My farewell to three members of our Sarries Family

Chris Wyles, Schalk Brits, Nathan Earle (and our trophy!)

I want to talk today about 3 special men who all played headline roles in our recent title winning match - a brace of tries for Chris Wyles, a last minute victory-sealing score for Nathan Earle, and, um, well, a yellow card for Schalk Brits!! (I think you were jinxed by Ali Eykyn on the BT commentary with that one!) 

Classy bloke that Wayne Barnes!

But this piece isn't about the memorable tries, obscenely good offloads or magnificent tackles, it's about the three individuals and the positive impact they have had on my life over the past few years.

The thing that makes Saracens so special is the values the club adheres to: Discipline, Honesty, Work Rate, Humility – I love the concept of these values so much that I had the words engraved on a necklace last Christmas! But one that’s missing from the list is a value that these three guys have in spades – generosity of spirit.

Most, if not all, of the team are kind, genuine, intelligent guys, but not all of them are able to be generous with their time and energy; but these three have always (to me at least) been wonderfully warm and welcoming, offering me far more than I expected and leaving me with memories that I shall long treasure.

Thanks for the memories guys, savour this one for a long time!

Chris Wyles is a rarity in this world - an American who is wonderfully humble, supremely talented and a true gentleman; the kind of guy who is passionate without being in your face, his enthusiasm for his work being evident in his actions as well as his words.

Last home game of the season 2016; meet the players!

I missed the initial creation of the Wolfpack lager brand, by the time I started attending matches at Allianz Park the bus was an established feature of the ground, but it is evident that a lot of hard work and commitment went into building something really worthwhile, that Chris and Alistair didn’t just do the whole thing on the fly and expect others to support it just because it was their project.

I love that the club seems so invested in ensuring our guys have future careers after they (have to) retire from the beautiful game; match days now involve a visit to Brad’s “Tiki Tonga Coffee” stand next to the Wolfpack bus, seeing Jamie’s “Carter and George” doing a pop up physio clinic on the plaza across from Mike Ellery’s new cocktail company “Raw Spirit” – although I’m not quite sure where in the ground would be best to put Ben Spencer and Henry Taylor’s brilliant “99 Sap Designs” furniture business . . . . 

I have a lot of wonderful memories from Chris Wyles' time at Sarries, most related to his huge enthusiasm for the game and genuine friendliness - from seeing him give away a full pint of Wolfpack to someone who said they were about to go buy one to watching him let fans try on his latest medal at Twickenham just a few weeks ago.

But I think the one moment that stands out more than any other is watching him make his speech on top of the bus after the Bath game a few weeks before season end, it was his leaving do being done on his terms: beer and mates in glorious sunshine! His words made me well up as I listened and I felt so proud to have been even a small part of a journey that clearly meant so much to him.

Mr Wolfpack giving his farewell speech!

Seeing him later I asked him to sign the t-shirt I'd bought at the Talen Stadium in Philadelphia, I've never really got that into getting players to sign things (outside of my 30 challenge scrapbook) but I wanted my favourite memento of that weekend in the USA to be signed by our very own Captain America, the memory of him wandering JFK departures looking for a burrito always brings a smile to my face!

My only signed piece of clothing to date!

Of course thinking of that evening in the airport brings to mind the truly joyous memory of seeing the effervescent Schalk Brits desperately trying to give away McDonald's fries before boarding the plane – despite being told by the airline staff that he could take them on board with him!

I think by now that a lot of people have heard Schalk's tale of why he interacts so passionately with fans, the disappointment he suffered as a young boy staying with him into his professional career leading to the promise to never let one of his fans down like that.

Introducing my sister to the smiliest man in town!

To me, the fact that he remains so committed to this concept is wonderful. He greets people with such warmth and excitement that it feels, for a moment, that you're his best friend and he's so happy to see you. I don't know if he ever remembers me from one meeting to the next, I think in the moment he remembers my face and things I've said before/places I've talked to him, but I doubt that asked an hour later he would be able to recall my name or anything particular about me.

And thats okay! He's a professional athlete (retired) who has meet thousands of people over the course of his career, all of whom wanted something from him (time, conversation, a photo, a favour) and he can't possibly be expected to retain all of that - if I had a pound for every time a player or staff member had called me "mate", “love” or "darling" I'd be able to afford one of the posh seats at Allianz Park!

And yet Schalla still gives you this incredible feeling of specialness when his eyes light up and that wonderful smile bursts out, a moment when you really feel like he's happy to see you, wants to talk to you. 

I've got so many brilliant memories thanks to Schalk Brits and his amazing personality; hugs and smiles galore, the Curry and Chat goodbye event, the wonderful photograph taken on my 30th birthday of him giving me a hug outside the Foundation takeover of Nandos, his signature underneath said photo in my scrapbook when he complained that my caption said "smiliest guy in rugby" when in his opinion it should have been "sexiest"!

A 30th Birthday a girl can only dream of!

But I think my all-time favourite memory has to be the one that is unique to me, that moment in JFK departures seeing Schalla’s eyes light up as he recognised me (as a Sarries fan that is), getting to hear the guys moan about how ling the McDonalds queue was and how much time security took made them so much more relatable to me! 

As a non-sporting doing person I‘ve struggled at times to relate to the players beyond my basic understanding of coaching, training and team psychology (thanks Dad!) so getting to see some of my favourite people in the most normal of situations, reacting exactly as I do was brilliant!

I didn't ever get to know Nathan Earle as well as the other two, and I regret that as I have met the compassionate caring person lurking beneath that easy smile and sprinter pace! I do have a lovely picture with him however that was taken on my 30th birthday inside the Nandos Takeover! 

Nandos Takeover 2017

Obviously when a player retires from the sport (as the other two gentlemen talked about in this post are) the celebrations and discussions around the person’s time at the club very different to when a player is leaving for a rival as a strategic career move.

It’s not the first time we’ve had a player leave us for another club, Ashy departed for Toulon last summer and had a song and dance quite literally made about it (some of Bazz’s finest work!) and yet Nathan seems to have been rather pushed to one side and forgotten about during the last few weeks of the season as all the attention was laser focussed on Schalla and Chris, and that just seems a tad unfair to me.

After the Bedford Blues match pre-season 2017 

Yes, he hasn’t given as many years’ service to Saracens as the retirees but Nathan has still been a fantastic team player and a brilliant ambassador to the club; his move is not a calculated ploy for more money or fame as far as I can tell but a necessary change in order to grow as a player and to improve his chances of making the RWC2019 squad – a dream that surely must be understood to trump all else at this stage of the World Cup cycle and his own career?

Representing your country at the World Cup must always be the pinnacle a player aspires to, above all accolades and trophies won at club level – domestic or European. The honour of that jersey, that cap, that call up is more than most of us could ever truly understand; I don’t claim to fully get it myself as I am not a professional athlete, I can only try to relate the concept to my own life and career and think what it would mean to me to be chosen above all others to fight for the chance to be called the best in the world.

And that’s one of the many reasons that I will not now, nor ever, begrudge a player moving clubs to further their chances of international success. The choice Nathan has made can’t have been easy for him but he is doing it because it needs to be done, Sarries are a fantastic club but they can’t offer him the opportunities he needs to get on Eddie Jones’ speed dial list.

Even in an uncapped Baabaas game, its a huge honour to wear the Rose!

It was back in March when I encountered the best side of Nathan; I was (ironically for this post) at the Schalk Brits testimonial dinner and I'd had an absolutely awful time for the first part of the evening - the venue was not remotely autistic friendly (high ceiling, all metal and wood, dim lighting with red spotlights etc!) and I was an individual on a table full of people I didn't know, with my back to the stage with not a clue what was going to be happening and feeling incredibly unsettled!

Cue the ‘wobbling on the edge of meltdown’ that led to me hiding out in the corridor outside the main hall, pacing back and forth muttering to myself trying to get a grip on my spiralling panic. I had been back and forth to the corridor a few times during the evening, managing to stay in my seat for the starter and main course (whilst probably getting through more than my fair share of the white wine on the table!) but had bailed to my refuge again before the dessert came round, once again fleeing the bizarre and confusing experience of a sit down dinner where people where wandering about all over the place holding conversations standing between people who were seated at tables eating!

The corridor wasn’t much better in terms of the sensory experience as it had high traffic levels due to being the only access route to the ladies, gents, stairs and lift! Most people had walked straight by me, a few had tried to ask if I was only but they were strangers to me so I had defaulted to my "I'm fine" response and they quickly moved away, probably relieved. 

Nathan spotted me as he was leaving the event and came over to speak to me directly, I don’t know if he recognised me then as someone he’d seen before at games, or even remembered me from being at the England v Baabaas match he’d played in at Twickenham last summer (we’d called him, Nick and Wiggy over for a group ‘Sarries’ photo after the match) but his concern for me was evident straight away.

His concern for me was clear as he asked if I was okay and if there was anything I needed that would help. At this point my mind had been tumbling through the void, free-falling back into that awful place I was in after the final in Edinburgh, but hearing such genuine concern for me from a player I admired allowed me to focus my mind back to "rugby mode" pulling on all the hard-earned experience of away games and losses to drag to the forefront my ability to get control of my panic and cope.

That simple act of direct kindness was so vital in enabling me to rescue my evening, the fact that he so easily accepted my response when I told him I was struggling because of being autistic and how the venue was affecting me. That short conversation left me able to finish up with a joke about needing some more wine and a tentative smile that I was able to turn into a real one before the event was over.

But more than just the kindness of that night, when I saw him at Allianz a few weeks later he recognised me straight away and asked how I was and if I'd enjoyed the rest of the night. We had a great chat about things that day, talking about him moving on to Quins and the need for change sometimes. I told him at the time that he has to do what’s right for him and his career, while he worried about being able to maintain the Quins victory record against Sarries at the Stoop!

I’ll be gutted to see him play in a Quins shirt next season (although come internationals it’ll be nice to know another team is losing one of their stars to even the field a bit!) but I’m  so very glad that he was able to sign off from his time at Sarries scoring our final try to win back our Premiership title!! 

Going out in style with one hell of a goodbye gift to us!

So, in conclusion I metaphorically raise my glass and toast;

To Chris Wyles, our Born In The USA superstar who’s brilliance on the pitch will surely be matched by the growth of his wonderful Wolfpack brand – may the pack always go to work for you!

To Schalk Brits, the never grow up Peter Pan who reinvented what it means to be a hooker – may your family forever keep you young and may the sun of your SA homeland be as bright as your smile and more welcoming than the drizzle of an away game up north!

To Nathan Earle, the youth and promise of tomorrow with a heart as big as his smile – may your travels take you far and wide, and may we meet again in battle on the hallowed turfs, another wolf-raised rose, you’ll always be one of the family, go well my friend!

#SarriesFamilyForever 

Westminster Autism Commission speech 2 - A Spectrum of Harm

The speech I gave on Wednesday 28th March at the launch of the Westminster Autism Commission's latest report into fake cures "A Spectrum of Harm"

This report started life when one of the Commission members, shortly after our successful healthcare inquiry report, asked “Shouldn’t we do something about quackery and fake cures?”

Well, the short answer was yes we should, but it took a while to piece together exactly *how* to do so. We were at a loss to begin with, as to where the responsibility even lay in legislation and just who we were wanting to talk to.

And this wasn't a problem unique to us, so many people have told us their stories of how they've not known what to do when spotting a social media post advertising a false remedy, or heard someone recommending a treatment that sounds strange or dangerous.

The continual expansion of the internet and social media has been a boon for a huge number of autistic people like myself; we use it to reach out to our community and support each other across fields and oceans.

But there is a nasty edge to the internet and the surface doesn't need scratching very hard to find an ugliness waiting to take advantage of other people’s desperation and lack of knowledge.

The fear that strikes into my heart is not of the charlatans and snake oil salesman themselves, these people have always existed, but that we, as a community, have become "profitable", that being autistic is still being seen as "wrong" and needing to be "fixed".

Parents will always search for ways to mould their child to their own ideal and initially struggle with things that don't fit their preconceived ideas; you know the stereotypes - the son who's sexuality doesn't match his father's, the daughter whose lack of ambitions horrified the mother who broke the glass ceiling, the grandchild who just won't "settle down and get a real job"!

But this isn’t about demonizing parents, it’s about supporting them - what we desperately need now is active guidance for parents towards support groups and autistic adults they can learn from, guidance for school staff and medical professionals on how to report concerns about dangerous treatments being used or talked about, and guidance in how to tackle the huge giants of social media and get them to realise that not every adverts money should be accepted and evidence bases are needed to promote treatments and therapies!

But more than that, we need those who hold the power to regulate to step up and start taking responsibility;

When it comes to vile ‘treatments’ such as MMS, we need the MHRA to extend to cover all healthcare products and not just those deemed ‘medicine’ by the NHS,

We need the Food Standards Agency to be clearer about its remit which extends beyond sandwiches and takeaways!

We need more clarity from all the agencies with responsibilities over what the public are told about products and how they can access them, and we need easier routes to advice and reporting.

These regulatory bodies should be easy to use for us and hard to escape from for those who seek to do us harm!

There needs to be repercussions for those pedalling these products; legal consequences – fines and prosecutions.

At this point I would like to thank the representatives of the agencies that did engage with us, and came to our evidence session, along with all the people who responded to our survey.

I would especially like to thank Emma Dalmayne for her tireless work in this area, it’s not easy to go out there every day and fight against people so entrenched in their mind-sets that they don’t see, or don’t care, about the harm they are doing.

We know that sadly, we will never be able to fully stop the actions of abusive people in this world, but between Emma’s work and our Commission’s report here today we hope we can make it harder for good people to get conned down those paths, make it harder for not so good people to make money out of those scams and ultimately make it harder for people to find out about them.

Vulnerable people are being targeted and we lack the arsenal to defend our rights as human beings, we need to bring the guidance, legislation and regulations into the smartphone century and realise that having the world at our fingertips means we need to be more aware of what is out there and what hopes, dreams and snake oil is being sold to people.

We do not need fixing, we do not need curing, but we do need supporting in our fight.

If you wouldn’t want it done to your child, then don’t stand for it being done to an autistic child.

Tales of Wisdom; Operation Extraction!

So I've been fairly quiet recently in terms of blogs, social media and general non-work activities.

It all started in October when I came down with the flu. Not a really bad cold but the genuine I can't get my legs to move for 5 days, even breathing hurts, flu.

Having had the flu twice before in my life (once was the awful swine flu version) I know how long affects can linger and still cause issues. So I was expecting the dull aches and joint pain and excessive tiredness to roll on for a few weeks at least which is why it took me so long to realise that the pain from my left side jaw was abnormal. I could tell that my gums had receeded slightly during the flu and thought that it was just a hangover pain from that, an ache in the bones from sensitivities and the flu.

It took me about a month to work out that actually, that teeny nub of a wisdom tooth had started moving again and it was essentially teething pain! A trip to the dentist at the start of December revealed that the tooth was trying to erupt but was so impacted it was on it's side, pushing into the next molar as its back point was erupting through the gum.

Ah great

This meant surgery to remove the tooth

Oh

Okay

The thing is I've had a pretty healthy life so far, made it to 30 without ever having had any big medical procedures like surgery. Sure I'd had MRIs done for medical research and the odd xray and ECG but nothing major, nothing that would involve General Anaesthetic. And this would.

I could have tried the local route but given how little of the tooth was through the gum it was going to be a fair bit more traumatic for my body than when I had two baby teeth cracked out at 13! (No adult teeth grew for my 5s, we thought this would make future wisdom teeth less of a problem!)

I was also acutely aware of how difficult I find regular dentist appointments and how utterly pushed to the edge of my coping ability I was by a molar filling a few years ago. No, going fully under was the best way for this to happen!

So, having decided on the best way forward I was then stymied by the eternal curse of the UK - the NHS waiting lists!

My dentist was unable to do the procedure so had referred me to a specialist surgery just before Christmas, and they in turn referred me on to Lister hospital - at the time of referral at the start of January Lister were advertising a 15 week waiting period.

I figuratively gritted my teeth at this (literally doing so was far too painful!) and simply began to carefully manage my pain relief routine (which now include codiene three times a day) and carry on with work as normal.

On my own I probably would still be waiting for Lister to get in touch about a consultant appointment ahead of the surgery bit luckily for me I have a very caring, very interfering family!

I'd spent a few days with my Grandparents while my mum and stepdad were on holiday and my Grandad had seen the pain I was in, even with the religiously followed pain relief schedule, and decided enough was enough. Cue a few days later a conversation with my brother where he admitted that they'd been talking together behind my back about arranging for me to go private for the procedure!

Now, I'm a complete JAM 30-something thanks to rent rates and exorbitant train fares so there was no way I could ever afford private care, I could barely afford the price quoted just for the initial consultation! Luckily my brother is a complete softy when it comes to me and he pulled off a modern-day miracle by convincing my Grandad that it was his own idea to offer me the help I needed!

As it turned out the £2k price tag was a bit more than my state-pension grandfather could afford but my mum was willing to add a contribution to the pot so all I had to cover was the £150 pre-surgery consultation fee which my dad ended up giving me after the surgery! I did still have to cover the mounting costs of pain relief however - there were definitely days my resolve to not get them on prescription was severely tested, especially the day I worked out I'd spent over £60 on them!

Once we'd decided to go ahead with the private option it was all really quick. (It didn't feel like it at the time as I was still struggling into work everyday on huge amount of pain relief and a limited diet!)

I called for an appointment Thursday 25th, was given Monday 29th for the consult and had the surgery less than 2 weeks later on Friday 9th!

The one thing I did find distressing with it all moving so fast though was the lack of time to process what I knew and what I still needed to know - I was calling the hospital from work the day before the surgery to check what I was supposed to do about taking my pain relief the next morning as I was nil by mouth from midnight!

The hospital was not far from my flat but I would be going home with my mum afterwards as they wouldn't release me to go home alone post GA - fine by me, I wanted home comfort TLC anyway!

I was due at the admissions by 11am so had to plan my night before and morning carefully; last big meal at 10.30pm so when I went NBM at midnight my stomach had enough in it to last! I set alarms for 5.45am so I took all my usual medication plus pain relief with the last glass of water I was allowed before going back to sleep to "waste" the hours before I was due to leave - pretty sure my anxiety wouldn't have fared well against trying to do anything else that morning!

Arriving at the hospital was odd, I had loads of stuff in my mum's car to go back to hers after (like my huge bed blanket and multiple pyjamas!) but the bag I took in was fairly small - I wasn't expected to stay more than a few hours after coming round.

I had, naturally, completely freaked out the night before and had written on my phone a slightly rambling, slightly soppy 'letter' to my brother and had even set an alarm to go off on my phone that evening telling my mum the password to unlock my phone "just in case"!

Once admitted I was lead through to a lovely room where my mum helped me pass the time with idle chatter before the student doctor arrived. Mum had to go back to work then so I was left to twiddle my thumbs and answer the same questions multiple times - I was starting to doubt my own answers by the third time round!

Having finally got my hands on the after care leaflets I started reading the information and was trying to work out the likelihood of making it to work on Monday morning when I was given a gown and stockings to put on. I was told I could keep my underwear on which was a relief, and could put my long towelling dressing gown on over the top, which was good as I epically failed at working out how to do the ties up by myself!

The stocking though were a nightmare! Awful things that made me feel vaguely queasy as soon as I'd wrestled them on. The foot bit seemed to be wrong no matter which way I turned it and I couldn't work out why only the tips of my toes were poking out.

I had just about got myself sorted and was messing around with my sensory frog and social media postings when they came to take me down to theatre - I shuffled off down the hall in my stupid stockings, slippers, towelling robe and flapping open gown, clutching my frog with the strength of a front rower!

My anxiety was spiking massively at this point, I knew what was coming even though I'd never been through this before. A cannula and then lights out, simple right? Well, it might have been had the first cannula gone in properly! Maybe it was because I was so tense and nervous or maybe it was just bad luck but they buggered up the first try in my left hand and had to take it out. This left me lying there going through my usual shock reaction to a needle (I normally go extremely white and neatly pass out just having blood taken as I can feel the needle under my skin!) and feeling like I wanted to be sick and yet still not able to have the sleepy stuff pumped into me! At this point a very kind lady helped me transfer my frog to my now achy and taped up left hand so they could put the cannula in to my right. I was very surprised they hadn't taken him off my already, and when I slurred something to that effect the lovely nurse told me that I could keep him with me and covered my hand holding him with the sterile blanket! 

Cannula now inserted into the right hand I think I actually passed out before the anaesthetic hit me as it felt exactly like previous needle related faints did!

Next thing I know I'm looking out of very heavy lidded eyes at a glaring white ceiling with a very odd sensation over my whole head and neck. A face looms into view and says something to me but my ears are like they are underwater. Then there's a very peculiar feeling and a slight gag reflex and I realise the breathing tube has just been pulled out and suddenly I'm aware of how strange that had felt!

The voice comes back a bit clearer now telling me that I'm in recovery and doing nicely. Another voice joins in above my head but I can't really tell what's going on, I think I fade back to sleep at this point because the next thing I know the bed I'm on is moving and I'm feeling seasick. Still barely able to lift my own head or keep my eyes open I'm wheeled back into my room and asked to shift across to the bed there. How I managed to coordinate my limbs in the right way to achieve this I'll never know because I was so heavy everywhere I could barely feel my extremities!

Settled into the bed I think I dozed for an hour or so until I was woken by a nurse doing one and taking my blood pressure - a sensation I've never liked and always had a minor sensory reaction to. At this point I became aware of how hot I was and almost desperately tried to free myself of some of the numerous layers on my lower half - I had on the medical stocking, calf wraps of some kind, a foil type blanket, and actual blanket and then a duvet! I was cooking under all that!

I convinced the next nurse to take off the weird calf wrap things that apparently were an extra anti-DVT device to keep my muscles stimulated (even though I was only under for an hour or so I was given them "just in case"!) and I was able to start cooling down. The stockings still irritated me like hell though, tight and extremely uncomfortable in my highly sensory sensitive state.

No one had really been able to give me an accurate idea of what any of this post-op recovery would be like so I was just lying there in my dopey state wondering what would happen next. I eventually managed to get a nurse to give me some painkillers that I could take with small sips of water as my entire left side of my face felt like it had been hit by a car. The surgeon came by around that time to check in on me and tell me that everything had gone well, giving me his office card to call if I had any problems in the immediate recovery period.

After some more sleeping and more begging for the stockings to come off they did and I was able to move my legs about enough to lift myself higher on the propped bed and reach my phone on the side table to text my mum. I was incredibly surprised so little time had passed at this point - only 3 hours had passed from my last text saying the anaesthetist had come to take me down. I still had the cannula in which was causing me discomfort so the latest obs nurse agreed to take it out before my mum arrived. When she got to my room I was feeling miles better as the two little tablets had kicked in and I had regained enough feeling in my throat and jaw to talk reasonably unslurred. We stayed a little while as I was still not fully ready to leave but after half an hour of chatting (including a call to the grandparents) I was okay to get myself dressed and pack up my stuff ready for discharge!

Pt 2 continues in "Tales of Wisdom: The Recovery"

Why I hate the culture of "good morning"

One of the things I've really been struggling with recently is the insistence from most people to force me to acknowlege them

Most people just call it saying "good morning" and don't think anything to it but to me its a deliberate intrusion into my world, demanding that I give them attention and respond in kind.

Well, most of the time I don't want to respond in kind. Usually because in kind makes no sense - if the person says "good morning" then that's a presumptuous statement assuming that my morning has been good so far (generally they are crap as I'm really not a morning person and really struggle with executive functioning fails in the first few hours awake!), alternatively the greeting is simply "morning" which is a statement of fact and not one I need telling, I'm perfectly aware that it's the morning that's why I'm out of bed! Of course then there's always the people that go even further and ask "how are you" or enquire as to your previous evening/weekend, requiring further effort to actually select an appropriate answer from the bank and verbalise it without resorting to sarcastic bites or scowls.

I fail at this a lot. My answers to "how are you" are often brutally honest and my retorts to queries about my night can cause awkwardness and uncomfortable reactions.

Not that I care, don't ask such a stupid question if you don't want to deal with my genuine response! I find questions about last night/my weekend to be intrusive and not always work appropriate, the worst of which is asking someone if they slept well - particularly if the person is known to be dating/in a relationship - what exactly is being asked?!

The nuances of social interactions can be lost on me, I fully acknowledge this and I work hard to ensure that I learn and maintain key skills for interacting with strangers, colleagues and friends (family have known me far too long to be bothered by morning-me!)

I just wish I could get people to understand the cost of this ridiculous ritual they engage in every day, how I have to use energy to recognise that I am being talked to, put on pause the thoughts I was having when interrpted, school my features into an appropriate 'responding' expression and engage my vocalisation skills while looking at the person and taking off my coat/signing in the building etc. Because you have to be doing something as you respond, if you stop still then this is taken as a cue for further conversation!

Sigh

There is no answer, no way to stop people doing these silly social dances they insist on, I just have to keep going, keep doing what I do to cope and make it through the day without snapping at anyone . . . . out loud that is!

Time to go back to core values

Tis the Christmas season and all through the country there are trees being decorated, cards being written and mince pies being eaten.

And yet, there is a disturbing lack of the core traditinal values of Christmas in sight - the giving of time and wealth freely, the offering of shelter to those in need, the arrival of hope and peace.

My country is still deeply in the midst of the cuts and cruelty era, the onwards decent into a cold civil war called Brexit, a faltering relationship with the rest of the world. Not that the rest of the world is doing much better with the Christmas values, the USA is testing itself apart thanks to a bigoted, nepotistic, vile wotsit that they somehow have allowed in the White House.

Never before in my life have the concepts of "love thy neighbour" and "peace and goodwill for all mankind" been so missing, so conspicuously absent from society. Even the traditional British values of my childhood have faded away, lost into the cesspool of hatred and selfishness that currently reigns supreme; where is the country that stood up for its continental allies, that created a way of caring for its citizens without thought for wealth or status, that vowed to fight to eridacte poverty and hunger, that worked to succesfuly transition empire states back to independence. I grew up in a part of London where I encountered more languages and accents than football teams, attended a school that took pride in the broken bit of wall at the far end of the playing field - all that was left of the previous school building that was destroyed in the Blitz.

There still come flashes of the old values and spirit when it's needed most: when lives are endangered, when sacrifices must be made of the highest level, people still step forward and are counted. The many will always owe the few more than can ever be repaid and that is the heart of humanity at its best, the willingness to be one of the few.

But even these acts of bravery and courage are being altered, our perception of events is shifting again and as more actions are being tainted by accusations of falsehood and egotism the more we allow ourselves to be manipulated by those driven by selfish desires and hidden agendas.

I want to be the kind of person who's word is believed without the need for evidence, I want to be the kind of person who can trust and believe the word of those closest to me. But the world we are living in has destroyed this, other people's actions have destroyed this.

I try to live my life by the core values of my chosen rugby club Saracens: Humility, Discipline, Honesty and Work Rate. These words are there to guide the club and its supporters, to remind us that we shouldn't expect to win every game, that we must be firm in our good practises, that we need to acknowledge when we weren't good enough and that we need to keep moving forwards at all times.

The recent run of losses has been hard, the ever growing list of injuries a concern, and yet I know that we will find our way through this because I know that my club will hold true to our core values, they will be humble and say that Quins (mainly Danny Care) outplayed them, they will respect that we gave away penalties that cost us, they will admit that it wasn't good enough and that excuses of missing internationals no longer holds water, and they will absolutely work and work and work until they can fix this problem, until they find their mojo again and get back to being the brilliantly cohesive wolfpack family we love.

I buy into the Saracens core values just as I've always bought into the traditional Christmas ones.

And so I look to a star for hope for right now, not the one in my club logo or the one on top of my tree but the one proudly displayed on my Santa red shirt, the one my boys earned in Lyon, the one they never stopped fighting for.

I look to that star as we head to our European weekend needing confidence and belief.

I look to that star as I worry about the future of travelling to Europe and remember why I care so much, the people I've met along the way and the places I've been - Toulon, Llanelli, Salford, Dublin and Edinburgh.

I look to that star and remember last Christmas and the gifts my family gave me to help me get to those games, the promises that were kept, the words that held true.

I look to that star and smile

🌟

Fireworks and sensory overloads

So the past weekend was fairly awful for me sensory wise.

I knew it would be, the 5th of November happening and all, but yet again it' the range of days that has worn me down and left me vulnerable and in pain.

I'm sure when I was a kid Bonfire Night (as it was called then, not Fireworks Night) was celebrated on the 5th and/or the closest Saturday to it. And that was all. Nowadays it seems to be non stop from mid October, starting with Diwali and continuing on through Halloween to the 5th/weekend after the 5th.

The thing for me is the unpredictability. On NYE I know the a huge amount of fireworks are going to go off between 11.59 on the 31st and 00.30ish on the 1st January. But I know this and I prepare accordingly. With this melee of randomness it's  lot harder for me. And that's where I find this new obsession with fireworks difficult.

Fireworks are essentially coloured, controlled chemical reactions, but they have evolved over the years to be more about the explosion than anything. The huge bangs and the screechers that leave me with migraine like headaches as my sensory neurons are set alight in my brain.

I grew up in East London for my early childhood so Diwali was never anything strange or new to me, I loved the concept of a festive of lights as a kid, I was fascinated with fire and the sun and how sources of light work.

I remember seeing Diwali events that were all about flames and naural light, huge displays of candles with the only fireworks being used were Catherine wheels and Roman candles - the fizzing fountain type fireworks that are static and looked at rather than shooting up into the sky, the pretty not-noisy ones.

And I remember November 5th being called Bonfire Night or Guy Fawkes Night, and it was predominately about chucking a vaguely man shaped thing on a huge fire to represent an English historical event. I loved that night, spending all afternoon stuffing newspaper into an old jumper and trousers before running outside to light the huge pile of wood gathered up. The evening would be all about sticking sausages to a mound of mash potatoes on a plate to mimic a bonfire and arguing over who could write the best sparkler word.

There are a few fireworks memories but as we had dogs who weren't good with loud sudden noises we generally stuck to the fountains and littler ones, avoiding the bangers and screechers. As I grew up I did go to some fireworks displays but they were at least coordinated and to set timings, I had developed ways of coping with the noise in order to enjoy the pretty visual aspect of fireworks.

One of the biggest issues I have with fireworks nowadays is how common they are. No longer reserved just for NYE and November 5th, it's not unheard of for fireworks to go off on any given day for people celebrating weddings, engagements, big birthdays or anything really.

I felt angry back in May a few years ago when in the middle of the week fireworks were going off at 9pm - I remember it because there was a GCSE Maths exam the next day and I couldn't imagine how tough it must have been to be revising or trying to get a decent nights sleep with all that going on out your open window.

I understand people want to celebrate when good things happen but fireworks have become a bit like champagne - not very rare or special anymore. But unlike champagne which only affects me if I personally drink too much of it, fireworks have a real and serious impact on those of us who are autistic and/or auditory sensitive.

Still, it's all over for another year. Just the British Legion brass bands everywhere to put up with now before I can start drowning out all background noise with Christmas music!!

Why I don't want a longer rugby union season

I've been reading a lot of articles recently about the season length and injury attrition, and its got me thinking about just why I agree so much with Billy V and Christian Day.

See, I have the type of life where I can fully understand burn-out and attritional damage. The way being autistic affects me is similar to what Billy and Christian describe when talking about little niggles and injuries that don't heal properly. Only mine is mostly in my head, where the outcome isn't needing surgery or physio, but needing dark and quiet to stop the immense pressure building inside my skull.

Autism Fatigue is a term I talk a lot about so I'm not going to rehash everything I've said before (especially as I'm trying to write a book about it right now!) but the one thing I will say is that the "little and often" approach to breaks only really work when they're in tandem with a longer more complete break.

Days here and there when I don't speak to anyone and don't have to mask are what keep me ticking over week after week, but without that knowledge that I have a longer break on the horizon the mental health aspect kicks in and I spiral into a depressive cycle.

And this is what I fear for our players; that without an appropriate length break/pre season period their mental health will suffer and the knocks/niggles will take longer to shake off when it's so much harder to convince yourself to do the rehab work required.

I don't want to be hearing that players aren't available for selection because they're fighting depression and anxiety as well as injuries, it's bad enough that these guys will suffer through those dark days after they retire, don't put them through it while they're still playing!!

My support of my club and country doesn't wane during off-season, I don't forget about rugby as a sport if it's not on TV every weekend. Yes I miss it fiercely, enough that when it comes back I'm positively chomping at the bit to get over to Twickenham for the LDH, but not to the point where I go looking for another sport to replace it! (Wimbledon and Le Tour don't count, they are events that happen during the day that I watched every year long before I got back into rugby!)

The rugby head honchos don't need to find ways to "keep viewers" around in summer months by stretching the season - a concept that doesn't reduce player work load but actually increases it for the international stars as they will have their post competition rest on a rest week with everyone else and so be available for more club games selection than currently!

Rugby needs to be leading the way in sport in demonstrating to children how to have a healthy relationship with exercise; to not start leading impressionable minds down the garden path to the "must go to the gym everyday" mentality that can cause body image difficulties in young men and women. Rugby union is a shining example of how a sport can be family friendly and still attract the adults, can be home grown and exciting, can be world class and still relatable.

So, to Billy, Christian, and any of the other players saying the same thing, I support you 100% in whatever action you as players choose to take, upto and including a full strike.

I stand with the players, now and always, in saying that player health and welfare must come first in these discussions. Now is the time to take this stand, to protect current and future generations of players and role models while protecting the spirit and ethos of the game we love so much.

#RugbyFamily