyebrow was raised at being labelled ‘vulnerable’. Am I really that vulnerable? Yes, I have cerebral palsy; I use a powerchair and communication aid. But I’m thirty-four, have a Master’s, and I can handle a few airhead kids. I welcome the sentiment behind the sign; I now regard the guys over in that cafe as good friends. Yet the use of that particular word – the sense of weakness it projects onto me and people with disabilities in general – somehow bothers me.

Dad popped over yesterday, just on one of his fairly routine visits to see how we were. As usual, we spoke about this and that – it’s always nice to hear what the family’s up to. Dad also made a very interesting point with regard to my entry on Thursday, though: he thought the idea was cool, but could it be expanded upon? What would a parrot sketch involving, say, vulcans look like? After all, such a sketch with the Klingons would probably be fairly short as they would just tear each other’s heads off. The vulcans, on the other hand, might enter into a philosophical debate over whether the parrot was truly dead or not, and what death is. And what about other cultures and ‘races’, fictional or real? What would such a sketch look like in china or Japan? Might Japanese people be too courteous to argue? After all, dad pointed out, the original sketch could be read as a comment on British culture: like a lot of python, it revolves around ideas of class hierarchy, with a rather bourgeois man confronting the slightly dodgy proletarian pet shop owner about selling him duff merchandise. Could this famous old bit of comedy thus be used to reflect the differences between cultures? It has, at it’s heart, a bitter dispute – a tension and argument which, by taking it to the point of absurdity, are used to tease out cultural traits. Could such a conflict be used to illuminate other traits in other cultures? I must say, I find that idea both highly amusing and absolutely intriguing.

Yesterday I came across someone on facebook saying that they would refuse to watch the new John Cleese sitcom because of his stance on the EU, but I welcome the news that he is going back into TV with glee. Whatever his politics, surely the news that one of the greatest comedians ever is rejoining the beeb is worth a smile; and as I wrote in the addendum to this entry, one should never let politics get in the way of such matters. Of course, whether the new show will be any good or not remains to be seen. The question is, does the old master still have it, or is this just yet another attempt at restoking fading fires?

A couple of days ago, I had one of my weird, slightly random ideas I get from time to time. How awesome would it be to see Monty Python’s Parrot Sketch performed in Klingon, by two actors in full Klingon Costume? The thought amused me for a while, before I tried to mock up a simple picture of two Klingons, one holding an empty bird cage, with a speech bubble with ”I wish to register a complaint” in Klingon in it. The thought of such a juxtaposition, such a combining of the greatest ever comedy sketch with science fiction’s most famous warrior race, amused me greatly. It just seemed so random, so absurd, it just begged to be made real.

Trundling home from a film festival meeting last night, though, I found myself wondering whether I could actually bring such a performance about. Ideas are all very fine and dandy, but what would I have to do to make it happen? It struck me as quite an interesting thought experiment. As bizarre as it may seem, weirder things have happened; if the queen can parachute out of a helicopter with 007, I can get two Klingons to perform the parrot sketch. The question is, how.

I’d want it to be filmed, of course, so the first step would be to hire a film crew. I’d also need to get the entire script of the sketch translated into Klingon. Automatic translators exist online, of course (here for example), but I’d probably need to hire a professional linguist, familiar with the invented language. Then I need actors who would be willing to get dressed up in full Klingon regalia and speak in Klingon. I somehow doubt the original parrot sketch actors, John Cleese and Michael Palin, would be willing to do it, so I would need to use new actors, ideally ones familiar with both Python and Trek. Add to that make-up artists, preferably some who have worked on Star Trek and so know how to create a Klingon.

The list goes on. I have no idea how to sort out any of these. There would probably also be copyright issues to deal with, too. Nonetheless, i’m sure there must be a way to get this sketch filmed. The thought of hearing a Klingon utter the immortal words ”I wish to register a complaint”, or ”Complaint Suy qachmey vIneH”, is just too delicious to let go. Just think what it might look like – assuming, of course, that one Klingon wouldn’t just kill the other for arguing with him. Whether I can make this crazy idea a reality, of course, remains to be seen, but if I could somehow bring it about, I have a feeling that it would be glorious.

I just got wind of something potentially very interesting indeed related to Star Trek Discovery. I still keep my ears open for news about the new Trek series, and was just now fascinated to come across a rumour that the new first officer is going to be male-to-female transgender. It’s just speculation for now, but a few days ago I raised my eyebrow upon hearing that the character will be female, yet will be called Michael. This has lead some to speculate that she will be trans. If so, I find it potentially fascinating. This is the sort of acceptance and tolerance we need to see, perhaps now more than ever.

Trek, of course, has always lead the way with this sort of thing. When Uhura was cast as a black person in the sixties, many people objected. Gene Roddenberry’s point was that, by the twenty-third century, the colour of a person’s skin won’t matter. The same principal obviously applies here, and while some doubtless will accuse Trek producers of trying to ram diversity down our throats, I certainly think that this is a step in the right direction. My only niggle is, as I wrote here, Geordie Laforge aside, we have never seen any characters with disabilities on Star Trek, so that is what I would like to see next.

When I got to the cafe yesterday, I was greeted with a most wondrous sight: Mike, the owner, was being helped by Stuart, a local painter I know, to put a new painting on the wall. Stuart had done a beautiful painting of Charlton House, just up the path from the cafe. The image was stunning. About a metre by a metre, it captured the old house in all it’s regal, seventeenth-century glory. It was framed, as if seen through a window, upon which a bird sat; before the house was the green, where I could just imagine a cricket match being played; above the house was a sky as blue as jade. It was a truly remarkable piece of work, and I could look at it for hours. I now have yet another reason to visit the cafe. In the meantime, you can check out Stu’s work here.

Yesterday I came across a reference to I, Daniel Blake. I hadn’t heard much about it, but I gathered from the reference that it was a film about the benefit cuts, and that tory commentator Toby Young had tried to dismiss the film as somehow ”not ringing true”. That of course got my interest, so this morning I’d give Ken Loach’s film a watch on Youtube. Young had apparently said it was too bleak, and ”a far cry from the claimants portrayed on benefits street”. (see this video).

What I just found myself watching was an unremittingly bleak film, yet one wholly and heartbreakingly based in the savage truth. If you want to know what is going on in this country, if you want to understand what the Tories are doing and the effect their cuts are having, watch this film. While I got the impression that there were ever so slight whiffs of exaggeration for dramatic or narrative purposes, time ant time again, I’ve heard stories like this. In a way it feels like an amalgamation of many people’s stories, all condensed into one. My one criticism would only be that it too often goes out of it’s way to explain technical terms and details, so some of the dialogue felt a bit contrived. Young apparently complains that the film is too bleak, yet whether he likes it or not, this film exposes the reality of what the tories are doing. The current ”back to work” regime is a scandal, and more than anything, this film made me even more furious at the Tory p’tahks implementing it. This film exposes the savage reality of what is currently going on; we should all watch it and get angry.

I just watched Trainspotting again. Believe it or not, I had only seen it once before, but between my recent ruminations about Danny Boyle and thee sequel coming out, I thought I had better give it a second watch. What I just found myself watching, however, wasn’t quite the film I had expected to see. I had prepared myself for something gritty, hard-hitting and real; something about the dark, violent world inhabited by heroin users. Yet, to me, something about Boyle’s film did not ring true this time around: what it was trying to depict was not what it was depicting. The characters, especially the narrator Renton, all seemed too articulate and self aware. There seemed to be a sort of irony at the core of the film, and I can’t decide whether it was intentional or not: these people were supposed to be down and out, scum of the earth, on the fringes of society; yet they spoke and made references as if they had been to university. They had a bourgeois feel to them, even though we are supposed to see them as vermin. Was this irony deliberate? Was boyle trying to make a statement? I found myself fascinated by this question, this tension. It’s as if the director is reminding us that we’re watching a film. Boyle could have made these characters far more gritty, far more real, but instead he gave them a selfawareness one does not find in real smack-heads. They thus loose some of their authenticity, but was that intentional? And if so, what was the point Boyle was trying to make?

The strangest, coolest think keeps happening since my accident last Saturday. Whenever I’m out and about, people keep telling me that they heard what happened and asking me how I am, even when I don’t know them. Earlier this afternoon, for instance, I was about to go through Maryon Park when the park keeper there stopped me. He said he recognised me, asked how I was, and told me that if I had any more trouble from these kids I could tell him. I found it quite humbling really: it made me feel part of a community, one which is aware of what is going on, and which looks after it’s members. Yet things like that have happened again and again over the past week. The way in which people seem to care about what happened to me last Saturday reassures me. London is not just a collection of dispassionate individuals one often takes it to be; as big as it is, sometimes it feels like one vast village.

Equador has just elected the world’s first wheelchair-using head of state. According to this article from the New York Times I just came across, ”When he assumes office next month, [Lenin] Moreno will be the only head of state who needs a wheelchair to get around.” I think that’s rather cool, and certainly a step in the right direction (forgive the pun). At least it shows some of us are still opening up and becoming more inclusive, rather than sinking back into hatred.

I think I need to flag this up today. I was thinking recently about the power of film, and how a great film can have a profound effect on contemporary society. Think of films like Gandhi or Long Walk to Freedom: film is a uniquely powerful medium with the ability to change minds. Going back to the EU debate briefly, I began to think that what we on the Remain side could do with is a film. We need to take back control of the discourse, explain how we feel, change minds, and get the referendum result overturned. What better way to do this than with a powerful, hard-hitting, emotive film which makes our case clear.

Initially, I had something fictional in mind: a feature film, perhaps directed by the great Danny Boyle (he’s still my god), apocalyptic and dystopian, spelling out the consequences of this disastrous decision. But then I posted my idea on a Remainers Facebook page I’m on, and got the answer that someone is already working on a film. A documentary rather than a feature, Postcards From The 48% is being made by Guerilla Films. Directed by David Nicholas-Williams, it will present ‘our’ viewpoint, interviewing Remainers to allow them to explain why they are so passionate and angry. It looks very promising indeed, and pretty much exactly what we need right now. The outists are trying to shut us up, demanding that our view is now irrelevant and that we should just keep quiet. They are obviously worried that, as the shit hits the fan like it’s already starting to, the Remain camp will gain traction and the result will be overturned. But that is precisely what needs to happen, and why films like this [b]must[/b] be made. I sincerely hope that Postcards From The 48% is just the first of many such films, and that it will empower a movement which will see the Uk reclaiming it’s rightful position in europe.

A bit of cheerful news on a bright and cheerful day (and after recent events I could do with cheering up). I just got wind* that all the speculation can now come to an end: Daniel Craig will play James Bond in at least one more film. If you ask me, this is great news: Craig is probably the best bond, playing him as close as possible to the character Ian Fleming created. The only question is, by the time this film comes out, will he be too old? That of course remains to be seen, so for now I’m rather optimistic, and glad to see this issue resolved.

If only all the other issues could be this easily resolved.

*Just linking to the Chester Chronicle out of sheer randomness.

My foot feels much better this morning than it did yesterday, and, although not quite back to normal, is well on the way to mending. There is, however, a detail which I left omitted from my entry yesterday which I’ve been urged by my friends to address. When I was going down the road, heading for the zebra crossing, I passed some kids who like to try to taunt me. This may have caused me to speed up. I try to ignore it – reacting in any way only encourages them. Yet it gets to me: they see me as a source of fun; it feels as if they think they have a right to belittle me. I suppose it gets to me. On Sunday they were out in force, acting as if they were gangsters owning the streets, when in fact they’re just little twerps with no idea what the real world is like. They had been doing it all day, and it was getting irritating. I was therefore trying to get to the park as quickly as I could, and that may have had a causal effect on what happened. As I say, I was going to ignore it, but I’ve been encouraged by my friends to write about this aspect of what happened.

Yesterday was not such a great day. It started well enough: a decent blog entry written; skyped my parents; had breakfast, and then razzed round to the park for coffee. I was there for a while, talking to my friends and listening to conversations. Lyn was supposed to meet me there, but after a while when she didn’t turn up, I nipped back home to see where she was. I needed to pick up my coat anyway.

When I got home, however, L wasn’t here. I reasoned that she must have set out already, and headed back out. There are two ways to Charlton Park from our place: one is up a normal, boring suburban street; the other is through Maryon-Wilson park, a pretty piece of ancient woodland. Lyn usually takes the far more interesting latter, so I thought I’d take the shorter path and meet her on the main Woolwich road. The two routes come on to that road at different spots though, so when I got there I looked up the road to see if I could see Lyn. I couldn’t, so started to head across the road here when BANG!

A mass of red flashed in front of me, and I suddenly felt an intense pain in my foot. A bus had hit my footplate. Had I been any further onto the crossing and I could easily have been killed. I had assumed the bus would stop for me, but it was going too fast.

What happened after that is a blur of police, paramedics, ambulances. Paul came with me to the hospital, where my left foot, throbbing with pain, was checked over and X-rayed. Luckily it wasn’t broken, only bruised. It hurt like hell, and still does. I felt such an idiot – I should have been more careful. More than anything, though, I felt lucky to be alive: had I been any further onto the road, the bus would have hit my side with full force, snd it would have been game over.

Yesterday was a lovely day, despite the occasional shower. Lyn suggested we go for a walk, something I was certainly up for, but when she proposed trying to make it all the way to Welling, I was a little more apprehensive. I think of Welling as miles away, and usually take the bus; but Lyn wanted to get a special toothpaste from a chemist there, so, after a coffee at the cafe, we set off.

Lyn lead the way, down towards Woolwich, then on to the common. Whenever we felt a few spots of rain we took cover, but even so, in the clean crisp air it felt great to be out. We then headed down Shooters Hill Road, so evocative of it’s long history. Along there, you pass many historic buildings – old churches and converted asylums – which just make you wonder about the past.

We made good progress, and our little adventure down the ancient Roman road did not take as long as either of us expected. After a while, with a wood on one side of the road and a golf course and small farm on the other, it felt as if we were heading out into the countryside. Memories flooded back of the walks I used to take in cheshire, up Giantswood Lane, and it felt wonderful. In that moment, all I felt was peace and happiness. I was heading through a lovely area, with my girlfriend, to whom this type of exploration is still quite new. Paths and winding roads lead off to one side and the other, begging further examination.

We got to Welling in really good time, and I made a mental note to head that way again soon. We passed good old Welling Mobility, shut by that time on a Saturday, and found the shop L wanted to visit. Luckily, they had the toothpaste she was after, and we bought some. By then, though, it was already getting a bit late, so rather than try to come back by chair we got busses. But now we know what wonderful walks are to be had that way, I think we’ll soon be heading there again. There is plenty to explore: roads and buildings which caught my eye and made me curious. Now we know how feasible heading that way is, I’m just itching to strike out for Welling again.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to play Pac Man around your home town? Now you can. Some bright spark at Google has had the great idea of creating a Pac Man mode for their maps. Go here to see. I think it’s a genius idea, and can see myself having hours of fun on it. This sort of quirky use of technology really appeals to my sense of humour, and brought a huge smile to my face when I came across it yesterday.

I suddenly have another reason to look forward to the 2024 Olympic games. According to this bbc article, the ICC now intends to start lobbying for twenty20 to be included as an olympic sport. I think that’s a great idea. To be honest, the other forms of cricket are a bit too long for a multisport event like the olympics, but the faster, quicker pace of the limited overs format make it much more suitable. I really hope the IOC give it the go ahead. Whoever is selected as host, Paris or LA, it would just be fantastic to see cricket played at an olympic games.

There’s a hell of a lot of anger in my heart right now. Any time I hear anything about Brexit, I get so worked up it scares me. I shake with rage and frustration; I hate it. I want to be my happy, optimistic self again, but it feels like that can’t happen because the country I love has descended into utter stupidity. The only solution is to keep busy and take my mind off it.

And I am busy. These days, I have so much going on, I barely know where to begin. Last night I went to a film festival organisation meeting. I now have a screening in the park to organise, including venue, projector, seating… I have every confidence I can do it – I just need to get cracking.

On top of that, there’s a film at school I need to get going with, as well as the exhibition. They’re both well on their way though, so I’m pretty confident I’ll see them through. Busy though I am, I’m more confident than ever. In fact, when I focus on my day to day life, I become much more cheerful and positive. That, then, is the solution: keep my mind on the tasks at hand, because the second I start to think about events in the wider world, things suddenly seem much darker.

I won’t repeat what I wrote here yesterday, save to say that I am very, very angry indeed with what is happening today. I had been slowly calming down over Brexit, coming to a form of acceptance. But today I cannot accept it. Today, utter stupidity has prevailed. From now on, our rights will be eroded, greed will prevail, and tolerance and respect will be replaced with prejudice and barbarism. My blood boils at the thought that this could be allowed to happen. How could the people of this country be so fucking stupid?

I just came across a clip of farage on his LBC radio show, and quickly felt a wave of pure, intense anger. He was trying to sound all peaceful and accommodating, asking what it would take for us Remainers to accept the result of the referendum, but it struck me as a total insult. How dare this utter embarrassment to humanity be so patronising, condescending and arrogant? It was like he was trying to shut us up like wayward kids, resisting their parents’ judgement. I instantly flew off the handle; I felt a white-hot rage and had to go out into the Garden to calm myself down. I almost had an absence, I was so furious.

How dare he? The referendum was won on a lie, based on the slimmest of majorities. Our human rights and standing in the world are at risk because of it. Farage was making out it was all cut and dry, over with, and we should all accept the result. The hell I will. Thhat would give him and capitalists like him carte blanche to screw us all. I will not let this xenophobe get his way and turn this country into a free-market hell.

My rages scare me. For a few moments, all I feel is anger; I genuinely want to kill someone. Yet I’m not the only one who feels so angry. While the way I express it is connected with my cerebral palsy, the anger and worry I feel, the frustration that so many people allowed themselves to be mislead, is genuine. Others feel it too – we saw it with the protests on saturday. The anger is building, and that’s what farage fears and is trying to quell: he does not want brexit to be reversed.

But it must be; it will be. Brexit is utterly wrong for this country, and must be fought. More and more of us are waking up to the fact that it was a travesty of democracy built upon the lies of xenophobes. That’s why we refuse to ”respect the result”, and why we refuse to be talked down to by an utter disgrace of a human being who should be in jail, not on the radio.

I was thinking about the film I mention here a few days ago, and about how it might be good to use in my exhibition. I think it illustrates the ideas I’ll be trying to get at rather well: being disabled does not mean one is a burden, by any means. The problem was, the sound on that recording was awful; using it for a proper screening just would not be an option. There was just one solution: make another version.

Thus on Saturday, with the very generous help of Paul and Matt, we got filming. It didn’t take very long, but I think you’ll agree that the new version, which you can see here, is much better. It’s also more technically complex: rather than doing it in one long shot, this time we actually did a bit of editing and camera work. Matt was a great help with that. I’m very pleased with the outcome, and can’t wait to show the guys at school.

Thousands marched to oppose brexit yesterday, but it got hardly a mention on the news last night. I would have liked to have gone, but was busy filming (more on this soon). More and more people are waking up and realising they were deceived, lied to and manipulated into voting Leave. Brexit is not the will of the people and must – [b]MUST[/b] – be stopped. I know the outists won the referendum, but how can this continue? How can the tories plough on with Brexit, amid ever-growing opposition and as the country descends further and further into intolerance, xenophobia and a form of fascism? The mainstream media is currently ignoring the protests, trying to turn a blind eye to the anger; but before long it will realise that this is a problem which cannot be ignored. The people of this country were swindled by liars last June; it is now essential that it is restored to the right path – outward-looking, internationalist, tolerant – before it is too late.

Spring is here, and summer’s near,

The sky so clear, with so much cheer.

Grass so green, wind so still;

A day ahead waiting to fill.

Life’s so ripe on days like these;

Like corn in a field and fruit on the trees.

Spring is come and summer near,

Winter banished with all its fear.

Lyn and I took a walk down to the Thames yesterday evening, where she took this stunning image on her Ipad. I love the way Lyn captures the calm of the evening, in contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city behind.

[img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/river.jpg[/img]

Amid all it’s current strife, there truly is beauty in the world – you just have to look for it.

Yesterday for me was quite a nice day. I did my usual volunteer work at school, then, around three, went to meet Sharon for a coffee in the park. We planned to meet there yesterday a week or so ago, but we hadn’t met up in three or four weeks so it was good to see her. Dan came too, and Lyn joined us there shortly after, so for a while the little place was crammed with wheelchairs.

It was a really nice afternoon. We discussed this and that. For a while, Dan and Sharon were discussing all the ins and outs of running a powerchair football club, and it was quite fascinating to hear them talk about the politics involved. That sport is far more serious and complex than I thought: for me, it is just something fun to do on Saturdays, but from the way my friends were talking yesterday afternoon, I glimpsed a far more severe, competitive and even cut-throat side to it.

We had got there about three, but in winter, before the clocks go forward, the cafe closes about four, so our gathering ended all too soon. Sharon made her way off, agreeing to see us again next week. Dan’s train home, however, wasn’t until about five, so we all came back here to continue chatting. Dan is a very nice guy: it amuses us both that we went to the same special school in Cheshire, and ended up meeting again down here. We discussed Hebden a bit yesterday, swapping opinions of old teachers.

Then dan looked at his phone, probably just to check the time, and said that something was happening up in Westminster. I came here, into my office, to look at my computer, and saw the news. It would seem that yesterday wasn’t such a good day after all. I felt the usual sense of bewilderment and concern one usually feels when you see news like that: you can’t do anything about it; information is sparse, so all you can really do is sit back and wait for news to trickle in. The news was showing streets I now know quite well, full of police, emergency vehicles and frightened, bewildered people. On the whole, though, I’m just relieved that it wasn’t far, far worse.

Shortly after that, Dan set off back to his place. He was worried about how this incident would effect public transport, but I checked a few hours later that he had got home safely. This is the sort of thing one has to expect when you live in a city like london. This isn’t rural cheshire. As vast and dynamic as london is, the metropolis also has it’s dark side.

Things have suddenly got rather busy. As of yesterday, I have a presentation to prepare, a film to shoot and an exhibition to organise, as well as a few other, smaller projects I’m working on. I’m beginning to feel a bit swamped. The problem is, I keep making all these suggestions, telling people I can do all these things, and I don’t notice the work piling up. At the same time, I feel more confident than ever. I know I can do it, and that when it is done, it will be awesome. It’s just a case of knuckling down and getting on with it, so on that note, I better get back to work.

I think I just need to direct everyone here today. Now you too can have the biggest lie you can think of printed on the side of a red bus. At least it shows that, despite how screwed up things are getting, people can still have a sense of humour.

I took myself to see Logan yesterday. I had heard a lot of good stuff about it, and wanted to check it out. After all, how can I call myself a cinephile if I never go to the cinema? However, I found myself mildly disappointed rolling home from the Odeon yesterday. I found the film over long and drawn out. While it is true that the film takes the X-Men franchise in a new direction, the problem I had with it was that it was still trying to be an action film. It was as if it could not decide what it was: psychological drama about the passage of time, or superhero action film. Don’t get me wrong,there are some very good aspects to this film, and very good performances, yet by the end I felt it dragged on a bit, with action sequences seemingly thrown in for the sake of it. Perhaps that was my fault – perhaps I should have refreshed my memory of the other films in the franchise before I set off. Nonetheless, I felt it didn’t quite live up to the marvellous reviews I had heard.

While I can’t claim to be a Chuck Berry fan in particular, to mark the sad death of one of rock’s all time greats, I think I’ll just direct you here. Like Hendrix, Berry was a master of the great southern guitar riff which just gets your blood pumping. I love it. Although he had a good innings, Berry will be missed.

I got quite an early birthday present last night. Lyn had a performance – her first in a while – up at the magnificent Institute of Contemporary Art, on the Mall. It was with Drake Music, and was a great evening. The disability music scene seems to be thriving at the moment, and it was great to watch all the diverse acts.. Lyn performed with three or four other people she has been rehearsing with for a few months, and got a great round of applause. I really love to watch L perform, do her thing and get the appreciation she deserves for it. We got back just after twelve, tired but happy. It was a great start to my birthday weekend; I just wonder what today will bring.

Rather depressing though it is, I think I need to flag this neat summing up of the current political status quo up. It does not make for cheerful viewing, but I think Owen Jones is spot on: this country is in it’s worst state since the second world war. We were fooled into leaving Europe; xenophobia is rampant; the economy is screwed and the UK will soon break up. On that note, I just want to say that I now fully support Scottish independence – I’ve done a complete 180 on the subject. I used to oppose it because I thought staying united and solid was best, but what right have I to now demand the Scots, who voted Remain, stay united with a bunch of inward-looking, xenophobic morons? I now say goodbye Scotland, and good luck.

Thus the uk is in a pretty dire situation, and I am very, very worried about it. Like many people I’m furious about what happened last year. More to the point, I’m worried about the future: I’m worried about my rights; I’m worried about this country being turned into a free market free-for all; I’m worried about everything. If only there was some way to undo the damage.

I was in the bath earlier, where I got around to doing some thinking. It seems to me that the brexit vote and election of trump etc could largely be a matter of intellectual disenfranchisement. More and more of us these days have degrees; there are more bachelors about then ever before. Half of us now belong to a club, real or perceived, from which the other half was excluded. Those who went to university have become something like a bourgeoisie, which those who did not go see as looking down at them. Brexit was a direct rebellion against that devision. Fed up of being told what to do by those they saw as patronising and arrogant, many people did precisely the opposite. Thus I think there is a link between the increase in graduates and brexit. People felt left behind by the revolution in higher education; they felt so bitter that they deliberately ignored the warnings and did the opposite of what the people who personified this devision were telling them. They chose instead to listen to people like Farage and Trump who claimed to be ‘on their level’, who cottoned on to this sense of being left behind and wariness about education/graduates and used it for their own perverse ends, not realising they were being manipulated.

I’m afraid to say that my abstinence from coffee has already come to an end. I just couldn’t help it – the urge to have a brew or two was just too much. It didn’t seem to affect my sleep, though, so I suppose it’s okay – one or two quick pick-me-ups during the day can’t hurt. I suppose you could say I gave in, but what the hey. Mind you, that certainly won’t be the case with alcohol: I’m quite proud to say that I’ve not touched a drop of drink for eight or nine months, and feel so much better for it. Thus, while I gave in to caffeine, beer is another situation altogether. Whereas a coffee with friends in the park is quite civilised, there’s nothing civil about rolling home drunk.

I just came across this, a bbc article about spin-offs, ranking three or four of them from best to worst. Television spin-off shows seem all the rage these days: Friends spin-off joey didn’t do very well, but the newly announced Big Bang Theory spin-off Young Sheldon will soon be all the rage. It’s quite an interesting phenomenon, really: rather than coming up with a completely fresh idea, or continuing with a scenario or narrative as it is, producers take one character or aspect of a show and enlarge it into it’s own text. Some might call that lazy program making. Then again, two of my favourite shows ever, Star Trek The next Generation and Star Trek Deep Space Nine, are spin-offs, so I can’t complain. I suppose it’s a way of breathing new life into something which, while still valuable, had run it’s course; a way to take something in a new direction.Either that, or it’s a way for tv execs to squeeze more money out of an old idea.

I just got in from my final session at Lifeline in Woolwich. I remember a morning in late summer last year, when I had got so drunk the night before that Lyn suggested i find help. I had to agree, and got Googling. That’s how I found Lifeline, who got me onto the 1000 Londoners project. It’s incredible really: quite by accident, and through the utter stupidity of drinking too much, I found myself given the opportunity to make films – exactly what I really wanted to do.

Through them I made Matt, a film I’m very proud of. I then went on to help with a bigger project where people with Cannabis problems tell their stories. It’s for use by doctors etc, to warn people of the risks. That’s what we finished today. It felt great to be working on something, contributing to something. More to the point, I feel I’ve made a lot of good friends and contact on this project, most notably Matt, whom I mention here.

We intend to continue working together, and I hope that we do. We have one or two plans in the pipeline already. This project, I feel, began something which I really want to cling on to and move forward. Since graduating in 2014, I was sort of left twiddling my thumbs, and needed to fill the gap. This project has filled that gap amicably. The risk now is letting it reopen, but now I’ve tasted a bit of actual filmmaking, I have no intention of allowing that to happen. This particular project may have come to an end, but I have a feeling it will now lead to even bigger, better things.

I just came across this fascinating opinion piece in The Guardian, which I think is well worth flagging up. It points out the strange convergence of far right and far left, the rise of illiberalism, and the way in which people like Farage and Trump are increasingly stigmatising what they call ”the mainstream” as some kind of bogeyman. I’ve been fretting over something along those lines for a while now. As the article points out, with the rise of the internet, we are less susceptible to being manipulated by big news corporations than ever before. The exchange of information is freer than ever, so the concept of a dominant mainstream trying to control us all is risible. Yet these people try to make a bogeyman out of it, and would have us believe that they are the ones telling the truth, rebelling against a monolith that keeps it from us.

It is quite obvious how this situation came about: unable to get their extreme views airtime because they are so vile to most people, the people on the political extremes have set about trying to stigmatise the mainstream which has rejected them. Most people in the media are well educated and can easily see the folly of such extremism, so the extremists are trying to find a way around them. How telling that they also try to stigmatise the education system and ”experts” as being part of this monolithic, oppressive, mainstream conspiracy? Isn’t it clear that they are the ones trying to manipulate us, trying to get us to turn against fact-checked, trustable and objective sources of information in order that we listen to their bile? The problem is, it seems to be working; people are mistaking it for some kind of countercultural independence and falling for it. These days, the concept of ”the truth” is more up for grabs than ever; so people are being persuaded by those who claim they are being manipulated, but are, in fact, the ones doing the manipulating.

Given the views these people have towards human rights, equality and so on, I find it all very worrying. But then, how do you know I’m not an agent of the mainstream, posing as a disabled blogger, trying to get you to turn against the people rebelling against them?