Following up on what I was saying yesterday, I just found this short bbc video juxtaposing footage of the debate in parliament yesterday with clips of Trump at one of his rallies. I watched part of the debate, and found it fascinating. It was reasonable and reserved; most of the speakers thought Trump was a total arse (one even calling him a wazzock at one point, which I love) but saying we could not ban him from the country for x, y and z reasons. I found myself wondering how much coverage this debate was getting in the states, if any. Here we brits were, debating the merits of banning a leading presidential candidate in the ‘mother of all parliaments’, in the most refined, civilised language – did the americans even notice? Would they care? I’d bet they wouldn’t give two hoots what happened in Westminster Yesterday, but just got on with their flag-waving as Trump’s increasingly fascist-looking gravy-train rumbled on.

MPs will ‘debate’ whether to ban Donald Trump from the country. I put the word debate in inverted commas, of course, because it isn’t really a debate. How could they possibly ban him? The guy’s a jackass, but that’s no reason to ban him from the UK. There’s also a chance that he’ll be the next president of America: if, FSM forbid, he is, such a ban might prove very problematic. I loathe Trump: I think him no better than a reactionary blogger* or talk radio host, spouting baseless opinion after baseless opinion, assuming an air of authority while knowing absolutely nothing about what he’s talking about, but that’s no reason to ban him from the country. This afternoon’s debate is a foregone conclusion, then; as much as we’d all like to teach the p’tahk a lesson, we all know what the MPs will decide.

*I am fully aware of the irony of me saying this.

It’s from a few days ago, but I think I’ll link to this Mirror story today. It’s about a couple who both have quite severe CP raising a baby. Of curse, it’s the type of story editors shove in papers to make readers go ‘aww’, but I can’t help but think it’s pretty cool. Despite doubts from doctors – there were probably many who thought the baby should be taken into care – Sarah Redmile and her boyfriend James Ellis are now successfully caring for their baby girl. In the article, they explain how they work together to overcome the problems of parenting. It’s another perfect example of how, with adequate support and enough determination, we cripples are just as capable as anyone else. Mind you, now that I think about it, I have no idea how I would go about trying to change a nappy.

Putting my geeky Bond-fan back on today, while I wasn’t that unimpressed with Spectre (I need to rewatch it, mind you) I’ll think I’ll flag this rather astute, observant video up explaining why the film was flawed. The guy in it makes quite a few good points, such as shoehorning Blofeld in as the puppetmaster behind everything in the last three films was simply lazy story telling. I agree with much of what he says, although after the excellence that was Skyfall, any follow up was always going to come in for criticism. The question is, where do they go with the Bond series now? The guy in the video says a line must be drawn under Spectre, and everyone should pretend it never happened. But I can’t see that happening: Spectre set story-arcs in motion which cannot now be ignored. Yes, when you think about it, Spectre is quite a flawed film, but I think you can salvage quite a bit from it, and I still think Daniel Craig is the best actor for that job.

I have stopped watching question time as it just made me shout, scream and put my fist through the tv every Thursday evening. It seems I was right to do so, as I just came across this Huffington Post report on last night’s program. Kelvin Mckenzie apparently thinks we are now ”better off than ever” under the tories, and that rather than struggling, most Britons are ”thriving”. How that piece of filth can say such things is beyond me. Day after day I see reports of the suffering the tories are causing; by some counts, the death toll is sickening. But Mckenzie and the vermin like him can blind their selves to that; as long as they are okay and don’t have to pay much tax, the rest of us can starve for all they care. On top of that, the scumbag had the gall to say those who speak out against the suffering the Tories are causing aren’t living in the real world! How arrogant can this man be? If you ask me, that piece of shit should apologise for the hurt and offence his moronic comments caused last night.

A couple of days ago I had a meeting over in Woolwich with a lady from UEL. She wanted to interview me about how I use my Ipad as a communication aid, particularly with regard to my volunteer work at school. I am apparently to be some kind of case study in a EU-funded project. The meeting went well; I explained that, before Lyn introduced me to Ipads, I used to use a Lightwriter, but I now find Ipads much more versatile and useful. It’s not perfect as a communication aid, but the fact that I can do so much more with it, from checking my email to updating my blog, means it has many more advantages.

She then made an observation which really stuck in my mind: one advantage of the Ipad is that it is ‘normal’ – it is a tool everyone else uses, disabled or not. You don’t stand out using one. That chimed with me, but it also reminded me of a debate I once had with a fellow communication aid user. They stubbornly objected to me using the Ipad as a VOCA, saying it is better to use specialist equipment. The more people us Ipads, they reasoned, the more likely Lightwriters and Dynovoxes will stop being made. It was as if they wanted the specialist equipment; almost as if they wanted to stand out. Thus the contrast between the two positions struck me as odd.

The logic is, of course, faulty: certain people will always need specialised equipment, so I think there is little chance that using Ipads will lead to their demise. It boils down to personal preference and need. I see room for both solutions. I think there was an element of their trying to dictate to me what equipment I should and should not use. To some disabled people, such equipment has become woven into ideas about identity; they want it to be special because it makes them special. But if, like me, you just want to be normal, why not use something everyone else uses? That, to me, is the real advantage of the Ipad.

I just got wind that MPs are expected to vote later on the idea of England adopting an official national anthem. While Scotland and Wales both have their own anthems, England just has God Save the queen, but that denotes Britain as a whole. While they’ll probably be boring and go with something like Jerusalem, for what it’s worth I think the English anthem should either be this or this.

Rather cooly, Jonathan White, whom I know from South Cheshire College, has won Tripadvisor’s Photographer of the Year award. That means he is the top photographic contributor to the world’s biggest travel website – I’m impressed! Mind you, given he has posted 30,000 pictures to the site it’s not that surprising. Jon was my PA when we went to Berlin in 2004, and he was keen to take photos even then.

You would have thought that someone like me would have paid more attention to david Bowie. Given my taste in clothes and attitudes towards gender, you would have thought I would reference bowie regularly. Watching the news articles and tv programs about him last night, I began to wonder how this man crept under my radar. How did I never notice David Bowie? He stood for and encapsulated pretty much everything I stand for and try to say in my art – gender play, and the challenging of traditional gender boundaries. The truth is I just had him down in my mind as some old eighties pop singer, and never stopped to consider what he was saying. I’m rather embarrassed to admit that now. Well, now I know a bit more about this fascinating character, it’s time to put that right; it’s just a shame it took the announcement of his death for me to become aware of him.

I know I shouldn’t find something so tragic so amusing, but I just read that a radio announcer for Heart FM this morning accidentally announced the death of David CaMoron rather than David Bowie. She said ”David Cameron has died,” before quickly correcting herself and replacing the Prime Minister’s name with David Bowie. Had I heard that rather than seeing the sad news on the bbc website, I’d have been rather disappointed. Bowie was a great musician; I’d frankly rather have him still about than that insult to humanity CaMoron any day.

I think I ought to flag this story up about a woman in america who is calling for changes to railway crossings. ”A Minneapolis woman is calling for safety changes at light rail intersections to better accommodate people in wheelchairs after a man crossing the tracks in his wheelchair was struck and killed by a train.” There is a level crossing just down the road from us. Although I rarely use it as there is a perfectly good tunnel under the tracks nearby, this has always been a fear of mine. It seems I was right to avoid level crossings; they are dangerous for wheelchair users. Perhaps after a tragedy like this they will be made a bit safer.

My jaw dropped and is still on the floor, having just come across this, the Conservative Disability Group. It was mentioned in a DNS article, but I am frankly flabbergasted that such a group exists. The hypocrisy is staggering. At a time when CaMoron and co are causing so much misery to disabled people, this group defends their actions. How can anyone be so treacherous? They claim their aim is to ” promote equal opportunities and independence for disabled people.To enhance the Party’s understanding of disability issues and to offer advice and information to Party members”, but they are obviously being used by the tories in order to add some kind of legitimacy to their actions, enabling them to claim they have support from within the disability community. Thus members of the CDG are puppets of our oppressors, collaborators who put their own interests above those of other disabled people. Can they not see what the tories are doing to ‘us’, or do they simply not care? Their blatant treachery and selfishness horrifies and enrages me.

People with disabilities really are suffering under the Tories, but CaMoron has dismissed a UN investigation into it’s human rights abuses as ”not all it’s cracked up to be”. For him to be so flippant about something so serious appalls me. He and his government have caused the deaths of thousands, yet he goes about dismissing any criticism with an ”I know best” attitude. The air of superiority he has makes me begrudge him his every breath. He seems to think he is a great man born to rule, when in fact he is a criminal who should be tried for cries against humanity.

I went to Stratford yesterday, mostly just to look around, but also to get my own copy of The Hobbit. It all went quite smoothly, and I decided to walk back from North Greenwich rather than take the bus. On the way, coming past some houses around a square, something suddenly whizzed by me. It looked like a mobility scooter, the lightweight type I usually disdain, but it was making a noise like a motorbike. Intrigued, I followed it round a corner, and found the lads who were piloting it. Someone had obviously taken a bog standard mobility scooter and attached something like a lawnmower engine onto it. I asked how fast it could go, and the lads said about ten miles an hour – probably about right, given the rate at which it zoomed past me. I was impressed, and part of me longed to ask to have a go, but I thought I better not. It looked like a very nice piece of engineering by whoever had made it. I usually hate scooters, but I’d be prepared to make an exception or that one.

I just read that Donald Trump has threatened to withhold his £500m ‘investment’ if he is barred from entering the uk. You may recall that a petition was launched to bar trump after he proposed that muslims should be barred from entering america. Now the revolting little p’tahk has retaliated, effectively trying to blackmail the government. Well, he can go fuck himself if you ask me. This investment he seems to think is oh so important to the uk economy is actually a golf course – the piece of shit actually blocked a wind farm from being built nearby because he thought it would spoil it’s image. While it’s true that the moment we prevent anyone from entering the country we stoop to his level, Trump is a disgusting human being, a bully too used to getting his own way. This attempt to blackmail us is perfect evidence of that: it betrays an overprivileged man, utterly self-important, who thinks his own needs and wants come first. Trump sickens me; I say screw him and his golf course.

I saw Lyn had noted the following on her facebook page earlier. I think it’s quite an astute observation, and well worth echoing on here.

[quote=”Lyn”]we. Were watching David Atinborough earlier and the cat was trying to get the fish on the TV. We were laughing how stupid he was because he couldn’t tell what reality was. Of [course] we know better, don’t we? Or are we just as stupid as the cat?

[/quote]

Mind you, she could be trying to tell me that I should watch less tv.

I think I’ll flag this Huffington Post article up, which in turn links to a Channel Four News interview with Neil McCabe, a pro-gun lobbyist trying to defend america’s love of guns. I actually saw the interview on tv last night, and it was cringeworthy telly of the best kind: Snow absolutely destroyed the moron, throwing the statistics at him. asking him whether he was proud or ashamed that so many people die due to gun violence in america. To watch McCabe trying to defend his position was an insult to one’s intelligence; he was saying things like ”it’s just part of life”, and spouting the usual defences such children spout when adults try to take away dangerous toys. Frankly, I don’t understand why these people can’t see the sense of trying to prevent gun deaths. Is it some kind of cultural thing? Or are they stupid enough to think their right to bear arms outranks the right of innocent people to live without fear of being suddenly shot by some nutter? How can they blind themselves to logic?

When I was up in cheshire, my parents and I did something which some people might think was slightly strange. My Dad first read the Hobbit to me and my brothers when was eight or nine, and since then I’ve always loved Tolkien. I fell in love with his stories, as well as dad’s deep, clear reading voice. Since then, Tolkien’s work has always been something dad and I have shared; it is something which bonds us, and brings us together. While I was up in cheshire, then, we took the opportunity to watch all three Hobbit films together, on consecutive days.

It was an amazing experience. My parents have a new giant flat-screen tv. Sat there, in the darkened living room, I could really immerse myself in the films, very much like at the cinema. Every afternoon over three days, we put one on: this meant that the story remained fresh in our minds, so you could really get into it. It was lovely to reacquaint myself with Bilbo Baggins and company, not far from where I first met them all those years ago. What Peter Jackson achieved in adapting both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings to film is an astounding piece of cinematic art. Mind you, I thought the hobbit suffers somewhat for having been made after the lord of the rings, as there were too many references to what came after the events of the book. Jackson constantly alluded to LOTR, using the ring verse for example, even though it is supposed to be sixty years in the future. This muddies the narrative, and kind of spoils the overall effect.

Even though the experience was mostly joyous, I must say one or two quite negative things caught my eye as I was watching these films. While I don’t want to write a full review, I think I ought to raise a couple of issues which left a bad taste in my mouth. Firstly, I noticed these films present a highly problematic construction of race: they use the idea of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ races. Of course, this is one of the major problems with tolkien’s writing, but the films reuse his idea that some races can be good – the elves, with their aryan overtones – and some can be innately bad, like the orcs. I would have thought any contemporary adaptation would have watered this down or added some form of explanation: such implicit racism must surely be questioned.

Similarly, I noticed many of the orcs in the battle scenes were using prosthetics, and had had an arm or leg replaced with a hammer or axe. Of course, this is supposed to make them look more gruesome and menacing, but it sends out a very destructive message about disability. It suggests that users of prosthetics are somehow evil or bad, an age-old formulation of disability which goes back to Ahab and beyond. Surely we should be beyond such disablist paradigms by now.

Quite major though they are, these two issues aside, I thoroughly enjoyed watching these films. Dad had put off watching them so he could watch them with me, and it felt very special indeed to watch them with him. I may now have a Masters in film, and I can analyse film till the cows come home, but to share such a story with people you love is surely what film was created for.

I go home again today. It has been a great week; a visit to my old family house was long overdue, and I think they will happen a bit more often from now on. It felt great to be back here, but I’m also looking forward to getting back to charlton this afternoon. Being stuffed full of mums delicious cooking is one thing, returning to the woman you love in the greatest city on earth quite another. As much as I love this old place, I feel freer down in London, and I daresay mum and dad enjoy being boy-free too. Soon, then, I’ll exchange the green fields of Cheshire for the concrete and steel of the metropolis; having visited my old life, it’s time to return to the new one.

Not far from where I am now sitting, at the other end of the landing in my parents resource room, is a set of documents I find remarkable. Between books by Barack Obama and Alistair Cook (the broadcaster, not the cricketer) is a collection of three theseses: Marks and Luke’s PhD, and my masters. They are all bound in leather with gold writing, standing side by side. I find it a remarkable sight; how many other families can have such a collection? Of course, they are each on vastly different subjects and are different lengths, and mine is ‘only’ a masters whereas my brothers’ are doctorates, but that collection is testimony to what my brothers and I have achieved. More to the point, though, it is testimony to my parents, and te remarkable job they did bringing us up. The three of us have all now followed our separate paths, but we all know we have the unfailing, unquestioning support of the best parents in the world. Without that support, none of those theseses would be there.

My parents and I just got back from a drive. I requested one: I wanted to refamiliarise myself with the roads around this part of Cheshire. They were once so familiar, but today seemed like something out of m y long past. I’m now so used to the crowded brick and concrete of London that the winding lanes had an almost uncanny feel to them. We first went to Macclesfield, then, upon my request, over to Alsager: I wanted to see my old university campus again. This proved a mistake: the place where I got my degree, where I made so many friends, where I first met Lyn properly, the place where I became whi I am now, now lies derelict and forgotten. Man met has moved out some time ago, and since then the campus has been left to go to run..

We drove on heading to swettenham, then coming home. Driving down those lanes again felt good, like meeting an old friend after many years. I remember heading down those lanes in my power chair. Yet I still have the fallawn sight of campus, once so full of life but now a ghost town, in the back of my mind; I suspect it will be there for quite some time.

This is just a quick entry to wish everyone a happy new year. My New Year’s Eve was spent with my parents, Luke and Yan here in congleton. I was introduced to an interesting strategy game, Settlers of Catan: at first I took it to be a simple board game, but after watching my family play it for a while (albeit in between chatting to lyn on my iPad), I became intrigued. It’s a game I will have to investigate, and perhaps introduce Lyn to. Supreme strategist that she is, I suspect it could take her fancy. The rest of my evening was spent drinking rather too much beer (time for another beer break, I think!) watching films and keeping in touch with lyn.

In all, not a bad evening. This trip ‘home’ is one I’ve needed to take for a while. Getting here took a bit of coordination, but it was worth it, if just to see the old family home. This ever changing yet unchanged place is my anchor. Life is awesome with Lyn, and we do so much cool stuff together, but it’s good to know this place is still here. Now, though, I’m off to find out more about Settlers of Catan.

I’m now quite used to living in a metropolis, in one of the biggest, greatest and most culturally diverse cities on earth; the worlds first and thus far only three-Olympic city. It is quite a shock to my system, then, to return to the town where I was born. We just got in from a walk, and, by and large, congleton is just as I remember it. Of course much as changed; new buildings have come up all over the place, most noticeably housing. Yet it seems to retain the essence of the place I always knew; the essence of a sleepy old nineteenth century market and mill town, provincial and stuck in its ways. I cannot help feeling in two minds about it: a small, overly nostalgic part of me, faced with memories associated with every street, says this is where I belong. But another part of me replies ‘not any more’. This is the place of my childhood and adolescence, yet time never halts. Part of me still loves this quiet provincial place, but now I have tasted the wider world, I thirst for more. Walking past the old daneside theatre just now, for example, I couldn’t help remarking to myself that Monty Python could never have performed there.

As I though I would, I woke up this morning not quite recognising where I was, but then I remembered. I was here, again, in the old family home; the house I was born in, and where I grew up. Truth be told, it feels wierd to be back here: everything has changed, and nothing has. The kitchen has a new suite, yet the old table I ate so many breakfasts and dinners at growing up is still there. My parents have redecorated various rooms, but the piano I taught myself to play the themes from Mash and James Bond on still stands in its place in the dining room. This, then, is he house I remember, homely and warm; a constant throughout all my adventures down in the metropolis. And, as much as I love my life in London, and although my visit will be fairly brief, it feels great to be back here.

I’m off back up north again today, just for a few days. Tonight, all being well, I’ll be sleeping in my old bedroom. It will probably feel weird to wake up back there tomorrow morning, and I must admit I feel rather apprehensive about it. I keep reminding myself everything is ok; Lyn will still be here when I get back next week. Besides, a visit ‘home’ is long overdue: it has been ages since I visited the old family house, or spent any considerable time with my parents. When I think about it that way, I’m quite looking forward to it. A walk around Congleton town centre would be good to, just to see what has changed during my five years in the big city.

I went to see The Force Awakens yesterday afternoon. It’s one of those films which, like it or not, Star Wars fan or not, one has to go watch. Believe it or not, it isn’t half bad. To my surprise, yesterday afternoon I found myself watching quite a decent film, one which I found myself getting into. Of course, I don’t know how much detail I should go into here, not wanting to spoil it for anyone else, but incredibly, Lucas and Abrams seem to have pulled it off: they have given us another episode of a story I, like everyone else, had assumed had been completed; one that doesn’t feel ‘tacked on’, but fits with the originals, and in a way enhances them. It felt great yesterday afternoon to become reacquainted with characters first ‘met’ as a child, and seeing what became of them. The first shot of the Millennium Falcon had me squealing with joy. Thus it seems that I was wrong: there is a need for new Star Wars films; I should not have been so hasty to poo-poo the idea. This wasn’t a continuation of a story just for the sake of it; nor was it the kids film I feared it would be.Star Wars is back, it seems, and jolly good thing too. And this is only the beginning: of course, given that this is only the beginning ant TFA leaves the door open for a continuation, I think we can now look forward to quite a few Star Wars film to come.

I think I’ll share this great picture, taken on christmas day, with you. Lovely, isn’t it? [img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/christmas table.jpg[/img]

What could be better than a great meal with the person you love?

I am currently watching a program about Dad’s Army on the BBC. I was just thinking: in a way, Dad’s Army could be said to be the british MASH. Of course, in many ways they are completely different, one British one American, yet they are both comedic reactions to war. They both expose it’s futility and absurdity. One is set in Korea, the other in World War Two, but the question occurs: could dads army and MASH be saying the same thing? As a student of culture, that is an intriguing question. Could they, in their own ways, both be reacting to war in the same way? After all, how can one react to the absurdity of war other than with more absurdity?

I would just like to report that I had a very merry christmas day. While I wouldn’t call it quiet due to the number of people in the house, it was fairly relaxed and chilled. Lyn, of course, supplied the music, while Marta cooked us an outstanding (vegetarian) christmas dinner. Dom and Paul were here too, and we all had an excellent time. I received some great presents, and I think Lyn liked the clothes I got her too. Thanks to Skype, we also had a good chat with my parents. In all it was a great day, a day of friends, family, peace and happiness; the type of christmas which, when you think about it the day after, makes you realise how truly lucky you are.

There is a bit of a Christmas present here. After forty-odd years, John cleese has announced he is going to revive Basil Fawlty. He’s apparently going to reprise the famous scene where Basil attacks a car with a tree branch for a Specsavers advert. While not quite as awesome as when we got wind of the Python reunion, anything concerning the revival of a comedy legend like Basil fawlty is worth keeping an eye on.

I just read that the insult to humanity currently calling himself our prime minister has ”urged people to reflect on Britain’s Christian values in his Christmas message.” At a time when use of foodbanks is at an all-time high, and people across the country are truly struggling due to tory cuts, to have to swallow such sanctimonious shit from this etonian p’tahk is galling. CaMoron goes on: ”Throughout the United Kingdom, some will spend the festive period ill, homeless or alone,” – yeah! In large part as a direct result of your policies, mate. How he has the nerve to make such a speech, pretending to champion ‘christian values’ like hope and charity when through his greed-based politics he can leave people to quite literally starve really gets to me. The sheer hypocrisy, the attempt to present himself as someone who cares about anyone other than himself, is almost too much to stomach.

I’m increasingly getting the impression that film, as an art form and industry, is being reduced down to a matter of franchise competition. As I touched upon here a week or so ago, film seems to have become a matter of major series: all the main production companies have their own franchise, and they all vie for the top spot. Every year or two they all bring out new additions to their own pet series, which they hope will secure it at the forefront of popular imagination. Usually they launch a major advertising campaign, trying to ensure their characters are on every happy meal box and sweet wrapper. We’re currently seeing this with star wars: I still think that the only reason George Lucas wanted to make a new star wars ilm is because his franchise was no longer the ‘big daddy’ of film series. Star Wars as a brand had lost it’s dominant place in mainstream culture to things like Lord of the Rings and Harry potter; where, when one thought ‘film’ or ‘cinema’, Star Wars had been one of the first things to come to mind, one now thought of other things. Lucas was desperate to regain that top cultural position for his beloved franchise; that is the only reason why we’re getting new star wars films – Gandalf had shoved Obi Wan Kanobi aside. It’s not about art any more, but competition for cultural dominance between production companies.

You might say that’s always been the way cinema has conducted itself, certainly since 1977; but it seems to be getting worse. More and more this is the paradigm upon which mainstream cinema is based – why else would Warner brothers be making a new film based in the harry potter universe? Film is now a tool production companies use to compete for cultural dominance, to get attention and money. It’s not about storytelling anymore – why else would they continue to make films about characters after their stories have ended? The result is a mess of never ending narratives which rely more and more on cliche. If this gets much worse, film will soon be a matter of complete dross which people will go to because they ”saw the last one”.

I think I’ll just flag this story up, simply because it made my jaw drop as soon as I turned on my computer and checked the bbc website. ” US space company SpaceX has successfully landed an unmanned rocket upright – the first time such a feat has been accomplished.” As a guy who finds parking his wheelchair in the right place a bit hard at times, I find that remarkable. While I’m still not sure if I approve of space exploration being opened up to the free market (yes, competition can drive up standards, but it can also mean corners are cut), we’re certainly seeing a new, exciting era of innovation. This new vertical landing technique will certainly make getting a rocket back to land much safer and easier; when it’s perfected, it could mean rocket ‘turn-round’ becomes much faster, which opens up all kinds of possibilities.

We are now home from Tenerife safe and sound. I can’t resist sharing this brilliant photo with you.

[img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/tennerife 1.jpg[/img]

Such happy pictures, taken on such wonderful trips, only make me want to travel even more.

I can’t remember when I last swam in the sea, but yesterday, supported by John, I had a short paddle in the warm shallow waters of Santa Cruz de Tenerife. I can honestly say it was amazing. It was an astonishing few moments, feeling the Atlantic around my legs; I cannot describe how lovely it felt, watching tropical fish swim nearby. I only spent a few minutes in the water, not wanting to tempt fate, but it was a few moments in a beautiful place I will never forget. We then stayed on the beach until well into the evening, and were treated to a sunset so spectacular that it could only be compared to the one I saw at Uluru: the sky showed us wonderful shades of gold and dark blue which made my jaw drop. It was a wonderful end to a great holiday.

Sat here, in an urban square, this could be anywhere;

The fountain, the sculpture,

All ubiquitous. Standard, save for the odd regional variation.

A square like anywhere;

This square could be anywhere across Europe, Across the world.

But it doesn’t mater, as long as I’m in this square

This square urban anywhere

With you.

I suppose I can be a bit of a child when I’m on holiday; wanting to go here, there and everywhere: ‘Explore, explore, explore!’ I forget that other people might prefer to stay put, content to relax in the hotel room. Yesterday was such a day: I wanted to get out and about when all lyn wanted to do was chill out on our balcony. Truth be told, by around late afternoon I was getting a bit frustrated, wondering why we weren’t doing anything. I’ve always been like that though, and it probably irritated lyn yesterday. In the end, however, it turned out to be quite a great day: we eventually went out in the evening for dinner, and came across a Spanish film crew rehearsing for a live tv show to be broadcast tonight. Sat at a table eating our dinner, we were part of a live studio audience, although I had no idea what was going on. It was quite fascinating though, and I’m really pleased we saw it. It just teaches me that I should be a bit more patient sometimes.

The trees in Tenerife have jumpers, perhaps to keep them warm.

To wrap a tree up in knitwear is definitely not the norm.

But down here in Spain one sees many strange things

All part of the great fun the act of travel brings.

The trees might be in jumpers, but that’s just part of the fun

Part of why we came to this island in the sun.

Knitwear on the plant life might seem a bit queer

But it’s easy to forget, for them, it’s cold this time of year.

It is quite unarguable that film’s biggest franchise is James Bond. No other film series comes close to 007’s fifty year, twenty-four film reign. One suspects other studios will be quite envious of it. What studio executive wouldn’t kill to own a franchise as well established, as much a cultural cornerstone as bond? Could Disney now be using Star Wars to create a similar franchise? Might it now start turning out a new Star Wars film every two years, a la eon with bond? While one can think of quite a few potential contenders for bonds crown – Star Trek, Harry Potter etc – Star Wars has perhaps the best shot of competing with 007. Might disney’s aim, in taking over the Star Wars franchise, now be to create a cultural phenomenon similar to that of bond?

I am sat in the resteraunt area of our hotel, the only place I can get online, sipping coffee and fresh orange juice in the shade. The day is warming up as I watch people come and go, speaking in rapid Spanish to the friendly woman behind the bar. Here and now, in the cool breeze, it’s hard to recall that it’s Christmas and that, back home in London, it’s the depths of winter. Indeed, in this paradise, one can forget winter even exists.