Space invaders.

When I was a small child, Mum and Dad had a little Austin Ruby car. They loved it. Dad had trained as an aircraft fitter during the war, and now worked for a large diesel engine manufacturer. It was no problem for him to maintain the car and it gave us all real flexibility. I always sat in the back, of course. That meant I sometimes had to share the back seat with various of Mum and Dad’s friends who came on outings with us.

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What are you doing at the weekend?

It was a Summer Sunday morning in Brighton, our home city at the time. Soon I would need to get my head into gear for another long week, but before I did, I was looking forward to a peaceful day. We both had long commutes and needed some headspace. Maybe we’d go to a favourite garden for a wander. Or we could walk down to the seafront, mingle with the tourists and laugh at the gulls hovering overhead, waiting to steal a chip or a sandwich from the unwary. Before we had chance to decide, the phone rang.

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When no-one is watching…

Not so long ago, a world leader was seeking re-election and was in some difficulty with his party. Following his poor performance in a debate, his supporters and detractors were watching nervously for every little slip, every mistake. Each time he made another gaffe, the world’s media amplified it, picking it over seemingly for days. Eventually, he stepped aside. This may seem a long way from the more mundane performance demands we all face, but it set me thinking.

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The sensory challenges of festival time

It’s summer music festival time again. Here on the Isle of Wight we’ve had our own annual event which brings an additional 50,000+ people to the Island. We live in one of the ferry ports, and our road is on the turning circuit for the fleet of buses that carry incoming festival-goers to the site. In a way, I enjoy the festival feeling, but you’ll never find me there, and the reasons are mainly sensory.

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I’ve known for sure that I’m autistic since 2021, shortly before my 70th birthday. I had already spent over three years on reading, research and completing online questionnaires, so confirmation wasn’t a surprise. I was I fortunate to find a team of clinical psychologists who are careful to make the connection with lived reality while still working rigorously within the official diagnostic framework. They’re leaders in the field and many are autistic themselves.

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