These issues with social interaction have affected her relationships with coaches at previous clubs.

"It's actually something that got myself in a lot of trouble," she explains.

"When you're having catch-ups with the coaches and sitting there and I'm not looking them in the eye and I'm looking at the chair next to me and they go, 'what are you looking at? Are you looking there? Look at me'.

"I'm more focused when I'm staring at something that doesn't move and doesn't have any feelings because you don't have the, you know, 'what are they thinking?' in your head.

"People go 'that's rude'. But I'm trying to put more focus in and I'm trying to actually be better."

Middleton-Patel says she always felt different and had her first experience of "totally shutting down" as a result of becoming overwhelmed while in year nine at school, before being diagnosed as autistic at 18.

Things came to a head in February 2023. She made her Championship debut - while on loan at Coventry - and her first appearance for Wales followed three days later.

"I had about a week of media after, and then I hit a brick wall," she says. "I couldn't do anything. I couldn't speak to my mum. I was in bed for the majority of the day - I couldn't eat, I didn't want to do anything, and that's when I was like, 'you need to seek help'."

When Middleton-Patel becomes overwhelmed the experience is both mental and physical, "like someone has just put a weighted blanket on me but not in a nice way - it's like I get trapped and I can't leave it".

She adds: "Then I'm tired. Constantly. My emotions are just through the roof. I can't control my temperature regulation - I get too hot or I'm too cold.

"I can't get my words out, I have so many thoughts. And when someone goes 'you OK?' and I don't know and they go 'come on, you know how you feel', I can't describe it - I cannot pluck a thought out of my head and I think that's a hard thing that people don't understand."

Middleton-Patel feels "very fortunate" she was diagnosed with the help of Manchester United, and she says the club continue to be a major support.

"They are very, very understanding. And if they don't understand, they will always pull me for a chat. They won't ever have a go and be like, 'why I've said this, why I've said it like that'. They want to understand me more than anyone else," she says.

By speaking openly about her neurodivergence, she hopes individuals and organisations will have a greater understanding about what it is like to be autistic - that some people are not deliberately being difficult, it's just that their perception of the world is so different.

"People always go 'you don't look autistic'. But since when has autism had a look?" she says.

"This is me, this is how my brain works, this is how I am going to be.

"I know what it's like to be dropped from a club because they say you're too argumentative and you're too difficult and we can't handle you. I'm not trying to be difficult."

What others saw as her being difficult was actually her trying to understand in detail what was required.

"And they just thought, 'well, we've told you, why don't you understand like everyone else?' Because I'm not everyone else. My brain isn't like everyone else's."

The brains of autistic people are wired differently to those of the majority of people, and while the disorder is called a spectrum to illustrate the different characteristics and severity among individuals, Middleton-Patel prefers a different way of describing it as she finds that too limiting.

"I love the colour wheel idea and the visualisation because I can't visualise a spectrum as a straight line because I'm like, 'well, where do things go on it? You know, it's just one straight line'," she says.

"But the colour wheel takes into consideration your whole life, from social interactions to anxiety to your tactile senses.

"So I think for me it's easier to visualise on days where I'm struggling because in my head I'll go, 'today socially is through the roof'. You can tell people that you know you're struggling that way, whereas if it was 'put it on a line', I'd be like 'well I don't know'.

"People say, 'what's the pain out of one to 10?' Well, I don't know, I've never been hit by a bus..."

Appropriately for a goalkeeper, Middleton-Patel has green fingers, with tomato plants her favourites.

However, she can only eat small cherry tomatoes because she finds the big ones, with their slimy, jelly-like interior, repulsive - something plenty of neurodivergent people will agree with. Once hers are fully grown, she happily gives them away to friends and team-mates.

Asked where she stands on the debate about them being a fruit or a vegetable, she has no doubt, having researched the matter. "Oh!" she says, with the excitement of a true tomato enthusiast.

"I understand either side, but where I put it in my garden, in my little home allotment, it's with the veg. I think it's a veg, but scientists might say otherwise."

One aspect of neurodivergency that is still not fully appreciated is the breadth and depth of sensory issues that can be a part of it.

Middleton-Patel struggles with sunlight - she is not alone in finding grey skies are, somehow, even brighter and more painful than clear blue, sunny ones - to the extent she often has to wear sunglasses in the gym because the windows are so big.

And then there's cutlery - specifically the size of 'normal' forks, which to her make it look as though people are eating with a garden spade.

"I have my own set of forks in our lunch room," she says. "They are officially kids' cutlery - that's what I use. I use them at home too. I have tactile issues and weight issues - the look of a, if you want to say 'normal', fork makes me really angry. I can't explain the feeling but I want to throw it out of the window."

While she stresses how supportive both her team-mates and the club are, there is one tight-knit band she is particularly close to - her fellow 'Lego Club' members Jess Simpson, Leah Galton and Rachel Williams.

"We all bounce off each other, but they also know when I just need a hand on the leg to be like: 'Calm down. You can breathe. You're fine. You're safe here,'" she says.

"I don't know how they do it, but when I can't get my words out, they know what I'm trying to say. They'll speak on my behalf and I think that is massive for me because sometimes I'll be sat in a meeting and I will go mute.

"People are looking at me and I'll stare at the floor, and they'll be there: 'She's trying to say this. We've just discussed it, blah, blah, blah, blah.' And they're just perfect. They understand me. They don't want me to fake anything, they just want me to be me. As simple as that."

If only life itself were that simple, for activities many people undertake with barely a second thought - shopping for example - can lead to her taking fairly unusual measures.

Buying clothes is difficult enough already, because her issues with texture make it difficult to find items she feels comfortable in, but the process itself is also very stressful, and she now does almost all of her shopping online as a result.

"One thing I think people don't consider is the anxiety side," she says.

"When clothes shop assistants come up to me, like 'can I help you?' Er, no. Are you meant to help? Am I meant to say yes? No, I'm fine. But then I say it so bluntly they're like 'Okaaay…' And I'm like 'oh no, I didn't mean it like that'.

"One thing that makes me laugh is - and I wish I could overcome this - when I go to get petrol I have to go to a 'pay at pump' station. I will drive an extra 15 minutes just to avoid going into a till one because of the fear of that conversation and not knowing what they're going to say.

"The only store I can go into is Lego because I know what I'm going in for. I can actually make conversation because they love Lego as much as I love Lego, but that's literally the only store."

Lego is derived from the Danish 'leg godt', which means 'play well' in English. As she heads to the Euros, surely it will not only be Wales fans sending her off with the message 'leg godt Safia, leg godt'.