Thursday, January 23, 2014

The Cult of Self-Improvement

It's that time of year; adverts for new diet regimes, articles about makeovers (houses, wardrobes, faces, lives) and on-line dating (I did enjoy the BBC's two offerings on what not to put in a profile). This year, the Guardian is offering an entire weekend supplement every month to help enable its readers to live more intensely. I panicked - this directly clashes with my personal ambition, which is to live a little less intensely; to lay back and consider the lilies rather than wake up and smell the coffee.

But I can keep breathing, because the Guardian's campaign to intensify your life includes instructions for knitting a scarf. The Do Something Manifesto explains the urgency in their woolly-minded project:
"As a society, we've long championed sober diligence over the quest for thrills. But the tide of research is turning. Recent years have established that a liking for novelty, neophilia, is a reliable predictor of wellbeing, provided you've got a certain capacity for perseverance, too. Couples bond more, it's been shown, when they pursue unfamiliar activities together, rather than the comforts of movies and meals out ("Marriage," as Balzac wrote, "must fight constantly against a monster that devours everything: routine.")"
Knitwear has a place in marriage: We model
our Smitten & Mittens, a wedding present
 knitted by idlevic.
(A white man and woman huddle together,
there hands held in a red heart-shaped
double woolen mitten in front of them.)
Of course, we only got married last year and I reckon we need to tire of that thing with the hedgehog costume before we bring knitting needles into the bedroom (there's a movie about that). The Guardian also suggest starting a Supper Club which strikes me as a great idea - I know so few people who call their evening meal supper, they should definitely get together and re-enact scenes from P G Woodhouse.

However, in line with all our culture's self-improvement narratives, the Do Something supplement is about doing more work and spending money in order to improve one's social status; to gain more whimsical anecdotes ("I was once a gorilla keeper for a day"), add upholstery skills to your CV, to make more of the right kind of friends, invite them round for tea and charge them £15 for the privilege.

This is the capitalist model of self-improvement. You buy an experience; an upgrade on yourself and your life. Even if there's no monetary transaction involved (although there almost always is), it's still about labour and acquisition; regardless of whether you enjoy knitting or want a scarf, we're told that knitting a scarf
"even makes watching telly feel productive". 
The pressure to reinvent ourselves is a very profitable one. As well as the spend required to coax them into being, the new you will require new trappings of identity - a new look, new surroundings, new accessories. After a short while, you are likely to see similarities between the new you and the old you, tempting you to seek out yet another newer shinier you. Self-help is like pornography; if it truly fulfilled rather than exciting then frustrating, the consumer would not keep coming back for new variations on the theme.

I've always been attracted to people who see themselves as works in progress. As I've grown older, I have become wise to those who have found the answer, usually unexpected (vigorous wishful thinking, doga), which is going to change everything.

Diane doesn't know it, but she is one of the wisest people I know when it comes to personal change:
"It’s taken me over a decade (I am not good at life) to realise that feeling turned upside down and like you’re about to hyperventilate is just… how it feels. Even when you’re moving towards something positive, change does not feel good. It’s so much easier to resist, to give in to the magnetic pull of I can’t do this. But it turns out that resistance and all those crappy feelings are part of the process. When you don’t recognise your life and nothing feels safe, it probably means you’re moving forward. 
"The other messed up, un-movie-montage-like thing I’ve learned is that change can be slow. Sometimes it’s so slow that it doesn’t seem like change at all."
I don't believe Diane is not good at life. Many people get through their whole lives without making any dynamic changes at all - many are lucky enough not to need to, others don't bother to try. Outright panic may not be inevitable, but meaningful change is always hard and often slow. It almost always involves either removing oneself from a warm, familiar and often comfortable source of misery (a place, relationship, job, personal habit) or else embarking on a terrifying adventure that should lead to somewhere good. If significant change was ever easy, we'd never find ourselves in positions when it needed to be thought about in any depth..

Meanwhile, when I first saw the phrase Do Something on the Guardian website, I had a naive expectation. I thought, since the Guardian is into hand-wringing about the injustices of the world (and they sometimes publish genuinely good social justice writing), a Do Something Manifesto might be about, you know, doing something to making the world a better place; helping out in one's community, supporting one's friends and family, giving time and energy to causes that make a difference. Especially as the tide of research would suggest that this, far more than neophilia (with all due respect to Keanu), is what makes people feel good.

Monday, December 30, 2013

All The Books We Read In 2013

We turned our notebook upside down and back to front and used the other end to record all the fiction books we read in 2013. We didn't read all books together, but negotiated a running order. Some of the books we read together, one of us had read before. Some were audiobooks, some paper books and some e-books.

We also read some non-fiction books  but they're not so easy to rate or compare and Stephen read a lot of short stories.

So, the book-shaped works of fiction we read in 2013, worst to best:

Cross and Burn - Val McDermid - 4/10 (read by The Goldfish)
Dolly - Susan Hill - 5/10 (The Goldfish)
Blacklands - Belinda Bauer - 6/10 (The Goldfish)
The Hunger Games: Catching Fire - Susanne Collins - 7/10 (read by Mr Goldfish)
One Fine Day in the Middle of the Night - 7/10 (read together)
The Accusers - Lindsay Davis  - 7/10 (together)
Guns in the Gallery - Simon Brett - 7/10 (The Goldfish)
A Darker Domain - Val McDermid - 7/10 (The Goldfish)
Squirrel seeks Chipmunk - David Sedaris - 7/10 (together)
Reaper Man - Terry Pratchett - 7/10 (together)
World War Z - Max Brooks - 7.5/10 (Mr Goldfish)
The Broken Shore - Peter Temple - 7/5/10 (The Goldfish)
The Dark Adapted Eye - Barbara Vine - 7.5/10 (The Goldfish)


The Ides of April - Lindsay Davis - 8/10 (together)


Our Top Ten Books We Read In 2013

10. The Hunger Games - Susanne Collins - 8/10 (Mr Goldfish)
9. Bring Out The Bodies - Hilary Mantel - 8/5/10 (The Goldfish)
8. The Eye In the Door - Pat Barker - 9/10 (The Goldfish, on recommendation from Mr Goldfish)
7. Jagannath - Karin Tidbeck - 9/10 (Mr Goldfish)
6. Complicity - Iain Banks - 9/10 (The Goldfish)
5. The Cutting Room - Louise Welsh (The Goldfish - amazing audiobook read by Robert Carlyle) - 9/10
4. Watership Down - Richard Adams - 9/10 (together)
3. Regeneration - Pat Barker - 9.5/10 (the Goldfish, on recommendation from Mr Goldfish)
2. The Little Friend - Donna Tartt - 9.5/10 (together)
1. Oh Dear Silvia! - Dawn French - 10ish/10 (together - this was a particularly incredible audiobook production - it may not have been quite so amazing on the page.)

All The Movies We Saw In 2013

This year, we kept a notebook for all the films we watched for the first time and what we thought of them. We did this for fun and our own reference, but we might as well share our findings with you, as our tastes are impeccable. Avoid the Very Bad Films, Watch all the Very Good Films if you haven't already. Watch our Top Ten over and over and over, even the one about the giant crocodile and the other one about the sea monster off the coast of Ireland.

So, films we saw in 2013, worst to best. Where one of us had seen the movie before, the score is mostly determined by the person who was watching it fresh.

It is probably only right to disclose that one or other of us (usually me) slept through a number of these movies, but so long as one of us remained conscious throughout, we've scored it anyway - The Hobbit is the only one that scored higher than 4/10. We've left off Robot and Frank (2012) which I really do want to see the end of as Stephen says it's really very good - we'll save that for next year.

Very Bad Films 

Dark Shadows (2012) - 1/10
Carnage (2011) - 1/10
How To Rob A Bank (2007) - 1/10  
Cockneys vs. Zombies (2012) - 1.5/10
The Dinosaur Project (2012) - 2/10
Bottle Rocket (1996) - 2/10
Battleship (2012) - 2/10
Hansel and Gretel: Witchhunters (2013) - 2/10
The Bourne Supremacy (2004) - First for Mr Goldfish (but I did warn him) - 2/10
A Good Day To Die Hard (2013) - 2.5/10

We disagreed about
The Master (2012) - Mr Goldfish gave 1/10, The Goldfish gave 4/10. Either way, it wasn't great.

Quite Bad Films

Dredd (2012) - 3/10
Abduction (2011) - 3/10
The Watch (2012) -3/10
Ice Age 4 (2012) - 3/10
World War Z (2013) - 3.5/10
Greenfingers (2000) - 3.5/10
Olympus Has Fallen (2013) - 4/10
Oblivion (2013) - 4/10
The Big Year (2011) - 4/10
Man on a Ledge (2012) - 4/10

Okay Films

Total Recall (2012) - 5/10  (1 for Bill Nighy, 1 for Brian Cranston plus 3.5 for set design)
Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgandy (2004) - 5/10
In The Loop (2009) - First for Mr Goldfish - 5/10
Iron Man 3 (2013) - 5/10
The Handmaid's Tale (1990) - First for the Goldfish - 5/10
Lake Placid: The Final Chapter (2012) - 5/10
Silent House (2011) - 5.5/10
Pirahna (1978) - First for the Goldfish - 5.5/10
Little Man Tate (1991) - First for the Goldfish - 6/10
Paul (2011) - 6/10
The Dark Knight Rises (2012) - 6/10
Loups Garous (2010) - 6/10
Despicable Me (2010) - 6/10
Dodgeball (2004) - First for the Goldfish - 6/10
One Hour Photo (2002) - First for the Goldfish - 6/10
Man on the Moon (1999) - First for the Goldfish - 6/10
Don't Look Now! (1973) - First for Mr Goldfish - 6/10
Point Blank (2010) - 6.5/10
Prometheus (2012) - 6.5/10
Skyfall (2012) - 6.5/10
Thale (2012) - 6.5/10
The Adjustment Bureau (2011) - 6.5/10

Quite Good Films

Brave (2012) - 7/10
Johnny English Reborn (2011) - 7/10
Source Code (2011) - 7/10
Unknown (2011) - 7/10
Shutter (2008) - 7/10
Orphan (2009) - 7/10
The Number 23 (2007) - First for Mr Goldfish - 7/10
The Manchurian Candidate (2004) - First for Mr Goldfish - 7/10
The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012) - 7/10
Strange Days (1995) - First for the Goldfish - 7.5/10
Towering Inferno (1974) - First for the Goldfish as an adult - 7.5/10
The Last Samurai (2003) - First for Mr Goldfish - 7.5/10
Inkheart (2008) - First for Mr Goldfish - 7/5/10
The Hurt Locker (2008) - First for Mr Goldfish - 7.5/10
Don't be afraid of the dark (2010) - 7.5/10
Twister (1996) - First for the Goldfish - 7.5/10

Very Good Films

Heat (1995) - First for the Goldfish - 8/10 (but only just)
Tootsie (1982) - First for Mr Goldfish - 8/10
Warm Bodies (2013) - 8/10
Vantage Point (2008) - First for Mr Goldfish - 8/10
The Manchurian Candidate (1962) - First for Mr Goldfish - 8/10
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (2009) - First for the Goldfish - 8/10
The Tower (2012) - 8.25/10
Argo (2012) - 8.5/10
Kick Ass (2010) - First for the Goldfish - 8.5/10
Man on Fire (2004) - First for Mr Goldfish - 8.5/10
Fiddler on the Roof (1971) - First for Mr Goldfish - 8.5/10
Mama (2013) - 8.5/10
The Bourne Identity (2002) - First for Mr Goldfish - 8.5/10
The Life of David Gale (2003) - First for Mr Goldfish - 8.5/10

Sightseers (2012) - Mr Goldfish gave 8.5/10, The Goldfish abstained due to the uncanny familiarity of a serial killer character rendering the film inadvertently uncomfortable and disturbing.


Top Ten Films We Saw in 2013

10. The Wrestler (2008) - 8.5/10
9. Rogue (2011) - 9/10
8. Grabbers (2012) - 9/10
7. Rabbit Proof Fence (2002) - 9/10
6. The Hunger Games (2012) - 9/10
5. Stranger Than Fiction (2006) - First for Mr Goldfish - 9/10
4. Paranorman (2012) - 9/10
3. Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence (1983) - First for Mr Goldfish - 9/10
2. Les Miserables (2012) - 9/10
1. Das Boot (1981) - First for Mr Goldfish - 9.5/10


Uncategorised 

The Dajeeling Limited (2007) - First for the Goldfish - 8.5/10 for cinematography and soundtrack, 2.5/10 for everything else. It's very beautiful, but has very little substance and some of that substance is offensive.

Zero Dark Thirty (2012) - 8/10 for film-making, perhaps 3/10 for narrative, but we concluded that this is the wrong point in history - if ever a point exists - to document these events in the form of a movie.

The Blindside (2009) - 8/10 for heart-warming schmultz, 1/10 for social justice. I can't believe that this film was made in 2009. We had to keep retrieving our jaws from the carpet.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Thirty-Three

Ten days ago, my old friend Emma died. She was one of the most passionate and courageous people I have ever known, one of the very best friends I've ever had. Without her, I may not have survived the first years of illness. She had a brain aneurysm, then a stroke and died at the age of 32. 

Today is my thirty-third birthday. I had decided against posting my usual review of the year, but then it would be wrong to behave as if this has ruined the year. Emma was around for most of 2013. She won't be around at all in 2014, which makes 2013 an altogether better year in this respect. Death is a permanent absence, not a dark blot on a timeline, even if there is a particular point when it is more painful than it will be in the future.

In the end, I decided that the thing I can't do is write about the lows of the year, which have been numerous and some remain ongoing, but since none of them involve the death of someone I really love, they're all pale and pathetic just now. Meanwhile, I am very lucky and an awful lot of good things have happened for me this year.

Thus, the positive aspects of my year, in bullet points:

  • From the middle of February to the middle of March, we rented a cottage on the Norfolk Broads with a friend, to see how we got on living together. We got on very well. It was a beautiful place and there were several days when we watched a Barn Owl hunting up and down the adjacent field. It wasn't meant to be a holiday - we tried to carry on as normal - but it was as good as a holiday and a very nice one it was too.
  • In April, Mr Goldfish and I got legally married, amid an unseasonable blizzard. This was supposed to be a very quiet bureaucratic affair but, with the help of a small invading army of only-vaguely-invited family, ended up being really rather special. We became demi-husband and demi-wife.
  • Throughout the summer this year especially, we were lucky enough to see a lot of niblings Sophie and Alex. They're wonderful kids, if in completely different ways.
  • In July, we had our wedding in my parents' back garden. This was extremely special. We were quite nervous about doing everything differently and effectively leading the service ourselves, but apart from a slight panic the night before about whether it would be possible to broadcast on-line, it was everything we had hoped for and more besides. Thanks to all of you that helped make it so special.
  • About a week later, we embarked on what turned out to be a six week honeymoon in Ceredigion. This was blissful. I swam in the sea. I wrote and wrote. Stephen did some woodcarving. We both painted a little. It was wonderfully peaceful after months of stress and excitement.
  • During our honeymoon, we became a media sensation after Suffolk Police issued a press release about my pencil. At one point, my face appeared on the front page of Cambridge News. We were discussed on Heart FM. Google suffolk police pencil - it got all over East Anglia. Charting the progress of our media fame through a intermittent mobile connection was both surreal and hilarious. Especially as, when I told my folks about the first newspaper we were in, they wouldn't believe it.
  • I have done a hell of a lot of writing this year and have been generally feeling very good about it. If I hadn't been so ill in the last few months, I would have almost certainly finished my second novel. As it is, it's coming along very well.
  • My favourite cousin had a baby and quite unexpectedly, we got to spend an afternoon with them both soon after. New babies are always fascinating.
  • In mid-October, we celebrated my Mum's 60th birthday. She was terrified that we were planning a surprise party with all her friends and family there, despite explicit instructions not to and our reassurances that we wouldn't. So, as it was, the quiet gathering was a little like a surprise party, in that Mum had convinced herself she was in for something much worse.
  • Early in December, we learned that there's a good chance that we should be able to move out from our parents' houses into a place of our own at some point in the new year. This is very exciting news, only slightly complicated by the various and significant complications life holds at the minute.
Next year will be completely different. Right now I have many many feelings. They're not all bad, by any means; I count my considerable blessings. It is also impossible to lose someone so brilliant without reflecting on your tremendous fortune for ever having them in your life, for their good example and all the lessons they taught you. 

I hope you all have a super Christmas if you celebrate it, a lovely break if you don't and an extremely happy New Year. Thanks for reading, commenting and generally being around in 2013.

Tuesday, December 03, 2013

It's okay to call Tom Daley bisexual, even if he isn't.

Young Olympic diving hero Tom Daley talked publicly yesterday about being in a relationship with a man, provoking a huge variety of responses in my Twitter stream. These ranged from the romantic realism of "Oh good, I fancy Tom Daley and I'm a man, so there's hope for us yet!" to straight people coming out as straight in hilarious parody because, in their world, homophobia is a thing of the past... last week sometime, whatever, they're over it already.  But there was also an argument raging about what labels should be sewn on the young man's swimming trunks.

Some news outlets described Daley as gay when he had said he is still into girls. There were a deluge of complaints about bi erasure, followed by a second wave of scorn for anyone who described Daley as bi, given that he hadn't used the label himself:
Tom Daley has not said he is gay or bi. Let him choose his own label, if/when he wants to. - @kindjourneys
Find bi carping over media calling Tom Daley gay as annoying as the media calling every MSM gay. Project rigid sexual identity? No thanks. @MxsQueen.
(A deluge, as you see - there were many others but these were most direct and to the point).

On the same day, I read an article from last week, daringly entitled: Lesbianism: Sexual fluidity is a fact of life for women. The headline is misleading - the author, Stephanie Theobold doesn't actually claim that all women can experience profound shifts in who they're sexually attracted to, but does suggest a widespread degree of fluidity based on a great hodgepodge of evidence, some valid (the author herself has experienced such fluidity), and some irrelevant (glamorous straight interviewees expressing an enthusiasm for lesbianism - as does my Mum. She will physically cringe at a scene on telly where two women kiss, but on hearing that a woman is gay, she'll always say, "Well, it sort of makes sense - with another woman, you wouldn't have to be clearing up after her all the time.").

Human sexuality is fascinating and strange and labels are never ever going to cover it. In her article, Stephanie Theobold tries hard, referring to the fact she now identifies as a Kinsey 4. reminding me of folks who offer their Myers-Briggs results by way of introduction (and the fact you remember your MBTI results and offer them as important information about yourself says a lot, regardless of the actual result).

In fact, I can easily imagine a future whether someone will devise a Myers-Briggs type matrix to describe sexuality. You'd need more letters, of course. I'd guess you'd need at least four options for libido, ranging from asexual to highly sexual. Then at least four options for sexual preference - hetero, homo, bi and fluid. Of course, bisexual is complicated - many people reject bi as referring to two genders as opposed to homo and hetero, so we may need pansexual to clear that one up. For some people, being monogamous or polyamorous is something they feel is absolutely hard-wired, so maybe that should be included too.

Recently, a friend described themselves as sapiosexual (attracted primarily to the minds of others, rather than any particular shape of body) which implies yet another spectrum between sapiosexuals and... carnisexuals? - people for whom, sex is all about flesh and circus performers. Added to this is kink, which throws us into a complex web of multicoloured handkerchiefs,

In a culture which wants to place us all in one of two boxes - straight or gay - and where those boxes are loaded down with expectation, it is understandable that folks seek to define their own special box with great care. To describe myself as bisexual is necessarily an over-simplification. Bisexual is not a love story. Bisexual is not even a story about sex. It doesn't tell anyone anything about my behaviour, it isn't clear what it says about my feelings and it doesn't say whether this is how I am now, or this is how I've always been.

But as a political word, bisexual is just fine. Perhaps disability helps with this, partly because medical matters are far less interesting than sexual ones, but mostly because I'm used to separating the social and political effects of an identity (disability) from the personal mess of how I come to it (impairment, chronic illness, however else you'd phrase it).

This is why it is valid to talk about bisexuality in the context of Tom Daley. Not to say that he's bi in the sense of having joined our club and why isn't he waving our flag already. This isn't about labels, but merely description. Bless him, but the poor lad is already experiencing (hopefully unknowingly) prejudice as a bisexual man; the assumption that he must be gay, the assumption that, by loving a man, all attraction he claims to women is the folly of youth or a strategic ploy to avoid seeming too queer. He is also experiencing prejudice as a gay man, because of general assumption that he is and all the homophobia that follows.

All this becomes harder to describe if we can't use the word bisexual as opposed to experiences attraction towards his own gender and members of at least one other gender. The media assumption that a man who loves another man is gay is something which effects all bisexual people. It's okay to discuss that.

Same if we were talking about historic or fictional characters. Unless someone has identified the words they would choose themselves, we have no choice but to use the words that best describe the feelings or behaviour we witness (and sometimes we have to override folk - the protagonists from Brokeback Mountain insist that they're not queer, Liberace insisted he was straight, but we wouldn't be able to discuss their experiences without accepting that they are wrong.)

As queer people, we should reject the idea of rigid sexual identity. It shouldn't matter if anyone was born this way or happens to feel this way for the first time in their mid-seventies. But worrying about using a word like bisexual in this context is the anxiety that bisexual is something rigid, unwieldy, a mantle which, once placed on someone's shoulders, will stay on them for life. Tom Daley may never describe himself as bisexual. As disabled people, we're very used to famous and successful disabled people telling us that they don't see themselves as disabled. But if we're to talk about the way they're treated in the media and society at large, we need to use these words about them.

There are many contexts where it is inappropriate to presume a label. In conversation, we should avoid assumption and never demand that people use words they're not comfortable with. Describing famous people with words they wouldn't use themselves is very different from talking about our friends and acquaintances.

But if we want to promote a world where sexual identity does become politically irrelevant, where our labels become far more nuanced, flexible and fluid, then we need to remove the weight from the language we have to work with now, the language that everyone understands.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

This will make you cry

When I am less well - and just now, I am less well - I cry very easily. Nothing to do with unhappiness. It's more about the loss of certain inhibitions - I also laugh very easily, sometimes way too easily. But crying is more of a problem.

I might cry because something is sad, because it is happy or because it is beautiful, I cry when I try and talk about deep emotions, even (especially) entirely positive ones. And I hate it. I hate crying. Of course, I'd much rather cry than vomit - vomiting is physically painful, messy and smells bad - but crying is similarly uncontrollable, exhausting and demoralising. You don't want other people see you do it.

Worse is that most people only cry when they're really very upset. There are people I have known all my life who I have only seen cry once or twice. So it's natural to assume that a crying person is extremely distressed. Which can either make people feel anxious or guilty, or, sometimes, irritated.


Have your tissues at the ready.

I can't stand others telling me when I should or shouldn't be moved to tears except that, my heart hardened by indignation, it makes it less likely I will.

This household is obsessed with Strictly Come Dancing. Four of us sit down together and watch Strictly: It Takes Two every weekday evening, as well as the weekend shows. Every Monday, Zoe Ball interviews the dancing pair who have been eliminated at the weekend and she always tells us, averaging about ten times, that we're all going to cry. The dancers will cry. She will cry. The viewers at home will cry. Sometimes, she just talks about the urgent need for tissues, which makes the whole thing sound a bit disgusting, like everyone is about to leak or spurt in unexpected ways.

Rarely, does anybody cry. It happens occasionally, when people talk about the things that matter; the intense physical and emotional experience of learning to dance, the friendships formed, the art created. Ball thrusts a glittery box of tissues in their face as they speak, feeling the need to dramatise and glamourise something simple and human. She is the sort of person who uses hashtags in spoken language.

On-line people often precis a link with "This will make you cry."  This could be anything from a story about child soldiers in the Congo to a video of a puppy opening its eyes for the first time or the John Lewis Christmas Ad. And it's okay if any of these things do make you cry. But it's okay if they don't.

In fact, a story about child soldiers in the Congo, which is a really really terrible thing, might be less likely to make you cry. Just like the problems of our own lives, we can be numbed by our strength of feeling. We see a real-life problem as complex, and our brains are too busy trying to understand what's gone wrong and how it might be made better. This is why we can face serious illness, loss and bereavement and not cry for a good long while, if indeed ever. Or burst into tears on the spot. Complex situations provoke varied responses. All of them are legitimate.


"A mermaid has no tears, therefore she suffers more."

I have empathy issues. If I see you cry, I will probably cry. Watching TV, I will cry over a cake that's failed to rise if the person baking it is moved to. If I see you laugh sincerely, I will laugh without knowing why. If there's a crowd scene in a film when everyone is cheering for the evil tyrant, I will want to cheer, even though it is for the evil tyrant*. If I see a person or animal get injured, I can flinch so violently that I might injure myself. Increased empathy is among the stranger long-term side effects of dihydrocodeine.

(The only thing I don't copy from other people is yawning. That one's broken. I could sit in a room full of yawners, during a lecture on the contagious power of yawning and I wouldn't yawn. Odd.)

This obviously doesn't make me a better person - I feel like cheering the evil tyrant. It doesn't tell me how other people are feeling, doesn't make me understand other people's problems. I do try to understand, but that's a choice.

So much of our media-saturated culture would teach us that depth of feeling, and displays of feeling, are what counts. Last week's Children in Need is a good example. During the week, the British public gave £30 million to the Disasters Emergency Committee Appeal for the Philippines, on the strength of news reports (including reports like one I saw on the BBC, which amounted to "The trouble with Johnny Foreigner is that he can't queue in an orderly fashion, and that's why he gets into this kind of fix.")

No need for vicars in bathtubs of baked beans or moving VTs with soft focus wheelchairs and tragic music. On Friday, the British public gave about the same amount (£31 million) to Children in Need. But telethons are not really about raising money. They are about making people feel good - or specifically, making people feel like good people. The programming is designed like the most manipulative rousing sermon, with a mixture of spiritual highs (Yeah, we're really making a difference!), interspersed with deeply moving VTs about how tragic life is for the children - often disabled children or the children of disabled people (a tragedy that has nothing to do with say, the current political climate, cuts to care and services, welfare reform etc..).

And this tells you that you're a good person. You're a good person because you see suffering and respond with emotion, often with tears. You're a good person because you feel good about the fact that someone is doing something - you're supporting it, even if you're not actually, you know, supporting it. I don't know the viewing figures for Children in Need, but last year's were 8 million, raising £27 million, putting the average donation-per-viewer at under £3.50.


White Woman's Tears

Crying is a weapon of the passive aggressive. When people troll with feminine identities, they often claim to be driven to tears by the words of others. "After I read what you wrote, I cried for a whole hour!"

People do make each other cry on-line. Some people say horrible personal and insulting things. But what does the mere fact of tears indicate? If I cry and you don't, does that mean my pain is greater than yours, that your words have proven more hurtful than mine? And if - as is usually the case - we started off by arguing about a point of fact, do my tears mean that I win?

I think of White Woman's Tears; the use of hurt feelings by white women to silence black women, which often works because white women are seen as more feminine and crying - literally or figuratively - as a display of soft and gooey-hearted feminine sensitivity. Like when folk talk of sadness that Lily Allen should be met with criticism by those bullying all-powerful black ladies, when she's made such a sweet satirical video.

(This is the way my mind works. I don't experience white guilt when I cry, but you know, I think about social justice a lot.)


Crocodile Tears

I learnt to cry on demand as a stagestruck teenager, just as I learnt to fall to the ground without hurting myself (a skill that doesn't transfer to trips, falls and faints that aren't written into stage directions). The only time that's been useful has been during depression or bereavement, when tears are ironically unforthcoming, but I've really wanted to, needed to cry. Tears help to carry cortisone out of the body. I concede they have their uses, on occasion.

Obviously, you need to think of something sad. An appropriately sad thing might not be a real and seriously sad thing, like a personal bereavement - it has to be simpler than that, and less personal. Events from fiction, especially uncomplicated events, such as from children's books and films, especially things that stirred you early on. The death of Bambi's mother would work for a lot of us. The bit when Hazel realises he doesn't need his body any more at the end of Watership Down (here I go again).

After that you have to stop blinking. It helps to keep a light source in your line of vision - not to stare directly at a bright light, but to make sure you're half-turned toward a lamp, window, TV or computer screen. So your eyes are irritated.

You can sometimes tell when someone is making themselves cry. If you cry naturally, you usually lower your eyes (unless you're trying to talk to someone), you look away from the light and you blink much more than usual as your eyes attempt to rid themselves of the excess fluid. When George Osbourne was photographed crying at Thatcher's funeral, his head was up, eyes wide open and his face was turned slightly towards the light. Also, there's surely the face of a man with The Animals of Farthing Wood on his mind.


There's a genre of film called Weepy.

Last week we watched the movie of Les Miserables. I've known this music since I was eight or nine years old, and saw the stage show when I was seventeen, one of only two big shows I've ever seen (the other was Fame. It wasn't great.). The film is superb but I would have hated to sit through it in a public place. I had five separate bouts of crying.  Still, far more satisfying that my tears for the sacharine sad moments in even terrible films. I really do cry at the John Lewis Christmas Ad, despite it being twee and dreadful.

Some people seem to like crying, like Zoe Ball, and folks who chose to watch movies because they will make them cry. This isn't, I think, the paradox of tragedy - a weepy film or book doesn't need to involve hubris and might even have a happy ending. I think it is perhaps about bonding through tears. In tragedy, there is catharsis. In weepies, the emotional tank simply fills to overflowing and even if you watch them alone, you know that you feel as you're supposed to feel; you feel as the characters feel. If you're with other people, you feel as they feel. You cry together.

And I guess that's what folk are after when the tell us "This will make you cry."

They mean to say, "Feel as I feel. Cry with me"


* Stephen read this and said, "Be honest, you don't just want to cheer - you do cheer for the evil tyrant."
It's true. I avoid seeing any footage of the Nuremberg Rallies around people who don't know me extremely well. 

Monday, November 11, 2013

My Top 10 Complaints About Housing in the UK

I know - riveting! But this is something that, one way or another, effects most people I know under about 45. The effects vary greatly and I know that I am extremely lucky, an unlucky kind of way; there are folks I know who are far more securely stuck in unhappy housing situations or worse, teetering on the precipice of homelessness.

Anyway, here's why I think we're getting housing wrong in the UK:


10. It's too cheap to own a second home and leave it empty.

Second home-ownership is fairly ruinous to rural and coastal communities, pricing local people, on local wages, out of the housing market while flats and houses remain unoccupied most of the year. On the day of the 2011 Census, 29,000 residential properties in Cornwall - one of our poorest counties - stood empty.

It's not immoral for rich people to own second homes - I live between two homes, neither of which I own, but I can see the advantages of having places to live in two very different places, just as I can see the advantage in having a robot butler or more than three pairs of shoes. But what cannot be right at all is that tax law should make it cheaper to run a second home than it costs to run the first, through discounted council tax. At the very least, second-home owners should be paying full whack to support any community they own property in, given that their part time presence is unlikely to be an unmitigated force for local good.

On the same score, although MPs represent a small minority of second-home owners, they need to do much better (especially as so many have spoken of what a luxury it is for a poor person to have a second bedroom so their kids can stay over at the weekend). For one thing, any MP who fiddles their expenses to any extent needs to be fired, just like you would in a regular job. But if the tax-payer is to foot the bill for MP's second homes, this should be funded allowances according to need rather like housing benefit, e.g. a married MP with one child only needs a two bedroom property. If they want something bigger for their own comfort, they really can afford to pay for it themselves.


9. People enjoy living in expensive houses that they couldn't afford to live in if they didn't already own them.

There's house prices which vary, but fundamentally a house is only worth the cost of a similar house. If I owned a house that cost £150K, it wouldn't matter (very much) whether the price rose to £200K or dropped to £100K; selling that house would only generate enough money to buy another similar house in a similar area. I know it gets a little more complicated than that, but fundamentally.

The trouble is that people enjoy the fact that they bought their house for £3.50 thirty years ago and suddenly it's worth more money than they could ever have afforded if they didn't already own it - more money than their own kids, if they work in similar jobs, could ever dream of earning. I knew people who charted how much their house was worth during the boom as if this was real material wealth they were accumulating. High-rent prices mean that there are a lot of very wealthy landlords who didn't know a thing about property ten years ago. And the people who have benefited most tend to be of a generation who are also most likely to use their vote. They believe that they worked hard to pay off their mortgage (which they probably did, but everyone does), and if younger people can't afford to buy, that's their look out.

These people do not want to see the price of their houses fall, nor do they want their tenants paying any less rent. Yet elsewhere, when the recession hit, property prices fell and everyone survived in. We should stop seeing a property slump as the disaster to be avoided at all costs - apart from anything else, one of those costs could be a far more massive slump than would have happened otherwise.


8. We're not building enough of the right kind of housing (I)

In the UK, we're building very old-fashioned houses, with an only limited nod to environmental concerns. Outside house-building TV programs, the houses I see being built now look exactly like the houses I watched going up when I was a kid.  Where is our architectural imagination? Why aren't we using any of the technology that's developed in the past thirty years on mainstream development?

Part of this is about the environment (and for the most part, environmental materials are not expensive to use and generate work within the UK), but quite obviously, making homes where people will source most of their heat and light from the sun, ground, air or whatever, would lower the cost of living. It seems ridiculous that almost all the houses we're building now will still be predominantly reliant on fossil fuels, when those things are only going to get more and more expensive.


7. We're not building enough of the the right kind of housing (II)

Another problem with new builds is that every single one I've seen is on two storeys. They're also small, not just small rooms, but very narrow walkways, making them difficult to navigate with crutches, let alone a wheelchair.

While I don't want to sound pessimistic about old age and disability, with 1/5 of the population over 60, the number of people who struggle with stairs, at least to some extent, is an increasing minority. But there's nowhere for them to live. I know dozens of disabled people of all ages, who still live in houses with stairs, but remain on one floor or struggle - dangerously, and at detriment to their health - to get up and down stairs.

I understand that building up is much cheaper than building across, but I can't understand why there is no obligation on developers to build a small proportion of houses that are fully accessible, in the same way they're obliged to build a few that pass that vague criteria of affordability.  It's local councils who are going to have to foot the bill for adaptations on these inaccessible houses in the long run.


6. We're not building enough of the right kind of housing (III)

Most of the new building I see is happening on new estates away from existing towns and villages - not necessarily far away, but they require residents to drive to get to a shop or post-office, let alone schools, doctors and pre-existing community centres. They don't have any buildings apart from houses in them, so they don't encourage communal activities and the sort of community that builds up simply by having folk pop into the same shop every now and again, let alone a pub or Church. There are obligations on developers to plan around the prevention of crime, but nothing about encouraging or sustaining community.

By the same token, these affordable houses, whether owned or rented, are not where the work is. You're going to have to drive to get anywhere and that's going to mean that as a low-income worker, you're going to have much less money in your pocket at the end of the day. Many people cannot live near the places they work, but far fewer can afford to live in the middle of nowhere.


5. We're propping up the property market in the worst possible way.

This government cares that people will stop buying houses and all those middle-class home-owners (they're not all middle class, but the ones that matter are) will see their house prices drop. So how could you help first time buyers?  Perhaps providing its own low interest loans for first-time buyers, who've saved up a bit but are struggling to find a mortgage on a small flat or house?

Or you could guarantee a proportion of a loan up to £600,000 where the borrowers have only a 5% deposit. Because you want to help folk who have managed to save £30K to buy a £600K house - that's normal people, ordinary folk with ordinary aspirations, just needing a little leg up. And the tax-payer's money will be perfectly safe! And it's not going to artificially prop up property prices because people wouldn't be able to buy such expensive houses otherwise!

Urgh. I really don't think the government should be in the business of helping people buy property at a time when many people don't have enough to eat. But if they chose to, it should surely be low-waged first-time buyers with modest aspirations.


4. Government is afraid to further regulate, let alone compete with, private landlords.

Rent is way too high.  Rents are too high for working people who earn too much to claim benefits, but let's talk about those who can't or don't.

Much emphasis has been placed on how much money in spent on Housing Benefit (now Local Housing Allowance) with few politicians considering why this bill is so big. The sum you get is based on the cost of the smallest accommodation you could live in, in the 30th percentile of the local rental market. So for example, a single person my age where I stay in Surrey would be entitled to £346 a month, based on a room in shared accommodation. Only that's based on the 30th percentile across a region; round here, the going rate for a room is more like £500-600 a month.

Most people are either already renting somewhere or paying a mortgage when their income drops to a level where they need the extra help. Moving can cost many hundreds of pounds - people can't just up and leave (away from where the work is, away from their communities, their kids' schools etc.) because they're unemployed this month. By the time a situation reveals itself to be long-term, there's less money to make a move with. Meanwhile, if you're disabled, you don't get any extra because you need an accessible flat, or room for a wheelchair or other equipment.

The bill to the tax-payer has nothing to do with the choices made by benefit recipients. It's all about landlords - not a bunch of villains necessarily, but folk who will pragmatically charge as much as they can. If your rent goes up, you have to move or pay, and most people can't afford to move.

This is why, in 2013, we're needing food banks and Red Cross Parcels. People on low incomes (including some who are not even entitled to benefits) are spending most of their money on keeping a roof over their head and finding there's not enough left to eat.

The idea that cutting benefits will help control the rental market is bullshit. If, as taxpayers, we can't afford to pay the rent of our very poorest people, we need to control what they're allowed to be charged. Or better yet, compete with the landlords:


3. We desperately need more social housing.

Both sets of my grandparents lived in council housing before they went on to buy their own homes. They were working people and there was no shame or stigma. In fact, the council house Kelly grandparents moved into (Granny showed me on Google Streetview) was a central-heated semi-detached palace compared to the tiny terrace houses they both grew up in. They had fought and won a war, they aspired for a better life than their parents' generation and that council house was the first step on that journey.

These days, attitudes towards social housing are completely different. Many people have the idea that if you live in a council flat, you live rent-free (you might do, but only if you're out of work and poor besides). Council housing is highly stigmatised, some people don't want to live near it and many people understand the word chav as standing for council-housed and violent.

Meanwhile, folks are desperate for social housing, there are 1.7 million people waiting for social housing in England (about 3.5% of the population), let alone the numbers who need urgent transfers to non-existent smaller housing because of the Bedroom Tax (there's even talk of demolishing three-bedroom council housing that tenants can no longer afford).

We desperately need more social housing. We need to re-embrace social housing as a necessary facility that anyone might make use of if they need to (much like public transport. Only, you know, more like public transport ought to be.)


2. The Benefit Cap

When they talked about capping benefits to £25K a year a household - once they discounted Disability Living Allowance from the calculation - I thought, "Well that's a stupid crowd-pleaser, but there aren't going to be many families effected by that. £25K is a lot of money."

Only, it's not, when it's fairly easy to pay more than half that much out in rent. Frances Ryan's coverage of a recent (failed) High Court appeal by a group of women escaping domestic violence demonstrates what a mess we are in. Yes, it is a bit ridiculous that someone who is out of work should be getting more than an average salary (which, being the mean average, is more than most salaries).

However, it is even more ridiculous that someone could be having £25K income and still have no money to spend after food, bills and most importantly rent. And until we sought out that moral scandal, we need to cough up the extra in order to keep children fed and clothed.


1. The Bedroom Tax.

The Bedroom Tax is a policy whereby people in social housing who are perceived as having a spare room must now pay a weekly fine for the privilege. The "spare room" could belong to an autistic girl struggling with puberty who the government thinks should share with her boisterous six year old sister. It might be used by children who only visit on the weekend - its presence being a condition that the parent is allowed to have their kids overnight. It might be used by adult children who are away at university or in the army and do need that place to return to. It may be used by disabled people to store equipment - a wheelchair, hoist etc - or as a bedroom for one half of a couple to retreat to if pain, spasms and other symptoms make it impossible to sleep comfortably together.

Or it might be a spare room where nobody regularly sleeps, but which is part of the flat the occupants have lived in for the last forty years. Part of the home the occupants were placed in by the council.

One inevitable effect of the Bedroom Tax is to force people to move away from their work and employment prospects, families and communities. But mostly, there are no smaller places to move to, so it's just making poor people poorer. A third of council tenants are now in rent arrears and many are now becoming homeless.

There are no words for the damage this is causing, both to individuals, families, communities and society as a whole.

The first rule of any government policy relating to housing in any way?

Don't actively increase homelessness.