Ooh Aah, a Little Bit of Nostalgia...

What was YOUR year when everything came together?

Waiting for my 
personality to gel

Do you get what I mean? A year when, without planning it to be so, the disparate aspects of your personality melded together and you emerged into the light like the fledgeling human being you continue to be today? Sorry. It's probably too early for such an existential question. I apologise. I'm not trying to mentally tax you on a Bank Holiday Monday. It's just been on my mind recently. Since January, actually.

Me in January 1996

I didn't know it at the time, but I think 1996 might have been mine; my year when everything made sense. Before that, I was a child, keeping my head down, counting the days til I could leave school, home, and my immature ways behind. Then 1996 happened. It was truly formative. Seriously. Read this rundown of personal hits I experienced and tell me it won't had have an effect. I dare you. 

• I turned eighteen

• I had a cracking 6th form social life

• I got some A levels

• I met the person I would eventually marry

• I left home

• I moved to a town far away

• I made new friends for life. 

All that in one year. What a whirlwind. 1995 was nowhere near as eventful, nor 1997. Like the army slogan almost says, it was 1996 that made me. 

Over the years, I've not given that much thought. Not really. But since this January, it's been on my mind a lot. And why's that? It's because, to my absolute disbelief, 1996 is thirty years old. I know! I can't handle it either.

More me in 1996

The past few months have seen me regularly, yet inadvertently, nudged by the ripples of nostalgia as various anniversaries have popped up. For example, I spent New Year '96 in Clacton. At that point, it was not home to Nigel F*rage, but a boy I really liked. I gave that some thought this year as the clock chimed midnight. Can that really have been thirty years ago? Now, three months later, as I think of that Spring, I remember turning eighteen, having Gina G's Ooh Aah Just a Little Bit playing as a continual ear worm for months, and meeting another boy - actually a man in his twenties - who ended up sticking around. All that in one season. Blimey.

I wanted to live in this house so much.

This is where my nostalgia is up to - the spring of thirty years ago. As this year progresses, I'll be recognising other anniversaries that pop up too. Euro '96,* for example. I was all over it, that summer. In Autumn there'll be memories of moving to Uni and meeting the friends I've still got. Then there are the cultural hits of the day. Did you know that the BBC has added This Life to the iPlayer? It's currently sending me back in time on a nightly basis. If I now watch old episodes of TFI Friday on YouTube or listen to Jagged Little Pill, I'll be fully immersed.

This descent into the past is mostly enjoyable. I'm remembering a personally happy time. Having said that, the rewatch of This Life is reminding me of the cultural and social attitudes of the nineties. It's an honest-to-God time machine that shows how things have definitely got better even when they feel like they've not. The sexism! The homophobia! The racism! All depressingly familiar. Despite that, I like that it reminds me of who I was back then. Pretty similar to who I am now, to be honest. I've just added HRT patches and have less tolerance for bullshit.

2026 me!
With a wonky halo
being present in the pub.

Time flies. Everyone says it, don't they? I've heard that sentiment a million times over the years and I know it to be true in my head. This year, I feel it to be true in my bones. Because if those thirty years have passed quickly, so will the next thirty. If 1996 feels like ten minutes ago, then in ten minutes time it'll be 2056. I'll be seventy-eight, with dodgy knees and a bad back. That's if I'm lucky, of course. Nothing can be taken for granted. A boy from my school year died in 1996. I think of him often but particularly on his birthday, which was last week. Ageing is an absolute privilege so making it to seventy-eight with aches and pains will be amazing. And if I AM that lucky, it'll be here before you know it.

 

Will do, Bradley.

As 2026 progresses, I'm going to lean in. Lean into the memories, the nostalgia, and the formative experiences that made me, me. It's important, however, to stay in control. Nostalgia is a heady drug but it shouldn't stop me from existing in the present. Every day counts, life is for living, and 2056 will be here in no time. Reminiscing can be fun, but living in the moment is the real sustenance. It's the people I know now, the laughter of current relationships, and the fresh air, great meals, and adventures of today that count. That's what provides fuel and nourishment. 

So now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to put down my laptop, and enjoy 2026 for a bit. Albeit with Oasis providing the backing track.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*That opening line from Des Lynam gave me chills. All I was looking for was a nice montage of the footy. Couldn't be more perfect.

A Frenzy of Fun...

It's full steam ahead. Choo Choo! (or something)

Not to pre-empt the Writing News section below, but it's fair to say that the last two years of quietly constant creation are about to reach fruition. What does that mean? It means I know what my book will look like, and when and where it'll be available. Hurrah!

Obviously, until I've received the final proof and checked every little thing, I'll be keeping my counsel on the details. Just be assured that the past couple of weeks have seen me all of a tizz as I wade through the final stages of admin. More when we have it. 

Dealing with the
annoying parts

Writing News

That's the exciting bit. Annoyingly, there are plenty of less enjoyable aspects - like how expensive the creating and printing of a book is, compared to my last one. That's been a crappy pill to swallow. Or that no matter how many times I sign off on the final draft, there's still the tiniest imperfection - a spacing error or missed apostrophe - that glares up at me during the next check. I need this book to be over soon before it actually drives me mad.

Culture

Amid the bookish stress, there's been plenty moments of light relief. Last One Laughing on Prime has been exactly what I've needed to distract myself. Likewise, with a completely different vibe, The Other Bennet Sister on BBC1, has been a joy. I'm still working my way through the book of All the President's Men - it's a tome - and look forward to something lighter and fluffier next. 

A lovely, yet
demented, 
birthday tea

Food and Drink

So much cake! For my birthday, I had a Basque cheese cake. For my partner's, a Guinness and chocolate. The remains of which are both still in the fridge and are offered to anyone who comes near the vicinity. You'll be pleased to know, for closure if nothing else, that my crisps, sour cream, and caviar birthday tea was utterly lovely. The only problem was that it was eaten after a fairly boozy afternoon in the pub. When I woke up the next morning, I was hungover AND starving. Still, who cares! It's one day a year. Here's to the next!

Opening presents in bed.
This gem was from
my brother.

Out and About

The past week has been particularly crazy. Celebrating both household birthdays has meant multiple meals out. Late nights and fuzzy heads have been standard. Happily, this week, I can retreat a little. I can finalise the book details, I can get a few more hours sleep, and I can be back here next Monday refreshed and raring to go. Yes? Excellent stuff. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

One Day til Wisdom...

Happy birthday eve to me! 

Yes, you find me busily preparing for my special day, hell bent on twenty-four hours of raucous hedonism. And what shape will that raucous hedonism take? Well, I'm going to have a bath, go out for lunch, and then drink a couple of gentle afternoon pints. I know! The debauchery!

The real gay abandon will be happening tomorrow evening. I'll be back home in my Pjs - natch - but I've got a once-in-a-year tea planned. My brother's flat mate put me on to it. Ready? You get a plain crisp, add a blob of sour cream, and top it with a spoon of caviar. Ta-da! How fancy does that sound? I've also got a bottle of champagne ready to go. Forty-eight, baby! Not everyone makes it this far. If I want caviar on crisps, I'm pretty sure it's exactly what I should have. Just for one day, like.  

 

Writing News

Series Two of the podcast, Lights, Camera, Aggro is ready to drop. On Wednesday the first episode will be available on YouTube. Remember the format? Me and my mate have very different taste in films. We take it in turns to make each other watch a long-held fave, and see how it goes down. On Wednesday, you can hear my first impressions of the absolute classic (that I'd never before felt the need to watch) Star Wars. If that floats your boat, check out the channel here. (FYI, Series 2's sound quality is much improved.)

Culture

I've just started reading Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein's book, All the President's Men. I've seen the film many times, but it's still keeping my interest. I was in the mood for reading about political accountability. Can't think why.

Talking of political thriller vibes, I'm in the middle of a cracking TV series. Does anyone remember State of Play? It was a BBC series from 2003 (there was a film made with the same name.) It's got David Morrissey, John Sim, Kelly McDonald, Polly Walker, and Bill Nighy - big hitters and all brilliant. It's a fictional tale of journalism, police, and politicians being embroiled in... something. Not sure yet. I've got three episodes to go and I can't wait.

Food and Drink

It's the calm before the storm. I live with one other person, and we both celebrate birthdays in the same week. Aside from the injustice of having diluted attention on my special day, it means the fridge is rammed with cakes and booze for weeks. With that in mind, I've been eating home made hummus and veggies in the down time before the madness. It's all about the balance.

Out and About

I had a night out in Manchester on Friday. It was excellent! Because I'm the best big sister in the world, my brother took me out for tapas. (By making that sound vague, it simply comes across as a nice gesture from one sibling to the other. Not so. The tapas was in lieu of petrol money for the many lifts I've given him when he's been home for Everton matches. Let's be clear about that.) Anyway, I love a bit of city centre boozing and much fun was had by all.

Next time this blog drops, I'll be a whole year older. I imagine that'll be evident with whatever I write. The wisdom will simply ooze from my words. Hope to see you there, if you can even stand it.

Have a lovely week, folks.

A Pastry Break Amid the Chaos...

Oh March, you absolute mofo!

Every year it's the same. March is the BUSIEST month. I've just totted it up and there are eight birthdays; birthdays of people I know well enough to send a card and present. Then there are the nights out and catch ups. On top of that, we've had Mother's Day that involved making the post. Plus, what with Easter being early this year (April 5th) there's a bit of prep needed for that too. Finally, and most importantly, it's MY birthday. Hello forty-eight! March is INTENSE.

The thing is, I love it. I like having plans and seeing different people. I like being busy - especially after the cosy hibernation of the new year. This is the time when, having emerged from the Jan/Feb chrysalis, my beautiful butterfly can soar. It just takes organisation. I've currently got March's calendar saved on my desktop. It tells me when I need to have posted cards, when I can fit in time to shop, and when I'm eating out and where. Right now, we're half way through the month and I'm on track so far. Fingers crossed it lasts.

Leeza McAuliffe

Writing News

Leeza McAuliffe is Branching Out is complete. I think. The only thing that could change it, is my sister. She was mad busy at the point when I needed beta readers. Now the Easter holidays are imminent, she's got time and is keen to read. I should tell her, 'Nah, it's all done, but thanks anyway,' but the thing is, she's got eyes like a hawk. If there are any remaining typos, missed apostrophes, or general inappropriateness, she'll spot them in an instant. My final draft is locked in, saved as a PDF, and ready to upload. But while I'm waiting for the front cover to be complete, I'll give my sister time to do her thing.

Culture

On Saturday I was at the Royal Albert Hall. Get me! I know what the Royal Albert Hall is because of the Last Night of the Proms. And I know what the Last Night of the Proms is because when I was a kid, I'd get a knitting needle from the bits and bobs drawer and pretend to be the conductor when the orchestra played Rule Britannia. On Saturday night, there wasn't a union jack or string section to be seen on. Nope, it was a live recording of the podcast Off Menu. Loads of laughs, and fab to see Ed Gamble and James Acaster interview Kiell Smith Byone.

Meanwhile, I'm quietly smug about my 2026 reading habit. I'm still averaging a book a week, still trying not to be competitive about it, and still enjoying filling my head with words. I've just read Nick Hornby's Juliet, Naked, and I'm about to reread Camp by LC Rosen.

Who says the perfect gif doesn't exist?

Food and Drink

Despite what I said at the top of the blog, I had two very lazy days in the week. Due to the convergence of my period along with being home alone, there was a chunk of last week that could be poetically entitled 'Wallowing in Pastry.' I couldn't be faffed to cook, didn't have the energy to do much more than read/type in bed, and so any food items needed to be handheld and cold. In related news, aren't almond croissants lovely?* I saw off more than a couple last week and they hit the spot perfectly. Now? I'm cooking for two (not pregnant - just no longer home alone) and I'm post-menstrual. It's back to the veg and the balance of it all.

James, Kiell, and Ed at the ROH

Out and About

Yep, I had my second London jaunt within a month. It's just the way it worked out - defo not the norm. Two weeks ago I was catching up with Uni mates and this time I was catching up with my podcast friends. (Ed and James, right?) Beyond that, I had a lovely potter around Highgate Cemetery - it's the most calming place to visit - and ate a fit Sunday roast. Back in Merseyside for the foreseeable now.

Did you have a good International Women's Day? A happy Mother's Day? Have you enjoyed yourself lately? What with my busy-ness, it's easy to forget to enjoy it too. Let's all stop, take a moment to clock the fun, and then keep on having it,
yeah? Yeah.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*I'm now questioning whether croissants are pastry and I don't think they are. They're bready, aren't they? But the flakiness? Bread doesn't do that! Someone check with Mary Berry and get back to me.

Reinventing Spring Cleaning...

Hello March, you beautiful beast! Encourager of daffodils, home to a clock change, month of my birth; in the words of Delia Smith, let's be avin' you.

March is often when the freezing drizzle of winter gets kicked into touch. Shoots emerge from the soil and fresh air and vitamin D perk everyone up. It's also the time when people feel the need to spring clean. They deep clean their house from top to bottom rather than relying on a quick spray of bleach and once round with the hoover. Spring cleaning is definitely a thing. 

It's not, however, something that features in my own life. I don't care enough. A quick spray of bleach and once round with the hoover is more than enough for me. (If that.) In this precious life of finite time, I refuse to waste one second pulling out the contents of drawers and wiping down surfaces that don't get seen. I respect myself too much. Fair play if a deep clean is your bag. Knock yourself out. I just don't feel the need for it in my own life.

That doesn't mean the seasonal change passes me by. Oh no. Spring cleaning as a term can be utilised in all sorts of ways. Forget your cupboards and shelves. Forget cleaning your windows and laundering every bit of bed linen. MY version of a spring clean presents itself in others ways. In no particular order, here they are.

Clean up the Planner

On my TV, under RECORDINGS, there's a mish-mash of content. Some series-linked TV shows with multiple seasons, some one-offs and specials, and some bought content from the Sky Store. I hate how disorganised it is. There should be an option to organise it into files like a desktop but there's not. Instead, I can delete. Delete the stuff I've watched. Delete the stuff I recorded at Christmas that I've not bothered with yet. And delete the build up of series-linked TV. TOTP2 is my personal nemesis. There's loads of them and they build up quickly. Instead of mopping my kitchen floor, cleaning up my planner can bring me joy.

Get a Haircut

I've been meaning to get a haircut since October. Life's been busy and it's just not happened. That's meant that the back of my hair has been the longest it's ever been (down to my bra!) and I've resorted to trimming the front with nail scissors. That ends now. In the fields, sheep are being sheared (probably) and in my own home via my mobile hair stylist, my hair has been cut. It feels great. A literal weight has been lifted. And for those of you who've never had the pleasure, let me tell you. The first time you wash your hair after having a load of it chopped off, is the absolute best. So quick! So easy to rinse! Happy spring!

Charity Bag the Lot

Yes, you could definitely eBay that pile of clothes you've allowed to build up. So go on then, eBay them. Or, if you're like me, accept the truth. You're never going to be arsed to take the photos, post the info, and answer questions from randoms about how many centimetres wide the £10 top that you're selling for £2.50 measures from armpit to armpit. Bung it in a charity bag and be done. Last week, I got rid of four bin bags that have been sitting in my bedroom for months. A charity benefits and I have more space. Plus, now's the time to have a look on Vinted for a whole new spring wardrobe. Fun.

Unsubscribe 

I bought a White Fox hoody for my niece in Christmas 2024. I'd never heard of the brand before and I've never bought anything since. However, for a good six months afterwards, they were kind enough to email me every morning to let me know they had other products to sell. They are not alone. I reckon I spend my first ten minutes of every morning deleting the email spam that's been sent overnight. Recently, I made a decision. I spent a similar amount of time scrolling to the bottom of each unwanted email and simply clicked the unsubscribe button. Genius, right? It felt far more satisfying than scrubbing burnt cheese off baking trays (insert more accurate spring cleaning chore here. I'm running out of ideas.)

Make a Change

It's been eleven years since my last tattoo. I have four, they're not all small, but they're discrete. With the new book coming soon and the gust of fresh spring air about the place, my tattoo tingles have started up again. Right now, I'm working it around my head. I've got ideas and I know where I'm going to get it done, but the final details are still to iron out. A change is as good as a rest, or something. Sod your dusting, polishing, and ironing, and get a tat instead!

Look, it's not up to me to dictate how you spend your time. You want to scrub, buff, and wipe? Be my guest. For me, however, I'm spring cleaning in my own way. Along with lovely walks, reading more than ever, and knowing the book I've worked on for two years is on its way, I'm cleaning out the old and ushering in the new. I just don't need to be wearing Marigold gloves as I do it.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Time Will Tell...

Greetings from the past! I'm writing this last Thursday, four whole days before it's available for your reading pleasure. How've you been?

Usually I'm much more up-to-date. I write this blog over the weekend before posting it on Monday. However this weekend - the one I'm about to have and the one you've just finished - is choc full of plans. I won't be able to write about the week just gone in time for the Monday deadline. That means I'm sitting here on Thursday morning, still living your last week and with no clue how it'll pan out. I don't know, for example, who won the Gorton and Denton by-election, I don't know how Connor Storrie did on SNL, and I have no idea how my Uni mates catch-up went on Saturday night. 

Actually, you know what? I know exactly how that went. Thirty years ago I met two guys in my first days in Northampton who became my pals. We're crap at keeping in touch but when we finally get our shit together (every couple of years or so) it's the best. I know now, days before it starts, that I had a blast last weekend.

Leeza McAuliffe

Writing News

My ego was thoroughly nourished this week. I had tea with my goddaughter who had received a typo-riddled advanced copy of the new book from me for Christmas. To my absolute delight, she was keen to talk about it at length. The actual thrill of it! We chatted about the plot, the characters, and I bounced ideas off her about the next book's direction. All in all, I had the best conversation whilst struggling to hide my overwhelmingly smug pride. 

Culture

I'm on a reading high right now. Since January started, I've had a book on the go consistently. This is marvellous. When I'm writing my own drafts, I tend to avoid immersing myself in other people's words. When I'm mostly done, I can return to the comfort of curling up with a novel. 

Right now, I'm reading Hamnet - which is beautiful but I know where it's going (I should've read it before the film) and I'm reading Rocket to the Past: Rainhill which is properly grippy but I've no idea where it's going. That's a real thrill right there. I'm half way through and I can't wait to box off today's jobs to get back to the story and find out. Also, in keeping with the theme of this post, time travel plays a significant part of the story. Boss. The joy of letting someone else think of the stories, can't be underestimated. Aren't books great?!

If I eat a load of
shite then early
morning walks
feel like wading
through treacle.
Am I entering my
salad era?

Food and Drink

Tomorrow night (that's last Friday to you) I'm going out with friends for a birthday meal at Botanico in Woolton. Here's the thing. I've already looked at the menu. Right now, I'm planning to order the halloumi and beetroot salad. It sounds gorge as well as being reasonably healthy. I'm at the point in life where if I eat a load of shite, I find that it makes me feel - you guessed it - a load of shite. Obviously time will tell if I stick to my plan. The four cheese gnocchi, also featured on the menu, might tempt me with its wily ways.

Out and About

By the time you read this, I'll have had a weekend in London. When I was at Uni, it took an age to get from Liverpool to London. These days it's two hours. How fab is that? Two hours away from meeting up with friends, having lovely food and drink, all soundtracked by a shit tonne of laughs. Even though it's not happened yet, I know it was brilliant.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Who AM I?

Brace yourselves but I did something spontaneous. Woohoo! Mere weeks after reflecting on my need for thinking time and build up, I made a quick decision. 

Steady now

Last Monday, I looked at my diary for the week ahead and saw it was empty. I'm currently waiting for people to get back to me, so book wise, I'm in limbo. Plus, it was half term and my sisters with kids were all over the family WhatsApp doing stuff. I wanted to do stuff too. What about me?! Wha wha wha, boo hoo!

Fast forward to a couple of days later and I arrived at one of my happy places. I hit Aberystwyth for a few days of bleakly beautiful beachy fun and had a marvellous time. Who am I?

Is there a lesson to learn here? In hindsight, I don't think so. This isn't the start of a whole new me. A me that throws a bag into the boot and heads off on adventures willy nilly. Nah, it's not that simple. But, if in the future, the serendipitous event of cancelled plans, waiting on book stuff, the good time in my menstrual cycle, and spare rooms in affordable accommodation simultaneously occur once again, I'll happily consider another last minute break.

Writing News

Something fab happened. My sister-in-law sent me a photo. She'd taken it in her local book swap shop - about half an hour away from where I live. I've added it here to see if you can spot it. Can you? Can you SEE? Among all the other books on the shelf was my very first novel. Carry the Beautiful had been spotted IN THE WILD.

I loved seeing that photo. It's rare that I hear of anyone reading/buying the book that isn't directly linked to me. Family, friends, and friends of friends is as far a reach as I know. But now, in a place I don't live, there's a copy of my book on a shelf that has the potential to be picked up by anyone. EXCITING.

The fictional hockey players 
who made me watch the real ones.

Culture

It was always going to happen. You can't devour Heated Rivalry - the Queer love story set in the world of ice hockey - without actually giving a shit about the subsequent Winter Olympic ice hockey being broadcast a few weeks later. 

1984 - the last time I remember
caring about winter sports.

For many people, this wouldn't be weird. Many people actively look forward to the Olympics - winter AND summer - and wouldn't see anything odd about my interest in it. I am not many people. You see, I hate the Olympics. Sorry (genuinely! Sorry to the people who love it and are gutted it's over ) but I find wall to wall coverage of sports I don't know, dull. Yeah, I said it. I never bother with any of it, and apart from happy childhood memories of Torvill and Dean (we all recreated Bolero in our ballet leotards, right) I've never bothered since. 

Until now. Every day I've found myself checking the schedules for the ice hockey, pressing the red button, and getting thoroughly behind Team Canada. I've read the rules, followed the NHL on Insta, and can recognise and name at least four whole players. I know what a power play is, that the goalie is called the goaltender, and that a clean sheet is called a shutout. Once again, who am I? 2026 has ushered in a whole new me! Yesterday's final between Canada and USA was a real nailbiter. Commiserations to Canada, who were pipped by the USA in overtime. You were an absolute pleasure to watch.

Food and Drink

It's unfortunate when your favourite tapas place is a three hour drive from your home but this is something I live with daily. 

Ultracomida is a deli in Aber with a little restaurant at the back. It's cosy but chatty, and serves beautiful food and the best wine. I manage to visit maybe once a year. What's great is that, despite the student nature of the workforce with staff changing with every visit, everyone knows their stuff. They're knowledgeable about wine, can make decent recommendations, and the occasionally changing menu is always delicious. Anyway, I had a lovely meal and I'll be back next time.

Bracing!

Out and About 

While I was away, I did a couple of seafront walks. The weather is what can only be described as bracing. I also spent a happy afternoon in the Pier Amusements playing shuffleboard. I lost, natch, but enjoyed playing a game where energetic movement is not required. (I enjoy darts and archery for the same reason.) 

This week, my diary is not empty. I've got stuff to do and can hopefully move forward with the book. Do you remember the title? Leeza McAuliffe is Branching Out. Say it. Roll it over your tongue. Now commit it to memory. Soon, I'll be asking you to pre-order it and I don't want it to be a surprise when that happens. 

Have a lovely week, folks.