A few years ago, when we were still living together, I remember Lyn saying to me one Christmas that she was glad I was with her as she had spent so many of her previous Christmases alone. I found that very moving: Lyn always was a very solitary person – I suppose she had had to be – and for most of her life had just had her personal assistants as company. Her Christmases had therefore been quite glum affairs, so she was grateful for my company, at least for a while.

My parents called me earlier. Until this morning, the plan had been that I would go and spend Christmas day and boxing day with them at the old family base in Harlesden. Yet for various reasons, that plan has had to be postponed. Not least, the COVID situation is becoming worrying again. Thus it looks like I’ll be spending Christmas here with Serkan. Yet while I was looking forward to seeing mum and dad, getting plenty of parental cuddles and eating lots of Mum’s Christmas pudding, I know I need to remember that this is something we’re all going through: it might be hard, it might be lonely, but I’m far from the only one experiencing this. I also know that Lyn and many more people like her go through far, far worse, particularly at this time of year. That’s why, when my parents told me the bad news this morning, I thought of Lyn and what she had once told me.

Things might be rough at the moment; the pandemic seems to be going on without end in sight. But end it will; we just need to be patient. I take strength from Lyn, and other people I know like her – people with the will to get through anything. If they had the strength to overcome so much, surely I can get through a christmas alone – surely we all can. And when this is all over and we get the all clear, I know there will be plenty of mum’s christmas pudding waiting.

It worries me how oblivious I can be sometimes. You may remember how, four years ago, I was thrilled to discover the great Danny Boyle filming at Charlton House. He was working on a series called Trust, about the Getty family and empire. Thinking about it this morning, I tapped it into google, and was happy to find that Trust is now available to watch on Disney+, which I’ve had a subscription to for a year. Of course I immediately started watching it and I’m finding it fascinating. I’m just gutted I didn’t realise where I could watch it months ago.

I know I give Disney a bit of a bad press sometimes, but I must admit they are currently producing some really good stuff. I’ve watched some really great films and TV programs on their streaming service this last year. Indeed, between Disney, Netflix and good oldd BBC Iplayer, I’ve really been spoiled for choice.

Just to pick up on my James Bond-related musings from a day or two ago, it seems to me that now might be a good time for a change of tone in the franchise. Daniel Craig and Pierce Brosnan before him played Bond very seriously; they both made colossal impacts on the franchise. Their films were action driven and largely humourless. I don’t envy any actor the task of following them, especially given the legacy of Craig and the mark he has made on the character, so now that EON are looking for someone new to wear the famous tuxedo, might a tonal reset be in order? After all, it has been done before: knowing he couldn’t compete with Sean Connery, Roger Moore camped up Bond and played the character for laughs. His Bond films are more comedy spoofs than serious action thrillers. Is now the time for a similar change in tone for the Bond series? After all, that might be the only way to follow Craig, and I’m quite sure we could all do with something lighter right now.

I’m not completely sure whether I should note this for fear of making myself look a bit daft, but yesterday I was in one of the posher local supermarkets when something odd happened. I still wear a cap adorned with anti brexit badges when I’m out and about. I was just leaving when suddenly a youngish guy walked passed me. Spotting my cap, out of the blue he exclaimed something like “Brexit! Yes! Best thing ever!” He may well have just been trying to wind me up, but of course I was immediately incensed. I started to shout a few choice words at him, which he either didn’t understand or ignored, and the incident was over at that. It was barely worth noting really, if only to say something about the strength of feeling and division which still surrounds Brexit in the UK.

I have recently come across one or two online speculations about the possibility of turning the Bond franchise into a television program or Marvel-style universe. Apparently in today’s Sun – not that I’d ever read that rag – there’s a story about a ‘war’ between Amazon and EON over it. I was thinking about launching into one of my longer, arty entries explaining why that’s such a stupid idea and why the James Bond films should remain films, touching upon things like the specificity of the cinematic experience when it comes to films like these; but I don’t think that is ultimately necessary. You don’t need a Master’s in Film Studies to know that changing a cultural cornerstone as beloved as Bond would be ridiculous. While I’m usually all for taking things in interesting new directions, we have all grown up going to see a new 007 film every few years; to mess with that formula now would strip it of all cultural and artistic integrity. It would be a repeat of what happened to Star Wars, in my opinion, once Disney started churning out ever more derivative spin-offs. I’m thus very glad to see that Barbara Broccoli and Michael Wilson are putting a lid on the stupid idea. Bond Films should remain just that: cinematically-released films about British special agent James Bond.

This was just too timely for me not to nick. Carrie was only a day late.

It would seem that the main news this evening is that Boris Johnson and his tory mates are a bunch of arrogant, entitled arseholes who think the rules governing the rest of us don’t apply to them. In other news, the Earth is spherical, water is wet and Brexit is nothing but a crime.

Seriously, if Johnson had any sense of honour, let alone any compassion for how much other people have suffered over the past two years, his resignation would be in this evening’s news.

I was going to leave blogging about this until I had finished watching all the episodes, but I’m currently on an Office marathon, and it is getting too amusing/interesting not to note here. After watching the first two episodes of the UK version last week, I decided to take it seriously and systematically go through the UK original followed by the American remake; I thought that would throw up some interesting comparisons to draw. I finished the original series on Sunday, and due to the fact that episodes are only twenty minutes long, I’m now up to the second season of the American version.

I suppose the first thing to say is that both series are utterly hilarious: watching the two seasons of the original had me in raptures. David Brent is still an obnoxious tosser – possibly the biggest wanker ever to hit UK TV – yet he is also a sublime comic creation on a par with Basil Fawlty or Victor Meldrew. He is arrogant and repugnant, yet there is a type of naivite to him which is almost tragic: he has no idea how outclassed he is by those around him, and in the end you can’t help pitying him. Watching the episodes in one go, though, it became clear that the program was not just about Brent. The supporting cast – if I can call them that – play a major role. Brent may think he’s the star of the show (which is kind of the joke) but the characters around him play off this repugnant creature, developing their own personalities, backgrounds and narratives so that by the end the program starts to feel like a serious series. While they all still have comic moments, people like Gareth and Tim eventually turn into characters we actually care about, which is ultimately what made The Office so great and influential.

I can already see the same thing happening in the American series. Before yesterday morning, I had never seen anything of The Office (US) but luckily it’s all on Netflix. Having just watched the first two seasons (there’s a lot more of the American version than the British one) I can already see the same dynamic of repugnant, arrogant boss surrounded by the same collection of slightly oddball employees. I find it interesting that this is essentially the same program, but reset and remade for an American audience. It was created to fit American tastes and use American cultural references. Has any other television show been rebooted like that? We thus see references to things like American healthcare and laws which aren’t in the UK original. It has the same initial concept and underlying structure, yet the program has been entirely remade using American material, as if the original program wouldn’t do and needed to be remodelled and presented as American.

That is not to say it isn’t funny: Brent’s substitute, Michael Scott (played by Steve Carell) is just as up himself as his British prototype; the supporting cast still bounce off him in the same natural yet hilarious way. The show has just as much to say about office dynamics and human nature. I’ll probably write more when I finish watching the entire series, but it is fascinating to see how America adapted a classic bit of British comedy to suit it’s own cultural norms.

‘Chuckie Egg’ is a name I can’t have heard in well over twenty-five years. It is the name of a game once played on BBC Micro computers. BBCs were very basic machines by today’s standards, but I still have very fond memories of them: in the eighties and early nineties, they were used in schools. My parents bought one for the family, in part so I could learn to type, write stories and communicate. You could also play basic computer games on them too, loaded using thin floppy disks. One of them, I vaguely remember, was called Chuckie Egg, a simple platform game. Every breaktime at school I either used to try to play it, or sit and watch my classmates playing it.

I had naturally totally forgotten about it. On the BBC’s Click program yesterday, it was mentioned that somebody has now created an online BBC Micro simulator. That of course caught my interest, so I just tapped it into Google. I’m not sure I’ve found the full simulator they mentioned yet, but I think this is worth flagging up. Chuckie Egg can now be played online, in all it’s BBC glory. I know computer games have come on a long way since I watched my friends playing this, but you can’t beat a classic.

I realise that the Emirates Air Line isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and doesn’t always get the best press, but if you ask me, London could do with more cable cars like it. Now, hear me out: London has one of the most advanced public transport systems in the world. It’s far from perfect, of course – nowhere near enough tube stations are wheelchair accessible, for one – but I can get around the city in a large variety of ways, from tube trains, busses, trams or even boats. Out on my trundle yesterday, I was crossing the river on the cable car, and it occurred to me that it was a great addition to the transport network. While it may be a bit of a tourist attraction and novelty, it nonetheless is an excellent way of getting from the North Greenwich Peninsular to the Excel Centre, affording passengers great views across the city en route. Now that there is more and more traffic on the roads, I reckon London should start building more cable cars like it, perhaps at other points along the Thames, or up in the city centre, say between parks. That way, fewer people would need to use busses, cutting traffic.

One of the first things I came across on the web this morning was this Youtube video about how the word Omicron was pronounced in Star Trek. It struck me as quite of-the-moment, although as someone who just goes by how their communication devices pronounce words, I don’t think there’s that much I can say about it.

I went to a GAD meeting yesterday afternoon. GAD is an organisation of local disabled people, based in Greenwich. The meeting, however, was in Woolwich: some people want to do a podcast made up of people with disabilities talking about their experiences, what they had to go through to achieve their independence and so on. It was quite a fascinating meeting, and I felt grateful to have been invited. I’ll flag up the finished podcast here when I can. I do, however, want to relay a story I heard yesterday: it was told by an older fellow with body deformities, and really stuck with me. He told us that a few weeks after he was born, his mother despaired at having a disabled son so much that she wanted to smother him. She believed his life would be so difficult as a disabled person that she couldn’t put him through it. When she was just about to do so though, he laughed. His laugh was apparently so lovely that she suddenly found that she couldn’t go through with it, and thus his laugh saved his life.

I find this story quite moving, not just because of what it tells us of good luck, but because of what that poor mum must have had to go through. It says something about the kind of assumptions people make about the difficulty of lives like mine. It makes you wonder, too, how many other disabled babies weren’t so fortunate.

Under current circumstances, I think this is well worth nicking.

I must admit I’m suddenly having second thoughts about getting onto busses or the tube. Before we first heard of the Omicron variant a few days ago, I had grown fairly relaxed about using public transport. As I’ve said before, it’s not really practical for me to wear a mask, but I nonetheless think they are vital if we’re ever going to get over this pandemic. If you can wear a mask, you should. The problem is, these days, everyone seems to have grown so lackadaisical about mask wearing, these days I struggle to see more than two people wearing one on a bus these days. The result is I have begun to think twice about going on my usual trundles, preferring to keep within easy powerchair distance, or not going out at all.

I was eighteen or so in 2001. I vaguely remember, watching TV in bed one night, catching the end of a program I initially took to be a documentary. It was about people working in an office. I watched a bit of it, but soon found the main boss character so nauseating, so up himself, that I couldn’t watch any more.

I hadn’t watched The Office since then. Even after I twigged that it was a comedy, it just sort of crept under my radar. In the twenty years since it first aired, I had caught clips of it of course; but I’d never sat down to watch a full episode or series properly. Last night, however, I noticed that the beeb were re-airing the first two episodes of the first series on bbc2, introduced by commentary from various celebrities, including Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant. What they were saying piqued my interest, so I decided to watch the episodes properly in full today.

My parents paid me a visit today. I hadn’t seen them in ages, and it was a lovely visit. As independent as I like to be, Mum and Dad still have a knack of sorting things out. After a very nice lunch, and after they had said goodbye, though, I settled down to see what The Office was about. I now honestly believe that what I found myself watching was a work of genius: I’ve only watched the first two episodes so far, but they made me laugh out loud harder than I have done in months. The observation and characterisation was sublime. David Brent is still a monster, but what I once found nauseating I now recognised as a great, great comment on human nature and the kind of sickening lack of self awareness we see in so many people these days.

Indeed, it occurred to me that we could detect whiffs of Brent in the pompous prick currently running the country. Both men are hideously un-self aware with grossly inflated egos; both think they are far more popular and likeable than they really are. If that is so, though, then it makes me wonder if the BBC could be repeating this series now specifically to make a political point.

Just to follow up on yesterday’s entry a bit, would it be cool to get a large, framed tube map to hang on my wall somewhere? I rather like London’s tube map: I look at it online when I need to work out how to go somewhere of course, but I also find it quite nice to look at. It’s like a multi-coloured bowl of spaghetti, at once chaotic and logical. I like to look at it whenever I go on the tube, as it kind of reminds me how enormous and fascinating this city is. On the other hand, would having a tube map hanging on my wall be a bit passe? I’ll also need to wait a bit until the new tube maps start including the Elisabeth Line.

This may be from 2019, but I think it’s a good illustration of how little the prat currently running the country is respected.

So far I haven’t really done much to decorate my flat. I mentioned the bouzouki player painting a while ago, which still hangs proudly on the wall to my right, but other than that the walls are blank I do, however, have an idea: for a while I have been trying to find a way to get a large copy of the photo below, preferably printed on a substantial canvas. As a Bond fan, I think it would be awesome to have it on my wall, say 150cm by 150cm. If anyone has any suggestions about how I could make this happen I’d appreciate it.

Just to follow up on this entry from a couple of years ago, I’m enormously proud to report that my old school alumnus Dan Holt is now officially a barrister. He passed his last exam a few weeks ago and should be called to the profession sometime this month. I find that incredible, I must say. His new profile pic on Facebook, of Dan looking smart in his curly white wig, looks awesome. I would just like to take this opportunity to congratulate him heartily and wish him the best of luck. I officially know a lawyer!

Is John Cleese trying to steal Monty Python and it’s legacy for the Right? I just came across this article outlining how he is now saying that programs such as Monty Python would never have come about under contemporary conditions. As the article points out, his recent right-wing pronouncements have attracted the ire of many, including from most of his fellow Pythons. By arguing that political correctness stifles free speech, Cleese is trying to claim that avant guard, barrier-challenging comedy programs such as Python could not have happened in contemporary PC culture. Yet it was precisely the liberal, educated left wing philosophies which brought about Python which now underpin Political Correctness. Python was a rebellion against the very conservatism Cleese now espouses. Python broke barriers, but there is a huge gap between challenging social norms and the type of crass, offensive humour that cleese and those who think like him are arguing is now being censored. In trying to argue that Political Correctness stifles humour, Cleese plays directly into the hands of those who would use comedy as an excuse or disguise for intolerance.

In Monty Python’s Life Of Brian for example, Python exposes the absurdity of religion, yet it did not intentionally cause offence or reinforce stereotypes. Political Correctness is an effort to steer cultural discourse away from outdated stereotypes which people may now be offended by. It is an attempt to prevent people wantonly laughing at and belittling those they perceive as different, simply because they are different. Python sought to make people laugh and question, not offend; yet the brand of humour cleese says is now being censored does just that. In effect he is attempting to hijack monty python to fit his own anachronistic right wing views, but in doing so totally distorts what python was all about.

I love Monty Python and always will, and watching them live in 2014 will always be one of the greatest moments of my life. It was a type of educated, informed humour: absurd, yet underpinned by a huge intelligence. While it challenged barriers it did not set out to offend. Political Correctness would thus have had no issues with it. By arguing that it would, however, Cleese is trying to reposition Python onto the political Right, when in fact it is squarely on the left. After all, it is conservatism which stifles creativity as it seeks to preserve the social and economic hierarchies which allow thee rich few to dominate the poor many; it is liberalism which seeks to tear such structures down. As he becomes ever more ingrained in Outism and right wing politics, Cleese grows ever more desperate to claim Python for himself, when in truth Python was the antithesis of what Cleese now advocates. After all, while Cleese made a great contribution, he was just one of six great comedians to make up Python, all with unique, highly intelligent personalities. It disgusts me to see this once great, intelligent, funny actor try to hijack possibly the greatest comedy program of all time for himself.

I’ve mentioned here before that I use an Ipad instead of a dedicated communication aid these days. While they aren’t specifically designed to assist people with communication like my Lightwriter was, I find using the Ipad has various other advantages: having one on my lap when I’m out and about is extremely useful, allowing me to do anything from make notes to – when I’m connected to a Wifi network – checking my Email or Facebook. I find it practical and handy. The app I use for communication is called Proloquo2go, very kindly installed for me by the teachers I work with at school. It’s a very cool app which I can’t really fault. It has both minspeak and ordinary typing modes, the latter of which I use. It has a very good prediction system, meaning I can say what I need to quite quickly.

However, I have noticed something odd (and slightly disturbing) about it which I just want to note: the prediction system seems to have a religious, christian bias. It constantly suggests christian words for me. That is, when I type J it always suggests ‘Jesus’; when I type G it suggests ‘God’ and so on, irrespective of the context. Perhaps I shouldn’t mind, but as an atheist I resent having religion imposed upon me in this way. The app seems to assume that it’s users want to talk about religion and religious figures they might not believe in – I certainly don’t. Of course, this is only a minor issue, and no reason to start looking for another speech app; but I really don”t like the way in which whoever designed this speech app chose to force their faith upon whoever uses it.

Perhaps I should have noted on here that yesterday was the 25th anniversary of the release of Star Trek First Contact. It’s still, more or less, my favourite Star Trek film, made even more special for me by the fact that it played a major role in my MA. If you ask me, First Contact was just about Star Trek’s peak in terms of films; it was all pretty much down hill from then on. Insurrection and Nemesis were pretty dire, and then came the awful Abrams reboots. Mind you, I must confess it hass been years since I last watched First Contact, so perhaps this anniversary gives me a good excuse to dig out the DVD.

I had just decided on what I want to blog about today and thought I better check what I’d already written about it, but it seems I just need to direct everyone to this four year old entry. I watched Top Gear last night, but I think that might be the last time I do so: it is now a pathetic, nauseating shadow of the program it once was. Even guys like me, who can’t drive and are strong advocates for good, clean public transport, enjoyed it. But now, hosted by three chavvy caravan-advocating morons, it really has lost it’s way. As much as I loathe the right-wing p’tahk, Top Gear hasn’t been the same since it lost Jeremy Clarkson, and the longer the show is fronted by three idiots who don’t actually like cars but think the program was just about juvenile stunts, the more ridiculous it will look. The thing is, I was obviously saying the same thing four years ago, yet the Beeb still insists on airing this washed out husk of a once great motoring program.

I think I’ve mentioned on here before how much I love London. Having lived here for almost twelve years I have become intoxicated by the sheer vibrancy of this metropolis. Yet the fact remains that I come from a small Cheshire town, and to be honest I think I’ve started to miss it. As much as I love London, I’m a northerner and always will be. That’s why I was so dismayed to hear that the tories are abandoning the planned infrastructure upgrades up there. Every time I go out for my trundle, I see new buildings being constructed and improvements being made across this city: it’s now clear that, for all the governments talk of levelling up, there is still a huge north/south divide in terms of investment in this country. When you remember that, fingers crossed, Crossrail will start working next year, a transport project costing billions, but which will benefit more or less only London, but a project intended to improve transport between northern cities can get binned just like that, that imbalance starts to look quite obscene. At the end of the day I come from the north; to see it being left behind like this when everywhere around me brand new buildings are rocketing into the sky really is troubling.

Apart from the occasional couple of days here and there, I have barely been ‘home’ in the past decade; the pandemic has obviously made it especially hard. To be honest I think I miss it. I wonder what places like Stoke, Crewe and Macclesfield look like these days? I wonder what I would see if I could trundle around them as I now trundle around London. But then, I’m told public transport is still not as accessible there as it is in London, which I suppose is part of the very issue I’m trying to get at. The disparity between London, the South-East and everywhere else is vast and growing. It’s starting to worry me. This week’s cancellation can only cause more division and resentment.

I have to say that, after yesterday, I cannot respect the USA. How can any society let anyone walk free after he walked into a town, armed and looking for trouble, and killed two people? Yesterday’s news that Kyle Rittenhouse was let off scot free is surely a travesty; it will only encourage more vigilantes to go looking for trouble. This verdict just about gives the green light to any hot headed American kid to pick up a gun and shoot whoever they like, safe in the knowledge that if they play their cards right (and have the right skin colour) they can get away with it. It plays straight into the hands of far-right American gun culture, which more or less holds that you should have the right to shoot whoever you want. You really must despair that a nation which prides itself on being so advanced and noble can sink to such depravities.

Today I would just like to suggest a new rule for London public transport, which I thought of a couple of days ago. If someone is running for the bus just as it’s about to set off, the driver should only reopen the door to let them on if they are wearing a mask. Sat in the wheelchair space, I have lost count of the times I’ve seen people run up to a bus just as it’s about to leave a stop, and practically beg the driver to reopen the door. At least this rule might encourage them to mask up.

This might not be particularly fashionable, but I must admit I’m a bit of a fan of the BBC. Like the NHS, it is a UK institution funded by the public which we can all access equally, free of adverts. Among other things, I trust it the most as the source of my daily news. I think it is worth cherishing and defending. I just read that next year it will be celebrating it’s centenary with a range of programs including documentaries and comedies, including a three-part series titled David Dimbleby’s BBC: A Very British History. If you ask me, it will be an occasion to support: we are lucky to have a broadcast institution as highly respected as the Beeb in the UK. For one thing, the greatest natural history broadcaster ever, Sir David Attenborough, will be marking seventy years since he started working for the Beeb and sixty since his first documentaries aired: that in itself is quite incredible and worth celebrating. Thus I think the Beeb has every right to mark it’s centenary, and I’m looking forward to seeing how it does so.

I don’t read enough these days. Well, let me put that another way: I probably read loads, but all of it on my computer or Ipad. It has been ages – years, possibly – since I last sat down and read from a book. The truth is, it is’t that comfortable for me to do so any more: I struggle to hold the book still, and turning pages seems to be much harder than it once was. I find it generally a lot easier to just sit at my desk and read from my screen, or have the computer read it to me. The problem with that is, I then only consume the short, direct, largely artless prose one finds on the web. I suppose that’s okay, if you only want to read news articles and facebook updates; yet part of me misses the more involved, elaborate writing you only find on printed pages. Surely that is what proper reading is.

While I have my excuses, however, I worry that this problem is much more general. Nobody seems to be reading anymore. A combination of the Web and celebrity culture means that most people seem to have the attention spans of five year olds. Everyone wants everything delivered in snippets or clips. If it isn’t happening at that very moment, people loose all interest. You only have to look at Saturday evening television and the editing of programs like Strictly Come Dancing to see this MSG-type entertainment. While that might be just as well – who am I to judge what other people watch? – I fear it turns us all into shallow, uncritical consumers as opposed to analysts aware that we are being shown something for an underlying reason. To read anything properly you must engage with and think about what you are consuming; in this sense reading is, by definition, an active process.

I suppose that’s why I miss books: sitting down with a text written by a single author allows you to truly engage with a subject; thinking is actively encouraged. Browsing the web might be far easier, but on it you can only glance at a subject rather than read about it. I fear that superficiality is the direction we’re all heading in.

I suspect it will now be a long, long while before we hear anything more about James Bond. Now that No Time To Die has come out and Daniel Craig has left, I think EON will give the franchise a rest before doing anything more. By that I mean three or four years. Craig has left such a mark on the character, the producers will want to let the dust settle – that, at least, is what I would do.

Or so I thought. En route to bed last night I had another small but notewothy idea: next year marks the queen’s platinum jubilee; seventy years on the throne and all that. Whether you’re a monarchist or not, it will be a huge cultural occasion for the UK. What if EON used the event to announce the next Bond actor? After all, the franchise already has firmly established royal links. It would be the perfect opportunity to announce the next incarnation of Britain’s favourite secret agent. By then, it would have been more or less a year since the release of No Time To Die, which is probably a big enough gap for things to be reset.

That, at least, is what I would do. Whether it happens or not remains to be seen; I’m just noting an idea. Exactly how they could go about it and what sort of grand entrance the new 007 would get is anyone’s guess. I don’t think the queen would be up for anything on the scale of her Olympic entrance. Nonetheless, it could be interesting to see whether the pairing of the Queen and James Bond could be picked up again.

I’m not sure how true this is, but if it is true, we need more bus drivers like this!

My floor was badly in need of a mop earlier, and when that happens I find it’s better if I get out of the house for a couple of hours. I just had a nice long trundle through Kidbrooke, over to Lewisham and back through Blackheath. Not much really, but I need to report one thing: on my way there, I saw the very bus I wrote about a couple of days ago – bus 007! When I saw it, I couldn’t help letting out a squeal of excitement, and this music instantly popped into my mind. (All right, I know this is a blog entry just about the fact I saw a bus with a certain number, but it’s my blog, okay?)

Not that I want to endorse the right wing rag, but when the Express reports that public opinion is turning against Brexit, surely it’s a sign that the tide is beginning to turn against the crime of 2016.

All I have to say this evening is, for my next wheelchair I want one of these! Basically a quadcopter, according to the blurb, “Jetson ONE is an ultralight and extremely fun to fly recreational all-electric personal vertical take-off and landing (VTOL) aircraft.” Judging from the video, it is highly stable and manoeuvrable. It would certainly make getting around town far easier, quicker and more fun, although I just wish they hadn’t named it after an old kids sci fi cartoon.

I have just come across a little tidbit of information which made my day, week and month. I was just mucking around on facebook, when on a James Bond fan page I noticed an interesting piece of trivia: someone had asked where Fleming got the number 007 from, and someone else had replied that it was the number of the bus he used to take to get into London. The original poster had responded that this was the correct answer, so naturally I decided to check it.

Sure enough I found a web page confirming it, but then came the cool bit: I looked up the route, only to find it runs through Eltham, along a road just a stone’s throw from my place! The bus route, from Kent into Central London, is now run by National Express, but still uses the number 007. To think that Ian Fleming himself used to travel into work through Eltham, and to have this link with one of my all time cinematic heroes, really is awesome. Now that I come to think about it, I think I’ve actually seen the bus, but dismissed the number as just a coincidence.

I know why people are wearing poppies today: it is to commemorate a war, now over a century ago, in which hundreds of thousands of people died. People wear poppies this time of year to make sure we remember that brutal conflict, because if we forget it, we risk repeating it; and that must never happen. That’s why I have no problem with wearing poppies. Yet more and more these days I fear that poppy wearing has become interwoven with nationalism, and that some people, especially outists, are trying to usurp remembrance. They would whip us all up into a nationalist fever, so that Europe is perceived as the enemy and old rivalries with states on the continent are revived. Or, worse still, they would frame the goal of European Unity as the betrayal of all those who died, when in fact the EU was created to make sure we never have to see such bloodshed again. That’s the problem with poppy wearing: as a symbol it is being usurped, and used by some to say precisely the opposite of what it was intended to.

I have just got back from Eltham Palace, but disappointingly I don’t have anything cool to report. When I got there, filming had obviously wrapped and men were sweeping up the fake snow I saw being sprayed around yesterday. I’d set off feeling so optimistic – who might I meet and what might I see today? – but it just goes to show awesomeness can’t happen every day.

Up until around a couple of hours ago it had been shaping up to be a pretty lame day: I didn’t sleep at all well last night, and it had been grey and drizzly all day. At about three I thought I’d try to cheer myself up by going on one of my usual, shorter trundles. I set off for nearby Kidbrooke first to see how the construction work there is coming along, then up Middle Park Avenue, intending to pass Eltham Palace en route to Tesco before returning home. As I was rolling up to the Palace, though, I began to notice something was happening there: it was lit up with powerful light, and there were lots of people outside the main gate. As I got closer, I came across two pristine vintage cars from the nineteen twenties.

This was certainly worth interrupting my trundle for. Turning back, I rolled up to one of the people and asked him what was going on, and what do you Know? I’d stumbled upon another film shoot.

This got me instantly excited. After all, the last time this happened, I got to meet Danny Boyle. I couldn’t see much of the film equipment as it was through the gate near the palace, but the road outside the palace grounds was obviously being used as a back drop. Old, expensive-looking cars were parked on either side of the road and fake fog was being sprayed into the air as it grew darker. It looked wonderfully evocative. I got talking to the lady spraying the fog, and she told me they were shooting a film called Wonka, obviously a remake of Charlie And The Chocolate Factory. I was also told the name of the director, but I didn’t recognise it this time. Apparently, though, Matt Lucas is in it.

I stayed for a while, watching them do a take before continuing to Tesco. However, they’ll be shooting there tomorrow, I was told, so that’s where I’ll be heading after breakfast. This is why I adore London: you never know when you’ll bump into a film crew next.

I had another of my random little ideas last night which, short of much else to blog about, I think I’ll note here. I was watching a tv program about a painting created in Paris in the 1920s. It was a wonderfully evocative image of some ladies sitting in a cafe or bar by post-Impressionist painter Edouard Vuillard, instantly transporting viewers back to Jazz Age Paris. Of course, the twenties was when Paris was arguably at its coolest: writers like Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald drank in the bars with jazz musicians and philosophers. If I had a time machine, that is the time and place that I would probably choose to go back to.  Now we are in the twenties again, I can’t help wondering, when the french capital hosts the Olympic Games in three years, will it reference that era in the opening ceremony? After all, 2024 marks the centenary of the last time Paris hosted the games; wouldn’t it be cool if they referred back to the last time Paris became the world’s heady, hedonistic playground? Not that I want to preempt our french friends, or indeed get into the habit of speculating about an event which is still three years away, but I think it would be very interesting if that was the way they chose to go.

The oddest thing just happened, although I’m not talking about what is going on in parliament. Long-term readers – if I have any – may remember me mentioning going up Giantswood lane in my powerchair when I lived with my parents in Congleton. It’s an old country lane backed onto by the housing estate where I grew up: I used to take my chair down it, trundling along it for hours trying to get to the Swettenham Arms. I haven’t been that way in well over a decade.

However, since I moved to London, a new bypass has been built around the north of my old home town. Not having been up there in two or three years (at least), I haven’t seen anything of it, and only know what my parents told me about it. Being quite a fan of Google streetview though, a few minutes ago I thought I’d see whether they had driven their famous camera-car along the new road: they hadn’t the last time I checked, but it was worth another look.

I think what I found was kind of uncanny, but worth noting. The new bypass is marked on the map, and came up blue when I selected streetview; so Google had obviously ‘done’ the new road. But when I selected the view from Giantswood Lane, it showed the lane as I remember it, with green, unspoiled fields on either side. It was only when I selected the view from the new road that I finally saw the bypass, with Giantswood Lane now running over it via a brand new bridge. Obviously Google have yet to send their car along the old road since it changed, so you can only see how it looked twelve years ago. It strikes me as strange to now be able to glimpse the same spot of land, divided by a decade and radically changed. It’s also strange to now explore roads on Google which I’ve never actually been down, yet which run under lanes I once knew quite well.

I just turned my computer on, but I already think this will be the best thing I’ll be able to flag up today. I know I said I’d be steering clear of the COP conference, but the news that the largest body of delegates attending it represent the interests of the fossil fuel industry is just too stupid to ignore. “There are more delegates at COP26 associated with the fossil fuel industry than from any single country, analysis shared with the BBC shows….They found that 503 people with links to fossil fuel interests had been accredited for the climate summit. These delegates are said to lobby for oil and gas industries, and campaigners say they should be banned.” I wholeheartedly agree. How can we expect any progress on any issue, when people advocating the very activity we’re trying to curb are there trying to get in the way? Of course they’ll say they’re there to help, and try to present alternative solutions which won’t hurt the petrochemical industry quite so badly, but at the end of the day they just want to make sure they can continue to make fortunes by pumping harmful gasses into the atmosphere. Ultimately they’ll do whatever they can to hinder progress. The only way any conference like this will ever be able to move forward is if such lobbyists simply weren’t there. After all, as the article points out, “the World Health Organization didn’t get serious about banning tobacco until all the lobbyists for the industry were banned from WHO meetings.”