I just have a small observation to record tonight: I was watching the Murray match earlier, when something slightly troubling happened. The camera focussed at one stage on two girls in the crowd, both with Scottish flags painted on their faces, and, possibly for the first time, I wondered whether that had been an overtly political act. Of course, people from all countries have always painted their cheeks like that on on such occasions; those women had every right to do so. And yet, with the referendum coming up, part of me felt it was a political statement, or a show of animosity to us English. I have no idea what their intention was – the girls probably just wanted to support Murray – nor where my feeling came from. In fact I don’t know what my feeling was: concern mixed with, I fear, a kind of resentment. I don’t fully understand where it came from. The fact that I felt such a pang of concern worries me. Could we already be starting to divide? Above all, it already feels like a wedge is being driven between the peoples of this island, giving rise to my suspicions, and that is what I resent the most.

I suppose I have fairly contradictory feelings about the monarchy. I know how I should feel as a liberal leftie: it is an outdated, expensive and undemocratic institution. Yet part of me, I must admit, has a soft spot for good old Liz; as I wrote here, her entrance at the 2012 olympic opening ceremony increased my respect or her. This institution is part of this country’s identity, and in general I see no real harm in it. However, that is provided it keeps to it’s place and does not interfere with how the country is really run. That is why I got a bit angry when I saw this story this morning: for charles to try to influence government policy on something as important as education simply by virtue of his birthright is utterly wrong. He thinks he should have power because he is a member of a certain family. Moreover, he wants a return to an education system which reinforces class devisions. I’m sorry, but someone should put charles in his place. He can keep his pretences and fictions as long as he does not overstep the mark and assume powers he should not have in a democracy; many more stories like this and I’ll think about becoming a republican.

It is now clear that the unelected cretin currently calling himself Prime Minister is putting his own selfish aims before the interests of the country. All thinking people recognise that it is vital that we stay part of the EU, in order that we may work with our neighbours to build a better future. Instead, CaMpron has seized upon the current european election – merely a formality to everyone else – in order to show how strong and decisive he is in ‘standing up to Europe’. In other words, scared of those foolish and simple enough to agree with Farage, he is pandering to ukip-voting morons rather than doing what is best for the county and for humanity. We, as people capable of independent thought, who see the value of multicultural society and cooperation, who see state barriers as the ephemeral lines on the map they are, and who see the folly of Camoron’s short-sighted, short-term neoliberal nationalism, should be up in arms demanding his resignation. He is jeopardising the european project in favour of nineteenth century statism and devision. We urgently need to fight back against the wave of xenophobia dishonestly calling itself euroskepticism currently sweeping the country, an to out ukip as the bigots they are.

I am currently sat outside the gate of charlton house garden. It’s normally open, but tonight, because of the filming, it is firmly shut. Beyond it is a hive of activity: cast in all kinds of costumes, dressed as if for a garden party. I am told Liz Hurley is around somewhere, playing the queen. Thousands of pounds worth of equipment is being wheeled about. It’s quite a surreal sight, if you think about it. The Americans seem fascinated by our royal family – ironic after they fought so hard to ge rid of them – that here they are in charlton making films about them. I can even see guys dressed as beefeaters. It strikes me as a bizarre, fascinating sight, especially given that it’s happening on my doorstep.

My usual Wednesday lunchtime yell at the tv was slightly worse than usual this week. Why do we put up with this? why should the people of this county have to put up with an unellected tory piece of shit lying from the dispatch box every wednesday, arrogantly batting away the very serious questions put to him as if they did not matter? It is now clear that CaMoron knowingly employed a criminal on his staff, yet he seems to think he is above the law and should be at liberty to employ who he pleases. His attempt to pin the blame on the civil service is an insult to our intelligence: the buck stops with Cameron. He owes us his immediate resignation and an apology for the hurt he has caused, but instead the p’tahk stands thee, patting himself on the back, portraying himself as completely innocent and above all criticisms. ENOUGH! People are dying due to tory cuts, yet they reduce taxes – surely we must do something to free ourselves from the bunch of arrogant liars and crooks currently leading the country their own selfish gain. Criminals employing criminals.

Jeez. Not bad for my three-thousandth entry.

I was just speaking to my dad, who was bemoaning the turgid state of British/english sport, especially he cricket. But as I see it, it’s not that bad: the cricket team may not currently be doing that well, but not so long ago we were on top of the world game for the first time in decades. Last year a brit won Wimbledon for the first time in 77 years; even if Murray does not win this year, that is still pretty awesome. Two years ago we put on an amazing olympics, and had our best medal haul ever. Not long ago we won the rugby world cup. When you think about it, there is a lot of glory in British/english sport’s recent past.

However, there is one glaring exception to this: football. When you look at it, english international football has been on epic let-down after another for almost fifty years. I was appalled at their recent performance, and, like many people I’m sure, very pissed off to hear that our players prioritise their club over the international game. Why should anyone have any respect for these overpaid, pampered jackasses? If you ask me, football has betrayed us, letting us all down. That’s why I’m going to ignore it from now on, and concentrate on proper sports more worthy of my respect.

I was over in Bexleyheath this afternoon, just on a routine visit cruising the shopping arcade, when across the sound system came Strawberry Swing. It might sound strange, but not being a particularly avid fan of Coldplay, I have rarely heard that track. In fact, by my reckoning, this afternoon was the one and only time I’ve heard that song outside of the Paralympics. But, of course, as soon as I recognised the faded guitar pattern over the tannoy this afternoon, my mind swept instantly back to that glorious night when Lyn and the Paraorhestra played that very song before the world. I smiled to myself: I reckon I will forever have such moments now; Moments when London 2012 will be mentioned, or something linked to them, an my mind will go back, and I’ll be able to say I was there at that once in our lifetime event, as it lives on in our collective emory. And, as much as Lyn takes it all in her stride, I cannot help but think that is awesome.

Yesterday was quite a fun day for me, mostly spent cruising around visiting people. However, I’m now kicking myself as I should have been somewhere completely different. It seems I missed a huge anti-austerity march up in central London: 50,000 people marched against the government and their cuts. The odd thing is, though, I haven’t heard a peep about this story on mainstream news, which, given the size of the protest, strikes me as odd, ad even somewhat worrying.

Now my masters is all done and dusted, I have started to go through my old files. I did a lot of writing for it which didn’t make it into the final thesis. At one stage during the process, I explored he personal Aspect of filmic love, where I look into the social side of cinephilia. Looking over these short pieces, I see why they were cut. Strictly speaking these anecdotes were not academically relevant as they have little to do with ideas like those concerning the contingent, at the core of cinephilia. Yet part of me wishes I had left them in, as they describe moments i love in both film and my life. For example, I detail the night that tony and Charlie took me to see casino royale, and how that experience in part gave rise to my adoration of the ending of that film. I mention somewhere too that part of my passion for Star Trek stems from my friendship with Andrew fox – I mention his death, but leave out the non academic details which nevertheless enrich the story on a personal, social level.

However, it seems time to put that right. My blog does not need to abide by the same rules as my thesis. In this entry i noted the links part of me wanted to include but didn’t; I also began to touch on this idea here. I will probably include more as and when they occur to me, but it certainly feels like I have started to put something right.

Farewell Brazil it’s all but over.

Two one to equador is pretty dire.

Time to head home, back through Dover

Then decide who to keep and who to fire.

So much for this cup for another four years

Why do we always raise our hopes so high?

We just get rowdy after too many beers

And keep telling ourselves it’s worth a try.

So soon the team will come home

No silver, but nice and brown.

Next time, they’ll say, and we’ll all groan

Once again we feel let down.

I definitely need to flag this sickening news up. While I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the figures, it repots that ”a staggering 700,000 sick or disabled people are stuck in sickness benefit limbo waiting a year or more with no ESA decision. With around 265,000 stuck with no PIP decision, leaving many without disability support they will qualify for and are entitled to.” In other words, over half a million people are being denied the support they need through Tory cuts and penny pinching. This is surely something everyone should be aware of, for maybe then the current government would be treated as the criminals thy are.

I was just on my way back through the park from my usual Thursday morning volunteering session at school, when I came across the sign shown here. Lyn and I had noticed tent going up in he park yesterday afternoon, and, expecting some kind of fair, today I thought a brief investigation was in order. As a film buff, what I discovered is much more exciting than a fair: it seems a company called Privileged Productions is using Charlton house as a location for filming on something called The Royals. Of course I have never heard of either, and a cursory Google didn’t turn up much, but I’m now very excited. There’s a zarking film crewe on my doorstep! What could I see, what could I learn? What contacts could I potentially make?! I’m off to the park.

Let it be recorded that today, the seventeenth day of june 2014, I Matt Goodsell, ate an entire bowl of spiced nuts, picking them up individually with my thumb and forefinger, without dropping one. This may no sound like much, but for me it is a remarkable accomplishment worthy of noting: I astonished myself by not dropping a single nut in a unique feat of dexterity. Mind you, when I enthusiastically pointed this out to Lyn, she cheekily clicked her fingers, something she can do but I cannot. It seems it is hard to impress some people.

It has been a cool couple of days, really,. Saturday evening saw us out in Lewisham, where we met with lyn’s friend mark. That was odd enough: quite uncannily, I randomly bumped into him and his p.a Denny on Thursday at communication works at school. As we had agreed due to my hurry that morning, Denny then phoned here and organised a Saturday night pub trip. That was a very cool evening, although we didn’t stay out for the big football match. During the meeting, though, we of course discussed the time, now six or seven years ago, that Denny had supported Lyn on one of our first weekends together up in Alsager. We then collectively recalled that that was the weekend when Lyn first met Charlotte, and we resolved that, since C now lives in Liverpool, as do Mark and Denny, meeting there would be fun. Denny suspected she and Mark would get on like a house on fire. I agreed, but thought no more about it after coming home and falling asleep on the sofa during the match.

But then the oddest thing happened. Yesterday was a quiet day: Sally cancelled the planned meeting; I went out but stayed out of the pubs. Last night, however, i got a Facebook message from Charlotte herself, proposing brunch this morning in new cross. I still hear from her from time to time, of course; but she’s such a busy person that the coincidence struck me as remarkable. She was down this weekend and couldn’t go back north without seeing her favourite cripple. Of course I went to meet her, and had a lovely coffee with her and her brother. During the discussion, what should be suggested but a meet up in Liverpool in August! I don’t ordinarily believe in things like fate, but it looks like the fates want me to go to Liverpool this summer. Even I must agree the coincidence is spooky. How odd that the two events happen in such quick succession – and how glorious. Looks like an awesome night out on merseyside is on the horizon.

Just a quick note today to wish my mum a happy birthday, and dad a happy father’s day. They told me yesterday on skype that they have a day out planned today, so with luck they’ll currently be having a great time. I know I can be a pain, and that I often give them cause for worry – that is, after all, my job as a middle son – but I also know how proud they are of me, as I am of them, and that means more than I can say. Have a great day, guys!

Controversial as some may see it, I’d just like to flag this article up debunking the myth that it is the dream of every cripple to walk. I can walk up to a point, but use my chair for longer distances; I don’t sit around bemoaning my inability to walk as my chair works perfectly well. Thus the insistence of some that we must walk at all cost essentially boils down to the imposition of a type of conformity. As the article points out, ”The implicit message from the media seems to be, ‘Wheelchairs suck! Walk in this robot instead!”’ referring to the more and more Borgish devices they are making for disabled people to enable them to walk. But wheelchairs do not suck, and I refuse to conform to an arbitrary notion of normality, especially when it is tiring, painful and sometimes dangerous. Yet what puzzles me is, why does that seem such a difficult concept for others to grasp?

I often wonder why so much emphasis is placed on the correspondance between dress (attire) and gender by society. It seems to me odd that it matters so much. After all, what matters is the person within, not the appearance without. Going around town in my chair, people judge me on my appearance, assuming that I have a learning difficulty, when in fact I have a Master’s degree, a nascent film-making career and a superstar for a fiancee. Appearances deceive, so why do others seem to want to cling to stereotypes and rules? Am I missing something? Why is something so arbitrary to me so fundamental to others? I say clinging to such conventions only reinforces boundaries, such as those between men and women, which is why I try to subvert them,* and why I fully support the sentiments expressed in this Huffington Post article. In it, it is pointed out that outdated, contradictory views persist in the workplace, despite it’s pretence to be inclusive. Why should it be that some lifestyles or forms of self-expression are frowned upon and seen as ‘unprofessional’? At the end of the day it surely does not matter as long as the work is done? As I see it, the sooner we stop clinging to such outdated conventions and stereotypes, the sooner we just see people as people and let them wear what they like, the better.

*Although at the back of my mind the question persists: is overt nonconformity just a type of conformity? After all, one must pay attention to what others wear to subvert it; and if everyone thought and acted like I did, I would just be conforming.

I am a really lucky sod, and I mean really! I still can’t believe my luck at what happened yesterday: Sally and Luke invited me over to their place for a meeting with two people sally knows. Truth be told I didn’t quite know what to expect, but I took the 54 over there after leaving school. Unfortunately yesterday was the communication works event there, so I was a bit gutted at having to leave early. It was worth it, though: I rolled up to Sally’s at about two, to find her and Luke sitting outside with two more people I didn’t recognise. It turned out they were Sally’s friends from the world of film; they had worked with Sally, an actor/producer, before, and had come to advise Luke and I about our film. It was a wonderful meeting: they taught me so much about writing for film. They come from the industry rather than academic side of things, so I got tips never covered in my old creative writing class. One invaluable pointer was to add as much detail in the screen directions as possible, so that when a prospective producer reads it, he instantly sees what you intend and is more likely to go forward with it. They also showed us some of their work – low budget, short, with a kind of unusual aesthetic, yet pretty damn good, try to check out The Last Waltz (2014). A wonderful, haunting little film.

Great, great stuff from a great great meeting; yet it seems I have lot of work to do. I now have a film to write, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll post this and get on with it.

Lyn and I are sat i our garden. The sun is out, and there is washing drying on the white frames. Lyn is tapping away at her iPad, mumbling to it, trying to select the first track of a mix. For now all is quiet, although no doubt that will soon change for we have friends coming. I think about the day just ending’ and the busy one i expect tomorrow. This, then, is one of those moments: a moment of quiet, if bliss; a moment when you can just sit peacefully with the person you love and reflect on how good life is.

This is probably one of my favourite pictures from our Paris trip. While we didn’t go into the museum itself this time, I’m with my favourite person in one of my favourite places.

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

Mind you, it kind of looks like I’m pointing out something on Lyn’s face, although in fact we were about to steal a kiss.

Although the title initially struck me as a bit Dungeons and Dragons, this article by Tom Shakespeare is worth a read. In it, Shakespeare argues that redividing Britain into seven nations, as it was in the dark ages, might be a more efficient way of governing Britain. Each ministate would have about five million people, making it more community-oriented. As he says, ”The new dispensation would suit the traditionalists, because it would be rooted in a history going back to the Dark Ages, and it would suit progressive types, because it’s all about devolution and bringing power closer to the citizen.” But, good academic that he is, he also points out the disadvantages of such a system, such as increased bickering between states: ”Then I remembered that another drawback of localism might be nimby-ism (Not In My Back Yard). When citizens think at the level of their immediate community, they fail to see the common interest that they share with others in their wider society, so they reject that hostel for recovering drug addicts. They tend to be more short term than long term in their analysis, so they reject those wind turbines. They can end up being selfish and defensive and competitive with others.” He goes on to state his support for the e.u, a stance I totally agree with. Definitely worth reading, and mulling over, over one’s sunday morning coffee.

Things are probably about to get hectic for me: yesterday I was over at UEL, where they were holding a fair showcasing their work in multimedia advocacy. That, in itself, was pretty awesome – they had several high-tech systems set up for people to try. I was supposed to be showing people how to use them, although I’m not sure how effective I was; as usual, I got distracted and starting talking to people. At one point I even had a chat with Lord Rix, who established the Rix centre. He is a great guy, about ninety, a former actor and very active and alert – the type of old thespian who addresses people as ‘darling’ or ‘lovie’. I also had a chat with andy, who runs the centre: I can’t go into detail, but he wants me to help me with something pretty damn big – and I mean huge. It sounded very exciting, although given it is quite an intellectual distance from my work with mmu, I probably need to go to some effort to refocus. It shouldn’t be too hard, but that, along with my work with Luke and Sally, Charlton School and GAD, means I will probably spend fewer days just lozzocking on the sofa watching Judge judy.

Seventy years ago, tonight

We sent so many boys to fight How much blood was shed that day, over the sea and far away?

***

Into northern France they went to their deaths so many sent

Yet Winston’s command they must obey

Over the sea and far away

***

as they did so long before At another time, in another war told they were keeping evil at bay over the sea and far away

***

Omaha, Gold, juno and sword

Off to serve an Overlord

Into German guns, come what may

Over the sea and far away

I know it’s rough, but I thought I’d share this with you this evening. Very much a first draft, it’s a diagram of the relationships I draw between some of the things I’m most interested in. Given that such explorations cold be seen as a facet of both fandom and cinephilia, I think this could lead to some interesting research. More personally, to me, this diagram illustrates why the olympic opening ceremony is so important to me.

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

I have just come back from the Rix centre, where I just enjoyed a very interesting afternoon. One of their interns there, John, is about to go back to the states, and I was asked to help interview him about his experiences. I found myself talking to a fascinating fellow: a technical sort of guy, John designs and creates Ipad apps which help people with learning difficulties interact with medical professionals in various ways. He clearly knew his subject back to front, and our conversation ranged from the growing ubiquity of Ipads to the way in which London differs from cities in america. Concerning the former, I was struck by how Ipads seem to be used for just about everything these days, from music creation to communication. As Apple addicts saw last night, Apple is now creating some truly interesting stuff; but what John pointed out to me is that the ipad is also great for third-party designers. Ipad apps are apparently very easy to make and customise: to hear him talk, it sounded like the perfect tool capable of meeting any need. I daresay L would have loved talking to him. It is a pity John is leaving for the states so soon as I’d love to talk to him more, and perhaps put one or two of the reservations I’ve heard to him about how the Ipad is becoming the default solution to any problem, to the detriment of more tailored, built-for-purpose devices. I am, like many people, becoming more and more convinced that apple is the way forward, but can’t let myself forget that other operating systems still exist. Yet I worry slightly that that is the way things seem to be going.

Not that I’m the most avid follower of such matters, but I note today that there is speculation that bidding for the 2022 world cu might be reopened, and that the tournament might now come to Britain. Of course, the chances of that happening are very slim indeed, yet I can’t help but get my hopes up. I had so much fun with the London Olympics, I just think it would be fantastic to see another big sporting event held here. The Olympics seemed awesome to me, and, given that the chances of London hosting them again in my lifetime are minimal, the world cup might be the best way to recapture that magic. No doubt the Paraorchestra could perform again, and, who knows, maybe 007 would be put on monarch escort duty again. Mind you, all that places the questions over whether we could afford to host the event to one side, nevermind the fact that we only got one vote when the ballot was first run.

I spoke to my parents on Skype earlier. They’re fine, of course. They mentioned, though, that the queen’s baton passes through my old home town, congleton, today. Proceedings can be monitored here. Of course, this is hardly worth mentioning, except for personal nostalgia purposes: it has been ages since I visited the old place, so it is good to see it flagged up. Mind you, I am a bit puzzled over why Congleton gets special mention; it isn’t that notable a town, yet the beeb headline is ‘Queen’s Baton Relay England: Manchester and Congleton’. Why not Crewe or Macclesfield. How curious.

A considerable part of my master’s thesis focusses on a scene from Star Trek First contact: I write at some length about my relationship to this scene, my attraction to it, and about how I read my own emotions on the face of Patrick Stewart. Thus I’ve had this scene in my mind for quite some time, and I’ve grown incredibly attached to it. Now that my master’s is over, a small silly part of me would rather like Mr. Stewart to read my thesis. Of course, I”m not sure what it would achieve, and smeg knows why he would want to read it in the first place, but I think part of me wants his approval. I want to show him how much the scene matters to me, and, perhaps, to say thanks. If I’m going to act on this whim, the question is, how to contact the great man. Any ideas?

Assuming a wheelchair-accessible version is made, google’s idea of a car that drives itself may be just up mine and Lyn’s street. Conceivably, all we would need to do is tell it where to take us – perhaps via our ipads – and we’d be off. From what I have seen of it, the technology in this car is impressive, and I’m sure it would b fully tested to make sure it is safe, so it could be just the thing we need for full independence. No more busses! I can’t wait. Mind you, a small, childish part of me is itching to see what Jeremy Clarkson says about it.

The glorious thing about being me, Knowing I’m not what people see, knowing the irony of their presumption that there’s more to me than their assumption I’m not as dull as they take me to be that’s the irony of being me how I love quietly knowing that there’s more to me than might be showing.

It seems we now have to put up with the obnoxious, utterly objectionable sight of Nigel Farage hailing his ‘victory’ in the european elections. It is almost too much for me to stomach: I still contend that, if people actually thought about what he and his party advocate, they would not touch it with a barge pole. But then, the average ukip supporter seems unable to think for his or herself. Regardless, we now have a major problem: a xenophobic, homophobic party has now lied it’s way into mainstream british politics: one that seeks to abandon european cooperation; one that denies climate change; one that would abolish independent living for disabled people; one that thinks men should have the right to beat their wives. For goodness sake we have to do something. Farage and his band of morons must be countered. In Scotland they have the snp, whom I’m slowly warming to: should Scotland become independent,, I’m seriously considering suggesting to Lyn that we move north at least they’re leftist. Without Scottish support, Labour might never be elected again, leaving the u.k to permanent tory rule. Here in England things are drifting more and more to the right, and now have a pseudofascist free to espouse his hateful views. Surely we most act: with the three main parties doing nothing, we must fight together against this bigot, before he has us all sleepwalking into somewhere dark.

I might have been assuming more than I should, but yesterday afternoon got a touch uncomfortable at times. I was out on one of my usual Saturday afternoon saunters: the local cricket match had been rained off, so I thought I would go see if anything was happening in Woolwich. There was…

On the way back from the shops, I thought I’d pop into the Kings Arms for a crafty pint. It is now run by an Afro-Caribbean fellow who seems to like me. When I go in there, the place is usually half empty, but yesterday it was packed. The brutal killing of Lee Rigby was commemorated yesterday, so the pub, just a stones throw from the scene, was serving as a convergence point for those attending. While I think any murder is sickening, I must admit I’m not that agitated about the subject; however, what both scared and interested me was the type of people in there. Without wanting to stereotype, the group struck me as largely male, fairly young to middle aged, and loud. Overhearing them talk, many were uttering the type of opinion I usually loath – they seemed like people who vote ukip or bnp. Frankly, some looked scary, and part of me wanted to speed home. Yet I was also intrigued: by staying, I might learn something.

It occurred to me, though, that this was evidence of something slightly worrying. Lee Rigby’s death is being used by the far right: he was killed by two angry, unbalanced men, but the fact that they were Muslims and cited the war on terror as their motive is fuel to the far right’s fire. Their savage actions last year have been seized upon, and have become totemic for the far right. That worries me very much indeed: on one level, yesterday’s events struck me as a rally for xenophobes, o that there had been an attempt by some to turn it into one.

In the end, however, I was never in much danger. The crowd was largely peaceful, and one guy even bought me a beer. An hour or so after I went into the pub, it suddenly emptied. I went on my way after finishing my drink, reflecting on what I had just seen. I may have been wrong about the crowd – after all, I may have bee making judgmental generalisations. Yet the bad taste in my mouth remained: the killing of Lee Rigby is being used to stir up intercultural hatred, as a totemic vent for the far right, and that seems very wrong indeed.

It seems to me that any sensible, thinking, educated person should be very worried indeed this morning. Granted, the Tories may have got the thwacking they deserve – although no thwacking would be hard enough, in my opinion, given the pain they are inflicting on some of the most disadvantaged people in society – but it appears UKIP have made very real and substantial gains. This should send a shudder down our collective back: while you could comfort yourself by dismissing it as a protest vote, the fact remains that this pseudofascist group now has a real presence in this country. I mean what I say when I use that term: look at any ukip policy, from education to immigration, and it reveals a draconian, intolerant, outdated mindset; look at anything a ukip member says, and you will find racist, sexist views. Their protests that they are not against immigration, but just want the ability to chose ‘the right kinds of immigrant’ reeks of self-deception. Surely anyone can see through that placatory sham to the xenophobia beneath. And while their stance towards disability seems vague, and indeed keeps changing, their anti-inclusion, anti-independence attitude would reduce us crips third class citizens; one of their members apparently recently called for the automatic abortion of foetuses with Downs Syndrome.

The question, of course, is why: why are people voting for this party? Why are people listening to it’s outdated, draconian pronouncements? I look at their views, their arrogance, their intolerance, and wonder how anyone could still think like them. Some commentators put it down to a protest vote; others point to the appeal of Farage, presenting himself as a no-nonsense, everyday guy. I look at Farage and see a con-man, thirsty for power hateful of difference, greedy and arrogant. Ho can people fall for him? how can people blind themselves to the hatred at the core of ukip? How can they not realise ukip is the cause of, not the solution to, the growing xenophobia in the uk? How can people listen to his lies and fool themselves into thinking ukip stands for them, and is not the intolerant sham it is? I do not know, but the fact that they do, and have, fills me with absolute fear and dread.

I forgot to wish my dad a happy birthday yesterday. I did intend o, but forgot, and now I feel bad about it. Truth be told, I realise I may not be the cooperative of sons. We argue sometimes. Yet whenever we do, it always feels like something is wrong with the world, as if something is amiss that needs urgently to be put right. My father is one of the kindest, most decent men I know, and I love him as much now as I always have.

Today is Lyn’s birthday. It has been a busy sort of day so far, so we have not had time to do much celebrating. Yet the evening is still young, and it won’t take long for Lyn to get one of her awesome mixes going. Time, then, to relax, put my fears and worries aside, Skype dad, and go chill out with the birthday girl.

Lyn and I got back from paris late yesterday evening, my love for the city greater than ever, yet slightly tempered. We had a wonderful trip, which included quite an epic walk along the Seine on sunday afternoon, and, of course, meeting my nephew Oliver on saturday. I have never seen a cuter, happier baby; mark and kat obviously adore him. I am really looking forward to watching him grow up – judging from his parents, he’ll be very bright indeed. He was as good as gold on saturday night, when we all met in the hotel restaurant for a huge family meal. Looking around the table on saturday, I could not have felt happier. It was then, too, that Mum and Dad presented me with a bound hardback copy of my Master’s thesis, sleek and black – it made me feel very proud of myself.

Although it was a family occasion, Lyn and I had most of the weekend to ourselves, allowing us to explore the city. We had our PAs, Dominik and Paul with us; they were excellent this weekend, pushing us endlessly through the beautiful, winding streets. As with my last Parisienne adventure I’m not going to even try to give a full step by step account, as something essential would be lost in the rendition. I must note, though, that the people there struck me as slightly ruder this time: I’m not sure what it was, but they seemed very arrogant and abrasive, walking into your path as you were walking down the pavement, giving you dirty looks, pushing past you. Also, Paris didn’t strike me as very wheelchair friendly this time: now that I’ve lived in London for a while, I have something to compare it wit. London is far from perfect, but at last the public transport is over halfway accessible, and you can always find a drop-curb when you need to wheel off a pavement.

That aside, I still love the city: there is something about paris which is so evocative and romantic. I was thrilled to be there with Lyn, eating out with her, listening t live music with her. It has been a wonderful weekend, and it was over too quickly. Three days is not enough time to explore such a great city. It is not that hard to get to, though, so I definitely would like to go back soon, especially now I have my little nephew to visit there.

Back again from a lovely weekend,

Through the crowds to home we wend

Through the crowds as the sky goes black

Good to have gone, great to be back

To paris we went, to meet my nephew

It was lovely to be there, particularly with you.

There as a family, whole as one

Dad and brothers, baby and mum.

So as we push on, homeward bound

I think back to what I found

Getting to see Paris with the one I adore,

Meeting the nephew I’d not met before.

There are some things too special for a blog entry, too unique to shsre, too personal to be made public. I’ll try to fill you in about this incredible weekend when I can, but for now, I can just record tha I have never been prouder, happier or more content than I am now.

This morning I woke in a large comfortable bed in a Paris hotel room. Lyn was lying beside me, asleep. In that moment of bliss, I recalled how, yesterday, we had travelled here on Eurostar. It had been a long day: I had been constantly worried that I would forget something or slip up somehow. It had been quite a relief, then, to roll up to the hotel yesterday evening to see dad standing there. He greeted us, and helped us out of the cramped taxi.

My mind then moved on to the day to come: how my entire family is here, and how I will shortly meet my new nephew for the very first time. I could.not wait, but that is still yet to come, this evening. I will shortly see both my brothers for the first time since attaining my masters. No doubt they will point out that I am but a master where they are doctors, but that is all part of being a member of this wonderous family of mine.

So there I was this morning, lying in bed in the city I love the most, about to snuggle up close to the woman I love the most, looking forward to a truly memorable day. And as Lyn put her arm around me, I thought, life can’t get much better than this.

Today I just want to direct everyone here, to a video Lyn made explaining how she uses Caustic 3, a music making app for the Ipad. You know, L is a born teacher; in fact she used to teach when she lived in Cardiff. I think she should seriously consider going back to it, she does it so naturally. Anyway, enjoy the vid, and learn from a pro!

I just endured the stomach-churning spectacle of david CaMoron and his fellow tory shits patting their selves on the back at PMQs at recent growth figures. Granted, the economy might indeed at last be recovering, but on monday I saw precisely what that recovery is built upon. Many people, especially those with disabilities, are suffering: they are being pushed to the limit and over it; many have taken their own lives. Lyn still wonders why I get so agitated watching it every wednesday, but how can anyone not be? How can anyone, with even a shred of humanity, bear the sight of this unelected Etonian fucker stand up in westminster abbey and pretend what he is doing is right? Knowing what I know, it is almost too much for me to stomach. It would not be so bad if we had a charismatic Labour leader who stood up to him, but we have ed: I’m afraid to say I still can’t see him ever becoming PM, which is a truly depressing thought. Then again, at least Milliband is a decent human being, which is more than can be said of CaMoron or any tory.