Arise, Sir Guinness Zero...

Last week, in one of his final acts as Prime Minister, Sir Keir Starmer gave out a bunch of peerages. Congratulations to all. 

My reservations about unelected nobles aside, this news provided a lovely thought experiment for this week's blog. If I accept the premise that the House of Lords is both important and necessary to my life, who would I want to be in it? Who has elevated my existence so much, they deserve a life-long title and recognition for their service? Who are the unsung heroes of my world this week? Well, wonder no more because I'm about to tell you.

Guinness 0.0

At some point, someone at Guinness had the thought that making a world renown, instantly recognisable, dark stout beer, was not enough. Guinness was for non-drinkers too. As a non-non-drinker, this might have passed me by. Even when I'm up for a pint, Guinness isn't my first choice. However, every other non-alcoholic beer I've tried, tastes slightly different from their boozy counterpart. That's fine. If I have to drive or take antibiotics, they'll do well enough. That's before Guinness 0.0 came along. It was a revelation. When I drink a couple of pints of that, I feel SO guilty when I get into my car. It can't be! It's exactly the same as drinking alcohol! How can I drive in this state? Guinness are geniuses. I thank them for their work and want to ennoble the person that made this happen.

Curtis Sittenfeld

I read my first Curtis Sittenfeld book - Rodham - after hearing it recommended on a podcast. It's the 'what could have been' story if Hillary had dumped Bill and gone on to have a political career unencumbered by a problematic husband. Since then, I keep returning to Sittenfeld's catalogue. It's banger after banger. You want a modern day Pride and Prejudice? Try Eligible. In the mood for high school, adolescence, and privilege? Here's Prep. Romantic Comedy is a romantic comedy, but smart, engrossing, and manages to incorporate Covid in a way that truly aids the plot. My most recent read was American Wife, which gave me a whole heap of appreciation for Laura Bush, which wasn't on my 2026 bingo card. I've still got a bunch of Sittenfeld's stuff to read, but I know it's all good. If I want to be reliably entertained and made to think, Curtis Sittenfeld is the one. That needs recognition.

Antihistamines

The dispenser at my local pharmacy is an ex-pupil of mine. This automatically means he's a delight to know, having had a spectacular educational grounding in Y1. (Or he's just a really lovely lad. It's probably that, tbh.) A couple of months ago, as the hay fever season kicked in, I went in to buy my generic antihistamines. 'I've got stronger ones if you want?' he said. Naturally I bit his hand off. The stronger the better! Since then (after a few ups and downs when I ran out of tablets whilst spending a day in a field - huge sneezefest for a week) I've been on an even keel. These stronger antihistamines never used to be available over the counter, but now they are. As we don't know who made the decision to change the rules, I think my ex-pupil should be knighted. I'd have never known about them if it wasn't for him.

Alex

I have a mate who works in a shop. Not just any shop, but a shop that sells pop culture merch. Without fail, whenever anything is released from the world of Heartstopper, she messages to see if I want it put aside. I've had dairies, posters, figurines, display materials, and last week the final book in the Heartstopper series. My desk area has become quite the shrine and I love it. The books by Alice Oseman, and the subsequent TV series, has given me so much joy. It's also been a huge inspo for my own writing. I may have stumbled across it without Alex, but her contribution to my continued happiness deserves recognition.

Ella Risbridger

Not only does Ella Risbridger's food writing provide excellent meal inspiration, she encourages me to create mindful moments, and relish the simplicity that - for example - an excellent radish can bring. I'm not even joking. In The Kitchen Book she writes six paragraphs about the joys of eating ice-cold radishes swiped over butter. And the thing is, after reading those six paragraphs, all I want to do is buy radishes and butter, and sit at my kitchen island being chic and classy. The power of writing! Risbridger has revolutionised my cooking and eating over the past couple of years, in exactly the same way that Nigella did when I discovered her - and we all know she's my personal Queen. What a gift to share with the world!

Redbubble 

In an ideal world, the temperature would be down to single figures and I'd be wearing a variety of layers topped off with something woolly. Yet here we are. As I've sweated my way through the past few weeks, I've struggled because I'm not a vest-top kind of gal. Luckily Redbubble have come to the rescue. The independent artists' T-shirt site has a 'relaxed' section. Specifically, that means a baggy top, with a wider than normal neck, and flappy sleeve holes ensuring a decent breeze can reach my armpits. It's been a revelation. I've got two Heated Rivalry tops, and my excellent Write On T shirt, so the sweaty world is my oyster. To the Lords, for the person who brought relaxed fit to Redbubble. 

England

I'm talking the England Men's Team specifically, but maybe I've discovered a bit of national pride in a wider context too. Despite several grumpy pundits (Danny Murphy seemed particularly cross on Saturday) pontificating about the semi-final match loss, it's important to have perspective. England have just played a blinder of a tournament. They've provided nail-biting end-to-end matches, beating huge teams with quality players. Sod the final last night, the place to be was Saturday for the third and fourth place play off. Did you see? Six goals, including a hat trick for Saka! What a fab bunch the England team are. They showed passion, talent, and skill on the pitch, and then shared their visible heartbreak and disappointment when it was over. No hissy fits, no punches, (I'm looking at you, Argentina) just excellent sporting highs and lows. Give them all knighthoods! They kicked the manosphere right in its balls.

These random people/things were what popped into my head when I first gave the topic some thought. They're very specific to 'now' but that's OK. We seem to be in an era where Prime Ministers are strictly short-term. Perhaps I can repeat this exercise in a couple of years when Andy Burnham's peerage picks are published before he exits Downing Street. Either way, enjoy the above list and get thinking of your own. You never know when it'll be your turn to lead the country. We all get a go, right?

Have a lovely week, folks.

Nine Hours Nicky...

I've had a revelation that has blown my mind.

Just over a week ago, it was the England v Mexico match. Do you remember? It was supposed to kick off at 1am on Monday morning but that got pushed to 2am because of thunder. The match lasted the full ninety minutes, plus half time, hydration breaks, injury and stoppage time, so what with the studio analysis afterwards, I crawled into bed at 5am.

Rock and roll, baby! I powered through a twenty-two hour day before falling asleep when it was light. Now, where's that revelation I promised? Well, hear me out, it's coming. When I got into bed, I decided not to set my alarm. Sensible, right? I'd already written off Monday morning and had nothing immediate to get up for. As I closed my eyes and sank into the pillow, I felt safe in the knowledge that I had a few hours of uninterrupted rest coming my way. Even so, it was quite the surprise when I finally woke up. It was 1pm! Nine hours later! 

Illness aside, I've never knowingly slept for nine hours in my life. Most nights I usually sleep between 1am and 7am. If I have a flexible day, I may lie in bed, scrolling for an extra hour or so, but my sleep is still the same. Six hours, night in, night out, standard. Nine hours blew my mind. Who knew that it was even possible? I was properly gobsmacked.

I know, I know, you're waiting for the revelation. Having a long kip doesn't merit such big talk. So stand by and brace yourselves, here's what blew my mind. After nine hours of sleep, when I'd had no interruptions, no alarm snoozes, and no worries about waking up for something important, I got out of bed with a SPRING in my step. It was the binary opposite of my usual waking self. I didn't yawn, I didn't ache, I didn't wish I could have ten more minutes... I felt AMAZING.

That feeling didn't stop once I got up. The whole day I was energised. I felt invincible. Nothing was an effort, nothing was too hard to think about, I was ready to tackle the world. I've always known on an intellectual level that getting enough sleep is important, I just thought my nightly six hours was enough. Readers, it wasn't.

Of course I've done my best to replicate that nine hours in the days since. It's harder than it sounds. I take ages to drop off. 1am is the time I sleep, whether I go to bed earlier or not. That means I need to lie in more. But that's a problem. I can't write off whole mornings like I did last Monday. I can be flexible now and then, but most days I have to get up for something. It's going to be a problem. Still, even if this revelation changes nothing, I've learnt something new about myself. Nine Hours Nicky, that's me. That's what I've learnt, even if it can only ever be a beautiful one-off.

Writing News

Oh boy. I've started rereading the first Leeza McAuliffe book. It's... hmmm... what is it, exactly? Cringe, for sure. Funny too. I've laughed at a bunch of lines I forgot were there. It's humbling - I think I'd do it better now. Or maybe just differently? It's not an unpleasant experience (aside from the cringe of reading my own stuff) but it's making me think about where my writing was seven years ago. Regardless of all these feelings, however, it is a necessity. I've written three books in the Leeza McAuliffe Stories series. That's too many facts to hold in my head. I need to reread the series, make copious notes about the facts of each character's life, and start thinking about Book Four. I'm enjoying it, but with healthy reservations.

Matthew Rhys in Widow's Bay.
Fun is the word.

Culture

Football, football, football. That's what's on my TV on a nightly basis and sometimes I'm even watching. Aside from that, I've started rewatching Rivals from the beginning. I think it's become my happy place. I've also started Widow's Bay on Apple. I'd never have tuned in without a specific recommendation from my friend. Eerie towns and creepy goings on aren't my thing. But my friend's tastes are impeccable and she described it simply as fun. And fun it is! I'm all in and laughing just as much as I'm weirded out. Book wise, I spent a very happy half-hour in my local indie bookshop. I bought two paperbacks that I'm planning to take on a Welsh mini break that's coming up, and I'm currently immersed in the George Michael biopic/social commentary of the eighties by Sathnam Sanghera - Tonight the Music Seems So Loud. It's wonderful.

Food and Drink

With the return of the heat, comes the return of giving the oven a swerve. All my recent meals have consisted of picking at cold bits. Of course, it's important to make things nice. Making things nice, elevates everything. The odds and ends at the bottom of pickle jars with added cheese and crisps on a plate, does not an evening meal make. But if you arrange them on a board, add a glass of wine, and opt for napkins over kitchen towel, you've got yourself a feast.

Out and About

Talking of feasts, my mate had a garden party on Friday, with excellent food, drink, and company. We all know I hate the summer but if I must endure it year after year, events like that make it SO much nicer. 

So on we go. I'll continue to chase the elusive nine hours of sleep I truly need, whilst zhuzhing up bits of food to my heart's content. One last thing... if you're in need of more sleep yourself, I should recommend my podcast Lights, Camera, Aggro? You'll either be bored to tears and drop off immediately, OR completely engaged and care not a jot about being awake. I mention it now, because for the first time in its history, Lights, Camera, Aggro? is available on Apple and Spotify. The most recent series is, at least. Check it out as you attempt to drift off. The latest episode about Dirty Dancing has me oversharing way too much, whilst revelling in the subversive messaging at the heart of its plot. Larks.

Have a lovely week, folks.

It Was Burgundy All Along...

As I type these words, my hall, landing, and stairs are being painted. (NOT A EUPHEMISM.) 

My home

Morning! I've decamped to Costa - because paint fumes, strangers in my home, and the fact I don't trust myself not to get concussion by walking into the scaffolding, means it's better I'm here and not there. I'm sure it'll look marvellous when it's finished and the hassle and upheaval will be worth it. 

The colour my
comprising-self
has agreed to.

Actually, I'm not sure that's true. Of COURSE, it'll look fine. It'll be clean, neat, and judging by the work done so far, brilliantly professional. The trouble is, I've gone beige. YUCK. After many heated debates about bold wall colours (I live with someone who'd live in magnolia hell if I didn't intervene) I've given in this time. I didn't have the bandwidth to argue. Besides, the point of this current paint job is to freshen things up for a valuation. If I'm looking to move house one day, I can live with nondescript 'pale' for a bit.

Look what I could have won!
Nicked from the internet
but stunning. 

A friend of mine recently commented that she thought my hall could handle a deep burgundy. She told me this when I was already too far down the beige route to back out. But OH how I can't stop thinking about it. BURGUNDY. Can you even imagine? Think of Christmas, with fairy lights, flickering candles, and snow falling outside. Burgundy! I wish I'd chatted to her sooner. Back when I was choosing colours for me, not for imagined estate agents and buyers of the future. Burgundy! It would have been spectacular. 

Take this as a timely reminder. Live for the day! Don't put off doing excellent things! Paint your hallway burgundy (metaphorically or literally) and choose bold not beige, however that manifests in your life. Burgundy for the win! Burgundy forever! I WISH I'd chosen burgundy. 

Writing News

A lovely thing happened last week. The woman who owns the nail salon I visit, posted from her business account how she'd enjoyed my Leeza McAuliffe books. It was lovely - a genuine thrill to see someone I like buzzing off my stories. But then that post was seen by a woman who knows my sister-in-law. She sent a screenshot to the sister-in-law, who sent it to my partner, who showed it to me. How FAB to see the little journey that post made, amidst some people who know me. I wonder what other journeys it made that I don't know about.

Joanne Harris, author of Chocolat, posted on Bluesky recently. 'Unsolicited writing advice no 7410: This is a conclusion drawn from over 30 years' observations of publishing. Reviews don't sell books, What sells books is human-to-human communication, via reps, booksellers, author events, word of mouth from readers.' And ain't that the truth. I've chatted to strangers in the flesh, told them about my characters, and they've had the book ordered from Amazon before I've finished talking. It's definitely the way to sell. Likewise, to everyone else who has shared a conversation or post about my books, thank you so much. It helps sales and my ego, as well as deep down reassuring me that I'm not wasting my time. Thank you everyone!

The last few reads on my app

Culture

Remember this is my mad reading year? I decided in January to make a concerted effort to read more. I didn't want to chart my progress or stick to a self-imposed goal, I simply wanted to make the most of not being in the middle of my own book-writing for a bit. 

Well, goals, schmoals. That's gone out of the window. I can tell you, with alarming precision, that we're in the middle of the 27th week of the year and I've just finished my 30th book of 2026. Let's be clear, I don't like that I know this. I don't like that I felt a buzz when my reading tally overtook the weekly count. I add my completed books to my reading app and then move onto the next one. It's still enjoyable, I'm still in control, but I'm aware it's a slippery slope. 

Food and Drink

Consider this a gift for the word-of-mouthing you've been doing about my books. It's a proper recipe and the best thing I've eaten in ages. It's a pudding! I don't even like puddings, but this is FIT.

The pudding of dreams

Because of a recent incident involving BBQ over-catering, I had MANY brioche hotdog buns to use up. Instead of the route one solution - hotdogs forever! - I googled brioche recipes hoping to think outside the box. Ladies, Gentlemen, and those who don't adhere to the gender binary, let me present Bread and Butter Chocolate Orange Pudding.

(I merged a few recipes together to get this one. Feel free to adapt with flavours of your own.)

Ingredients  (serves 4 )

• Six brioche hotdog buns, split in half lengthways 
• Marmalade
• 3 eggs
• 1 tbs caster sugar
• 375mls milk
• 1 tbs vanilla extract
• roughly cut chunks of chocolate, I used about 40g - you do you
• 1 tsp Demerara sugar

OK, ready? It's easy peasy. 

Method

• Spread marmalade on the cut edge of each half of hotdog bun.
• Cut the buns into bite sized chunks and put in an ovenproof bowl.
• Mix the milk, eggs, sugar, and vanilla in a jug.
• Pour the milky mixture over the buns making sure they're all soaked.
• Push pieces of chocolate into the soggy mixture, between the gaps (or anywhere you like.)
• Sprinkle the Demerara sugar on the top.
• Put in the oven, 170℃ electric, 150℃  fan, or gas mark 3, for 45 mins.

EAT WARM. Or you know what? Eat cold! It's fit either way. And experiment. I want to try dark chocolate, slithers of marzipan, and cherries with apricot jam, but I fear I'll get carried away. As a non-sweet toothed woman, it's not ideal to get into this sort of thing at my age. You, however, can do as you like. Enjoy!

Out and About

Now that every day is accompanied by a stiff breeze, normal service has resumed. Last week saw the usual food shop in Warrington Asda, brunch in Childwall, Costa in Aintree, and writing group in Liverpool. As much as I'm setting my expectations low for the next Prime Minister - it's the best way to avoid disappointment - it's been quite a revelation to see Andy Burnham's social media be so local and relevant to my life. His current days, like mine, are heavily North-West based. It makes a nice change.

So what wisdom have I imparted today? Nothing? Yeah, fair enough. Just remember that quote from Dead Poets Society...  Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Paint your halls burgundy.

Have a lovely week, folks.