Archie's Cardboard Castle

King Archie had a cardboard castle. It was pretty huge and made from empty packing boxes left over from moving house.
King Archie loved it. It had everything a little king could ask for.
Huge turrets.
A gatehouse.
Spyholes.
A comfy carpet.
There was even enough room for Prince Blue, the dog.
Day after day, King Archie and Prince Blue played in the castle, fighting off scary people like Big Chris and the cat from next door.
Archie was feeling very brave indeed.
One day, King Archie got up and went outside to his beloved castle but it was gone.
He was furious. Who did this? What evil person could have destroyed it?
King Archie sent spies out the length and breadth of the land and discovered, to his horror, that it was an invading army led by the poisonous Baron von Gunner.
King Archie and Prince Blue set out immediately to conquer the Baron and make him say sorry.
It was a long, hot, day and King Archie was glad of the sandwiches, little yoghurts, carrot sticks and fruity drinks his mummy had made.
Night time came and so did the cold. It was a good thing Prince Blue was there to keep King Archie warm.
As the sun rose next day, King Archie could see the distant Baron von Gunner spying on him. He climbed on his horse and rode furiously across to where he was hidden and surprised the Baron.
With the greatest, biggest, scariest ‘Boo,’ he could muster, Archie confronted the cowering Baron.
‘Why did you break down my castle?’ King Archie demanded. He had to admit the Baron looked pretty fierce but he wasn’t going to let on to anyone. He wanted answers.
Baron von Gunner looked sad. ‘I was jealous,’ he replied. ‘I didn’t have anyone to play with.’
‘Well,’ said King Archie, who was nothing if not a very generous sort, ‘as I have only just moved house, I’m a bit short of friends to play with myself yet. If you help me to rebuild my castle, we can play together.’
Baron von Gunner looked grateful because he knew King Archie could pack a mighty punch and happily agreed.
So King Archie and the resplendent Baron von Gunner rode back together. King Archie even shared his fruity drinks and sandwiches with the Baron. The horses shared the carrot sticks and Prince Blue led the way.
Baron von Gunner, it turned out, was a dab hand at building and made King Archie’s bedroom into a castle fit for a king.
They were friends and King Archie and Baron von Gunner had the happiest times together.
When Baron von Gunner finally had to leave for a short time, to fight in a dusty foreign war, King Archie knew he would always have a friend out there.

I have a new Mentor

I thought it might be worth sharing the email I wrote to Alex, my mentor for the coming academic year, my final one at university. We have been trying to work out a convenient time to meet before the new semester begins.

In his last email, Alex told me he had worked with a lot of people with Asperger's syndrome and decribed himself as having 'long brown hair and a beard'. This is most of my reply

I knew I had some extra breakfast shifts coming up but didn't realise it was as early as this week. I'll be working Friday, Sat, Sun, Mon and Tuesday breakfasts. Weekdays, my hours are 5.30am until 1.30pm. If we met Wednesday morning, I would bring my boyfriend as he would probably like to know I was going to be alright, which is kind but daft because I usually do cope, somewhere between really well and crisis, on my own. Wednesday, Thursday or Friday the following week are also good. I realise I should have looked in my diary first. Sorry to be messing you about. Makes me feel like a spambot.

From your self description, you sound like Jesus so if I look at your feet first, I'm only looking for sandals, ok?

I used to think people meant as colleagues when they said they worked with a lot of people with Asperger's but, to my disappointment, it has been as a helper, not an equal. I can tell by the way people talk they somehow consider me a little less than themselves, or a half wit, but it's actually quite the opposite. You see, if someone you chatted to by the office coffee machine made a joke, you'd at least acknowledge it, even if you didn't think it was all that funny.

Now, if I make a joke, most people who work with the 'disabled' in a caring capacity would not dare to laugh in case I was being serious and it upset me. I might also get a straight answer 'just in case' even though they actually knew it was a joke in the first place. So who is the half wit? Somebody, somewhere, decided that autistic people have little or no sense of humour and social pressure to conform to this idea refuses to acknowledge the blindingly obvious and respond appropriately. Like laugh, or smile, for instance.

It's probably a good idea to become acquainted a little before we meet. I can probably now assume you are a bloke, unless you are a weirdy, bearded lady and some kind of circus freak.