It’s Fucken Monday. I don’t have a story I feel like working on at the moment, so I use my morning shift to catch up with some diary entries. I get to work and face a day of many, many meetings–not helped by the realisation that my favourite coffee place is closed for the week. Backup coffee place is ok, but it’s not the same. I’ve also been lax in my food preparations: my lunch is described as a “sad looking bit of chicken” by a colleague. She’s not wrong.

The highlight at the end of the day is a seminar entitled “What schools need to know about autism”, which is being delivered by two friends of mine who have done an incredible job of raising their two autistic children and are exactly the sort of people who should be out there telling everyone how it’s done. I’ve been wanting to attend one of their presentations for a long time, and it just so happens that they’ve scheduled this one at the University where I work. It’s a tremendous presentation: moving, enlightening, inspiring. I’m so proud to know these people.

I get home late. The kinderbesten have already eaten, courtesy of their mother. I make soup and tuck in once bedtime has been taken care of. I entertain idle thoughts about watching TV, but once again fail to do it, opting for an early night instead.