Sunday, 27 January 2019

Post #158 - If You're Planning A Party - Please Let Me Know!

Regular readers may recall a previous reference to my maternal great aunt, or as I dubbed her The Home Counties Methuselah?  She's due to turn ninety in March and her son, who's in his sixties, is planning a birthday bash.  He wrote this in the Christmas Card to MotherLogic, but we weren't treated to this information.

There's a bit of background here: so I don't need to elaborate too much.  I'd only bore myself by doing that anyway.

If a big event is due to occur in March, wouldn't you have issued the invitations by now?  It's the end of January for goodness sake! If not, why not tell everyone that it's not happening?  It's flimsy nebulous thinking like this which irritates me about certain members of the allistic/nypical/neurotypical community.  I asked MotherLogic last night, but she didn't seem to know either, believing that it would go ahead.  Will it indeed?  If so, I don't think that I'll be joining the party.  So there!  I'll merely go off and sulk in front of my television.

I used to find it hard to socialise with MotherLogic's cousin and his partner anyway.  In the days before I knew that I was autistic, LogicTowers used to host family get togethers, mainly because it boasts ha - a lovely estate agent term - can you imagine a group of semi-detached houses meeting up in the pub and playing a game of one upmanship?) much more reception space than MotherLogic's abode and that we maintain a good level of cleanliness and tidiness here.  That last statement sounds bitchy, but it is brutally accurate.  As ever, I digress - quite frankly, CousinLogic and his partner are a bit too intellectual for my tastes anyway - think BBC Radio 3 and obscure art galleries and you'll get the picture.  His partner is also a very highly strung woman and that always makes my poor noggin hurt.


We received an invitation through the Great British postal system today and I've accepted on behalf of me, MrLogic, MasterLogic plus the two parental Logics.  It did adhere to the six week invitation etiquette. 

Friday, 25 January 2019

Post #157 - Life Choices

Do you, like me, sometimes sit back and think "why did I make that particular life choice?"  No?  I bet people do though - it's a bit like the Sliding Doors paradox, although granted, without the character played by John Hannah quoting the same lines from a particular Monty Python sketch and unbelievably, making all of the people surrounding him howl with laughter. 

I wish that I'd done things differently at times, but it's too late to regret anything now.  I'm all grown up, more's the pity. 

Sunday, 20 January 2019

Post #156 - Dealing With Disability In The Family

Mr Logic's younger brother, Uncle Logic was born with significant physical and mental disabilities in the early 1960s - he attended a special school until the age of eighteen and then spent the time until his mid fifties in the care of my late father-in-law and mother-in-law, both of whom completely ignored his needs.  My father-in-law, whom I never met, died in the mid-1990s and my mother-in-law (Nanny Logic) cared for Uncle Logic until she fell and broke her tibia back in 2012 and never walked again, making outside intervention the only pathway.  She was, however, in her late eighties then and far too elderly to cope.

Uncle Logic always had health issues, but these were ignored for years because Nanny Logic didn't have the mental capacity and ability to understand her adult son's needs.  When I married into the family during the early 2000s I tried to make a difference, but unless she, as his main carer, was deliberately mistreating him, there was very little me and Mr Logic could do - for example, Uncle Logic once developed Bell's Palsy, which could have blinded him in one eye and it was only picked up by us when we visited one weekend.  Mr Logic took him to Moorfields Eye Hospital to ensure the condition was properly treated (with medical Botox if you're interested!)

Nanny Logic developed vascular dementia and after many years of wrangling with the social services, care agencies and all that jazz, she was placed in a local authority home which she died in at the age of ninety-one.  Vascular Dementia is a horrid condition - it slowly kills you over a four year period.  Uncle Logic was housed in a sheltered house for gentlemen with learning and physical disabilities and, a few years on, he's still there.  He has been hospitalised a few times along the way and was even in Intensive Care at various points.  There have been a few issues recently, which I won't go into here because they're on way to being solved and we really appreciate how hard the staff work in the home. 

Thursday, 17 January 2019

Post #155 - Channel 4's 'The Undateables'

After watching the 2018 Christmas Special I gave some thought to the situation and  wrote the following Tweet:

I was quite late to the party in regards to the show itself, probably because the title put me off and I thought that it may be overtly mawkish or patronising. I caught up on quite a few episodes via Channel 4's All4 online service and concentrated on the autistic participants. I felt that it was quite a good overview of how difficult people find seeking love and relationships.

As the series rolled on I started to get a bit bored with it. There seemed to be far too much emphasis on certain individuals. One guy, Richard, who has Asperger's, seemed funny at first with his inability to travel more than five miles outside of his comfort zone to meet a potential date and uttering statements about 'fucking Kent' when told of a lady's home location.  His behaviour just came across as rude and thoughtless on dates - he refused to purchase any food in the pub, but stole chips off of the lady's plate after distracting her. He also talked to an eastern European lass about Chernobyl, which came across as both crass and insensitive.

The girl with the brightly coloured hair's stimming onscreen was an uncomfortable watch, ditto her need to force hugs from people. Yes, as an Aspergian I do display certain behaviours, but I wouldn't want these magnified on TV for the viewers' entertainment.

So, I won't be watching any further episodes of The Undateables, but that's my decision. Others may take great comfort from it, but I do have a few reservations about some of the dating agencies they feature, but I won't comment further on this, lest I get myself into legal difficulties.

Wednesday, 16 January 2019

Post #154 - Rescue Cats: Simon Augustus

Finally, in this never ending mini-series concerning my feline adventures, we come to our latest incumbent: the large beautiful tabby cat whom we named Simon.  After the disaster that was Tabitha I still yearned after owning another cat, especially after Tilly's sad demise last summer.  So, in August 2018 we contacted the rescue centre and sought a cat.

I've pictured Simon above as he was when living in his pen, and named 'Cat' by his original owners (how original!) as you can see, he's a bit of a stripy stunner.  Totally gorgeous if truth be told.  At 18 months, he was a juvenile, but not a kitten and exactly what we wanted.    His backstory was that he'd been brought up in a busy crowded bustling rented family home, which was being sold and the tenants, Simon's owners, weren't permitted by the landlord to keep pets in their new accommodation.  This is an all too common tale.

Simon was very nervous of people and when we took him home, he immediately hid in the understairs cupboard and then later, under my bed.  He did, however, come up onto the bed when I was alone with him and playfully 'butt' my hand, purring like crazy and being a complete and utter sweetie.  I hadn't owned a male/gib (meaning neutered) cat since I lived with my parents and quite frankly, they're a bit nicer than their female counterparts - all of my molly cats have flirted with Mr and Master Logic and have been a bit disdainful of me.

Once he was let out in the garden, Simon started disappearing; we once walked around the block three times, knocking on people's doors, trying to locate him.  He eventually returned and was found crying in a neighbour's garden.  Initially Sophie bullied him because she's an extremely territorial cat, but once he'd built up his bulk and strength, he soon retaliated and then the problems began - they fought constantly.  We asked the Vet's advice and she suggested purchasing a a plug-in 'Feliway' diffuser to enable the cats to bond over a pleasant feline pheromone.  We tried it for two weeks or so and it didn't work, it was always Simon vs Sophie - meow, crash, thump.  He also hated my son, Master Logic, which kind of defeats the object of a family pet!

It's now six months on and things haven't improved - although it's currently January and freezing outside, Simon rarely comes into the house.  He eats and then goes on his rounds, ruling the neighbourhood with an iron paw, but, joking aside, this isn't a great status quo for any of us - human or feline.  We think that Simon may have bengal heritage and like Tabitha before him, that kind of gene mix doesn't make for a particularly suitable pet.


He was returned on Sunday, 20th January.  The lady from the cat rescue centre told us that his previous owners had adopted him as a stray - hence his wanderlust-type behaviour.  I wish we had been told all of this because it would have made me question his suitability as a family pet. 

Tuesday, 15 January 2019

Post #153 - Rescue Cats: Tabitha Mary (Tabby)

I've always yearned for a kitten, despite how difficult they can be.  My brother once owned a scrawny black and white splodgy kitten (later, a cat(!) whom he named Nigel.  I think that you'll agree that it's an odd choice of moniker, but as my brother said, "he didn't look like a Dave."  Fair dos.

Back in October 2017, When Tilly was getting older and more infirm, combined with Sophie's nervous nature, I talked Mr Logic into adopting a third cat, a kitten.  Yes, with the benefit of hindsight, it was a very stupid thing to do indeed, but what can I say?  I'm an impulsive kind of person and I just love the furry whiskery beasts (despite leaving the lion's share of care to poor old Mr Logic ...)  To facilitate getting a kitten I posted on the local branch of Cats' Protection's Facebook page to enquire whether anyone needed to give a ginger or tabby kitten a loving home.

A fortnight or so later I received a message stating that a beautiful female (queen) kitten had been taken on by CP and would I be interested in adopting her?  Well, yes, of course I would.  When we visited the rescue centre which was located in someone's private house we immediately fell in love with a tiny big eared scrap of a kitten and quite frankly, most feline fans would have.

As soon as the kitten arrived in chez Logic she was trouble.  Lively and crazy she soon started to harass poor old Sophie - Tilly seemed quite oblivious to her presence most of the time.  The jumping, snarling, biting and scratching went on for weeks - Tabitha the kitten started wrecking the household bit by bit.  One particular morning I was awoken to the sound of cats fighting on my duvet and Sophie (once again!) defecated on the cover - it was truly gross.

Tabby stayed with us for six months, but quite frankly, most days were a living hell.  We borrowed a pet cage from my parents and she had to be shut in there every night because we couldn't trust her alone in the house.  Master Logic loved her, but we were struggling.  When she knocked my glass off of the coffee table for the third time in a row I decided that I'd had enough and we contacted the rescue centre to ask what we should do.  Tabitha had been well cared for, neutered and vaccinated in our care, but she'd developed a problem with her digestive transit, meaning that her stools were both runny and pungent.

Tabitha was duly returned to Cats' Protection, it was really sad and I've honestly never seen Master Logic cry so much, but it had to be so.  Apparently the rescue lady told Mr Logic that the kitten's origins were unknown and she may have been a feral creature.  Hmm.  I'm almost sure that Tabby had been a bengal or have bengal heritage, which makes for a beautiful animal but a rubbish pet in my opinion.

Sunday, 13 January 2019

Post #152 - Rescue Cats: Sophie Margaret (Whiskers)

So, we come to my bicoloured friend, Sophie Whiskers.  I'd always hankered after owning a black and white cat, especially those Bloomsbury type ones, but after owning Tilly (qv) for many years, she inevitably got old and in late 2014 we decided to adopt another moggie to cope with the former's inevitable demise.  As ever, we're keen to give an unwanted animal a nice home, so off we toddled to the local branch of Cats' Protection.  We didn't meet with the woman we'd adopted Tilly from back in 2003, because she'd since left the organisation under a cloud (reason unknown), so we went to another lady who lived in the same postcode.

The CP lady had a huge extended semi-detached house full of cats and Sophie was in a cage near the door.  I'd especially requested a black and white animal and there she was, a cat of some ten months or so of age and cute as a button.  Her backstory was that she'd been left in a box outside a Veterinary Surgery in a less than salubrious area of south London.  She hadn't been spayed by her careless owners, but it's CP's sensible policy to neuter all pets because it improves their behaviour and most importantly, stops the spread of unwanted kittens.

Sophie soon settled into our house.  Tilly didn't really appreciate sharing her house with another cat, but was kind of old and crotchety anyway.  She occasionally clouted her around the head, which is fair enough really.  My puss started sleeping on our bed, but has defecated on it before, which was, quite frankly, bloody awful.