Saturday 9 July 2016

Blob Thing Tastes Some Alphabetti, Theatre Not Spaghetti


Blob Thing's person was going out again.  On her own.  She was heading off to the opening of a bookshop in a little theatre situated in a basement.  She was feeling very nervous about the whole thing and almost decided that leaving the house would be too much that day.

Blob wasn't going to put up with this and he called out to her, "Hey, wait there, I will come and see it too and I'll look after you."  Blob's person had been tempted to visit the theatre for a while but it was too daunting for her to go when it was full of people.  She had tried once and got as far as the entrance before having to turn back.

She had almost been put off ever visiting the place by a "joke" in the little brochure that gave details of what was happening there.  It said of the theatre bar that the people running it depended on people's alcoholism to survive.  In the opinion of Blob's person that's not just a bad joke, it's not any kind of joke at all.  She felt sickened by it.  In Blob's person's opinion - and Blob's too now that he's had the word explained to him - people's alcoholism is not something to joke about.  Encouraging alcoholics to come and drink at a bar is evil.  Throwing guilt on them that the business will collapse if they don't go and drink there is more evil.  Blob is sure that the person who wrote the "joke" wasn't thinking straight and doesn't actually want alcoholics to return to drinking by coming to their bar.  But they should have at least considered their words.

Blob doesn't believe alcoholism is a joke.  Blob's person has told him about people she knows who have nearly died because of it.  They have suffered terrible circumstances because of a terrible addiction.  Others have died of it.  She told him that recovery for an alcoholic is hard work.  Relentless work.  And that there is no such thing as an ex-alcoholic.  It's not a joke.  Blob wants to say that any attempt at humour that relies on an encouragement for alcoholics to drink alcohol is at the very least misguided.  Some may say that Blob and his person should relax - it's just a joke.  And in a way maybe it was just a joke.  That's true.  But in other ways a joke can't be dismissed as just a joke.  In other ways jokes can damage people.  It's just a joke.  It's just banter.  Blob says, no.  It isn't.

Blob's person had decided to move past the failed joke in the programme brochure.  There might be things at the theatre that she wanted to see.  And going there on that day would be much quieter than going in an evening so would be much less overwhelming for her.  In any case, there was also a little bookshop to see.  And there was the offer of free tea and cake.

She was very anxious, even with cake on offer.  Very anxious indeed.  And, in all seriousness, she was very glad that Blob had volunteered to accompany her.  She felt very proud of Blob because he can find things overwhelming too.  It's good to have a companion like Blob.  [Blob dictated that sentence.  Word for word.  He's not being arrogant about it.  It's just the truth, and Blob generally tells the truth even when that might get him in trouble.]

Blob and his person arrived at the theatre and looked in the entrance.  The steps down to the basement looked impossibly daunting.  Scary.  Scary.  Blob's person desperately wanted to turn back and would have done had it not been for Blob's encouragement.  Blob believes in his person.  She can sometimes to a lot more than she thinks she can and she can sometimes overcome terrible panic and anxiety and get things done.

Together they stepped into the theatre.  It was tiny.  There was a bar area with a couple of tables.  There was the theatre itself with maybe forty seats maximum and probably a lot fewer.  And there was a back room with some seats and some shelves of books.

It was also quite quiet.  There was a person at the bar.  There was a person by the books, with cake to give away.  And there were three other people there in total.  Blob's person relaxed a little and was pleased to find that she knew one of those three people already from a mindfulness group she had attended for a while.


She had been forced to stop attending because of her very literal mind.  The group included guided body scans.  They were good things but the language used by the group leader was difficult for such a literal person.  "Imagine yourself sinking into the mats.  Imagine the floor is swallowing you."  Blob Thing has to laugh at that but he's got quite a literal mind too and accepts that he would be scared at the prospect of being swallowed by the floor.  Blob's person says that she hasn't completely given up on mindfulness.  In fact she started a book about it just a few hours before joining Blob for the writing of this post.

Blob Thing wonders whether mindfulness or some other form of meditation would be good for him.  He can already sit still for long periods and can allow his mind to be silent too.  He thinks that maybe he is already meditating without knowing that was what he was doing.  Or not doing.  Maybe Blob should be the teacher and his person be the student.



Blob and his person sat in the bar for a while and drank their tea.  The person Blob's person knew kept talking and knew one of the other people and she kept talking too.  It was probably all very interesting but Blob was by this time feeling more anxious than his person.  He knew that she was sitting there making every effort to be social and trying to put on an appearance of being a relaxed creature.  He thought she was putting on an impressive show.

But Blob couldn't quite do it and he retreated into his person's bag and sat there in the dark for a while, rocking.  That helped him no end.  He felt more centred.  By rocking in the dark everything seemed to possess far more cohesion.  His anxiety faded and he was able to step back out of the bag.  Autism is hard work.  Very hard work.  Even for those people who are mainly able to put on a good show to the world.

Blob and his person finished their tea and went to look at the books for sale.  They looked at every shelf but didn't find a single book they wanted to buy.  That's okay.  They have too many already, including that mindfulness book that arrived in the post yesterday and which Blob's person has just begun to read.


Blob's person was glad that she had managed to leave the house and get to the theatre, even if there hadn't been any books she wished to purchase.  She was glad that Blob had encouraged her and that he had volunteered to support her even on a day he found difficult.  Blob was proud of her.  And she was very very proud of him.

One day maybe they will both find a show they want to go and see at the Alphabetti Theatre.  The people there were friendly and now that they have visited it won't be so daunting for them to visit again.  Certainly some of the shows look very interesting and it would be good to go back.  The place can be forgiven for it's terrible joke.  It's was just one terrible joke.  And there was so much good there.  Blob is, on balance, pleased that Alphabetti exists.  He thinks it's a fantastic addition to the theatrical side of Newcastle.



[1325 words]



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