Cultural Highlights of Lockdown 3...

Nature is healing. Or perhaps it's old consumerist ways that are healing? That's probably more like it. Anyway I'm wearing eyeliner again. Three days a week at least. And my car is getting used more. Then last week I went on a wholly frivolous trip to a garden centre in search of outdoor solar lights. These will be added to the no-longer-working outdoor solar lights that I already own, building up layer upon layer of useless wire adornment, draped over random trees, bushes, and eaves. Like I say, consumerist nature is on the mend. We're getting back on track. Whether that's a good thing or not, is up for debate.

Covid 19?

But look. The past week has seen me have a proper pint, a proper manicure, and a proper large tea in a takeaway cup with skimmed milk please from Costa. With these pleasures back in my life, it's easy to feel a little bit Covid Schmovid. You know. 'Coronavirus? I don't know her. I think she goes to another school.' Now that the sun is shining and many people are happy about that, it's easy to forget the end times of the past year.

But hold your horses, people. Before we move into a giddy whirl of social plans and exciting outdoor pursuits with five more people or one more household (for at least the next five minutes at the time of writing!) let's stop and think. It's healthy to take stock before beckoning a big life change your way. We need a minute. We need time to ponder the pleasures we derived from being cooped up. Obviously there was very little real fun in staying in. But by the power of Grayskull, I've boxed off some excellent telly this year. I've seen some great films, read some cracking books, and filled my ears with the best podcasts. Let's not forget what has seen us through. As I prepare for a summer of sneezing outdoors with no WiFi, let's give some honourable mentions to the art that's fuelled us all during the first part of 2021.

In no particular order here are my personal highlights...

Line of Duty
If you know, you know. Move on. But if you haven't watched it yet, start at the beginning and get involved. It's a thrilling, pacy drama, with just enough tongue in cheek knowingness to make it rip-roaringly enjoyable too. The last episode of the current series is on Sunday and I will be bereft afterwards. Join the national conversation. It's great.

Gill Biggeloe, known on Shrine of
Duty as Bomchickawowwow for 
her breathy sexuality and 
outstanding curly blow-dry.

Shrine of Duty
My favourite podcast this year. A companion episode to Sunday night's Line of Duty, drops early doors on Wednesday morning. It's just as exciting as the telly programme. And funny as frig with it. Listen to Brendan, Hannah, and Rebecca obsess over every possibly theory, and feel part of something bigger than a mere TV programme. There's also previous series guides if you're playing catch up. Worth your time. Defo.

See? Right up my street.

The Bold Type
Netflix told me I'd like this but I ignored them. Then my brother and sister-in-law did, so I gave it a chance. It is fab stuff! Three millennial women working at a glossy magazine in NYC with great fashion, sexy boyfriends, and pacy plots. But... it's feminist as all get out. The three friends are totally supportive of each other, and women in general. Bitchiness is nowhere to be seen. Topics covered are genuinely educational - from breast cancer, to egg-freezing, to sexuality, to miscarriage, to consent, to ageing, to representation, to career planning - it informed and entertained me whilst I felt supported by women who had my back. I identify most with the magazine's editor because I'm closer in age (and she's really cool so OF COURSE that's me) but there's someone there for everyone. I'd have loved to have watched this as a teen. 

Promising Young Woman
This was Oscar nommed all over the show and won Best Original Screenplay mere hours ago. It's got a couple of Baftas under its belt too. Available on Sky and NOW, this sort of thriller, sort of revenge playbook, sort of hard-to-describe film blew my tiny mind. The opening scene had me yelling YES at the telly. I might have even clapped. After that, it's hard to summarise but here I go.* It's a film that articulates the anger some women feel at living within a rape culture, whilst highlighting the internalised misogyny other women display when faced with evidence of that same culture. There. That's my stab at an elevator pitch. Either way, it's a very clever film. Totally gripping. And, to my mind, one that really emphasises the lived experience of the film reviewer. I've not done an exhaustive study by any means, but the one older male reviewer I'd read beforehand, didn't get it. And in some ways, that's fine. It wasn't made for him. But the women, particularly young women, who have rated it, seem to understand the rage much more. If you can watch it - and take care. TW sexual assault and rape - then it's worth a look.

Just Eat It
How marvellous. A book written by a proper nutritionist with qualifications and ev, who encourages you to eat the food you like. I devoured - pun completely intended - this book. Recommended by my sister, it basically encourages you to eat when you're hungry and stop when you're full. I know, right? BAT SHIT. But there we have it. The secret to a healthier mindset around food. It's also packed with lots of positivity about body types, keeping things real in terms of expectations, and general good vibes about loving yourself. I read it just as my weekly WW meetings kicked in again. I've gone back to them so I could see my mates and have a laugh but my mind's definitely shifted about the whole shebang. Could be for you if you're sick of diets. Or if you want to feel good about yourself all the time, instead of only when you've lost weight.

Bob Mortimer
This isn't new but 2021 was when I found myself watching it. Fairly regularly too. If you enjoy Would I Lie To You, you'll know Bob Mortimer is the absolute king. He sprinkles his magic and makes everything piss funny. So fortuitously for the world, someone has cobbled together his lies and truths on YouTube. It's about fifty minutes long. I know! But on the nights in January when I struggled to sleep, putting this on my phone at a low volume and resting it next to my ear, did the trick. Because I was happy to be feeling joy, or because Bob's voice is strangely hypnotic? Not sure. Either way, it's brill.

Look, if you're out and about, meeting up, eating on pavements and drinking in gardens, I'm made up for you. No really, I am. But if you're taking it easy, cautiously dipping your toe in society at a more gentle pace, then this list might break up your week. My highlights from 2021 so far. There are certainly worse things you could be doing.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*I am fasciated by the response this film provokes, in particular the differences men and women display in their reaction. If I were ever called upon to do a dissertation again, I'd design a questionnaire and compare reactions to Promising Young Woman between people representing all sorts of demographics. Age is something else that would interest me to break down. But anyway. As I'm no longer studying anything anywhere, I'll just have to imagine it. As you were.

Be Mindful About Norwegian Blankets...

Smith and Dench, lost in
Florence. The little known
prequel to Home Alone:
Lost in New York.

In 1985's Room With a View, Judi Dench and Maggie Smith are wandering the backstreets of Florence when they get lost. 'Two lone females in an unknown city. Now that's what I call an adventure' Judi asserts. It always reminds me of a holiday I once had. 2005. Oslo. Me and my mate. Two women with open minds and Ryanair tickets, living the dream. We were there for five days in May. My main memory is there was a lot of light. We'd be sitting outside a bar at one in the morning, the sky still blue, wondering why we were yawning past ourselves. It was a cracking holiday. Properly good fun. Two lone females in an unknown city, having a right good adventure.

Oslo. Blankets. The dream.

The reason I bring this up now, is I've been having flashbacks. Every time I see a pub or restaurant advertise their post-lockdown opening, it's got Oslo 2005 written all over it. Why? Because back then, my mate and I had a plan. We were going to bring home one of the features of outdoor Norwegian life that we had loved. We were on a mission. The feature we were bringing back? Simple. Blankets in beer gardens. You know. For when it's well into the night, you're still drinking, but the only seats are outside in the cold. Oslo was full of it. Every bar we passed had a pile of blankets outside. There were often heaters as well. Sometimes big umbrellas and screens. For a country with large parts of the year in the dark, they had adapted to their climate. They weren't using chilly night-time weather as a reason to stay home. Outdoor boozing under a cosy Ikea blanket - we've all got them, right? - was one of the take-home memories of the trip. 

Well hang on to your hats because sixteen years and one pandemic later, we've done it. My mate and I have successfully introduced outdoor blankets to the UK. You're welcome! For a country that's cold most of the time, I've no idea why it hasn't happened before now. Norway was on it years ago. It seems the UK needed a global pandemic to realise the full potential of outdoor service. But it's not just blankets in bars that the pandemic has nudged into being. There are other adaptations that the COVID has ushered in that I want to stay. When 'the new normal' became a phrase last year, it was generally accepted it meant we would never return to the freedoms we once took for granted. Now, I don't think it's as bleak as that. Perhaps the new normal is a hybrid experience. Consisting of the ability to socialise and leave the house, combined with the best bits of lockdown ingenuity. For those that care, here's what lockdown features I hope will continue. 

There was a lot of this in 2020

Meal Kits
From March 2020 I celebrated every weekend with a takeaway. But their regular inclusion in my week meant they lost their specialist status. Whilst I was happy to have a chippy tea for 42nd birthday, I wanted to up my game for my 43rd. There are so many restaurants, nationwide, that adapted and sold meal kits for special occasions. Several of them are continuing to do so, and I'm made up.

 
Streaming Films
I can't wait to go to the cinema again. That's a basic fact. But having new releases be available from the comfort of my home, has been brilliant. If my job were busier, or I had little kids, or I wasn't a fan of crowds, it would make being a film fan way easier. I hope the gap between cinema releases and home streaming continues to be teeny and we get the best of both worlds. 

PJ Days
In the olden days I worked from home two days a week. Looking back, I have no idea why I wore outdoor clothes and bothered with makeup. What an absolute waste of my time. I look forward to having regular PJ days as an established part of my week. It'll make the time I actually leave the house, something to dress up for. 

People Power

When the shit hit the fan and everything stopped, some people didn't. The NHS got plaudits and claps, and rightly so. But the pandemic drew sharp focus on the delivery drivers, the supermarket staff, and the warehouse workers. Let's never again forget people that make the world work but for crappy money and very little job security. If the highlight of my weekend is a Dominos pizza, the person that delivers it - risking their own heath whilst being swamped with orders on a Friday night - deserves a decent tip and a tonne of respect. In the future, we must remember the wide range of people and roles we rely on, to both function as a society as well as make things lovely.

Mindful Pleasures
It's easy to say now, but we can't take things for granted again. For some, it'll be the live giggles of their grandkids that they've missed. For others perhaps it's family get togethers in general. Or maybe people have missed the freedom to escape and go on holiday. For me, the thing I've craved  - forgive me for being shallow - is the first sip of a draft pint. I've had the first sip of a draft pint thousands of times in my life. I pledge never again to take it for granted. Whether it's team sports, travel, or family stuff, it's the simple pleasures that sustain us. I'm planning to be aware of them, always, and never assume they're in infinite supply.

So there we have it. Shops are browsable. Restaurants are visitable. Families are meetable. I'll be doing all those things in due course. But first, let me sit outside, grab a blanket, and enjoy the first sip of my draft beer. Being mindful and grateful at all times, of course. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

'When Do Parents Sleep?' and Other Burning Questions?

Last week I journeyed to a foreign land. Many of you live there already. Some may be regular visitors. There'll be others, like me, that arrive and know nothing of its customs and traditions. The learning curve is steep; every moment providing a hands on lesson in alien life. Nothing is familiar. Nothing makes sense. Reason is useless. The land is established and set in its ways. It will not change for a visitor. The visitor must twist themselves into unrecognisable shapes for their own survival. It's only now, a week on, I can say I made it back. I am OK. There is no irreversible damage. 

'What happened last week?' I hear no one shout. Well, dear Reader, let me tell you. Last week I spent thirty hours as the primary caregiver for two human children. I was put in charge of kids! For over a day and a night! And I survived! I visited the Parent/Guardian Land that many inhabit every day and I have one question. How the frig do you do it? 

The family sitch that required emergency childcare, meant I got to break lockdown and spend time with my niece and neph. So obvs I jumped at the chance and I would again. But blimey, I've seen some shit. I've witnessed a world so unlike my own that it's taken some time to process. In order to aid my re-entry into Child-Free Land, I've made a note of what I learnt. For those that follow, I will light the way in unchartered waters. Make use of me and my travels. I will guide you.

After thirty hours of child care I learnt that...

• There is no time for personal hygiene. I did not wash my hair. My shower was less than a minute and toilet time was accompanied by small people outside the door asking when I was coming back. When do parents have a bath? 

• There is no time for podcasts or news. I didn't check Twitter, listen to my daily news podcasts (plural) or watch any sort of news bulletin over the entire time. How do parents know what's happening in the world? Where do current affairs and politics fit in? 

• The only music allowed is their music. Disney will have benefited handsomely from the accepted playlist on our car journeys. Aha, Wham, and nineties Eurovision writers won't have done. When do you listen to your own music? In the bath you don't get to have?

• It was explained I was not allowed to apply my makeup in private. It was, in fact, a spectator sport. A stool was dragged into my bedroom to make observation optimal. I was then employed (for free!) as a hair and makeup artist to two small humans who had very clear ideas about the colours they wanted that I did not have. Should I have bought more colours? 

• Meals become important. And if not meals, then snacks. I thought kids didn't eat that much, and they don't. But they eat often. I had not realised this. Conversely, I had less meals than normal because when I found I was hungry, we were embroiled in other activities that could not be paused just for me and my needs. When do you even eat?

• Food is a complex issue. I managed to stretch the 'Party Time with Nicky' vibe over the entire period. That meant food was mostly pizza, crisps, toasted sandwiches, and cake. Any longer and I'd have felt the need to introduce a vegetable. I have no idea how that would have gone and I'm lucky I never had to face it. How do you get kids to eat non-party food?

• A playground is always a winner. We were tired, cold, and bored of the park that until that moment had only daffodils and ducks to divert. But then a playground was spotted. Spirits were lifted, bars were climbed, and a firefighter's pole was enjoyed by all. What if there are no playgrounds? 

• Three films in thirty hours is not a maintainable rate. However, Cinderella, Moana and Gnomeo and Juliet did give me a small window to make a cup of tea and sit down. How do you resist putting on films every minute of every day?

• There is no sitting down. Unless film. See previous point. When do you sit down?

• Children wake up early. They insist on adult participation in the day, long before the adult is ready. Are you ever ready? Do you get used to it?

• There is not enough sleep. When do you sleep?

• It is tiring. Aren't you tired? 

• So tiring. Seriously. When do parents actually sleep? 

My shift is over. 

I seem to have hit a recurring theme so I'll stop. But there we are. My initial thought and observations from my travelling experiences. After dropping off my charges and returning home, I struggled to stay awake but made it until 10pm. It was like jet lag - I had to power through. I woke at 8am. A ten-hour kip! I'd love to say I was refreshed but it took a few more days to get right. Again, like jet lag. I had returned from Parent/Guardian Land and my body clock was frigged. Of course now, a week later, I have only happy memories. It was actually top bantz to be honest. Whether I was applying guy liner, desperately negotiating for another five minutes in bed, or singing along to Hakuna Matata in the car, I can reminisce about my holiday exploits with fondness and joy. And now I've returned to Child-Free Land, I can catch up on the news, baths, and sleep, whilst looking forward to future trips. Next time, though, I must remember to pack the Red Bull.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Stick a Fork in Me, I'm (Nearly) Done...

OK, Sophia.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: This week I will not be talking about editing. I PROMISE. I feel it's important to state that from the off, because when I looked back over my - brace yourselves - 'archive' I can see a recurring theme. Since starting the writing of Assembling the Wingpeople in June 2019, I've written about editing (and all it's rubbishness) a total of nine times. NINE TIMES. Jeez. It's such a long-winded, labourious process, you'd have thought I'd want to ignore it on the one day a week I write this blog. But no, it's riddled throughout my back-catalogue - not a euphemism - and is everywhere. What's more, there are four other posts in the same time period where I moan about writing in general. Like my life is hard or something. Utterly ridiculous. 

It could be worse.

I am charmed, lucky, and living my dream. When I put it in that context, it's hilarious that I've moaned so much. There are approximately 31,864 other jobs I could be doing that would be less marvellous than writing novels. Just because it's a bit hard sometimes is no reason to whinge at the world. But look, it's easy for me to say that this week. This week everything feels wonderful. This week, I am cooking on gas, rocking and rolling, and have the productivity of well-oiled factory machinery. I'm in the zone, folks. Whoop with me, people, whoop with me.

The reason for my buoyancy is clear. It's all coming together. After sixteen months of what I believe is known as titting around, I'm almost there. Big things have happened over the past weeks that mean the next stage is done. So, in no particular order, here's where we're at.

• The front cover has been chosen.

• The interior document - AKA the actual book - has been formatted and completed.

• The title has been set up with the print on demand company.

• An ISBN has been assigned for both print and ebook.

Niiiice

I mean, look at that list. Go on, look! So many boxes ticked off. It's such a nice feeling to have actual things completed. For so long it's been unending tinkering. Now, it's a real-life plan of action. The Autumn publishing date is doable. 

I've done it before and I can
do it again has become a 
personal mantra.

Of course there's still stuff to do. I'm currently working on the blurb. This has become all the more important now that the cover is being worked on as we speak. No blurb, no completed cover, so I need to get cracking. Of course I have a couple already. It's easy enough to write a bog-standard blurb. It's even easier to write a crappy one. I've got those types of blurb in abundance. But I need more than bog-standard or crappy. I know. Get me with my standards. I need a fabulous one. An enticing one. One that will have you clicking BUY NOW the second you finish reading it. With the thrilling whirl of satisfaction that this week has brought, I am happy to share my works in progress. Just to give you the gist. In no particular order here's what I've got so far....

What happens when you hit middle-age without the societal brownie points of a loving relationship, kids, or a high-flying career? What happens when you throw in divorce, bereavement, and a menopausally-induced fling? Tilda, Bea, and Stewart are dealing with lives that haven't worked out how they imagined. Can they find meaning and purpose when their circumstances - and even their own personalities - are against them?

Or... 

Tilda has uprooted her life and is coming to terms with starting over. Now she needs to overcome the limitations of her own personality and relax enough to find a friend. Bea has embarked upon an exciting fling, but dealing with the need for commitment whilst riding the menopausal rollercoaster is not easy. Stewart is ignoring his business and annoying everyone he knows. Now he's got some decisions to make and needs help from someone in his past. Can Tilda, Bea, and Stewart bring purpose to their lives whilst navigating a society that struggles to value childfree singles over a certain age?

Both of those are far too wordy. I'd never have bothered reading to the end, myself. If you did, then good for you. We're probably related. Here's the one I'm leaning towards...

Is it possible for Tilda to uproot her life and start over when her personality avoids risk-taking at every opportunity? Is steadfastly-single Bea really in love with Mal, or is her HRT causing emotional turbulence? And how long can Stewart use his estranged father's death as the reason he has given up on himself?  

Three people; three works in progress, trying to find meaning and purpose without the societal standards of spouse, career, and kids. Perhaps all it takes is one great weekend of old friends, nineties tunes, and reconnection. 

So there we have it. Blurbs a-plenty. I'm going to let them stew for a while, whittle away a little more, and make a decision soon. But just the fact I'm at this point, feels amazing. Writing. It's living the dream whilst feeling overwhelmed by the process for so bloody long. And then finally, it's almost done. Hurrah for writers, hurrah for me, hurrah for us all! And I didn't mention editing once.

Have a lovely week, folks.