The Pessimism and Occasional Optimism of Juvenile Adulthood

My fish died and last night, I cried. This is not an excerpt from one of Dr Seuss' great tales but rather, a part of my life which has spilt out onto this blog for the first time since the end of my GCSEs. It was not so much the concept of death or the end of Stripey's life which caused my emotions to pour out of my eyes (he had been swimming sideways in a darkened tank in the months prior to it and he didn't deserve to live in pain). For me it was the end of continuity, the end of a constant in my life and a reminder of how I've clung so desperately onto what I am not anymore. I'm going to discuss my autism in a way I haven't done before. Not because I feel pressured or because I want to be a case study, statistic or be evoking emotion from both of my readers. I'm doing it because I don't want to live closeted by how I feel and I want there to be a greater understanding of how I work and operate and why I can be so contrasting behaviourally to many

I was fortunate enough to receive my English Language GCSE Paper 2 back and with marks back. As it happened, my mock newspaper article was rather well received and I scored in the highest band of marks. So I'm going to repost it here, unedited, to share to the wider world. This was written on a cold Friday morning in my school's sports hall and it took me 45 mins. It's therefore far from perfect but I'm happy with it nonetheless. Enjoy... My exam question was as follows: 'All Sport should be fun, fair and open to everyone. These days, sport seems to be more about money, corruption and winning at any cost'  Write a newspaper article explaining your point of view on this statement. Avery Brundage was a keen advocate of amateurism, the belief that sport should be a hobby and not corrupted by commercialisation. Yet he was also president of the International Olympic Committee in the post-war world for over 20 years. Brundage was a principled man. It'

Any one who knows me will know that I predominantly despise most modern music. My music taste typically tends to predate my presence on this planet and, as such, my Spotify contains a playlist devoted entirely to music of this millennia. Yet this makes up only around 30% of all of my songs. Most of this playlist only features an artist once or twice at6 most and I seldom follow an artist with great passion or interest. Yet I have two exceptions. One is Christine and the Queens, the French singer whose song writing ability in 2 languages is beyond extraordinary. However, the second is a young Norwegian singer whose music and lyrics have created a new sub-genre of synth-pop. Oh and she's bilingual   I first heard Sigrid's music when she appeared on BBC Breakfast, shortly after winning the corporation's Sound of 2018 award.  What stood out from her track Strangers was the instant beat combined with synthesising. Most of my music on my 'Millennia' playlist featu

What I owe to Gavin McCallum There are many reasons why I went to my first Hereford game, in the February of 2009. Previously, as a young soul, I didn’t even enjoy football and when my dad abandoned me at my Aunt’s house as he headed onward to the Street, I would often pass on my best wishes for the opposing team, not through any malice but just because I didn’t understand why we commuted so far West every other weekend to watch 22 people kick leather out of each other. The rational part of me still doesn’t quite know why but passion, rather than a parent’s pestering has since motivated me to shout, scream and yell for the mighty Whites. The main reason my mind was finally changed was my dad telling me that during pre-season Hereford had signed a new winger, a Canadian named Gavin McCallum, a man who was once ranked highly enough to play for his country, but lowly enough to now be plying his trade for Welling in the Conference South. How times have changed. I’d be lying if I s

The best way to become a writer and journalist is to write, so that's what I've done. Having previously written analysis and news pieces for this blog, most notably for last year's London to Paris cycle ride, I had the chance earlier this year to write a match report for Bulls News . And in recent months, I was offered the chance to start writing for Talking Bull magazine and I have since been asked to become a regular contributor. So, I now have permission to start publishing my articles on here to maintain my portfolio of writings all in one place. So what better way to start things off with TWO articles which made it into my first issue. Firstly, a tribute to former Hereford manager Peter Beadle, who in my opinion was harshly dismissed last month: Peter Beadle: A tribute... I'm a believer in context. I often feel we must look back at the past to better understand the present and where exactly we could go in the future. So let's try and put some ba

Simon Yates' victory in La Vuelta is a brilliant achievement and rightly deserved after falling so agonisingly short at the Giro in May.  However, I feel greater attention should be payed to someone else who stood on the podium in Madrid. A rider who has been around longer than the Yates brothers and a rider whose effort in recent years has been largely unnoticed by the wider world in recent years.  Thomas De Gendt's career could've gone in many different directions. In 2012, the 25 year old Belgian had kept himself in contention in the Giro d'Italia, only his second ever Grand Tour. De Gendt later attributed this to being incredibly light at the time, weighing nearly 60kg by the time the race reached Milan. And secondly, due to an incredible breakaway victory on stage 20 followed by a strong time trial the following day. Until that point, De Gendt had only appeared in the top 10 on 2 stages and was over 5 minutes behind the GC contenders. As such, the B

The European Adventure I referred to in my previous article has taken us through France, the Low Countries, Germany, and Denmark before reaching our final destination - Angsbacka in Sweden (Slightly north of Karlstadt for those of you wondering). We were there for a ‘No Mind’ festival, lasting a week with the theme centred around love. I want to avoid the use of generalisations so I’m going to refrain from using the term ‘hippie’. Also, ‘hippie’ carries connotations of long straggly hair and drugs and Angsbacka has a strict zero tolerance policy - on drugs not straggly hair. Based on my experience of the No Mind festival,  I want to express my feelings towards this culture and where it fits in in this modern world and what future it has. So here goes nothing... One of the great satisfactions of Angsbacka was the openness. Every day for an hour there was the chance to open up and share your feelings or accounts with both friends and strangers all whilst maintaining a confide

I’m going to attempt to write this entire post whilst both on a train and waiting at the Arrivals lounge for my beloved father, who for the rest of this article, I will affectionately refer to as ‘Dad’. I want to discuss, rather than the transport service I’m experiencing on this muggy July evening, the lives and mindsets of the people on the train. As the name suggests, public transport encompasses people from many different walks of life who are being transported to varying locations for even more varied purposes. It is the mannerisms of the people I witness on this train which fascinate me. This train to Stansted Airport from Birmingham was very busy, unexpected for me as I assumed a train in the late evening would be largely devoid of the purposeful workers with tasks to complete and errands to tick off. I assumed this train would contain a mere handful of the semi-retired heading to the airport for a holidaying adventure before the youth would finish their education and finish any

This review is being written having completed 19 of my 24 exams ** in the hall dreaded by so many. This is in addition to Speaking exams in Language and practical assessments in GCSE PE and Drama. I want to give an end of year report on the end of education as we know it and how the future generations may look back on our experiences, in 2 separate parts. So here goes... ** Though by the time this article is finished, all exams are completed and a flight to Greece awaits! ------------PART ONE - An Overview-----------  After several mock exams and much content crammed into our cerebral cortexes, exams began with quite a whimper: Religious Studies. Our R.E department had never been of the highest quality nor a faculty for the school to be proud of. As such, if it wasn't for our head of department's insistence, the entire year would've been entered into the short course. Not even a complete GCSE. In the end we didn't even study a complete course with our ti

When I got back from Iceland, I was in awe of the land in its wonder and natural beauty. I have finally managed to compose my thoughts and this article was first published on Facebook. This was written the day after arrival back in our Kingdom. I have since expanded upon it and here are my thoughts... So I have now been back in our United Kingdom for just under a day and how I miss it already! Most of the conversations I've had today have revolved around my time in the republic for it was an experience like none other. Yesterday, after a morning swimming in a geothermal swimming pool, we went into Reykjavik to explore the capital city - though capital town sounds more fitting. We journeyed past the 'White House' where Reagan and Gorbachev signed the nuclear deal before vi siting the Icelandic Opera House and the famous pillared church which I can't spell, with a stop at the Althing on the way, while visiting the statues of the nation's se