Last night I had an amazing yet wholly unexpected treat. Lyn had been sent tickets by a man at the Southbank centre, whom we hope she’ll be able to work with. It was for a concert, and she invited me along. To be honest I didn’t know what to expect – it could have been any type of music, any type of concert. Yet, as it turned out, it was just as much a treat for me as it was for Lyn: fate had sent us to a screening of Carl Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928) set to live music. This is a classic bit of cinema, one of the cornerstones of early film, and to get to see it on the big screen was incredible. Some of the shots were absolutely beautiful: Dreyer kept using close-ups of Joan’s face, which, to begin with, I found faintly irritating, but then I realised how emotive her face was: he used it as a refrain – a piece of text to keep coming back to. I was intrigued.

Even more intriguing was that the live orchestra did not use the score of the original film, but had composed new music for it. I think it fitted the film quite well, although, as a film buff, I must raise my eyebrow at it. It sort of shifts authorship away from the original director, which raises all kinds of interesting questions. Is it right to tamper with such a classic text? It is probably best to describe a concert like the one last night as post-modern, which allows such fusions of old and new. Indeed, I think the performance last night was very post-modern indeed, as it was the fusion of three texts: the medieval court records of the original trial of Joan of arc, mentioned in the opening film; the 1928 movie based on those records; and the contemporary score, complete with awesome-sounding electric guitars. I must say I find such a convergence fascinating to reflect on.

I think I got a lot out of last night. It gave me a lot to think about. On top of that, I got very excited when I noticed they were using an ancient reel-to-reel projector. All told, it was an incredible night for me – I can’t believe my luck sometimes.

A very quick one tonight: I ought to state explicitly on here that this wasn’t me, just in case anyone asks.

I think I will just be a lazy blogger today and direct you to two articles I stumbled across this morning. This first one concerns quite a furore stirred up online: apparently, according to one Tory MP, we crips spend too much time on twitter when we should be out finding work. Conservative MP Nadine Dorries said: ” If you Twitter all day, every day, about claiming disability benefit in one tweet whilst arranging a night out in the pub in the next […] don’t expect someone like me not to a) inform the authorities and b) tell you to get of [sic] your Twitter and get a job.” If you ask me, this is typical of the Tories – the internet is a godsend for many disabled people, allowing us to communicate far more efficiently; it lets us conduct our lives. Yet the Tories just think we’re wastrels hanging around facebook.

The second article I want to direct you to, here, concerns something just as stupid. Disabled people below the age of seventeen are being denied the wheelchairs that best suit them because of some quirk in the law which prevents them from driving class three vehicles. Many disabled kids need quite a bit of kit, such as electric wheelchairs with seat-raisers, chair-mounted communication aids, and so on. But this means their chairs have to be sturdy and heavy, and ”the 1988 Road Traffic Act not only bans children under 14 from using very technologically advanced wheelchairs – a ‘class three vehicle’ weighing up to 150kg – but it classes wheelchairs heavier than 150kg as cars, which can only be driven legally by over 17s who hold a driving licence.” This means that charities are prevented by law from giving kids the chairs that best fit their needs. How obscenely stupid is that?

Here you have two pertinent disability related articles, both examples of the type of stupidity we crips have to put up with. It seems I can still do the ”link and comment” type entry after all.

It is funny how such a corny old joke can amuse someone so much. We were talking in the garden yesterday with chopper, and the subject of sport came up. Lyn said we were very good at football. This took chopper aback: ”how do you mean?” He asked. Lyn replied that we were both good at dribbling. Now, I have known this joke since I was little; since my grandma took me and my brother Mark to thee park to play football, when I was still in my pram. Yet chopper howled with laughter upon hearing it, and today hasn’t stopped repeating it to almost everyone we meet. He seems to think it’s one of the funniest things he’s ever heard. I just think its odd to reflect on how, to those new to the disability community, such jokes can act as a release, helping them to realise that, sometimes, perfectly fine bad to laugh at disability. Chopper has become used to me, and we both poke fun at each other, yet the way he guffawed so heartily made me think he’d kind of realised something: I reckon that sometimes it needs such a corny old pun to let others know it’s okay to laugh.

We went to my grandmother’s house in Harlesden yesterday for Easter Sunday. Just like at Christmas, it felt wonderful to see everyone; although the place wasn’t quite as full as then, I always relish seeing my family. My cousin Cyril was there, whom I hadn’t seen in quite some time, and it was interesting to hear that he’s thinking about developing things for people with disabilities using his background in neuroscience.

We al had a great time, and it was good to see Lyn fast becoming a member of the family. An odd thought occurred to me though: I was struck by the contrast between the type of conversation held by my family and the type of conversation people hold down here in south London. It’s like my family live on a totally different sphere of existence to where I now live. They were talking about stuff like the housing market and the value of modern art, things which would, by and large, probably be of absolutely no consequence to most of the people I meet around Charlton. I guess this is hard to explain without sounding patronising or judgemental: I’m not trying to imply quality or worth here; it just struck me how vast the social, cultural and economic differences between some people are. I need to think this through before I write more about it, but I must say the contrast really did hit me yesterday.

This is my blog and I should be able to record what I whish on it, so tonight I want to record Lyn’s laugh. We were out in the garden again this afternoon, sitting and talking with friends. We were cracking the occasional joke, as you do. Suddenly, although it was at my expense, someone made a joke which sent my fianc into hysterics. Lyn creased up – it seemed to render her incapable. I just want to say how truly brilliant seeing her like that felt: Lyn is a bit of an old soul, and she’s been through a lot, but seeing her laugh like that – as uncontrollably as a child – felt wonderful tonight. It gave me a moment of pure joy. I know blogs are meant for political commentary or social observation, but it occurs to me that recording something so ephemeral as the joy one gets from hearing your partner laugh is just as important, for that is where our humanity lies.

If anyone is reading this, in the next few days, and you’re in England, you must be mad. Why aren’t you outside enjoying the sun? It was lovely out there earlier – Lyn and I spent the afternoon in the garden, bright sunshine streaming down. In fact it was so hot I had to put on my distinctly unstylish straw hat. I know I shouldn’t just blog about the weather – it must be the brit in me. There are far more compelling things to blog about, but I just can’t get over how summerish it feels, especially given it’s a bank holiday. Anyway stop reading second-rate weblogs and go outside for zark’s sake!

Last night saw one of the coolest evenings we have had in a good while, although it was the warmest. We decided to have a barbeque – the sun was out, the sky was clear, and I think we were in the mood for a party. Truth be told, though, I think it was chopper’s idea mostly. We decided to have one Tuesday evening, so yesterday afternoon, Chopper and I went to Asda to get some supplies. I think, though, he had slightly grander ideas than I did – I had envisaged just cooking some sausages and chicken and eating them outside with a few beers, but, thanks to chopper, last night saw us cooking a mountain of food on his whacking great barbeque with a few other friends in our back garden.

That we can have a barbeque this early in the year still strikes me as slightly worrying, but I can’t worry too much after such a great night. There was talking and music and laughter, and, best of all, the tastiest burgers I’ve had in a long while. There’s so much left over that we might have another, smaller one tonight – I can’t wait.

Facebook has informed me that today is Emma’s birthday. I know that just writing blog entries to notify the world of my friends’ birthdays is fairly dull blogging, which is why, save perhaps for charlotte’s, I don’t usually do it. Yet something today struck me: it has been a good two or three years since I saw the majority of my friends from university. As I’ve written on here before, I know this to be a natural part of the human condition; people who go to places like university or school together tend to drift apart. It’s just a fact of life. Yet Emma Avery and I were once reasonably close, and shared many cool adventures. I remember vividly the day we went bowling together. Now we both have partners, of course, and she has a small son, but it strikes me as, well, not quite sad but regrettable that we have not seen each other in such a long time, and might not do so for quite some time. With that in mind, though, I better just whish her a great birthday, and say that I hope she has a great night tonight.

No doubt most people will know that the London marathon was today. I hadn’t realised it ran straight through Charlton. I only noticed this when, a few weeks ago, big yellow signs started appearing in the village saying the road will be closed. I turned on the TV this morning and saw images of Blackheath and Woolwich; places I know very well now. I was disappointed that I didn’t catch any pictures of Charlton, although they did show the Valley football ground, which is just down the hill. I was tempted to get dressed and go watch, but I needed a shower, although later when we went to the co-op for some groceries we saw the road had been fenced off. This is, of course, just by-the-by, but I find it amazing to realise I was so close to such a huge event.

Has it occurred to anyone else that facebook is becoming the internet? I was thinking about this the other day: how can one website have become so huge that it now seems to be a significant part of our culture? I mean, so many people now use it that it is assumed that people are on it, and often say things like ”I’ll look you up on facebook” without actually establishing they’re on it. Its status can also be seen in films, I think: not only have we had quite a large film about Facebook’s creation, but characters now openly refer to facebook on screen. For instance I just heard that, in the forthcoming American Pie sequel, the characters meet up ten years after the previous film after organising a reunion on facebook. In the past, I think they would have just referred to the internet generally, rather than one specific website. How can one site hold such an enormous position in society? Where people used to say ”email me” or ”phone me” (ie use general terms) it is becoming to say ”message me on facebook”. It just seems odd to me, and I thought it worth drawing your attention to. I don’t any website has held such a position – not even myspace. Mind you, as a disabled person, I must say that having such a huge social network which I can access very easily is extremely useful indeed.

I must say that the GAD meeting today has made me very excited indeed. Blind luck, fate, or whatever has found me on the committee of a local disability action group. We had a fairly long meeting today: I was introduced to the other members, and we discussed what to focus on. As in the rest of the country, the government are planning massive cuts to many services used by disabled people. We are planning to bring the effect of these cuts to the attention of others in a variety of ways. For instance, I and another guy are going to work together to make a film, which we will post on Youtube.

There is something I must make explicit now though. What I post on this blog is unrelated to the views of GAD. That is to say, I tend to be quite vitriolic on my blog about disability issues, but these views may or may not be shared by the organisation I am now a member of and campaign for. The two things must be seen as separate. I just needed to make that clear.

Anyway, exciting times indeed! I can’t wait till our next meeting.

Something very interesting has happened, but this time it didn’t involve any television news crews. A few days ago, my social worker came to call. (yeah, yeah, I have a social worker. I know the risks, but social workers can be very handy people sometimes). We were doing a little review: I told her that I am generally very pleased with how things are going, but sometimes I got a little restless. Sometimes I feel I need something to take me out of the house – I volunteer at school, but that’s only two half-days a week. I need to be occupied a bit more, so my social worker suggested getting in touch with GAD, the Greenwich Association of Disabled People. I looked up their website but didn’t go much further. However, yesterday I got an email from then, inviting me to a meeting tomorrow. Apparently, they wanted me to get involved in some kind of sub-committee.

I was, of course, very interested, but I was not familiar with the address they gave: a place called the forum, in Greenwich. Last night I looked it up on google maps, and it didn’t seem too far away, so today I decided to do some reconnaissance to avoid being late tomorrow. Chopper was with me, so we found the place easily. We went in, and asked for GAD. A guy with a white beard was called for, and they explained, to my great surprise and joy, that they had invited me to a meeting about the forthcoming anti cuts protest for disabled people – ‘the Hardest Hit’.

I’m now really looking forward to tomorrow. I finally get to be a real activist. How much I’ll be able to help them, of course, remains to be seen. Some of what happens in tomorrows meeting might be classified, but if I can I’ll let you know how it goes. Finally, I might get to participate in some real activism!

Today marks the fiftieth anniversary of Uri Gagarin’s historic first space flight, and I just wanted to note this historic event on my blog. It has nothing to do with disability politics or anything, and anyone reading this will probably have known already, but there’s something about space travel which really captures my imagination. I think we forget today how truly monumental that event was: for the first time in human history, someone had broken free of the earth’s gravity. It probably felt like the start of a new era fir mankind, but right now it seems that the adventure has stalled. People just don’t seem so enthused about the prospect of space travel any more. I, however, continue to hope and dream: space travel, I believe, is our destiny, and it is in that spirit and the spirit of this day fifty years ago that I direct you here.

I write this, of course, as both an atheist and a Rossbiff, but I must say that the news that France has banned Muslim women from wearing the full buhrka strikes me as pretty damn stupid. As a liberal, I naturally hold two opposing points of view on this: on the one hand, I think women have the right to dress as they whish, and the state has no right who can wear what. But, by the same token, I don’t think religion should dictate dress-code either.

Once you start to think about it, this is a very complex issue. How does one balance the right to religious freedom with the right of women to be seen as equals? Women are equal to men, which is partly why France banned them from wearing something which made them appear unequal to men; but, if they are equal to men, should they not have just as much right to wear whatever they wish as anyone else? When put this way, this law is self-contradictory: in trying to defend the rights of women, France has, in fact, oppressed them more. Before this ban, all French women could wear whatever they wanted – if they chose to wear the veil, they had that right.

I know it’s not quite that simple. The fear is that women are forced into wearing the veil by their husbands, so this ban would free them from that religious oppression. For starters, that assumes women in Muslim households are utterly subservient and have no choice in what they wear or do, which I doubt is often the case. Secondly, what about a woman’s right to express themselves, including their religion. Did it not cross the minds of the French parliament that the veil is worn out of choice? Do French Muslim women not have a right to express their selves?

This is therefore a highly simplistic act. Yes, it seeks to free women from oppression, but simply to ban it is even more oppressive and intolerant. It’s counterproductive too, as French Muslims will now feel even more oppressed and thus more likely to take hardline stances. French society will become more segregated – it seems it is becoming less and less tolerant. Moreover, it seems to me that this ban has wider implications: if they ban buhrkas, have the French also banned headscarfs, balaclavas and zentai suits? Although I have major objections to organised religion, I object far more to what the French government has done. This is an extremely stupid thing to do, and will cause more problems than it solves.

I could go into this much more deeply, and I’m sure others have. I’ve just incoherently scratched the surface here. But I’m very worried about this: whatever question we might have about religion, the status of women in Muslim households, or whatever, simply to enforce this carpet ban will only lead to trouble.

I know it is two days late, but I’d just like to wish my parents a happy anniversary. If memory serves, they have been married for thirty-one years, which, in the times in which we live, is pretty good going. I’ve written on here before what amazing parents they are; even now I’m living 200 miles away from them, I’m still finding their support and advice invaluable. I can’t really say how much they mean to me without getting smulchy – if indeed I haven’t already – so I’ll just say that I hope they had a great anniversary.

I really cannot get over just how nice the weather has been for the last few days, especially given the time of year. Yesterday, when I got up, I looked out and saw one of the clearest blue skies I have ever seen. It is warm too – I was able to quite comfortably go about in just a tee-shirt for most of the day. I’m not usually able to do that until at least June or July. It is lovely – the type of weather that makes you feel happy, and the prospect of a barbeque at Chopper’s later makes it even better. I’m not sure how long it’ll last, and there’s a voice in the back of my head forecasting torrential rain come Monday and screaming ”this is all due to climate change!”, but all I need now is a Test Match on the radio and I’d be in heaven.

It would probably be rather lax of me if I didn’t direct you here, to a well-written, well-argued article by Ouch’s disability Bitch. It is about Jeremy Irons’ recent comments that smokers, as a minority, should qualify for ‘protection’ just as disabled people or children do. Ms. Bitch simply follows Irons’ argument to it’s logical conclusion. While I’m not as anti-smoking as I once was, this has to be one of the most stupid, fatuous and arrogant comments I have ever heard. I could go through everything that is wrong about this statement, but I’d probably be typing all day; besides, anyone with half a brain can see that these are nothing more than the ravings of a fool trying to defend his self-centred right to pollute the air for the rest of us. I just wanted to flag up the commotion, and add my voice to the wave of condemnation rising against irons.

I am, as you all probably know, a huge fan of Michael Palin. There seems to be something of a traveler in me, just dying to get out and go exploring. At the moment, I’m mostly just content to potter around south London in my chair; but when I find myself needing something more, I go to Michael Palin’s website. I adore his books there: they seem the stuff of high adventure, full of details of far-flung places. I logged on to it this morning, and, to my surprise and delight, I found this. I thought he had retired, but it seems my favourite surrogate adventurer is on the road again. Yippee!

Lucky sod!

Today I think I will just post a link to Simon’s new-look, revamped site. Long time readers of my blog will know that Simon and I have something of a fraught history, but he now has my respect as one of the leading lights of the disability community. Simon is utterly unique, even in a community where uniqueness is the norm, and I think his new-look site reflects this. I especially like the talking head animation which greets readers. I think it is fair to say that the website is still a work in progress, but it shows a lot of potential, and I look forward to see more of Simon’s unique perspective on disability, society and the world.

I suppose it has been a normal kind of day, by which I mean nothing particularly exceptional has happened. No camera crews or reporters came or anything; speaking off which, we’re still waiting to hear back from Channel four – whether the report on Lyn’s computer will eventually be shown remains to be seen. In the mean time, there is regular everyday life to get on with: Lyn is in her studio recording, and you should hear the piece she’s currently working on. She has taken a sample of her voice, distorted it and looped it. It’s rather exotic, and very cool. As for me, I’ve just been doing bits and pieces of writing, editing and reading. It really feels like we’ve settled down into a routine, like all couples do – it feels warm, cozy, and right.

I am going to use today’s blog entry to whish my mum a very happy mother’s day. She is, without a doubt, the best type of mum anyone could hope for – caring and warm, strict when she needs to be, and truly excellent at giving advice. I don’t see much of her these days, except on Skype; I think that’s something I’ll soon have to remedy. You know, I think it’s high time I took Lyn to see our old family home; I certainly think we need to get out of London a bit more, but that’s by-the-by. Anyway, have a great mother’s day mum – you’re still the best mum in the world.

Last night I reckon I enjoyed the best meal I’ve had since Christmas lunch, a lunch which, looking back, could easily fit on to the list described here. Lyn took me to a pub called Crock Log near welling. Not The Crock log, just Crock Log, something which struck me kind of odd. Anyway, this turned out to be what I call a food pub, as opposed to a drinking pub. You know the kind of place. Anyway, I think it worth recording how nice the food was there – I had a huge slab of beef with lots of vegetables. Just what the doctor ordered. Mind you, I must add that Lyn found a huge hair in her meal, and it had to be replaced. This did, however, qualify us for free pudding, and, stuffed though I was, free chocolate cake is always welcome.

We both came back home stuffed, feeling much heavier than when we left. I didn’t think I’d want to eat all weekend. yet now, the day has dawned bright and sunny, and it is already rather warm. I can’t help but wonder what today will bring; I would like to explore Danson Park, which the pub was near. On the map it looks huge. Mind you, I don’t think I could eat another enormous roast – not today anyway.

I think I really must be getting old. I reckon it is a sure sign that you are getting older when become less tolerant of your glasses being dirty. I’ve been wearing specs since I was nine or so, and, growing up, I always had dirty glasses. Unless they were absolutely filthy, I didn’t seem to mind. My grandma always wanted to clean them, and, often without warning, used to rip them off my face and take them to the sink. Needless to say, this used to irritate the life out of me. Yet, these days, I’m the opposite: I can’t stand dirty glasses. The thing is, I can’t clean them myself, and whenever I try they always seem to end up dirtier than when I started, so I usually hand them to my PA to do. Ironically, though, this has become such a regular occurrence that I’m sure soon they’ll be the ones getting irritated. In fact, I think I might go ask for them to be cleaned right now.

I still need to write that entry about the word cripple. It’s not as simple as it seems: the thing is, it’s what I call a reclaimed word – a word once used as a term of offence but is now used sort of as a badge of membership. My friends in the disability community use it, for the most part ironically, to refer to themselves. The thing is, as Ricardio points out in his comments, it’s like the word nigger; it’s used by black people to refer to themselves, but should anyone else use it, it is seen as extremely offensive. It might be more complicated than that, though, because I let some of my non-disabled friends use it to refer to me, and it’s sort of funny. Mind you, it all depends on when and where it’s used, and how it’s meant. In this way, I don’t think it can fully be explained: as with the N word, there are still instances when the word cripple can be highly offensive. Yet I still find it okay to use it to refer to myself. I suppose this is a case where Ferdinand de Sesseur’s observation that, in language, the relationship between sign and signified is arbitrary holds most sharply and takes on a new dimension.

More on this intriguing subject soon.

I fully intend to respond to Ricardio’s request for an explanation of my use of the word cripple, and I have been thinking about it all day. It’s an interesting debate he raises, and one which deserves a fairly long entry. However, I hope my good friend will understand when I say it’ll have to wait for another day, as today I have something even more controversial on my mind.

I find myself, tonight, questioning a person’s right to protest. Even typing those words feels faintly ridiculous: everyone has an inalienable right to express their point of view, whatever it is. But earlier I came across something which boiled my blood: something proclaiming itself a ”rally against debt” – a counter-protest to the recent anti-cuts march in London. It was on facebook so I told them exactly what I thought of them. Frankly I told them I felt that I thought they had no right to hold any such protest.

They do, of course, but I have a right to raise my objections to it. If this thing goes ahead, it strikes me as a childish act, deliberately inflammatory to those concerned about the cuts. It’s almost hateful in the way it presents itself. I guess I’m opening up myself up to accusations of holding my right to protest up while denying other people theirs, and the irony of my use of the word ‘fascist’ is not lost on me, but if you saw someone intending to protest against your way of life, your livelihood, would you knot object? We all realise what these cuts will do; I’m very concerned indeed about the impact they will have on me and Lyn, and all disabled people. So I think my objection to this puerile act is justifiable; I see it as a march against the wealth fare state, the NHS, and pretty much all I hold dear, just as Osbourne’s cuts are manifestly an attack on those things. Thus I have a right to try to stop this insipid rally from happening.

All in all it has been quite an amazing few days. As I said, on Thursday we had the surprise of our lives; to suddenly hear a camera crew and quite a famous and prolific reporter were coming was quite a shock. Then on Friday we had all the excitement and anticipation of seeing ourselves on the news, and then the subsequent mild disappointment of our piece not being shown. It turns out that the reporters were still working on it, and it’ll probably be shown at a later date. On Saturday, of course, there was all the sound and fury of the protests in central London. It isn’t every day that you get to march alongside about a quarter of a million people. Yesterday was somewhat tamer, in comparison, although we got to go to quite a cool music night in a small restaurant we know around the corner. It was intimate and friendly, and I now know where I can get a decent martini.

It is now, however, Monday morning, and we have the real world to contend with again. Life in London does, though, seem to throw up these odd stints of excitement – maybe there’s something in the water. I wonder what this lunatic of a city will throw up next.

I once wrote on here that I felt a riot is no place for a cripple. I stand by that. A protest is another matter, of course: anyone can and should be able to attend a peaceful protest and have their voice heard. I went to the protest in central London today, together with Lyn and Adrian, where I saw a great many people using wheelchairs. They were all, I assume, as worried as I am about what this government is doing. Like last time, there was a carnival atmosphere at the protest for most of today. We walked along, listening to the drums and whistles. I was eager to get up to hyde park, where I knew a rally was being held, and where I suspected some of my friends to be. I also suspected there would be less chance of trouble there.

But it wasn’t to be: we were following the crowd past fortnum and mason when trouble started. Some protesters – mostly masked – were on the roof. Suddenly a bunch of riot police rushed past. I decided it was time to press on, when a woman told us to get out of there, as the police were about to kettle.

We got out just in time. I felt the same sense of fear I felt last time, and told Adrian we needed to go somewhere safe. We decided this was home, and about ninety minutes later we were back here, pizza in the oven and beer open on the table. I guess I’m not the revolutionary I want myself to be, but at least it seems a great many others who are feel as strongly as I do about the cuts.

How the smeg am I going to even start explaining this one? I better start at the beginning. Yesterday morning I popped over to see chopper; I think we like each other, and I find him interesting on a number of levels. I often pop over to his place for a cup of coffee and a natter. At about half twelve or one, I decided to come home to see what Lyn was up to. Our PA, Adrian, opened the door.

”You’re gonna be on television” he said. I was dumbfounded. It turns out that my friend Becca, to whom I am now profoundly and forever indebted, had reposted the film Lyn made about the theft of her computer onto a site called Pistonheads, where it had been seen by someone who knew someone at Channel Four. They were interested in the story, and decided to come and investigate. Even when I write it that seems incredible, but that’s what happened. At about half five last night, after a flurry of emails on Lyn’s part and much worrying and squealing on mine, a camera man and a reporter came.

I think it went well. I had promised Becca I wouldn’t let them turn it into a cripsploitation story, and, although I cannot be sure, I don’t think it will be. The reporter, Carl Dennon, was obviously very used to disabled people; they included us in the choice of shots, which, as a film student, I loved. I suppose we can only be sure when we see it on channel four, tonight, between seven and eight.

I better go warn my parents.

If you can do so, I’d ask anyone reading this to go to Lyn’s facebook page. There she has posted a short film about recent events. Without wanting to be too blunt about it, in January we were burgled; the video is her appeal for information and help. It hasn’t appeared on Youtube yet, but I’ll post a link to it as and when it does.

Edit: the film can be found here

I know that yesterday I stated that I wanted to blog about subjects other than disability and politics, but last night this guardian article got my attention. It’s about the reforms to the wealth fare system the coalition government propose to push through, and, quite frankly, they are fucking stupid. The system we have at the moment isn’t perfect, but it works. Why, then, does disability living allowance need to become personal independence payment? How, exactly, do the Tories want to cut the claimant number by twenty percent? And where is the logic in saying ”you already have a wheelchair, therefore you don’t need the mobility component”? It is totally and utterly stupid – a cost-cutting scam from a narrow-minded government.

I was thinking earlier, and I reckon that I have good reason to be rather pleased with my blog – even proud. Granted, it may not be as incisive the main blogs, and hardly gets any traffic (in fact I doubt it’s read by anyone other than family and friends), but I’ve kept it up for eight years, and I think that’s something to be proud of. I was thinking the other day, if I blog every two days, at about 100 to 200 words an entry, that’s 500 words a week, 26000 a year; in fact I reckon I’ve written over a hundred thousand words on my website over the years, which is pretty good going for a lazy little cripple.

With that in mind, I think a change is in order. I’ve been trying to keep on the subject of disability, but while presenting the perspective of a disabled person in the current political climate is incredibly important, I don’t want to define myself just by my disability. I think I’ve earned the right to expand into other areas: There are other sides to me too, I’ll have you know, and it’s important people realise that we crips are well-rounded individuals. This occurred to me last night, when I saw that the cast of The Hobbit films had been announced; I was highly tempted to make a blog entry simply linking to the appropriate website with some short yet highly enthusiastic message. But this would have been a poor excuse for a blog entry, and would have had nothing to do with the purpose of my blog.

And yet the fact is I adore Tolkien, and I can’t wait to see these films. As with my interest in star trek and james bond, this obsession is part of who I am. As a student of film, I find myself wanting to wax lyrical about what I think if this film, how glad I am that Peter Jackson is helming it, or about how I almost wet my pants when I heard that Brian Blessed might be in it, playing one of the dwarfs*. But this would have had nothing whatsoever to do with disability, so I kind of censor myself, trying to keep on subject.

However, I think from now on a new blogging philosophy is in order. Trying to keep to a fixed set of subjects** – disability, politics or world affairs – has given rise to a load of lacklustre entries recently, and I think that has to stop. From now on I’ll be broadening out: I’ll try to give a disability slant if I can, but as long as I don’t go back to simply making one-line entries linking to youtube videos, as I did in the early days of my blogging career, I think it’s all good.

So, how about that English cricket team…?

*unfortunately, this turned out only to be a rumour it seems, but had Blessed been cast as, say, Balin, it would have been up there with other pieces of casting genius, such as Sean Bean as Boromir, Alan Rickman as Marvin the paranoid android, and so on.

**I know I often strayed from this, but it was what I tried to do.

We were just watching the news. Like most people, I suppose, I like to keep up to date with what is going on in the world. Yet increasingly these days I turn the bbc news channel on reluctantly. I cannot remember ever seeing two such big stories break at the same time: we are currently seeing a major world economy crippled by the most terrible natural disaster, and simultaneously allied forces are in action over Libya. I am worried about what horrifying images will appear on our screens next. I should say that, while I’m in two minds about the UNs involvement in Libya, I think, on the whole, going in was the right thing to do: gadaffi is a lunatic despot unafraid to kill his own people. we can see how fragile his grip on reality is from the speeches he makes. The UN needed to intervene,. At the same time, as I was saying to dad on Friday, since when was it our role to decide the course of history. Mind you, if we decided to keep out of this conflict, it might mean sitting idly by while Gadaffi’s thugs slaughter thousands, and I doubt any off us could stomach that.

I think I just ought to record that I had a wonderful birthday yesterday. I saw mum and dad for the first time since Christmas – it was, as ever good to see them. I opened my presents after breakfast, with everyone sitting round, watching. We talked a bit, and started to sort some things out that needed to be sorted. In the afternoon, Lyn needed to pop to the bank, and then we went to the pub for a bit and came home. Unfortunately, the party we intended to have never materialised as nobody came, but we had a great time anyway listening to the cat Empire and Beatles.

Well, today is bright and sunny, and I have things to do. May the birthday weekend continue!

I can’t help reflecting upon the fact that it has now been a week since the earthquake and tsunami hit Japan. I remember, last Friday morning, warming up my computer and turning on facebook. I often check out the news first, but that morning I felt like checking what everyone was up to. I noticed a few odd status messages, referring to something in Japan, but then one referred specifically to an earthquake. I ran through and put the TV news on, and what I saw totally horrified me. I suspect it will be one of those events where you will always remember where you were where you first heard about it – like the death of Princess Dianna, or the September 11 attacks, events of sufficient magnitude stick in your mind, imprinting firmly onto one’s memory. Of course, that was even before the tsunami struck, and days before the nuclear crisis. In Japan, horror is following horror, and my heart goes out to the Japanese people.

I noticed something rather irritating about my lightwriter yesterday. We were in Costa’s, talking about puns. Lyn and I both like to play with words, and she is especially good at coming up with naff, often cringeworthy ones. I decided to tell her my favourite play on words, which can be attributed to Humphrey Lyttelton, if memory serves: ”this is called orthinology, the art of word-botching” I said, using my lightwriter. This is a deliberate mispronunciation of ornithology, of course, which is bird watching. This pun is, in my opinion, a thing of absolute genius – the pinnacle of wit; but the problem was my lightwriter didn’t pronounce orthinology correctly. The damn thing said it as though there was a C in there somewhere. Needless to say I was extremely dischuffed, and spent about the next five minutes trying to get my lightwriter to say orthinology the right way, by which time all comic effect was lost. I suppose it just goes to show the chaps at Toby Churchill still have some bugs to work out, especially when it comes to things like puns.

Last night on channel 4 we saw the first open comparison between CaMoron’s ‘Big Society’ and privatisation. In a great programme, Dispatches openly likened the big society to opening the wealth fare state up to free-market economics. This is the first time I have seen the mainstream media declare what I, and I’m sure many others, have suspected: the big society is a con – a ruse. Far from empowering people, as last night’s programme made it clear, the big society simply hands services which should be controlled by the state over to big business. And what the Tories don’t seem to get is that does not work. Far from pushing up standards through competition, the free-market model pushes standard down: corners are cut, prices go up. Because we are marginal, the needs of minorities like people with disabilities are pushed to the back of the queue in the drive for profit. Things like schools and hospitals need to be controlled centrally by the state, or else we get falling standards and a two tier system. Because those people who already have wealth behind them are better placed to get involved with the big society, it will also maintain power in the hands of the few rather than empowering the many. In other words, it will help re-establish class divisions Is this the kind of place we want Britain to be? Or perhaps a better question would be, now the big society is being exposed for the lie it is, how long can the Tories stay in power? Anyway, go look dispatches up on 4oD

I was just watching ‘the big questions’ – one of these debate shows where a studio audience discuss the topics of the day. They were talking about whether the disaster in Japan was a reason not to believe in god. as anyone who has seen me watching such a thing knows, pretty soon I was hurling abuse at the telly: it gets to me that people can go on there, defend a bronze-age superstition and an invisible being for which they have no empirical evidence, and then accuse sceptics of being arrogant and aggressive. Even more frighteningly, I learned to day that there is a ‘centre for intelligent design’ in Britain – I thought that bullshit was confined to America, and had died out after Michael Behe took the stand in Dover.

This has, of course, nothing to do with the thrust of this blog, but it’s impossible for any blogger not to say how horrified they were at the images coming from Japan. I’ve never seen anything more terrible. Yet, it strikes me that, just two days after the event, we have a TV program with a studio audience discussing whether it was the work of some Sky Fairy or not. It’s crass, puerile, and makes me very angry…and somewhat scared.

I may have stumbled upon this at random, but this joke strikes me as so fitting with my current thoughts to be worth repeating: ”A banker, a Daily Mail reader and a benefit claimant are sat round a table and have 12 biscuits to share. The banker grabs 11 of them, then leans over to the Daily Mail reader and says ”Watch out for the benefit claimant – he’s after your biscuit.’ ”

Very apt, don’t you think?

Bit of a lazy post today: I think I ought to direct you here, to my friend Sally’s band. I know sally from university, where she did music and drama; she was also in the campus gospel choir, which I was sort of involved in. it’s good to see her doing something she loves, and I think they are well on the way to breaking into the music industry.

I realise my recent entries have sort of been all over the place; I really must get round to doing a proper entry. For one thing, I must do a properly researched article on how the cuts will affect disabled people. But spring is almost here and I have other things on my mind. For instance, this morning I watched quite a cool film called Chopper. My friend of the same name dropped it off for me to watch last night, and what I expected to be a puerile splatterfest turned out to be a very interesting portrait of quite an intriguing, if somewhat violent, man. This afternoon I’ll do some reading and then take the DVD back in a bit. In other words, I’m simply not in the mood for all this political doom and gloom.