The cinema was back open this week and doing good business - with all the power restrictions, a lot of people are thinking twice about turning on their TVs. Plus the cinemas dropped their prices a ton during the crisis, meaning you can go for £2 and the place is almost always packed. We saw the harry potter film that was supposed to be out in the summer - it was surprisingly fun, even if the moments in the real world were sad.

On my way back from the cinema with Uncle Andy, we were approached by a man that asked us for the time.

"Sure," Andy said, taking it all in stride, "It's 9.15."

"Where you guys been then," the man asked. "I'm Delroy, by the way."

He shook our hands. It felt rude to say no.

"the cinema," we said. It was odd to be approached in the street but the guy was strangely disarming and I didn't feel too unsafe with Uncle Andy there.

"it's nice that we can still go to the cinema after all that's happened," the man said. "It's like they're trying to keep us happy."

"Who's they?" I asked.

"Well, you know," he said, his eyes focusing on something that wasn't there. "This world is an amazing thing. You know, science tells us that energy is in everything, and that we're aware, right?"

"Yeah..."

"So if we're made of energy and aware, and you know there are particles where if you separate them, no matter how far apart, they know what the other ones doing? There's this quantum field yeah? and that means that everything's connected, everything's aware. You get me?"

"I understand the words you're saying..." Andy said with a half-grin on his face. "I just don't understand what you're suggesting it all means. I mean, how does all this come together?"

The man looked insulted, as if somehow we were supposed to follow this stream of consciousness speech perfectly. I hung back and let Andy deal with it.

"It means that if everything's connected, the whole world and energy, yeah?" Delroy continued. "That means that there must be something more, right? That it all means something, that it's all part of a higher force."

Oh god, I though, religion. Andy smiled. he seemed to be enjoying this.

"So you're saying this is all for a reason?"

"Yeah man, definitely," Delroy said. "I mean - look at all the CCTVs and the shrinking computers whilst they grow in power. Biotech and genetics? They're controlling us man. They could have done something about this crisis, they've known for a long time it's coming. They just wanted to take away some of our rights and possessions -we were getting too much freedom and the had to stop it."

"So all this was planned?" Andy was struggling to avoid laughing.

"All of the leaders of the countries and companies are in on this," Delroy told us, whispering like it was some deadly secret, eyes serious and preaching. "They want us for our money and our work but they want to control us."

"Nice talking to you Delroy," Andy said, pulling on my arm. "We got to go now."

"Don't forget what I said!" Delroy called after us. "We're all connected! This isn't random - there's something going on bigger than us we've got to wake up to!"

We wandered home, not quite sure what to make of the experience.

I understand how Delroy feels - wouldn't it put us out of responsibility if this was one big conspiracy to destroy and control the world as we know it? If we know there was some vast secret group scheming so much that nothing we did mattered? It's both orwellian-style scary and strangely attractive. Why attractive? Because if some group is controlling our destiny we have no responsibility and so can put away our guilt over what's happened and not feel bad about looking out only for ourselves and no one else - it was the evil overlord's fault!

If the companies knew that the oil was running out, and so did the governments and they conspired to organise the crisis, to take away our rights, then we could give in to the despair - because if we're being controlled that much, there's no hope of individuality surviving - we're pawns in this massive game.

But that's not what's going on. I don't believe it. I don't believe the people in charge, even the bad ones, are perfect or evil enough to plot such a massive scheme - it's silly. While some of the bad stuff has come from oil people and politicians looking to profit or being greedy, it's not part of some vast worldwide conspiracy. It's simply a lot of greedy people ignoring the consequences to get rich in the short term. And these CEOs and stockbrokers and oil executives are the ones to have lost the most in the crisis.

Whilst that means there's no easy guilt-remover, it does mean that we as normal people have the power to do what the greedy rich people did not do: make a change. We should have done it earlier, before it was too late. We shouldn't have let those in power take too much when they didn't deserve it. They didn't do it because they were part of an evil masterplan. they did it because they could. They did it because we gave them the opportunity. In future, we need to not let them have the chance to ruin everything.

There's no great conspiracy. If you were in their position, you might get greedy too, if there weren't enough safeguards to stop you overstepping your boundaries. There's no great conspiracy but there's a lot we can do to prevent those people from grabbing too much for themselves from us.

-Mia




[author's note: week 23

another action item from Daily Kos about US food, for those interested in making a positive impact now: As featured in this diary the USDA are trying to legislate to water down Organic standards in America - meaning you wouldn't have to use organic intestines in sausages, or organic hops in beer. This is basically a way for organic food to be pretty much wiped out as a class of foods. There's some talk of it being prompted by the drugs agencies because they make money from unhealthy people but take that with a pinch of salt and read Mia's story for today on conspiracies! whatever the reasoning behind this, any of you guys in the states that care about food production would be well advised to sign the petition and try and stop this legislation.

The Delroy character actually exists, under a different name, in Bristol. I've talked to him a few times whilst coming home from my girlfriend's or a bar. He's very friendly and interesting, even if what he's saying doesn't quite add up.He's basically a preacher for David Icke, as weird as that sounds. It's strange, a little disturbing but mostly fascinatingly odd.

The people-powered motif is an important one, one that can help us try and avert this kind of crisis in the real world. Accountability from the voting public is probably the most important thing we can do to stop it. In recent times politics has been pushed to one side by many people as 'not my business'. This has allowed those who would take advantage of it to gain much more strength. We can't let that continue. As the people of the world, we need to hold the greedy people accountable and keep them in check otherwise the real crisis could end up worse.]

The return trip from Heathrow Airport with Uncle Andy was quiet and subdued but without incident. Greg put enough fuel in the boot to not need to stop and fill up, which avoided any service station unpleasantness - apparently a lot of them are getting really dodgy for crimes. We listened on the news in horror as they reported a huge uptick in murders near Cheltenham - I guess some of the things English Village were talking about. The prison rumour is picking up a lot of steam - government officials are going out of their way to deny it but rumours persist.

Uncle Andy was silent throughout, hardly responding. He looked incredibly tired and even went to sleep in the car with his coat for a pillow.

We got home safely and quickly - with so little traffic it's easy to make time.

Andy wouldn't talk to greg and mum - but as soon as we got home they almost pointedly ignored him anyway. Greg was totally at odds with Andy's 'liberal nature' and mum just didn't know what to say. They both went off to work. This continued, for about a week, with my Uncle all but silent, just eating, sleeping and reading spy novels stolen from dad's old collection.

Andy sat in the kitchen, making his way through the cake I'd baked the day before, when I came in from school. I got a piece of bread and was amazed when he started to talk. For five days he'd been like a mute.

"Still in school then?" His voice was husky and strained, nothing like it used to be.

"I just started my A-levels." I turned to him. "Uncle Andy, what happened to you out there? What's wrong? Was it the accident?"

He didn't reply for a second and then looked at me.

"No," he said, softly. He ran a finger along the cut above his eye. "I got this a couple of bruises and burns but the explosion was at the other side of the tanker, it's not too major."

"Then why?" I asked. "Why are you so quiet? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He looked at me, eyes that used to be filled with light and fun now totally serious.

"Maybe I have," he said. "Maybe I've seen the ghost of what the world used to be like."

He started to tell me about the things he'd seen in the weeks since the tanker accident, first in Yemen and then in Saudi Arabia.

"Yemen wasn't too bad," he said. "I was in the hospital and although people were upset and poor, they had always been upset and poor. This wasn't much different.

"Saudi got steadily worse." The words were all coming out in a rush now, all the things he'd seen and not been able to tell. "I saw riots everyday, looting, militia. Every few days another refinery would be hit. Anyone they caught was summarily executed, beheaded in the central square.

I didn't know what to say, just stood with the plate in one hand, listening to him.

"The news coming through from the region was worse." Now that he'd started, he didn't stop. "It was worse than what Iraq had been like before - the major powers like Iran had their hands in everything - most of the south of Iraq is part of Iran now, and the Kurds have their own war with the Turkish. Syria's keeping quiet, but everyone knows they're waiting for the chance to take the western part of Iraq."

"What about the oil, and the American troops?" I asked.

"Most of them are holed up in Baghdad," he said. "It's all they can do to keep the green zone. Keeping hold of the oil is like trying to keep water in a bucket with holes in it."

"But you were in Saudi Arabia!" I said, unable to understand the utter desolate look on his face. "I thought they were rich, and secure!"

"Mia," he said,changing his tone so as to catch my attention fully. "They were the ones that caused this crisis."

That bombshell hung in the air like the aftermath of a clap of thunder. I put the plate down.

"What?"

"The oil reserves ran out," he said with a shrug. "They've been overstating their reserve for years. There were always rumours in the company but it was never confirmed. One day, one of the fields started to dry up and they began using reserve instead, hoping to find a new source. They didn't."

"And the oil shock?" I asked. Andy spread his arms.

"They ran out of reserves," he said. "About half their production ground to a halt. The company decided not to let us go back in case we let the story out. By two weeks ago the chaos had gotten so severe it didn't matter anymore. Militia's clashed across the refineries, trying to control the export of what was left. No one had heard about the Royal family in weeks. Me and seven other guys from the company decided to get out. We paid one of the militias to take us to the Red Sea, and hitched a ride up the Suez canal into the mediterranean. There must have been three times as many people on the ferry as there should have been. Most of them were turned back as soon as we got to Greece. We had British and American passports so they let us fly back here."

He looked at me with hollow eyes.

"I had to shoot people, Mia." His eyes were moist with tears. "The militia tried to double cross us near the city border. They killed Frank and Bobby. I had to shoot them to get us away."

"My god," I said. I thought it was bad in Heathrow.

"I'm sorry," Andy said, standing up. "I shouldn't have told you all that. I just had to tell someone."

He got up and left the room, tears running down his worn face. I stared after him, utterly speechless. I'd never seen a man who'd been to hell and back before.

[author's note: week 20]

We got a call a few days ago. Uncle Andy, following his injury in the tanker incident all those weeks ago, has finally been allowed to leave the middle east. He arrives today, but in London Heathrow. Greg, who's been stockpiling his maximum diesel allowance each week now that he's making good money off his solar company, agreed that he'd drive us there.

It's the first time I've been in a car in 10 weeks. The car smells musty and the diesel engine takes a few gos to start. There's dead leaves strewn across the wheel arches of most of the cars along our street. After negotiating with a neighbour who's car was blocking our path (he didn't have any fuel, we had to let go of the handbrake and push), we set off.

The motion of the car felt really unnatural after so long away and I soon felt a little sick. I ignored mum and Greg's talking and sat back to look out the window.

Bristol is actually busier than it used to be, in a way. The pavements on either side of the road are packed with people walking to work, to shop and wherever else they go.

"There's still quite a few cars," I said, surprised at the number passing us on the road. Greg shrugged in the driver seat.

"People still need to get places," he said. "It's only £1.60 a litre. It's more expensive than it used to be but it's not so much people who need to travel can't do it."

"So why haven't you been using your car much then?" I asked him. I still hadn't worked him out. Sometime he seemed so Tory, whilst othertimes he was positively liberal in his approach.

"I don't want to waste money," he said. "If I can do it from home, I'd rather not have to spend 40 quid going to work."

"And all that diesel you bought?"

"It doesn't hurt to save it up," he said. "If prices rise again, the money I spent will be tiny. It's an investment."

We fell silent again as a fire engine's sirens shrieked towards us, heading to a stack of smoke rising over St. Paul's. Greg manoeuvred out of the way - avoiding the pedestrians being harder than avoiding the cars.

Another farmer's market was in full swing in Broadmead as we entered the main shopping district. It had grown since I last saw it, and another set of roads had been closed off to accompany the throngs off people queueing for locally made food. Security checkpoints at every entrance to the market were guarded pretty heavily by the blue shirted security forces that the government's been recruiting heavily for - every other advert now is an offer to join up the security forces and bolster the police.

"Brown's determined to legislate this crisis away, isn't he?" Greg muttered. "making all these new jobs in security for all the unemployed to stop the unemployed causing trouble... pretty clever."

He sounded impressed despite himself. Maybe what he's seen on the news about the US has made him appreciate us not being controlled by ultra conservatives. We drove on. The new developments of shops at the rear of Broadmead have stopped, the cranes flopping down sadly. They looked like tired birds. A couple of places the fences had been broken down and graffiti was all over this part of town.

Then on past the Tesco superstore - heavily guarded at the gates - and onto the motorway. There were a few cars but mostly just lorries, trucking down the first two lanes of the road. A fair few of their number seemed to have police escorts who eyed us nervously as we overtook.

A lot of buses too, packed full of people gawping at any cars that passed - a fair few forlorn faces stared out at me, bags all around them as they retreated where they were going. All the signs on the road had new additions at the bottom: Drive slower and save fuel. H. M. Government.

A lot of people seemed to be following the advice. Most of the outer two lanes were going less than 50. Greg shot past a lot of them with a grin on his face.

"Shouldn't you conserve fuel?" I asked, looking at the needle going past 80 on the speedometer.

"I haven't driven in weeks," he replied. "If I'm on the road I might as well enjoy myself. Besides, the faster we go the sooner we'll get to Uncle Andy."

Motorway driving hasn't changed much, despite all that. It's still very dull, with nothing to see but grass embankments and other bored drivers and passengers. A couple of rich boy racers in cars shot past us way too fast but none of the police escorts seemed to care. I think they were just glad to see their product safe to its destination. I plugged my earphones into my solar-charged phone and started listening to music, fading out from the boredom of the M4.

I was jolted out of it an hour later as we pulled off near reading and headed towards the airport. Things were very different here. Reading's always been a massive place for commuters moving into London every day and I've heard on BBC that a ton have lost their jobs. Smoke rose in several places from the city in the distance and placards littered the side of the road, cardboard taped to fences asking for help from passers by and God. As we turned the roundabout towards the airport junction, I saw something I never expect to see.

A checkpoint had been set up leading to the 4 terminals, complete with barbed wire and temporary hut. The shocking thing as we drew up to the barrier were the two gigantic tanks on either side of us, the soldiers watching us approach and join the queue to enter the airport with mistrust. After twenty minutes slow queueing - Greg cursing the wasted fuel every time we moved forward - we reached the barrier and a soldier leaned in to check our faces.

"ID cards and reason for being here," he said to Greg. They were all armed. greg handed over our ration cards, which were swiped and passed back to us.

"We're here to collect a relative," Mum leaned over and said. "He should have arrived a few hours ago."

The soldier eyed us dubiously then waved us through.

"You've all been charged £10 and six ration credits," he said. He put a hand down to stop our protests. "It's to stop people getting in who just want to sneak onto a plane. You're allowed a free meal whilst you're in the terminal, just show them these."

We got four tickets of entry and entered the compound. The army was everywhere. I shrank down in my seat to avoid the stares of the helmeted soldiers looking at us pass. We rose over a crest and into one of the car parks.

"My god," Mum said. Greg slowed down. Nearly all the car park, and the ones we could see beyond it, had been fenced away and within them lay scores of prefabricated buildings. Guards patrolled the gates. Inside, thousands of people in ragged clothes hugged the fence, tramped across the damp asphalt, looking completely miserable.

"What are they all doing there?" I said, horrified. A girl not much older than me stared at our car passing, her eyes wide and desperate.

"Illegal Immigrants," Greg said. "I heard they were shipping them out from here."

He accelerated past the makeshift prisons and into the terminal proper. I stared, not wanting to see what I was seeing. I felt sickened. Not because they looked that mistreated - I could see a table of people being served hot food, and a tv was on in one of the buildings with everyone clustered around it. I was sickened, mainly because I found myself unable to say that they shouldn't be sent home. I was horrified to find that I didn't entirely disagree.

Greg parked and we passed another checkpoint into Heathrow. There were a few businessmen looking harried and queues of poor immigrants being herded into various destination queues, arguing with the officials in many languages. possessions and coats were piled up everywhere around families with tired, forlorn expressions on their faces. There were no normal looking passengers, no one looking excited to be getting on a plane to go spend days in the sun or visiting some foreign city. The scene looked like an airport but different.

Most of the desks were closed and many were staffed by guards rather than chirpy hostesses. We filed past the queues and into the food court. Aside from a handful of cheaper looking restaurants, everything was closed. We sat in a pizza restaurant, jostling to sit down amidst a ton of depressed Africans demanding more food for their rations from a harrassed waitress with greasy hair.

We exchanged our coupons for an order whilst mum called uncle Andy. The pizzas were small and uninviting but the strong flavoured cheese and pepperoni reminded me of cheap fast food that made me part-nostalgic and part-disgusted. I wolfed it down anyway.

Uncle Andy appeared a few minutes later, pulling a airport trolley full of luggage. He'd aged so much. His once-brown hair was greying and burn scars and bandages lined the skin on one side of his neck. One of his eyebrows had a thick gash slowly healing, barely missing his eye. One leg was still bandaged and he limped as he walked. More than that, he just looked completely drained of the enthusiasm and exuberance I associated with my favourite relative.

He saw us and his eyes lit up with that familiar sparkle. Greg came forward and shook his hand and took the trolley, whilst mum leapt on her brother to give him a concerned hug. Then he looked at me and the tiredness lifted off his face.

"Hello kiddo," he said. "Fancy seeing you here."

I launched myself at him and he folded his arms around me in a bear hug. Then he straightened, looking around the restaurant complex at the hordes of hunched-over figures shuffling towards their exit. His eyes took it all in and looked full of many sadnesses. He smiled slightly and looked at us.

"I've had enough of it," he said, watching as the African family got pulled away by one of the guards and a social worker, screaming. "Let's get out of here."

I've never been so glad to leave a place.

-Mia





[Author's note: week 19. A much more prose based entry after yesterdays mega linkage. I wanted to show some more of the UK without getting too histrionic. Uncle Andy's reappearance gave me that opportunity. I don't agree with deportation but it's chillingly realistic. I'm still trying to carve a sense of tense but managed calm in Britain.


A bit disappointed with the last few days of coverage. Things are getting far too dark considering fuel hasn't changed in price much for a long time. It got to $6.50 and stabilised - similar to modern day european prices. Whilst there's definitely going to be chaos as a result (and chaos makes for better reading) I've felt things are getting too dark too quickly lately. It's conceivable that such results could happen, but surely not so fast. I'm going to keep my writing a little bit more slow-paced until I see some major event that could change things in my part of the UK - I certainly haven't seen it yet. There's still plenty of hope that with organisation everyone can come out of this bruised and poorer but with some sense of a normal life. A lot of major companies will crash and burn and a lot of people will go bankrupt. That's not the same as an apocalypse. Even at $6, it's not so expensive that food can't arrive or fuel is prohibitive. If it was over $10, then maybe. At the moment, most of what's causing the problems seems to be panic. We can get through this, as long as we are prepared to adapt.

As I said in some of the comments, I'd love to see what's happening in the US congress and Senate about this crisis. It's looking like shaky ground for Bush even without any oil crisis - with the bunglings in America I'd be amazed if there wasn't a motion to Impeach him by now. Whilst the administration aren't perfect, there's a few senators and congressmen/women who would have tried to pass motions to make this better - and would probably have got fed up of Bush's oil-company-induced vetos. So I'm offering a challenge to American writers of wwo: show me what you're government's doing. Let's see some political reaction to all this.

UPDATE:here's a great example.]

I went to a lecture on alternative energy today. There was a load of posters up on telegraph poles advertising it - some people here are starting to look for solutions and the university is taking the opportunity.

I decided to walk even through the drizzle, to have a look at the city. I tried to get an old tire for lead_tag's mission, but the garage was closed - no business I guess. I took my phone with me and took some snaps. I'm so glad Greg gave me that solar charger for it - it's my camera, music player, phone and potentially could be used for the internet if there's more blackouts. There's multi-functionality for you!

Here's a few things I saw on my walk.



Not a rare sight walking around the city these days. Bins full to overflowing, recycling that hasn't been collected, stuff you wouldn't normally expect to see being chucked away - someone decided this telly was using too much electricity?



All the way up Whiteladies Road is a constant stream of cars, all jostling for position to get fuel from the esso garage. A fair few people come back disappointed, although it seems better since rationing started.




This shop was an awesome and expensive TV and HiFi shop until a week ago. it's the only sign of looting I've seen in Bristol but it's still a shock to see nothing there anymore...



This garden shop,on the other hand, is doing really well. I bought my seeds and compost from here. The people are really nice and friendly - they seem to be really happy to have such a thriving business in the crisis! it's much cheaper buying seeds than the actual plant for a lot of things.



Told you I'd be productive - we don't have a garden in my house but with this pot, compost and seeds we'll have some home grown salad, at least! it only cost me £6 too! that's a single trip in the car!

There were less cars than normal but far more bikes and joggers. The downs is covered with sweaty runners - I suppose it is free! There's more religious nutcases on street corners though. I was walking along Woodland Road near the university and this crazy woman in a really tatty coat shoved a piece of paper in my hand and started jabbering at me about the end of the world! I mean, I know things are a bit iffy at the moment but I hope it doesn't come to that - I've barely started my life so I'm not going to give up so easily! She kept talking about how we should all give ourselves to God and embrace Armageddon.... *shudder* I think I prefer to make the best of the world we have now.

Although those kind of people are increasing, there's far less people trying to sell me stuff now. It used to be you'd only get fifteen paces before some bohemian dude with a clipboard would corner you and guilt trip you into signing up to give money to charity. We called them charity muggers - there's nothing wrong with charity, it's great - just don't force it on me on the street - it's not charity if you make me do it! So it's nice to see they aren't around although I do wonder who'll be charitable to us if things get worse...



The lecture was at the university. I have to admit I didn't understand a lot of it. It was about wind turbines and tidal power but there was a lot of maths. I went up to the professor from the university that did the talk afterwards. I asked him how he thought we could get through the crisis. He said that we'd have to build lots and lots of wind turbines. The ones they put up now can supply a lot of the power we need but we need to get building. He said only nuclear would be able to compete but that planning the building of the reactors takes so much longer than wind turbines. Apparently there's a place on the Isle of Man that makes a lot of the wind turbines - they're hiring tons more people in order to keep up with demand. One of the guys at the talk said the government was trying to install loads more as quickly as possible.

I headed home feeling a little overwhelmed but amazed that there were people that clever that were doing something productive about our problems.

A lot of houses around me are student lets and since the term ended they've been empty - normally there's a fair few staying over the summer but they all seem to have gone home - it's cheaper to live with mum I guess!

It was nice to have a walk but it's strange to see how different things have got. Everywhere is a lot more subdued. I guess the rain doesn't help. In the sun everyone's not too unhappy not being able to drive but when it rains it gets pretty miserable!

What's going on in everyone else's town?

-Mia

[author's note - week 11, thursday.

The lecture Mia 'went to' was actually one of my physics lectures in uni. The awesome Professor John Hannay (a really important member of the physics department where i study) does a lecture course called 'Air Water Fire Earth' about how the wind, tides, weather and sun combine to give us the world we live in. His later lectures, like the one in the picture, cover a lot about how in particular wind and tidal turbines work. It's very complicated and involves a lot of thermodynamics but is absolutely fascinating. After attending yesterday's lecture on turbines I couldn't resist snapping a picture and putting it into the story - it's odd how coincidences like this happen.

incidentally, cid_yama's latest entry is quite possibly the best I've seen on wwo so far. I wish he allowed comments for me to tell him how much I respect what he's been doing.]

Things seem to be calming down a bit here. There's been some trouble in the poorer areas of Bristol like St Pauls and Montpellier, but mostly people are hanging together. The hifi shops and fast food outlets are still going out of business but people seem to have absorbed some of the shock and started continuing their lives at this new level of living.

it's similar to that whichwwo_baltpiker, finding ulysses and mtalon_wwo are saying here: the initial panic has stopped and people are getting organised. Here, the new Brown government's really kicking on and getting things done towards organising Britain. Greg next door sniffed when I told him that. He said Brown's just trying to start his legacy.

still, I think it's like fabulareine says. Why can't this be a good thing, in the end? I mean, you hear so much bad stuff, but eventually this is gonna mean the end of global warming, the end of all those stiffs that work 12 hour jobs in meaningless offices shuffling paper - my kind of nightmare! I'm 16 next week and I'll have to start picking my choices for A-levels, assuming the college is open next year. What I choose will decide what career I go into. So I ask anyone reading, what careers should I think about? With the world changing so much and all the traditional money-making jobs disappearing, how can I best plan for my life? I don't know what I want to do but I want to be free, not attached to some vast company where no-one knows my name.

As a teenager emerging into this new world, what are my options? How can I be productive?

-Mia

[author's note: week 11, Monday.]

turns out I couldn't phone dad on skype. We had a blackout Saturday like this one in London. Was a little frustrating to be without the internet, just as I'd started getting interested in finding out just what was going on with this oil crisis.

Greg from next door came around to eat on our camping stove. He works in electronics and he gave us a couple of those wind-up torches. We played monopoly for a bit but David went off in a strop when he lost. Mum blushes when she talks to Greg. I think she likes him. I'm not sure whether that makes me angry or not.

The gig I was going to see next month for my 16th birthday has been cancelled. Jonah Matranga said he couldn't afford the air fare to get out to the UK. I was really looking forward to that.

We had some bad news on Monday. Uncle Andy works on a tanker transporting oil from the middle east to Portsmouth. His ship left Dubai a week ago and was heading back to the UK. Whilst they passed Yemen, a small boat came up to the side of the tanker and exploded. No one's claimed responsibility but a lot of people's thoughts are on Al Quaeda. The picture of the tanker with tons of oil and fire pouring out of it looks like something out of that terrible Kevin Costner movie. Waterworld? I hope it doesn't sink. Just think of all the animals around there.

We heard about it on the news, of course - we just didn't think it would be Andy's ship until mum got the call. He's ok - they got everyone off the ship pretty quick - but he's in some terrible hospital and doesn't know when he'll be back. Mum stayed out at Greg's that night.

I went on the computer to phone dad again but he wasn't online. I keep getting worried about staying in Bristol - the papers keep talking about all the burglaries and car thefts increasing. I want to go see dad in Wales - there's no one around for miles and there's plenty of food. A lot of this online stuff is pretty pessimistic - for all mum's stockpiling of rice and toilet paper, will we be able to hold up if everything goes crazy?




[writer's note: week 8, Wednesday

I originally intended to have the tanker captured but figured this would be impractical and unlikely. Instead I based my incident around this one in 2002.

Of course, though I don't want to ruin the perspective in my story by overly analysing something Mia wouldn't fully grasp, this incident could have major implications for oil and share prices and as the ship was carrying gasoline to the UK, prices here can expect to rise as a major proportion of incoming supply is removed.

(This is a fictional account from the fantastic alternative reality game World Without Oil join in! )]

it's thing's like this that make me glad I'm not elsewhere. Our schoolbus didn't come today. we went to the downs instead and lay in the sun. I can remember only one other day when school was cancelled - a snow day, which hardly ever happens here. Jacob told me at the bus stop that his dad says there'll be plenty more days like this. It's nice to not have school but it makes me feel wierd, like there's something not quite right.

The farmer's market on whiteladies road was manic. It's usually pretty nice, a few stalls with fresh veg and pies, that kind of thing, but it's always been a bit too expensive for me and mum. today, there must have been ten times the amount of people swarming over the produce - a couple of the stalls were already sold out at 11. I wanted to buy one of the organic pies but mum didn't give me any pocket money this week. She looked really guilty when she said it.

A couple of people got into a fight as I was walking through the market. One guy had parked his range rover on the street next to the market and was piling in a load of food. One of the bearded guys handing out leaflets about the environment started having a right go at him.

"What are you doing with that hulking great thing?" the bearded man said, pointing at the range rover. The driver shrugged. He looked pretty rich.

"Driving to get some food?" he replied. I moved aroudn a stall to watch. "What's it look like?"

"There's a fuel crisis on!" the bearded man said. A couple of the other people turned round and agreed with him. "You're betraying everything about the market - don't you understand about food miles?"

"to hell with that," the man said. "I've got the money, I've got the car. I'll drive if I damn well want too."

The stall members said they wouldn't sell to the driver and he punched the bearded man. One of the tables was knocked to the ground. I walked away then.

A ton of people have put signs selling their cars. Seems like half the cars on my street have 'To sell: O.N.O.' on them. My brother asked why all the signs said 'Oh no' on them! My mum said it meant or negotiable offer, but that it might as well mean oh no with the fuel crisis the way it was.

I decided seeing as there wasn't school and day telly is boring that I'd go online and find out just what this 'oil crisis' was. I mean, I've been hearing about it everywhere but I don't really get it. We've always had oil, what's different now?

the first thing I come across is this blog about queues for fuel. I sorta remember the lorry driver's strike ages ago back when dad was around and had a car. Everywhere just kinda shut down. Is it going to get that bad again? The bbc site said that the lorry drivers were thinking about strikes again and that many peopel were stocking up on food already - mum bought loads of cans and sacks of rice and pasta, as well as gas for the camping stove. I thought she was crazy, but i'm beginning to change my mind.

I thought about phoning dad up. Mum doesn't like me doing it. He lives on a farm in Wales with his new wife Emma and mum gets angry whenever we mention them. I still want to talk to him though - he's better at explaining things than mum. Maybe I'll call him tomorrow. I'd like to see him. He'll make me feel safer.



[author's note: friday, week 7]

The first time I noticed something had changed was on a shopping trip.Mum doesn't have a car, so I didn't take much more than a brief glance at the oil prices. If someone asked me, I would have thought it was unlikely that Sainsburys would be the first sign of the apocalypse but there it was. A bare shelf where the bananas had been and a sign: out of stock.

I thought nothing of it. I didn’t like bananas much anyway. I crossed it off my mother’s list and took a pair of mangoes instead. I put the mangoes back when I saw the price tag. Mum would kill me if I spent six pounds on two fruit. A woman behind me in the queue stopped me taking plastic bags and gave me one of her cotton ones instead to pack my shopping in.

"They might start charging for the plastic ones soon love," she told me. "The oil, you know."

I nodded but didn't really get it. How come petrol prices mean I have to pay for my shopping bags? I thanked her for the cotton bag and headed home.

Walking back up Whiteladies Road there were distinctly fewer cars on the road than there had been a few weeks ago. The ageing double-decker buses creaking up the hill were packed and I actually hadto wait for the second one to come before I could cram myself into thestanding space for the journey home. The bus driver charged me £3 - itwas £2.20 a week ago.

My brother wanted to go see a film at the mall in Cribbs Causeway when I got back. I don't think I've seen mum look so worried since dad left. She took us into the kitchen and made us sit down.

"It's going to be a bit tricky for a while," she said. She looked at me more than David. He looked baffled and pouted when she said we couldn't go to the cinema. He stormed out. Mum looked at me with tired eyes.

"Mia," she said, telling that I was annoyed at this withdrawal of fun as well, "this is really important.Let your brother know that, ok?"

"But why?" I said. "It's just the cinema. we always go."

"We're running out of money," Mum said. "This oil crisis is only going to get worse pet. I need to make sure we have enough to eat later in the month. You understand, right?"

I didn't, not yet. It would be weeks before the new reality we found ourselves in would truly hit home.

[author's note: monday, week 6]