I was probably too bitchy in my entry attacking Paula Peters yesterday. I was concerned that the rather shouty video I had seen of her would give the wrong impression. However, this one is far, far better. It’s a DPAC interview with Miss Peters in which she gives a calm, reasoned assessment of the situation, pointing out that IDS may be gone but the problems the tories have caused for people with disabilities are far from over. She comes across as eloquent and knowledgable – a good person to have on our side.

While I wouldn’t go quite so far, as it’s author does in her closing paragraph, as to muse over whether Duncan-Smith will now join Labour, I’d just like to flag up this rather impressive piece in Welfare Weekly. It examines the possible motives IDS had to resign. While I would not accuse him of dishonesty in what he has been saying since Friday, one gets the impression we’re not getting the whole story. Until now, IDS has been a staunch Thatcherite; he has defended welfare cuts to the hilt, refuting any connection between cuts and suicides. For him to suddenly grow a conscious, own up, and say that what the Tories are doing to disabled people is morally indefensible, seems a bit odd. It would be great if he has had a change of heart, and he’s certainly supplying Labour with plenty of ammo to attack the Tories with; but I just feel there’s more behind this than IDS admits. What that could be – Europe? personal issues with George Osbourne? the desire to abandon a sinking ship – I suppose we can only speculate.

I would just like to direct you here, to a clip of Lyn Jamming on the dockside in Paphos. As I described here, it truly was a beautiful moment as spontaneous melodies drifted into the blue Cypriot sky.

I just came across a video from Channel Four News showing a group of disabled people cheering and glorifying IDS’s resignation, and I must say it left a bad taste in my mouth. While his resignation is a piece of good news, to carry on like these so-called ‘activists’ were doing, saying things like ”We got you IDS, and now we’re gonna get the other tories”, is not the way to conduct ourselves. It frankly made ‘us’ look immature. It was fronted by Paula Peters. I know her: she is a relative newcomer, but seems to be becoming one of these pushy types who thinks she can speak for everyone. The venom in what she was saying did not fit the situation, and made the whole disability community look childish, especially with her rather shallow rhetoric; we should not be talking about ‘getting’ people, like children in a playground. Nor should we be grandstanding right now, but welcoming this news with civility. While this resignation is to be welcomed, to welcome it so childishly gives everyone the wrong impression.

I was just out in my chair. Lyn was still in bed, so I thought I’d leave her be and pop up to Stratford for a walk around the park. I wanted to ponder what to make of IDS’s resignation. On my way there, though, something strange happened. I shared the lift down to the tube with a mother and a pram. The baby in it could not have been more than a year old, but my eyes met with his, and suddenly I felt a strong desire to interact with him, care for him, look after him. There was a deep curiosity in those eyes: I got the feeling that I was the first wheelchair user he’d ever seen, and that he was wondering why this grown up needed a pram too. I felt the need to explain to him, play with him, be a father to him. I don’t think I’d ever felt such a strong paternal pull before; it was a wonderful, soft tender feeling – like snuggling up to Lyn under the duvet and feeling nothing but contentment. Yet the feeling was also tinged with sadness: I know I’ll probably never be a father – how could clumsy old me ever look after something so precious and delicate. That’s why the memory of what I felt in that moment troubles me, because I know that that desire, as strong and tender as it was, can probably never be realised.

Not that I believe in any biblical claptrap, but my friend Helen just made me aware of this. According to medieval scholars working in the twelfth century, the day of creation, the day God supposedly made the world, was march the 18th. Confirmed atheist I might be, but I must say that appeals to my sense of humour: I always suspected there was something special about me, and now I know what it is – I apparently share a birthday with the universe.

Every few seconds today, Facebook keeps telling me that someone has written on my ‘wall’, wishing me happy birthday. So far I have had over fifty messages. It’s strange – I did not realise I was that popular. Then again, a wall message is not like writing a card: it just takes about five seconds, on a website we’re all pretty much constantly on anyway. Nevertheless, it’s the thought that counts, and, looking down the list of names and attaching a face and memory to each, it’s good to realise just how many friends I have.

It is now clearer than ever that the group of people running the country are a bunch of greed-driven psychopaths who do not care about the suffering of others. As long as they can reduce tax for their rich friends, they have no qualm about letting the poorest people in society starve. Yesterday’s budget saw help for disabled people slashed, with many losing as much as fifty pounds a week, the effects being so bad that the webmaster of the tory disability group (can there ever be a greater bunch of traitors?) resigned in disgust. Yet this morning the insults to humanity were trying to defend their actions, with IDS trying to tell us he thought these cuts would somehow help by encouraging people to get jobs. What bull! The psychopath must know the suffering he has caused but carries on, rather like the paedophile who gets a kick out of hearing his young victims scream. I know that simile is a bit extreme, but I think it holds: we are being governed by people of the worst kind; people who think ruling is their birthright, and that they know best. Their goal is a low tax, greed-based economy, and tough luck to everyone who falls by the wayside. Their worldview, their aristocratic patronising attitude, the way they simply dismiss anyone who tries to call them up on their crimes, makes me want to see each and every one of these tory criminals hanged.

ADDENDUM: now that I’ve calmed down, I better clarify that I don’t actually want anyone executed – that would be barbaric. Nonetheless, I certainly hold people like CaMoron, Osborne, IDS and May to now be on a par with criminals of the worst kind.

I sometimes feel a little embarrassed to admit that I took seven years to do my masters, but after reading this Guardian story I feel much better. A woman in france has finally been awarded her PhD after thirty years of trying. ”A woman aged 91 has become one of the oldest people in France to gain a PhD after she completed a thesis that she had begun three decades earlier. Colette Bourlier was awarded the mark of ‘high distinction’ for her work, which she successfully defended on Tuesday before a jury of the University of Franche-Comte in Besancon, eastern France.”

It just goes to confirm one of the biggest lessons I received from doing my Masters: that you must never, ever give up on something, no matter how long it is taking. This story also teaches me not to forget about my own ambition to do a PhD. I think I’m capable of it, and I have a few ideas for one floating around my head; and if Dr. Bourler can pass hers at 91, then I have plenty of time to work on it.

Although I don’t have many details about it, I’d like to flag this up today. My friend Katie is creating a play, Speechless, about a young girl with communication difficulties. She has cerebral palsy, and is infantalised by her parents, but inside she is a rebel trying to get out. It sounds a great premise, and the sort of thing we urgently need to see more of. There are still not enough disabled people in the media, particularly people with communication problems. I hope this play will start to tell ‘our’ side of the story. Kate tells me the process is only just starting, but I really hope it is a success.

I have always loved the sight of the sky at night; it never ceases to fill me with wonder and awe. I remember when I was living up in Alsager, looking up at the stars of an evening on my way back to my room, and having my breath taken by the sheer magnificence of what I saw. Here in London, of course, the stars are largely drowned out by the light pollution, so the view isn’t so good. In Cyprus, though, the view was amazing. I will always remember the night’s sky there: it was so clear that it took your breath; we must have been able to see hundreds, if not thousands, of stars. I was able to make out the constellations (well, those I know) quite easily.

These days, we often see images of the stars on TV or in film, but such pictures cannot compare to the sight of the night’s sky in a place like Polis. The deep darkness seemed to arch over us, pricked by countless tiny points of light, indescribably viviid, making me feel tiny in comparison to it’s vastness. Frankly, that sight alone was worth the trip in itself, and is something I’ll never forget.

We just got home from Cyprus. Having been up since about 3am, I’m feeling rather knackered so I think I’ll leave the story telling for another entry and just share this picture with you.

Lyn took it at Paphos Harbour. Now, no matter how cold and blustery it gets outside, I can look at it and remember the incredible afternoon we spent there, and indeed our amazing week in Cyprus.

Its that slightly sad day where everyone is packing up, winding down and preparing to go home. Everyone seems rather tired. It has been a brilliant week, although we leave Cyprus intending to return. We have barely seen a fraction of this beautiful island, but what we have seen has intrigued us. I was barely a teenager when I last came here; this trip has given me a much better grasp of Cypriot life. Of course, I knew quite a lot about it already from my family, but finally getting to explore this place under my own steam has really been magical. I feel I now have a much clearer idea of the complex politics behind the conflict with the Turks for one. On the other hand, I haven’t seen half as much as I would like, so I really hope this is not the last time Lyn and I come here.

I genuinely think that this has been the fastest week ever. How can it possibly be Friday already? Time really has flown by, and a week doesn’t seem nearly long enough to explore this breathtakingly beautiful island. While we have kept to polis most of the week, today we took a taxi to Paphos, exploring the market and then the harbour. The highlight was meeting a busker on the dockside: he was playing all the classic rock Lyn loves, and let her join in for a jam. It was such a cool moment, and a good example of the friendliness of the people we have encountered here. I hope that rendition of Hotel California will stay in my head for quite some time. The holiday might have flown by, but I suspect my memories of it will remain for far longer.

A beer by the pool,

Man this is cool A long, chilled out day

Doing what we may.

Just enjoyng time Wind cool, weather fine.

Just chilling in the sun,

Slow, relaxing, and fun

The sun is starting to set and you can hear the boats creak in the harbour. Birds tweet in the trees nearby, preparing for the fall of night. Across the table in front of me, the woman I love tends to her work. All is calm and at peace. I can barley imagine a more beautiful, serene moment; a fragment of time which I wish would extend into eternity.

I don’t have that much to record on here today. Usually going on holiday means I have lots of adventures to recount and lots to blog about, but that is not the case this time. It has been a very chilled out affair so far; hours spent by the pool listening to music and talking. Truth be told, Polis is only a small place so there isn’t that much to do; and the lack of public transport has meant that we haven’t yet gone further afield. That is no bad thing, of course. Today may be different, though: a trip to the beach is on the cards. Standby for further reports.

I have a bit of a confession to make this morning, over something I feel quite bad about. Last night, just a month after I told myself never to drink again, I had a beer. I knew I shouldn’t, and I told myself it would be the start of the slippery slope back to drunkenness, but it was no good. Weather I like it or not, alcohol still has power over me, and probably always will. Granted, it was just one beer with another delicious meal, so I suppose it was ok. Problems only arise when it gets out of hand: I had thought the best way to prevent that would be not to drink at all, but that does not look like it’s feasible for me. I suppose I just have to be sensible, watch myself, and only have the occasional drink, simply to satisfy urges which irritatingly persist.

I always feel a thrill, a shock of excited energy, whenever I wake up in a hotel. There is always a moment of not remembering where you are, and then it comes flooding back: you are somewhere new, somewhere you haven’t been before, and it’s all waiting for you to explore.

I felt just such a shock this morning: I opened my eyes expecting to see the familiar walls of our bedroom back in Charlton, but they weren’t there. Instead, bright sunshine dreamed through the gaps between the curtens onto a well-appointed hotel room; the sound of the traffic outside was somehow different to that of London. Lyn was, as usual, sleeping next to me, yet she seemed much more content than at home. Then I remembered where I was, how we got here, and the outstanding meal we had last night in a nearby restaurant; and I suddenly had a feeling of utter bliss and contentment. How could life possibly be so good? Here I was, on an astoundingly beautiful island, about to explore it with the woman I love.

I feel it again sat here writing this, looking out onto the hills of western Cyprus. After a relaxed morning, we will soon head out onto the streets of polis. I look forward to introducing Lyn to a bit of Greek culture, hopefully including lots of music. I look forward to a day of fun and joy and laughs. But before that, here and now, in this calm, cool hotel room, I frankly feel like the luckiest man alive.

Then sun is shining down on us through the windows at stanstead airport. Lyn and I are, believe it or nor, off on another adventure. We are going to Paphos, Cyprus. While the choice of destination was largely hers, I’m really looking forward to showing Lyn the country half my family hails from. Mind you, I haven’t been there since I was a child, and never without my parents, so I’m really looking forward to exploring it under my own steam.

Lyn had to go to the job centre yesterday. She received a letter a week or two ago, informing her she had to go in. It struck us both as pretty stupid, but I think it’s routine nowadays: everyone, regardless of their disability or circumstance, is being forced to look for work. The tories claim it’s about improving lives through work (as if they give a fuck about anyone’s welfare but their own) but they just want to extract as much money from everyone as possible so that they can reduce tax for their rich friends. Thus they force people like Lyn to go to such meetings, potentially stressing them out and making them worry about whether they’ll be forced off benefits.

Mind you, Lyn got home yesterday quite amused. They had apparently suggested she start some kind of music company; they had clearly had no idea what Lyn was about or what she faces, and had made the same suggestion they make to anyone. Lyn is an extremely motivated person: she would already have such a company up and running if it was at all feasible. It just goes to show the limits of the conservative mentality, and how little they understand about people outside their realm of experience.

I’m having second thoughts about the selection of Donald Trump. Yesterday I blogged about how utterly stupid it would be if he was selected as the Republican candidate in America, but now I come to think about it, it would probably be the best outcome we could hope for. The guy’s a joke, but the problem is his republican rivals are even more dangerous. They are truly scary people with views even more fucked up than Trumps; the difference is, they would stand more of a chance than Trump in a general election. In a contest between Trump and Clinton, people would – hopefully – get serious and elect Clinton. Cruz et al have a more serious chance of entering the white house, but if anything they are more right-wing than trump. Thus ironically the rational thing for us to do is hope Donald gets his party’s nomination, as blatantly absurd as he is.

I fear the world is just one step away from complete madness. Looking across the Atlantic, I feel a strange mixture of bewilderment and horror. Can America really be so stupid as to elect donald Trump, [i]really[/i]? I’m sure like many people, for the last few months I’ve been telling myself that, when push came to shove, Americans would get serious and reject trump as the joke he is. But they haven’t; in fact his popularity s growing so that this absurd bully now has a real chance of becoming president of the most powerful country on earth. This is a guy who makes Nigel Farage look sane and tolerant; he clearly has no real grasp of politics domestic or international – and thinks that unsophisticated populist rhetoric is sufficient to rule an advanced, highly complex economy. I fear there is a very real danger here: we cannot really cling to the hope that America will stop playing around and elect Clinton; but if this neofascist buffoon is elected and starts bullying the world as he does america, then I dread to think what will happen.

I suppose if I’m going to tell the world about all the cool stuff that happens to me on here, I’ll have to record all the rubbish too. Yesterday was not a good day. It had started with so much promise: the plan had been for Lyn and I to go up to St Pancras to meet my parents for lunch. They apparently know a nice vegetarian restaurant there which they were rather eager to show us. We set off perhaps a little later than we should have, but still in good time. We got on the Jubilee line at North Greenwich, intending to change to the northern line at London Bridge. It had all looked so straightforward on the TFL website, but when we got to London Bridge station, we discovered there were no lifts to the northern line platform. Our only other option was to go via green park, which would have added 45 minutes to our journey. I relayed this info to mum, who sadly advised us to turn back and head home – by the time we would have been there, the restaurant would have shut for the afternoon.

We did as she said. I felt miserable all the way back: I had been looking forward to seeing mum and dad; ”meeting for lunch” is something that us urbanites do, isn’t it? But this had made me feel inept – perhaps I had missed something online which might have warned me. Truth be told, last night I felt wretched.

This morning, however, brought a new day. Dad popped down at lunchtime (they were going to give us something we needed yesterday) to reassure me and set everything right. It was good to see him, even if it wasn’t quite the same. I suppose it just teaches me to check more thoroughly next time, although given I was going by the information available to me, I don’t see what more I could have done.

How dare the insult to humanity Iain Duncan Smith liken himself to a great emancipating figure like Wilberforce, trying to end welfare dependence as though it was akin to slavery? Here, the murderous piece of shit frames welfare as a form of persecution, ”promising to end the ‘twilight world’ of entire communities that are reliant on benefits”. The contrast with his real motives is what gets to me: IDS does not give a fuck about setting people free; he does not care about anyone’s liberty but his own and that of his rich, tory-voting friends. His only motive for reducing welfare is to reduce taxes – the people he leaves stranded and isolated can starve for all he cares. To see this p’tahk dress what he is doing up as some noble quest when thousands have already died through his barbarity chills my blood. People have been found ‘fit to work’, booted off disability benefits and told to find a job, only to be found dead weeks later. IDS, had he lived in the eighteenth century, would probably have been one of those lave owning bastards opposing Wilberforce, arguing that hard work did his slaves good.

Am I allowed to say that I don’t think Sam Smith can sing at all, without being accused of homophobia. How he won the best music oscar last night is beyond me: his ”Writings on the wall’ is by far the worst bond theme for decades, if not ever. I find it whiney and nauseating, and not at all in keeping with the Bond ouvre. Frankly, Smith shouldn’t have got passed X-Factor, or whichever crappy talent show he won. The dude cannot sing, but whines into a microphone. Compared to the great bond themes – Tina Turner’s Goldeneye, Carly Simon’s Nobody Does it Better, Paul McCartney’s Live And let Die etc – Smith’s song is abysmal. This has nothing to do with his personality or sexuality, but his (lack of) talent as a singer. I’m glad a bond film at last won an oscar, just baffled that it was due to Smith’s nauseating theme.

Update: I just read that Adele won an oscar for her theme for Skyfall last year so this wasn’t the first, but you get my point.

Staying with politics but in a different aspect, I think I’ll just direct you here today, to an article alleging (or rather, pointing out) that George Osbourne seems to have all of a sudden magicked up an new economic downturn in order to justify more cuts. Not long ago, the tories were assuring us that the misery would be over soon, but now they’re on about cutting the welfare state even further: ”Suddenly the promise has gone from ‘happy days in a couple of years’ time’ to ‘more cuts, more austerity, more pain’. And it’ll be the poor who have to pay for it, of course.” How much more evidence do you want that these oh-so-necessary cuts are entirely ideologically motivated? The world economy is at last on the mend, but that doesn’t suit the tory narrative. People are starving, but they still want to cut tax for their rich friends, so the tories conjure up an excuse lest we all realise the criminality of what they are doing. It’s sickening; we’re being treated like fools.

I was watching a podcast last night by a guy with ties to David icke. Lyn likes him, so I thought I’d give him a try. Truth be told, apart from a few spurious attacks on the BBC and some bollocks about vaccinations, I found myself agreeing with eighty to ninety percent of what the guy was saying. However, one patently ridiculous comment, made towards the end of the show, stuck in my mind: he was talking about the referendum, and the people now leading the Out campaign. He pointed out that they were all vile, despicable creatures, people you wouldn’t ordinarily touch with a barge pole. People like Iain Duncan-Smith, a man who, the guy said, wouldn’t have been out of place in nazi Germany. But the guy, an outer himself, then made one of the strangest most far-fetched insinuations I had ever heard: rather than making him reassess his own position as one might expect (”if so many of these neocon shits want us to vote out, perhaps I’m wrong”) he tried to make out that these horrible people had been planted on the out campaign, and it was all a big conspiracy to make sure we stay in the EU. The odd thing is, I don’t think he was joking.

Such an idea is, of course, absurd enough to simply be dismissed out of hand. Yet it points to something deeper: a deep mistrust, felt by many people in this country, of those in power. They seem to think that, whatever we do and however we vote, existing power structures would be preserved. The guy was highly political, highly knowledgable, but this absurd insinuation revealed a deep, heartfelt cynicism and disenfranchisement. No wonder he wanted to leave the EU – he saw it as just another layer of power for a ruling elite who will do anything to cling on to their dominant position. And, you know what? My desire to keep europe united aside, I think there he may have a point.

I read earlier that the outists are trying to organise some kind of concert or music festival in aid of their cause. It’s obvious they are trying to re-frame or re-present their message as something positive and social; they think that by holding such a rally, they can come across as something popular and inclusive. But frankly, this festival, if it happens, will be more akin to Nuremberg than Live Aid. No doubt they want to invoke the massive social events of recent times like the diamond jubilee or the olympics, allowing Farage et al to preach their isolationist, intellectually void bullshit to a massive, cheering audience of unthinking halfwits. It would be a sickening sight. I only hope no popular musician is stupid enough to sign up to play; or that, if it happens a similar ‘in’ festival can be organised in reply.

This morning sees me really quite excited. Last night was the first meeting of the group organising the Greenwich and Woolwich film festival. Such small festivals, run by volunteers, are becoming quite popular; getting involved in one was too good an opportunity for me to miss. Last night was only an initial ice-breaker to gauge interest and get the ball rolling, but it was well attended and generated a good discussion. I made a few contributions and suggestions. Not much was set in stone last night, but I am now eager to get involved: I’m thinking about doing something based on my MA subject. I now can’t wait for the next meeting.

I also want to note that, even though the meeting was in a local pub, I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol; I now feel rather proud of myself.

Lyn wrote this yesterday and I think it’s definitely worth linking to. It’s about her time living in a Scope home in the eighties, and the institutionalisation she witnessed in the residents there. She writes of how they were used to the routine of ”basket weaving, art, woodwork and so on.” and how it was intended ”To keep the. residents busy [and] to make them more alive but the opposite was true.” She then describes how she tried to break them out of that state and to shake things up, but was resisted. ”They had been Institutionalized by the rules and the routine and this is now the norm. Trying to change that comfortable state leads to fear. If you tell people that have been living in a way that is wrong, you are demeaning their lives. So if you are that one person in the room that is saying, then it’s you that is the problem.”

I think I know what Lyn is getting at. She and I disagree on the EU; she is saying people have been institutionalised by it, and so will stick with what they know. It’s a very good point: change is always resisted, and the advocates of change fought against. People will want to stick with what they know, so Lyn fears people will vote to stay in the EU simply because of that instinct. But I would, in reply, like to point out that this is not about resistance to change: things must change, or else stagnate and rot. Indeed, I see this issue as about changing the way we see ourselves: we should no longer think of ourselves in terms of belonging to a certain nation state, but as citizens of the world, working together and respecting one another. I see organisations like the EU, and indeed the UN, as a step towards that goal. Thus this is not about sticking with what one knows because it is comforting, but just the opposite: it’s about shaking off the old nation-state paradigm and seeing ourselves as part of something bigger and better. Lyn’s allusion applies equally to the state – that is the institution we must break free of. Lyn tells us how the residents of her old home did not talk to one another, but communication would be even harder if we withdraw from the community and shut ourselves away in our room.

I just rewatched Spectre having bought the DVD yesterday, and, first things first, I’d like to totally refute the criticisms made in the video I referenced in this entry. Spectre emphatically does not suck. While perhaps not as good as Skyfall, I now think the supposed ‘flaws’ cited in that review do not hold water. For starters, I saw no grounds to say that it was too slapstick or too Austin Powers. What I just watched was a serious (insofar as bond films can be serious) film addressing a serious, increasingly relevant issue. A film about a global organisation that wants to spy on everyone is highly salient, even speaking to concerns about globalisation and the EU. To tie those concerns into an organisation created by Fleming, rooting it into the Bond franchise’s history was a masterstroke. To bring blofeld and spectre back, updated to reflect contemporary fears but still using the iconography of the ‘classic’ 007 films such as the white cat, is not only great filmmaking but also says something about why this franchise is so special. It can both constantly reinvent itself and play with it’s own history. To criticise it for referencing it’s past, to say that to echo older bond films is somehow lazy or that characters like Blofeld or oddjob are now out of bounds because they have been pastiched in things like Austin Powers, is not only to completely miss the point but also to misunderstand the bond franchise and film as an art.

Another criticism that video made was that it was wrong to connect Bond and Blofeld as family; that that made the story too personal to Bond. His missions should be about the safety of the country, not him as a person; he is an anonymous government assassin, not a figure like Jason Bourne or Luke Skywalker (”James, I am your brother”). Thus that criticism holds a bit more water with me, but after a second viewing I now think they got away with it. Skyfall touched on Bond’s boyhood and family life, and this film leads directly on from that. In Skyfall, bond says Judy Dench’s M knows his full history, and in Spectre it is she who sets him on his path. Granted, perhaps that makes this film more about Bond, and perhaps it is a bit too coincidental that the leader of this evil organisation just happens to be Bond’s adopted brother, but I don’t think that makes this a bad film, and it certainly does not warrant disregarding for it. Even if it was more about Bond than other bond films, I thoroughly enjoyed the film I watched this afternoon, and found it a great addition to the franchise. Far from being holed, the plot works well, both speaking to the history of the franchise and continuing it’s relevance. As when I watched it in the cinema, it just left me dying for more.

I just caught up with The Night Manager on the bbc Iplayer, and would now thoroughly recommend you do the same. An adaptation of a John Le Carre novel, it concerns Jonathan Pine – polite, calm, charming, confident but self-deprecating, a little mysterious, very English – an ex army man who, at the piece’s opening, is working nights at a Cairo hotel. One night, a beautiful woman comes in, and asks Pine to keep a document safe for her. From there, a web of intrigue unfolds, involving the arms trade, the Arab spring, and a branch of the british secret service apparently based in a grotty flat in Victoria. It is a well written, well directed piece: perhaps not quite Bond, but it certainly has bondish overtones, especially in it’s hotel-heavy mise-en-scene. It drew me in: I began to care for the lead character quite early; I felt the anguish he feels at the tragic mistake he makes in this opening episode, and the ending left me dying to see what happens next.

The choice on the 23rd of june is clear:

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

(Sorry it’s not very clear, but you get the idea)

I have always thought that there must be more to human existence than the state. To keep ourselves divided into petty little nation states is to waste our potential. Think what we can achieve if humanity United, combined it’s resources and worked together. Of course, I am well aware of the problems involved in establishing a world government: some say it would be too big to be democratic, while others argue that it would eradicate human variety. Both are problematic although not impossible to overcome: after all, different cultures can exist perfectly well within one country. The Welsh have not lost their welshness despite six hundred years of union with England. Thus I think those who voice such objections do so for other reasons, veiling their arguments with liberal sounding ideals when in fact their arguments are born of xenophobia and nationalism. They want to maintain essentially arbitrary borders and preserve the ‘us’ and ‘them’ mindset, not realising that, far from creating a universal, bland culture, the mixing of peoples is the only way a culture evolves.

That’s why I plan to vote to stay in the EU in the referendum, the date of which I am told will be announced later today. The European Union might not be perfect, and I certainly have problems with CaMoron’s so called renegotiation (he wants to remake the EU in his own neoliberal image, bastardizing it from it’s original ideals), but there are ideals at stake here which are far more important than the present moment. This is about going beyond nation states; it’s about working with our neighbours rather than building walls. It’s about not shutting ourselves from the world. Surely we cannot be so shortsighted, so moronic, that we decide to shut ourselves off for our closest neighbour. Europe is not perfect – it needs reform, but we need to e a participant in that reform, not a shortsighted irrelevent little island to it’s north.

I just got in from a good, long walk, only to find this sad news being reported. Harper Lee, author of To Kill a Mockingbird, has died aged 89. I don’t want to do too much eulogising, save to say that Lee was a writer I truly respected. I first came across Mockingbird at school, and it has always stayed with me: it’s one of those books which profoundly effect the way one looks at the world. Mind you, I was less impressed with Go Set a Watchman, which I have yet to finish. Nonetheless, the literary world and the world as a whole has today lost one of it’s leading lights.

I just came across something rather heartwarming on my friend Kate’s Facebook page. There was a picture of a man with CP; underneath, a message asked everyone to share it, explaining that the author of the post, the boys mum, had posted previously about her son’s Ipad being stolen. It had been taken from him at Cadbury World in Barcelona, but the thief had seen the post and returned the ipad. ”The thief had a change of heart and has returned it to Cadbury World’s head office in Barcelona! They have just called his dad to confirm it’s not damaged and they are returning it to us this week”. That really made me smile. The boy obviously was using his Ipad as a communication aid, as I do, and I know what it feels like to have one of those stolen. The thief must have realised how vital the Ipad was to him. I’m glad to see he had a conscious – if only every such case ended like this. The post ends by saying that this goes to show that ‘people power’ works; it also demonstrates that posts like this on facebook can achieve results after all.

I haven’t been to Soho in ages. I went up there a few times when I first moved down to the capital, but we decided it was kind of dangerous for me to get dressed up and go there on my own of a friday or Saturday evening, so my visits there stopped. But I rather miss it: it struck me as a unique part of the city, full of life, where one can express the sides of your personality which otherwise must remain hidden. Part of me wants to bite the bullet, break out the sequins and head up there again, but having just come across this I’m not sure. Soho is dying: Soho regular Kalvin Ryder explains how the area is not what it once was. The bulldozers are moving it; it is being cleaned up, made more ‘family friendly’. While some may argue that that must be a good thing, it is the eradication of a community, the obliteration of one of London’s most distinct corners. It’s painfully obvious that Boris and his intolerant Tory pals hate having such an area in central London – they want the city remade in their image: white, straight, rich and small-minded. If this article is correct, Soho will soon be just like any other part of central london: all coffee bars, book shops and offices, and we would have lost one of the coolest parts of the city.

I have been feeling rather bad recently that I haven’t written anything substantial in ages. I find myself wondering what I contribute to society, and telling myself I should be writing books or scripts by now. I look at Lyn, in her studio every day for hours on end working on her music. Yet another voice in my head points out that I contribute in other ways: I still volunteer at school, where there are a couple of big projects coming up; the same goes with UEL. As for my writing, when you think about it the word count for my blog must now be well into the hundreds of thousands. While the last thing I wrote that you might call substantial was my masters thesis, I’ve contributed a hundred words or so to the electronic ether every day for quite some time. I know my entries are usually quite short and light in terms of analysis, but I don’t think they’re completely worthless. I rather like jotting down my thoughts on a different subject every day; the difficulty with a more sustained piece of text is finding a topic that interests you enough that you want to keep working on it. While I search for that subject – and I have no doubt it will come – I’m content to keep blogging. After all, it isn’t exactly nothing – while short, this form of prose has a kind of directness to it which I kind of like; taken as a whole, moreover, I’d argue my blog constitutes a fairly substantial body of work.

I feel I ought to flag this quite shocking news up. The government wants to ban public bodies such as students’ unions boycotting Israeli imports. ”Under the plan all publicly funded institutions will lose the freedom to refuse to buy goods and services from companies involved in the arms trade, fossil fuels, tobacco products or Israeli settlements in the occupied West Bank.” They justify it by saying that such boycotts foster antisemitism, but that’s bull. This amounts to a gross infringement of civil rights: the Tories want to prevent us standing up for what we believe. Of course, the situation in Israel is very complex, and one must be careful not to stray into antisemitism; but in many ways what he Israeli government is doing amounts to the wholehearted persecution of Palestinians. It is no better than apartheid, and we must have the right to demonstrate our disapproval of it just as we did with the one in South Africa.