December 9th, 2013
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.
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 🙂