Tonight we saw Lewis Copaldi. I have to be honest when I say I knew absolutely sod all about him ( he’s a singer ).
When this bloke came onto the stage, at first I thought it was a fat roady just checking the microphone was working, and then was surprised he started singing.

He looked like a young Boris Johnson. Chubby with quite a lot of hair.
When women started throwing their underwear he was very amusing about it.
And I’m sure his drummer was Ricky Tomlinson, off The Royle Family.

In fact he turned out to be very funny – a piss taking, and self deprecating Scottish bloke of 22.
At one point he introduced ‘ his Bald fucker manager, Scott, who had just had a hair transplant at 28. He was sort of nice about him and ‘ then said ‘ Fuck off now ‘

That boy can sing though, and clearly can’t believe he’s headlining big crowds, probably more amazed that those crowds include posh ones in Kew Gardens.

I was of course on the human scrap heap that is the wheelchair/ disabled platform. It’s not a great place to end up, that’s for sure. I don’t recommend it as destiny.

Most regular people avert their eyes as they pass by, I notice, which I at least do understand. It’s what ‘ polite people ‘ do – not look for fear of staring at the funny people ‘ In Wales when I grew up, you’d have had kids pulling faces at us, like they used to at the Sunshine Bus, as it was called, even when the name was changed to something else.

I confess I find that a little amusing still, even now I’m on the wrong side of the glass.

Lewis himself 10/10. I had no expectation but am really impressed.

Being disabled 0/10.

I bumped into a lovely lady yesterday that once taught one of my children. I met with her 2 years ago and she told me that she had cancer ( at 36 ) and that it was serious ( as in terminal ). She was however incredibly optimistic and hopeful that she’d get through it.

To even see her alive yesterday was a surprise, and looking so well even more so. She told me that some months ago she was given 2 weeks to live, and thought that was obviously that. But after radical treatment ( medicine I mean ) in Germany, that isn’t allowed in this country, she’s alive and definitely kicking.

There is so much spinal stuff that we paralysed would volunteer for, but it’s not ‘ approved’ so only rats get it.i couldn’t give a fuck about side effects – I’d just take a bit of recovery!

She asked after my kids. I explained that the one she taught isn’t in my life at all sadly, and the other is barely. Who’d have thought it? She knows what a doting dad I was, and still would be just given a chance.

A friend of mine from schooldays wrote to me recently. We played county standard ( Gwent schools ) together for 2 years. He told me about his friend’s son ( 19 ) who had fallen asleep ( alcohol I’m sure ) on a sea wall, and fallen off, 15 feet onto his head. The boy had it all – popular, good looking, sporty, bright.

I wrote to the lad’s Dad. I’ll hopefully go to see them both in a london hospital soon.

When I last wrote to the Dad, I said that I wouldn’t be able to make it to the hospital in a morning, ‘ such being disabled life ‘.

It occurred to me actually just now that perhaps I presented him with that word for the first time. Until now, and thus far it’ll have been all optimism and hope ( unrealistically probably ) that the lad will be fine again, having recovered from his currently severe injuries. Lots of people will have been saying and thinking ‘ we hope he’s going to be alright ‘

What ‘ alright ‘ means is ‘ is he going to be normal, as in just like the rest of us?’ As in not, you know, damaged in some way… like disabled or something ‘

There’s an understandable optimism and desperation for a full and miraculous recovery. But all too often that doesn’t happen and it’s another life ruined, another person disabled… and no longer, well, normal. The world is made for normal, obviously, not abnormal. It wouldn’t make sense to make it for abnormal if you think about it… but thankfully now and for we abnormals it’s changing so that we can still do stuff with the normal people.

It’s the horrible reality but it’s not quite as horrible as it relatively recently was. We’ll always be stared at/ ignored/ pitied, and that’s understandable, but believe me it isn’t great.

And the skin cancer check up again tomorrow, as more dodgy looking stuff on me.

Don’t they know I won’t die?! I’m immortal- impossible to kill so far!

Let’s see this time 💥

Had my super hot ( lady ) gardener around yesterday. For a lady that chick is strong as…. you know what.

I’ve been trying to figure out why my garden smells like something died in it for the last month.

Turns out it was this plant with flowers that bloomed really nasty smelling flowers, or started to, about a month ago. So she dug the whole lot up and put wood chips over the area instead, and put a large drift log that she pulled out of the canal at one end to encourage wildlife, all whilst wearing little shorts.. it’s hard just watching and not doing, but there can be consolations…

As I write this I can hear an estate agent showing the flat upstairs to prospective buyers. Just as they stepped out onto the little balcony upstairs above me, to take a look at the canal view in front of me, a canal boat motored past with 2 young fellas on top. One of them shouted to another bloke on the towpath ‘ Oi, what you doing, you lazy fucking bell end!? ‘ To which the reply was ‘ Go fuck yourself, you pissed twat !’

I’ve never heard any boaters swearing this last year until they moment… but I think we can quite safely assume the flat above isn’t going to sell today…..!

You gotta laugh…..😂

After my various trials and tribulations On The Buses, I was offered by Transport for London a visit from a person to assess my wheelchair ( and Triride attachment ) to see if it was acceptable to travel on buses. If approved then I would get a special card, with my picture on it, and also a picture of me in my chair with Triride, that I can brandish to any london bus driver who says I can’t get on his bus, by way of saying ‘ Too bad mate, you’ve gotta let me on, because I have a special pass, and if you don’t you’ll be in big trouble ‘

The chap visiting was called Aerial. Needless to say I gave him a good reception ( there’s a joke in their somewhere ) at my flat, and he had a look and had a chat, and said ‘ it’s absolutely obvious that you should be let onto any bus, and I am sorry. Please call me directly if you encounter any more difficulty with any driver ‘

So that’s good then! Trouble over….. mmmm we’ll see.

Lots more happened of late –

had a Court Verdict that I’m not yet allowed to talk about, as it’s yet to be formalised,

been to a fascinating talk about world climate change with particular reference to Bangladesh, and what they are doing there by way of preparing for inevitable sea level rise. You see, it’s so low lying that loads of it will disappear under water with enormous effects on economy and population migration. The panel there included the world’s biggest cheese on the subject who said it’s theoretically possible to halt and even reverse the changes, but there is absolutely no time at all at all at all to waste, or we’ll soon actually reach the point of no return, where reversal is no longer possible

went to a festival ( Community- Finsbury Park ) – good bands but strangely muted and unenergetic crowd ( maybe because it was a Sunday and peeps take less drugs and drink less than they would on a Saturday?

been to a fetish party ( yep, lots of narcotic action there I suspect )

saw the amazing Cress in an outdoor theatre production of Salad Days

had my catheter renewed ( glamorous ) but without copious bleeding this time around,

and been to the funeral and send off of the very late ( but he actually always was ) Colin White. Loads of people there, I did make one of many speeches about Col, and it was a send off that he’d have approved of for sure. Saw lots of people there that I hadn’t seen for ages, with some that had avoided speaking to me for a long time now sort of having no choice but to ( or just look pretty bad for ignoring me ). It’ll be interesting to see whether they will now be able to maintain the geniality going forward too! For West London and for Chiswick Colin’s passing is the closing of a chapter. The man did so much! He saved my bacon once or twice, and he didn’t bar me from his club probably only because he liked me. I saw him in hospital a lot in 2018, but then it became hard to do that once he’d moved into a care home 40 odd miles away. My Triride doesn’t go that far, and isn’t allowed on motorways. However I did visit him with the help of his son about a month ago. Dementia is a very sad thing, and his onset was probably 10 years ago, though he was so eccentric and not rule abiding that it was hard to tell what was just Col, and what was irrational behaviour. I reckon it’d be hard to spot early in me for the same reasons… But rest in peace my old chum, and you’ll NEVER be forgotten.

So all in all a busy time then. I have a new carer too, which is going well. G spent far too much time enjoying herself with me and decided to go and use her skills to rescue someone else in need, which is understandable, and someone else stepped in.

I’ve even watched some Women’s football and the odd bit of tennis. The women are more watchable than the men, and you can check them out whilst observing their footwork ( if you like ) and the English females do actually have a hope, unlike their male counterparts.

Right, gotta go.

And my dear friend Colin White died on the weekend. It wasn’t exactly unexpected, but nonetheless a shock when it came.

Colin was a significant man in the lives of many that he touched. He was my buddy Dan’s father, Dan that I’ve often written about in this diary, and for 20 years was Pia’s father in law. Both Dan and Pia were at his side when he drew his last breath.

Colin left a lot of legacy behind him, far more than most people can dream of leaving. Legend is very overused these days as a description of someone, but this fella actually was. I’ll write about some things he did for me in due course.

Rest in Peace Colin, you will never be forgotten by those that met you, that’s for sure!

So Fanny becomes…

Taffy!

Thanks to The Mighty Myatt for that suggestion. Taffy is actually a nickname for someone from Cardiff/ Wales. Whilst I realise that the bird is Australian genetically, he still may have hatched in Wales, who knows, so I’ve given him an identity and nationality. I stroked Fanny for the last time and put all that behind me ….

Have you been to Thailand? Sure would be an eye opener for you given your ability to spot gender. Budgies are Australian not thai right?

Breaking news. Wait for it…

Fanny, my darling budgie…

Is..

A …

FELLA!

Well either that or it’s a very horny lesbian that’s very frustrated and identifies as a Male.

The friendly preening and beak play that followed the introduction of Fanny and Tweety soon turned into Fanny repeatedly trying to shag Tweety senseless…

Ok then!

It doesn’t seem right to call Fanny Fanny anymore, so renaming will have to take place and I think I ought to ready myself for the creation of a flock… the Birdman of Brentford might be be moniker in a few months time?

I’ve had to separate them for now, as I think Tweety was possibly somewhat harassed by my ( until then ) sweet little lady budgie…

Good Grief, that’s a turn up!