It was great to see Sir David Attenborough on our screens once again last night. This time, he was telling us all about flightless birds in those homely, paternal tones of his. What amazes me is, he started presenting nature programmes before my parents were born, yet he still makes some of the most interesting stuff on tv. That’s why I’ll always make an effort to tune into his programmes.

I cannot help but wonder, though, how many more of his programmes we’ll see. It’s only a matter of time before the inevitable happens, yet David Attenborough’s nature documentaries have been such a constant in British cultural life for so long that it’s hard to imagine there being no more. For now, though, I think we’ll see plenty yet; and if they’re all as fascinating as the one last night I can’t wait.

I got int an argument on facebook this morning over transability: I showed some people on a disability-related forum my recent blog entry on the subject, and they disagreed with it vehemently. They pointed out that I had missed the point: the concept is actually about breaking down the disabled/able-bodied binary I seemed to be wanting in that entry to cling to. I was directed to a quite fascinating video lecture on the subject, and in fact it is about rereading the ‘us and them‘ paradigm I once tried to reread. If you think about it, we are all disabled because we all face disabling barriers; and thus disability can be seen as a transcendable concept. In my blog entry of a couple of weeks ago, I was maintaining a barrier I’ve been trying to break down all my life. Time for me to read more on this subject, and learn to think before I pass comment.

Yesterday was yet another of those truly awesome days which will remain a fond memory for years. To have at last seen The Cat Empire with charlotte, and at a venue as magnificent as the Royal Albert Hall, is incredible. It was C who introduced me to them, and I knew one day we needed to go to one of their gigs together. Mind you, it had been an amazing weekend even before we got there: up to Chester on a train on Saturday; seeing Will perform on Saturday evening (I still can’t get over what an incredible actor he is); the obligatory house party after. Then, yesterday, travelling back down with charlie, heading for the Albert Hall, meeting up with James in a nearby pub and going to one of the best gigs I’ll ever see. I’m pleased to report too that charlie and james got on like a house on fire – but then, I had a feeling those two would match up.

Charlotte stayed here overnight and has just headed off. Going to see the cat empire the first time was cool enough, but what happened yesterday was special to me beyond words. To have at last seen them with charlie, one of my best friends, the person who introduced me to the band of so many awesome nights at uni, feels like something that I really wanted to happen, has happened. To see The Cat Empire with charlie is something I needed to do. There was a moment as we sat in the Hall waiting for the gig to start when I thought, ”Holy shit, how can life possibly get any better?” On top of all the other amazing things I’ve done – watching Python, meeting Patrick Stewart and so on – it just seems nights like last night remind me how great life is. My jaw drops when I think about all the incredible things I’ve done; yet, as Lyn often points out, there will always be something else to look forward to and work towards.

It was through L that I came to this awesome life, and I owe her so much for it. My gratitude extends too to my parents, as it was mum and dad who gave me the confidence and potential to do these marvellous things. It’s mum’s birthday today, and I really hope it is a good one. My mother taught me to hold my head up and go out into the world; it is because of her, because of all the cuddles and chats, flapjacks and life lessons, that I know I can do anything. I thought of her too last night, sat there with my friends. The life I lead is so awesome because of the gifts I got from my parents: it was only due to them that I went to university, where I had the opportunity to express myself and meet wonderful people like Lyn, charlie and james. I know I make them worry sometimes, but I hope they know how great I think they are, and how lucky I feel to have them.

I’m currently sat at the table of the kitchen of the house i once dubbed the burrow. The jones household is as homely as ever: after an epic night in which will Jones revealed himself to be an actor of the most astounding quality, I woke up wondering where I was. Needless to say, the after show party was quite a heavy one. However, after a shower and with a good meal in me, I feel quite perky. Now, though, it’d time to get back to the metropolis for part two of this truly amazing weekend.

I have a feeling this will be a long, awesome weekend. I’m already up, breakfasted and caffeinated, and I’m just waiting for John to arrive to get me to Euston. From there, I’ll get a train to Chester, where I’ll visit charlotte and the jonses. Apparently young (well, not so young now) will has a gig tonight in Liverpool we’re going to see. Then tomorrow it’s back down to the metropolis, Charlie with me. We’ll head for the Royal Albert Hall, where we’ll rendezvous with James and go to a Cat Empire gig. I have a feeling that that will be truly, truly special: I have long wanted to see the cat empire with C. After all, she was the one who got me into them all those years ago at university – she used to put the on as we prepared ourselves for Wednesday night discos. All being well, tomorrow night will be amazing. But there’s a lot to happen before then, and indeed we have to get back here to Charlton after, so I better go get myself sorted (and have another coffee).

I may or may not have described a similar episode on here before a while ago, but this morning, when we got into our living room, Lyn and Marta our PA noticed the mouse trap had been filled. The prism-shaped piece of card was shaking; it obviously had a mouse stuck on it’s adhesive base. L and M didn’t know what to do Marta could not deal with it. We couldn’t leave it there, so I had no choice: on my own I half filled a bucket with water and took it back into the living room. I then pressed the cardboard prism into the water, making sure it was submerged for thirty seconds or so, before taking the damn thing outside, putting it in the bin and tipping out the water.

I instantly felt wretched. I forced myself to do it, but after it was over I realised I had killed a mammal. Last time this happened it was up to me to clout its brain out with a hammer, and I didn’t want to repeat that abhorrent episode. But this time it felt no less base. I may like fictional characters like James Bond, but I am not James Bond – I am not a killer. I felt insecure and disgusted; it is still playing on my mind. I keep telling myself that I had no choice and that I did what I had to do, but I hope I never have to do it again.

I’m suddenly rather sad. I saw a friend mention it on facebook, and checked the beeb. It was true: Sir christopher Lee has died aged 93. While he had a good, long life, to loose such a great actor is always a pity. He was saruman in lord of the rings and Scaramanga in The Man with the Golden Gun, so he was in two of my favourite franchises; not to mention count Docu in star wars. all one can do is sigh; we have lost another of the greats.

This will probably be the first of many blog entries i make on the subject, but I want to state openly and absolutely that I want the uk to stay in the European Union. As far as I am concerned leaving the eu would be a monumental act of folly. It would mean a catastrophic pulling up of the drawbridge; a withdrawal from the world along outdated nationalistic lines. We cannot let such stupidity prevail. That’s not to say I oppose holding a referendum: the sooner its held, the sooner the issue can be put to bed, and the sooner Farage and his bunch of twits are made irrelevant. But of course, that assumes voters make the sensible choice.

I’m not an economist so I can’t even pretend to debate the maths, but every fibre of my being tells me that what George Osbourne will announce tonight is wrong. He arrogantly plans to enshrine his greedy, selfish politics into law by making it illegal for governments to spend more than they receive. While on the face of it, that might sound like a good idea, it effectively makes austerity permanent. We would no longer be able to borrow, so, given that any government will be reluctant to raise tax too far*, it will lead to deeper and deeper cuts. The welfare state will be ransacked; the NHS unsustainable. As noted here it returns us to a victorian mindset, and we all know how much the Victorians cared about the less fortunate in society. Thus, by passing this law, Osbourne imposes his greedy worldview on us all; he would make it normal to see things his way, criminalise trying to care for others. As wise as it may seem, this law will alter how we think by making frugality a norm. If government and the state shrinking, we’d withdraw into ourselves, care only about ourselves: upon seeing a suffering person, we’ll no longer think ”I hope they get help soon” but simply ”tough shit”. By enshrining these ideologically-inspired cuts into law, Osbourne makes tory greed permanent; what that insult to humanity is doing is utterly, utterly evil.

*unless our collective attitude to tax changes and we become more tolerant of contributing to society, which I’d see as a more mature worldview but which the greedmotivated tories no doubt have ruled out.

Although the video might be temporary given we’re considering getting better footage, I really must send you here. Lyn’s new singe To My Knees is out on Itunes today, so we made a quick video for it yesterday. I shot most of the video on our Gopro bolted to my chair, and L edited and uploaded it. I think it has turned out pretty well, Lyn being an excellent editor. More importantly, you can now buy the single here.

I may have been rather negative about the paraorchestra on Friday, and still say that performance was incredibly cringeworthy, but I still support them in principal. We all know how great they can be, and the work they are doing for inclusion can only be applauded. I just wish they had picked a better song.

Something like this. When I came across Jonatha Bastos last night, having seen a link on Lyn’s facebook, my jaw dropped. The guy is astonishing: he has no arms or hands, but he plays piano incredibly well. He also play electric guitar sublimely…with his feet. I try not to be impressed by such things, as it smacks of a ”aww, didn’t he do well” attitude to disability; but, credit where credit’s due, the dude can play. I think he’s brazillian (I haven’t read much about him yet) so I wonder if he’ll be appearing in the 2016 Rio Paralympics. Either that, or he could be a member of the International Paraorchestra Charles Hazlewood is trying to create. From what I’ve seen, his skill is phenomenal.

I must say, the devil in me wonders what Nicolas McCarthy will think when he finds out about Bastos. Having built a career from being an apparently unique onehanded pianist, to discover you have been trumped and that there’s someone even more unusual than you, doing what you do, could be quite a blow. Then again, they have vastly different repertoires and play entirely different genres, so there is clearly room for both. In fact, the two performers could be seen to complement each other. I wonder whether they could even perform together.

It might be a bit random, and it’s not as if I’ll be using one anytime soon, but I just stumbled over this shopping-related news and thought it deserved flagging up. ”Sainsbury’s has responded to calls from parents with disabled children for a more secure shopping trolley and, after months of testing a prototype with parents and children, the retailer has today announced that they will begin introducing nearly 600 of the new trolleys to supermarket stores across the UK from 15 September.” I can still remember mum trying to put me in one of those trollies; as I grew, it got harder and harder. Eventually mum had to stop taking me shopping. Thus, even though it’s of no use to me personally, I think this is great news, and certainly a sign that at least some people think about families who don’t fit the standard model.

It has been another long saturday afternoon in the park. I just popped back to check everything was ok and answer the call of nature. I know I’ve said this before, but it always amazes me how welcome I feel there: I count most of the Mighty eights cricket team as among my friends, especially James who I’ll soon be going to another gig with – more on that soon. Another chap was telling me earlier about a Star Wars event in town. I googled it and found this – I’m not an especially big star wars fan, but frankly that looks awesome. I’ll certainly try to check that out, but now it’s time for me to head back to the cricket.

I’m afraid to say that, after watching The One Show this evening, my attitude to the pararchestra has changed completely. Unlike Lyn, I could forgive them True Colours; while it was a bit saccharine, it sort of fitted the post paralympic moment. After the awesomeness of the Paralympic Closing ceremony I was prepared to let things slide. Yet this evening, having watched them perform something so sickly I almost wanted to vomit, I thank smeg Lyn withdrew when she did. The group is capable of greatness – the closing ceremony is proof of that, and being there to watch it remains one of the proudest moments of my life. Yet now they do twee, feel good stuff with no artistic merit, usually alongside a bunch of nauseating kids. This evening they were used as little more than stage dressing, needed to sit at the back and look good while a load of school kids sang. They were used more as tokens than as musicians in their own right. Of course, I can only go by what I’ve seen, and they may have done better, untelevised stuff; but, judging by what I saw this evening, Hazlewood is allowing his once mighty creation to be turned into something abominable.

I’m looking forward to tonight. Although Lyn was not involved this time, the British Paraorchestra is taking part in the bbc’s music day. I am eager to see what they’ve been up to. Apparently they will be on The One show tonight – the second time they have been on it – but I cant be much more specific than that. Meanwhile, I’d also like to flag up that there’s quite a nice piece about Lyn on the can do musos website, which showcases musicians with disabilities. It’s a lovely little page all about L’s musical work. Lyn sort of withdrew from the paraorchestra in order to concentrate on her composition work, but it seems both are thriving, so tonight I hope you will all be flipping between the one show and Lynrock.

Late last night I came across something I genuinely do not understand and do not know what to think of. It was late so I just went to bed, but this morning I’m still perplexed. I had come across the notion of transability – the idea that some people seek to become disabled. At first I thought it was a joke, but I googled it and found it to be quite real. I don’t know what to think: part of me says such people are quite mad – being disabled is often neither easy or fun, so why would anyone want to deliberately damage their bodies? Maybe they just want to jump on the bandwagon, and claim to belong to the disability community. To be honest, while I’m not going to name names, I think I know one or two people like that.

Part of me asks what is the difference between this and transgenderism? If i can accept that some people were born into the wrong gender and have a right to change genders, I should accept this. My initial reaction would be that gender can be swapped either way: men become woman and women become men, and neither necessitates a lessening of ability. Of course, you could say that people with disabilities always seek to become more able-bodied, be it through medical procedure, specialist equipment and so on; but we aren’t trying to become something fundamentally different to who we now are. To try to make our lives a bit easier is not the same as thinking we were born in the wrong body. Thus I’d say there is a fundamental difference between transgenderism and transabilitism, and that I can be perfectly fine with one and deeply skeptical about the other.

I’m very troubled by this. According to this article, this very real phenomenon can be seen as a neurological condition – itself a disability. But I can’t help thinking there might be imposters in our community, bandwagon jumpers who profess to be disabled for some kind of street cred or fashion accessory, as if wanting to be in an oppressed minority is in vogue. I wonder how many users of the ouch message boards or the DPAC facebook group claim to be disabled, yet know nothing of special schools, long stay hospitals and so on? Of course, they might genuinely think they are disabled or might not be conscious of what they are doing; but I just fear, looking at the numbers of people now using those forums, that our community could now be usurped as a political force by people wo don’t have the rest of our interests at heart.

Going back to my masters for a moment, much of the writing by the old cinephiles concerned the idea of ‘aura’ – the special feeling you get when you go into the cinema and the lights go down. Writers like Bazin argued that it was specific to the cinema. However, I argue in my thesis that people try to recreate that effect at home by closing the curtains and turning down the lights, although this suggests that people might be taking that just a little too far.

I have the pleasure of reporting Lyn has a new single out soon. ‘To my Knees’ was created entirely on Lyn’s Ipad apart from the mastering, and sounds wonderful. As always, it was great to hear Lyn composing in her studio: I listen as she gradually builds up her tracks. It’s a slow, magical process. This time, she has used a sampled woman’s voice to give her song quite an etherial quality. You can check it out here.

It’s amazing to think how much I owe to the fact I went to university. I know I’ve written about this here before, albeit not for a while, but I really think going to uni made me who I am. It brought me out of my shell: I went from being a home-loving, nervous boy to an outgoing, gregarious man. At uni, I did some of my best work, and my master’s thesis is probably the best thing I’ve ever written. At uni I did things I never knew I could do. And at uni the pictures were taken which caught the eye of the woman who later became my fiancee. That lead me down here to all the incredible things which have happened over the last five years. Had I not had the experience of living in halls, I doubt I would have had the confidence to move to London.

Thinking about it, in fact, it’s hard to estimate how much I owe to university. And I doubt I’m alone in uni being highly formative: for many young people, uni is the place you discover who you are. To have just come across this Huffington Post article, then, chills my blood. ”Stephen Hawking has voiced his fears students with conditions similar to his will not receive the support they need to succeed due to funding cuts.” Due to new government cuts to Disabled Students Allowance, the support which enabled me to attend MMU will no longer be there. I was bloody lucky to go to university when I did; had I been born later, had the insults to humanity we now have in power been in control just over a decade ago, I probably would never have gone. More to the point, how many young people will now be denied the opportunity I feel so fortunate to have had? And just because of the tories and their cuts. As angry as I feel at them, I feel sad for the victims of their greedy, selfish politics.

I had another enjoyable day at the cricket yesterday. Like last time, it was a lovely afternoon, with the added bonus of actually winning. My mate james was there, and the mighty eights made a very impressive 170. They then bowled the opposition out for less than half that. It was a much better performance than their last match, and I really hope they can keep it up. There really is nothing finer than sitting in a park, the sun warm on your face, watching a real blinder of a cricket match.

Oh the farce that is FIFA, the buffoon that is Blatter.

It’s only a game so why does this matter?

Look at this organisation and you see a joke

Nothing but the crooked lies of a balding old bloke.

Any respect Fifa had must now be gone,

Drained away with every lie and con.

Who can fail to hold this body in total contempt?

Footballs government is totally bent.

Yet, rhymes aside, it’s so sad.

Who knew something once great could become so bad?

My dad has an allergy to fur, so growing up we never had cats or dogs in the house. Last week, we got Lyn a new cat for her birthday. Her last cat, Boomba. passed away about four years ago, and we thought it time we had another four legged creature roaming the house. I’ve never been a pet person, yet somehow, almost despite myself, I’ve becoming incredibly attached to the newest member of the family. I’m still getting used to it, mind: I’ve almost tripped over Guy a couple of times, and this morning I woke up with him sitting on my pillow, purring. Yet I think I finally see why others love their pets so much. Sitting on the sofa, stroking him, I honestly feel a type of calm, joy and affection I don’t recall ever feeling before.

I still can’t quite put my finger on why I’m interested in such things as I’ve never been a particularly big sports fan, but I find myself utterly intrigued by current events at FIFA. Since London 2012, I’ve been very curious about sociocultural events like the olympics and world cup. It seems to me that there is a hell of a lot of international politics behind such events and who gets awarded what: one can read a lot into such decisions, about national attitudes and international relationships. Current events would seem to prove that assumption: in the UK, condemnation of UEFA has gone to the highest level. Although at the moment they are holding back from calling for the reopening of bidding to host 2018, it must hurt CaMoron et al to find that bidding process was a fix, and that they were humiliated not because someone else had a better bid, but because it was a foregone conclusion. And isn’t it telling that Putin has this morning come out in full support of Blatter, and has accused america of meddling where they shouldn’t? On one level, as Lyn keeps pointing out to me with growing consternation, it’s only a game – who cares who hosts what? Yet it is an allegory for international politics, a barometer of tension. Such decisions and the processes behind them can be read as areas where disputes once resolved by bloodshed are played out; through Putin’s support of Blatter, for example, we can clearly read old cold war tensions.

This is the type of stuff I’ve been fascinated with since 2012; it’s why I keep googling for news about the 2024 olympic bids. This breaking story, full of drama, intrigue and corruption, is precisely up that street. Sorry Lyn, but I’m gripped!

I just watched the end of the utterly galling spectacle of the state opening of parliament. I felt only rage whenever the camera focussed on CaMoron, knowing the suffering he is about to inflict on so many. Listening to the queen read out that speech, all those misleading half truths which, while peppered with words like ‘fair’ essentiallyboil down to ideological cuts and a green light for greed, made my blood boil. It was almost too much. At least last time we had the Lib Dems to temper them, but now the tories have free rein to impose their unjust, greedy views on us. Many will starve, but these scumbags don’t care as taxes for their rich friends are low. They are unfit to rule, yet they do, and for the next five years there’s nothing we can do about it.

Lyn once asked me, not unreasonably, why I kept obsessing about Olympic stuff. Although I’ve calmed down about it now, she didn’t see why I should get so excited about it. After all, she said, it was in the past; is’t it better to focus on the future? She had a point, of course, but at the same time I see it another way. Recent history is full of events I consider truly incredible: James bond escorting the queen to the olympics; watching Lyn and the Paraorchestra play at the Paralympic closing ceremony; graduating my Masters. They are indeed in the past, but, the way I look at it, the very fact that such awesomeness happened is proof that anything is possible. If 007 can meet the queen, what’s to stop any other far fetched combination of fictional and nonfictional characters happening? If Lyn can play at London’s olympic stadium, why not anywhere else? If monty python can reunite – and just at the right time and place for us to go watch them – who’s to say we won’t one day see Black Sabbath, Guns and Roses, or any other awesome group? And if I can do a masters, I can sure as hell do anything else I put my mind to – and indeed I currently have a couple of awesome projects on the go which I have a feeling could evolve into something just as incredible. Thus it is not that I dwell on the past, but use it to remind myself how great things can get, what incredible things can happen. For if the previously unthinkable has already happened, all things must be possible; and if that is so, why not go out and see what does?

One of the things I like the most about London is how it can always surprise you. I’ve had a good day: for some reason the writing bug has caught me again, and today I trotted out my second short script in as many days. Being pleased with my efforts – though I daresay what I did today might still need work – I decided topop out for a short walk. I always try to vary the routes I take, so today I headed south-east. That, for us, is the direction of the hospital and, beyond that, welling and Bexleyheath. Of course I had no intention of going that far. Instead, at the hospital, I crossed the road and entered a bit of parkland which I had never been onto before.

It soon struck me how strange that place was. It didn’t feel like a normal london park with their well look after lawns and flowerbeds. Rather, it reminded me of the countryside. Although the buildings and roads of the metropolis weren’t far away, it put me in mind of the road beyond swettenham, which, although still traversable in my chair, seemed to lead out into nowhere. Of course it wasn’t anywhere near that far from home, yet it still felt remote as though that place had been forgotten about and rarely visited. I cannot put my finger on what gave me that impression, but nevertheless it was quite strong. The grass as overgrown and the trees overhung the paths; I could no longer see any buildings, and the sound of traffic faded. What had happened there to cause that area to be so abandoned? It intrigued me; I will have to return there soon.

I spoke to my parents,this morning, as I do every Sunday. Dad had a great birthday: he and mum went to Wales, and by the sound of it had a great time. Over the webcam they showed me a card my brother had sent. On its front was a picture of dad reading to his grandson. It was only a picture book – the kind intended for one year olds – but it also marked a beginning. It was through my fathers deep voice that I gained my love of literature. I loved when dad read to me. Through that voice I fell in love with characters and worlds, as well as the very music of language. As well as reminding me of how much I owe to my father, that picture made me wonder whether, seven or eight years hence, Oliver will hear that voice utter the sentence which really began my love of literature, words I have adored since I first heard them: ‘In a hole, under the ground, there lived a hobbit’. I will forever associate the opening sentence of the Hobbit with the voice of my father, a man whose kindness, wisdom and unconditional love I owe so much to. Through those words, though simply being read to as I grew up, entire worlds were opened up to me. I hope those words, that voice, will soon hold for Oliver the magic they still hold for me,

I was thinking yesterday about the Eurovision song Contest, which of course is on tv tonight. Say what you might about it being camp or twee, it is an event which brings people together. Like the olympics or other sporting competitions, people from different countries come together in friendly rivalry; but unlike in sport they compete through art. Thus it’s the type of event I think we need more of: we already have so many international sporting competitions (the olympics, the world cup, the ashes etc.) why not do the same but through art. I know there are events like international film festivals, but why not have big spectacles on the scale of the olympics? not only would such events increase interest in arts, it would also bring people together, across borders, in discussion. I once outlined a similar idea here. Quite how it will work I don’t know: unlike in sport, there is no clear winner and looser in art, and judging between art works is always very subjective. It just seems to me a good way of uniting people and getting them talking, as sport so often does.

I’m back on politics today, and once again I am yelling at the tv. CaMoron is in Brussels, talking all kinds of rubbish about renegotiating our relationship with the EU. My concern is not that I don’t think the union needs reforming – all such bodies need updating from time to time, just to keep them healthy. My worry is, CaMoron will try to refashion it in his own image: he wants to turn a union of nations, a coming together of peoples into an area where neoliberal greed reigns supreme. He will use these renegotiations for his own ends: he wants to turn the EU into a free trade area where big corporations and billionaires are allowed to shit all over everyone else. What pisses me off even more is that the p’tahk is claiming to speak for the British people. He uses an authority he does not deserve yet nonetheless thinks is his birthright to impose his politics of greed across Europe. The scumbag, already responsible for the misery of thousands, will try to bastardise something noble; going on tv appearing statesmanlike among other european leaders when he should be forgotten as the one-time leader of the opposition, he’ll use an authority he never deserved to turn a project of friendship into one of greed. On top of that, the turds even have the gall to give that shit eric pickles a knighthood! And the worst thing is, there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.

The sun is out for a change, it’s timing impeccable. Today is Lyn’s birthday and I have a feeling it will be a good one. I think she liked the presents I got her, and thanks to Mitchel she as something extra special on the way which we’re both really looking forward to (think cute, furry and four legged). That must wait a few days though, so it’s time to go into the garden, get some tunes going and enjoy the sun.

My birthday wishes also go to dad too, for yesterday – I hope he had a good one. Talk to you soon dad!

When I was growing up at school, I used to play my own little game during break time where I pretended the school building was a starship. My class was the bridge, the nursery department was engineering and, because it lay to one side of the building and was long and thin, residential was a warp drive. Being an avid trekkie, I used to love this game; but it would seem I wasn’t the only one who played it. I just stumbled across this bit of awesomeness. Trekkies in china have actually constructed a building shaped like the Enterprise! While it looks like a fairly conventional modern building from the ground, from the air it is the spit of the Enterprise E, nacelles and all. Apparently, ”it’s no Chinese knock-off: Company Chairman Liu DeJian is reportedly an uberTrekkie, licensing from CBS the rights to build an Enterprise replica. Construction began in 2008 and was finished in 2014; the project cost $160 million total.” I love it – if only architecture i the uk was this cool.

I feel the need to write something about the story just being reported on the bbc news channel. A judge has ruled against a bakery in northern Ireland that refused to make a cake celebrating gay marriage, ordering them to pay £500 damages. It was of course the right ruling: the bakery was obviously discriminating against the couple who ordered the cake. What angers me, though, is the way in which the bakery family try to justify their actions on religious grounds: they have the affront to claim that because their faith prohibits gay marriage, they had a right to refuse to bake the cake. They even go as far as to present themselves as the victims. I’m sorry, but this pisses me off: discrimination is discrimination, and faith is no excuse. Hiding behind a fiction does not make prejudice any less abhorrent. Part of me says people choose to believe in something in order to justify their hatred. After all, sexuality is innate – it cannot be chosen or relinquished at will; religion can. Thus the argument that one form of equality (the freedom to express sexuality) must be weighed against another (freedom of religion) does not wash, as sexuality must outweigh religion. Faith is chosen; it is a set of stories one can choose to believe in or not. And one can choose how to use it: for these bakery people to use it to justify discrimination and then to accuse others of discriminating against them on religious grounds really pisses me off.

While I can’t be totally sure how authentic it is as I’ve seen nothing about it’s providence, I must say I find the first map on this list utterly fascinating. It claims to be an anglo-saxon map of the London area. According to this page, it was ‘put together’ from several sources. It shows the area of what is now London as it may have looked like from 500 to 1066ad, and I could look at it for hours. On my travels around London, it strikes me that the city is like a palimpsest: now and then I think I can glimpse what was here before the urban sprawl. There must have been a time before the metropolis where places like Charlton and Woolwich were separate villages. This map approximates what that area may well have looked like, with forests, marshes and streams between; yet as ever the mighty thames flows through the centre.

I also learn from this map that ‘Charlton’ was originally spelled ‘Cerletone’. I think might use that spelling from now on.

Simply because I’m a fan of Marmite, and it’s fast becoming the internet meme du jour, I think I’ll flag this video up today. Giving marmite to unsuspecting Japanese people and filming their reaction is a bit cruel of course, but it appeals to my sense of humour. In fact I’ve tried something similar once our twice with our polish PAs, only I didn’t record it. And then there was the time dad gave the french exchange student mustard. Anyway, check it out. Meanwhile, L and I have a new toy to play with, which, while in keeping with the theme of videos and interwebs, may or may not involve marmite – more on that soon.

Yesterday afternoon was great – or not so great, if you take the score into account. I took myself to the cricket match in the park again. My team, the Blackheath mighty 8s were playing against a team I never caught the name of. Apart from missing two or three overs while I nipped home for supplies, I was there from start to finish and thoroughly enjoyed it. While my Australian pal James wasn’t there (away enjoying the antiquities of Rome apparently) we had great laugh; I really like the banter. I as a great afternoon in a south London park, although, to be brutally honest, ‘we’ were outclassed: the mighty eights batted first, and were all out for 66. The opposition made their 67 in about 23 overs and with the loss of only one wicket. The problem, I was told, is having been promoted up a league last year, Blackheath now face much stiffer opposition. Mind you, it wasn’t quite as bad as the scorecard makes it seem: just a bit more luck, a few early wickets, and it could have been a completely different story (or so I was told). The score aside, it was nonetheless a great day, out in the park with my cricketing friends; I really can’t wait for their next abysmal loss

It has only just turned noon and already today I have seen news of two death sentences. The Boston Bomber, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, was condemned to die this morning, as was Mohammed Morsi in Egypt. While both men are responsible for horrendous acts, I frankly find it appalling that there are still countries left in the world which still have capital punishment. It is a sickening practice, proven to be ineffective as a deterrent; it’s history is littered with the darkest mistakes. To follow death with death, state sanctioned or otherwise, is no more than base vengeance. As far as I am concerned, any country which retains this abhorrent practice has no right to call itself civilised, and I’m besides myself with rage that there are still people in the Tory party – including that piece of shit Gove – who still advocate it.

What little credibility ukip had a few days ago – and I type that with a tongue in my cheek – is now lost. Farage was on question time last night, trying to act as if he had been begged to stay as ukip leader, and by staying he was doing the right thing. What bull. Obviously one of two things must have happened: Either farage wanted to stay on as leader and engineered the ‘rejection’ of his resignation. Given that one of these pricks stabbed farage in the back he can’t be that well loved, but to hear the ‘dear leader’ speak, it was all said in the heat of the moment, and not really meant. Alternatively the party is a personality cult; a group of closet xenophobes headed by an arrogant bully lusting for power without whom the entire party would disintegrate. Thus either ukip is a personality cult around farage, or the party wanted him to go but the egotistical scumbag wouldn’t. Either way it’s absurd; it would be comic if it wasn’t so dangerous.

I am just looking at olympic stuff again, catching up on the gossip about the bids for 2024. Looking at Boston’s bid, I keep coming across quite a strange attitude. There is currently a lot of opposition to the bid; one of the arguments I keep seeing from the locals there is ”Our city is already special. we have x, y and z pieces of infrastructure. We don’t need the olympics to prove how great our city is.” Of course, they make other arguments over funding etc too. Yet this argument strikes me as oddly telling: it is an argument any city can make. All cities across the world have aspects of greatness. London is renowned the world over as a truly great city, yet it still went in for 2012; Paris is arguably the greatest and most beautiful, but it is still bidding for 2024. If everyone took the attitude of those bostonians, no city would ever bid for the olympics.

I think this tells us quite a lot about the American mindset. It reveals a kind of arrogance. While other peoples see themselves as part of the world and take pleasure in hosting others, americans do not feel the need to reach out in that way. Hosting the olympics is a huge status symbol for a city and a country – a sign that it is a player on the world stage. I get the impression that americans feel they are above that stage, and that the opinions of others don’t matter because only america matters. It implies they feel those cities which have hosted the games are not as great as Boston, and that Boston is somehow automatically superior to places like London and Beijing because it is american. I think his is what is known as american exceptionalism. Thus they shun any initiative from overseas because it is not american. They feel too good to participate with others, above the competition, so many oppose bidding, writing things like ” We don’t oppose the Olympic bid out of an ingrained negativity or a resistance to new things. We do so because we believe that our home is made for bigger, better, and more important things than playing party host.” and when they bid and lose they cry foul. It reveals a kind of arrogance I find worrying, for it betrays a reluctance to participate with the rest of the world, an attitude of superiority and arrogance. The opinions of others do not matter, and nor does participating in events created by non-americans. The olympics are supposed to bring the world together in competitive friendship; for a superpower like the United States to think itself innately above such completion and that all others are automatically inferior is a very worrying state of affairs. I know it is rather odd that I keep returning to this subject, but this is a good example of how one can read a lot about geopolitics and national attitudes in things like olympic bids, which is why I currently find them so fascinating.

It’s odd, when I think about it, how, on one level, nothing has changed since last week. Things still feel as they did: i still go about my business here in charlton.

Today I helped at radio club at school, and went up to b and q for varnish. Apart from the unusually clement weather, South london is the same as is it ever was. Yet the moment I turn on the news or check a news website, I see that everything is different. Every draconian statement our new government make, every attack on the BBC or infringement of free speech, makes the feeling that something is not right deeper, I know it’s only a new government, but we have five years of this to put up with, and it has barely began. We just have to cling to the things they cannot change.

CaMoron and his wife know what it is like to grieve. A few years ago, they famously lost their severely disabled son, Ivan. They know the pain of saying goodbye to someone they love; a pain I saw many times in the eyes of the parents of my friends, and indeed which I have felt more than once. Yet CaMoron has deliberately inflicted that pain on others, and now will do so again many times over: through his cuts, through his greed-based ideology, David CaMoron is sentencing people to death – I see reports of such horrors every day. Yet, as a tory, he does not care: as long as taxes are low, such dying, such grief, is irrelevant to him. How? How can he deliberately inflict on others a pain he too must have felt? Or did he not feel about his son what parents usually feel? I write that in all seriousness, for it is the only sensible explanation. If David CaMoron had a heart, if he had but an ounce of human compassion, he would not be doing what he is doing. But he has no heart, and because of that many more will die, and many more will grieve.