Irrational hatred.

Maybe the internet has ruined me, like how everything is suddenly the male genitals, no matter how much imagination I have tho project onto it (those smiley emoticons take some work), but some days staying inside with my cold unfeeling appliances is still prefareable to being outside with humans.

It's a cold day here, typical northern hemisphere winter, with clear sky's and that festive cheer we're supposed to feel months before the years biggest anticlimax. It is also a Sunday, so while traffic heading into town is number to number, the local shops parking lots (there's three) are devoid of cars. Without the clutter of cars, it becomes immediatly apparent that there isn't even road side trees to try and break up the stark modern landscape and there must be twenty square foot (if not more) of cold bare Tarmac. 

I'm a big fan of nature, not as this thing that we go and stand in for an afternoon before returning to our boxes or something that can be tided neatly into a square with animals that know their space and not invade our space. For me nature is something we exclude, believing it is easily forgotten until we grow it in parks and gardens, showing our might by controlling it and shape it to our whims. Concret curtains should never hide simple natural beauty. It's like we are slapping make up over a girls face to tell her that without shadow and blush she is ugly. 

The simple truth is that nature doesn't need humans, rather humans need it. Nature invades our neat spaces, breaks windows to flourish and cracks mans imitation ground at spread. Standing in the first of these lots, I was struck by the sheer waste, sure people park but even when full the lots are half empty, more reminiscent of waste land than anything managed or controlled, either by nature or humans. 

It speaks to the shortsightedness of humans. We live for such short times that we grab what we can while we can. We have gone from shaping nature, controlling it, in 18th century royal gardens to running rough shod over it, destroying it beyond reason and tipping the balance from humans being battered to nature taking the beating. We mercilessly strip the ground for rescources, destroy jungles that produce oxygen that keeps the earth a life habitable planet, and play petty politics to gain a resource that is worthless without the very thing we destroy, after all money has no buying power if food is unable to grow or water is poisoned.

Big business and people with money are only concerned with money, the gathering of it, the theft of it from others. They, and we, stand on others to gain what we want. The gap is widening all the time between the have and the have nots, and I am lucky that I am one of the haves (in spades). I run my life like a business, I maximise my profit while trying to minimise my output. It is simple evolutionary drive, we don't see what we have, only that which we don't have. When we where hunting wooly mammoths, this was a useful survival need, something that pushed us to our next hunt when we had a full belly. Now, while it is ingrained into us the same way we see Jesus in toast because we are pattern driven, we are free of the lizard brain and can recognise the basic drive and over come it. This is where today's irrational hatred comes from, my local shop is doing a food drive for a food bank. Ok fair it's a good way for said local shop to make extra money running up to Christmas, but I am also a little dismayed to hear that not only is the drive not doing well, but people are asking if the food in the box is free. My partner suggests that this is because the box is badly labeled but even so.  

Many people and governments have recognised we need to dial back the nature destruction, with incentives for Eco homes and solar panels. My energy provider has green options where a levee can be paid for trees, my work manager has suggested we out together a suggestion for buying a plot and growing a forest, something I haven't had time to do, and from enquires to the forestry commission, you need good money to sponsor a forest. It's a pet project I would love to do, a plot of land and a forest, not for profit but just to put back what we take. The idea that the volcano that in 2010 belched carbon into the atmosphere helped the environment by grounding flights that would do more carbon damage is just insane, volcanos not being known for their subtly (ask your local Pompeii resident). 

As they Michael Jackson song says, we should start with the person in the mirror, charity starts at home. This is why I find band aid 30, or whatever it's being called, galling and worse that singers who didn't take part are being forced to defend themselves. First off, if multimillionaire singers are that worried about poverty let them give away their own money, secondly Africa is not one big poverty hole for us to pour money in so that we can feel better about ourselves while we sit in the warmth with our fidges that shop for us and our phones with GPS in case we get lost on the way to the bathroom (and wind up on the seventh plain of hell), and thirdly (yes I'm going after U2 here) in a countries time of need the proud to be Irish band fled to become tax exiles. While gap year students are much maligned for stealing local jobs, sending money with no focus is just as bad. Audits of the first live aid money shows a lot just lined dictators pockets and shored up corrupt juntas. 

I was feeling slightly hopeful halfway through that, but it ends on a him not, so forget this, I'm going back to bed.

First day

So today is important. First off I have just downloaded the blogger app on my new smart phone. Hopefully it won't give me any surprises like revealing my secret identity to the world at large (although most of my readers are my family and it's hard being anonymous to them).
Second, and the reason I download the app, is today is my first nhs physio appointment since my cerebral palsy diagnosis. The wait of over half a year is not really their fault, I am too well apparently for impatient (in both meanings) treatment and I'm guessing there's a long waiting list to am seen as an out patient.
Just to prove how much paper work is involved this is the appointment that my practice nurse (general practice doctors nurse) made for me about a month ago. I received a letter telling me I would be discharged from outpatient physio as I had not attended the original appointment made for me, the letter for which I had not received.
Anyway enough complaining about letters.

I have a long, complex history with physio. Until diagnosis every physio I saw was at a disadvantage. After diagnosis, I saw a private physio. Guess how Much that worked?

The upside to four physio assessments before today is I know my limits. The downside is I still get surprises.

surprise! I need splints.

Sigh.

Another lazy quick post before work.

http://youtu.be/jQ95xlZeHo8

It's a ted talk about Autism and its various presenting factors. Also anyone who thinks I'm a demon, well done your prize is in the post.

Post better later!

The wheat from the chaff.

Right, NO one is callous enough to use that wording, but having read some things on line, that's how it feels. I had vague ideas about this post, like I do every post, before typing takes over and the million voices in my head spill out and I have to cram them all back in before someone decides I need to visit my GP, again. In the last two months, the Tory party have had two fairly prominent figures say outragious things about the disabled and their worth in society. Researching this topic has thrown up a barrage of professional opinions from all of the main stream media and rebuttals from groups and charities with a much higher profile than myself. So with all that in mind: small time annoyances away!!!

The first is Lord Freud, who according to GOV.uk is the undersecretary for state and responsible for welfare reform, decided that disabled people are only worth £2. Anyone who pays any attention will realise that is delightfully lower than the UK minimum wage, which for anyone over 21 is £6.50 and we need to drop right down to the Appretice grade for anything close to Lord Freuds suggestion with a £2.73, and this only applies to apprentices under 19 or those in their first year, and then it becomes National minimum wage. 

To suggest some one, anyone, isn't worth at least the basic equal dignity and respect is abborant and heads us towards Godwin's law rather rapidly. I would rather avoid making obvious, if a little extreme statements, or conservative opinions, or any political opinions, will be variations of well known extremes. To suggest that people who are valuable, integral, and intelligent parts of businesses, or running their own businesses, people who are emotional, feeling, caring humans, aren't worth a minimum wage, which is supposably a living wage, lowers them to a different class. Class drives British society. I do find that generally it is a fictional construct that no one pays attention to, but I have occasionally been treated as not worth someone's time due to a perception as "lower". This, hilariously, isn't usually people with a title, but those who wish to be part of the "gentry". This is going wildly off topic, before I start discussing how WW1 changed the class system forever I am going to veer back on course.  

Often critics of blanket attacks on Muslims say "replace the word in your argument with Jews, and then watch how uncomfortable and unpleasant your point becomes. That is why your argument is invalid." I would ask Lord Frued to do this. Replace your suggestion that disabled people are only worth £2 an hour and with the suggestion that Jews/Muslim/Christian workers are only worth £2 an hour and we will watch the credibility and validity of your argument crumble.

The second comment came from Mr Andrew Selous, MP for South West Bedfordshire (GOV.uk). He stated that disabled people are grateful so work harder. Yes because companies pick their staff through pity and not ability. My manager does joke that I tick the companies diversity policy when we are inspected, and by saying I am gay too catches every box, but this is just a joke and clearly so. Stating that disabled people are grateful and work harder for it ignores the fact that the economy is still tanked and anyone with a job should be grateful, even if not gushingly so. This statement could be seen as a positive, hire disabled people, they work harder type message. 

Disabled workers, like myself, should be hired and supported based on their merits and abilities, not on medical conditions. Diabetics populate every professional field, asthmatics work every day. Disabled people work without flags signalling them to all and sundry. I know of a severely disabled gent who runs his own business using a light writer and business acumen. I know blind people who can buy and sell my ass with very little trouble. A blind man was an MP. 

Saying disabled people are worth less than others and should work harder to be thankful is ignorant and misinformed.

Nearly a whole month.

Time flies apparently. It's that dad joke where a man throws his watch out the window to see time fly.

I wanted to wait to post anything until I got my interview results. I got them two weeks ago, and since then I've been saying "I'll do it a little later." And then a little later becomes two weeks.  I can't seem to decide on a topic. Some bloggers have stuff happen to them regularly and some create content through baking or something on a regular basis, but even though my disabilities are with me all the time, I genuinely don't have things to deal with. My work accepts me, my partner accepts me, my dad forgets that I have multiple disabilities, I forget I have multiple disabilities (case in point when I went to the practice nurse for an Asthma check up, she refered me to nuero physio, as the practices new goal is to promote nuero care. First she saw my name on the list and wondered why, then when she spoke to nuero disability on the phone in my presence and listed the various interesting abilities, I genuinely wondered who she was referring to. That reminds me, need to book in to see the gp). 

There are many things I want to blog about, primarily the precieved war on the disabled by the current government. Because I do not need a second bedroom for a carer, and do not recieve any government assistance in the form of benefits, I have not been directly affected by cuts that could be seen as a war. This means that while I could write a blog about unchecked personal opinions and what flashes up on my news feed (not that I'm a paranoid conspiracy theorist but some times I like more than one opinion and view point to inform my life), I think a fact checked, if a little biased, post would do more justice to the blog and maybe actually raise some valid points. Don't get me wrong, I would love to be the first, which I won't be because I am late to the party, to raise a shield to defend those who need it, but it needs to be evidence based. 

In my opinion, something that's apparently dangerous on the internet, there has been a subtle attack on those on benefits, through shows like "Benefits Street" and perhaps even "Jeremy Kyle". Any such reality TV through the key hole type show is bound to pick things that score ratings, either by making us feel superior or by simply trying to raise our choler at where our money might be potentially going. It's the same with shows about benefits frauds and migrants. Yes fair, there will always be cheats and frauds and people coming to steal the things we work hard for but on the whole people are not monsters. But we can be convinced they are. During times of war, governments try to convince us the people in the village over the hill eat their children and sacrifice goats to some abhorrent god. Then as soon as war is over, each side has to convince the other that they are just like each other. 

The easiest example is that militant fighters in Iraq where told US marines had to kill a baby to become a Marine. This shows that life is precious to everyone, if an US citizen was told Muslims have to kill a baby to become a militant, they would be outraged. This is simply the reverse. Watch the dash cams from Russia. They help push cars out of ditches and little old ladies to cross the road, just like anyone in the UK would, but thanks to aggressive policy, we need to see them as the "enemy". 

On a more local level, as Nigel Farage put it, "would you want Romanians to move next door to you?". That is the most awful scare mongering, and my honest answer is "i don't really care". That's an awful lot of people to sweep up in one statement. I know loads of Romanians in work and I would say they are decent nice people. It's a bit like asking the Germans would they like Brits living next door? Well maybe or maybe not. Are they the well educated types who are frightfully polite or are they the louts we get on holidays who steal sun beds (it's a recent poll that Germans believe English to hog sun beds). 

And this brings me back to benefits. Sure theres people on TV who get benefits and smoke six packs a day and don't want to do volunteer work for benefits but are they the majority? If you watch the "cat calling" video from NYC there's no white men in it, and this is explained as bad editing, what the white men said wasn't clear, or off camera, so they didn't make the cut. Equally I bet for any sort of benefits Britain trype reality show, they cut twenty people who are  honest down on their luck people who have just been dealt a bad hand and need a bit of support for the one person who has five different baby daddies and smokes like a cigarette factory on fire which will make people upset (rightly or wrongly). It bumps up TV ratings and like it or not promotes the government line of we need to cut benefits because that's where it goes. 

  

 Mean while, in my own life, things are certainly looking up. I got the job, something I have yet to annouce on anything resembling a "public" forum due to there not being ink on paper yet. This is certainly another step forward, even if it's all gone a bit Game of Thornes with the "you win or you die" type concept about the three month probation.

Living on my own is still a struggle to some degree, and my partner came to help me clean again over the weekend. I should have a clean as you go policy but then I come in late from work or something and I make food and it all goes from there. At the moment however, I appear to have carpet.......

So, my lovely viewers, I shall leave you here while I go and try to research interesting and evidence based post about benefits cuts. Thank you for reading.

Dreaming

This continues not to be a work blog.

I haven't dreamt in a long time. Not sleep dreaming, I'm sure I do that every time I doze I just never remember it, I mean work dream. To dream of a long term secure future in a job of my choice, where I'm not the only applicant for a short staff company or the average no prospects drone.

First some tactful, anonymous history. 

Straight out of university, I was placed in a decent, if a little dead end, job. This was under direction of the university and with pensions and security, it was perfect. But it wasn't what I wanted to do, so I applied elsewhere, believing that I might not qualify for anything beyond that job, but knowing the longer I stayed the less likely my chances got.

However, just before my Aspergers diagnosis I landed a dream job, working for a perfect company. It is important to note, that while I don't want this to sound defensive, I had not been diagnosed but a condition of taking this job was to have my dyslexia reassessed. 

This dream job however, did not last. Despite managers best efforts to provide support, Aspy traits that had never been recognised, or more likely I had learnt to mask, where too obvious and I lasted less than four months. During my "garden leave" from this job, I had my dyslexia reassessed, and with information brought from my then devastated "current" job, the educational physiologist did Aspergers tests, marking my Empathy Quotient at 26, therefore on the spectrum. Her advise, actually, was that my Aspy markers did not require follow up if I felt it wasn't warranted. 

I had at that time more pressing issues, like finding a job. There was a two month gap, where I had little money and spent much of my day job hunting. So I retreated to menial drone work. Something I knew without a doubt I could handle, something similar to my first job. Once acquired and settled, I went for testing, feeling it was worth exploring. 

This isn't called the Aspy Journey blog because those tests came back normal...... Although I am normal, thank you.

That "retreat" job showed me the ugly side of no support and passive discrimination from management, and taught me tough lessons on what to look for in a job, and who to work for. I didn't hold out hope of ever being more than a menial drone, but maybe I could find a manager who would at least not pressure me and declare to the world my disabilities in the guise of helping. My Aspy nurse came to save the day. She originally came to talk to my management about supporting me and helping with behaviours that they wished to curb, and ended up giving me the best advice she could after watching two managers tear me for precieved infringements (I know I wasn't at fault because I had an independent Neurotypical in the room: my nurse). Her advice? "Quit, now."

Before I continue I feel its important to clarify my stance on the whole work support and health care support issue. The law protects me, I'm sure if I joined a union, they'd protect me, I have a right to a job and management have to make "reasonable adjustments", with help from professionals, to suit my work environment to me. I need a five minute break every two hours to clear my head? Done. Work is stressing me to the limit? I can simply walk out, without explanation, and leave a mark for my manager so they know. I can use a scale system so my colleagues can run interference on me, making me a drink or taking something stressful off me. What constitutes reasonable however is up for debate, and I have heard stories where companies can make reasoned arguments that an adjustment will damage business and that's the matter closed.

I understand that with bad attitude, or an entitled attitude, I could be nothing more than a millstone waiting to be passed to someone else. What it takes is a little quit pro quo, where I must strive to meet any reasonable adjustment half way, to try and overcome my faults through private education and support, and by extension this blog is part of that. It forces me to confront certain issues, uncomfortable ones, like how  i thoughtlessly upset people because I don't think before I speak sometimes.  I don't feel good about myself when I'm told I've upset someone. So I try to tackle those behaviours and while I am currently discharged from Aspy services, I wouldn't hesitate to contact them again if needed, or to join groups (which reminds me, I should search for groups in my area).  

So I quit. It was tough, I had held the job for just under a year, my second longest, but almost immediatly found a new job with an excellent manager. She also met my support nurse and was horrified by my previous jobs behaviour, encouraging me to retain a lawyer and do some active challenging. I didn't. The job to begin with hadn't been worth it, I was only a drone, it presented no growth or advancement opportunity, unless I threatened to quit, in which case suddenly I was the toast of the job. 

My new job took off, it was secure, I made friends, I really enjoyed it. 

Out of the blue I recieved a recruitment text. When my dream job had collapsed, I went into over drive, applying for every job and putting my CV on every recruitment website going. I still get emails and calls asking if I am interested in jobs that I am no longer suited for (in a good way). The recruitment agency had found my Cv online and where offering me an interview with a good company, with a chance for advancement, development and doing a job that would be exciting, rewarding and stimulating. I was back in dream job territory.

I went, not expecting to get the job. In the run up, I spoke intensely with my recruitment handler, discussing how to broach the topic of my disability, how my work history looked without context, gaps and short stays. Previous interviews for jobs that sounded interesting had gone flat when I couldn't with ease explain gaps and short employment, I had been ridiculed in one interview for taking the current drone job at my age. I was afraid to discuss disability, afraid it would ring bells, alarms, that I was not a candidate to hire because I might take supporting, and it all may just fall flat in a short period anyway, but without explaining undiagnosed disability, I couldn't offer decent explanations for gaps. I had done no research into interview techniques and they simply came back with cold "nos".

I wish I could remember the name of recruitment officer who spent hours on the phone, coaching me in how to phrase my previous trouble and to be direct. The honest answer is the best, and be up front about disability, stressing what you can do, what you are undergoing in terms of support and how much you want to work and meet them half way. He also said to turn my disability to company advantage.  The government requires that a certain number disabled people to be employed, and it makes a company look good and inclusive. The best advice I had ever gotten. 

So I went. There where five candidates and I was first. That's code for I was not a hopeful, I was a name. Inevitably the question about my dream job came up.

"Why was your stay so short in a job similar to the one for which you are no applying?"

I took a deep breath and answered honestly. I had undiagnosed Asperger's syndrome.

The interview opened. At some stage, when it became clear I was being handed the job I was asked a very poignant question:

"Are you saying this dream job collapsed because you where not provided with support?"

To say "yes" was the simplest but also untrue answer. I remembered the manager trying hard to support me, repeatedly. But without all the facts, neither of us could implement the correct support or fathom what was wrong.

I gave what I still consider one of my best interview answers: "WE didn't know."

I walked out of that interview room with a three month contract. I had to ask the manager who showed me round the offices if it was a serious job offer three times before I believed it fully.

Three months at my dream job was better than nothing. It was then extended by another three months.

Close to the end of the second three months, when the next management decision would be to either give me  permanent   contract or let me go, a job promotion came up.  I applied and was offered interview, more of a courtesy and learning experience than any real prospect of advancement.

I walked out of that interview with a permanent contract, a project to manage and promises of management orientated courses. The other candidate, rightfully, got the promotion. 

That was almost a year ago. I called this post dreaming, because ever since my initial dream job, I haven't dared dream. It has been unreal. But my first "dream job" taught me not to dream, it crashed. And while I worked as a drone I had no dreams. Maybe vague formless thoughts that further education might pluck me from a mundane dead end job that sapped my will and was not financially rewarding, but nothing solid. A stunted imagination really can be a draw back. 

Early this year I went for a job, regular hours, very good pay, in another office. I hate keeping secrets, I really do, but after I had interviewed and been offered a job, I decided my manager deserved to know that I was jumping ship for another job.

His reaction caught me off guard. He was neutral, but also asked why I was leaving a dream job to work somewhere that may be the equal of my current job, but may have different orientation and goals, work methods and ethics. It gave me pause.

Since my loss of the initial dream job, all I had wanted was to get back into that territory. It didn't really matter with who, or what I was doing day to day, just as long as I was lifted out of the drone work and into a platform from which maybe I could spring into what I really wanted to do. 

But now, now, I was in my dream field. I was jumping because my brain was stuck in "any fancy job" mode, the I'll fine tune it later, for now: leap type job.

My manager told me exactly what he expect out of my "five year plan". A plan I didn't have, and hadn't had since really leaving university if I am honest. He told me if a job came up he would encourage me for it, if he thought I was right, either with my current company or in a new company. He, unwittingly I believe, set me goals, dreams, things to accomplish. He told me if a job came up in a field I am passionate about,meh would pack my bags himself and March me out the door. I began to form a five year plan.

After that, I began to dream again, just a little. A little bit of hope and colour filling my mind, but I never really gave to much thought.

In a recent appraisal my manager put it as strongly as they could that I should apply for the next advertised promotion.

And that's why I am blogging at 5 am on a work day. I have applied for a promotion. One they kept the application window open long enough for me to return from holidays and apply. 

I've been told I won't get it, but that is no reason not to play a stormer. I am doing research, speaking to managers who I will be working under about what their expectations are (the advert says it all, but no harm in hearing it from managers), and preparing interview questions. My best suit has gone to dry cleaners and I will be buying a new shirt for the experience. Just because I won't get it is no excuse not to look amazing and grasp a learning opportunity.

I best get some sleep. Night/morning.

 

Sensory seeking behaviour.

After that last gruesome post, something a little less graphic and more thoughtful this time around perhaps?

This blog will have a number of overarching themes (there will be a quiz at the end so pay attention). These will include (but are no means limited to): behaviour, coping mechanisms, side effects and meltdowns, personal achievements and failures, social interaction and medical changes (hopefully minimal and not interesting). As you might imagine, these will overlap and intertwine as nothing in life is simple and various posts might encompass many different themes or topics. With this in mind, I am going to try to break down certain behaviours into individual posts, just for clarity and to highlight some topics that affect me (with this in mind there may be some opinion pieces, don't worry Dave my Etonian chum, it may not be my remit to advocate for the "disabled community", as many have their own voices, but I will be commenting on the perceived persecution of the disabled).

The last post was very much a sensory seeking behaviour, and I want to follow on with a broader topic of sensory seeking. I don't remember who exactly suggested I have some form of sensory seeking behaviour and I have a sneeking suspicion it was a friend who working with the intellectually disabled rather than a professional diagnosis.

While I enjoy narrow pursuits, I also enjoy them to an extreme extent. I read various internet sites, although none constructive to do with work or with my disabilities. In fact to compose a post about the recent disability cutbacks and the bedroom tax, I am going have to do some research, not only because when I hulk out, I like to be the credible hulk, but because my only information comes from the occasional news story on my Facebook feed. I spend hours on various funny websites, or meme apps, as well as Facebook and Twitter, following what is essentially meaningless comments from people I hardly, or don't, know. Life on the internet is delightfully anonymous, I can comment on anything I like with at least a veneer of anonymity. People can comment on this blog anonymously, because I am a benevolent god, and I believe in freedom of expression and response. 

I spend hours online, and while it can be varied content, between videos from people I follow, or memes, or any social media site or games, it still tethers me to a device and a wifi signal. Blogging is probably an extension of this, and I find a world without wifi a little less rich. I haven't read a full book in about six months, as my time is eaten wholesale by vapid internet browsing. I used to be able to read four books at once, one in every room of the house but, while I still read four books, they take months to complete rather than weeks. This also means my backlog of books is ever growing, as I buy books constantly. In the last week I have had to put books down simply to stop the fill of books pouring into my limited space. It has been this way since before my diagnosis, and it has taken off and been fed by my access to always on fast speed direct to my door broadband and wifi that is prevalent. I can go to any public space, practically, and use a smartphone, tablet or laptop to access the information superhighway. I recently ditched my smartphone and bought a brick that's letting me relive my youth nicely, and I must admit, with the exception of a camera, I miss nothing. Gone is the constant need to browse and upload content. This, at least in part, proves I can break certain routines and behaviours, although I am more often than not logging onto wifi before I have sat down in a restaurant, or unpacked in a hotel, or made dinner at home. 

My internet browsing also impacts another interest (for the purposes of the test, it counts as an interest). My partner recently complained that I wasn't taking a romantic interest in her, devoting more time to the internet than to her. Surprisingly, she isn't my first partner to make this complaint. I have been "diagnosed" by an ex partner who did a sex addict quiz on my behalf and scored me firmly in the addicted section. Mind you, I also scored 28 on a narcissism test, and I only have Facebook, Twitter, a blog, and a full time game account linked to a community and a YouTube account (which I don't upload to), so these tests can be wrong. The sex addict quiz score may have some bearing on my life, as I do have more than the normal appetites. I need to remember my parents read this blog, so I need to word this paragraph tastefully. 

The internet keeps me up at night, constantly feeding information into my brain and I chase it with thirst  and excitement. I am constantly tired because I sit behind a screen constantly, even in bed, on the toilet, when cooking. I am currently watching a video steaming supine, texting and blogging. 

My thumb is certainly a sensory seeking behaviour, and even today it has begun to split again. This time it's bleeding and sore. 

This topic will crop up again, but for now, goodnight.

Also: hi to my readers in America, Germany and now China, welcome. To my closer readers in the Uk and Ireland, thanks for the support.

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