God Rest Ye Merry, Blog Readers...

Then step right in, young man.

A few years ago I was chatting to a friend who's Muslim. She was telling me how she didn't celebrate Christmas but still loved this time of year.' Why?' I asked. 'Because...' she said, '...it's when the shops have all the good cheese. So here we are. Christmas day has arrived. And if you celebrate, glad tidings of comfort and joy to you! If you don't, then please, whatever you do, make sure you enjoy all the good cheese. 

This is the first time that the Monday blog coincides with Christmas Day. (Since 2017, when I didn't bother.) It doesn't matter. Tomorrow's the big one in my family. That's when my house will be chocka. Full of siblings, siblings-in-law, their kids, my parents, my brother's friend, and a dog. It'll be unhinged chaos that will sap every bit of energy I've managed to conserve in the days prior. It'll also be shit loads of fun. Today is merely the pre-amble. Hence why I'm quite happy to be posting this now. 

But first, as is tradition, a look back to Christmas of yesteryear. Please do scan the photo. Take in every detail and soak up those seventies vibes. I say seventies - it's the brown-hue of the decor - but I think this was actually 1980. My family were never on trend. Check out my bowl cut for evidence. Likewise, my red dungarees. (I had a matching pair in blue) They were all I seemed to wear when I was two. You want more historical clues? Christmas cards hooked over a sagging piece of string; a pink tinsel star that's already seen better days even though it's in the infancy of its use; my dad's period piece shirt collar. It's all there. A primary source to excite historians. 

Meanwhile, I'm enjoying my second festive season. Do I know it's Christmas? Do I have a clue how giddy a neighbour's fairy lights will make me in forty-odd years? Do I have an inkling how much Future Me will buzz off circling the Christmas Radio Times despite the variety of streaming services she can watch anytime? I'd say, no. I look a bit dense. Mindlessly pointing to a tree, presumably being urged on by my mum behind the camera. 

I don't remember this picture being taken, nor this specific Christmas. What I do know is, it must have been fun. It didn't put me off enjoying future Christmas'. I mean, I over enjoy them to the hilt! Whatever went down in 1980 (and the subsequent years) kept my festive spirits buoyant. And to think, I didn't even know the concept of good cheese, back then. Whatever your plans..

...have a lovely day, week, and rest of the year, folks.

A Five Year Roller-Coaster...

It's the last Long Ramble of 2023! Well done for making it this far. Whether you've been charting the year in Long Rambles or alternative units of measurement, it all adds to the reflective nature of this time of year, doesn't it? It could be the last Long Ramble, the last month, the last week before Christmas, or the last of all sorts of things. Either way, the final days of the year tend to prompt retrospection and contemplation.

For me, that sense of reflection is amplified times five. Why? Well, we're coming to the end of my five year diary. Had you been keeping count? A mate bought it for my 40th, so since January 2019 before turning out the light, I've opened the diary, looked at the question at the top of the page, and given it a good think before answering. It's been excellent fun. Some questions posed are simple and factually based. 'What are you reading right now?' is one example. (In 2019, I was reading Michelle Obama's, Becoming. In 2020, Ex Pats by Chris Pavone. In 2021, Caste by Isabel Wilkerson. In 2022, And Away by Bob Mortimer. And in 2023, Sali Huhges', Everything is Washable.')  Questions like that are the easiest to answer. It takes a second to record and you can be snoring, moments later.

Other questions take more effort. 'Write down something that inspired you today.' That's the question from 10th January and it takes a bit more thought. Somedays, nothing will have inspired me. Other times, I'll have got inspiration from every little thing. My diary tells me that in 2019 the thing that inspired me was, 'A woman in the BBC Question Time audience had a really eloquent view on why she doesn't feel sorry for T. May.' Fair play. Subsequent years chart my ego kicking in. In 2022 I said, 'I began to reread Leeza McAuliffe and it's great!' If you can't let your buoyant self-esteem fly free in your diary, where the hell can you? 

Of course, the period of time from January 2019 until today, has seen some shit. It neatly straddles the world's awareness of Covid 19. On the 22nd March, the question was, 'Jot down a news story from today'. My answers - that would have been given only the briefest consideration at the time - are an honest-to God historical source. In 2019 I answered with, 'Ha! Fucking Brexit! And Robert Mueller has submitted his report to Trump.' In 2020, it was, 'McDonalds has closed due to Covid 19. People told not to go out unless it's urgent (and as long as not vulnerable) and stay 2m away.' In 2021, I recorded that, 'B. Johnson talking shite about COVID again. N. Sturgeon not guilty of misleading parliament. In 2022, I wrote, 'Kyiv still being bombed and Mariupol decimated. Nazanin Zagari Radliffe is home.' Finally this year I noted, 'Boris Johnson grilled by Partygate committee for 4 hours.' What a triggering snapshot of five years of rolling news. It almost makes me want to retreat under the covers. 

Hands down, my favourite page.
That's because amidst some 
sensible, considered thoughts 
about my favourite literary 
character, in 2021 was clearly 
bladdered AF. 

For those that can't decipher 
Pissed Nicky's writing, it says, 
'Tonight England lost to
on Italy penalties. My Eng Lit
character would be
Bassanio from the Merchant
of Venice.'

Pandemics and politics aside, the diary has also charted events more specific to me. The rise in my bad mood and body temperature, for example, as the peri menopause kicked in. It's seen the birth of two of the four of my gang of nieces and nephs. There have been four weddings - my brother and sister-in-law, plus three old friends. It's also given me ample opportunity to answer a question as innocuous as, 'What made you smile today?' with, 'Not Boris Johnson.' The politics has seeped through, regardless of question. The last five years have been quite the ride. 

But I think the best thing about a five year diary, (as opposed to a yearly one) is that you see progress so easily. In 2019, the question, 'If you could have a superpower just for today, what would it be?' was answered with, 'To not have a sore knee.' Every subsequent year on that day, I've looked back and thought, 'Ahhhh, remember when I had a sore knee. How fab that I don't have a sore knee anymore.' (Vitamin D, folks. It's a cure-all!) Likewise, the change from pre-HRT and post-HRT in 2021-22 has lifted the mood on every entry since. When I've had a bad day, or a felt a bit meh, looking back at how shit I felt in previous years, is a real boost.

So, the diary's coming to an end and I feel a bit sad. There's just a couple of weeks left to record. With all the ups and downs that the past five years have seen, it's been my one constant. (A bit melodramatic, but you get my drift.) What am I going to do when it's over? How will I know how far I've come if I'm not inadvertently writing it down each night? How will I chart political turmoil without my trusty bedtime companion? Well stop your worrying. A couple of birthdays ago, another friend bought me another five year diary. It's as if my mates know me really well. It's been kept on ice, ready and waiting, for January 1st 2024. The time is nigh.

Honestly, even if I didn't have it waiting for me, I'd be buying myself another one. Self-reflection is so useful. It helps form your inner voice, it brings clarity to the swirling fog of ideas, fears, dreams, and opinions. It sorts out your head, even when it feels like it's doing anything but. My experience of writing one or two lines a night, has been as useful as writing daily essays. I might not write pages anymore (I was far more waffly during the teenage diary years) but one line's reflection on a nightly basis has become an essential part of my routine. So now we're approaching the official handover protocol. If you listen carefully, at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve you might hear me cry, 'The Diary is dead! Long live the Diary!'

Have a lovely week, folks.

Empty Heads and Spicy WhatsApps...

Anyone seen some WhatsApps?

It could happen to any of us. Just when we want to revisit an old WhatsApp convo – perhaps to check plans we’ve made, or remind ourself of the date something happened - we realise 5000 of our messages are missing. What could have happened? Who knows? Perhaps it’s ‘something to do with the app going down and then coming back up again, but somehow automatically erasing all the things between that date when it went down and the moment when it was last backed up.’ Lolz.
 
Yep, it’s the COVID inquiry. Again. This week’s testimony forced me to look at my own WhatsApp groups. The messaging service barely existed when I had a proper job. Social media was in its infancy. The upshot being, I just can't imagine typing disparaging messages about colleagues to other colleagues. That stuff was saved for chats in the pub. I was also told - back when I had a proper job - never to write down notes in meetings that I wouldn't want read out in court. I’m probably less cautious now, what with me never having meetings these days, but still. Food for thought. Anyway, back to WhatsApp. When I scroll through my regular chats, the only one that feels slightly secret is the parent-free sibling convo we've got set up. It was mostly used when my parents were stranded in Heathrow after snow had grounded their plane. For two days, me and my sibs chatted at length about what we could do to help (not much in actuality). It seems, if my WhatsApps are ever required in a public inquiry, 'Mum’ll be fewmin,' is as spicy as it gets. So that's a relief. 
 

Writing News
I'm still chilling, still hanging around, still waiting on other people to work their magic before my next big pre-publication push. But you know what? It’s so good. Regardless of what I’ve been doing for the past two years, whether I’ve been away on holiday, doing mundane chores, or dropping off to sleep, I’ve never not been thinking about my novel. Now that it’s in the hands of someone else, I’m enjoying a truly empty head. It’s glorious. 

 

I can't lie. I was rooting for 
Alan. What a legend he was.

Culture
Last week I told you about The Murder Game I was reading. Well, I got that recommendation from this article about cosy Christmas mysteries. I’m now onto Ada Moncrief’s, Murder Most Festive which is more seasonal murder fun. I’ve also branched out in my Christmas film viewing. As outlined in this blog from 2018, festive films can be titles that simply get broadcast at Christmas. Think back to Radio Times’ from yesteryear. What sort of blockbusters were fanfared as appointment TV? This week I’ve seen off Die Hard (not a trad Christmas film but perfect viewing at Christmas - end of), Clockwise, Lethal Weapon, and Clear and Present Danger. It seems I’m hoovering up the action thriller/John Cleese genres right now.
 
Food and Drink
When I was at sixth form college, for reasons that now escape me, myself and a couple of friends got into the habit of having a daily sausage barm from the canteen. Except instead of a bread roll we’d have a teacake. Plus lots of tomato ketchup.  Like I said, the reasons escape me, but it was my sixteen year old self’s staple meal during my A Levels. Last week I remembered, and revisited it for my Sunday breakfast. It might be veggie sausages now but the concept’s still sound. Get onto veggie sausage tea cakes! They’re the best.  
 
Out and About
My mate had a pre-Christmas dinner party which sounds well classy. It was, apart from my inclusion. I can't pull off stylish elegance for a second, but regardless, a good time was had by all. Then, the following day, we had a family meal for my ma's birthday. Pre-lash and post-lash was round my gaff, where I continued to be not-at-all-classy-whilst-still-having-the-best-of-times.
 

This week I'm away. A few days in lovely, wintery Scotland. Will it snow? Will I post all sorts on Insta? Will I overdose on cullen skink? Who can say. Either way, come back next week for the last Long Ramble of the year. You'd be gutted to miss it. 
 
Have a lovely week, folks.

Too Much To Say, As Per...

TOO much to say.

Welcome to the latest Weekly Update. That thing's happened again. The thing that occurs sometimes when I sit down to write this blog. Wanna peek behind the wizard's curtain for a minute? Excellent. 

I had a brilliant opening topic all lined up. You know the drill. I start the Weekly Update with something topical; a story from the news or maybe the seasonal times we're in. I give you one or two paragraphs, tempting you to read on, getting you comfy, offering a LOL or two. Then the Update kicks in. That's the routine, week in, week out. 

This time, that didn't happen. I had the topic lined up. I'd made some notes and knew how I was going to riff on them. Then things went awry. As I started to type, it became clear. I had TOO much to say. I typed and typed. Next thing you know, I've got a whole blog post about the random topic staring back from the screen. It's way too much for this opening - your time's precious. But look, it's OK. I'm going to polish it up and use it for the last Long Ramble of the year. In a couple of week's time, you'll see just what it was I was so verbose about. It'll be a good read, I promise.

In the meantime...

This is exactly like my writing group.
Except we're in a pub, and no one
is sitting on the floor.

Writing News

I've seen a colourised front cover and chosen some specifics about the design. It's looking FAB and I can't wait to share it with you. Soon, I hope. I also went to my fortnightly writing group on Wednesday. What I love is that the same group of people have heard me read consecutive extracts of Leeza's story for the past eighteen months. They know the characters almost as well as I do. This week, one of my writing friends made a comment about a phrase Leeza had used. She wasn't sure it was something Leeza would say in that situation. As soon as she pointed it out, I knew she was right. It's fab when people know my characters that well. (I'm now trying to rethink the vocab in question and decide how to convey the same sentiments differently.)

Culture

Culture isn't all art galleries and boxsets. (And if you read this regularly you'll know it's usually just boxsets here.) No, the past weeks have seen me watch large chunks of the Covid Inquiry. Now, I know what you're thinking. That's not art! And you'd be right. But we, as a country, went through a seismic cultural event. As much as a pandemic is rooted in science and medicine, its effects are also cultural. We endured it together for more than a year as it effected every aspect of our lives. As much as I struggled to watch Matt Hancock - he was being questioned on Thursday and Friday - I knew it was important to do so. Call it closure or therapy, but seeing the same politicians that stood at the podium spinning bullshit for a year, be forced to answer questions they're trying to evade, feels necessary. It feels worth my time. Boris Johnson gets a turn on Wednesday. Let's hope I've got the stomach for it. Moving on... if that doesn't float your boat, try this. I'm reading Tom Hindle's, The Murder Game. New Years Eve, a big house, and a dead body. Right up my street.

Stollen. A little overdone
but oh so tasty.

Food and Drink

I did the food shop for Christmas last week. At least, the stuff that can be frozen or shoved in a cupboard, that is. If I can avoid supermarkets in the latter stages of the Christmas build up, I'll be well happy. But there's a problem. It seems all my brain wants me to eat is stollen. As someone who's mantra (one of them) is, I CAN MAKE IT BETTER THAN THAT, when she sees supermarket cakes, I searched for a recipe. This is the one I used, and it made perfectly lovely, big-slab-with-a-cup-of-tea stollen that I'll revisit next year.

Zara's Hub in Childwall.

Out and About

My writing group takes place in a pub near Lime Street station. Last Wednesday, as I made my way there, I saw the Christmas market outside St. George's Hall. I had no time to wander round but enjoyed the vibes before heading for the warmth of the pub. It looks great, and even though it doesn't sound worthy of an Out and About mention, I'm going to make an effort to go back on another evening. Earlier that day, I'd had brunch in Childwall's Zara's Hub, where their decs all but forced me to take a photo. All in all, last Wednesday's Out and Aboutness was festive AF.

More next week, if you're game. See you here, yes? Excellent.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Hurtling, Reminiscing, Laughing...

🎵What's that coming over the hill, is it a monster? Is it a monsterrrrrr? 🎵 

Noooo, silly. It's December!

The final month in the year of our Lord, twenty  twenty-three, is imminent. Do you remember the end of January when I informed the world we'd boxed off a twelfth of the year? Now look where we are. Time flies when you're counting down the year in twelfths. Not that I actually did that, but you get the drift. With the end of the year hurtling towards us, it's always good to reflect and remember what we've accomplished. So without further ado, here's this week's update.

Writing News

I've accomplished nothing! Not a sausage. There's literally no writing reflection possible. Apart from this blog and some emails, my tippy-tappy-typing's been on the down low while other people do things. Patience, I believe, is a virtue. Sadly I'm not very virtuous.

 

Saltburn

Culture

Now this I can reflect on. Last week I watched Saltburn at the Odeon. I walked in knowing nothing other than the brief trailer, but walked out full of beans. (I imagine Barry Norman's had similar experiences.) Saltburn is a dark romp: creepy, weird, and funny. At least that's my view. Others do exist. The more viscerally graphic scenes amused me, although one guy across the aisle was audibly repulsed. Larks! And now, for pure escapism, I'm rereading the romance, Christmas at Frozen Falls. It's festively joyful - hurrah! - but even better, the bulk of it's set in Lapland. With every page, I feel like I'm there. Full of snowy vistas, reindeer, and huskies. Fair play, Kiley Dunbar. That's a lovely skill to have.

Asda Hawaiian pizza.
As it ever was.

Food and Drink

Last week, I revisited a childhood staple. In an attempt to see whether my memories were rose-tinted, or if it really was one of the nicer Bond teas, I bought an Asda Hawaiian pizza. (I last had one in my teens.) Despite this lapse in my aspirational pescatarianism, it was lovely. Best tea ever? No, not for a second. Perfectly lovely thing to eat whilst reminiscing? You betcha!

Out and About

I spent Thursday with a group of friends. I've known them for decades but don't see them often. The reason for the reunion was very sad. But catching up with people I laugh the most with, was wonderful. I like that I'm at an age where people I haven't seen for five or so years are still the people who know me best. When I was fifteen, this would simply not be the case. 

Here's to lots of laughs with funny friends as we enter the final glorious twelfth.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Consciously Hibernating...

Last week I signed off after a busy Update with, 'Next week I'm hibernating'.

And do you know what? It feels like I have. Not in the conventional sense, of course. I've not gathered moss, dragged it over to a buried nook in the garden, and got my head down for the winter. I've still gone about my week. I've been to my writing group, visited a couple of relatives, and even begun my Christmas shopping. But the rest of the time - the time when I'm not actively out and about - has been tinged with a cosy hue. I've made a concerted effort to feel the glow of the season. I've started feeling internally Christmassy.

Once the third week in December hits, that feeling will be drowned out by stress and jobs. There's no point delaying seasonal thrills for the specific Christmas week, when that specific Christmas week involves multiple supermarket visits, the blowing up of airbeds, and trying to remember how I fashioned seventeen dining chairs from the eight that my house contains. Yep, Christmas week is too late for feeling nice. It's now or never. 

So, in the spirit of sharing is caring, here's what I've been doing in the past week to feel 'nice.' Also, 'cosy,' 'warm,' 'glowing,' and 'filled with inner joy.' If I can do it, so can you. 

Nail varnish
Regular readers, or fans of my Insta will know my standard daily uniform involves black nail varnish. It's my thing. I don't suit pastels and pale colours, so black - with it's gothic undertones and 'goes with everything' vibe - is just right. But wait! Last week, at my scheduled mani, I suddenly embraced my inner Santa. I'm now sporting bright red nails! I also booked my Christmas appointment to be long enough to contain nail art. I know! Who am I? I'm a ball of Christmas cosiness, that's what!

Music
I have several Christmas playlists. As someone who's never worked in retail during December, I'm in the lucky position not to be triggered by Noddy Holder screaming, 'IT'S CHRISTMAS.' But I understand that many people are. I do, however, feel happy to leave the big guns to nearer the time. Instead, my current playlist of choice is full of instrumental stuff. The film score for Love Actually (the film may have aged badly but the music is beautiful) or the instrumental stuff from The Holiday.  The Home Alone theme is also gorgeous and adds to the joy of the season without wanting to punch the speaker that's blasting it out. Subtle music, with a festive twist. Try it.

Fairy Lights
It's still too early, IMHO, to faff about with decs and a tree. However, I've reached the point in November when I'm comfortable with fairy lights. Because of inherent laziness, I refuse to box up the strings of bulbs that cover my house. They're up all year, they just don't get switched on. Now we're mid-November, that's all changed. As of last week, when I get up, I turn on the lights in the hallway, on the landing, in the kitchen, in the living room, and in the dining room. As my house is (kinda) open plan, you can see almost all of them from the sofa. This one small change has enlivened my days, no end. 

Party Food
There's absolutely no reason why you need to wait for Christmas Eve before you crack open a tray of tempura prawns or chilli cheese bites. And Strictly Saturdays are the perfect accompaniment for a picky bits tea. Not attending an actual cocktail party in lieu of slobbing on the sofa, watching Layton Williams, topping up the prosecco, and reaching for a no-duck spring roll, is far more preferable. Get involved!

Candles
Asda have a candle called Spruce and Snow. They've also got Winter Forest and Winter Spice. I know because I've bought them all. It's a scientific fact that a flickering flame is the loveliest thing. And the hint of pine and woodland aromas are spot on. 

Aromatic Kitchen Smells
There's some food smells that are quintessentially seasonal. I made my Christmas cake on Saturday, and the whole process filled my heart with joy. Oranges, port, chocolate, mixed spice, cinnamon, cherries, almonds... the aroma that comes from the pan as it simmers, is divine. Alternatively, some people get their kicks from slow-cooked ham. Or mulled wine. Whatever smells tick your boxes, seek them out!

So there you have it. The basic things that have sent my inner glow into a full-on fiery furnace. Like I said, I've not technically hibernated. It's been another fairly busy week. But when I've been at home, the time for changing into my Pjs has got earlier. The candles have been lit. The fairy lights have twinkled. Cooking the tea has been soundtracked by John Williams. It's as close to hibernation as an awake person can be. If you want to feel some inner glow, there are worse things you could do.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Sharing the Load and Party Tea...

Starling, the online bank, have created an online tool for couples. Called Share the Load, it invites you to input the total number of hours you and your partner spend on household chores. It then calculates whether you live in domestic harmonious balance or whether one person is having all their needs met by their knackered drudge of a spouse.

 

Obviously I had a go. Instead of actual hours, I guesstimated the percentage of time my partner and I spend completing the list of jobs suggested. Things like cleaning and tidying, laundry, meal planning, and feeding children. (You want to try it? Click here, it's fun!) I whizzed through, breaking down the share for each of us, until I got the end result. It appears I do 45% of the chores, compared with my partner's 55%. 

There are two things that spring to mind. Firstly, I do way more than I thought. Forty-five percent?! Blimey. The second is that I consider this an active stand against the patriarchal lumps that let their partners do everything. According to the website, only 29% of couples share the load equally. I imagine that percentage is even lower when the data is disaggregated and focused on straight couples only. 

Either way, I'm doing a good thing for the world. As a modern woman in a hetero relationship, I must subconsciously feel it's my duty to do less than half of the household shit. Bobbling along at the 45% mark, is my way of redressing the historic imbalance that plagued the generations of my foremothers. World, you're welcome!

Writing News

We're in a small amount of limbo right now. Covers and pictures and bits of technical stuff are being discussed and worked out. I keep rereading sections of text and changing the odd word here and there, but I'll be treading water for a bit longer, I think.

Photo by Johan Persson.

Culture

Kenneth Branagh's currently giving the West End his King Lear and I got to see it last week. Despite reviewers giving it - as a friend commented - a solid 3 stars across the board, I really enjoyed it. At two hours, it's a breezy whizz through the text and you can be in the pub for 9.30pm. King Lear aficionados may well feel some valuable essence has been skipped. But for me - someone who read Lear once for Uni, can't remember much at all, and can now only think of it in terms of Succession - I was more than happy to be in the audience. 

Metz Cream Earl Grey

Food and Drink

Have we ever talked about tea? It must've come up before now. Yeah? No? Can't remember? Well let me fill you in. Long story short, I drink gallons of the stuff. People talk about not feeling alive before their morning coffee, but for me it's tea. Decaf tea with skimmed milk, to boot. Not even riddled with stimulants but I'm still addicted. Weird huh!? But lo! I've recently discovered two recent riffs on my beloved morning brew. First of all, Metz Cream Earl Grey. Yep, you heard. It was the tea I was offered in Canada whilst travelling on the VIA trains. VIA's teabag of choice turned out to be the nicest tea I've ever had. When I got home, I scoured the Internet and managed to source a box of 25 teabags from Etsy. Postage from Canada meant each teabag has cost me over a pound so they're rationed to one drink every Saturday morning. They run out in January. 

Homemade Chai - 
recipe here.

But more lo! I've got a backup plan. When I want a truly special cup of tea - a specialty, if you will - I'm going with homemade chai. Ginger, nutmeg, cardamom, cinnamon, teabags, water, and milk. Oh, and I stir through a bit of vanilla paste. It takes longer to make but I've generally got all the ingredients to hand. Tea? It's still My Life but now I've got a couple of pimped up options for when I want to party.

St. Pancras station

Out and About

London, baby! Yep, two days away was just what I needed. I caught up with a mate, made a new friend, saw a play, ate out, walked a lot, saw the booky Christmas tree in St. Pancras, walked through a Christmas market, and came home knackered. Next week, I'm hibernating.

See you next Monday, same time same place, yeah? Nice one.

Have a lovely week, folks.

I LOVE the Gods of the Gram...

Ah Instagram. There really is something for everyone. It's algorithmic - you KNOW this, right? - so it shows you pictures and reels based on your previous viewing. I get a lot of recipes. Food porn is real and I'm all over it. Then there's interior design porn. I follow a few accounts detailing stunning home renovations from start to finish. And then there's the regular influx of skincare and underwear. Clearly Insta thinks I'm like a seven year old boy, forever Googling bras.

See the full reel from 
@swissglory here.

But recently I've discovered a whole other vibe. Another porn kink, if you will. Somehow, somewhere, the Gods of the Gram have started sending me Swiss Travel Porn. I know, it's an actual thing! Accounts like @swissglory are forever spamming my feed and it's magical. So far there're lots of snowy scenes, trains travelling through the Alps, or Christmas lights in mountainous villages. I've no idea why I've suddenly been blessed this way but I'm loving it. Of course, there's been one major consequence from all the loveliness. I'm spending my sleepless nights planning Swiss train journeys and Christmas mini-breaks. I'm so easily influenced it's dangerous.

Writing News

I've seen two suggestions for the front cover of Leeza 2. Wooohoooo! They're both fab and it's taken me a few days to decide, but decide I have. Watch this space.

Fellow Travelers

Culture

I've been devouring box sets recently. Last week I mentioned I'd rewatched Reacher on Amazon Prime. I also boxed off Lupin on Netflix - the tale of a good-guy thief whose crimes are based on Arsène Lupin, the gentleman thief of the classic novels. This week I've started a couple of new series. Frustratingly, they're only dropping one episode a week. Lessons in Chemistry is on Apple TV. I read the book a couple of weeks ago and happily, the TV show is doing it justice. You want an exceptional female scientist battling 1960s patriarchal academia? It'll be right up your street! The second new series is Fellow Travelers on Paramount +. A dual timeline switching between 1950s and 1980 America. We follow two gay men, working in Washington, having to hide their sexuality amidst the political upheavals of the time. The script's a bit clunky but the unabashed commitment to depicting graphic sex scenes that truly develop the characters, is admirable. Read more about it here. 

Pasta al ragu
from @fitgreenmind

Food and Drink

I mentioned Insta up top and my regular feed of recipes. My favourite account is one called @fitgreenmind where Maya regularly shares her vegan recipes. The thing is, they're really good. I'm not a vegan but I buzz off the creativity of veganism. This recipe for ragu is next on my list. It looks spectacular and yet the ingredient list does not. Veganism: It's proper alchemy.

Out and About

On Friday I spent the day in Warwick. The thing is, if you buy your niece vouchers for her birthday, you should probably be there to take her shopping. On top of that, I also watched her have a swimming lesson. I was definitely a Full Service Aunt that day.

Have a lovely week, folks. 

Limbo, Py-Jams, and the Reacher of my Mind...

Artist's impression of me
in my py-jams*.

The heating's on for a burst a day, I'm sleeping in PJ bottoms instead of my usual T-shirt/knickers combo, and as I type this, I'm looking out at thick fog. Yes, the warm weather appears to be over. I can officially confirm my head feels right again. Throw in the recent clock change and I'm positively fizzing with joie de vivre. I only hope you're enjoying it too. 

Soon - this very week, in fact - I have to start the Christmas admin. That means my family will be receiving an email reminding them of the Secret Santa organisation. It's not technically secret but it does mean we only buy one present for one adult family member, instead of eleven. Once that's sent, the season's officially open. Mark it in your diaries, people, we're on the way!

Writing News

I'm in a limbo period at the moment. Just waiting on some other people to get back to me. So before the madness of promotion starts, I'm cleaning up a few bits and pieces online. Last week I fixed a dodgy page on my website. It's been fine on the desktop version, but the mobile phone view wasn't showing the About Nicky page properly. I - technical term incoming - titted about for a bit and worked out what to do. I was so proud. Later, I successfully managed to switch the Twitter thread (at the side of the desktop view of this blog) for my Threads thread. (Threads thread? Does that sound right?) Whenever anything involves code I feel ridiculously proud of myself. It's like I've accurately translated** an ancient text from a long forgotten language, except it's like futuristic gobbledygook instead. Either way, I feel like an astrophysicist doing VERY TECHNICAL THINGS. Applaud me.

Reacher. Like they reached into
my head and created the image
I had for him.

Culture

As last week's blog foreshadowed, I've been filling my boots with scary films. Except, unlike last week's blog - the one that offered a wide range of viewing choices - I've only managed to work my way through the Scream franchise. I make no apologies for this. It's brilliant. But I am aware how one note my week's been. In a bid to mix things up, I revisited the Amazon Prime series, Reacher. (Alan Ritchson is SO well cast as Jack Reacher. I'm giving a standing ovation to whoever made that decision.) Apparently there's a new series coming in December and I am here for it.

Mofo marinated salmon, flatbread
shards, tomato salsa, and coriander
yoghurt. Wine is model's own.

Food and Drink

Did I tell you I had a fish man? It was long overdue what with my growing dissatisfaction with supermarket fish aisles. Now I can get my salmon skinned (not a euphemism!) and a wide range of all sorts of stuff. If you look at the picture, you'll see a recent mofo piece of salmon. (Marinaded in gochujang, soy, honey, and white wine vinegar, and cooked with ginger, chilli, and garlic. Serve with chunks of flatbread and some sort of dip. I went with natural yogurt whizzed up with coriander.)

Out and About

Nandos and bowling? Is that like Netflix and chill? I can confirm, after Friday, it is not. It's literally a chicken-based restaurant and a bowling alley. No matter! I had fun regardless. 

Have a lovely week, folks. 

*Does anyone else in the world call them py-jams? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? 

Nope. I thought not. Just my Grandma then.

**Not translated for even a second. I just found a website that would convert my Threads URL into code that could be added to the blog. I literally copied and pasted it, but still. VERY TECHNICAL THINGS.