Where Are We?

So today’s blog is going to ask the all important question where are we on TV? 

And by being on TV I don’t mean in a bit part role, or just in a few scenes but as the main character or part of an ensemble cast. 


Because whilst we have A Typical which isn’t that great to be honest why are we at the fore front of such TV shows? 

My issue with A Typical was the following. The main actor isn’t autistic (isn’t that always the way?) but they consulted experts (yeah that’s the way to do it), also the main character is all over the place with his autistic traits. So we are not clear as to which end of the spectrum he’s actually on. 

But look I am not here to digest this show. 

I am here to put the case for autistic people to be considered and then cast in roles where we are the main character. 

When will we ever see an autistic detective? Or an autistic comedy? 


I am a fan of a show called Unforgotten, a character in the last season to air in Australia had an autistic character (he played the son), my issue with him was this. One he was placed in a stereotypical role (he worked with computer data), that’s not the case with everyone, he has some dialogue with the main detective where he says “You may have noticed that my brain is wired differently” that’s not an insult in any way! He keeps himself to himself, he’s socially awkward etc. Now whilst he wasn’t part of the story line (his mum was), he had minimal scenes and wasn’t really used in fact he was under used. and why didn’t we get more of an insight into his life?

Anyway the point of this blog post is to illustrate the fact that we are more than just being a bit part in something. 

Why don’t writers when coming up with ideas for TV shows, think about being more diverse and show autistic people in a better light? 

I am brimming with ideas and if any TV production company’s are interested then please get in touch with me. I’d only be too happy to help out. 

I for the time being don’t understand why we are being marginalised and placed at the back or with A typical why can’t they get it right?

Until then I guess we’ll just have to put up with where we are until a change can take place. 




Saturday is the beginning of the weekend. It’s that day after Friday night, where you’ve let your hair down at a bar after work with work colleagues or friends. It all started at 5 when you left work, sober and able to make decisions. But come 9pm that’s all gone out of the window and your now feeling free from the effects of the huge volume of booze that you’ve consumed, and that pizza that you chose 2 hours ago isn’t sitting as well you thought it would inside your stomach. 

But Saturday is the beginning of the weekend, it’s one day of two where (in most cases) you don’t have to work and the day is pretty much your own. 

You can potter about inside your home, sit in the garden reading a book, or listening to a podcast, or just enjoy the early morning sun. 

Late afternoon soon comes around and you greet it and continue doing activites that are quiet and worthy of your vaulable time. 

But what if something or someone was to come into that mix and invite themselves along with their wife and two other kids for dinner and to watch the royal wedding without thinking that it may even be an issue, what if your entire peaceful quiet Saturday night was interupted like that? What then?

Well you’d reel back in horror wouldn’t you?

And that is exactly what I did, my Saturday night was to be spent in front of the latest offering from Netflix, not watching 2 hours of a royal wedding (two TV’s were on) don’t ask, just don’t ask. 


Both quite loud TV’s volume wise! The same show but in different rooms. 

So my quiet, relaxing Saturday night was bought down to having two kids under 6 and two other adults both watching the bloody royal wedding, whilst I was suffering for those 4 hours. 

I nearly but not quite had a meltdown, my routine was interupted, I detest noise of any kind, I hate how people have that ability to just invite themselves without a care in the world of how it may have effected others, I didn’t sleep that night, my mind was racing, too much of everything was piled on top of me and my mind couldn’t stop racing at a million miles per hour. 


I feared that I was alone in thinking this, but alas I had an ally so I wasn’t alone in my thought process.

I for one never want to live through such a hetic night again. If that’s what you want to do then at least have the decency to give us some notice before your family decends on us like that. I should point out that they had only come to deliver a bed for my nephew and then they were going to leave. This off course didn’t occur. 

For now I am doing ok, having worked out what I needed to do in order to calm myself down, it was a close call and one that I never want to find myself in ever again. 



Autistic Attack

So once again I find myself commenting on something that appeared in the news about a week ago and once again I find myself thinking about the best way or should I say positive way to respond to it. 

So for the record 3 boys (teens) have subsequently been arrested since this story broke. I am not here to pass judgement on their actions. 

I am however here to delve deeper into the aftermarth of the event and the fact that this boy (the one who was attacked with spanners) is coping and learning to process what has happened to him.


I won’t be naming the boy that got attacked here either.

Ok so this boy thought that he was doing the right thing by sticking up for his friend by telling those other boys who were bullying his mate to stop. Then then subsequently lured him to a school and outside they viscously attacked him with spanners. 

I wonder how in the aftermarth of this, do we think that his mental health would be suffering and at risk and what measures are being taken to address and hopefully his actions and those of the boys will be explained to the boy in a way that he understands. 

I gather from seeing his mother appearing on a few TV shows, that she’s very clued up and will know the right course of action to take. 

Speaking from experience I can say that I didnt recieve such support and wonder if the school that he attends will be providing counselling or will that be a decision made by his mum?

Upon reflection I think that I would take the same course of action as this boy did, without first taking into consideration the possible consequences of my actions. I would think that I too was doing the right thing. It would only be afterwards that I would have time to reflect and breakdown inside my mind what would be the more appropirate course of action to take. 

The mother in all this has stated that 

“I do feel concerned about these boys … we need to understand why young people would do something like this,” she said.

And I totally agree with her on this, it’s refreshing that despite her son being attacked, she can still see both sides of the story and set out to evaluate the situation with such a measured response. 

“Autistic people are the third biggest minority group in the world … the community has to start accepting them in their schools and workplaces,” 

I am going to leave that there and let that sink in. I would like to end this blog post by saying that I appauld the mother and her rational response to this unprovoked unnesscary attack, two I hope her son is able to recieve mental health treatment if he needs it and three I hope that we don’t see and I don’t have to view on the news another attack like this. 




Too Close For Comfort

So I thought long and hard about writing about this, especially seeing as it only happened a few days ago, but I am not here to pass judgment on the family or the granddad in particular but I want to address the aftermath effects and especially the effect that it has had on me. 

Not to go too deeply into the story that has dominated the press, but a family of 5 were shot and killed at a property in the Margaret River. 

At first I wasn’t so concerned with this story and that’s not me being disrespectful or anything but when something like that happens you have to ask yourself what could you have done and how does it affect me? It didn’t at that point. It was a senseless tragedy and a tragic loss. 

Then the journalists began digging and on a Facebook group for autism people that I am a member of, a person commented that the children that had been shot by their granddad were in fact autistic. Now my ears pricked up and I began to search the net for some answers.

It does indeed appear that the mother was in fact home schooling all four of her autistic children. 

A wave of crashing emotions washed over me ranging from tears to anger. I then hoped that this wouldn’t be the main reason to cover the story, it’s about her and her kids being shot by their granddad for unknown reasons (he took his own life), my point is that we should place the autism to one side, it shouldn’t be the thing that is highlighted. It’s the terrible loss of those innocent lives, as they all lay in their beds asleep.

Whatever the granddad’s motivation was (and we’ll probably never know), we should maybe turn our focus on the mother. Who singlehandedly was home schooling four autistic children. That in my book deserves to be recognised. How she managed to home school those four children who were probably on various parts of the autism spectrum is where we should be placing our attention on. It’s that she day in and day out worked to provide those children with the one to one schooling that she felt that they needed. 

Since this story broke I have been unable to think of anything else. It consumes my mind. I have actually asked that no one mentions and I also refuse to read any more stories on this, as it triggers my emotions and my anger. 

I hope that we never see a tragedy like this in Australia and especially in WA ever again. 

May those lost rest in peace. 


A Room with a View

When I begin to write a blog post, I take my quill in one hand and then dip it into the pot of black ink and then I begin scribbling away, creating a masterpiece of writing which undoubtedly will win a noble peace prize for literature.


Then I wake up from my dream and laugh a hollow laugh. And then I wipe the sleep from my eyes and go and make my porridge and cup of hot steaming tea.

Where I sit in my room and construct my witty, informative, carefully worded, constructed, prose I can see and hear things that are occuring in other’s people’s back gardens.

Only yesterday I was privvy to a neighbours conversation that they were conducting on their mobile phone, this person thought that they were being quiet, but in reality I could hear every single word that they were saying.


It also happens when I am out and about (very rare) that I can easily listen into other people’s conversations and absorb what they are saying.

Only recently I was on a train. Entering a train it’s like paying to watch a live theatre performance, the players are amateurs, but the performances are strong, funny, emotional, surprising, and above all entertaining.

The first set of characters to take centre stage are a mother and daughter. What there story is about is unclear at the moment. Is it a daughter who resents her mother? Is the mother one of those overprotective mothers who is pushing her daughter into becoming famous? It’s not until they all sit down that the play begins and I can sit back and enjoy today’s performance.

It turns out that once the mother’s phone comes out that it all becomes clear, crying she is recalling her dilema to her sister, she asks her sister Dawn, to go around and collect all of their clothes and then once they are safe and sound, they’ll message Dawn with the address, where she’ll be staying. It transpires that she hasn’t paid the rent on their rental property for the past four months, she’d tried to hold them off the rental people, but they have since began legal action. It turns out that when Sam (Dawn’s brother finds out) he won’t be happy.


Once they reach there stop, they disembark and we are now going to be entertained by a middle aged man and a mobile phone. Middle aged, sits down, adjusts his glasses on his face and checks that he does indeed have an unfortunate haircut and squeeky shoes.

It doesn’t take long for this play to begin. Middle aged phone rings. He answers it he then says abliet to loudly “Oh my god” Oh now I am intruiged.

He then says “It read “Hello sweetheart, it’s me. I love you so much and I miss you.”

Apparently this particular text message was sent by middle aged earlier on in the day to the woman on the other end’s second mobile phone (she bought this for this affair), but she didn’t get it to it in time and when her husband came out of the shower, he hears a constant pinging noise and when he followed it he found the mobile and now he’s at home demanding to know who “he” is whilst he’s watching the kids.

She’s in a payphone wanting answers. Middle aged tells her to tell him (her hubby) that it was a wrong number, and that she should stick to that story.

She and him then wonder if text messages can be traced? None of them know and as I get off at my stop I don’t find out the answer.

So there you have it, that’s how I observe people and their behaviours when I am out and about.



After a Google search you can trace a text message but you need an app apparently


The Life of a Blogger

“Writing a blog is a solitary affair. We bloggers spend much of our time hunched over our laptops hands poised to begin typing out the new blog of the week, other’s spend it sat outside with a quill in one hand, the black ink ready to make contact with the virginal white paper, others sit outside cafe sipping their lattes in between giving each letter of each sentence an admiring acknowledgement. Like proud parents of a new-born. “

Other writers like myself can’t face the prospect of writing anything before noon! We spend our days not communicating with others, we read a loud of latest article, then we either cry and rock back and forth in a chair and hit the delete button because what we have written is utter crap and we seek solace at Dan Murphy’s or we beam and pat ourselves on the back and marvel at just how bloody marvellous we are when it comes to creating entertaining, thought-provoking blog content. 

If they were to make a crime drama based on the life of a writer it would read like this. 

Inspector Morse would say “Lewis, take a look. This man’s hardly ever spoken. He must be a writer; it’s our first clue.”


“But” Lewis would stammer “Just because he’s under-used his vocal cords doesn’t mean that he has to be a writer does it? He could have been a monk who has taken a vow of silence.”

“A monk?” Morse would scoff. “Have you not seen the small table filled with empty bottles of bourbon and the bucket filled with tears and the bin overflowing with fingernails and the endless cups of tea?” 

Lewis would blush and say “And the report which he downloaded showing how many times he’s hit the delete button on this week’s blog post.” 

And with that Morse would jump into his jag and drive around the Oxfordshire lanes, seeking refuge in a pub where he would order a Ploughman’s lunch and a pint. 


The point (and I think that I have made it is) that when writing a blog post, you need peace and quiet, you need a room in which you can think and stare down at what you are piecing together so that other’s will find your work both interesting and engaging. 

Other bloggers no doubt who no doubt enter their study at 9 am after bathing, eating breakfast and reading the newspaper. By 9.05 am they are sitting at their desks happily tapping away at their word processors writing their current article. By 11 am they break for a coffee or a tea and a biscuit. At 11.15 am they resume work high fiving themselves at our wonderful the article they are currently writing. They don’t make grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. The only sound that can be heard issuing from behind their closed-door is the clicking of keys as the blog post takes shape. 

At 1 pm they stop work and break for lunch making sure that they stretch their legs as they make their way into the kitchen to rustle up something yummy for them to consume. Side note: they have excellent digestion. 

They also sleep well and enjoy a busy social life in the afternoons and evenings. 

Me I am at the opposite end of that scale. I can stare at a blank word document until blood begins appearing until I have an idea. Which is why I wrote this Monday’s blog post. 


I do not start my day at 9am sitting at my desk. no it’s more like 11am when I begin. Because fear and dread and other things occupy my mind and I want to put of writing a blog post for as long as I possibly can!

So I hope that I can explained the difference between me and other bloggers. Until 11am on Friday ciao!



Believe it or not this is the third draft of this blog post. The first two drafts, have successfully been rescued by a police after they stormed in and took them to safety, they are now recovering in a safe place, having been given a blanket a cup of tea and some biscuits, but not before being interviewed about their ordeal. 


So I am now at the mercy of this third draft hoping and praying that it too doesn’t want to notify the police that it is being held against its will. 

The first article from memory was going to be about that good old standby the ‘List’ article. You know the type my top 50 ways to combat (insert issue) or 5 ways I have fun in the winter. All I know was that the cliché count as well as the pun count was high and I am not shocked at it wanting nothing more to do with me.

The second article was the why-oh-why piece about employment (I have written many, many articles on this subject) but yet again I found myself drawn to it. It was trying to workout where the blame lay with regards to employment, was it me? Was it the fault of the DES providers? Was it down to the government? Was it in fact a combination of all three? Why it asked and continues to ask does no employer want to employ me? 


It banged on that despite my endless searching, I was getting more rejection emails (the generic kind). They start with Dear (INSERT NAME) thanks for applying for the role of (insert role) but unfortunately blah, blah, blah. The usual. But it ended by asking why there is a high rate of unemployed autistic people?

Anyway now this third draft isn’t being co-operative! I simply cannot get an article out of it, however hard I rack my brain nothing wants to be written on the page!

It’s at times like this that I wish I could text Janine Ripper and get her to come to lunch with me at the Burns Beach Cafe (No Chorizo and Chips and toast for us this time!) and get her valued input. But she’s busy at work. So that dream will take a rain check. 

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Until next time, when hopefully I will have something worth saying! 

Have a great weekend y’all