From Eastleigh to the Honours List: Rethinking Neurodiversity in Small Towns

When the Daily Echo ran the story about me being selected for Bournemouth University’s inaugural 30 Under 30 honours list, it felt like far more than a personal milestone.

For anyone who does not know, Bournemouth University’s 30 Under 30 list was created to recognise graduates who had gone on to do notable things in their fields — people seen as making an impact through innovation, leadership, creativity or public contribution. To be included was, in itself, a huge honour.

But for me, the significance went much deeper than the award.

It felt like a challenge to a much older story — the story that had once been told about me, and the story small towns like Eastleigh can sometimes tell about neurodivergence, ambition and what kind of future is considered realistic for certain children.

You can read the original piece here: Eastleigh man selected for University honours list | Daily Echo

Logo of the Southern Daily Echo in bold red typography, showcasing its distinct and recognizable branding.

Why Eastleigh matters in this story

Eastleigh is the Hampshire town where I grew up. It is not a huge city where you can easily disappear into the crowd and reinvent yourself. It is the kind of place where communities can feel close-knit, where schools, families and local networks overlap, and where people can come to know a version of you quite early.

That can be a lovely thing. But it can also mean labels stick.

If, as a child, you are known as the one who struggles at school, the one in the bottom set, the one with “special needs”, or the one who does not seem to fit the expected path, that identity can follow you. It can shape how teachers speak to you, how other young people see you, how adults imagine your future, and eventually how you imagine it yourself.

That is part of what made this recognition so emotional for me. It was not just that I had achieved something. It was that I had stepped outside a story that had once felt almost fixed.

What it was like growing up neurodivergent in that environment

I grew up with autism, dyslexia and dyspraxia.

For readers unfamiliar with those terms, that meant my brain processed things differently from what schools generally expected. Dyslexia affected reading, writing and processing written information. Dyspraxia affected coordination and aspects of sequencing and physical organisation. Autism shaped the way I processed the world socially, emotionally and cognitively.

At school, these differences did not usually get framed as “different ways of thinking”. They were more often seen through the language of difficulty.

I was the child in the bottom set.

The child teachers worried about.

The one who was struggling with reading and writing.

The one people quietly assumed would probably not go very far academically.

That is why I often say that in smaller towns, neurodiversity is not always understood as variation or potential. More often, it is understood as a problem to be managed.

Not always cruelly. Often quite kindly, in fact. But kindness without imagination can still be limiting.

Sometimes the assumptions are subtle:

• maybe university is too ambitious

• maybe aim for something “more realistic”

• maybe this child just is not academic

• maybe success is going to look smaller here

Those messages add up.

What the “bottom set” actually means

For people outside the UK education system, it may be useful to explain what I mean by the “bottom set”.

At school, pupils are often grouped by perceived ability in subjects like English, maths or science. Being placed in the bottom set is not just an administrative detail. It can carry a strong emotional and social message. It tells you, and often everyone else around you, where you sit in the hierarchy of expectation.

If you are neurodivergent, that placement can become especially misleading.

You may be bright, creative and capable, but because the system is measuring a narrow range of skills in a narrow way, your difficulties become more visible than your strengths. Over time, people stop asking what kind of support or teaching style would help you thrive. They start assuming that the low set reflects your actual potential.

That is one of the biggest reasons this later recognition meant so much to me. It contradicted that entire narrative.

Why the 30 Under 30 recognition felt bigger than an award

Being named in Bournemouth University’s 30 Under 30 was, on one level, a professional honour.

But emotionally, it felt like something else: a public redrawing of possibility.

It said that the child who had once been underestimated in school, the young person who had struggled to fit the standard model of academic success, belonged on a list celebrating innovation, creativity and impact.

That mattered to me because it exposed how wrong the earlier assumptions had been.

I had gone from Eastleigh College and Barton Peveril to becoming a neurodiversity advocate, a speaker, someone recognised publicly for the work I was doing, and eventually the founder of Divergent Thinking. I had gone on to be nominated for a Pride of Britain Award and recognised by the Prince of Wales. None of that sat comfortably with the old narrative that once surrounded me.

And that is exactly the point.

Sometimes the labels placed on people early in life say more about the limitations of the system than about the person themselves.

Why this is not just a “personal success story”

What I most want people to understand is that this is not just a nice story about one person proving people wrong.

It is about something wider.

It is about how often neurodivergent children are still misunderstood.

It is about how quickly expectations can shrink around them.

It is about how local culture can sometimes reinforce those expectations.

And it is about what happens when someone finally finds the support, perspective and opportunity to step outside that frame.

For me, that recognition felt symbolic of a bigger truth:

the very traits that had once made me stand out in difficult ways — my autism, dyslexia and dyspraxia — were not simply barriers to success. They were also part of what shaped my resilience, my creativity, my perspective and the work I would later go on to do.

That is one of the central ideas behind Divergent Thinking: difference is too often framed only through deficit, when in reality it can also be a source of value, insight and strength.

Why support matters so much

Another important piece of context is this: I do not believe success stories like this are only about individual grit.

Yes, persistence mattered. But support mattered too.

There were people and environments that helped me see myself differently and work differently. There were places where I was not only judged by what I found hardest. There were people who understood the idea of a “spiky profile” — that someone can struggle significantly in some areas and still have very high ability in others.

That is a huge part of why I care so much now about practical support, whether in education or in work. A lot of talent does not emerge because people are simply told to try harder. It emerges when the environment stops crushing it.

That is also why workplace needs assessments matter so much in my current work. They create a structured way to look beyond labels and identify the real barriers, strengths and support needs that affect performance and confidence.

What I want young people in Eastleigh to see

More than anything, I want young people growing up in places like Eastleigh to see a story like this and understand something important:

The version of you that other people settle on too early is not the full story.

If you are neurodivergent and currently being seen mainly through what you struggle with, that does not mean your future is smaller. It may simply mean the people around you do not yet know how to interpret your strengths.

You do not have to leave your identity behind to succeed.

You do not have to become more “normal”.

You do not have to fit someone else’s mould perfectly for your life to become meaningful, impactful or ambitious.

What you may need — and what I certainly needed — is the right people, the right support and the right environment to help your strengths become visible.

Why small-town narratives matter

There is a reason I keep returning to the small-town dimension of this story.

In a bigger city, it can be easier to believe reinvention is possible. In a smaller place, the social imagination can sometimes feel tighter. Not because people do not care, but because expectations can become inherited and local stories can repeat themselves.

That is why I think moments like this matter beyond individual recognition. They widen the frame of what people in those communities believe is possible.

They say:

• the child you underestimated may not stay small

• the person who struggled at school may not be “behind” forever

• the future does not have to look like the earliest prediction

• different kinds of minds can lead, build, speak and create at a high level

That is not just good for one person. It is good for the next generation.

Final reflection

Looking back, what that Daily Echo story represented was not simply achievement. It was redefinition.

It was a reminder that early labels are often far too narrow.

It was proof that small-town expectations do not get to write the ending.

And it was a public moment that challenged the idea that neurodivergence should only ever be associated with limitation.

For me, being recognised in Bournemouth University’s 30 Under 30 was not just an award. It was a sign that the story other people once had about me was never the whole story.

And for the next generation of neurodivergent young people growing up in places like Eastleigh, I hope it offers a counter-message to the old one:

You are not too much.

You are not too unlikely.

You are not defined by the version of you that other people found easiest to understand.

Where you start matters.

But it does not get to decide where you end.

To explore more of my work as the founder of Divergent Thinking, visit the blog or learn more about workplace needs assessments.