Christopher’s letter to Siobhan 15 years later

December 9th, 2013

Dear Siobhan,

it’s Monday again and I’m sitting at my desk in my workroom and I’m writing your weekly letter. By the way I started it at 5:47 p.m. As you can see I used the same pen and paper like every time.

It’s exactly five years ago when I finished my Maths and Physics courage of study. Now I got my First Class Honours Degree like I wished when I was 15 years old, can you remember? I’m going to finish my dissertation in the next few days. I already wrote 227 pages. My new project at work is to build a ventilation system for a spacecraft. It is planned to be launched in about three years. I don’t know the exact date because it depends on the other building processes like the toilet system and you know how important it is to have a proper toilet. I’m very happy to be able to plan something which is going to the moon. But on the other side I’m pretty sad that I can’t participate on this trip as well.

I’m living in a new flat since last Wednesday. The address is Richmond Road 321a, Oxford. The flat is in the ground floor of the house so I have a tiny garden and all rooms are quadratic except the hall (but that’s acceptable). All my furnitures are placed parallel and orthogonal to the walls, doors and windows. The reason why I moved is because I had no garden at my old flat and my neighbours were french and messy. And the thing I hated most was that the house was painted yellow. There were lots of other important reasons for my move but I can’t tell you all. You know that I have a problem with dirty stuff and I hate to touch it. So I employed a charlady. Mother saw her announcement in the newspaper and her name is Henrietta Patricson and she is 53 years old and I don’t know how she looks like because I never met her. Tomorrow is her first day at my home so hopefully her quality of work is like I want it to be. She needs to do a good cleaning job, not to move anything and to be very accurate.

Mother came to me yesterday to cook us some food. She brought an old picture of me when I was 15 years old. I had my A Level in my hands standing in front of my old school. Then I thought of this whole story I wrote in the book you gave me to solve the mystery of the killed dog, Wellington. Do you remember? I’m so proud that I found out who killed the dog although I was very shocked about all the facts father kept secret. I still can’t believe that he killed Wellington and hid mother’s letters. When I think back I guess it was the start of turning me into a “real” man. All my strategy to work out who the murderer was, the family stuff, my A Level and so on was enormous. I had so much fun doing these things. Especially the journey to London on my own was very brave and grown up but I also got big problems by traveling for example all the strangers in a small room with me. I realized that some of these problems became less since I went to University like my behaviour with strangers and talking to them. I understand some metaphors better now but I still can’t interprete the emotions of other people and I still hate brown and yellow.

Have I told you that I wrote a maths book? There are 10 000 different math problems inside to solve, some of them are very simple but most of them seem to be impossible (but that’s what I like). On the front page is a house made of numbers. Sometimes I’m so captivated by maths that I forget eating, going to the toilet and sleeping but only as long as I can stay awake.

Just now I looked at my watch and saw that 42 minutes are gone while writing. I finish this now and send it to you.

Greetings, Christopher!

P.s. Perhaps you buy my book and give it to a child that has the Asberger syndrome, too. I think it might be super happy 🙂

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