On Autism & People (Part 1 of 2)

In my initial preparation for this post, I asked around on Twitter about what people's perception of Autism Spectrum Disorders was.  Based on the answers I got, it seems to be either Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory, or cute little kids lining up coloured objects on the floor.  Not exactly accurate depictions, but at least people seem to have moved on from the whole Rain Man stereotype.

I'd say it's reasonably common knowledge to those who know me online that I've been diagnosed with an ASD (fairly late in my case, at 32 back in 2008).  Some have even sought to ascribe my alleged "dick" behaviour on it.  I'm not aware of having made such claims for myself - I may say and do things that others may not like, but I've never sought to "blame" it on Autism.

But obviously having an ASD does affect my life in some ways - so what are they?

I do prefer to spend a lot of my time alone. Dealing with people is awkward for me.  I'm better at it than I was twenty years ago, but there's an awful lot I'm still unable to understand.  It's not easy having to slowly and painfully work out the rules of social interaction as an adult that most people have completely mastered by the age of nine.  And I still get a lot wrong even now.

I learned long ago that saying the first thing you think of in reply to someone is usually a bad idea.  And having had many bad reactions from people having done this, I've learned a full range of facial expressions that (hopefully) are less likely to annoy and upset people.  I'm aware that this can make conversation with me unsatisfying, but believe me it's far easier than the alternative.

The pub is the ideal place to interact with people for me.  I barely know most of the people in them, and as such they have few expectations of me.  I've always found that if you get too close, people start telling you things about them that you'd rather not know.  One major characteristic of ASDs is an inability to deal with emotions in a "typical" way, and, although I know I should be expressing something emotional, I'm very rarely able to do it.  This presents more awkwardness as people think I'm ignorant or cold when I don't react in the way they expect me to.  So I avoid these things where ever possible. "Don't get involved" is my axiom.

Of course, contrary to popular perception, those with ASDs do have emotions.  We may not be able to deal with them "properly", but we do have them.  As a child, these mostly manifested themselves for me as temper tantrums, which got me a certain reputation at school and at home.  Looking back, a lot of these things were classic autistic behaviour, but children were rarely tested for ASDs in the 1980s.  I have a better handle on emotions now (as I should at 42), but there are still things that set me off.  The main one for me is being ignored, or unjustly accused of things.  I always react badly to that, which, after much thought on the matter, stems from my childhood where such things happened all to frequently.  That's caused me a lot of grief in the past, and has led me to falling out with people and refusing to go to places that have "wronged" me in some way.

If only I could handle stuff better, I often think to myself, these things wouldn't happen.  But, unfortunately, that's not the brain I've been given.  As many people with ASDs will say, Autism itself is not the problem - it's how the world reacts to it that's difficult.  In a social milieu that expects demonstrable empathy, expected reactions and mutual acknowledgement, being autistic is always going to be difficult.  But not blaming those with an ASD for not reacting in "expected" ways would be a start.

Routine

I may have been here at some point

They say that travel broadens the mind. New locations and activities add to the sum of human experience,  producing a more balanced and accepting character.  On the other hand, there's me.

I have enough cash and free time available to be a serial pub botherer like Simon Everitt and Martin Taylor, but such things have little appeal to me.  Those who know me often say "You're off to THAT pub? AGAIN?".  Even the Landlord will say to me "You again? That's three days in a row, Matt."

It's true. I like familiar things.  Going somewhere new is difficult. All manner of things could possibly happen. There could be nothing on sale worth drinkingetting.  There could be angry and mentally disturbed customers. Christ, I may even run into someone from work.

It's well known that I'm a far from gregarious person.  Going to a new place with a whole new set of people to have to figure out is hard. And most of the time I don't have the energy to do so. Sometimes, I even go to an unfamiliar pub, look through the windows and think "No, not today." So, I end up in the same place every time.  Monotony has it's own rewards.

You'll pretty much find me on the same place in the same pub at the same times every week. Routine is good. Routine keeps the sanity I have left.

Mine's a pint of Milk St. See you there.

Dealing With Stuff

Easier

As I advance into my fifth decade, I know now part of getting old is realising and accepting that certain things will never happen to me.  I know now that I will never have dozens of friends, or be the life and soul of the party.  I'll never be highly-paid journalist with a bulging contacts book and I'll never be suave, socially sought-after man about town.  No, my various disorders and conditions have put paid to that.  I know now there are many things I'll never be capable of.

Such things as anxiety, depression and Asperger's are not really disabling in the sense they absolutely preclude doing anything.  But they do make things harder than they otherwise would be, and since they're "invisible", they rarely get you much sympathy unless they become completely and absolutely obvious.

Due to this, my pubgoing abilities are more limited that they otherwise would be.  I wouldn't be able to go to the Moorbrook on a day that North End are playing at home (I tell people that it'd take too long to get served, but really it's too crowded).  During a recent Meet The Brewer there, I had to leave when it proved more busy than expected (actually, I was found by someone hyperventilating against a wire fence, but never mind).  Had I been around during the "glory days" of the pub in the 1970s that Mudgie goes on about, I would probably have never gone to the pub at all.

This came up when people asked if I was going to IndyMan this year.  Quite apart from all the piss-taking I've doled out to the event over the last year, my previous experience of it was somewhat less than wonderful for me.  It's a long way to go and a lot of money to spend just to feel anxious in a public place.  I did look at all the photos on Twitter showing people having fun and felt a bit sad, but I knew that it wouldn't be the same to me.

I'm lucky in that my days off coincide with the quieter parts of the week.  There are less people to deal with, and less chance of my fumbling attempts at social interaction going badly wrong, which it frequently has.  Again, not really my fault, but try explaining that to those who know nothing about it.  So generally now, I sit on my own.  With electronic diversions, it's far less tedious than it used to be.

By this point, I'm sure you're wondering "Then why does he go out at all?".  Fairly easy to answer. If you have recurrent mental health problems, being stuck in the middle of the same walls, seeing the same things and listening to the same sounds over and over and over again, well, it does your head in, basically,  If you stay in your house too long, it's well documented that mood gradually lowers and you become isolated and less able to function in the world when it confronts you.

Oh dear. Not my best night

This "social muscle" needs to be exercised, but I have to be careful not to strain it.  My followers on Twitter have probably observed this,  If I've overloaded my capacity for human interaction for that week, I generally have a meltdown and curse the existence of everything.  It's then I declare a "people free day" and stay in.

It's a fine balance, and I frequently fall off.  Despite everything, I'm only human.  I get it wrong often, but I'm finding self-management easier than I did 20 years ago.  I can understand why people consider me a bit peculiar because I don't act in "expected" ways, but I generally find ways to defuse or avoid any difficulties.  Occasionally, I've got into real trouble (such as here), but probably no more than any other pubgoer, even if the reasons are different.

So, if you ever happen to be in Preston (or unlikelier places for me) and I'm on own in a corner in a pub with my tablet and a pint, I'm not setting out deliberately to ignore you, disconcert you or offend you.  I'm just doing what I can cope with at that moment.

And if you think any difference, then I'm sorry. For you, mainly.

Not For Everyone

Serious blogging for serious times taken seriously

I recently noticed I'd been deleted from a famous beer blog's blog roll, and unfollowed on Twitter by their blog's account.  I pondered this for a while, as this blog can't be any worse, more irrelevant or updated less frequently than some of the blogs that they still link to.

On Twitter (I still follow them, for what it's worth) they said they stop read blogs they see basically as dead wood.  Mildly insulting, I would have thought, but you can't please everyone.  I've observed this before about the more "serious" end of the beer blogging spectrum - irreverence is unwelcome.  This blog, with it's combination of piss-taking and off-kilter observations on pub culture, doesn't treat the "scene" with the seriousness it "deserves", apparently.

Judging from the comments I get, my blog's readership seems to skew towards the over-50s.  Not sure why, as I don't see what I do as particularly codger-friendly.  Maybe the older generation have lived long enough not to be so earnest about something as trivial as pubs and beer.  Plus, they're rarely seeking to make a living out of it.

If you've got a book to write, a column to pen, or (god help you) "content" to generate for a industry company, then you probably think you shouldn't be seen as frivolous.  In the gig economy, you're only as good as your last performance.  Being involved in that way, it seems, is serious business.

As for me and my stuff, I am (to quote a great man) serious about what I do, but not neccesarily the way I do it.  I'm sure I'm often seen as being rude about people and things for the sake of it.  There is a bit of that, yes.  I like a cheap laugh as much as anyone.  But, despite the endless promotions about "awesomeness" and "beer people are good people", there is (as with pretty much everything else in the world) an awful lot of nonsense and stupidity.  Sometimes when I point this out, it wins me few friends, but as it's one of the few talents I possess, I have to do it anyway.

I can see that those making beer have to be serious about it.  Many things can go wrong with brewing, so you have to treat the whole process with a certain level of gravitas.  Selling and marketing the stuff, too - people's livelihoods rely on making money by getting stuff out there and through the till or handpump.  But appreciating beer?  Surely the point is to enjoy it, not turn it into list-making, box-ticking academic exercise?

As, I always say - I treat the Beer Industry and Everything Involved In It with all the seriousness it deserves.

In Praise of the Deserted Pub

Busier than the usual Monday afternoon, then?

The Public House.  I'm sure my readers here are well acquainted with the concept.  Some more than others, and some a lot more than they should be.  Theoretically, anybody can walk in and stay there providing they obey the rules both written and unspoken.

It's well known that pubs are likely to be busier at some times than others.  This is what's behind the ever increasing phenomenon of Monday Closing, much bemoaned by regular drinkers and travelling pub bloggers.  Few people go out on a Monday, having blown their disposable cash at the weekend.  So, if you find somewhere (apart from Spoons, obviously) that is actually open at that time, you are likely to be the only customer.

Working an atypical shift pattern (retail), Monday is my day off so I see plenty of this.  Not known for my sociable tendencies, I prefer it this way,  If you're sufficiently bored enough to compare this blog's posting dates with the calendar, you'll see a lot of them are posted on a Monday.  As I find there are too many distractions at home, I go to a pub 20 miles away I know will be deserted and write the blog there where I know I'll get some peace.

I can deal with a certain level of custom, but once I find I can't move easily or my potential escape route is blocked, I get anxious.  One notorious incident of this happened a few weeks back when (stupidly) I decided to go to a Meet The Brewer event at the local.  Apparently, I was last spotted propped up against a wire fence next to the A6, breathing heavily and trying to calm myself down. And sadly, the alcohol wasn't helping.

As a realist, I know that if pubs always had my preferred level of population, the trade as a whole would be completely unviable.  There's no money in catering to the social needs of misanthropes and hermits. Humans (I'm told) are a social species and generally seek each other out, sometimes for networking and mating opportunties, but mostly to fill in the time before death that would otherwise be spent staring at the wall or arguing with family.

I like being alone. Less potential for hassle or grief.  Going to a pub, therefore, maybe considered pecualiar for someone like me.  But as a long-time observer, I can pick my times when I'm going to be comfortable.  And also, you get to see what happens in the pub when the staff know nobody's going to see it, which helps for blog research purposes.

So, if you ever wonder about a pub opening early on a quiet day and think "Bloody hell, what's the point of that, then?" then consider that, maybe, some people prefer it that way,

Three Years

I don't remember why I started this blog. It was a long time ago. Maybe I was drunk at the time. Anyway, everyone else seemed to be doing it.

Unlike other people who do their stuff using aliases, personae and pseudonyms, all mine goes out under my own name.  I have no worries about people finding out my views about the beer industry and the people who inhabit it.  I'm unlikely to work in the industry myself for many reasons, mainly due to my inability to cultivate contacts and general lack of motivation and interest in other people.

As it is, I only get 3000 hits a month so it's doubtful anyone powerful spends a great deal of time here.  But that's a good thing. It means I can say pretty much anything I like, as long as it doesn't turn out to be libellous.

If I've learned anything about blogging in the last three years, it's that most people take piss taking in good spirit as long as you're not excessively mean or cruel. A couple of people have taken offence in the past, but if (as they say) they're aiming to be Serious Beer Journalists, then they'll have to deal with a lot worse than a scarcely-read Blogger making fun of them. For example, I doubt that, say, BrewDog has lost a single sale through what I've written about them, or Matt Curtis had an event cancelled through my "news" about "Curt Mattis".

I've always seen myself as somewhat apart from the rest of humanity, so it's only natural that I'll be somewhat apart from the beer blogosphere. No doubt I could get more exposure by doing beer reviews, and talking up breweries and bars. I don't, mainly because I'd be hopeless at it. I'm a crap liar. But if I did that, what would differentiate me from all the other blogs out there? I don't get freebies (apart from trade tickets to IndyManBeerCon, which I presume now will not be repeated), so I don't have to worry about disclosure. In other words, I'm free.

So, if you ever wonder about something I've written that seems inappropriate, harsh or just silly, it's because I'm trying to make a point about something. It's not personal. I barely know anybody in the Beer Industry.  I just think some things need to be pointed out, and as piss-taking is the only real talent I possess, that's going to be the way I'll do it.

After all, Beer is meant to be fun. Isn't it?

Why?

Average scene in average pub

People often ask me why I'm such a miserable bastard who feels the need to mock everything and everybody, regardless of whether their intentions are good or bad. Usually I give a facetious answer about being History's Greatest Monster or that the world is stupid and I don't need to do anything but type what I see in front of me. But there are other reasons.

Throughout my life, and with forty years to go on I think I have a reasonable sample, I've been an outsider looking in, never been able to truly connect with other people. I once had an ex-girlfriend who admitted to me feeling the same, and she burst into tears afterwards.  I suppose it depends on how much you want to be connected with other people, really. Life has taught me that trying is usually a bad idea.

How you feel about things if you have Asperger's Syndrome is difficult to explain. The very nature of the condition precludes you being able to due to a trait called alexithymia - basically, an inability to identify and describe emotions. The way I always try to describe is that "normal" people have emotions like a box of loose rubber bands, and can take the appropriate band for each situation. An alexithymic, however, has the same amount of rubber bands but in a ball, all knotted together. And you can't do a thing with them.

Having the same amount of emotions, but no way to discharge them can be difficult.  A common way to deal with it is substance use, and this is quite probably the reason why I'm often found on the relevant end of a glass, bottle or can. It can, unfortunately, let too many emotions out at once, as those poor sods who used to be my Facebook friends can attest to. Perversely, the advantage of alexithymia is that the emotions become inaccessible again once you sober up. So all you have to do is delete the posts/tweets or whatever and carry on as normal.

"But Matthew," you say "If you find people and emotions so difficult, then why are you in the pub so often?".  You'd think such things were contradictory, yes, but they aren't really. In a pub, you don't interact with others on a particularly deep level.  You talk about the beer, the crap that's happened in town during the last week or even, God help you, the News. It's not the place for intimate emotional discussions, and it's all the better for it.  I can talk to strangers about pretty much anything, because I don't have to connect with them and most importantly, am not expected to.

This is why I don't go out with work colleagues. With them, you've already gone through the initial introductions and pointless chat, and have to talk about somnething else. And with most of them not being as experienced at drinking in public as me, inappropriate things can happen.

I have to see these people five days a week. I don't want to see them getting pissed and lairy.  I don't want to hear them bitching about someone once that person is out of earshot. I certainly don't want to know who exactly is shagging who. This is why I drink in pubs I know they'd never be seen in or even find.

I'm a single man, but I don't go to pubs to pick up women.  If I was going for that, I wouldn't go to the places I do, populated as they are by men over 50.  I'm past all that now. When I tell people I'll likely be single for the rest of my life, other people tell me it's a scary thing to think. No, putting all your trust in another person, with all it's emotional and financial implications, knowing they could betray you at any minute because something "better" comes along. No, that's scary.

For me, the whole "beer appreciation" thing is just a side effect of being in the pub, not, so I'm led to believe, the other way around as it is for most beer Blogger types. I can tell good from bad, but would doubtless fail every sensory test going.  I take the piss out of the whole scene because it's easy. Beer Fandom provides more than enough material for even the moderately talented satirist. I'll never make a penny out of it, but if it gives people some cheap laughs, then that's good enough for me.

I will always be distant from the rest of humanity. The beer smooths the rough edges off dealing with it. The Asperger's is with me for life, but thankfully the consequences aren't.

Do others need people. I don't.

EvilKegFest 2015

Drinkin' the Evil Keg #12

I write this to not to say that IndyManBeerCon is awful, because it isn't. I write this to say that I am no good at it.

In retrospect, maybe a crowded event in an echoey disused swimming baths wasn't the best option for my personal comfort, but you can't say I don't try.

As I admitted before the event, I'm not really a social bunny.  While I saw many "Beer Communicators" going to every table and chatting away to whomever looked like they were involved in Brewing (and possibly blocking the way for people who just wanted a Beer), that's not really the way I operate. I don't possess the requisite social skill to carry that off without awkwardness or embarrassment.

Due to sheer amount of people and noise, I was quite anxious for the majority of the three hours I was there. Pictured in the above photo was one of the few spots I could actually stay still for a few seconds without having to move for somebody. But not for long.

On the plus side, the beer was very good (or at least the ones I had were), and the people who recognised me ("No, I'm somebody else with a porno tache and paisley shirt" etc.) were nice, even if some were probably put off by my awkward and nervous body language (I'm told I do that).

This has been difficult to write, and I'm sorry I've not been as gushingly positive as everyone else who went has been. For what it's worth, on the way back to Oxford Road Station, I stopped off at the Lass O'Gowrie and had a pint of Greene King. So you can say I've already been punished.

If I'm not honest about these things, what's the point of this blog?

The Important Service

Possibly idealised depiction

A pub is many things. Most people just see it as a place to buy alcoholic beverages more expensively yet more socially acceptable than the local Tesco. Many people reading this would also say that it's where you go to get that beer you've heard about served in the manner it's supposed to be, on draught or handpump.  Some would even say that it's where desperate alcoholics go so their body is found when their liver finally catastrophically fails.

But no, all these reasons, while important, are ultimately incidental.

Imagine - you're somewhat socially inept. (You may not think you are, but research has shown people overestimate their abilities in pretty much every field). You want to figure out how to deal more easily with people but lack an obvious outlet. At work, everyone is busy. Looking at cat videos online if not at actual work, anyway. Coffee shops are more relaxed, but everyone there is permanently ensconced in their own personal latte bubble.

So, where else but the pub? Small locals during early afternoons are best, and as a bonus they serve stuff that, in small quantities, can relieve immediate anxiety. There's usually at least two or three people there, so you don't feel either massively exposed or horribly crowded. And the barperson can hear your drink order too.

Don't expect miracles on your first visit. They won't know you from a casual coming in for a quick pint. It usually takes seven or eight visits for them to know both your face and your name simultaneously.  At this point, you can joke about the drinks offering that the pubco insists they sell in preference to better stuff. It's a cheap laugh, but it breaks the ice.

Here's the important bit. Always keep it light. Never get too deep about personal issues or politics. This is where disagreement or awkwardness can occur. Going to the pub is meant to be fun and relaxing, so make sure to avoid anything that can make things difficult. Don't get too close to "people down the pub". That defeats the object.

Imagine it like The Sims. You have a Social Bar that goes up and down with good or bad social interaction. The trick is to keep it up to a reasonable level without it going to far, and ending up doing something that exceeds your level of social skills. If you do so, things will go badly wrong very quickly, and you'll have to start from scratch somewhere else.

The mantra of this blog, as I'm sure you know by now is " Beer and Pubs are meant to be fun". Don't think too deeply about either your drinks or your fellow patrons. Go with the flow. Don't work too hard. You will be accepted if you don't go over the boundaries. So keep well away from them.

A few pints and light conversation. It's what pubs were meant for.

Normal Service Resumed Tomorrow

I'm not the most social of bunnies, I'll admit. I was asked recently if if Craft Beer helped relieve the rollercoaster that my up and down moods consist of. I said no, I just like drinking and talking about it.

"We can tell." they said.

It's just something I have to live with. I usually go to the Lancaster Tap House quiz night on Monday. Sadly, I'd had two "episodes" that week, so I thought best to restrict my consumption. I believe I broke the record for Dandelion & Burdock drinking that day.

I know alcohol is a depressant. Sadly, so do the people on my Facebook feed when I have a meltdown when pissed. I know something bad has happened the next day when they ask me if I want to meet up for a coffee to talk about things. I'm grateful. I really am. But I'd rather not put myself and other people through it.

It's very hard work, being surrounded in a pub by people laughing and having fun, and all you want to do is crawl into bed and die. You headed out with the best of intentions and it all went wrong. It's nobody's fault, you just have to watch out and do what's necessary to stay safe.

Winston Churchill said "I have taken more out of drink than drink has taken out of me". I wish I could say the same. Alcohol has been good to me, but also it's been not so good sometimes.

I keep on going. It's all I can do.