We Deserve Nice Things...

A time and tested coping mechanism.

At first I needed techniques. I needed tricks to get through the lockdown day. I wrote about playing Walking on Sunshine loudly as I got my first cup of tea of the morning. I talked about five-minute workouts and exploring new walking routes. These were psychological life-hacks to make my mind feel it was in control and everything was fine. Now, we've moved on to the next level. Acceptance has kicked in. Control has been achieved, or relinquished willingly. Either way, there are less mind games needed to convince myself that I got this. 

When I typed 'Pleasure' into the search
box, this was pretty much the only
non-sexual GIF that came up.
Unless I've completely
misunderstood Belle's situation.

So, what form does Next Level Existence take? What's the defining characteristic of the next stage of events? Why, it's pleasure of course. Good old fashioned pleasure. The thirst for nice things is intense. After thrashing about, treading water, and using every coping mechanism in the book, it's time to reward our new acceptance with a bit of hedonism. And whilst that might usually take the form of putting the world to rights over multiple beers in a pub, or a cinema visit to watch a long-awaited release, it's now the responsibility of our lockdown selves to source invigorating and multi-sensory pursuits as much as we can. Reader, here is my curated list of things that have given me pleasure over the past week. And worry not. It is more than SFW. Not that it matters when you're WFH.

Dhal, based on Mowgli's basic
recipe and then my own
messing around.

Food and Drink
The Mowgli restaurant owner, Nisha Katona, has spent her downtime doing recipe vids. I watched her How To Dhal video multiple times, then made my own version, imbued with the confidence to experiment that she had passed on. If you like cooking and want some simple but interesting recipes, @mowglistfood is your Insta place to be. Or, if you merely want the hint of inspiration without the recipe, try @themagicbayleaf. It's Political Twitter's own @sturdyalex but on Insta. Based on his food photos and brief description, I made biftekia. Have a look if food is your go to pleasure. 

I've got a bunch of them
downloaded and ready to go.

Podcasts
Caitlin Moran tweeted about this, so obvs I checked it out immediately. The Rule of Three podcast involves the comedy writers Joel Morris and Jason Hazeley having a chat with a guest comedian about a film or TV show that makes them laugh. They dissect it in such a way that it not only reminds you how great the film or TV programme was, but also how the writers made it amusing in the first place. One for people that like to get a glimpse of the mechanics behind their funny. Cariad Lloyd talking about Whose Line is it Anyway filled me with unearthed-memory joy. If you want something less writery, though, I can't recommend Shrine of Duty's Quarantelly podcast enough. Instead of being confined to their usual Line of Duty theme, three friends sit and talk about the best TV of the week. They are an engaging bunch. Clearly excellent broadcasters as well as real life mates, their intimate yet coherent nattering is compelling. I've listened to them talk about all sorts of telly I haven't ended up watching. It hasn't mattered. They're great fun. They've also put me on to things I might not have bothered with, without them mentioning it. Speaking of which...

Paul Mescal plays Connell in Normal People.
You can just feel the teenage awkwardness
pour out from the GIF all over you, come on.

Television
...Normal People. Oh my. Twelve half-hour episodes of stunning, lingering, tender, beauty. There is also, just for clarity, quite a lot of sex. I recommended it to my littlest brother before I had realised the extent of it. But hey, it's so beautiful and aching, it's artistic. Like an Irish Call Me By Your Name, it invokes the angst and heartache of being a teenager in lust and love. It made me feel young and old, all at once. I had to ration myself to three episodes a day, just to eke out the gorgeousness of the thing. Alternatively, if that doesn't float your boat (even though it's so lovely it really should), Run on Sky Comedy is something else I'm actively excited about each week. Two thirtysomething ex-lovers meet up on a whim and escape their real lives. We don't know the extent of those real lives at the start, nor do we know why they've chosen to hook up again at this point. It's full of unfolding backstory, whilst being littered with witty dialogue and emotional punches. I'd watched and been hooked in by the first episode before I saw it was created by Fleabag Live director, Vicky Jones. That sealed the deal for me.

No reason. I just wanted 
to cheer myself up.

Politics
If you're finding the daily Government briefings a valuable use of your time, then fair play to you. Crack on and all the best. But, if you want something with a bit more balance, The Bunker podcast is doing some decent bite-sized angles of COVID, looking at wider issues affected by the lockdown. Episodes so far have included Science Vs Politics, Can Aviation Survive Isolation, and What Are We Going To Do About Tax? It drops first thing, every weekday morning, and gives an informed but entertaining start to the day. Or, if Friday evening is when you prefer your political entertainment, Have I Got News For You is back. I'll admit, I was unsure about this at first. Lockdown broadcasts can be hit and miss, and without the usual laughter of the studio audience, I wasn't sure it would be funny. Yet on reflection, I've found I enjoy it more. There's something about the panelists not needing to play to an audience. Ian Hislop can't have a mini rant and then look up and wait for the laugh. Paul can't deadpan quite so much. Instead, the five faces onscreen have the air of a bunch of misfit colleagues that have gone for a pint and are trying to keep the conversation going. There are some real laughs and some random bits. But I like it. It feels real. Besides, if you don't think it's working, you still get the thrill of looking at the background of the guest and wondering why they chose that specific wall. 

Normal People
soundtrack.
It'll chill you out.

Music
Last week, my brother-in-law did a music quiz that he shared on the family WhatsApp group. (Things we do now.) One of the songs was Space's Neighbourhood. And I suddenly remembered. Space! They were a cracking band. Nineties scouse at its best. I spent the rest of the day reliving their greatest hits, and singing along as I cracked on with my life. If you want something a little more mellow, I've had the soundtrack to Normal People playing for the past few evenings when I've been sitting outside with wine. And when I need background music for my jigsawing (still ongoing from Christmas!) my go to is the soundtrack from Eddie the Eagle. There are two. One contains all the pop songs that Gary Barlow organised, or then there's the music from the film that's mostly instrumental. That's the one I go for. Soaring, anthemic, and with no pesky lyrics to put me off when I'm sorting jigsaw pieces.

Bloody love Christopher Plummer.
Knives Out is a treat.

Films 
The 2020 Oscar contenders are about to start being available. We've already had best original screenplay nominee, Knives Out released to buy in March. Last week, Jojo Rabbit - winner of best adapted screenplay - was available. I'm counting down the days until Bombshell, Little Women, and A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood are released. All great films that are coming soon. Alternatively, I've been revisiting some classics. The other night I had a dream about The Odessa File. No, I've no idea why either, but it meant I had to watch it again, and marvel at a boyish Derek Jacobi in one of his earlier film roles. I've also found comfort in watching Rear Window - empathising a whole lot more with the housebound Jimmy Stewart character. And then I watched the 1992 version of Howards End because Emma Thompson makes everything feel better. Still on my To Watch list over the coming weeks are A Room With a View, Maurice, and Gosford Park. I am clearly finding pleasure in historical settings and period costumes.

This was brill.
I devoured it whole.

Books
Finally books. I'm reading less than I thought I would, but still dipping into things here and there. John Niven's The F*ck It List was the exception. I read it in one go, over three hours, sat in the garden. It was funny, subversive, and a great release for the pent up frustration I feel about being powerless in the current political climate. I'm still not entirely sure how John Niven got it past the lawyers. He makes it quite clear which real US president he is referring to, and there are no punches pulled in the feelings of the main character towards the recent direction of US politics. But if you want something completely different, I'm going to give Sally Rooney a whirl. She wrote the book, Normal People - yes, I'm going on about that again - and rather than read the book of the TV show I have just devoured, I'm going to start another of her novels. Conversations With Friends was out in 2017 and it's my absolutely-definitely next read, for sure.

Wine slush. If it isn't already
 a thing, I'm claiming the rights.

So, those are the main things I've been finding pleasurable recently. There are other tiny niche things too. I've started freezing white wine so I can drink semi-defrosted slush and feel like a boozy kid. Or I've been growing my leg hair so that every few weeks I can shave it and have the smoothest legs in all of Christendom. For a day before the prickles grow back, at least. Or the other day I shopped in a different branch of my usual supermarket, to feel the thrill of novelty as I walked down new aisles. Small pleasures. Just as valid. Just as thrilling when they crop up. Whatever happens, however bad things can feel, we always, ALWAYS deserve nice things. We ALWAYS deserve pleasure. That's just a fact.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Hair Experimentation is Back!...

It's time to tackle a subject that's on everyone's mind. It nestles deep within, causing a wave of anxiety each time it floats to the surface. We can ignore it for a time, but it never fully goes away. What am I talking about? Hair, of course! Hair that hasn't been trimmed, styled, dyed or highlighted for five weeks now. It might seem a superficial and frivolous issue about which to worry, particularly in times of national crisis, but as Fleabag once said, 'Hair is everything, Anthony.'

Feels like a life time ago. 

Depending on style, some of us can get away without a trim for longer. I am currently growing my hair. A serendipitous decision I made at the end of last year, that's allowed me to crack on without hair length worries clouding my day. And so far, hair colour is another calm area of my life. As long as supermarkets are open, I can pick up a box of hair dye. Win. Not only have I not spent £100 a month on professional salon colouring for the past few years, I've also perfected my home dyeing skills. Now that home dye is all we can do, I am confident and proficient. Well done me. (Soz, but I have to take my ego boosts where I can.) Smugness aside, I appreciate this isn't the case for everyone. I've heard friends and family say they 'wouldn't know where to start' when it comes to colouring their hair. (I mean, the box does have instructions. It's not hard.) But I get that in the current stressful climate, attempting a potentially stressful task, that might result in a stressful outcome, isn't ideal. 

Meanwhile, my hairdressing chain keeps emailing. Understandably they want to keep their clients on board, and are offering tips and advice about hair care in these crazy times. It does make me smile though. One ad they mailed out was 'Roots Are Back!' I found the incidence of that trend coinciding with the lack of access to professional root colourists almost too on the nose. But still. Businesses gotta business.

Emma Watson makes it
look easy. When I went
through a similar
metamorphosis, I 
looked bloody shocking.

So, all in all, me and my hair are fine. It's growing, and being coloured every few weeks, just as it was. But I do feel for the people with a short style. The people that need layers cut in, and ears trimmed around, and who've got short bits round the back. Short-haired people are having to make all sorts of decisions. I used to be a short haired person, and I'd be having a lot of internal worries right now if that were still the case. Letting a short style grow is not the same as letting a jaw length bob grow out. A jaw length bob just gets on with it. When left for a while, it looks the same but longer. Someone with short hair, looks completely different when they let it grow. Choosing to go from short to long, is a year long faff. The in-between-stage is an utter nightmare. Once you commit to it, you're tied into months and months of shit hair. Once you've gone through it, you don't go back without a great deal of internal wrangling. I feel for those people. I was those people. It was hell.

Worth a try?

Many short-haired people have already made their lockdown choice. Particular the mens. A few of my manly friends and family have invested in clippers. A Number Two all over has had a sudden rise in popularity. Perhaps my hair dressing chain should email that one. 'Skin heads are back! Get clipping!' If I were a bloke, or a woman with fantastic cheek bones, massive eyes, and no double chin, then I'd probably do the same. I'd let my inner Sinead O'Connor let rip and look amazing. The fact my facial features would let me down is reason enough not to go down this root. (Did you see what I did there! Word play!) But the fact remains, perhaps now is the time to experiment. What else are you going to do? Go out? Meet your friends? Sit in an office with a load of colleagues? Course not. So trying a new hair thing could be fun. 

Rocking a bit of coppery ginge
 there. Week One of the
lockdown saw me get
experimental.

I am not, you may be disappointed to hear, planning on getting the clippers on my own head. I am not Sinead O'Connor. I know. It's a shock to me sometimes too. But I'm playing about with my hair whilst I can. Week One of the lockdown saw me find an old box of highlighting bleach. I trimmed my fringe and slapped on the dye. It did not turn green, fall out, or make me look daft. (An entirely subjective opinion I guess, but other judgements don't interest me in the slightest.) In fact, it perked me up no end. Because of having dark hair, it went a coppery-ginge, which was a nice contrast between the rest of the dark brown towards the back. Next week, I am going to slap on another box. This 'should' make it go actual blonde. I'll be just like Marilyn Monroe! Or Kim Woodburn! The thing is, I'd never do this in real life. But a mixture of boredom, wanting to do something different, and needing to fill an empty hour, have all converged on this stylish moment. 

Now is the time to look
like a pencil, should you wish.

As the initial anxiety of the 'current global situation' merges into tedium and ennui, using the time for potential hair disasters might just be the ticket. It's as near to living on the edge as we've got right now. You want to feel something? Take the plunge and shave that first stripe into your head. You want to liven up your day? Bleach some streaks into your dark hair. Bored of your increasingly overgrown cut? Follow this BBC article and trim it yourself. Now's the time. Fingers crossed, there'll never again be a period in our lives like this. It's time to mix things up. Have a go. Try something brave. At the very least, it'll give the hairdressers and stylists something to fix when we're eventually allowed to go back to them.

Have a lovely week, folks.

At-Home Style Debunked..

It's certainly socially distanced.

As we continue to adapt to the new world around us, it's only fair that companies do the same. I am regularly lifted by deliveries of food and drink that I would otherwise have had to leave the house to consume. My weekend is all the better for having ordered a delivered takeaway from an establishment that just last month was pick-up only. I greatly appreciate the case of Prosecco that my local wine bar dropped off a few days ago. We are all adapting, and companies that can, are doing so too. Fair play to them. Crack on. 

I did, however, find myself raising the slightest of eyebrows this week. I got a email from a famous high street store. Let's just call them Parks and Bencers. Now, I get it. Other than the food aisles, their stores are closed. There's warehouses full of stock to shift and they have staff wages to pay. They're thinking outside the box to make this work for them. That being said, it was all just a bit much for me. The email was titled...

'Expert Tips for At-Home Style'

My own take on at-home
style last weekend. Delivery
cask ale from a local bar.

Now then. What's at-home style? That was my first question. I am feeling unprecedented levels of personal achievement when I am awake, clean, and functional by 10am. I am proud of myself every time I eschew PJs and go for the more formal leggings and t-shirt look. I am washing my hair, half as often as I used to, economising on product-use and water consumption. My at-home style is not what it was. So, what expert tips can Farks and Dencers offer? 

Well, scrolling through the email, it focuses on a few essential items. A pair of high-waisted jeans, modelled with a tucked camel shirt and smart ankle boots. A lamp and some picture frames for my home office. Then the idea of keeping my 'pens, pencils, scissors, rulers etc tidy and close to hand in a pot, mug, or jam jar.'

My initial thought was comprised of two words. Seeing as we're playing with rhyme, let me tell you they sounded remarkably like muck hoff. Like everyone in their own way, I'm dealing with a lot right now. Having my home-lighting and pen-organisation shamed, felt a bit much. My work area - which I am struggling to use anyway - does not need to be pressured into thinking it's not good enough.

This mascara is so good it should
be called 'Better than Cheese'. Please
note my at-home style of make-up
splattered, filthy mirror.

After I closed the email, I felt confident my initial snark wasn't misplaced. It felt like it played into all the worst aspects of advertising. The 'your life is so rubbish without our product, how can you even live?' pressure that we experience. By insinuating my at-home style was a bit shit, it reminded me of the crappy rise of vagina-improving products. The advertising notion that all vaginas are terrible until you spend your money on tightening, pinkening, and perfuming products. Even in a lockdown, I haven't got time for that shit. And, I've got time for all sorts of rubbish. So, yeah. The Barks and Lencers email irritated me.

I've found that since everything changed, my at-home style - a phrase I'm now using willy nilly - has a strange dichotomy to it. On the one hand, I'm clinging to routines and rituals more than normal. I'm applying makeup every day, instead of five days a week. I'm making sure I get dressed in clothes for some hours a day - even on a Sunday that used to be a PJ-only zone. Making an effort feels more important than it once did. But, on the other hand, there are some things that I'm happy to let slide. I've not bothered with eyeliner for weeks. During the previous decade I didn't leave home without it, so that's fairly significant. Likewise, blusher. What's the point? Each day might now include makeup, but it's much more basic and 'natural' now. (As natural as perfectly shaped brunette brows can be on someone with a history wonky plucking and a lot of grey.)

My own at-home style expert
tip. Put a bottle of room
temperature white wine in
the freezer and forget
that's what you did. Hours later,
 it will result in serendipitous
wine slush #wineslush

Routines and rituals might be keeping me going, but some things are too much. The camel shirt and high-waisted jeans on the email? No. Sorry, I'm not even going to consider it. If I wore a camel shirt and jeans (which are perfectly lovely garments judging by the picture) I would be going out for the evening. I'd be in a pub or bar. I'd be watching a play or going for a meal. I would not be experiencing at-home style. If I wore something like that during a lockdown, I'd have lost my mind. For some, it may well be the ultimate in homely casual wear. For me, that accolade can only come from a garment made from fleece and including a hood. Sorry, Darks and Krencers. That's just how I roll. 

Obviously I got over it. The irritation. The snark. It didn't last long. I thought about it for a bit and got a grip. I was forgetting to see things from other people's perspective, you see. For some, ordering a new desk lamp might be the difference between a crap day and an OK one. Others may find that new jeans lift their mood. Some might get pleasure in rinsing out an old jam jar for their biros. Who am I to judge? 

I recognise an ad campaign and fair play to Narksies for adapting and rejigging their usual mailouts. And the lamp did look very nice. But for me, one of the things about the lockdown is not needing to worry so much about at-home style. I don't imagine the kitchen lights illuminating my Zooms are as flattering as they could be. I wear clothes that I'd never wear in public (hello leggings and t-shirts). In a similar vein, my brother has uncharacteristically bare-bladed his head. In these mad times, not needing to worry about at-home style is an upside. In the meantime, as it's the only place I've bought knickers in the past twenty years, I really need Larks and Fencers to keep going. I have no idea where else I'd get my pants. So please, if you're so inclined, buy that camel shirt! Buy those high-waisted jeans! Get your home office into tip-top shape. My future underwear purchases depend on you. Meanwhile me and my non-defined eyelids will be unflatteringly lit in a hoody for the foreseeable.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Will the World Pull a Madonna?

'When the plague forced Shakespeare into lockdown, he wrote King Lear. You should use the time to be just as creatively worthy!' screamed Twitter a couple of weeks ago. 'Write that symphony, learn conversational Mandarin, now's the time to master the berimbau!' 

I mean I could learn the sax over the
coming weeks. If I wanted to.

It was all a bit much, wasn't it. Whilst people watched their social plans, finances, and careers grind to a shuddering halt, being encouraged to use the abundance of free time brilliantly and intelligently, smacked of 'being a tit'. Perhaps for some, the enforced closure of life has benefitted them. (I am more than happy being actively encouraged not to hug.) But for others, getting up, administering to personal hygiene, and not hitting the gin before tea time is as equally a Herculean task as writing King Lear.

On paper, it should have been piss-easy for me. I mostly worked from home already. I was waist-deep into the editing process. Beyond the lack of non-home-based activities come evening, everything was the same. I could crack on as per.

Well obvs, that was bollocks. Rolling news, Twitter doom and gloom, mixed messages, exercise police, head-frigs all over the place - they all forced my head into shut down. It dawned on me early doors that I would have to give some thought to how I could carry on with the novel. A tweet from Sathnam Sanghera highlighted the nub of the issue. '(A) whole load of novelists out there suddenly realising that their contemporary novels in progress are now in fact period pieces.' Quite.

Any future work of fiction set in the modern day, is going to look very different. I alluded to this worry last year, when I wrote about how Brexit might need to be mentioned in forthcoming contemporary novels. This feels the same. There are a couple of specific issues that mean I'm not sure how to crack on with my book right now. First, it's likely when 'all this' is over, that life will have changed. I don't know how yet. No one does. Will Tilda, Bea, and Stewart, leap back into their routines as normal and by the time the book comes out it'll be business as usual? Or would the idea of characters behaving the way they once would, seem unbelievable and dated? Will COVID get mentioned in every conversation for the rest of our lives? When 'all this' calms down, will the effects on society be so visible that a novelist would have to incorporate them, just for realistic background? That's my first worry. The stupid thing I did with the first book, was to date it. It was set throughout 2016. I decided to be far vaguer with the timeline on this one. It's meant to take place two and a half years later, but it's basically whenever the published date of 'now' ends up being. It will definitely be in a post-Corona world.

This is where my new book is
set, but people are congregating!
That bench will need a wipe down.

The second issue is more specific to my book. My theme is social isolation. I know. What are the odds? Except now I have a much more specific definition of the phrase than I did when I planned the thing. My interpretation of social isolation was how, for varying reasons, the three main characters had moved away from their friendship groups, their social circles, and the support systems they had once known. Whether it was due to divorce, bereavement, or that their friends were busy with families, the three main characters were lonely. The plot allowed that theme to run its course, before giving them opportunities to connect - through risk taking, seeking new experiences, and reaching out. (The actual plot makes all that sounds loads more fun. Promise.) All that's well and good but what now? Can I usher a new novel into the world whose very theme of social isolation doesn't even begin to touch the sides of what we now understand by the term?

You see why my head was overwhelmed? YOU SEE? The good news is I have time to think. There's no rush. I can let this thing run its course and then see where we are. Days later, as I adjusted to the idea that having a break from the book might be useful, Sathnam Sanghera tweeted another pearl of wisdom to make me think. 'Writers: If you're thinking now might be a good time to start a novel on the pandemic, please, for the love of God, don't. When this is over, we'll want other things to think about. Do everyone a favour.' Once again, quite.

My ideal scenario - aside from tasting draft beer in a lively pub again - is that by the start of next year, the lockdown is over, there's a semblance of normality, and this book can enter the world some months later and make sense just as it is. I don't want to have to do a complete overhaul of the plot. I'm not sure it would work, even if I did. I want my book to be the way I planned it. The relatable journeys of likably flawed characters, with humour and emotion thrown in. I really don't want to have them only connect through Zoom. That would be shit. Fingers crossed that the next few months of strangeness comes to an end. I can ride it out and then crack on. That's my hope. We shall see.

Alderman's novel, The Power,
along with dystopian setting.
 

Meanwhile, some more thoughts from others. No, not Sathnam Sanghera for a change. I know. There are other excellent writers out there. First up was this article on the BBC website, where novelist, Anne Tyler, makes clear she won't be including Ms Rona in her novels. 'It would derail the small, private story I want to tell.' I like what she says. I want to copy her stance. I just need to see if, in time, it will be possible.

Finally, there was an interesting chat between journalist Dorian Lynskey and author Naomi Alderman on The Bunker podcast, last week. About seven minutes from the end, Alderman talked about writing novels that deal with global threat*. She said it's best to do it from the perspective of the global threat being over. Lynskey agreed and said how reading books set in the past feels safer because the stressful situation is over and consigned to history.

Dorian Lynskey: What's very stressful about this current period is that we are in the middle. We're like a character in the novel that doesn't have the narrator or doesn't have the appendix, or the footnotes, or anything to say, 'Ah, and actually it turned out six months later yadda yadda yadda...It must quite be therapeutic to sort of fictionally just jump forward.

Naomi Alderman: It's really really nice. That's really one of the things that novels are for, for me, is to leave the present moment. That skill is extremely useful. Because sometimes the present moment is extremely unpleasant.

So, I've gathered the evidence. I've given it some thought. I think, as far as a plan of action is concerned, a continued pause on the book will be useful. I want it to be the same as I planned. I want the society I wrote about to be recognisable to the reader. In the meantime, I will wait and see whether the world reimagines itself - like Madonna with a new album - or whether it's back to the old recognisable ways. Then, if life resumes in a similar way, I won't have to change the plot. However, if the world has changed beyond all recognition, and comes out Vogueing instead of Desperately Seeking Susan, then I'll have another think. Perhaps I can refashion the book as historical whimsy. Either way, I'm glad I've thought it through.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*Global threat was my paraphrasing. Click the link to the podcast and hear her words exactly. 

Lockdown Birthday Fun...

Here's a question that at one time would have been 100% hypothetical. How do you celebrate a birthday when a national lockdown is announced, three and a half hours before it's due to start?

42 today. New top,
big tea. Could be worse.

Yep. That's where I was at a couple of weeks ago. After a succession of daily briefings, each one announcing a little more restriction to society, the big guns were saved for the eve of my 42nd. I didn't take it personally. Indeed, I'd seen it coming and had been adapting my plans with each new restriction. When it came to the day, the restaurants and bars were out. The family get together at home was not allowed. Even the solo drive to a beautiful part of the country was not going to happen. I was left with me. Me, in a house, with a local environment to walk in, and whatever food delivery options I still had in the vicinity. 

Perspective is always handy in these sorts of situations. I could be ill. I could be dead. I could be unhappy with my own company. I could be attempting to homeschool a brood of children. I could be working long hours in a hospital, pharmacy, or supermarket. I could be living with an abusive partner. I could live in a tiny bedsit with nowhere to walk nearby. None of these things were my reality so all in all, it was a good day. It just took a bit of extra thought to make my birthday feel as nice as it possibly could. 

My thumb is covering up wine.
If you were in any doubt.

Because I like to impart helpful information at times like these, I am here to help you navigate your own special days in lockdown. Many of us will have birthdays over the coming weeks or months. Some people will feel the need to make the Easter weekend different to the others. Maybe it will be your anniversary, or the date of the wedding you were supposed to have before all this started. Here's my guide to making a really ordinary, restricted day, feel different from the ones before and the ones after. See what you think, adapt, ignore. As per.

1. I had breakfast in bed. I never do this usually, but I got up, made toast (with full fat butter no less!) and a cup of tea, and climbed back under the covers. It was lovely. Eat something you usually deny yourself. Luxuriate in the preparation of it. Take it to the most decadent place you can choose. Revel.

2. I had a bath. For some this is a daily event so skip this if it applies. For me, and my annoyingly small cess pit - not a euphemism - it's a weekly rationed pastime. That is, except on my birthday, when my motto of choice is, 'Sod it.' I also shaved my legs, used posh conditioner that I don't normally bother with, and took a lot longer than necessary. Because I could. 

New top, nice fields,
windblown but conditioned hair.

3. I wore new clothes. I had a small amount of pharmacy-related work to do in the morning so that doesn't count. But I did wear a new top to do it in. I had already bought it for the family meal that never happened, so I wore it for my rejigged birthday instead. Wearing anything new makes me feel nice. My new year's resolution was to avoid buying new clothes unless something wears out. But this top was meant for a special meal, so it had been deemed OK by the Nicky Bond Ruling Body of New Year's Resolutions. (Happily it was a blue shirt, and not a sparkly black number that would have been inappropriate in a Pharmacy setting.) As I drove, I played this song on repeat, that my sister sent me. It is probably well-known but it was new to me. (Anything released in this millennium is likely to have passed me by.) Find some music to soundtrack your special day. Sing it loud. Make it upbeat.

A birthday footpath.

4. I had an adventure. I live by some fields. Occasionally I do a circuit of a couple of them. That's my basic daily walk. But there's a place a little further behind those fields that locals have talked of all my life and I have never been. At least not that I can remember and definitely not as an adult. So, I checked the map, got detailed instructions from my brother, and then set off to find... Pex Hill! Locals will find this amusing. It's not Narnia, nor the Enchanted Forest, it's just a nice place to go for a wander. Beloved of dog walkers and local 10K-ers, and now me. In terms of adventure, it really was. Mostly because I never found it. In spite of following the instructions to the letter, I took a wrong turn somewhere and came back to the road before I had found the hill. But still, it was a very pleasant five mile walk, in breezy but warm conditions, seeing a bit of countryside, and building up an appetite for calories later. Explore somewhere new. There are footpaths, roads, or housing estates that you've always driven past but never seen where they lead. Now's the time to explore. (Locally, at a safe distance, and only once a day. But still.)

My Scandikitchen order
arrived on my birthday. This
was purely coincidental but
cheered me up no end.

5. I had a Eurovision. Don't skip this part, just use it to think of your own historical and brilliant TV events. The day before, I had celebrated my birthday eve with my fave, 1992. It's my fave because it's the first ESC where I got a bit obsessed. I can almost quote the commentary word for word, and I know all the songs, albeit none of the lyrics. I simply laaa laaa laaa along with gusto. So 1992 had been boxed off, and danced along with, the day before. Come my birthday, I followed chronological convention and went with 1993. I also knew this pretty well, but haven't seen it as much over the years. It was like revisiting an old friend from years ago. I knew it well but was fascinated to see how it had aged. Plus it brought back memories. My baby brother was born two months before this contest. I remember being left with him a few times (CUE VIOLINS!) and putting this on as a last resort, to stop him crying. My memory is that it did the trick. It was also funny to be reminded of Sonia, who I had forgotten all about. But yeah, use your own happy TV memories. YouTube will have them all. A football match, an Olympic event, a Royal Variety Show? A week or so into lockdown and YouTube are doing a lot of heavy lifting. National Theatre Live are streaming new plays every Thursday, and The Show Must Go On channel are streaming Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals every Friday. We're being spoilt with content. We should use it.

Get in. (Please note the
low calorie milk roll
I have included. Always
striving for health, me.)

6. I had food and drink. It was all a bit fraught in the days leading up to my birthday. One by one restaurants and take-away places were closing. Some were hanging on for longer, but nothing was guaranteed. When it came to it, I was lucky. My local chippy was (and still are) doing online ordering, online payment, and socially distanced pick-ups. I also had my bottle of champagne that had been chilling for a month. With chippy chips and adult-pop it really did feel like a birthday. Then there was cake. By the time I had eaten, and was opening my cards and presents, it felt as lovely as it normally would. Finding restaurants that deliver is a thrill. I'm placing regular orders with Scandikitchen. I've got a frozen bag of scouse in my freezer, delivered by SKAUS in town, that I'm saving for Easter Sunday. I even put in a wine order with my local wine bar that got delivered the same day. Businesses are having to adapt, and the ones that can, are delivering. It'd be impossible to afford it all the time, but for a special day, special food helps.


Full of chips and booze, my birthday was over. The next day, I was fully at peace with the lockdown. Just as I would have been initially, had it not signalled a further tightening of my birthday freedom. As well as the stuff listed above, I also had a House Party chat with some family, received several vouchers for local businesses that I wanted to support, and was given rain-free Spring-like weather. It was a good day. Would it have been better if I'd been able to go out for lunch, get my hair done, have a manicure, and hit the pub that night? Well, yeah, obvs. That goes without saying, surely. But none of that was an option, so I adapted. I'm lucky I could. The longer this goes on, the more boredom will set in. We may become used to the new rubbish normal, but it won't make it any more fun. We have to inject bursts of change into the weeks ahead. If you've got your own special day coming up, for whatever reason, you have the chance to plan ahead. Make a list of fun-injections. Plan your clothes, food, pampering routines, whatever floats your boat. I am here to advise. Use me.

But What Can an Ice-Cream Taster Do?...

Isn't it lovely how nice people are being? National clapping en masse, neighbourhood WhatsApp groups all over the show, sporty types streaming PE content to children everywhere. Even Candy Crush have been giving away free lives, willy nilly. Proper heartwarming, it is.

I'm sure it's not intentional, 
but Snow White looks like she's 
taking the piss here.

But living with a frontline NHS member of staff tends to put my own worth into perspective*. Even though I KNOW I'm marvellous, the question has to be asked, 'Does the world REALLY need me to spend an entire day tweaking a paragraph to make it flow better? DOES IT?' 

Well, you know what, at some point the answer will be a resounding, 'YES, IT DOES'. Frivolous, silly, and escapist fun will be back in our lives before long. It might even be keeping some of us going while we're in lockdown. But while creative endeavour has its well-established place in society, I'm happy to accept it's not important with a capital I. Not really. Pharmacists, nurses, doctors and all varieties of NHS workers are definitely worthy of their collective clap, no arguments there. On top of that, there's a fairly large amount of perspective being drawn about a host of other roles too. Cleaners, carers, dispensers, drivers, supermarket staff, refuse collectors, and many many more, are now considered vitally important roles that allow society to tick over in the face of threat. We should have known that already, but it's clear as anything now. 

So what can I do? Well, at the moment I appear to be - touch wood, hello Mr Magpie, stand back as I throw salt over my shoulder etc etc  - the only Bond within a sixty-mile radius not having to isolate for fourteen days. So I can still get groceries and medication to those that can't. But that's not all. Oh no. I can also give you the gift of free books! Yes, there's no point having a couple of novels going spare, if you can't share them freely with the world when there's a global pandemic, is there? That's just basic. 

But there's a snag. Those pesky beggars at Amazon won't let me make my ebooks any cheaper than £0.99p. I vaguely remember having to ensure any price I set ended with .99 so they were standardised. So, if you want the ebook of either Carry the Beautiful, or Leeza McAuliffe Has Something To Say then it's as cheap as it can be via the links above.

Leeza McAuliffe Has
Something To Say FREE
Child-friendly - puberty gets
 mentioned, as does a bit of Y6 SRE. 
I'd say around the 8+age range.

But, I can do more! If you want to get your hands on either book for absolutely-definitely-for sure free, I can offer you the PDF docs of both novels. There is very little difference between those and the ebooks, anyway. Click the link to whichever you fancy, (below the cover picture) and they should be there for you. And you don't need an eReader or Kindle App to access them. Just the old 'tint. They might pass the time for a day or so. Alternatively, they might make you realise that if this is the sort of thing that passes for literature, you could do much better yourself. Rise to the challenge and use the lockdown to get that novel out of your system! Go on, have a go, there is literally nothing to lose.

Carry the Beautiful FREE
Adult fiction. Tilda starts to
wonder about her past?
She pulls a thread that
won't stop unravelling. 
How will it all turn out?

If you want something even more brilliant and interesting to read than my own output (What? Yeah, it's hard to believe, but it's true) here is the link to the screenplay of Knives Out (and some others by Rian Johnson) that I read recently. Rian Johnson released it to help those in lockdown and I read it and it passed a very happy afternoon. Seeing the film is infinitely better, but reading the script afterwards always makes me view things much more deeply. Have a look, if you are so inclined.

So there we go. Free books, links to a cracking script, and heartfelt appreciation for all the people making sure we can function as much as possible. Remember, when all else fails, and books and scripts aren't doing it for us, there's always Candy Crush. Get popping those candies and distract yourself mindlessly for a bit longer.

Have a lovely week, folks.


*This sketch from Mitchell and Webb nails it perfectly and makes me laugh too. It also explains the title of this post.

Let's Cut to the Chase...

No need for preamble, we know where we are. While the Government take measures for our physical safety, it's on us to safeguard our mental health the best we can. Here are some ideas. Not tips - they won't all be appropriate or effective for everyone - but ideas. Take them, adapt them, ignore them. No worries. 

1. Keep the endorphins pumping. Feeling rubbish can sometimes be eased with a spot of exercise and this is my suggested spot. Here's a link for a five minute Bollywood workout. Five minutes, indoors, with cheery music. I've done it every time I've had to step away from social media and it's done my head wonders. (And my fitness levels.*)

2. Step away from social media. My Twitter feed, whilst lively and often informative, makes my head ache. The family WhatsApp group can be the same at the moment. I'm limiting what I read. I'm trying to stop commenting on anything other than nice things, and I'm forcing myself to do other stuff instead. Writing, when I can. Bollywood workouts, of course. Plus a bunch of other distractions. More of them below.

A shared cake for the two
birthdays of the household
 this week. Cream cheese
topping to follow.

3. Bake a cake. Supermarket shelves are patchy and there are restrictions on popular items. Ingredients, however, tend to be available, especially for the more obscure or interesting recipes. Smaller shops and online providers are stepping up and then there's always the random stuff you've got left from that one time you made that birthday cake, remember? So, flour, butter, and sugar? That's a tray of biscuits right there. Or flour, yeast, and not much else? That's all that goes into a basic loaf. When your head's gone, think how therapeutic all that kneeding and pounding will be. Then if you're up for something a little more adventurous, how about this white chocolate tea bread? In fact, Jack Monroe's entire website is a delight - full of interesting food made from simple ingredients. There's bound to be a recipe that uses whatever tins you've ended up with. It's nourishing, and keeps your hands and mind busy, all at once.

Fresh air, a change of scenery,
lots of endorphins, and definitely
 two metres away from anyone.

4. Change your environment. Walks are good if you're allowed out and you keep your social distance. More of those endorphins along with the natural light has to be a positive thing. But if you're inside all day, it's time to be creative. Work from one room in the day and move to another for the evening. Change the lighting so it feels different. I'm switching on my fairy lights every night now. (A fairy light's for life, not just for Christmas!) because it makes me happy. Ditto candles. I only usually light them when people come round, but now it's a dusk ritual.

5. Music Therapy. It took a few days for me to work this out. I'd wake up, feel fine, read the news, and my head would immediately ache. So now, I wake up, feel fine, and play Walking on Sunshine as I make my first cup of tea. When that gets tired, I've got a list of instant mood-lifting bangers in my back pocket. Flashdance, I'm Your Man, The Story of the Blues Pt 1. Songs that put a momentary spring in my step and make me feel braced for anything. When my birthday hits tomorrow, I'll be bringing in the big guns - Loreen's Euphoria, of course.

I bought one pair of shoes, that I
hated, and that I eventually sold on
eBay after they sat in my wardrobe
 for years. But even Gucci are
reaching out and checking in on me.

6. Communicate with others. This is a tricky one. In normal life, I tend not to bother, day in day out. I'm used to being around people at a distance but not necessarily chatting with them, so communicating is new. But it's interesting how the situation has forced a few changes. I've sent more messages and emails to people I won't be seeing, than I have for years. I've chatted to my most local family member a lot more than normal, as we work out the logistics of family stuff. I even had my first phone conversation last week! I know! Like it's 2003. Times change when they need to, and here we are. 

Book recommendations are
cheering me up. I've
saved this screen shot
so I can look these books up,
 when I need a new distraction.

7. Delay some gratification. Last week I talked about stockpiling quality television. I've since downloaded the first episode of Last Tango in Halifax. It's there in my planner, waiting for me to dive in. The anticipation of that is almost as thrilling as the eventual viewing will be. Knowing it's there is giving me something to look forward to, no matter when it ends up taking place. Likewise, last Saturday, Knives Out became available to buy. I realised there's a bunch of quality films that'll be released over the next couple of months, that I saw in the cinema at the start of the year. So I can eagerly anticipate the release of Jojo Rabbit, Little Women, and It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood. And then there are all the classic Eurovisions I'm going to revisit. (My brother was talking in similar terms about old Everton matches.) Looking forward to viewing plans, for an unspecified future date, raises my mood. Anticipation. It's as potent as actual enjoyment, and lasts longer. 

My brother's standard Saturday
cafe breakfast, in new takeaway format.

8. Be helpful. There are a million ways to help others that can make you feel proactive rather than passive. Offering to get someone's shopping. Spreading the word about an online service that a local business is offering. Ringing or emailing someone you know will be glad of the contact. It doesn't need to be massive. There's also satisfaction to be found in making a note of the companies that are treating their employees well. I've already made a few decisions about where my money will be going after all this blows over, and conversely, where it won't. 

9. Do your best. Everyone is interpreting the news messages the best way they can, whilst taking in the grim realisation of the financial implications. Everyone is making tough decisions based on a balance of their responsibilities and their own health needs. Sometimes it sounds like it's fine to go to the shops as long as you keep your two metres distance. Other times it sounds like you'll hospitalise someone if you look at them through your window. Stick to the official news sources, check them once a day, and then move on to something else. Cakes, TV, Bollywood workouts, whatever. 

My kitchen wall. Positive activities
blu tacked on at eye level. I see them
every time I get a cup of tea.

Like I say, some of these ideas won't work for everyone. We've all got different guidelines to follow, depending on our own and our family's health. Some of these ideas won't be appropriate for some. But some might be useful. Some might help. Keeping a routine, keeping busy, and keeping away as much negativity as possible will help towards easing some of the stress. If my head feels like I've got a never-ending OFSTED now, it's only going to get worse if I don't plan how I can support myself over the forthcoming weeks. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

*My aim is to be able to complete it in full, without getting out of breath, by the time normal business resumes. Then I might move on to something in the 6 minute category. The fact I am advocating exercise shows we are in uncharted water.