Do ‘bass tones’ deminish penis size????

I can’t deny it. Today has taken stress to highs that I haven’t experienced in a lot of years. My eldest, The Captain, has returned to college after two years of home schooling. ‘Normal’ school (at senior level) failed him abysmally. Empty promises of support and understanding (of autism) fell to the floor like autumn leaves. A honeymoon period of two weeks swiftly disintegrated into what was, to put it mildly, a living hell. 

He was effectively punished for being autistic. Any ‘support’ served only one purpose… to get him to fit  their box. Would we ever do this with someone who had diabetes type 1? Would we repremand them for having a hypo? Pressure them into ‘just trying’ stuff in order to wean themselves off their condition? Of course not! Its a fucking ridiculous suggestion. And yet this approach is taken by so many schools across the UK.

He lasted 3 months before I pulled him out. The school mysteriously not being able to find the CCTV that would have shown him being attacked was the final straw after a concentrated catalogue of disasters. And it’s been a good move in many ways on the whole. It turned out the home ed community is massive. HUGE! It’s also diverse. Tolerant. Open minded. Welcoming. 

My son had friends for the first time in his life!

However, despite all the good times we’ve had over the past couple of years, he has been desperate to try a more conventional education again. Even though every bone in my body says “No”, I have to at least allow him to try. Fortunately we have been able to track down a dedicated home-ed geared class. Maximum of 16 students. Tutors that are educated and aware of conditions such as autism. At his assessment I was over the moon to find our efforts across the kitchen table had given him a progression that is almost a year ahead his average peer group; it made all the blood, sweat and tears worthwhile; especially considering that his former school had all but written him off as far as the acquisition of any future qualifications was concerned.

I have everything crossed.

 And so this morning, at 9.10am I dropped him off at central college. I felt so sick. I still do. I’m convinced he will at least die ,if not worse, without me to take care of him … Someone needs to invent elasticated apron strings. I’m not ready for this. Aside all my fears for him, the morning was never going to be one filled with rainbows and unicorns. We have to drive 90 minutes to get him there. There is no other provision any closer. Nada. If we aren’t in the car for just gone 7, we won’t make it. Driving through Nottingham at the best of times is shitty, and at rush hour when you don’t know where the hell you are going, it’s nightmare-level.  Add into that, the google sat-nav bitch ( yes bitch!) sending us on a 10 minute detour to bring us to the same fucking roundabout we’d been 5 yards away from before she flipped; me taking the wrong slip road and landing in the middle of the worst traffic jam in the history of all mankind ( I’m not exaggerating…. It really was that bad…. Infact if anything I’m probably playing it down… I’m still quite stressed… Does it show?); and then we had to sit behind Mr Dickhead  of The Century  for fucking ever, at the traffic lights. There’s something quite sad about middle aged men who drive around in old, badly pimped up VWs with a sound system the same size as a small bungalow stuffed into their boot, thinking they’re cool.

 You fucking aren’t!!!

The only reason we are all staring at you is to try and get your attention so you might notice that your base is on so full that you are making are sodding gums bleed you stupid twat!!! I can only presume that loud bass at that level, in those circumstances, is the poor mans penis-envy.

<And breathe>

It was a special moment. Autistic child already having a melt down because of traffic/ lateness/ new college/ life/ fucking everything…. And then we got to add Mr Dicksplash and His Amazing Bass into the equation.

He finishes at 2.30 this afternoon. I’m not leaving the area; just in case. So I’m sat here, comfort eating, in a little arty cafe place. Its not lunch time yet and I’m already one slice of carrot cake, on slice of lemon drizzle and one lemon-posset in ( except it’s not proper lemon posset… And that’s pissed me off too!)

So apologies for the ranting and raving today. And also the typos. And the swearing. Fury-typing is incredibly difficult on a telephone screen. No one ever got promoted to key-board warrior via the front of a LG Curve or what ever the hell it is I’ve got these days. 

And just for the record… ‘British government’, you are fucking failing autistic kids all over this country. By the thousands. The Conservatives, Labour and that crock of shit we had in the middle. Totally failing them!! 

Okay… Can someone bring me more pudding…. I need more pudding…. 


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