The castle’s been having some work done on the roof for the last few weeks so there’s a scaffolding tower in my garden. It’s just outside my bedroom window and from certain angles it blocks my view of the lamp-post.

My tics have had nothing to say about this.…

At the start of a ‘ticcing fit’ I usually make a repetitive noise that sounds like the word, ‘How’.

At the weekend, while I was in Northern Ireland with the Backstage In Biscuit Land crew, I started having a fit. Chopin and Leftwing Idiot came to help me, but as well as keeping me safe they decided to sing songs that started with the word ‘how’.…

For anyone with uncontrollable movements in their arms, soup isn’t usually the best choice on the menu, and although my bowl was full of chunks of bread to help keep it under control, I still managed to make a mess.

The reason: a recent memory from our last night in Edinburgh.…

I’ve just come off stage after my first ever stand-up comedy gig. This is daunting enough for anyone at the best of times, but thanks to my tics I never know what I’m about to say next. There’s an element of Tourettes that’s saying the least appropriate thing in any situation – so because my mum and dad were in the audience, a lot of my set turned out to be about Fat Sister’s sex life.…

Thanks to Poppy at one end and Chopin at the other, Leftwing Idiot and I have made it safely to Edinburgh. Leaving a scorching London this morning we were very soon reminded that it’s much colder up north.

We’ve settled into the flat, our home for the next week or so, and we’ve been taking the opportunity to have a look around.…

Ruth was supporting me as usual last night, but she didn’t come alone – her niece, Shaniah, and nephews Adoni, Zackiah and Shiloh came too.

The first thing Shiloh asked was ‘Can we play in your wheelchair?’ This is a favourite activity and previous sleepovers have seen wheelchair dancing, wheelchair mazes, and wheelchairs loaded up with pigs.…

Sometimes my tics suddenly pluck a word out of obscurity and through tone, pronunciation, and obsessive repetition, turn it into something surreal.

Today, “mottled” was in for this treatment.

It’s not a word I’ve ever given much thought to, let alone said.…

Most mornings my support worker Ana helps me wash and get ready for work, but occasionally she’s not available Veronica steps in.

Veronica’s been supporting me on and off for almost four years and we know each other really well. I’ve written before about her playful approach to moisturising my ‘chicken knees’.…

The summer’s whizzing by and I can’t believe it’s August already. My tics on the other hand are fully aware of the new month. This morning as I was getting ready for work all this popped out:

“August is the month of mottled light, scorched roundabouts and Dick Van Dyke.”…

Ana, my regular morning carer, has been on holiday for the last few weeks, and Veronica, who’s supported me on and off for the last few years, has been taking her place to help me get washed and ready for work.…