A few reasons, some background, but one main one. Firstly, I worked an outdoor bank holiday event in August, where alcohol was flowing freely; and despite working and not drinking any of it; I really had a good time. At this event, I also learnt a lot about what can go wrong, and how stupid people really can be when it comes to consuming alcohol.

Secondly, the last 18^th birthday party I went to didn’t quite go very well, and I almost ended up in serious trouble. Oops. I thought it might be best not to end up making the same mistakes. You know, as in ‘let’s prove I can actually be responsible’ type of thinking!

But the main reason had more to do with whose party I was at. You see, I have a tremendous amount of respect for my friend, and I also like her, as in really like her. Therefore, I didn’t want to put myself in the position where I’d do something stupid that I’d regret around her. I don’t know why, but she is the one girl who I really like, but somehow always seem to get things right whenever I’m with her.

For some reason, I seem to change my personality, and the flirtiness calms down. Weird, I know, especially considering that she’s currently single! I never think of doing anything other than hugging her, or simply being with her. Which unfortunately means I wasn’t quite expecting her reaction when she saw the necklace I bought her; she came at me, I expected her to hug me, and she tried to kiss me. Oops. Not the usual me – if it wasn’t her, I’d have most likely been the one initiating the kiss…

Also at this party, was her ex-boyfriend, who she’s said she does not ever want to go back out with, “too many times” being her favoured saying! Firstly, I figured my friend would be getting rather drunk and might just appreciate waking up and not regretting anything. Secondly, I’d had one conversation with him before, and didn’t want a similar one if I was drunk, I doubt if I could handle it well.

So, I stayed sober. Apart from her younger brother, I was the only sober person at the party. And it’s a good thing I’m a first aider, because 2 people passed out with drink, and 3 more were vomiting. Lovely. It does make me wonder why people let themselves get into that kind of state. I was also able to help my friend when she wanted 5 minutes alone in her room and her other friends were thinking it was best to sit with her. One simple, but semi-polite request later, my friend had the space she was asking for.

I really enjoyed the night, and thank my friend for inviting me. For once, I can walk away in the knowledge that I hadn’t done anything wrong at all!

I’m sure it was on my way down to the post with the team that one of the cute red bull girls told me she had lost my number and wanted it again. I think it was at that point I first noticed Steph. Against my personality, regret number one was giving my number to the red bull girl. The reason for this is that I was partially thinking about her for the next 5 minutes, and how I was going to get my number to her. I recall telling the red bull girl that I had to go, but I would give her it later – little knowing I wouldn’t see her again.

I then approached Steph (though at this point, I was unaware of her name), and asked if we could help her. She told us that this was normal for her and that after taking her medication she would be alright. I relayed this to Becca, who told me to do the refusal form. Regret number two was not trying to persuade her at this point to go to the treatment area where it would be quieter. I also regret not sitting down next to her, simply staying put and making sure she was actually ok.

When filling in the refusal form, Steph was unco-operative, and it took quite a deal of persistence to get her to sign the form. My fourth regret is actually being so persistent, as I don’t think it helped her condition. Contrarily, my fifth regret is in not using that opportunity to attempt again to persuade her into letting us treat her.

My sixth regret may well class as unavoidable – letting her out of my direct line of sight. In my defence, we were called to two shouts one after the other outside of the control building. But all the same, looking back, I’d been happier if I knew somebody had been keeping an eye, just to be sure Steph was getting better.

The next regret is in the way I approached the incident when the police called us directly over to it. I think because of the routine I’d been getting myself into all night, I went straight for the paperwork. It took Ryan to shout at me “100% o2 now, non re-breath!” to get me to even think about putting the resus bag down and getting the cylinder ready. After the incident passed, he did apologise to me, but I told him that he needn’t have apologised, it was an incident, and I wasn’t giving it my full attention.

The eighth regret comes in the way I spoke to her friends in getting Steph’s details – I was rather forceful, and quite demanding. I think I was also impolite. In my mind, I was doing this to ensure that I didn’t get met with the refusal from above. But I think, with hindsight, I could have been a damn sight more polite that I was.

I wish I hadn’t been so sharp with the police. They were doing a fantastic job, and were a brilliant help. In fact, they probably could have got a message to medical control faster than me. Even if they did ask for the ambulances, the location would have been enough for Steve to look out of the window and realise what was needed. I never had the opportunity to apologise to the officers, my tenth regret in not seeking them out to do so.

Kneeling next to Steph, and effectively forgetting her friends looking on is also regretted; I was the only medic available who could have provided some much needed reassurance. Because they were so thankful for our help, I didn’t even think to apologise for not keeping them up-to-speed with what the crew was doing.

I regret not asking somebody to site with Becca, and effectively leaving her along crying. I didn’t know why she was crying, but I should have been thinking ’she needs to talk to somebody’. Why didn’t I?

Regret 13 is the way I spoke to Emily. I was way too harsh, and thinking solely of my team-mate. I should have stopped and looked at it from her angle, if I did, I would have been able to offer a suggestion. Instead it took my boss to appease the situation and suggest a new plan to keep the cover levels up.

Regret 14 is my thoughts as I sat down – ‘I need a red bull, why didn’t I stash one?’ The 15^th regret is that my mind jumped immediately to the cute red bull girl, and the fact that she didn’t have my number. Why did I think about that? Also, I think because I thought of her immediately after the incident, I couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t around for the rest of the time I was at the event.

“Come on Steph, not far now.” “Steph, stay with me girl, please, you’ll be ok soon enough.” “Steph, are you with me?” “Steph?” “STOP!” All eyes turned to me as the carry chair was brought to an abrupt halt; “She’s unconscious!” is all I needed to say to confirm everybody’s initial thoughts.

I dropped the oxygen bottle and bent down to assist, Ryan told the police officers to hold then move the carry chair on command as he and Becca, our nurse, went to grab Steph, whose airway needed protection.

Then everything happened at once, and of the medics, I was the only one with ‘nothing to do’. Becca had gone to Steph’s head to open her airway and change the masks; Ryan was waiting for her ‘go’ for the compressions. A policewoman was calling an ambulance – “Cancel that call” – last thing I needed was a 999 ambulance turning up without going via our controller first. A policeman was calling for CCTV cover on us – although it would have been easier to get Control to lean out of the window; it was right above us!

A second policeman was about to hit his radio for an ambulance – “Don’t even think about it. I need to run this via medic control.” Looking back, there were many better ways to say what I did to the police, but at the time, my mind was focussed on finding out what we needed for Steph, and getting it back to our controller. I simply didn’t engage the part of my brain that deals with the social niceties and etiquette. The shock of the incident had shut it down, to allow the protocols to take over – rigidly take over.

Hang on, Becca and Ryan had our team radios; how do I get backup? “Ryan, what do you need? Para backup? Stretcher?” “Yes, yes, now!” “Ambulance – no?” “No.” “Becca, want me to ring medic control from my mobile?” I asked because I had set one of my speed dials to be medic control in case of radio failure, and neither Becca nor Ryan had a free hand to work a radio.

I can’t remember the exact call, I blurted something like, “This is Matt with medics 18 and 24 with a patient outside of event control. I need a paramedic backup and a stretcher immediately please.” I was asked to repeat it, because I was talking too fast, and I also remember hearing the controller say “Stand-by, on phone to crew.” I was still kneeling down, and all of the police were providing a human cordon from the crowds to give us working space. I held the paperwork in my hand, knowing I should be writing something, but I think I froze due to the shock of having a patient collapse on me for the first time.

I don’t know how long passed, but it must have been a short time, but Steve turned up. I asked him, “Want me to keep the line to control?” He answered, “This phone? I hung up 2 minutes ago.” I suddenly realised that Steve was our controller for the weekend. I think Steve was watching for the backup crew to arrive. I suddenly remembered that there was a patient in front of me, who was now half-sitting, leaning back on Becca’s knee. She was drifting in-and-out of consciousness, and I put plenty of effort into trying to keep her with us.

“Steph, come on, it’s Matt, stay awake for me, girl.” “Steph, you’re doing really well, keep focussing on your breathing for me.” “Come on, Steph, don’t go to sleep on me, I need you to really try and keep your eyes open.” “Steph, come on, look at me, that’s a good girl.” I basically kept repeating those lines, and kept her looking at my eyes, I would at least then know if she was with us. My entire attention was with Steph, I didn’t even know what Ryan or Becca was doing at this point.

The backup crew arrived, Emily and Tom. I stood up to give them room, and gave as much handover as possible to Emily, aiming to be as concise as I could. As I finished, I noticed Steph’s friends, who I hadn’t spoken to since her collapse, were in tears at what they could see. Although I knew I had been quite harsh with them in getting Steph’s details from them, I think I may have been the only medic available to talk to them. I held my hand out; she instantly grabbed it and looked to me for reassurance. “She’s going to be ok, she’s came round, and we’re just moving her up the road to our base where we can look after her easier.”

As she was loaded onto the stretcher, her friend asked if she could accompany her, “Of course you can, just give me a moment, I’ll stick with you.” I bent down to gather all of the kit that wasn’t with Steph, and went back to her friend, who again grabbed my (now rather full) hand. “Can I hold her hand?” “Yes, you can, but just give us 2 minutes to get her into our treatment area and off the streets.” “Thanks.”

As we arrived back at base, I handed over the paperwork (both sets) and walked round the back. Emily asked if I could get the team back out to post, as the medics were low on cover. “Hang on, we need a good 5.” As I walked into our refs area, I noticed Becca was crying – and it was seeing her that brought my social skills back into play – “Are you ok?” “I’ll be fine, just give me a minute.” “Ok, would you like a cuppa or anything?” “No.” I left her, because I didn’t know her personally, and there was plenty of crew on base that did.

I was also in shock myself. Steph was the first patient I was treating to collapse on me. But, it wasn’t that which was bothering me. I felt a massive amount of guilt, sadness, and uselessness – just 30 minutes before the collapse, we had come across Steph who was having a minor incident, and we offered our help. She refused, and it took me ages to get her to sign our refusal form. I tried hard, but I didn’t get any of her details, medical or otherwise. Her friends were just as unhelpful, and I know I was quite persistent with them. I documented the refusal to give details, and made as many observations as I could, following Becca’s advice, “Write as much as you see, in case she self-presents to base later tonight.”

I wish she had presented to base. I wish I had been more persuasive. I felt really bad, because in the 30 minutes or so we’d been away from her, she was getting worse. We all knew that the reason for the collapse was directly related to what we had predicted when she refused treatment. There is only so much we can do as medics, but that statement is of little consolation. 6 days on, I still feel bad about seeing what Steph went through, and for not trying to do more when she was refusing.

For information, Steph did recover from the reason she collapsed.
Please see the next post – The reflection – for my regrets in my personal dealing with this incident.

I almost cried at a few points in the book, particularly when the dog dies in the final chapter. But it was the afterword that actually had me with tears coming out of my eyes. Two quotes from the penultimate part of the book strike a lot of meaning with respect to my knowledge and experience of autism/Aspergers:

If I had to say just one thing about autism as a disability, it is this: we must never underestimate how hard a person affected has to work every day, all day, to live by our society’s rules and to fit in. The anxiety and effort this takes is always immense, and, like their autism, it is for the rest of their life.

It sounds very similar to the words of my Step-Dad a few years ago, and it truly sums up how I live my life. Each day you may see me as a ‘normal’ student at college, chatting, flirting, swearing, getting on with the work, and having a laugh. To do everything except the work itself, it requires a massive effort, whereas by comparison the academic work is as easy as you’re finding the small talk.

You worry about passing the exams, doing well in the subject, and coming home with your anticipated grade – be that an A or a U. I worry about whether I will mess up and be labelled as a freak, whether I will appear ‘normal’, whether I will end up a total loner with no friends. Yes, you may worry about whether you will ‘fit in’, but to do this may require an hour or so in the morning sorting out your hair and make-up. I have to worry all day every day about how I am seen, what I am saying, how people are reacting, and most importantly, whether I am interpreting any of that correctly!

Through the drama After Thomas and this book, Dale and I hope that at long last some lessons will be learned.

That one simple sentence made me reflect on everything I have been through recently, particularly since starting at this current service provider. My Mum’s fight for my diagnosis and the subsequent fights for adequate provision were all too similar by my recall. I was diagnosed about 7 or 8 years after Dale was, and I can’t say that much has changed. Departments within services are still trying to pass files and the accompanying responsibility around, with nobody quite certain where Aspergers ‘fits’. Multi-Agency teams cannot agree on who should be doing what, and none of them are keeping the important people in the loop.

With my forthcoming transition to the ‘real world’ as it were, I have been thinking on what is out there, how good it is, and is it really worth it? Currently, I describe myself as being “in this cotton-wool padded world, with far too many walls layering me from the real world, it’s going to come all to soon when those walls crumble and I’m the only thing left standing.” My point behind this is that with the current culture in healthcare provision, all too often the actual purpose for providing me with these services gets lost, “in less than a year’s time, it’s likely that I will have to do this anyway.”

To prove that I can cope independently requires being given limited amounts of responsibility, but in this day and age, somebody always has to be responsible for my care, and most of those somebodies are governed by ‘risk management…

But, that’s not what this blog post is about. It’s about a night I had in a pub/restaurant next to the no-frills hotel that I stayed in on Friday night. As I’m on my own, it can get a bit boring, particularly after I’ve eaten and want to have a few more drinks. The good thing, however, is that the bar staff on duty were really friendly, fun-loving people.

As usual, I ended up flirting with one of the beautiful 18 year old lasses, and I must have taken up the last hour or so of her shift just talking generally and about us. Needless to say, I started off a bit drunk, but once I got talking properly, I thought that it would be better to start sobering up, I didn’t want to come across as some sleazy drunk trying it on; she had enough lads that had already tried.

We talked about being a student, where is good in the local city, what we like doing, and so on. And somehow, I ended up mentioning that I had Asperger’s Syndrome. Then, she shocked me: here was a stunning blonde, blue-eyed girl, only 18, with a clue about what Asperger’s Syndrome actually was. She didn’t say it, but her facial expression told me enough. As I asked her more, her first comment was “I’d never have guessed that you had that!”

Naturally, I was quite complimented by that. I learned that she knew a girl on her college course that has the same diagnosis, and the barmaid reflected on how ‘different’ she was. There was agreement when I said I had a “compulsive drive to socialise”. I was still quite pleased at her comments about not guessing I had AS, as it agrees with my views: that I can cope with socialising, going out, and so on…

The title of this is called “Marine Disruptive Pattern Material”, because it is the first thing I noticed. Not the first thing of the day, but the first thing I noticed when I sat down to lunch. As you might expect, the foyer was rather busy, and there were no free tables; I noticed a young-ish lady sitting on her own, so I politely asked if I could sit next to her, and she said I could. My observation skills picked out that she was wearing a blue DPM style bra and not that I was looking, it was slightly sticking out over her blue strappy top.

We got talking, of course – who can shut me up? – and we spoke about school, A levels, exams, the open day itself and general things like how old we were, where we were from and so on. Funnily enough, I never conversed on any topics that could be considered inappropriate. The only thing I regret was not getting R’s phone number or surname (for FaceStalking)!

However, I did have a “get a grip” moment with myself, when I seemed to lose my flirty personality. I was sitting at another empty table later in the day waiting for the next tour of the campus, and a good-looking young lady came and sat next to me. She was wearing tight-fitting jeans and a white top. I didn’t even open my mouth to say a word. Something must be up with me…

For the rest of the time, I was just talking to the student guides, finding out about the place. I felt comfortable enough to mention my Asperger’s to one of the 2nd year lasses, and she was quite supportive and stuff, looked out for me for the rest of the day, which was nice of her!

Socially, no problems. But then, I always knew I can cope with things, it’s just being able to prove to the service provider that I can do so, without having to go behind their back and breaking their risk assessments…

But why am I in this state? Why do I always get myself in a state where I want to cry because of the arguments?

This time, it’s about meeting my friend, to help her revise. For some reason, I had it in my head that my Mum would be reasonable, and let me go and meet my friend to help her. But no, I was wrong. I told her after I got back from Newcastle that I had met this friend; the usual lecture began, an exact copy of what the service provider has been over-exaggerating. I was, as usual, reminded of the risks, that there is a strong possibility I could make my friend feel scared in my presence, that I could do something socially/sexually inappropriate, that I could ‘not conform to the unwritten rules of society’, or that my friend could accuse me of something. That last comment leads to the usual reminders, I could be branded a “rapist”, or a “paedophile”, that I could have allegations show up on a CRB, which would ruin my career ambition.

I was finding it difficult enough to trust the management of the service provider; considering I now no longer genuinely believe that I have a chance of a reasonable outcome when I ask for things to be considered. For my Mum to be taking the same approach really upsets me; I do not wish to not trust my Mum.

I text my friend after this argument, and she replied:

Wel I KNOW tht u wudnt do anything like that. and they shud too! [...] bt if its best then il just revise by myself, then u wnt hav ths shit

This made me happier. As far as I’m concerned, it proves one thing, that I can cope, and that I can cope quite well. All that matters to me is that she is ok with things. My main problem is that I’m in a ‘catch-22′ situation, I can’t prove I can cope being with her independently without going against my Mum’s wishes or service provider’s orders and thus getting myself into trouble.

I told my friend that I enjoy spending time with her, that the revision is something fun, worthwhile and sensible. I told her my feelings on what the adults around me are doing; that they are refusing to believe me (or listen in some cases), that I’m not going to let it bother me, and that it’s basically just crap what they’re doing.

After arriving at his house, which is a very nice place, the drinks kept on flowing as we helped finish putting out the food and blowing up balloons (along with all the teenage innuendo that goes with it). The food was absolutely brilliant, home cooked by my mate’s Mum, and I thoroughly enjoyed it – having decided that I’d best eat a fair bit before drinking much more. Again, my camera was out, snapping away at different things here and there, all the time impressing those who saw the shots.

Its fair too assumes that by the time most of his family had left, all of us teenagers were fairly drunk. We started enjoying ourselves a bit more; I can remember dancing with a lovely young lady to High School Musical. With the lager now finished, we drank a bottle of wine between us before opening the bottle of vodka to have as shots. A useful thing to remember is that vodka burns, and gets to your bloodstream quite quickly. Now, I can recall a set of drinking games cards was being looked at as we had our second shot, and third, but then as we toasted to friendship, the young lady became extremely upset; the situation changed rapidly from a drunken party into a crisis management because she was in floods of tears about something. Present at this were myself, who’d only just met her 8 hours earlier, my mate who knew her well, and her boyfriend.

As you’d expect her boyfriend tried to comfort her, but physical comfort can only go so far, my mate tried to talk her through what he knew of the situation, but it didn’t appear to be helping. Thankfully, my mate trusted me at this point that I knew what to do, so I hinted for him and her boyfriend to effectively shut up and go away. At this point, I have adrenaline kicking in and therefore I become fairy sober in the space of about 15 minutes. The first thing I done was to comfort and reassure, without saying anything I simply put my arm around her and let her cry silently for a few moments. I then distanced myself emotionally from this all by telling her I don’t know the situation or the people to who it refers, I also told her that I was going to listen to her explain it to me and how she feels.

We didn’t get very far before my mate asked me to go upstairs and use his room because he thought it would be best to give her complete space from people she knows. This idea worked well, because she simply lay down on the bed and continued to talk to me as I lay next to her and hugged her. I cannot remember what physical contact went on between us; I only know that we were definitely hugging. I was glad she felt she could talk to me about it, being so distant from it all, but this led to issues of trust, I totally appreciated that she couldn’t trust me because she’d only just met me, and I respected that. At this point, I made five failures that took a crisis to a disaster, and although I stand by my decisions come what may, I accept full responsibility for the consequences that came.

She asked if she could have a cigarette outside, and this was ok (I had been given her cigarettes and lighter to look after), so we went outside and I gave her one, as we continued to talk some more. Then, she asked for another one, and I refused, saying that she’d want it in the morning. She then threatened to stay outside in an unfamiliar place to us both, or to leave, the risks for either were immense, and I therefore felt I had no choice but to do everything possible to safeguard myself and her – this meant giving her the second cigarette. Whilst doing this, we continued to talk, and she was beginning to feel better.

For some random reason she asked me for a foot massage, and this was ok, as it helped her stay relaxed. This triggered her to talk about her boyfriend and how much she wanted him to wake up next to her in the morning. I foolishly promised her that I would ask my mate to ask him if he would; this counts as two failures, one for the actual promise, and another for considering the request as reasonable because I had no information about what was going on inside the house. We then went back inside the house, and after showing her back upstairs, I went down to relay the promise.

When I got back upstairs, the situation had changed dramatically, and she was no longer relaxed but quite agitated and didn’t want to talk to me. She wanted to run downstairs, but I knew that this was not in her best interests, so I placed myself between her and the door. She then threatened to shout “rape”, or otherwise, but I held firm, and attempted to persuade her to sit down and talk rationally about this at the same time as trying to reassure her that I had her best interests at heart. I finally conceded that I was no longer helping her, and that I needed backup, so I rang my mate to come upstairs and take over me. What had happened was that she had became scared of me, and what might happen, I think the drink was wearing off and she was realising that she was in a room in somebody else’s house with an older lad she’d only just met. Quite rightly, this scared her, and made her feel very anxious.

I switched roles, and went downstairs to sit with her boyfriend to watch Dr. Who. It took my mate 40 minutes to repair the damage caused by me making her feel scared, and to get her back relaxed and how she was before we came back in from the cigarettes. It took another hour before we asked her to come in and listen to my apology. However, after we woke up this morning, we spoke more, and both agreed to put the incident behind us, and to move on. The positive thing is that she is now able to think about what was making her upset and how she can make herself feel better about it. She’s also more confident, because she is able to relax, and she’s going to attempt to give up smoking for her health.

A good party overall. At first, excellent handling of a crisis incident, but then I got a few things wrong which led to a disaster. However, benefits of hindsight are wonderful, and I took immediate steps to resolve the situation, which worked. I can see my faults, yes, but I can also see the positive aspects of it all.

She was struggling with chemistry, and I’m fairly good at the subject. It was good fortune that I done my GCSE with the same exam board she is under. However, I discovered I spent a lot of the time trying to read up on what I was supposed to be helping her with, because it’s been 2 years since I touched GCSE chemisty. A good tip to those helping others to revise is to go and download the specification and have a good thorough read, it really is a damn useful thing to be doing!

Now then, so far, can anybody see a problem with what I have done? Personally, I can’t. I went to help a friend, as a sort of revision tutor (albeit without any teaching or training qualifications), and therefore I acted professionally all the time I was tutoring her. Now, I’m an 18 year old young man. My friend happens to be in Year 11 at the local catholic girls school, and is currently 15. Before you all gasp, stop, and think, what actually is wrong with a 15 year old and an 18 year old being friends?

This brings me onto the lovely complicated issues that the service provider where I live has decided to throw in. Shock, horror, gasp, panic – she’s 15! Big wow, I’ve known her since she was 12, I was 15. What’s more is that I’ve known her as a friend, a colleague, and as a young person when I was a kind of senior cadet. And in all that time, I’ve never kissed her, or done anything like that. I might well fancy her, but that’s it. But, I know full well what management would say: NO. Therefore, I have no choice but to meet her without telling the service provider that I am. Because I like her as a friend, and want to help her. What’s the use in having a scientific brain if I ain’t gonna use it to help people?

I’ve already met her twice without telling them, and I plan to meet her at least twice more in the next two weeks. And frankly, I cannot see a single problem!

Now, socially, I will admit to becoming a little inappropriate after we left the library and waited for my train, she was scared I would kiss her. I can understand that, but I reassured her I wouldn’t even try, and she trusted me on that. I also took it a bit too far with hugging her, and flirting. Since then, I’ve apologised to her, and I’ve promised I won’t flirt, or try anything, or kiss her, etc. She is happy with that. What’s the betting the service provider isn’t…

Elliot was talking about how you need to achieve certain things, for example following the recipe, having the oven at the correct temperature, and cooking for the correct amount of time. He went on to say that, with more confidence and experience, you go on to adapt the recipe, perhaps by adding some extra spice, or a little bit longer cooking.

Being a typical Aspie, I like to examine every little detail, and take things to the nth degree. So, my analysis of the metaphorical cooking:

Firstly, you have to gather all the correct ingredients. Just as you can’t make a sandwich without bread, you shouldn’t attempt sex without protection (be it in the form of a condom, femidom, pill, IUD, implant, etc). Not only are physical ingredients, but the emotional ones are much more valued: love, trust, passion, and most importantly – mutual consent.

Secondly, you should follow the recipe, particularly if you’ve made the meal before. Just as you don’t add the margarine to the flour in a cake, you don’t start with consent and try and add the trust to it. You need to start with your firm base of love, and then gently work up the trust on top of it. Once you have that, you can start adding some passion to the mix, and top it with consent. Of course, every recipe tells you the temperature of the oven, and this is no exception; sex simply does not cook on a cold heat, you really need a hot oven to get things going.

Thirdly, you need to cook the mixture for the right amount of time. Too little time and you’ll have a floppy pudding, too much and you’ll burn yourself out. Get it just right, and you’ll have created a sensual delight hard to beat.

Finally, it’s no good spending all that time in the kitchen to serve something that looks awful. A good chef always puts as much effort into the presentation as to the cooking. You’ve got to present your meal in the right way, with lots of thought going into the setting, the atmosphere, and the build up. Nobody likes to go straight to dessert, so you should have a good, simple starter planned, followed by an enjoyable main course. Only then can you go on to show your tempting masterpiece.

If you’ve done well with all your cooking, you should be able to finish off with some squirty cream!

The above post is written very tongue-in-cheek, and should not be taken literally!