The leg that dare not speak its name

I've had a rather curious week, disability-wise, in that I managed to pull a muscle in my leg in Cambridge last week and so I have been walking around with a limp most of the time. Don't worry - I'm not going to claim that this gave me an insight into what it is like to be physically impaired, but I was rather interested in people's reactions, or rather the lack of them.

I wouldn't call myself a social genius or anything but I'm pretty sure that it is customary, when someone starts limping, to ask about the cause of the injury. However, this has only happened to me twice in the entire week. On the second occasion, I was so surprised that it took me three attempts before I understood what the person was saying. I can think of a few possibilities:

1) Perhaps no-one noticed anything unusual because I walk around weirdly all of the time. This possibility is not as bizarre as it may seem. I have often thought that I may have dyspraxia, not just because I am clumsy, but because I have considerable difficulty with muscle co-ordination. Therefore, maybe it looks like I am limping even when I haven't had an injury.

2) A related but slightly different option is that my work colleagues feel that they should not mention it because it may relate in some way to the fact that I am disabled. Because I have a cognitive impairment, which is an equally taboo topic of conversation, my limp may be regarded as something that is best avoided, although presumably it would not be for others.

3) Finally, perhaps I have broken some code of behaviour by going into work at all with a limp. After all, I've no doubt that most people would cry off ill in the same situation. I've read that disabled people take less sick leave than their colleagues, either because they are just less wimpy or they want to make the point that impairment should not be a barrier to work.

On the other hand, there is a very real possibility that I am simply experiencing disability paranoia. It was certainly buzzing like mad on Thursday morning when I was stopped and searched by the police. With my Southern European looks, maybe they thought I was Bosnian. I'm sure my gammy leg didn't make me look that much like a sinister Hollywood villain. Crazy? You decide.

More bad journalism

To the untrained eye, this story in Monday's Guardian no doubt seems innocuous or even positive. So why does it really annoy me? There has been some discussion on the Ouch! messageboard about its offensive language and the patronising tone - this is spot on, but there is more to it than that for me. It's the sinister cheeriness of the story, as though it is supposed to give people hope. i.e. "Don't worry that your local supermarket won't employ you in case you scare away the customers - why not start your own business and make your millions that way instead?" It somehow manages to both express surprise at Liz Jackson's success while, at the same time, denying the discriminatory barriers that virtually all other disabled people experience in the workplace. The implication is that equality laws are not really necessary as long as you are made of the "right stuff."

An overdue obituary?

Sir Richard Doll, who recently died, made his name by discovering the link between smoking and lung cancer. However, his commitment to saving lives was rather undermined by his suggestion, in 1973, that people over 65 should be willing to accept death and not try to prolong their lives for too long. He wanted to save the state the money that it costs to look after pensioners, which rather begs the question of why he told them to give up their cigarettes in the first place. Ironically, he managed to survive until the ripe old age of 92. As is often the case, he clearly did not carry out his own advice himself.

The best days of my life?

I was in Cambridge yesterday, where I was at university. I went there with some teammates to play in a korfball tournament but we later went into town, to drink Pimms and lemonade on a punt, and to visit some old haunts. One of the great things about having studied there is that I can pay reduced rates for things like punt hire, on condition, presumably, that I give lots of money to the college when I am rich and famous. If I do somehow manage to make my millions, I might make a donation to help them to improve their disability access, which leaves something to be desired.

Returning to Cambridge gives me a chance to reflect back on my university years a decade ago, although it seems like much longer. I am always surprised that it is only happy memories that seem to be triggered, even though my time at Cambridge was, without doubt, the most miserable period of my life. I struggled academically, changing subjects from maths to history at one point and, having not yet identified my autism, I was unable to understand my difficulty in making friends. As a consequence, I had severe depression, and ended up dropping out for a year. My life improved slightly after coming back but I still struggled.

There is a psychological theory that we remember happy things more easily when we are happy, and depressing things more easily when we are depressed. Perhaps I have fond memories of Cambridge simply because my mood has subsequently become much better. On the other hand, maybe my university days were much more enjoyable than they seemed at the time. I can recall some great parties and punting expeditions and a number of people who were both kind and fun to be with, although sadly I have only kept in touch with one of them.

There is one sad aspect to any trip to Cambridge. Having been in London for many years, I don't seem to know anyone who lives there any more. In a series of coincidences, members of my group bumped into a large number of people that they knew from various places, including some people who recognised one of us while they were crossing the Bridge of Sighs and we were sailing underneath it. No such luck for me. However, many of my favourite places in the town are still there and perhaps that is why that I always enjoy returning.

Intelligent life found on Earth

I was pleased to hear that there was a sensible reaction from Professor Colin Pillinger to the discovery that he has multiple sclerosis. Unlike certain disabled celebrities that I can mention, he did not immediately demand that science pour all of its resources into finding a highly unlikely cure for his impairment. Instead, he insisted that his priority remains a further British expedition to Mars, acknowledging that this would be of a greater benefit to the promotion of science as a whole.

Nevertheless, I have one small caveat. A mission to Mars would still be an expensive luxury, a bid for headlines rather than the unglamorous but vital work of most scientists. Perhaps he should not ignore the issue of his MS after all but, instead of pushing for a miraculous cure, he should promote and celebrate the work that has been done, and continues to be done, to make life more bearable for people with the condition, such as medicines for pain relief as well as technologies that make the world accessible to people with MS. A space programme would certainly be a useful way of making science exciting and encouraging people to choose it for a career but we also need to remind people of its more mundane, but equally necessary achievements. Especially when they are considerably cheaper.

A Great Dane

I haven't posted for a week now because I have been away on holiday in Denmark, visiting my friend Kim, and while I was there, I had a chance to make a pilgrimage of sorts to the island of Hven. One of my many autistic obsessions is the history of science and Hven was once the location of a famous observatory and research institute, built by the Danish astronomer, Tycho Brahe.

Tycho's greatest achievement was to make extremely detailed measurements of the movements of the planets. Although he placed the Earth at the centre of the universe, his high degree of accuracy later allowed his assistant, Johannes Kepler, to demontstrate that the planets travel in elliptical orbits around the Sun. This in turn led Sir Isaac Newton to discover his theory of universal gravitation and so modern science was born.

Tycho was also known for being physically impaired, having lost part of his nose in a duel. Sadly, this fact was glossed over by the museum, missing the opportunity to promote another disabled hero. It also prevented me from finding out whether his replacement nose was really made of gold, as has been claimed, or whether a cheaper substitute metal was used. Similarly, there was no discussion of his personal hygeine so I am also unable to tell you whether or not his smell was terrible. (Sorry - I couldn't resist it!)

Where have all the autistic women gone?

Professional autism "expert" Christopher Gillberg made an interesting claim last week - that autism is underdiagnosed in girls because they do not fit the classic symptom profile. I don't agree with everything Gillberg says but I think that he has a good point here, and it makes a refreshing change from Simon Baron-Cohen's suggestion that autism is an expression of extreme maleness. While not wishing to deny that I am the very embodiment of masculinity, I consider this idea to be a rather silly oversimplification.

Psychiatry is inherently misogynist (perhaps shrinks should think about their own relationships with their mothers) and one feature of this is the proliferation of diagnoses with the rather unpleasant label "personality disorders," most of which are applied primarily to women. I suspect that many women who have been told that they have such conditions should more accurately have been classified as being on the autistic spectrum. Then, instead of paying through the nose for Freudian psychoanalysis for their modern-day "hysteria", they may accept their quirks and encourage those around them to do the same.

There is another issue here, at a more personal level. Almost all of the women that I have had a near-relationship with have had, in my opinion, feminine but autism-like traits. Sadly, I missed my chances at the time and such women are hard to find. Whenever I attend events for neurodiverse people, it is always the case that most of the men are single but all of the women are already in relationships - a feature of the sex imbalance in diagnosis. If I could somehow find those women who have slipped through the diagnostic net then perhaps I could find a life partner. On the other hand, there is an obvious disadvantage in writing a lonely hearts advert that says "Autistic male, 30, seeks female with personality disorder".

I don't particularly buy the idea that disabled people should seek partners who share their impairments but it is a slightly different situation when it is the way of relating to people that is impaired. I don't click with all autistic people, by any means, but when there is a connection with someone, they can rarely be accurately described as neurotypical. I will doubtless meet someone in the future and, in the meantime, I will try to learn all that I can about flirting to ensure that I do not let the opportunity go past again.

Lies, damned lies etc.

It's such a stereotype that people with autism have obsessions about certain subjects. At social events for autistic people, I am often asked to name my 'special interest'. I find it very hard to answer because I am interested in a wide variety of things, although I do bring my fact-finding ability and ruthless attention to detail to bear on all of them. As a teenager, I spent a great deal of time on my hobby of compiling sports statistics and, this Wimbledon, I experienced a brief revival of the craze. I decided to determine the most successful players, male and female, at the Championships since 1968, when professionals were allowed to take part for the first time.

In case you are interested, I have decided to add a social dimension to this effort by publishing the results on this blog. The tables have been compiled based on the ranking systems currently used in men's and women's tennis. The top twenty male players at Wimbledon are:

1) Jimmy Connors
2) Pete Sampras
3) Boris Becker
4) John McEnroe
5) Bjorn Borg
6) Stefan Edberg
7) Goran Ivanisevic
8) Ivan Lendl
9) Andre Agassi
10) John Newcombe
11) Roger Federer
12) Stan Smith
13) Tim Henman
14) Roscoe Tanner
15) Ilie Nastase
16) Rod Laver
17) Patrick Rafter
18) Pat Cash
19) Arthur Ashe
20) Richard Krajicek

It's rather a surprise that Jimmy Connors finishes top of the list, as he only has two victories, compared to seven by Pete Sampras. However, he reached six finals and got to the semi-finals a staggering eleven times. Similarly, Tim Henman finishes remarkably high at unlucky thirteen, by virtue of an impressive four semi-final appearances. Here are the top twenty women:

1) Martina Navratilova
2) Chris Evert
3) Steffi Graf
4) Billie Jean King
5) Evonne Goolagong
6) Venus Williams
7) Lindsay Davenport
8) Virgina Wade
9) Jana Novotna
10) Serena Williams
11) Margaret Court
12) Gabriela Sabatini
13) Arantxa Sanchez Vicario
14) Conchita Martinez
15) Rosie Casals
16) Pam Shriver
17) Hana Mandlikova
18) Zina Garrison
19) Nathalie Tauziat
20) Jennifer Capriati

There are fewer shocks here but, if you are wondering why Martina Hingis is not listed, it is because she played in only seven Wimbledons, and lost in the first round of three of them.

I have now moved onto a new obsession, online poker, not for money fortunately, because I am not very good. Still, I am the sort of person who can get addicted to gambling, even when playing with monopoly money, so I had better be a little bit careful.

A day in a daze

The terrorist attack yesterday left quite a lot of a Londoners in a disorientated state. Being autistic, I am pretty disorientated quite a lot of the time anyway and it feels as if the effect was exacerbated in my case. For what it's worth, here's the story of my journey into work.

I left my Hackney flat at the normal time and got on a bus to Bethnal Green to catch the Central Line tube. The tannoy announced that Liverpool Street and Bank stations were closed because of a "power failure" but I thought nothing of it and boarded the train. At St. Pauls, we were told that the entire underground system had now been closed and that we must evacuate the station, with rather more urgency than a mere power failure would seem to justify. Nevertheless, I dismissed this fact at the time and responded by cursing British public transport. I even started to worry whether an Olympics in London is a good idea.

To get to my workplace in West London, I needed to get as far as Marble Arch where I could catch the right bus. Had I still been in Hackney, I would have boarded a No. 30 (the one that was later blown up) but instead I had to find a way of getting there from St. Pauls.

I tried to get a bus as far as Oxford Circus but it was already full and the driver wasn't letting anybody on. I started walking towards the West End and noticed rather more police cars and fire engines than would be expected on a Thursday morning but, again, the penny failed to drop. Not thinking straight, I boarded a No.19 bus at Holborn, forgetting that it was about to turn into Charing Cross Road. I quickly got out and began to walk up Oxford Street. I then attempted to catch a bus all the way to Hammersmith but it also refused to stop.

At Oxford Circus, I caught a bus that was on its way to Edgware Road - another of the targets. At Marble Arch, the driver suddenly turned the bus around and started going back along Oxford Street. I had no idea what was happening and started shouting at the driver and demanding to be a let off. A fellow passenger tried to explain the situation to me but I had a bit of an autistic moment and wasn't really paying attention. I heard him say "five" and "Liverpool Street" and that's about all so I was none the wiser.

I was finally able to walk to Lancaster Gate and catch my two buses into work. When I arrived, an hour and a half late, I was searched by security on the way in. At last, I realised that something serious was happening and asked them to fill me in. In the office, I had access to the internet, and was finally able to get all the details, and realised that I had spent about an hour wandering through London, oblivious to the terrorist emergency that was going on around me.

I realise that my experience is hardly comparable to those of people who lost friends or relatives or those who witnessed the explosions. However, it was rather more unusual, and in its own way frightening, than my usual day so I thought that I would share it with you. I look forward to more mundane adventures from now on.

Silencing the Greatest

Today, Muhammed Ali was in Singapore to promote New York's Olympic bid. The only problem is that they didn't let him speak. Surely it can't be because he has Parkinson's Disease?

James in "active social life" shocker

I haven't posted for a little while because I have had a busy weekend. I had a rather hot Ethiopian meal, I went clubbing, and played poker with friends. I appreciate a hectic social life more than most because I can remember having few friends and being very lonely in my early twenties. Quite a few people seem to take this for granted. I was often told that everyone feels insecure around others, however popular they are, and I was reminded of this for a few uncomfortable moments at the restaurant. However, once I got chatting, I was fine and I ended up having a really great evening, which goes to show that having friends is incredibly important to pull yourself out of your paranoid thoughts. So never take them for granted!

Unsafe excuses

I read today that a child with ADHD was excluded from a school trip, supposedly because of health and safety concerns - the school even went so far as to do a risk assessment. Sadly, health and safety is a common defence for discrimination and is often used spuriously. For instance, British Airways recently lost a case in which they claimed that it would be dangerous for a female pilot with children to work part-time, although the reasons for their concern were not fully explained. Perhaps they had heard too many jokes about women drivers and were worried about her three-point turns!

The solution is simple. Discrimination legislation should be tightened to ensure that health and safety can never be used as an excuse. If genuine risks do arise, these can be resolved straightforwardly by making additional adjustments for the relevant party, at the cost of the organisation concerned. If this happened then I'm pretty sure that any worries they have would disappear in a flash.