I am a teenage boy with so-called special needs. Primarily those are: I need to eat (a lot), I like plenty of exercise or I get really bored, I grunt instead of talking, I’m not much of a reader, I’m not too big on personal hygiene, I don’t like being too hot or too cold and I like playing with my… well… y’know… so I’m pretty much like every other teenage boy.

I live with a dysfunctional little group I’d hesitate to describe in terms as grand as a ‘family’. There’s Smiley, Frowny, Flower Girl and Curly Top – thoughts of them sounding like rejected cast-members from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs are not so far from the truth.

There’s also a whole troupe of ‘companions’ (I’m not sure if we’re still allowed to use the word ‘carers’, and anyway this makes me sound more like Dr. Who) who are apparently there to entertain me and be at my constant beck and call. I hear not everyone has this courtesy, but I can highly recommend it.

In fact, as I look around me I see there are lots of ways in which I can help people with the benefit of my autobiographical anecdotes. On the whole I think everyone works too hard and worries too much; in my experience of putting in as little effort as possible I still find that people bring me food at regular intervals, provide all the clothes I need, take me wherever I need to go and generally go out of their way to indulge me.

So I dedicate this blog to all those of you who are trying too hard in life.

Slow down. Sit Back. Relax.

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