Cultural elevation is a organisation run by my mate Rob. Every now and then, they organise bashes in the college bar: there was one last night, which I went to having become a member last week. Rob’s vision is an eclectic mix of arts, but at the moment it seems to have a focus on urban art forms like rap and break dance. Thus I saw quite an impressive dance off last night, with the audience standing in a circle, the DJ having selected something with a strong beat, as four or five guys danced in a most extraordinary fashion. That ruled!

However, I am unsure about the ‘elevation’ bit. It raises some interesting questions. It seems to imply a value judgement – to what state does this organisation want to elevate culture to? surely this is subjective. In what way does culture need elevating. What, indeed, is culture?

I love all art. I love film (naturally) music and visuals and so on. I have nothing against a society where people are allowed and encouraged to express themselves. Such an idea is wonderful, but the name just sits uncomfortably in my belly. To be honest it whiffs slightly of evangelist language.

this.mov file was brought to my attention last night. apart from being funny as hell, it’s quite the most brilliant piece of editing i’ve seen. go look.

On Tuesday in my first writing workshop we were introduced to postmodernism. The central concept is, as far as I can gather, that there are no absolutes, since the postmodernists reject the ‘grand narratives’ i.e., religion, science. These are social constructs, transmitted via language which can never be objective since it inherently is imbued with the speakers biases. Thus, what we perceive as real is entirely subjective.

This kind of makes sense to me, but I have problems with it. It seems incompatible with science at first glance, until one remembers that science offers us no absolute truths, only theories which must be tested and may one day be superseded. Even time is relative. Yet science is the search for the truth – or as near as we can get to it. Is it, or is it not,, attainable. Uncertainty says god plays dice, but particle physics is based on maths, which is constant. One plus one must always make two, so postmodernism and science contradict. Do they, or don’t they?

What is fast becoming certain is that I’ll have fun exploring this issue.

According to grey, last night may have been the last disco for a while. The student’s uunion has fallen out with the chaps who put the event on – the latter are too greedy. They make a killing on the bar and the door: must be about 750 ppl attend, each charged 2 quid. None of that money, however, goes backinto the venu, so greys organising something else.

With this in mind, I took my opportunity to dress up. Out camethe bunnygirl outfit. It was, however, blowing a gale out there, and the last time I went outside in winter in a leotard and tights I cought cold. I had learned my lesson, and put my jumper and joggers back on over my outfit so I could disrobe at the bar, hopefully with help from a pretty girl. Me clever!

This plan worked well. I took my manual chair – I never take my electric to the bar: recipe for broken f55 and a seriously peeved dad. I went to join the football social, having the security guy take my clothes off as the party got started, before the main lights went off. I behave myself more when I’m iin those clothes, and try to keep them clean, so I stay sober, which I did.

What else can I say? I didn’t get cold, and one of the footballers redressed me and took m home. Quite a cool night.

I just noticed i can no longer play rock paper scissors on weebles stuff.com. college wont let me download macromedia flash, which is rather tiresome, but not the end of the world.

talking of cartoons, cripcomic was launched yesterday. thusfar, tthere is only one strip, but its interesting stuff. Inasmuch as it subverts the status quo bu having a disabledd person as its main dramatis personae, it can be seen as postmodern. It uses the languag of our subclture (if such a thing exists), and thus can be seen as a statement of pride in dusability. hehehe…academic language rules!

Maybe itts the writer in me, oor the philologist, but it’s surprising how just reading a simple turn of phrase can cheer me up. This morning, I was doing my rounds on the blogs of my friends – luke b’s, Kate’s etc. I came across one which uses some words which have now sadly fallen out of use.

Spiffing’…’good egg’ what wholesome expressions. My friend Will at macc college used to use them. They seem homely, old school.. English, like cricket, or punting. I find the fact that they’re still in use somewhere kind of comforting, especially in today’s world of coarse language and vulgarity. I often hang out with Sports students, where every second word is a vulgarity, and we all know how much swearing there is in film. Of course, I have nothing against swearing, but it seems the old phrases like Good Egg are dying out. The fact that they’re still being used by some people, without sarcasm, is kind of satisfying to me.

I cant explain why.

Today, my uncle, aunt cousin and his Girlfriend, Saran, were here for lunch. Although they visit way too rarely, I’m fond of them. We were talking about religion, and my concern with creationism, and Uncle Aki told us about the time when some mormons visited my bappou. They were showing bappou any yeaya a slideshow, when suddenly bappou said, quietly and slowly, ‘I think this is a heresy.’

You might not understand why this amuses me unless you knew buppou: this quiet, gentle man, who was deeply religious, suddenly saying such a thing. I can’t explain.

If theres one thing about my anthems which troubles me, its that it would have hurt my grandfather.

heres more on yesterdays entry

I am worried about the state of American culture, and especially the rise of religion there. I have no problem with people believing as they wish, be it in some bearded God or in a flying spaghetti monster (with his noodly appendage). No, what worries me is when they try to foist their beliefs on others.

Marxists say that religion is a repressive state structure, designed to control a population. For a long period of time, church and state were linked, so the church was an integral part of enforcing the law of the land. Government took it’s authority from the church, which, in turn, took it’s authority from god. To an extent, the two were symbiotic.

Now the symbiosis is gone. With the rise of science came secularism, and governments draw their mandates from the ballot box. Hence, now the church is a competing, unelected power base, and in America at least it is thirsty for power. It seems to be trying to draw people back to the pew, and I think this is so it can once again control the people. The priests and the pastors have no mandate from the ballot box, but instead have chosen to seize power through going into the church. They want to control people, just as coca-cola wants to control you enough to buy coke. Religion is like any other business in capitalist America – it is designed to make money.

Only it is much more dangerous than the Disney or Microsoft corporations, as they just want your mmoney. The churches want your minds too.

For religion faces a problem in the form of science. Two centuries ago, the bible held unopposed authority – it offered an excellent explanation of how life came into being, where we were going and how we should act. This authority, I would argue, stemmed largely from the genesis story, but after Darwin that was called into doubt. More and more evidence is being found in support of evolution, from the remains of homo Neanderthalis to red shift, and this poses a major problems for religion as it shatters the bible’s authority and thus the church’s.

Marx famously called religion the opium of the people, and like any good drug dealer religion must find a way off keeping it’s clientele hooked. Thus, religious people in America brought about ‘Creationism’, a science set up to prove the story of genesis. This, needles to say, is logically flawed, as it’s stated objective is to come to a pre-set answer, and to discredit or ignore any data not pointing to that answer. True science is open-ended – a theory may be posited, tested, proven or superseded. Indeed, this weeks new scientist speculates that Einstein’s general relativity may have to be rewritten slightly to incorporate new findings like Dark Energy. True scientific theories are not, and must never be, set in stone. Thus to create a science with the sole intention of proving the claims of the bible is to distort the underlying logic of science.

Further, to present creationism as scientific is worryingly misleading. Such people are deliberately blinding others to proper, scientific thought in order to make money. Thousands, if not millions of dollars are made through Televangelism, I suspect. They need people to accept the biblical stories as fact, and do this by attacking established scientific theory. At a time when the world needs all the scientists it can get if it is to solve such problems as global climate change and energy shortage, these people are making such claims as

”[quote=”www.creationscience.comurl:http://www.creationscience.com/LifeSciences4.html”%5DSpontaneous generation (the emergence of life from nonliving matter) has never been observed. All observations have shown that life comes only from life. This has been observed so consistently it is called the law of biogenesis. The theory of evolution conflicts with this scientific law when claiming that life came from nonliving matter through natural processes.”[/quote].” http://www.creationscience.com/LifeSciences4.html

While some may say that it is wiser to let these people believe as they wish, I would maintain that, for them to try to force their way of thinking onto others, especially schoolchildren, is harmful. While all perspectives should be engaged with, I feel that to allow these people to continue to expound their ideas so vehemently is dangerous. All theories should be tested empirically, and the biblical model has been superseded, so it should be done away with, like theories linking ethnicity and intelligence. It is harmful to scientific thought, and the public in general in that it now serves only to line the priest’s pockets with money and power. No doubt, however, that they will continue to do as they are doing, trying desperately to blind congregations to an ever-increasing mountain of evidence, while simultaneously presenting themselves as the only valid authorities on the truth, just as McDonalds portray themselves as the only place to get good burgers.

If it wasn’t so sad and dangerous, it would be funny.

Two things got my goat today. I was at the freshers fair, helping out, going around the stalls talking. Most stalls were quite cool – inviting people to give blood, or join the poets society – but two stalls got my goat. Firstly, the army stall. They were their in their camouflage suits and berets, saying things like ‘are you brave enough to join’ and so on. They had a video f people in Iraq hugging soldiers, which was amusing because it was the army who helped bring about what is fast becoming a civil war there. I almost bought a poster in the sale in the wes with this famous Einstein quote.

‘He who joyfully marches to music rank and file, has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would surely suffice. This disgrace to civilization should be done away with at once. Heroism at command, how violently I hate all this, how despicable and ignoble war is; I would rather be torn to shreds than be a part of so base an action. It is my conviction that killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act of murder.’

Another stall which got my goat was one offering bible classes. I was brought up on rational argument, and I find nothing rational about people trying to convert others into their power structure, simply by using quotes from an ancient book. I tried talking to these people, but its like trying to win a fight with Bigfoot. Its pointless. How can they ignore all the evidence, claim it all points to a sudden creation event, then say they’re the rational ones? As a student of culture, I think I should look into this phenomenon.

Talking of which, I got my results from last year today. A 61 average, or a two-one. Not bad for a stupid spaz.

You have no idea how relieved I was to hear the intercom sound this morning. It meant everything was back to normal. I had worried that my home care – the ladies who put my shoes and socks on, and get me breakfast – weren’t coming due to the natural confusion caused by summer. But no, Julie came at 9 a.m. prompt, smiling. We have known each other for a year, but we met like old friends after along absence. It meant all was well, and the day would be good. If she hadn’t shown, Esther would have had to give me breakfast, wasting valuable time sorting things out for the new year.

Here’s where it went wrong. I had been promised that the intersite bus would be fully accessible, but I decided to verify this by rolling over to the bus stop, Esther in tow. We waited for 5 minutes, and the bus came. I then realised I had more chance of riding a woolly mammoth to Crewe – the bus was an ancient double decker with steps up to it and a bar in the middle of the entrance. I wasn’t happy.

Nor, for that matter, was Andy Grey. I went directly to the head of the Students Union, who seemed to take personal umbridge at what I told him. Although I explained that Bill could drive me over, he said, ”That’s not the point.” It seemed to grieve him personally, as if he’d just discovered some terrible scandal.

That, however, is my point. People – most people – do not realise the type of problems disabled people face, bringing about a type of discrimination through negligence. The promises of accessible transport hadn’t been acted upon, and it was only when I brought this matter to Andy’s attention that he went and sorted it.

I just got back into my little room at university. It’s good to be back. The place reeks, and I haventgot my posters up so it doesn’t feel quite like home yet, but its getting there. the day promisses to be a good one – noo academic work, just sorting stuff out, confirming my timetable etc. I pplanto catch up with dave to see if theres any preliminarry reading i can do, but thats about it. well, heres to a good second year.

I doubt I’ll cry tonight!

The following was sent to me in a circular email, and originally it was about getting old as a wwoman, but could just as well aapply to me:

‘

I feel like my body has gotten totally out of shape, so I got my doctor’s permission to join a fitness club and start exercising. I decided to take an aerobics class for seniors. I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for an hour. But, by the time I got my leotards on, the class was over. ‘ hehehe. now I think of it, this could suggest the incentive I need to do my physio…

this spoils my fun. how can we take the piss out of the aussies when they write such well balanced articles? aww! I expected them all to be brooding and sullen. no fair

this article concerns a new sculpture to go on a free plinth in Trafalgar square. Naturally, I hold this to be a good thing. theres some debate over whether it should be there, but I think it’s quite  beautiful, embracing both the themes of motherhood and diversity.

true beauty has very little to do with aesthetics.

I used to feel guilty about watching TV in the holidays. I always felt I should be doing something, like reading or writing. These palpitations of guilt were enough to send me scurrying to my books. Now, however, things are slightly different.

For one, I’m writing more than ever. This s both on my blog and elsewhere. I know my last few entries haven’t been too long, but its hard to find stuff to write about. This is especially applicable when I’m stuck at home, with only grandma for company. My grandma’s ok, but she isn’t the sort of person one can have an in-depth debate with, let’s say.

Also, I have a legitimate excuse to watch TV. I study it! Mind you, I do not watch trash television – daytime TV really is dire, as I have said before. I mean, ‘Trisha’ for godsakes! Who watches that? However, today, I was in luck. BBC2 showed ‘The Big Sky’ this morning. This is a 1953 classic western by Howard Hawkes.

Monochrome, of course. This puts it right at the end of the golden age of Hollywood, and right from the beginning, I knew I was in for a treat. There are some incredible vistas of the lands on and around the Missouri in the film, and hawkes employs some interesting camera techniques. At one point, he plays with the audience’s expectations – I was expecting a simple shot / reverse shot movement, but instead hawkes chooses to film from a completely new angle. This threw me slightly, and at first I found it confusing, as if it broke the 180 degree rule, but it is clear that Hawkes was experimenting with film grammar. Very few auters show such panache with the camera, perhaps preferring simply to ‘wow’ audiences with special effects. it should be noted, however, that the film was rather derogatory towards native Americans. While this was less so than films before it, it showed how far we still had to go in the fifties.

Thus, my free time at home hasn’t been totally wasted. I wonder if there’s anything on this afternoon.

In eighteen months I hope to watch sunrise over Ularu. I just watched England reclaim the ashes after 18 years. I was glued to the box all day, and there were moments when I thought this blog entry would be full of bile towards the aussies. They were going to win, and I hated them for it. Yet this would have been totally unwarranted. Win or loose, Australia remain one of the finest cricket sides ever. Moreover, by all accounts, this series has been played to the highest standards of conduct. It seems ‘beasting’ was a myth – the games seemed like it was played between good friends. shayne warne, I should add, is a demon!

I thus offer the deepest commiserations to my Australian friends. See you for the next Ashes series.

this is good news from the icb,, but the fact remains sky has rights to cover the ashes for the next four years. this makes me so angry. murdoch is a greedy git with no love of cricket. he is going to make us pay to watch the game I love, ruining cricket for the masses. this makes me soooo angry!

It’s been a tough few days. I only got back to blighty on Thursday, and I spent the last two days in London with family. I’m not sure why I’m so tired, as all I did was sit in the car. Perhaps it was the tension of the cricket.

Has anyone else been watching it? It’s like a five day penalty shoot-out. I cant watch. Fortunately, its raining, and is likely to be until tomorrow. At least we have a reprieve this evening from the tension. However, dad tells me that sky has the rights to thee ashes next year. Lets hope they’re taken from Murdoch’s grubby, stinking hands soon!

We got back to blighty this morning. apart from a fire alarm kerfuffle at manchester, the journey was ok. I hate flying from west to east – I always get terrible jet lag, so this post will be brief.

In a post coming shortly, I intend to deal with access issues in canada: although I found access and disability awareness generally dire, I found some evidence fthat canada was actually quite progressive in such matters, including a tv programme run by and for crips.

thhis will, however, necessitate research. I’m tired, so it’ll hace to wait. unpacking can’t.

Perhaps the best way one can see a city is to walk about it. Well, in my case that means sitting in my chair and rolling about it. But, one hasn’t seen the real city one goes to the residential areas; the back streets. Where the real people live and work. Not where capitalists interested in taking the tourists’ money, but where people buy there groceries or go to talk to friends. This morning, my brother and I took a walk into the backstreets of Montreal. It was quite a long walk – a good 8 kilometres I suppose (more like 15. Sitting in his chair, I don’t think Matt gets a proper idea of how far he travels – Ed). We wove our way down through the old town and out into the suburbs. It reminded me of Paris. It was rather quiet and there were very few people about, which isn’t disappointing – most people would have been at work. However, it’s worth mentioning that I saw a few more cripples this morning – not that I was on some kind of cripple hunt. We headed into the Latin Quarter how come every city has a Latin Quarter; the Romans got everywhere. Romano eunt domus, eh? We also stopped to watch a bit of filming on a what appears to be a film about photo booths. We watched the crew play about with a camera boom, rising up from a photo booth – which appeared to have been placed randomly in the middle of a square – to a shot of an old building for about 10 minutes, then gave up. We have no idea what was going on. We then headed for a large park in the middle of the “real” city, looking at sunbathers. From there we headed towards the river, past the Molson brewery. Perhaps brewery should be in inverted commas there because I haven’t been able to find a proper beer anywhere, that is to say, a beer with actual taste. Give me an Old Speckled Hen over a Budweiser any day! We then met up with the parents to eat lunch at a deli. It is worth noting that I wasn’t offered a menu – I hate it when people assume I’m illiterate. Anyway, at time of writing, the family is waiting to go out for tea – I better not keep them. I’m really looking forward to this final night in Canada. Oh yeah! Please forgive my editor he’s rather hairy and stupid looking (you’re fired, Matt! – Ed).

(Editor – Matt’s bro Luke, taking dictation)

Over the last few days I’ve been struck by a curiosity: there are no crips in Montréal. Well, very few anyway. During the course of a UK day, I usually see four or five fellow disabled people; but everyday here I am lucky to see one. At first, I thought this was a coincidence, but now I am becoming convinced there’s a good reason for it. In short, this city is a bugger to get out into if you’re disabled. It is absolutely abysmal. The pavements are split and cracked, making for a rough ride in the chair. There are steps [b]everywhere[/b] – up to most restaurants, shops, public conveniences, to the elevators into the underground city (of which there are exceedingly few) and so on. This is not to say everywhere is inaccessible – places like the Biodome and the Botanical Gardens are well adapted for wheelchair users, but the city [i]propre[/i] is dire. Moreover, upon arrival, I thought I saw more staring kids than in most other places; I put this down to pure paranoia initially but am now sure of it. It’s not just kids, too. It’s adults. Staring enough to make me want to poke their eyes out. They really should know better. Thus, I should warn my fellow cripples not to come here without two fairly fit (and strong) P.A.s – they will be needed if you want to go anywhere. I needed assistance to cope with the many flights of stairs and escalators: one person carrying me, one my wheelchair (plus a third to carry Matt’s bags – Ed). If one is entirely non-ambulant, it would simply be impossible. The city is rather stressful from that perspective. People walk straight in front of you as you roll along the pavement (though this is true of almost any major city – Ed). They do the pedestrian equivalent of cutting you up. I regret to say, this is one city I won’t soon come back to.

Nevertheless, it must be said the city is beautiful. We took a boat ride on the St Lawrence this morning. It was fascinating to discover a bit of the river’s history as it is a main artery into the Americas along with the Mississippi and the Amazon. It was a main supply route into Canada and the US. I would like to discover more of it, but this will have to wait: I have more of this region explore. I only hope the remainder is more accessible.

I really like the Biodome and the Botanical Gardens. It is often remarked that we British are a nation of gardeners and garden lovers. In this respect, I am very British as I find gardens peaceful. It probably wasn’t as big or as grand as Kew, but it was a very pleasant place to spend a few hours away from the hustle and bustle of the city. The cabby who took us there was a pretty cool guy, too. However, so far my favourite place has been the Olympic Tower (la Tour Montréal – the tallest leaning tower in the world – Ed). It has a very impressive view of the city and beyond (both from the top and in the funicular on the way up – Ed). It looks very futuristic, as if it was part of a star ship – even about thirty years after it was built. There are great places (and people – Ed) in any city – that is why I like to travel. But the fact remains that this place isn’t up to standard for disabled people and that is a great shame.

(Editors – Matt’s bro (taking dicatation) and mum (correcting grammar))

So… here we are in Canada. We left Grandma at home again and flew in yesterday. It’s strange how air travel can confuse the senses – one morning one can get up in England and the same day go to bed in Canada a quarter of the way around the Earth. It really is quite cool. There is something about travel that feeds me, even things like exploring hotel rooms and becoming acquainted with the TV remote I find exciting – not because I can watch TV but because of what they represent: a new place. A new perspective.

We spent today walking around the city – it’s quite picturesque but I found it derivative of any other city in North America, if a city can be derivative (when questioned about this, Matthew says it’s because it has tall buildings. I certainly don’t agree – Ed). However, there are also things that make it unique – there’s a vast underground city, which is like a subterranean shopping mall. This has access points all over the city centre giving the city a thoroughly three-dimensional feel (I can’t believe he just said this – Ed). It must be said that there are, however, very few lifts. And what lifts there are a usually full of ambulant Americans too lazy to use the escalators. I found myself getting rather shirty and un-British at one point. One of the good things about having a speech impediment is that no-one can understand when I curse at them. Of course this isn’t applicable when I use the lightwriter. I know I shouldn’t do this – it probably sets back the cause for disabled rights – but it’s hard to resist. Anyway, overall I’m having a great time and looking forward to the days ahead.

I should also mention my brother Mark, who is only just starting to realise that others are just as aware of his intelligence as we are thanks to an email he received. Good one, bro!

I would also like to point out a correction to the last post – naked women do not appear on ceilings. Although I sometimes wish they did – that would be fun! (Editor: Matt’s bro Luke, taking dictation)

I thought you guys might like to see a picture taken at lilleshall, as an example of what we got up to

[img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/2005 07 bar1.JPG[/img]

I must have spotted a naked girl on the cieling…maybe

Yesterday, I went to see my mates Rich and Michelle from hebden. It was great to see them again,, although I must have surprised them greatly, appearing, as it were, from out of the blue.

Anyway, while surfing the net, I stumbled across this article about Saturn’s moon Enceladus this morning. Apparently, its polar regions appear hotter than it’s equator. How odd.

” High-resolution imagery shows the southern polar region to be relatively smooth – usually a good indicator of recent activity – but cut by a number of long, dominant cracks.”

‘ere, does this mean it has a hot arse?

Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more, or seal up the wall with English dead.

If we lose the next test match, I’m officially beginning the campaign to bring Australia back under rule from London, just as we did with the United states.

who’s with me?

Quite what the waiters in portofino made of me, I don’t know, but they acquitted themselves magnificently.

I better explain. In alsager, there’s a place called papa’s, which does really good take away pizza. At university, I often get bill to order me a pizza, and I’ve developed a taste for pizza from proper pizzerias. Believe me, the frozen variety from Tesco simply doesn’t compare. Well, today, I had a hankering for a pizza, so I trundled down into town in my wheelchair, in search of junk food.

But I couldn’t find any. The only pizza outlets weren’t open, or looked rather sleazy. I took a look at the caf in the open-air market, and thought ‘better not’. On the way down, I asked the Italian gentleman in Portofino – the town’s one good Italian restaurant – whether he knew of any good Italian places.

‘Well, we open at 12, and we do pizza’. He said. Twelve noon was in forty minutes, and I thought portofino was too nice for me to eat alone in. I make a mess, so I continued my pizza hunt elsewhere. In the market, I met up with grandma, who combed my hair, but I thought better of eating there. The other pizzerias in town did not open ’till five, so at twelve, I rolled back to portofino, expecting to get a pizza to eat out – perhaps at a picnic table in the park.

However, before I could say anything, I was invited up the step and to a table. I had already selected the pizza I wanted from the menu in the window, so I asked for it, and a drink. The people there know me and my family, as we sometimes eat there, so it was not as if I was a random cripple off the street. I was treated to the respect anyone would expect, the waiters holding my cup for me as I drank. The pizza came, and I ate it with my hands as respectably as possible, and having got the waiter’s permission to do so.

When I had eaten, I asked for the bill. It came, and I told the waiter where to get my money, insisting he take a tip. It occurs to me that I would not have had the gall to do such a thing just a short wile ago, but I feel I can do anything now, even eat at posh, if quiet, restaurants. I feel that this past year has given me the confidence to do such things.

I probably won’t eat pizza there every week, but I enjoyed myself. I sometimes have romantic visions of writers as romantic beings sipping Chianti or absinth in caf corners. Well, I may not have been sipping Chianti – it would have gone to my head – but I now see that vision can pertain to me too. I am not on the periphery of society, but wholly within it.

If it lets me make such steps, perhaps I should get hungry for pizza more often.

I’ve always had a problem with manual dexterity, so, as a child, certain games were ruled out. No doubt we have all played rock paper scissors: as a kid, my scissors were always pretty indistinguishable from paper, and I found playing the game hard. However, now the internet has the solution. Its pretty cool, but it could get annoying.

After about 5 seconds!

My little brother Luke studies Bioinformatics at UMIST. This is a little heard of scientific field which aims to model living organisms using computers, so in part it aims to replace or supplement drugs testing on animals. I think this is a good area to study: theoretically, you should be able to get better results from computers.

However, there will always need to be testing on living non-human animals. Computers are open to human error because they are programmed by humans. Animal testing ha been, and remains, the best way to test drugs, especially in the latter stages of testing. Thus, this type of experimenting needs to continue if we are to be sure that the drugs of the future are perfectly safe.

This is not to say I do not have sympathy for the animals involved. Here we enter an ethical and philosophical minefield: first, do these beasts feel pain, or object to what is being done to them? They can’t communicate with us, so how do we know? We could try to handle this in terms of brain size and functionality,, but then we would need to set a cut-off point between feeling and unfeeling, which would essentially be arbitrary. Humans, the varied lot we are, have a range of cognitive capacities: those described as having PMLD are no less human than I am, and I would hope we would all puke if anyone suggested using such people in experiments. The case has been made elsewhere that animals have the abilities of human babies, and thus should be awarded the rights of such.

We have no way of knowing the capacities of animals for certain, and given that the safety of our medicines is at stake, I think such tests should continue. We have no choice but to lay aside our ethical concerns for the time being. I am certainly against the campaigners currently terrorising laboratories which use non-human animals: they are hugely misguided, and let emotion stand in the way of logic. Scientists today issued a declaration that they would use alternative means where possible, but the protestors, it seems, still aren’t happy. Do they want all of medical science to halt? If they had their way, I’d have died at or shortly after childbirth, for I needed drugs once tested on animals.

Moreover, their means are deplorable. They behave like terrorists. They stole the body of a dead woman, just because of her connection to a farm which bred guinea pigs for laboratories. What is silly here is the guinea pig would not exist in it’s modern form were it not for this purpose? Where, perchance, is their natural habitat?

These people are ruled by misguided sentimentality rather than logic, and frankly I doubt most of them understand the science involved.

How totally stupid.

Do you know, this holiday is going rather well so far. I’m watching many films, although not as much as I should ideally; I’m working through my collection of michael palin videos and dvd’s again; I’ve been going out rather a lot in mmy wheelchair, and have descovered the sunday car boot sale is good for indulging my dubious hobbies; I’ve had time to read; I’ve been able to go to alton towers and lilleshall sans parents, so hurrah for independence. Oh, dublin ruled too, and so will montreall and now dad has a new toy, the exact nature of which is probably classified, but I’m gonna have fun with it. I think it came from Q branch!

I know there has been much publicity on it recently, but I thought I’d try out google maps this morning… its just so cool! There isn’t much detail – you can’t use it to perve at nekkid sunbathers in their back garden – but I found my house. Go look if you haven’t already done so.

There is nothing like travelling. To experience new lands, new cultures. Brave new worlds. Like so many people before me, I have been bitten with the travel bug, and hope to remain happily infected for the rest of my days. This virus is a pandemic, and it is also ancient. It draws us to water, which once forced us into an upright position, and made us loose our body hair. In other words, I reckon there is an evolutionary advantage to itchy feet.

Perhaps I drank too much Guinness. It is so much better when drunk in it’s home town though. Especially in a pub, smoke free and full off life. When sucked through a straw, it hits the top of the mouth, and registers as bitter, but the texture is creamy and it slides down the throat as smoothly as silk. Thus it seemed to disappear far too fast.

There is far too much to tell you, were I to do it justice, my arm would ache for all the typing. As you walk through the streets of the city, ones ears are filled with music: drummers from brazil playing rhythms so complex and layered one stands and watches in awe; saxophonists playing the purest, coolest jazz; violinists playing Bach and Mozart. Music echoes off the walls of this ancient, proud city. It issues from pub doors and windows, drawing you in to join the fun. This is probably what Irish people term ‘crack’, and I love it.

Outside the city, there is a land so beautiful that I wish I had time to explore it. We visited a national park which was amazingly adapted for wheelchair users. All the paths were tarmaced, but it had not changed the sheer beauty of the area. I could not help thinking how good it would be to take my electric wheelchair – The Defiant – a long those paths. My parents disagreed. I think they had visions of me ending up in the lake. Anyway, passing through that area, I was struck by how evocative of Tolkien everything was. Since his created languages were based partly on Gaelic, the place names reminded me of Elvish. This, of course, reminded us all of dad’s bicardi-enduced claim, many years ago, that the Irish were all elves. If this is so, then Ireland is indeed a worthy valinor. Moreover, I couldn’t help thinking how cool it would be to make fantasy films in that area.

Four days was too little time, yet I have so many cool memories of Ireland. On Wednesday night we had a fish supper that ranked among the best meals of our lives. It was my first taste of shark, and the steak I had was phenomenal. The wine dad chose, I might add, was excellent.

Thus we all had an excellent time. It passed too quickly, and home life seems mundane. Yet it reminded me that there is a world waiting for me to explore.

And I intend to.

the problem with holidays is returning. i usually get home tired, achy and feeling decidedly odd. its always hot for some reason. you find your room inthe mess you left it in. oh well, at least one has the memories.

I’ll tell you all about dublin tomorrow.

While Grandma is holding down the fort at home, my parents, Luke and I are in Dublin. It’s a fantastic city. I love its vibrancy, although mum and dad always want to be in bed by 10:30. Anyway, I have had chance to sample some of the city’s thousands of pubs and it wasn’t until the second or third when I noticed something: nobody was smoking. Absolutely nobody. It’s not until you visit a smoke-free pub that you notice the difference; the air is so clear and you can actually taste the beer properly. At college, Brandys is always full of smokers and I had kind of come to expect it. After all, both my tutors smoke and I regularly have coffee with them while they puff away. I don’t want to become a so-called “health facist” but it’s so much better without smoke, I do hope Britain institutes similar laws soon.

Two odd things struck me yesterday: why is cricket, a game dependant on good weather, one of the national sports of England,, upon which the heavens are prone to open; moreover, why do they open with such vengeance on the day we go up to watch the match?

I love cricket. All my family does. It is a game which requires patience; a game which one can see mature over the course of four or five days, while bowlers do battle with batsmen. Granted, it may take some time between wickets, but if one observes carefully, a lot is happening during that time. It is a game of tactics, of intellect. Chess with bats.

So my family were greatly disappointed. Mark, Luke and Kat had come down, and we had all gone up to watch the cricket. But it raned. and it rained, and it rained. At about half two we gave up, and drove home, wet and more than a little disappointed. Nobody more so than dad, who got us all into the sport by playing it in the park with us since I was in a double buggy with Luke.

Thus we came home, and the sun came out. After two seconds of deliberation, me, my brothers and Kat bundled into the car and headed for Manchester, our tickets still valid. We were all feeling decidedly guilty that, by that time, dad was feeling too unwell to join us.

We all came to the conclusion that we were jinxed, because as we were approaching the ground, it started to rain. Most people started to leave, so we had to fight our way through the crowds – me in my manual chair – to get to our seats. When we did, I hunkered down under a huge am-ex brolly, pondering the stupidity of playing a game so dependent on good whether in England. However, patience pays off eventually, and the skies cleared, there was a pitch inspection, and half an hour later , the players came out….

Only to play six overs. Sis poultry overs. We didn’t even get a wicket! The sky was still blue, yet they retreated to the pavilion. The only reason for this that I can think of is channel 4’s intention not to disrupt its Saturday evening schedule. The television stations which cover such events are becoming increasingly powerful. After all, there would be no play without TV revenues these days. It still, however, sucks, when you have waited all day to watch it live.

6 overs is better than none. It is still great to be among the crowd, watching their beer-fuelled antics. Thus, despite the rain, yesterday was a good day, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

readthis from john cleese, forward to be by mum. too funny not to post! To the citizens of the United States of America, In the light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective today. Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories.

Except Utah, which she does not fancy.

Your new prime minister (The Right Honourable Tony Blair, MP for the 97.85% of you who have until now been unaware that there is a world outside your borders) will appoint a minister for America without the need for further elections.

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire will be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed. To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up “revocation” in the Oxford English Dictionary.

Then look up “aluminium”. Check the pronunciation guide.> You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it. The letter ‘U’ will be reinstated in words such as ‘favour’and ‘neighbour’, skipping the letter ‘U’ is nothing more than laziness on your part. Likewise, you will learn to spell ‘doughnut’ without skipping half the letters.

You will end your love affair with the letter ‘Z’ (pronounced ‘zed’ not ‘zee’) and the suffix “ize” will be replaced by the suffix “ise”. You will learn that the suffix ‘burgh is pronounced ‘burra’ e.g. Edinburgh.

You are welcome to respell Pittsburgh as ‘Pittsberg’ if you can’t cope with

correct pronunciation. Generally, you should raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. Look up “vocabulary”. Using the same twenty seven words interspersed with filler noises such as “like” and “you know” is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. Look up “interspersed”. There will be no more ‘bleeps’ in the Jerry Springer show. If you’re not old enough to cope with bad language then you shouldn’t have chat shows. When you learn to develop your vocabulary then you won’t have to use bad language as often.

There is no such thing as “US English”. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter ‘u’ and the elimination of “-ize”.

You should learn to distinguish the English and Australian accents. It really isn’t that hard. English accents are not limited to cockney, upper-class twit or Mancunian (Daphne in Frasier). You will also have to learn how to understand regional accents – Scottish dramas such as “Taggart” will no longer be broadcast with subtitles. While we’re talking about regions, you must learn that there is no such place as Devonshire in

England. The name of the county is “Devon”. If you persist in calling it

Devonshire, all American States will become “shires” e.g.Texasshire, Floridashire, Louisianashire.

Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as thegood guys. Hollywood will be required to cast English actors to play English characters. British sit-coms such as “Men Behaving Badly” or “Red Dwarf” will not be re-cast and watered down for a wishy-washy American audience who can’t cope with the humour of occasional political incorrectness.

You should relearn your original national anthem, “God Save The Queen”, but only after fully carrying out task 1. We would not want you to get confused and give up half way through.

You should stop playing American “football”. There is only one kind of football. What you refer to as American “football” is not a very good game. The 2.15% of you who are aware that there is a world outside your bordersmay have noticed that no one else plays “American” football. You will no longer be allowed to play it, and should instead play proper football. Initially, it would be best if you played with the girls. It is a difficult game. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which is similar to American “football”, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like nancies). We are hoping to get together at least a US Rugby sevens side by 2005. You should stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the ‘World Series’ for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.15% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. Instead of baseball, you will be allowed to play a girls’ game called “rounders” which is baseball without fancy team strip, oversized gloves, collector cards or hotdogs.

You will no longer be allowed to own or carry guns. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous in public than a vegetable peeler. Because we don’t believe you are sensible enough to handle potentially dangerous items, you will require a permit if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

July 4th is no longer a public holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but only in England. It will be called “Indecisive Day”.

All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and it is for your owngood. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean. All road intersections will be replaced with roundabouts. You will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips. Fries aren’t even French, they are Belgian though 97.85% of you (including the guy who discovered fries while in

Europe) are not aware of a country called Belgium. Those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called “crisps”. Real chips are thick cut and fried in animal fat. The traditional accompaniment to chips is beer which should be served warm and flat.

Waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

As a sign of penance 5 grams of sea salt per cup will be added to alltea made within the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, this quantity to be doubled for tea made within the city of Boston itself.

The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all, it is lager. From November 1st only proper British Bitter will be referred to as “beer”, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as “Lager”. The substances formerly known as “American Beer” will henceforth be referred to as “Near-Frozen Knat’s Urine”, with the exception of the product of the American Budweiser company whose product will be referred to as “Weak Near-Frozen Knat’s Urine”. This will allow true

Budweiser (as manufactured for the last 1000 years in Pilsen, Czech

Republic) to be sold without risk of confusion.

From November 10th the UK will harmonise petrol (or “Gasoline” as youwill be permitted to keep calling it until April 1st 2005) prices with the former USA. The UK will harmonise its prices to those of the former USA and the Former USA will, in return, adopt UK petrol prices(roughly $6/US gallon – get used to it).

You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns,lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you’re not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you’re not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you’re not grown up enough to handle a gun. 15. Please tell us who killed JFK. It’s been driving us crazy. Tax collectors from Her Majesty’s Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all revenues due (backdated to 1776).

16. Last but not the least, and for heaven’s sake…..it’s Nuclear as in

“clear” NOT Nucular.

Thank you for your co-operation and have a great day John Cleese

Not Much to report tonight. I spent most of today out and about in my wheelchair. I must admit, I’ve never seen Congleton park so beautiful. Anyway, knowing my concern with the evolution/creation debate (I use the term loosely – its pretty one-sided) my brother Luke sent me this quite brilliant article found in the National Geographic. It contains just enough sarcasm to keep it entertaining. Cheers bro.

And,, before I forget, happy birthday Mark!

ooh, I’m happy. I’m listening to frank zappa being played on 6music. My lsa at macc college, Will, introduced me to frank zappa; It’s some of the weirdest, funkiest music ever, with some really cool instrumentals. I’d recommend ‘Catholic girls’, ‘crew slut’ and ‘don’t eat the yellow snow’.

today I would like to address the comments Mark made on my blog about my use of the ”us and ‘them” mindset. I must admit I find this subject incredibly difficult: is there a disability subculture, set apart from the dominant, able-bodied culture, or is there one homogenous mass described as ‘human’? this question is hard for me to answer, because, as usual, I see both sides of the argument.

The disabled are an odd group of people. Disabled people can belong to any religion, any ethnic group. They may have grossly divergent political views. Indeed, they may have nothing in common with each other, save that they are disabled. With ethnicity (I do not use the term race) one’s direct family belongs to the same group, and one may select friends from that group, so the case for a subculture is clearer. Yet, with the disabled, it is not so clear-cut. I have many nondisabled friends, and a nondisabled family. Indeed, even the term disabled is contentious: just because dad can’t run as fast as the spandex-clad athletes on T.V, he pointed out last night, does that make him disabled?

The question is, are we a subculture, a group of people who are somehow linked? If so, what links us? The answer, I think, is necessity. Disabled people, for the most part, have certain experiences in common, ranging from being unable to enter public places to being pushed into special schools. It is shared experiences that bring us together – common struggles. We all have similar problems, and I think many people find the knowledge that we are not alone in those problems comforting. Moreover, it is only by coming together and combining wills that these problems may be solved.

Now, this may seem to imply that, as a single group of people, we face an equally united enemy. Not so. I do not think we are being systematically repressed by an opposing culture, just as black people were once repressed by the white people. While I maintain that there are parallels between segregated education and aphartied, the reasons behind the former are not the same as the reasons behind the latter. Segregated education arose out of a grossly misguided concern for the wealth fare of disabled children, rather than a hatred of them, or a will to keep them out of the way. Granted, I suspect that some may harbour the unconscious urge to repress disabled people, butt I am sure these people are in a tiny minority. There is no overt group of people campaigning to relieve us of our rights, but rather an inherited status quo which was not geared towards the needs of the disabled.

By and large however, society is slowly gearing itself towards the inclusion of disabled people. Almost everyone agrees upon the necessity of this inclusion. Thus, there is an ‘us’, but paradoxically not a ‘them’, as there is no overt, opposing force. We have already seen that the disabled are a group o9nly because they face the same struggles, but once they work together to remove these problems, they will have as much in common as any other two people.

Thus we are a subculture through necessity. At the same time, I have many good friends who are disabled, but they would be my friends regardless, and the same applies to my nondisabled friends. I am, I must admit, proud to belong to this subculture, which has so many great people in it, but I am equally proud to belong to humankind. You see now why I find this subject so complex. It is full of paradoxes: we are all the same, yet we are all different; the disabled are a group, yet we are innately no different to anyone else.

Regardless, I will continue to campaign for the rights of disabled people. I got a sense of belonging at the Onevoice weekend which I have not felt before – the sense of security one gets when one is around people you have a great deal in common with. This is a group of people to witch I belong and can contribute. There is no ‘them’ to oppose disabled people, but there certainly is an ‘us’.

a few minutes ago, I saw my father jump around the front room in a manner that would have seen my brothers and I severely told off by mum. The reason for this show of boyish euphoria was England’s magnificent victory in the cricket. Well, it was magnificently narrow – perhaps it was so sweet because the margin of victory was so tight. Two runs! It could hardly have been closer. We go into the third test all square. I can hardly wait!

Although I have never seen her stand up show, I’m quite a fan of Francesca Martinez, who appeared on last night’s episode of Extras. It seems logical to me that the more disabled people appear on t.v, the better, provided it is done in an unpatronising manner. To present us crips as the ‘typical’, fallible humans we are can only be a good thing. This is why I was pleased to see Martinez appearing on Extras last night. Gervais’ humour is, by and large, founded on the principle that the more the audience cringes, the better, so the inclusion of disability humour was an excellent choice. Most of the comedy came from the way that Martinez’s character always showed the bias in Gervais’, thwarting her chances of going out with her sister. He highlighted some of the prejudices in able-bodied society. Thus, mr Gervais is to be applauded.

However, one thing sits uneasily – why was she made into a religious person who hoped to be cured in heaven? This, however, was the only blemish on a commendable episode.