The Session #144 - Idle Hands Are The Green Devil's Playthings

So, along with my other things resurrected during lockdown madness, The Session (Beer Blogging Friday) is back.  I didn't participate too often in it back in the day, but as with a lot of people now, I have the time. So thanks to Alistair at fuggled.net  for this topic - "Basically,  tell us where you are at." And I know it's Saturday now here in the UK, but I only finished work at midnight.  It's still Friday somewhere, surely?

Me?  I'm probably coping a lot better than some.  It isn't the lockdown that gets me down.  No, being autistic means I have very good self-reliance and have the ability to find entertainment for myself.  YouTube videos, looking up stuff I'm interested in, browsing eBay etc. etc.  A lot of people would find this dull and lacking in social stimuli, but I'm ok with it.

Fun times

Work is a different matter.  Not only am I a "key worker", I'm one of those "key workers" who has to go out and deal with the public every day.  Some of whom may be carrying COVID-19 and not especially diligent about social distancing while out shopping.  To be honest, it's a relief to get home and shut the door and not have to worry about someone leaning over me and coughing.  Though on the plus side, I've never seen so many happy faces when I push a trolley-load of flour towards the Home Baking section.

Thankfully, as I work in a shop, I can make sure I get the stuff I want.  Mainly Oakham Green Devil, Grant's whisky, and McVities digestives.  As I've said many times over the last six weeks, you have to cling onto your small pleasures now, as it's pretty much all you have left.  I have a routine now.  Get up, go to work at 3pm, finish at midnight, crack open a few Green Devils while making today's version of Mexican food with whatever ingredients I've found, have large whisky and go to bed.  Repeat for the last month.

"How do you cope?" With this. LIKE OBVS.

Am I missing pubs?  Yes, the chance to go out the pubs of Preston on Sunday and Monday was one of the things that got me through the weekful of retail nonsense that supermarkets are these days.   I miss sitting outside Plug & Taps waiting for it to open at 1pm, then spending 3 hours drinking and talking complete bollocks for the 3 hours, before moving onto the Black Horse and consuming unwisely strong beer, then going to Vinyl Tap and making them put Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass's Going Places on the turntable, before finally having my final pint at the Moorbrook which I may even vaguely remember.  Yeah, I miss that.

How do you fill the time freed up by not doing very much?  Well, stuff that previously seemed silly eventually starts sounding like a good idea.  Hey, it's a sunny Sunday!  Why not do a video of me sitting in my back garden drinking Buckfast while "The Mexican Shuffle" plays from an 80s cassette boombox?  Yeah, why not?  I'd never have done that had I been out at the pub that day, or watching the IndyCar race from Circuit Of The Americas at Wings & Beer Co.   This lockdown is going to carry on for a good few weeks, so who knows what kind of bizarre, dubious nonsense my brain will start conjuring up?  Stay tuned.

I'll be fine.  I've not drunk myself to death, died of boredom, or caught the Corona (despite the best efforts of some of my customers and colleagues).  I can deal with waiting.  The only frustration is the uncertainty...

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.