Off You Pop, Self-Doubt...

Did you catch my TikTok? No, of course you didn't. What a question! If I used TikTok like the younguns do, I'd know that posting a short video once a week won't get me anywhere. Instead I should be recording every single thing I do, uploading willy nilly, and following a gazillion people back. But here we are. I'm forty-seven, don't need more responsibility in my life and - long story short -  I can't be arsed.

 

Just me banging on.
Find me on my socials.

But wait! It's not that simple. Last week, my determined and kind TikTok followers were treated, not only to my Monday morning chat (about writing timelines) but to a bonus Friday film. A bumper week! So what was it that made me record a second vid? What saw me take to my socials as soon as I was showered on Friday morning? Well, it was an anniversary. A 1st anniversary, in fact. Yep, on 23rd May it was one year since Leeza McAuliffe Has Loads More To Say was published. An actual year has passed. Lordy!

It's flown by. Except it feels ages ago too. Because I've immersed myself in the next book so quickly, I had to double check the dates. Can it really only be a year? 'Fraid so. Since last May I've planned and written 75000 words, read them through a few times, and am now editing with a fine tooth comb - turning the story from meh to woohoo. With all that going on, no wonder I've lost track of time.

It reminded me of one thing. The Leeza McAuliffe Stories are close to my heart. They're what I'd have wanted to read when I was younger. They're sweet, witty, poignant, and life-affirming. I know I'm blowing smoke up my arse by saying that, but I refuse to lie, in order to appear less smug. I'm SO proud of them. I love these characters, I love the everyday shenanigans that they find themselves in, and I love putting them out into the word. Self deprecation and self doubt can bugger off every so often. Now and then we need to remember what marvels we've achieved. As you were.

Writing News

It's like I said above. The whittling/editing of the wood/story continues. In my last read through, I shaved off 3000 words. It's a start. I'm still not focusing on content yet. Just the random, waffly, bulky, extra words that sneak through. (In that last sentence that would be random, waffly, and bulky.)

Culture

I know why. It's my recent weekend in mid-Wales. I spent May's first Bank Holiday in Ceredigon. In and around Aberystwyth to be exact. Beautiful scenery, a stunning coastline, and assorted Bond family in a selection of caravans. When I came back, it made total sense to rewatch. And what am I rewatching, I imagine you're shouting at your phones? I'm rewatching the 2012 BBC drama, Hinterland, of course!

 

It's set in and around Aberysytwyth - what are the odds? As well as the beautiful scenery and stunning coastline, it's daaaaaark. They've gone for the Scandinoir vibe that was massive at the time. This is not a problem, by the way. It makes for a cracking drama. One amusing thing is how it's obvious they filmed off-season. Establishing shots show crashing waves in the winter gloom, Streets I know to be jam-packed with cars and people come summer, are empty and desolate on the show. It's fun seeing places I know well, appear totally differently. Mainly bleaker, darker, and eerier than real life. 

Hello
Borth Station.

If you're interested, it's on the iPlayer. All three series. There's a loose, overarching narrative that links them together, but each murder mystery can stand alone if you want to dip in. A special shoutout goes to Series 1 Episode 4. Much of its drama takes place on Borth Station. Regular readers will know this is my happy place. Less so when it appears in a bleak detective show but it's still nice to see it pop up.

Food and Drink

BBQ season has arrived! Yes, the first BBQ of 2025 took place on Thursday. People overthink a BBQ. They assume it has to be An Event. Sometimes that's fun. But my favourite thing is when I'm about to cook tea and think, 'This might be nice on the BBQ instead.' Twenty minutes later, I've got a BBQed food item and a plate of loveliness. 

It's all about the set up, you see. Now the patio saga is over, I've got the BBQ in prime position. Right outside the kitchen door. Nipping out for a quick sizzle is well easier. I'll say it again, BBQs do not need to be a faff. There is no requirement for a sweaty man in shorts to be stuck in a corner for hours while a selection of hungry friends stand about drinking. Thursday's tea was veggie burgers and salad. A worthy opener for the season.

Adults only!

Out and About

Sometime I forget that I'm an adult with agency and can do what I like. On Saturday I went to the pub... just because. My day to day stuff is tightly planned and worked out a week ahead of time. When I get a weekend with not much on, I forget I have choices. This weekend, that was not the case! Thanks to the Manor Farm for sorting me out with lovely daytime boozing.

What have we learned this week? Very little, I'd imagine. Did you come here to learn something? Oh no, I'll have definitely disappointed you. I guess, if you want to take anything from my ramblings, it's this. It's OK to be proud of your achievements. Big yourself up now and then. Tell your inner critic to do one, and walk tall for a bit. You can always go back to self-loathing another day. Failing that, watch Hinterland. See, ALL the advice.

Have a lovely week, folks.

The Highs, the Lows...

Did you watch? Did you see? Are you OK?

Lovely JJ,
who won for Austria.

Eurovision 2025 has been and gone. I had a marvellous week, thanks for asking. From the first semi on Tuesday, I was giddy. The sparkles! The dance moves! The ear worms! It was electric. On Saturday morning, I had the pleasure of talking to Martin Adams on Riverside Radio. This is an annual treat. We talk Eurovision, disagree on our favourites, and I defend the UK song while he's largely critical. What I always hope to convey, is the sentiment that it's not about winning. Sure, for the jubilant country, it's a big deal. Fair play to Austria! But we have to get out of the mindset that if we don't place anywhere, the whole thing's a waste of time. Wrong! Even for those that tuned into Saturday's final and ignored the months-long build up, you were given a gift! Twenty-six songs, a host of singers, musicians, and dancers, wrapped up in the biggest party ever - all broadcast for you on your sofa. Stop whining and enjoy yourself. No one likes a grump.*

For those that were here last week and read my slight indifference to this year's songs, I have an update. After seeing them performed live in the week (a whole different ball game from YouTube vids) I found myself actively rooting for Finland. The POWER of the thing! It was DELIGHTFUL. A brief mention for Belgium too. They didn't qualify on Tuesday but it hasn't stopped me from adding them to my ECS playlist. Every year a select few songs make the grade and join previous favourites. This year, I've included  Belgium, Finland, Netherlands, UK, Sweden, and Austria. I imagine you'll have done similar.

By hook or by crook
I will get that word count down.

Writing News

I'm in the early stages of editing. Right now I've been reading each chapter, taking out erroneous words, simplifying cumbersome sentences, and smoothing out the general bulkiness. I'm nowhere near changing plot lines or characters yet. That's still to come. Right now it's the most basics of basics. My aim is to reduce my 75000 words count by about 10,000 words. It's a struggle. Mainly because along with the deleting and simplifying, I'm adding bits. This is not the plan. Annoyingly, however, in pursuit of clarity and flow, there are times when extra paragraphs are needed. All I can say is, it's a work in progress. 

Culture

Here's what happened. A few weeks ago, my brother went to a gig in London. He sent vids to the family WhatsApp and raved about the thing. That prompted my dad to get on online to look at tour dates at a venue closer to him. Next thing you know, I get rung up and asked to buy tickets. ('We're out all day so can you sort it, Nicky?' I was also out at the time, but we'll let that slide.) Next thing you know, I've bought three tickets for me and my parents, and on Wednesday we headed to the Theatre Royal St Helens for the gig in question.

He was singing 
Any Dream Will Do
here. Huge audience
harmony participation.

What was the gig? Oh, didn't I say, sorry. Yeah, it was James B. Partridge and his show, Primary School Bangers. You know, that teacher that stands on stage with his keyboard and leads the audience in a singalong of school hymns from assembly? It's not just assembly bangers either. There's also nineties pop, nineties advert jingles, and nineties kids TV themes. (It's quite nineties heavy, to be fair.) Not going to lie, I was slightly sceptical before hand. It doesn't feel that long ago I used to be dragged to church to sing hymns with my parents for real. Paying to do it on a Wednesday night felt wrong. But I digress. It was actually... EXCELLENT. Funny, nostalgic, relatable, and energising. Who else can go from Flo Rida to Shine Jesus Shine in the same set? James B. Partridge, that who. The other lovely thing was the second I walked into the theatre, I saw my mate Clair. The whole evening was top fun. Who'd have thought it?

Semi-eaten, and all the
bread is gone. But still!

Food and Drink

I've finally lost my Rudy's virginity. You know, the pizza place opposite the bombed out church? (I'm talking Liverpool, by the way. Other locations exist.)  I've walked past loads and never made it there. Happily, this has changed. I was meeting a friend a couple of weeks ago, en route to a gig, and he initiated me in the ways of Rudy's. The problem was, because my train was late, it was a bit whistle stop. I shovelled in the pizza and glugged back a glass of wine and I was out of there. But that was OK. It meant I had to return a few days later. All I'm saying is, the veggie campana is a sharing platter right up my street. Toasted almonds, roasted peppers, olives, artichokes, mozzarella, and the loveliest bread. Of course I've tried to recreate it since, and of course I've failed. I can't quite pull off the bread - a cross I will have to bear.

Lockdown drinking
when I invented Wine Slush. 

Out and About

The patio is finished. My working day is no longer soundtracked by a loud radio and assorted men accompanying it. I have my silence back. Meanwhile, I'm trying to recreate the heady Saturday nights of lockdown. No, I've not gone mad. I still remember the awfulness of that period but I think my brain is suppressing the really bad stuff. Because one of the nicer things that happened was I ate outside every weekend. It was bid to pretend I was eating tapas in a European back street. Or drinking in a northern beer garden, at least. My memories of those Saturdays were of interesting alcohol, picking at the pickiest of teas, and sitting outside 'til dark. Soon, garden furniture permitting, I'll be able to do that once more. This week's Out and About is contained to the immediacy of my back garden. 

I know this week drags. Post Eurovision Depression (PED) is a recognisable condition. Among the Eurovision fandom at least. Things will undoubtedly feel a little flatter than they usually do. Be kind to yourself. Go gently. It will pass. Until then, whatever you do, please...

...have a lovely week, folks.

*The online debate continues to rage about Israel's inclusion. The EBU's stance is the same as last year. The Israeli broadcaster KAN is who they have jurisdiction over, and as KAN haven't broken any membership rules (unlike Russia's broadcaster) the EBU have no cause to boot them out. According to this video, there's another good reason to keep them involved. It's fair to say for many people, these reasons are of little comfort when faced with news reports of genocide. It seems the debate will continue.

Teaching You To Eurovision...

Dust off your VE Day flags, restring your bunting, and prepare your Swiss cheese platter... it's Eurovision! 

Last year's winner, Nemo. They won for 
Switzerland with The Code.

For clarity, let's be, well, clear. Tomorrow (Tuesday 13th May) is the first semi-final, Thursday (15th May) is the second, and then there's the main event. On Saturday night at 8pm BST, it's the Grand Final. Whoop-de-whoop-woooooo!

As is now a long established and, I can only assume, beloved tradition, I'm using the Monday morning of Eurovision week to share my thoughts about this year's songs. At the time of writing, thirty-seven countries are in the running. That'll be whittled down to twenty-six on Saturday. By now, I've listened to every single song. This is the season I look forward to the most (excepting the Christmas period, leading up to and including Christmas Eve.) This is when my energy levels are at their peak. My car speakers are blasting out Europop with every drive to the Asda. I'm humming a Croatian banger one minute and some Irish ouija-pop the next. The evenings are lighter, the rain is minimal, and we come together with our international neighbours for the very best of times. 

At least that's what USUALLY happens. This year? Meh. I'm not quite there. I don't know why. Sure, I've been busy, but that's standard. And obvs, I've kept an eye on my socials for ESC qualifying songs as they've been selected. Nothing new there. But when I sat down a few weeks ago to give each song a proper listen, I was left kind of... flat? I've not listened again. WHAT IS THIS NEW FEELING? I HATE IT.

Let's break it down. I normally listen to the songs around March and a couple of things happen. Firstly, I hear ten or so brilliant entries that I immediately warm to, and add to my rolling ESC playlist. I feel fired up to cheer any one of them on. I usually find the winner among them. 

Måneskin on Jimmy Fallon.

Secondly, I discover my own personal favourite. It's never a song that ends up winning (2021's Måneskin is the exception) but I love it, I build my identity around it, I plan to visit its country of origin (which never ends up happening), and am regularly disappointed when it fails to make a dent with the voting public. Hey, sometimes it doesn't even qualify. (#justiceforczechia2024)

Then there's the UK song. When it's announced, I listen with an open mind. I tend to find it 'quite nice'. That's certainly how I felt about Olly Alexander's, Mae Muller's, Sam Ryder's, and James Newman's. (Those are our last four representatives, btw. Did you remember?) And once I've thought, 'that's nice' I listen again. And again. Then I read about the performer, I watch some of their other songs, and I find my opinion elevated from 'quite nice' to 'it's an ear worm' or 'pretty catchy'. I don't do this with any other songs, you understand. That makes sense, right? In my own way, for one week in mMay, I'm as patriotic as the most ardent Reform-voting flag-shagger. So with repeated listenings to the UK entry, I get myself into the head space that 'this could be our year.' 

Now, let's be clear. Do I ever think for REAL that this could be our year? No! We don't care enough! The BBC half-asses the campaign! It's still seen as tongue in cheek nonsense by too many people! Obviously it's not going to be our year. (This post deep-dives into the UK's problem with Eurovision and it's an EXCELLENT use of your time.) The trouble is, in 2022, Sam Ryder inflated all our hopes and dreams. With his excellent skills and pure luck of the draw (singing an energising rocky guitar anthem right after a run of quiet ballads) he almost did the impossible. That means we could do that again. Couldn't we?

Who knows? What I do know is that this year, the UK entry has stuck out for real. Watch Remember Monday singing What the Hell Just Happened now! It's excellently sung, it's been an ear worm for me since its first listen, and in a field of songs that haven't forcibly gripped me with enthusiastic hyperbole, it's well up there. DO I think this could be our year? Well, no. I guess not. But I'm not as convinced by that statement as usual. 

The problem is, nothing else stood out. Where are my ten or so songs that pick me up and take me away? I'm a broad church. I'll take a banger, a ballad, a rock anthem, or a folk song. Just hook me in. Folks, it's just not happened. 

Kaj, singing for Sweden. 
Sauna vibes right there.

The only song worth pointing out is Sweden. It's been the bookies favourite for ages. It's three men singing about a sauna but it's still good. In terms of vibes, it's piggybacked onto Finland's 2023 Cha Cha Cha. Remember? Course you do! That song came second but was the winner of our hearts. A catchy riff (which you'll have recalled the second I just reminded you) and a bent-arm, side-to-side dance move that united us all. Croatia's Baby Lasagna tried to replicate the vibes last year. His Rim Tim Tagi Dim had a similar hook. This year, Sweden are offering Bara Bada Bastu. It's topping the bookies chart for a reason. I imagine it will win. 

Malta are serving.

The other song that stands out is Malta's Serving. The reason is quite specific. Back when it was announced, there was a minor controversy. The original song title, Kant, had to be changed. It seems a national broadcaster complained about it sounding too similar to a VERY BAD WORD. Stand by for the Beeb to block out the sound of everyone in the arena screaming that word at volume, come the chorus. Would I have noticed this song amid the throng without the whiff of scandal? I'm not sure. Possibly not.

I've given you the tools, now
it's all down to you.
Fly my pretties!

It's time to wrap things up. Do you feel I've short changed you? I hope not. This week will still be filled with fun and frolics. Seriously. If you're feeling down, lonely, or need even the tiniest pick me up, watching thirty-seven countries present an eclectic mix of music, choreography, and sparkles, will ONLY make you feel better. I'm still looking forward to Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Who needs my top picks anyway? Here's a much better idea. Listen to them yourself. Choose your OWN top picks. Let me teach you to fish, and all that jazz.

Whether it's Sweden's night or even the UKs, one thing's clear. It's the MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR. That will never change. Now crack on and get listening. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

Let's Have a Conclave...

I've been reminiscing about my previous career. Indulge me! 

Ms Bond, Y4 teacher.
I'm role playing a
passport control
officer, if it wasn't clear.

I was a teacher. I think, a good one. I worked in a large primary school in St. Helens and taught some fabulous kids who I remember fondly. During my stint, I got a couple of promotions, then left the profession when I was - what was called back then - the SENCO. I had no inclination to be a head teacher, and the kind of future roles I had been working towards (PSHE Advisor for a Local Authority, thank you very much) were cut because of austerity. Having no appetite for doggy paddling in the same role for the next thirty years, it was time for a change.

I mention it now because isn't a conclave utter madness? Whether you've seen the film or you're simply keen on all things Vatican, the whole shebang beggars belief. And I don't mean the quaintly archaic traditions. You know, the black and white smoke, or the threading of the votes, or the secrecy of it all? Not that. It's the election itself that blows my mind.

Imagining being sequestered with the 
entire staffroom brings on every 
single one of my suppressed anxieties

Imagine all your colleagues under eighty (that's probably all your colleagues, to be fair) being responsible for voting in your new boss. And when no one agrees, they vote again. And when still no one agrees, they vote again. I've sat through too many staff meetings to know the impossibility of a workforce consensus. And that was when we'd be voting on where to put two INSET days into the following year's calendar. Can you fathom voting for a new head teacher this way? 

Picture the scene. There'll be the old guard at one end of the table. The ones that have seen the curriculum repackaged and rebranded repeatedly over the years. The ones that roll their eyes at every new intervention and loudly say, 'Oh, they're calling it THAT now are they?' They sit back in their chairs, lightly doze, and leave the building as soon as the meeting's over. On the other end of the spectrum are the keen young things. The recently qualified members of staff, that haven't lost their love of the job or their will to live. Yet. They'll leave the meeting and go back to their classrooms to rearrange the role-play area for a new topic they're starting tomorrow. Or how about the teachers who are ambitious as frig? They'll privately recognise new policies as stupid, but want to get ahead, so talk the talk in front of the management. Loudly. They're the ones I most identified with. Until I didn't. The thought of these disparate groups of people, attempting to reach agreement on a new boss, stresses me out. It's simply impossible to fathom. I imagine the stress is timesed a million with the masculine mish mash of egos in the Vatican.

Stressful past-life hypotheticals aside, because of Robert Harris' book and the subsequent film, I'm quite interested in the real-life conclave starting on Wednesday. But with the first Eurovision semi final taking place a week tomorrow, I hope to God the eligible cardinals get their shit together, sooner rather than later. We don't need anything taking away from the Eurovision limelight. Let's hope they vote for a lovely progressive person, but get it done quickly. Someone that recognises that far right global politics is bad and that Eurovision, in all its glittery, diverse beauty, is a force for good. Let's send our bestest wishes to all involved. If they time it right, they could vote in the new guy a week on Friday, then celebrate the end of the conclave together, by watching Saturday's Eurovision final. It'd be one hell of a party.

This vibe will not last.

Writing News

I'm starting the editing process with the easy peasy tasks. The spelling of Maddie is now consistent throughout the draft. (A few Maddys snuck though initially.) I've made sure that all ages, times, and dates are written in figures but other numbers are written in full. I've made sure that the character of 'Dad' has a capital letter, but when someone says 'my dad' then it's a small d. The same has gone for Mum, Grandma, and Grandad. These are the baby edits. The teensy tiny things that feel good to iron out but don't take much effort. The effort will come. Just not yet.

Culture

Isn't Hacks brilliant? My friend recommended it a few weeks ago. She raved, so I looked it up, and I've spent the past week bingeing all four seasons. I LOVE it. The set up is... a Gen Z comedy writer is forced to take work with a boomer comedian, who's forced to employ her against her will. Comedy ensues! 

Hannah Einbinder and Jean Smart

What's actually lovely is seeing two women on screen, fleshing out believable lives, where no one is a goodie and no one a baddie. Both are flawed, inspirational, relatable, terrible, and marvellous. I've spent a lot of time with these women since I started watching, and I can't tear myself away. Congratulations, Jean Smart and Hannah Einbinder for creating a brilliant thing.

Food and Drink

It's swings and roundabouts, isn't it. With the warmer weather, I'm craving healthier food. So I've had a run of picky teas involving salad, cheese, olives, and hummus. But on the unhealthier side, meals like that don't half go well with icy white wine. Hey ho. It's what the season demands!

Borth station

Out and About

I survived the annual family caravan holiday. The weather was breezy and warm so everything went well. The marvellous feature of this particular caravan park, is its proximity to the beach. And the station! Borth station is my favourite in the whole of the UK (Clarification: Of of the ones I've visited.) It's tranquil, scenic, and with only the sounds of sheep baaaas littering the silence. How fab to be able to get a train from there. I did it twice over the weekend - both times venturing into Aberystwyth for no real reason other than wanting to travel from the station. It's the simple pleasures!

Siblings on a beach

Enjoy the weather! Enjoy the conclave! Enjoy the whiff of Eurovison anticipation in the air! (More on that next week.) Whatever you're up to, have the best fun. It's all go, isn't it?!

Have a lovely week, folks.