Call Me Lionel Messi...

My hall, landing, and stairs is now newly decorated. (I like to give you closure.) What was a biscuity-beige is now a pebbly-grey. Adjectives aside, it's not massively different. Just neater, cleaner, and tidier. Win.

Taken when the
radiator was still the
old colour, while
the wall were 
the new. Virtually 
identical.

The problem is I'm under pressure to keep my own belongings neater, cleaner, and tidier too. Boooo. I live with a neat-freak, you see, which mostly works well. I have a high tolerance for mess while he cracks easily so he does the bulk of the chores. But now? As I put my desk area back after painting, I was forced to declutter and, I don't know... organise it. What fresh hell is this?

My desk before
last week.

I thrive in mess. Casting no aspersions on my upbringing (lolz) it's what I'm comfortable with. Not even Kim, Aggie, and a team of Navy Seals, could've kept things tidy in my childhood home of two adults and seven kids. I grew up amidst a comforting level of clutter. It's shaped who I am. I love a bit of chaos. I love my stuff around me. My brain calms in the midst of it all. And yet, I spent the best part of last Thursday, going through my personal belongings and having to decide KEEP, BIN, or GIVE AWAY.

My desk now. Sterile!

My niece is the real winner. She was visiting the next day so I boxed up a load of pens, notepads, and stickers for her. I was also able to bin a bunch of biros and gel pens that had long since dried. But everything else? I've just rearranged it, made new piles, and shoved a bunch of it in a crate under the desk. I'm not a hoarder, not yet. I just like my stuff. Still, it's tidy for now, and it looks great. Like a show home. (Sterile and empty of life?) Of course in a few weeks, I'll be sitting back there to plan the next Leeza McAuliffe book. Let's hope the mess builds back by them, so my creative juices can freely flow.

Writing News

Did you know that last Wednesday, it was fifteen years since Amy Winehouse died? I saw it pop up on Insta while I waiting outside Argos. Hasn't that flown? That was my first thought. It reminded me to dig out my Back to Black CD the next time I want to feel. The second thought I had was more self-involved. If it was fifteen years on Wednesday that Amy Winehouse died, that means it was fifteen years on Tuesday that I left my last proper job - indeed my career - and decided to focus on writing a book. What happened next was anyone's guess, but that was my plan.

What happened next was, I did write a book. Hurrah! But it was terrible, so it's consigned to a never-opened folder on my laptop. Booo! But I didn't give up. Nothing works first time round, right? I took what I'd learned and channelled it into writing Carry the Beautiful. Four more books have followed, I've started the Leeza McAuliffe Stories series and I'm looking ahead to five more books to round it off. If you'd have told me that fifteen years ago, I'd have laughed in your face. Then I'd have concluded that you'd lost your mind. Anyway, here's to Amy Winehouse, who will be forever linked in my mind with my mid-life crisis. Not so much a crisis, as it turned out.

Culture

The final part of Heartstopper dropped last week. It's a film - Heartstopper Forever - and takes the story to the end of the books, saying goodbye to Nick, Charlie, and the rest of the gang.

Relatable

I'm OK. Thanks for asking. A little bereft that one of my favourite shows is over, but what a legacy it leaves. If I were a young teen, or an old child, this would have been such useful viewing. Seeing young people navigate the world, work out who they are, talk through problems with trusted adults, and ultimately learn how to be happy, shouldn't be revolutionary, but it is. Fair play to Alice Oseman for creating this world. I read the last book before I saw the film, and it was simply beautiful.

Remnants of a galette!

Food and Drink

My sister, brother-in-law, and six-year-old niece stayed on Friday night. I got very excited about using this as an opportunity to bash out a galette. You know, a whipped feta, butternut squash and cavolo nero filled walnut pastry galette?* No? Fair enough. 

For the gram.

My niece didn't look too thrilled in the run up, when I checked with her via FaceTime. So, with her disgusted face in mind, I spent a happy Friday afternoon making not only a galette but a margherita pizza too. Oh, and obvs my easy but impressive chocolate splattered fruit plate, for the gram. Maybe it's the mess of cooking that calms my mind. Either way, it was fun!

An artists' impression 
of last Wednesday's lash lift.

Out and About

Over the past week, I've had a dentist appointment, a pedi, and a lash lift. All the personal grooming! The temporary filling that's grazing my tongue is nowhere near as marvellous as my shiny black toes or perky lashes, but still. We do what we must.

Hope your  work areas are as messy or tidy as you need them to be. Hope your inner-teens are healed through excellent telly. Hope your mid-life crises are the gateway to a better life. Or failing all that, just have a good week. Next Monday, yes?

Have a lovely week, folks.

*The link in the paragraph is the recipe I used, but I ditched the sage, added pan-fried cavolo nero, and made the squash pieces smaller. Either way, it's fab.