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"Don't you ever look people in the eye when you talk to them?'' I'm sixteen. With this unwitting reprimand for having answered a question from the driving instructor with my eyes on the ground, my friend points out a tell-tale trait. It takes another eight years before I begin to understand. I am autistic. More precisely, I have Asperger's syndrome. In this book, I am going to tell you as much as I can, with the candour and honesty - some would say tactlessness - of an autistic person. I have no shame in exposing myself thus for, as you will see, I have found my recipe for joy. What you think of me is not part of the ingredients.