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I have found a birth certificate, in amongst the papers my father left behind him. The birth certificate for a John Thomas Mac Dermott. Born in Londonderry in 1950, three years before my father. He is the son of Patrick and Ellen MacDermott.

I was sent a family tree for this side of the family a while ago. There is no John Thomas, and no Ellen. There is a Patrick, of the right age, but he is dead, and the paper says he had no children.

What on mankind's Earth is going on?

Why did my father have this man's birth certificate? And did he want me to find it? Why isn't John Thomas McDermott or a John Thomas Mac Dermott or a John Thomas MacDermott on the tree? Who is he? Who was Patrick? Who was Ellen? Am I even meant to find this all out?

And for Christ's sake, why does this all sound quite so much like that book I read ages ago, about a boy, a gamer, who had to find his not-as-dead-as-thought uncle Patrick?

My new favourite word is "aleatoric".

It is six months since my father died.

I feel fine.

The debate teams (James, Pritesh and Giggy for the, ur, "junior" debate, and Sarah (since Otis abandoned us), Miles and I for the "senior" debate) lost pretty damn badly against Hamstead today. The motions? Well, the Junies were opposition for "this house believes that exam culture is detrimental to education", and we were proposing that "no news is good news". Which may be the crappiest motion ever, but, hey.

Owen thankfully didn't show, although the entirety of their team knew (and ours, obviously, since I had pleaded to not have to be part of this one)and I got to find out about the song they made of my name to tease him during English classes. Ha- I love teenagers.

To follow up on my last post, the demo was small, but considering the time and day and location and fact it was an emergency rally was really pretty good. Speakers were good; Martin Smith in particular, but I may well be biased here.

(AND OMG! THE FIRST MARXISM 2008 TIMETABLES ARE OUT! And the speakers rock and, and, and, I won't have to miss any of it because it's during work experience and I am totally working for Bookmarks and they're at Marxism! Ha ha, this works out so well!)

Aside from debating and politics (and school and family and making CDs for Amber and reading not enough and blogging, but you knew about those), my life has consisted of nothing. Seriously, this has been a boring couple of weeks.

Don't really know why I'm blogging, then.

LMHR was wonderful, and long ago now, but still great. I promised I'd mention the guy who both played the flute and beatboxed at the same time, since he was so obviously the highlight.

But it turned out to be futile, because unlike the event it was trying to recreate, it had next to no political effect. Or so it would seem, because there was of course the disappointingly high number of votes the BNP were given. In Brent- Brent!- and Harrow they got twice as many as Left List. And while this may be because Left List is a stupid name or because everyone thought they were to do with Galloway or because it's so new, it nonetheless has to be partly because of the way the BNP has begun to tempt people. They aren't happy with Labour, because of the war and the economy and, oh, everything, and they have begun to find scapegoats. It's scary, yes, but I'm more angry.

I wasn't going to blog politically at all today, or until the whole thing had died down and I could go back to ranting about revolutions- Communism isn't too important right now, see.

But I really want to say this: there's hope. There's hope in the Anti-Nazi League, and all the other remnants of the last fight against British nationalism. They fought and won, and now it's our turn.

And the fight begins this Tuesday, at six o'clock, outside the Greater London Authority Building. There we can show the BNP that they have not won, and will not, not as long as we are around. They will not win in London. They will not win in our beautiful, diverse and oh-so-fucking-great London. They will not win in London because it is our city, and we will not let them.

Come fight with me.