Adhd

‘Feeling a bit stressed or anxious? Want to practise more mindfulness? Looking for good vibes and your best mellow and chill?’ This is not an advert for a life coach but the official sales pitch for NeeDohs, the much-coveted new children’s toys. These are not mere playthings, you see. Thanks to the ADHD-ification of childhood, they are ‘sensory fidgets’. NeeDohs are produced by American manufacturer Schylling. They are ‘the original sensory squish toy’, but others have appeared on the market, such as squishy ‘original viral dumplings’, produced by RMS International. Squishies are the latest craze – brightly coloured blobs of plastic to squash, squeeze, stretch and supposedly help children who have trouble focusing. Squishy, stretchy toys aren’t really new.

Hadiza Atunse, a 25-year-old PA, smashed her Toyota Auris into a Mini Cooper, spun out of control and flipped into a hedgerow in Wilmslow, near Manchester. When the coppers turned up, she declined to partake in a breathalyser and the police, mysteriously, did not give her a tongue swab to determine drug use. I say ‘mysteriously’ because the young lady was also found with a large bag of coke in her car.  Later it was discovered that she was driving without insurance. Yet Ms Atunse copped only a £730 fine because the judge seems to have accepted the defence’s argument that she had been suffering from ‘excited delirium syndrome’, which, coincidentally, is what afflicts me in the moments before Bargain Hunt comes on the TV.

In 1620, in the Staffordshire market town of Bilston, a teenage boy decided he didn’t much fancy going to school. Rather than resort to conventional methods, 13-year-old William Perry claimed that he was possessed by a demon. His symptoms included reacting with spasms to the reading of the first verse of St John’s Gospel and peeing blue urine. Thousands flocked to Bilston to witness his supposed possession. King James I, who wrote a book on necromancy and black magic, took a personal interest in the case. It was only when the Bishop of Coventry had the bright idea of reading him the equivalent scriptural passage in Greek – a language the boy didn’t speak but the Devil presumably could – and drew no reaction that suspicions were aroused.

I was on the bus recently and bored when I decided not to ignore but to answer one of those online questionnaires about adult ADHD. It was on Facebook, I think. Question 1) Am I easily distracted? Well, yes. 2) Am I often late? 3) Do I regularly forget appointments? Yes and yes. By the time I had arrived at work I had signed up to something called Impulse brain training. And in a few days I was quite sure that I’d been bravely suffering with undiagnosed ADHD for decades. I was half-caught in the adult ADHD trap, though I didn’t know it yet. Are you always late? Do you let people down? Don’t worry! Don’t sweat it! That’s just your ADHD I asked my brother and my friends what they thought and instead of laughing, they nodded sadly. Yes, yes.

Just a quick plea to those who know me; if you’re going to burst upon me with a revelation, make it a juicy one, please – preferably sex-related. No gender reveals, no late-onset allergies – and please, most of all, no adult ADHD diagnoses.  Before you start up berating me as lacking in ‘compassion’ and ‘empathy’ (the twin calling cards of contemporary sad-sacks and milk-sops) let me say that I do believe that both allergies and ADHD exist – for a very small minority of unfortunate people. (I’m writing this in bold as I’ve noted from past experience that when people are keen to get their knickers in a twist, they often suffer a simultaneous temporary loss of reading abilities.