Dial 999, I'm on Fire...

It's back!

My brain, entering the chat.

Yes, the routine, the excitement over a new project, and the work ethic that's been MIA for months. It's back, baby! Leeza McAuliffe Book 4 has begun to be planned. I'm writing these words, thinking back over the past week, and feeling a sense of productivity and accomplishment. Not, I should add, that I've written a complete sentence yet. Nope, all that is still to come. But... I've had thoughts, noted down ideas, and arranged those ideas into bullet points. It's a definite start. 

I also love, now that I'm busy again, eating sensible food at meal times instead of snacking on crisps whenever the mood strikes. I like that I'm getting organised with batch cooking, clearing out my wardrobe, and keeping my desk tidy. There're all sorts of life-laundry endeavours that can be completed now I'm back in the zone. As lovely as an extended break can be, there comes a point when doing bugger all work for a couple of months has a knock-on effect on the rest of your life. It's been interesting to see, over the last few days, how having a clear writing purpose has made me energetic and organised in other areas too. 

So I'm back! Back to getting up when the alarm goes off, back to getting my five-a-day, and back to being the competent, capable person I can sometimes be. Will anyone notice the difference? Probably not. I think I hide the worst of my slobbiness. But if you dig deeper, you'll find a new planner on my desk, a bunch of organising apps downloaded on my phone, and the fridge contains more veg than it did before. A new start has begun and I couldn't be happier.

The desk is still tidy! For now.

Writing News

Ideas gathering! That's the news. I've been reading back through my notes from the summer. That's been good for gathering thoughts about next steps. I've got some vague plot ideas for the next book, but I need loads more to make it a book. That's what I've been thinking about at my desk. And because my brain is switched on again, I've enjoyed letting it do its thing - make connections, spark ideas, ponder the what ifs. It's such an indulgent part of the process but completely necessary. 

Agnes Van Rhijn

Culture News

Remember I told you I was watching The Gilded Age? It's the 'Imagine Downton Abbey set in 1880s New York but done better' show I mentioned a couple of weeks ago. In it, there's a character called Agnes Van Rhijn who's played by Christine Baranski. She's stuffy, thinks she's right about everything, and expects people around her to behave with discipline and decorum. She does show a kinder side as the plot develops but she's quite the character. 

The thing is, after I'd finished watching that, I happened to start a new book. Recommended by a friend, The Correspondent is set in Maine in 2012. Made up solely of the correspondence of the main character to the people in her life, it tells the story of her final years as she mades good some of the troubles she's experienced. It's great but here's the interesting thing. Her name is Sybil Van Antwerp. From the second I read that on the opening pages, I pictured Christine Baranski's Agnes Van Rhijn. The names are kind of similar, right? What's mad is that the character of modern day Sybil is pretty similar to nineteenth century Agnes. The same initially austere personality and conviction in the right way to do things, later thawed by circumstance and able to connect with others. I was utterly charmed by the novel but found the connection between it and the TV show, utterly mad. Either way, I loved it and enjoyed the random connection my brain made. Damn, my brain was on FIRE last week!

My attempt at Stovies

Food and Drink

I read another book last week, too. After The Correspondents, I wanted something completely escapist and more befitting my newly seasonal mindset. Obviously I went with Saving Christmas at the Highland Repair Shop. It was gorgeous, Christmassy, snowy fun. It also included regular mention of stovies. Essentially a stew, I've seen this before on menus in Scotland. In the novel, it's used to nurture and warm a sad character who's far from home at Christmas. So when I got to the end of the story and saw a recipe included, I didn't hesitate. I made stovies the very next day. 

It's not crazily niche. Most regions have a traditional stew that uses potatoes, veg, and meat. I searched online for a few versions and ultimately merged them together. Using chunkily cut onions, carrots, and potatoes, I sautéed the lot with garlic and seasoning, before adding beef and chicken oxo cubes in a litre of water. Then, I diced a small tin of corned beef and stirred it through. It simmered for an hour and it was done.

The corned beef* melted into the stock to make a thick meaty sauce, and the veg and potatoes were soft and tender. The best bit was that I made it ahead of time, and warmed it up on Sunday. Read below to see where I was for the day, but after a long drive home, being revived by tasty warming food, was epic.

Not my hair do of choice,
it was a very windy day.

Out and About

As well as getting my routine back and being alert once more, I did a couple of road trips. Friday saw me head two hours up north for 'last-day-of-the-holidays' bants with the niece and neph. We walked to a castle, had lunch by the river, and had the last ice cream of the season. Then on Sunday, I headed two hours down south to see the other niece, in her new gaff that she's just moved into. Another marvellous day of aunt bants (auntie bantie?) to see out the week.

The cool thing about getting older is you reach a deeper understanding about how you personally tick. Like, I actually KNEW I'd feel good this week. I knew I was ready to get back in the zone. My hazy brain of the summer has gone and I'm back on track once more. The thing is, I know this too will pass. That's the phrase, isn't it? This too will pass and I'll be crap and unmotivated once again. The other thing I've learned is that that's OK. I just need to go with the moods, the vibes, and the season. For now, however, just know... I'm back! Woohoo.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*I know I don't NEED to explain myself but I'm going to regardless. My vegetarianism (pescatarian to be honest) is not ideologically led. It should be, and I recognise the impressive nature of people who eschew animal products for the greater good, but my own avoidance of meat is based on the fact that most meat grosses me out. I don't ever want to feel like I'm chewing on the arse of a cow, or the leg of a sheep. It makes me gag. A tin of corned beef, however, has nothing about it that makes me think of an animal. It's in a tin. It's not shaped like a leg. My brain doesn't think about it, especially when it's simmered for an hour and become part of a sauce. I apologise for letting down proper veggies everywhere, and I will continue to mostly choose the vegetarian option in almost all situations from hereon in.

Rain, Legends, and Potato Cakes...

A few weeks ago, I simply couldn't have imagined it. The heat had suffocated me for so long that the thought of cooler air was unimaginable. And now? It's raining baby! Woohoooo! 

Can you see the rain?

As I type, the rain is literally lashing down. Bouncing off the patio, cutting through the clammy climate, and giving me untold pleasure. It's marvellous. I can feel the breeze coming through the back door, I can hear the pitter patter as it gets heavier, and I can smell the garden. What's that word? Petrichor? I can smell the petrichor! How wonderful! The grass, that's been yellow and straw-like for weeks, is well overdue a drink. As am I. It's making me want to get a big mug of tea and settle in. I want to look out of the window and watch. I want to hear the splashes and splats and be calmed. I want to be. For so long I've been hot and bothered, but now I can enjoy being again. Isn't that brilliant?

Writing News

I purchased a notebook! Not just any notebook, but the notebook that will shape the notes that eventually become Leeza McAuliffe Book Four. As I mentioned on a video last week, I have clear stipulations for a planning notebook. It's got to be A4, hard-backed and spiral-bound. A headphones-wearing bear is entirely optional. This notebook is now siting on my desk, unspoilt, and ready to get to work tomorrow. Bring it on.

Culture News

The past week has seen a collective outpouring of love and appreciation for two cultural giants - Dolly Parton and Tim Curry. With the announcement of their deaths, not only are people sharing their work and reminiscing about gigs and performances, but sharing anecdote after anecdote about their kindness and impact on the world. 

Whether it's providing books to generations of kids, or being a beacon of hope for people who never felt they belonged, both Dolly Parton and Tim Curry leave an amazing legacy. BBC iPlayer has added a selection of Dolly-related TV here and I'll be revisiting The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Clue as soon as possible. Fair play, you two. You smashed it.

I've never claimed to
 be a food photographer.

Food and Drink

I'm not saying I invented this. That definitely can't be the case. All I'm saying is that this was a revelation to me. Ready? OK. Potato cakes. Yes? Bake them in the oven until they're verging on hard. Got that? Then, top them with any Heinz tinned based pasta or beans. (Ravioli for me.) Trust me, it's amazing. Or how about, as pictured, guacamole and poached eggs? Winner. Crispy, crunchy potato cakes are fit. I spray them with olive oil before they go into the oven. Then, twenty minutes later, they emerge as crunchy golden discs. Try it. The perfect base for all sorts of soggy toppings.

Out and About

When I was at high school, the whole school did a sponsored walk every year. It was to raise money for the school travel fund and I'm sure it did good things. What I remember, however, is the relentless trudge of a nine-mile hike around the outskirts of St. Helens, all the while knowing that I had to keep up the pace in order to avoid missing my school bus at 3pm, thus adding another long walk onto my day. But I digress. 

We used to walk past a pub called the Red Cat. I remember it well, mainly because every part of that route is burned into my long-term memory. Did I mention it was nine miles? Yes? Fair enough. In the years since, I've driven past it a load of time because of knowing people in the village next door. All the while, the Red Cat was just a name that I drove past. Until now! Last Friday I caught up with a new mate in that same pub and it was lovely. A gorgeous boozer with the best company. The perfect way to spend a Friday afternoon. 

I wonder what other places I've seen for years but never been in? Maybe that can be my mission going forward. Venture out, try new things, explore the world. Just without the nine mile hike before getting back in time for the bus. None of that, thank you. No ta.

Have a lovely week, folks.

One Week More...

Did we make it? Are you hanging on? Are you ready for... DRUM ROLL PLEASE... September?

I was in Scotland last week where schools are back for the new school year. In England (and I think Wales, and Northern Ireland) there're a few more sleeps-in-til-lunctime to go. Either way, we're in the vicinity of a whole new start. A fresh pencil case, a clean jotter, and a refuelled tank full of pep and vim. Can't you just feel it?

I wonder, is it a throwback to our English cave-dwelling ancestors? Are we programmed to view September as a new start, because that's when our foremothers, forefathers, and forepeople gathered the harvest? Or is it just that (in my part of the world, at least) September is the start of the new school year, so sets a pattern in our childhood that we internally carry to adulthood? I've asked a lot of questions that I don't know the answers to, and I apologise. It never fails to arrive, you see. This feeling of anticipation. I'm gearing up, I'm gathering my thoughts, and I'm ready to get started. Not now, of course. Next week. When September comes. That's when I'll be raring to go and tackling stuff again. For now, I've got one week more (sung in the style of Les Miz) to fill my empty tank.

Writing News

I've done no writing. Apart from this blog, WhatsApps, emails, and Insta posts, that's the lot. I look forward to another week of not writing and of not thinking about writing. One week more. I'm going to relish it whilst I let the excitement for Leeza McAuliffe Book 4 brew. And it's a-brewing! Oh yes it is.

Culture

I've started watching

The Gilded Age. It's been around since 2022 but had never troubled my algo. Then, a friend irl told me it was good, so I gave it a go. Reader, I can confirm, it IS good. Set in the 1880s in New York society, I'm buzzing off the world that's been recreated for the small screen. I'm only three episodes in but it's riddled with social climbing, class snobbery, and the horrors of new money. I love it. Pure escapism, entertaining and gripping, without an iota of real life stress. A perfect autumn watch.

Food and Drink

In Only Murders in the Building, the character of Oliver Putnam eats only dips. I GET it. Dips are the best thing ever. On the drive up to Scotland last Monday, I stopped at Tebay services and bought three of the loveliest dips ever. Stilton and pear, trout pate, and red lentil, coconut, and sesame. Along with chunks of focaccia and crisps, it was utterly fab. I've come home with an urge to have a dip-based tea a couple of times a week.

Out and About

Well, Scotland of course! You read it at the top. I spent four days in my East Lothian happy place, with plenty of sea air and downtime. I also explored. Check out Tantallon castle! Until Tuesday, all I knew of the place was that it stars in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it scene in the Netflix movie, A Castle For Christmas. Now? I've been all over it! Like a proper school trip, I read the information, imagined the place in the olden days, and got proper creeped out by the dungeon. Other than that, the week gave me daily beers in the local, and nightly evening beach walks. It was fab.

One more week of August, one more week of downtime, one more week to empty my head before it fills up again. What are YOU going to do with your week? Something exciting? Something mundane? Something life changing for you and other people? No pressure, you do you. But do it. Do it and make it count.

Have a lovely week, folks.

A Sign for The Times...

Long Ramble time, hurrah!

And what's the topic this month? We'll get to that in a sec. First off, check out this headline... 

Could this comic novel be Gen Z's answer to Adrian Mole? 

If you click the link AND subscribe to The Times, you can read the whole thing. Sadly, I ditched my access to The Times after far too many front pages slagged off Angela Rayner for something that seemed innocuous at the time and has since proven to be, but I digress.

The literary love child of 
Judy Blume and Adrian Mole 

That headline describes a book by Lissa Evans called My Name is MacKenzie Bly. I don't know much more than that, but it sounds great. 'An entertaining novel for older children and adults' is what the thumbnail says. Right up my street, I reckon. 

The reason is simple. It's exactly the kind of thing I write, isn't it. I often describe my books as the literary love child of Judy Blume and Adrian Mole. It's a pithy way to make clear what a load of waffle doesn't. Waffle like 'I write about the ups and downs of pre-teen and early teen life, through the character of Leeza and her diaries, including family dynamics, puberty, friendships, school dramas, community events, and exploding hormones.' Not so pithy when I say it like that, is it?

As I close the promotional period of Leeza McAuliffe is Branching Out and turn my thoughts to planning the next book, I thought I'd share some of the feedback this particular book received. Call it closure, call it the end of a chapter, or call it me blowing my own trumpet and being chuffed to bits at how the latest Leeza adventure was read. Check out some of the lovely reviews below.

'While I'm technically much closer to Leeza's mum's age these days, there was something so lovely about reconnecting with my younger self through her. Leeza is the kind if character who reminds you what it felt like to be young, hopeful, slightly awkward and excited about the world.

This is such a lighthearted, charming YA read, especially when the worked is in never ending chaos. I can absolutely see myself recommending Leeza to my own daughter when she's older. I hope she finds the same joy in there story - and in Leeza - that I did.'      

Jessie Farley on Amazon

'My daughter and I love read about Leeza. We read the first books and adored them, especially with the details we get about her life and the things she has to work through both at home and at school. It is a fun series and I e that helps young people look at life and how they are going to navigate issues.'  

Pause_theframe on Instagram

“I was just trying to make my outsides match how my insides feel.” 🥹 This line hit me so hard! The author captures the mindset and voice of a 13-year-old so accurately that I kept forgetting this was written by an adult. It reads almost like literary fiction with how deeply it explores the coming-of-age thinking process, adolescent identity, and changing family dynamics. Leeza is such a relatable, real protagonist, and watching her take control of her life while figuring out who she is was so satisfying! A wonderfully fun, thoughtful, and engaging read!                                      

ekaurbook on Instagram

Ok, Ok, I'll stop there. It's really quite unseemly, isn't it, all this praise sharing. Such anathema to my self-deprecating, piss-takey self. I can only apologise and normal service will resume next week. The trouble is, if I don't signpost people to these marvellous reviews, how on earth will The Times ever find out that there's another Gen Z answer to Adrian Mole?

Actually, screw Gen Z, they're old news now. It's Gen Alpha that I'm writing about. Get with the times, The Times. Leeza McAuliffe is where it's at. You should defo give her a read. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

Comfortably Helping the Economy...

For one day last week, the world made sense.

It rained. More that that, it was chilly. Can you believe? I needed a cardy. Sadly this cold snap only lasted a morning. By the time the afternoon came around, the cardy was gone, the doors were open, and the clammy heat was back. Sigh. For one morning only, I remembered what it was like to feel comfy within myself. What a thing I take for granted during the colder months. 

The importance of feeling comfy within ourselves shouldn't need explaining. If our minds and bodies are troubled by - for example - the sweaty heat, persistent pain, or - and I'm spitballing here - being born in the wrong body, then it's detrimental to us all. Not only for the people feeling the discomfort, but for the world in which they're unable to live their best lives and thus not be able to contribute as effectively to society. Check out this quote...

'In more equal countries, human beings are generally happier and healthier, there is less crime, more creativity, and higher educational attainment.'  

(If you click that link to the LSE player, showing the chat between Danny Dorling and Neil Lee, you'll read that 'the most economically unequal counties in the rich world are now the USA, Israel, and the UK.' So that's fun for us, isn't it.)

All I know is that if my heat-loathing self felt sharper, more productive, and happier after a morning of rain, the very least I can do - the ABSOLUTE least - is recognise that women feel comfortable in all sorts of ways. And we should all be enabled to feel comfort as we crack on with our days. For example, trans women, or cis women with short hair, those who've had double mastectomies, or people who prefer a more masculine look in their clothing choices (like me!) should be able to nip to the ladies when the urge arises with no one questioning it. There's room for us all, despite the garbled guidance that the EHRC published last week. 

Writing News

The book tour is underway! I've been overwhelmed with comments, posts, and even a whole blog article, reviewing Leeza McAuliffe is Branching Out. Because the publication of this book was fraught (putting it mildly) I'd accepted that it wasn't going to make much of a splash. That it was even out in the world seemed impossible six months ago. Now? I'm feeling the glow. For decades, I wrote stuff for myself that I'd keep in a drawer. Now I write to be read. I'm so happy that some people have done that. Thanks to Love Books Tours and all the crew that have taken the time so far. Onwards to the second week!

Culture

I'm rewatching The Diplomat. Oooh, it's good. Political intrigue in London's US embassy. I've also started a non-fiction book. Moonlight Express by Monisha Rajesh is fabulous. It's essentially a travelogue as she hops on and off European night trains. I started it on Wednesday as I got the 2103 train from Liverpool. I was home half an hour later, so it wasn't the same experience in any way, but it's a great read regardless.

Food and Drink

There's an Ella Risbridger recipe of leek latkes from the Kitchen Book that I made on Saturday night. The latkes themselves are fairly simple. Grated potato, thinly sliced leek, flour, and egg, shaped into thin patties to bake. The boujie bit comes when you dollop sour cream, crab, and cavier on top of each one. I ate them up and drank ice cold vodka and chilled champagne; because it was Saturday night, I had champagne from when my book came out, and because WHY NOT? 

Give me that exact same meal at a swanky party where I have to wear a dress and stand in heels, and I'd tell you where to go. Give me that exact same meal when I'm slobbing on the couch, licking my fingers, and wiping my hands on my PJ trousers, and I'm all in. We must all do what makes us comfy.

Out and About

I had a dentist appointment at the other side of town last week, so took the opportunity to visit the new Everton stadium. It's pretty stunning. What's lovely is that there are loads of bricks that have been engraved with dedications to people. The whole of one side of the space is taken up with them. I knew someone whose brick was somewhere in the mix, so I spent a relaxing hour strolling row by row until I found it. Other families were doing the same. A very chilled out way to spend time by the river.

Let's all metaphorically chill by the river. Let's be comfy and make sure everyone else is comfy too, in the toilet queue or anywhere. Live and let live! It's a decent philosophy when everyone sticks to it.

Have a lovely week, folks.

No Escape Needed But Still...

Well who knew Anglesey was so nice? Everyone except me, right?

I'm just back from a few days away and it blew my mind. Aren't the beaches lovely? It's a stone's throw from my Merseyside home but I'd never visited. Madness. 

The reason I was there was because of a significant birthday in my partner's family; that was why I lost my Anglesey virginity. But now? I've got the route, I know the best beach carpark, and I can visit whenever I have a free day. Win!

Writing News

The Leeza McAuliffe is Branching Out digital book tour starts today! Wooohoooo! For the next ten days, I'm going to be permanently online, scrolling and refreshing, to see what people think of my baby. Obviously it's not that high stakes. If my book were an actual baby, I'd ignore what anyone else thought and be proud and contented at the marvel I'd willed into being. That's parenting, right? Yeah, I thought so.

Maybe I should take that view with my book. It's fine if no one likes it. As long as I'm happy, that's all that matters, yeah? Sigh. I'm not sure it's that simple. I write books to be read and I care what people think. That means I'll be scrolling and refreshing for the next ten days, crossing my fingers that Leeza McAuliffe finds new readers. Oh, the anxiety of it all? Parents, you have it so much easier. (Lolz. Sarcasm. Natch.) 

Culture

Five days in Anglesey meant five days with no television, very little Internet, and not much music (apart from my phone blaring The Wasia Project whilst I did my hair each morning.) The good news in this cultural dearth was that I had a book. The Fathers by John Niven was perfect. A page turner from the start, full of humour and implicit social commentary. Two very different men become fathers on the same day, and a connection is made that twists and turns. All the swears, lots of Glaswegian dialect, and an emotional gut punch that truly winds. I filled a happy beach day lost in its pages.

Food and Drink

The gastro-pub I ate in, was properly nice; the menu filled with the classics done well. Take a look at my cheese pie. I did worry it'd look like I'd ordered from the children's menu when I substituted the peas for beans, but what could I do? Peas are gross. The whole thing was utterly fit. Cheese pie, beans, chips, and gravy. Like I was carbing up for a marathon. Mmmmmmm.

Out and About

Because I was with my partner's family, I didn't have much control over the places we visited. I didn't want to pitch and putt, nor play beach games en masse with Very Competitive People but I was part of the visit regardless. Luckily I had my book. As well as reading on the beach, I spent a happy couple of hours in the coffee shop near the golf place, whilst I earwigged on the patrons nearby. Leeza McAuliffe Book 4 will have some great dialogue stolen from there.

So now I'm home. It was nice to have a break from the routine for a short burst but I'm desperate to be back amongst it. One of the things I've learnt is how much I don't need holidays from my life anymore. I still want to visit new places, of course. I like nothing more than planning a break and researching where to go. The difference is, I have nothing to escape from. When I was teaching, knee-deep in assessments, marking and stress, it was all I could think about. How lucky am I? Yes, very. Very is the correct answer. Well done to everyone that shouted it at me just then. I hear you.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Call Me Lionel Messi...

My hall, landing, and stairs is now newly decorated. (I like to give you closure.) What was a biscuity-beige is now a pebbly-grey. Adjectives aside, it's not massively different. Just neater, cleaner, and tidier. Win.

Taken when the
radiator was still the
old colour, while
the wall were 
the new. Virtually 
identical.

The problem is I'm under pressure to keep my own belongings neater, cleaner, and tidier too. Boooo. I live with a neat-freak, you see, which mostly works well. I have a high tolerance for mess while he cracks easily so he does the bulk of the chores. But now? As I put my desk area back after painting, I was forced to declutter and, I don't know... organise it. What fresh hell is this?

My desk before
last week.

I thrive in mess. Casting no aspersions on my upbringing (lolz) it's what I'm comfortable with. Not even Kim, Aggie, and a team of Navy Seals, could've kept things tidy in my childhood home of two adults and seven kids. I grew up amidst a comforting level of clutter. It's shaped who I am. I love a bit of chaos. I love my stuff around me. My brain calms in the midst of it all. And yet, I spent the best part of last Thursday, going through my personal belongings and having to decide KEEP, BIN, or GIVE AWAY.

My desk now. Sterile!

My niece is the real winner. She was visiting the next day so I boxed up a load of pens, notepads, and stickers for her. I was also able to bin a bunch of biros and gel pens that had long since dried. But everything else? I've just rearranged it, made new piles, and shoved a bunch of it in a crate under the desk. I'm not a hoarder, not yet. I just like my stuff. Still, it's tidy for now, and it looks great. Like a show home. (Sterile and empty of life?) Of course in a few weeks, I'll be sitting back there to plan the next Leeza McAuliffe book. Let's hope the mess builds back by them, so my creative juices can freely flow.

Writing News

Did you know that last Wednesday, it was fifteen years since Amy Winehouse died? I saw it pop up on Insta while I waiting outside Argos. Hasn't that flown? That was my first thought. It reminded me to dig out my Back to Black CD the next time I want to feel. The second thought I had was more self-involved. If it was fifteen years on Wednesday that Amy Winehouse died, that means it was fifteen years on Tuesday that I left my last proper job - indeed my career - and decided to focus on writing a book. What happened next was anyone's guess, but that was my plan.

What happened next was, I did write a book. Hurrah! But it was terrible, so it's consigned to a never-opened folder on my laptop. Booo! But I didn't give up. Nothing works first time round, right? I took what I'd learned and channelled it into writing Carry the Beautiful. Four more books have followed, I've started the Leeza McAuliffe Stories series and I'm looking ahead to five more books to round it off. If you'd have told me that fifteen years ago, I'd have laughed in your face. Then I'd have concluded that you'd lost your mind. Anyway, here's to Amy Winehouse, who will be forever linked in my mind with my mid-life crisis. Not so much a crisis, as it turned out.

Culture

The final part of Heartstopper dropped last week. It's a film - Heartstopper Forever - and takes the story to the end of the books, saying goodbye to Nick, Charlie, and the rest of the gang.

Relatable

I'm OK. Thanks for asking. A little bereft that one of my favourite shows is over, but what a legacy it leaves. If I were a young teen, or an old child, this would have been such useful viewing. Seeing young people navigate the world, work out who they are, talk through problems with trusted adults, and ultimately learn how to be happy, shouldn't be revolutionary, but it is. Fair play to Alice Oseman for creating this world. I read the last book before I saw the film, and it was simply beautiful.

Remnants of a galette!

Food and Drink

My sister, brother-in-law, and six-year-old niece stayed on Friday night. I got very excited about using this as an opportunity to bash out a galette. You know, a whipped feta, butternut squash and cavolo nero filled walnut pastry galette?* No? Fair enough. 

For the gram.

My niece didn't look too thrilled in the run up, when I checked with her via FaceTime. So, with her disgusted face in mind, I spent a happy Friday afternoon making not only a galette but a margherita pizza too. Oh, and obvs my easy but impressive chocolate splattered fruit plate, for the gram. Maybe it's the mess of cooking that calms my mind. Either way, it was fun!

An artists' impression 
of last Wednesday's lash lift.

Out and About

Over the past week, I've had a dentist appointment, a pedi, and a lash lift. All the personal grooming! The temporary filling that's grazing my tongue is nowhere near as marvellous as my shiny black toes or perky lashes, but still. We do what we must.

Hope your  work areas are as messy or tidy as you need them to be. Hope your inner-teens are healed through excellent telly. Hope your mid-life crises are the gateway to a better life. Or failing all that, just have a good week. Next Monday, yes?

Have a lovely week, folks.

*The link in the paragraph is the recipe I used, but I ditched the sage, added pan-fried cavolo nero, and made the squash pieces smaller. Either way, it's fab.