Exam Realism, and Potatoes...

GCSE results day has been and gone. 

This is not a message to the youths, although hello and thank you for reading. This is to the older folks, my peers, and those several years out of education. Well done to each and every one of you over the last few days, for resisting the urge to tell young people that there are many routes to success. You know the type of sentiments I mean? Results don't matter anyway! I failed all my exams and look at me now! You got how many As? They're so much easier these days! Pur-lease. 

Every year I'm baffled by the spate of people via social media, that do this. Save your breath and your typing fingers, and keep your thoughts to yourself. And while we're on the topic, why is anyone comparing their own school experiences with those of the current generation, anyway? The GCSE class of 2025 had the most disrupted high school experience ever. They started Y7 slap bang in a socially distanced, closed-school era of a global pandemic. No one who left education before that, has the tiniest clue. The fact these resilient teens are still getting up in the morning and putting one foot in front of the other should be applauded. Anyone that stuck it out to sit some exams these short years later, has my admiration and then some. 

There's a wider point to be made here. Something about remembering not to judge anyone whose experiences you've not had. That's remembering not to judge anyone full stop, right? Well, yeah, right. But that's harder than it looks. This week, let's just focus on people with exam results. Congratulations to anyone that's been in high school these past five years. I've literally no idea what that must have been like and fair play to you for cracking on. Enjoy whatever comes next.

The first book in the Leeza
McAuliffe series

Writing News

Speaking of high schools, my protagonist, Leeza McAuliffe, attends one of those. In the current book I'm writing, she starts in a split class of Y7/8, and by the end of the story has moved into Y9. Leeza McAuliffe's world is fictional. The first book came out in 2019, the second in 2024, and the third will be 2026. As realistic as I like it to be, I've avoided mentioning the pandemic. Despite the stories spanning COVID, I've kept that level of realism away. Mostly because it would immediately date the book. I try not to mention specific years, and keep things vague in terms of when the story is happening. It's tricky. How do you write relatable stories without getting bogged down in the mundane minutiae of real real life? For now, I'm still doing my research and checking in with my almost Y8 niece for tiny specifics. The most recent detail I checked? How do young people describe other young people that they find sexy and hot? Turns out, these days, it's cute or adorable. Not fit or gorge like my own teen diaries attest. You live and learn.

Culture

A couple of weeks ago, I shared that I'd reread a couple of my favourite Christopher Brookmyre novels while I was away in Edinburgh. Well despite me following him on his socials as well as a load of other publishing/bookstagram people, I hadn't realised he had a new book out last year. The Cracked Mirror arrived from bookshop.org last week, and it is GLORIOUS. Brookmyre homages Agatha Christies's Miss Marple, as well as the genre of reckless LA cop who breaks the rules and is a pain to work with. Both protagonists, with two very different cases to solve, find themselves flung together and crime novel magic happens. I loved it.

In hindsight, chilli oil
or sriracha would have been fab
drizzled over the top.

Food and Drink

Anyone for a potato pizza? I saw the gist of this online so had a bash at my own version. It's a base of dough, covered in a mash of Greek yogurt and feta cheese. Then, thinly sliced potatoes, parmesan, and a drizzle of olive oil top the thing. I added mini gherkins too, but they went too crispy in the oven. As someone's nanna might say, it made a nice change.

Out and About

I've been the Aunter with the Banter recently. My sister and niece stayed over in the week, so we used the new garden furniture and toasted marshmallows in the fire pit. Who am I? Brown Owl? Then, a couple of days later, I babysat my two youngest nephs in Wigan for an evening. It was marvellous. There was time for an in-depth chat about the 2025 Norway Eurovision entry,  as well as space to play with some track and read bedtime stories. The best of evenings.

I don't want to give this too much weight, but last Wednesday, after a small temperature dip, I wore a V necked jumper. Sure, it was fine knit, but it was WONDERFUL. I've been back in t-shirts since, but it gave me a smidge of hope. This time next week, it'll be September. Apologies to all in full time education who wish it weren't so, but I cannot wait. Can you sniff it? Can you sniff the Autumn? It's out there and it's a-coming!

Have a lovely week, folks.

A Sweaty Whirlwind of Fun...

What a whirlwind of a week!

Last Monday, on this very blog, I shared the news of my li'l side hustle, Lights, Camera... Aggro? The new movie podcast in your life drops on 17th September and the response has been utterly lovely. So many people have messaged, and I can't wait to share it with you. 

With the release date fast approaching, shit's got frenzied. As well as my personal ones, I've now got social media accounts for LCA. It's only a matter of time before I share a snarky comment on the wrong account. Forgive me! Then I spotted that all previously uploaded pod episodes, had been publicly available for two days. My sweat ran cold as I imagined as many as three whole people stumbling over the podcast and listening to half the episodes in the wrong order. Luckily I worked out how to set them to private and a small crisis was averted.  

As well as a bit of editing, finding the right  links for the show notes, and answering questions that people have messaged, I've had a right busy time. Isn't it fab to be occupied with fun? 

Lovely Leeza.

Writing News

Don't you worry. I'm still editing the hell out of Leeza McAuliffe, there's no forgetting about my real fun occupation. So far I've pruned just over 5000 words from the first finished draft. It's not just about lowering the word count. I've got to ensure the words I leave in place, tell the story clearly, coherently, and in an enjoyably readable way. Part of me knows, as Chekhov's gun taught us, that if I introduce a plot point at the start, I have to resolve it later. But I'm also writing a newsy, gossipy, diary of a teenager. A tight narrative is good, but to hammer home the authenticity, it needs peppering with a bit of realistic fluff that goes nowhere. As ever, it's a balancing act.

Culture

Tuesday night was the loveliest. I watched a 30th anniversary showing of Sense and Sensibility at my local Odeon. I've seen the Emma Thompson film many times, with Tuesday's viewing demonstrating, once again, that the best way to watch a film is on a massive screen, with other people, in the dark. For two hours and sixteen minutes, I was transported to Georgian Devonshire. It was marvellous. 

Food and Drink

Mmmmmm

Last week I had my first Joe and the Juice. Have you been? Isn't it lovely! I had a Tunacado for brunch in London - more of that below - and it rocked my world. A quick Google shows how lucky I am. It's not a chain that troubles the North of England much, but there are still two in Liverpool. On Saturday, I took myself off to town for my second Tunacado. It was fab. There's something about the crisp toasted bread that brings me joy. It's the small things.

FUN

Out and About

I had a night in London. Hurrah! I spent twenty fours hours, copiously sweating, but had an excellent night with my brother and his mate. I do enjoy regular jaunts to break things up. I'm never going to be someone who'll want a fortnight's holiday. I get bored quickly and I can't bear not cooking for that long. But teensy-weensy nights away, dotted about at regular intervals? Yes please. That's defo my cup of tea. 

Have you noticed? I've made it to the end of a post without moaning about how HIDEOUS the hot weather has been. Aren't you proud of me? I'll leave it here and we'll say no more about it. We all KNOW the score. It doesn't need to be said, right?

Have a lovely week, folks.

Lights, Camera... Aggro?

Everyone has a book inside them. 

That's what they say, isn't it? I think it's probably true. Sure, not everyone has the discipline or desire to complete it, but a story? Yeah! People have all sorts of things to say that the world would like to hear. That's the joy of reading. It's the buzz of stumbling across someone who had the perseverance and single-mindedness to write their story down; a story that happens to connect with you and your own experiences of the world. That's the thrill of books, right there.

But how about this? Everyone has a podcast inside them? Sheesh. Have I made you do a hard cringe? I know I know. There's something less noble about speaking your truth when it comes to podding over writing. Is it snobbery? A rejection of modern technology? Or is it simply that in a relatively short time, we've been flooded by the world and her husband's podcasts? General interest, niche and specific, dangerous and concerning, or vapid and silly - there's something for everyone with a click of the right app. 

So why bring this up now? Well, to my absolute surprise, it appears I've started my own pod. Yeah. Madness, innit? The world needs no more publicly shared opinions about inconsequential matters. Yet here I am! 

Some background maybe useful at this point. I have a friend who I catch up with, now and then. Invariably and unintentionally, our conversation often turns to films. Ones we've seen recently, the latest blockbusters currently being hyped, or the hidden gems that streaming services occasionally pump out. When we chat film, two things are apparent. 

1. We both consider ourselves devoted movie fans. 
2. Neither of us watches the same films. 

When I talk about my all time faves, Phil - the friend in question - has never seen them. And he calls himself a film fan! Likewise, while he raves about the latest blockbuster, I tune him out because I know it's not something that's going to trouble my next cinema visit. It didn't take too much thought to go from that state of affairs, to him saying, 'This would make a good podcast!' 

So here we are. Next month we launch Lights, Camera... Aggro? Two friends, one film, very little agreement. I'm quite proud of that tagline, thank you very much. You've guessed the format, right? We take it in turns to make the other person watch one of our all time faves. Then, we chat about it, try to find areas of agreement, but more likely realise the other person has terrible taste and why are we friends with them anyway?

In all seriousness, we've done a bunch of trial runs and it's been fun. Yeah, fun! Getting to talk at length about long-loved cinematic masterpieces, is brill. Obviously there's the payoff. On alternate weeks I have to sit through something I've managed to avoid for years. Decades even. That's trickier. But listening back to some of the episodes, I reckon they're a good listen. Does the world need another movie podcast? Hell no! Does that matter? Double hell no! 

If this has piqued your interest even a teensy bit, then hurrah! The first episode drops on Wednesday 17th September. And the movie we're discussing? Clueless! Yep, we're hitting the ground running with some 90s teen satire. Follow us on YouTube if you're even the slightest bit curious. It's free! The first pod will be there in a little over a month's time. And if you're keen to know even more, you can find us at Bluesky and Insta too. 

Thanks for reading. I'm still unsure as to how much this improves the world, but it's been lots of fun regardless. Maybe sometimes that's enough?

Have a lovely week, folks. 

Solo Travel and a Tuna Mayo Disaster...

True story: I've just begun the five minute walk from the station to my hotel and it's starting to rain. Having blow-dried my hair earlier, this is not ideal. I'm planning on reading my book in the bar later, and want to give off 'sexy librarian about town' vibes. Luckily, I remember the black bucket hat I've got stashed in my bag. I reach in, pull it out, and it's on my head within seconds. I continue my walk.

Said bucket hat,
from a previous time.

As I cross Princes Street, a man walks past. He's tall, with a shaved head, and similar glasses to mine. His long black leather coat is striking and I make the immediate assumption that he's 'cool'. He looks at me for a second or two longer than is natural. As I pass, my mental voice provides the narrative. 'Game recognise game,' it says. I continue to my hotel, feeling lighthearted and marvellous. I'm having a lovely time, feeling great, and ready to enjoy my evening.

It's when I'm facing the glass doors of the hotel that I see. There's something on my hat. I quickly pull it off my head and inspect it. What is this large beige blob that's plastered all over the front? Oh, good. That'll be tuna mayo that's oozed out of the butty in my bag. Through the cardboard box, I might add. Excellent. I've been walking around Edinburgh with a tuna mayo hat, and had a cool man stare in disgust. My evening of wine and reading still takes place, but the vibe is less 'sexy librarian', more 'total shit show of a woman'.

Just me on a
train, listening in.

Writing News

My mini break in Edinburgh was, tuna mayo aside, great. From a writing perspective, though, it was essential. Not specifically Edinburgh, but the need to get out and about on my own. It's only by travelling, eating, and drinking alone that you get to eavesdrop on some quality convos. Not in a malicious way, of course. Just in a way that means you hear authentic dialogue from people you don't already know. It gives insight into speech and rhythm, into phrasing and tone, and it provides all sorts of interesting material for characters. 

For example, on one train journey I heard two women - strangers from different countries - talk at length about their lives. One had been a dancer on cruise ships, the other was from upstate New York and had been married three times. I'm probably not going to write their entire conversation into a plot, but it was a treasure trove of anecdotes, comments, and opinions. Solo travel is essential to keep things fresh. I can highly recommend it.

This was post tuna-mayo
so I'm styling it out
marvellously

Culture

There's so much culture in Edinburgh, isn't there. Sadly I was too busy listening in on convos and reading my book in bars to trouble the museums. That can be for next time. I did see lots of street performers and Fringe acts peddle their wares as I walked around the town. The Fringe kicked off the day after I got back, so people were getting organised. The best cultural thing I did, however, was reread one of my favourite books of all time. The Sacred Art of Stealing remains top of my personal charts. A thriller, bank heist, romance, and satirical comedy - I chose it because it was written by Scottish author, Christopher Brookmyre. (And also because I love it, and have to revisit it, every couple of years.) When I finished that, I started on the follow up, A Snowball in Hell. They were brilliant ways to pass the time.

Food and Drink

Ahh, a full Scottish brekkie. What's not to love? This one was veggie, and all I can say is how much I love veggie haggis. Plus, hiding under the toast is a potato scone. I'd never had one before, but it was fit.

Lovely, lovely North Berwick

Out and About

I hadn't made any plans prior to arriving in Edinburgh. The world was my oyster. So much so, that when I saw a bus that said North Berwick on it, I hopped on. Regular readers will know, North Berwick is my happy place. It's also about twenty minutes away on the train from Edinburgh. The bus, though? That took an hour and forty. But you know what? It was boss. There was loads of scenery, and it meandered through all the little towns that the train whizzes through. I had a very happy afternoon, and then an even happier North Berwick evening.

That's holiday time over now. Until December when I'll charge my social battery before Christmas. (In North Berwick, as it happens.) Two days escape is all I need. A fortnight away is not for me. I get bored too quickly and I miss cooking. Instead, a couple of days of intense solitude is all I need to feel like I've had a system reset. Now, I'm fresh-faced and raring to go once more. Or something like that. Hope you're feeling similar. 

Have a lovely week, folks.