Monday, 28 April 2025

Do Better, May...

So what do you think? Was T.S. Eliot right? Is April really 'the cruellest month'? 

An animated duck with a baseball hat on its head, is dancing about on the spot. The caption reads, Do Better.
You know what to do, May.
Looking at the current global news cycle, it's not far off the mark, although not confined merely to April 2025. Still, let's spin this as best we can. We're about to shake off the month's shackles, and embrace a new start with May. Perhaps things will look and feel a little more upbeat on Thursday. Maybe?

Meanwhile, I'm packing for the annual Bond caravan mini-break and keeping my fingers crossed for the perfect caravan weather. What's the perfect caravan weather? Why, thank you for asking. It's bright sunny skies, a cool chill in the air, and a total absence of rain. The temperature should be around the fourteen degree mark, and jumpers and/or fleeces should still be required. It should be chilly enough to need PJs in bed but not so cold that I'm shivering throughout the night. Based on previous years, it could literally be anything - rain, shine, or gales and widespread flooding. The latter has been particularly common in the part of Wales I'm visiting. I'll keep you posted.

Three bullet points on a word document. 1. Need to reduce word count by 10,000. 2. cab is in lower case letters, not CBA. 3. Texts are always in ALL CAPS.
A sneak preview of my editing list
Writing News
I've gone through my notes! Yep, after my massive read through last week, I collated the notes I'd made, and added them to the pile of Post-Its on my desk. The ones where I'd had a random thought at some point during the writing of draft one, and noted it down for a later date. I also scrolled through my notebook app. There's all sorts of snippets on there. Again, when I've been on a train or at someone's house and my mind has wandered to my book, I've noted it down. Now everything's combined, and they're all in once place. I've got a massive list of bullet points to work through and the next few months have some sort of structure.

A man in Edwardian clothes is standing in a large drawing room when a bookcase topples over on top of him and crushes him to death.
Apologies for the Howard's End spoiler
but it got written in 1910.
You've had time to read it.
Culture
There's something about a Bank Holiday that makes me crave a certain type of TV viewing. A lazy weekend demands a mini series. It must have period costumes, and be an excellent interpretation of a classic novel. I want stifled desire and rigid class structures. I want people to break free of societal expectation, and be daring and bold as they throw caution to the wind. Reader, I want an E.M Forster adaptation!

And so it came to pass that I bought the 2017 BBC series, Howard's End on iTunes. For £5.99 I got four hours of quality telly. I've read the book and I've seen the Emma Thompson and Anthony Hopkins film, but this version is the best. (IMHO) It makes so much clearer the choices that individual characters make. (Like, why would Margaret ever marry Henry? Why can't  Helen leave Mr. Bast alone? And why would someone leave their house to a person they've only just met?) On top of all that, Hayley Atwell and Matthew Macfadyen are brilliant. Now that I've got myself in the mood, I want more. I'm currently rewatching Middlemarch (1994) and next, I'm going to see off Far From the Madding Crowd (1998). It's so lovely to have plans. (Oh, and obviously I'll be rewatching Conclave at some point. It'd be rude not to right now.)

A white side plate, with three slices of toast. The toast is covered in a reddish coloured butter. One of the slices has a bite mark out of it.
Anchovy butter on
homemade bread.


Food and Drink
One day I'll stop banging on about anchovies. I promise. But before I do, I'll just leave this with you. Get a tub of your butter/butter alternative and empty it into a bowl. Add four tins of chopped, drained anchovies and mash it all together. Add a decent shake (half a tablespoon? More?) of smoked paprika and perhaps some garlic? Whatever flavours you like, really. Mix and mash until the anchovies are a mush, and the whole thing is a shade of reddy-brown. Now squish it back into the tub. Ta-daaa! You've got yourself some anchovy butter!

Right now, I'm using this on my toast, on my butties, and as something in which to pan fry prawns, eggs, or veggies. It's as versatile as you want it to be. And in non-anchovy news, I'd forgotten how lovely a crunchy lettuce leaf could be in a sandwich. I've been having lettuce, cucumber, and cheese butties for my recent lunches. (Not forgetting the anchovy butter, natch.)

Out and About
Writing to my MP and emailing Keir Starmer was all well and good, but I wanted to be more visible in my support for trans people. Peaceful protests were planned all over the country, and on Saturday, I joined the one in Liverpool. It felt good. It was interesting to note the vibe of the crowd, though. Lots of young people - as you'd possibly expect - but lots of older people too. People with signs that indicated they weren't trans but were gay and had seen this shit before. I heartily belted out TRANSPHOBIA IS NOT FEMINISM and TRANS RIGHTS ARE HUMAN RIGHTS at regular intervals and felt ashamed for the people who are cishet like me, but don't recognise those sentiments to be true. 

On we plod. This time next week, I'll have completed a three day caravan extravaganza with multi-generational family representation. And yes, I know I've described that like it's a three-peaks challenge or Tough Mudder event. If it rains, and we're all squashed into a teeny-tiny living space, it'll feel like the most gruelling of challenges. Fingers crossed my desired weather arrives to save the day. More next Monday... yes?
 
Have a lovely week, folks.

Monday, 21 April 2025

Solidarity with my Trans Siblings...

It doesn't matter what last Wednesday's Supreme Court ruling, says. If I'm in a public loo, and a trans woman uses a cubicle next to me, I'm going to pay zero attention and carry on with my day. If we're standing at the sinks, and she says hello/smiles/does absolutely nothing at all, then I'll probably politely reciprocate, and then also carry on with my day. 

The trans flag. It's five horizontal stripes, and from the top the colours are turquoise, pink, white, pink, turquoise.
It's not trans women who make me feel anxious in public toilets. It's the kind of people that brought the action to the Supreme Court in the first place - transphobes who are obsessed about what's in people's pants. That's well creepy. The kind of people who wouldn't challenge anyone they felt 'looked' like a woman but would feel emboldened to question anyone that challenges their narrow view of femininity. Do we all need to wear makeup now? What about women with short hair? Oh, and heaven forbid you've had a double mastectomy. Expect to be confronted, should you ever meet one of these awful people, when you're desperate for a wee.

The only brief light relief in this massive back step for feminism, is to imagine the hissy fits when trans men start to use the Ladies. Either way, I'll be weeing, washing my hands, and cracking on with my day. I look forward to the day when everyone else does too.

A screen shot of my instagram story. It shows my open laptop that's displaying a word doc. In large font on a blank page it says, Leeza McAuliffe Book 3 by Nicky Bond. Then, in a caption I've added over the top in pink writing, it says, 'Reading from start to finish plus notes. Start time is 9.39am. Going in.'
Writing News
In the end it took me ten hours and nineteen minutes. Kind of. I started reading the first draft of the next Leeza McAuliffe book at 9.39am and finished at 7.58pm. There were a couple of interruptions throughout the day. Mainly, the guy doing my patio felt strongly that the paving slabs I'd chosen were wrong and I had to go to the tile place and rethink. Lolzzz. Brief shopping trips aside, I read continuously. And when it was done, I had a few pages of notes. The next job is to ponder the notes. I need to think about what parts can be ditched and what parts need strengthening. The good news is, I laughed, was moved, and felt satisfied at the end. Win.

Culture
I'm not sure whether this is Culture or not, but it certainly felt historic. On Friday, I visited my parents. My niece had shown an interest in the family photo albums, and so after tea, we sat down and went through them. We began in 1978 and ended in 2018. (My parents mustn't have felt the need to print off anything since then.) It took three hours, and covered twenty-one albums. My brain was absolute mush. My niece, however, seemed to have unending stamina for the chronological history of the Bond family and soaked it all up.

A photo of a family photo in an album. It's clearly faded and from some years ago. It shows a log flume at a theme part, with five children sitting in. They are of varying ages from 4-10. As they plunge down the slope, they're all wide mouthed and screaming.
Bond family history.
These kids are adults now!
What was weird/lovely was to see every single personal milestone, fashion mistake, holiday, and bad haircut archived for posterity. It was also interesting to see the inequality. There was not one photo of any of my sports days, but several pages of one of my little brother's. One sister got a page devoted to her graduation, another got just one photo - of her holding the official graduation photo in front of her face, with the flash obscuring most of it. I guess with seven kids, consistency is impossible. Either way, it was a fascinating evening of family history immersion. An elongated 'life flashing before my eyes' if you will. Can recommend, if you have a similar family photo album set up.

Food and Drink
A long overdue catch up with mates happened on Thursday. We planned to meet in town and head to Bold Street, but beyond that it was vague. The good news is, we found the best place. Ropes and Twines was about half way up on the right, and had excellent wines. Plus, we randomly picked a night where an artist was having an exhibition. His photos were around the walls, and he did a speech where he explained how he'd come to create the collection. All that, as WELL as excellent mates and lots of laughter. Spoilt, I was.

A photo of a patio display at a tile yard. The patio in the centre is a section of slabs that are multicoloured ranging from greys to browns to yellows. There's a grey edging around them.
The new patio tiles I've chosen. 
For your records.
Out and About
I think I've mentioned all my comings and goings above. I was at the rents' in Wales, I was out in town, and I had to choose a second tile option to appease the guy doing the patio. All fun and games. Oooh, I also got to watch my nephew, who'd never had the pleasure of my baby-sitting skills before. He was top company. Happily, he chose to watch TV with me (much more preferable to being forced into active participation of a game) and kept me up to date with the plot twists of his Lego cartoon. A marvellous morning.

Did you have a happy Easter? Is that your bag? Are you enjoying the Bank holiday nonetheless? Whatever you did, I hope it was fun. And if not, that means the fun times are on their way. That's the rule!  

Have a lovely week, folks.

Monday, 14 April 2025

The Next Big Push...

And relaaaxxxx. My busy weeks of birthday celebrations, mini breaks, and friends and family get togethers, are done. I can focus on the book, once again. 

Spongebob Square Pants is in a flap and a frenzy. He's running around the place, throwing papers up in the air, screaming, and adopting about. It's chaos.
What the inside of my head
will be like once I've opened
up the manuscript once again.
I guess, 'relax' isn't the right vibe, tbh. There'll be no relaxing when I get my writing head back on. But even when my brain's filled with words and characters for multiple hours a day, I do love my routine being in place. I love the breakfast, dinner, and tea of it all. The steaming mug as I sit at the desk. The tapping of keys being punctuated by wees and stretches every couple of hours. Even when my head feels it is full of angry bees, I'm excited that my exterior surroundings will be calm and serene. That's the plan anyway. We go again tomorrow. 

Writing News
I've kind of already told you. Tomorrow, unexpected catastrophes aside, I'll be back at my desk and reading the 3rd Leeza McAuliffe book from the beginning to the end, then changing almost everything about it over the next few months. I can't lie, I'm looking forward to seeing what I wrote. 

The iconic Liverpool Liver Buidlings. A large grey brick building, with twin domes that have large liver birds sitting on top. Set against a backdrop of the river, the sun has just set, creating a layer of orange against the darker blue sky.
An actual good photo
taken by me. Lordy.
Culture
Isn't Liverpool a beautiful city? I've known this forever, of course, but it was made blatantly obvious to me last week. I was at a wedding in town, where the rooftop drinks terrace looked over the Liver Buildings. And as the set over the river, it was spectacular. Aren't I lucky to be six train stops away from it all.

Joe Wilkinson, with his full beard and longish hair, is sitting on a chair in the Taskmaster studio, scrolling his hand down in the air as he bows his head. As if to say, 'I thank you,' to the audience for their reaction, presumably.
Joe Wilkinson was the one
responsible for setting me off
FYI.
That's my attempt at throwing a bit of architecture into my cultural ramblings. (I could see buildings from my rooftop! They were stunning!) The past week has seen me mainly hoover up some telly. I mentioned on TikTok/Insta last Monday how I'd devoured Last One Laughing. I watched the UK version, which caused me to melt down in snotty, tearstained hysterical laughter whilst watching a riff on Stars in Their Eyes. I've also finished The White Lotus, which continues to widen my eyes in shock at the shenanigans onscreen. Next up, I think I'm probably going to try Severance. I hear good things. 

 
A bar top in a restaurant. There's a slim drinks menu on the left, and on the right is a chunky frosted tankard full of beer.
I'm a big fan of The Ivy's
half pint tankards
straight from the fridge.
Food and Drink
I have a vague guiding principle when I'm choosing from a menu. I like to order something I can't make at home. Can't or won't, to be fair. At a recent friend's birthday meal, I got to pick a double whammy when I chose a cheese soufflé to start and then lobster linguine for my main. Neither of those beautiful meals will ever be attempted by me in my kitchen. Thanks to The Ivy for sorting me out. 

Beany soup with feta, paprika, 
onion, garlic, and Vegemite.
Back at home, however, I buzz off making things that are a little less classy. Take this soup, for instance. In a frying pan, I sweated down some onion and garlic, then added a can of beans. I went with cannellini. Once I'd cooked it for a bit, I added a dollop of Vegemite, some feta, and a couple of good shakes of paprika. Voila! A beany, tasty, soupy thing. It wasn't The Ivy, but it was bloody tasty.

My brother - a white, brunette man - is standing in front of a large house plant. He's holding a photo in a white frame. It's of a blue door, which is a turnstile at Goodison Park. He looks decidedly chuffed.
Dom with his
Goodison Park
turnstile photo. 
Out and About
London baby! Yep, Because my oldest brother turned the big 4-0, on Saturday my family congregated near his hood in Battersea for his birthday meal. And because I've been burning the candle at both ends recently, I added a couple of days onto the trip, and recuperated with a comfy hotel bed and all my stretchiest clothes. It was glorious.

As this post drops, I'll be on my way home. Back up north, and back to my much-needed routine. It's time to set the morning alarm once more, and bring back some sense to proceedings. That must be doable, surely? 

Have a lovely week, folks.

Monday, 7 April 2025

♫...Old Nick Bond, Wrote a Book, AI, AI, Ohhh... ♫

I'm definitely not a technophobe. No way! I was the first person I knew to get a smart phone. I regularly eschew a staffed checkout for a self-service, preferring my own thoughts to the pained small talk some cashiers feel the need to offer. And then there're the apps. I can turn on my heating, defrost the car, or search for directions before I leave the house. Technology? All over it, mate. 

An animation of the cartoon character Inspector Gadget in a grey Mac and hat, scratching his chin with a gloved hand on a spring that's popped out of his hat.
Just call me Inspector Gadget
But what I continue to be, I like to think, is discerning. Look, I'm no Maggie Philbin or Judith Hann. I'm just an everyday person navigating the world. I don't need the blingiest, most space-age gadgets for every given task. Nope, I try to look at a new technological advance on offer and make a decision. Is this actually better than what's gone before? It's great when something comes along that makes life easier. But here's the rub. It must be easier AND better. Not easier and crapper. That's a rubbish pay off. Who wants ease when the end result is shite?

Why is this on my mind right now? Well, it's because of the current discourse surrounding artificial intelligence. Look, I know the score. We've been using AI for years. Without realising it, most of the time. This article is from 2019. I deliberately found something from a while back, to show how people have been climbing aboard the AI train without much thought. Me too, natch. And you know what? Fair play! Having my Hotmail account (mostly) spot the spam and send it straight to Junk, is good. It makes my life better, not having to wade through gross crap from bots and pervs. Carry on! 

Likewise, I'm pretty reliant on my SatNav. Because of a missed update, I recently learnt the hard way what it's like to follow directions in an unknown town towards a closed road. Arghhh! I managed not to stop dead at the red closure sign and cause a pile up. Instead I turned off at the next open road, drove around in a flap for a bit, before finding somewhere to stop and have a think. Bring back my AI updated satnav! I need it! 

And when someone has purchased one of my books in the past, and then Amazon suggests my latest one to them while they're looking for something else, I'm grateful! I have many beefs with Amazon, but not that. That makes my life easier and better! Hurrah.

But back to the topic in hand. I said there'd been a load of AI discourse lately, and there has. I see it in publishing chat, a lot. Because whilst there are some decent ways we can use AI and not feel like we're compromising on something fundamentally good, it's not always the case.

Lisa Simpson is crossing her arms across her chest and looking outraged as she says, 'I'll die before I misspell.'
Take spell check. If you're terrible at spelling and grammar, you'll probably love it. You'll cling to it at the end of something you've had to write, changing every highlighted error. But for those that are pretty handy with their written communication, it's clear that spell check makes mistakes. It doesn't get context. It misidentifies English spellings as incorrect, or flags up deliberately chosen dialect or slang. I rarely use it. 

Or, you know when you're typing an email and your computer tries to guess the end of the sentence and offers the next few words? Urgh! Only if I were writing in obvious cliches would that be any use to me. Or predictive text? It's often wrong. Or when I Google something and have to scroll past the AI overview first. Why would I want an AI overview? Where's it come from? What sites has it used? Why is it slowing me down while I check I'm getting information from a trusted source. To rely on AI for all of that, feels like we're throwing our hands up in the air and saying, 'Quality be damned!' 

I was talking about this to a mate recently. She'd started to use ChatGPT for work - to get ideas for presentations to clients while she wrote them. It posed a question. (Full disclosure: I can't remember if I asked it. Wine had been taken. ) The question was, 'Why would she think an AI program would give her a better result than her own brain? Or her selected trusted sources that humans had written? When AI is comprised of pulling generic stuff from a load of random, unchecked places, why would a mishmash of derivative information be better than what she could produce herself? Particularly when she knows the specific needs of her client base. I think I know the answer. It's because it's quicker. It cuts a corner but gives her more time for the rest of her job. And I guess that makes sense. I can see why that would be good when your day is comprised of a million other things. 

But it's not that simple for everyone. When your entire job is the artistic creation of chapters, verses, or scripts, perhaps the ability for someone to generate a bland and basic facsimile of your content is NOT the way forward. This is the issue that the publishing industry is grappling with at the moment.* How can we protect creative professionals and their intellectual property, in the face of the rise of AI? That's the question currently being debated between anyone linked to publishing. I'm sure other areas of the arts are having similar convos.

That's not all though. A recent Atlantic article broke how Meta (that's Facebook and Insta and whatnot) have been using published authors' work to train their AI engine. No one had been informed about it before the fact. No one had been paid for their work. It is only possible to check if your content had been stolen by using the handy search tool in the article. So far, mine has not. But many authors - both traditionally and self-published - have had their copyrighted work ripped off to train Meta's AI tools. 

An animated cartoon Shakespeare head. He's got the receding hairline, the white ruff, and is crying.
A weeping Shakespeare 
laments his lack of copyright.
Take William Shakespeare. He's had his plays used for AI training. Having died well over seventy years ago, his copyright expired a while back.** But let's use the example to see where it leads. Say you want to write a Shakespeare-style scene for, oh I don't know, a comedy sketch? Or a school project? You could ask the AI engine to write you something Shakespeare-esque, involving a skull, or a quill, or even a wheelie bin. It'll pull from a variety of sources, most notably Shakespeare's own stuff, and it'll churn out something 'in the style of.' The result would probably be amusing. Perhaps Shakespearian-sounding in places. But it would definitely be clunky, include small amounts of gibberish, and be a pale imitation of the real thing.*** And you know what? That's fine. It's Shakespeare. His canon is established. His work is in the public domain and has been forever. No one needs to worry about Shakespeare getting ripped off or devalued. 

But consider the same process for an author who isn't so established. Their writing style can - on the surface of it - be quasi-replicated easily and cheaply. That means their work becomes devalued, and their career adversely affected. When you're trying to make a living - or more realistically, trying to fund the odd night out here and there - knowing that something can ape your style whilst being less accomplished in its delivery, really sucks. Plus, it's stealing. That's supposed to be illegal.

The UK Government recently had a consultation period about AI. Their AI playbook released in February, gives the impression they're quite keen on its possibilities. The Society of Authors held a protest last week. Targeting Meta, they focused on the illegality of intellectual property theft. The Writers' Guild have likewise been advising their members how to fight back in the face of their industry being swallowed up without much thought. Indeed, my own Government consultation response, that I wrote based on the notes from ALCS, focused on the need for exemptions for copyrighted work. It seems that whilst people are on board with making life easier and processes quicker, they're not thinking about the effects on culture. 

We all access culture. We all devour the products of creativity. Most of us chill out at the end of the day with a binge-watch. (I've recently hoovered up The Residence on Netflix. It was a whimsical delight!) Viewing the pitch from a purely writing perspective, we know how much society absorbs written stories. Whether it's books, films, or soap operas, we're obsessed with the lives of others. Hey, take the film, The Lives Of Others. Would an AI engine create the beautifully nuanced story of one man's journey from a cold rule-based Stasi officer, to someone who learns the value of poetry and expands his inner world, all whilst visibly remaining the downtrodden automaton he's always been? There's no way! The churned out script would be stereotypical fluff. It'd be heavy handed and dull. It might be quicker than writing a film from scratch, but it would be far crapper by comparison. 

An illustrated pencil drawing of a hand, holding a pencil, tapping it in frustration in front of a blank page.
Creating. Takes. Time.
Besides, who says the creative process should be quick? Who thinks it should be easy? It's SUPPOSED to be a slog. It's the blood, sweat, and tears of the creator that over time, make it a thing of beauty; a compelling and absorbing use of your time. It's not meant to be done in a flash and onto the next thing. If it were easy, its value would plummet. 'Quality be damned!' I type, for the second time this post.

All this is to say, that while I'll still watch films that an algorithm has suggested, or use my satnav whenever I'm in a new place, I plan to keep a discerning eye on new tech as it pops up. Does this technology make my life easier AND better? It's got to be two for two. Anything else can be swerved. 

In terms of my books, I'm committed to refusing to use AI in my writing. Why would I? My brain created Leeza McAuliffe and that's where I'll go for her subsequent exploits. Likewise, my front covers are created by a human artist. Gary is his name. He's boss. Could I create something usable with AI tools? Maybe. Would I want to? NO! I want them to be brilliant. I want an artist and designer whose work adds value to my own. Not a quick and easy rip off of other people's intellectual property. It's as simple as that. So while the Government is looking at ways that AI can improve productivity and cut spending in Westminster, it needs to recognise that it's not that simple. Creative industries will be adversely affected if there are no restrictions and exemptions. And with that, the quality of the telly, novels, theatre, even the adverts we consume, will deteriorate. Like I said at the top, I'm no Maggie Philbin or Judith Hann, but I'm no technophobe either. Make my life easier AND better. That's the challenge. When it comes to creativity, I don't think it's something AI can ever hope to achieve.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*Interesting aside. As I typed this sentence, the predictive text element of Blogger wanted me to write '... This is the issue that the publishing industry is grappling with at the Monet.' Sheeeeesh.

**To be absolutely accurate, copyright law didn't exist in Shakespeare's time. But nowadays, copyrighted material becomes fair game for public use, seventy years after the death of the person that holds copyright. Every year there's a new batch of cultural output that  - for example - an author can quote in their own work without getting permission or paying for. This is why I used Ralph Waldo Emerson's writing as an opening quote in Carry the Beautiful. 

*** Here's an example of AI's limitations. A few weeks ago, you may remember, I wrote a eulogy for my laptop. While posting it on Bluesky, I chose a fabulous Gif to accompany my words. Joan Collins, as Alexis Carrington, is dressed to the nines in funereal black. She's wearing a hat with mesh veil over half her face, and she's tearfully standing at a graveside. In the three second gif, she looks down at the grave, has an emotional swoon, and then throws herself into the arms of a burly hunk standing behind. I chose the Gif so its camp comedy could accompany  my tongue-in-cheek writing. But! When I clicked to add the ALT text (the text that describes it for visually challenged readers) there was already an AI suggestion typed into the box. I could accept it, or type my own version over it. The suggestion AI had come up with was, 'A woman wearing a black hat with a veil over her face.' This is the most one-note, basic description of what was, in reality, some camp-as-tits, dramatic, visual hyperbole. Reader, you'll be pleased to know, I wrote over that suggestion with my own description.

Monday, 31 March 2025

Tough Guys, Melty Spuds, and Eerie Lights...

Well hello, April! You're almost here! 

An animated white cartoon dog is standing on its hind legs and dancing amid the spring flowers.
This week I've said, 'This year's flying by,' at least twice, and without irony. I know it's the kind of thing old people say. It's a cliched statement that's used for all sorts of meaningless situations when small talk is required. BUT IT'S STILL TRUE. 

It feels only two minutes since the January snow arrived just as my pipes were getting dug up. (Not a euphemism!) The new cess pit is working like a dream - thanks for asking - and I can't believe how often I can have a bath now. But all that was three months ago. Three months! And now Spring is well and truly here. The clocks have changed, the daylight lasts longer, and there were one or two days last week when I didn't wear a jumper. Can you believe it? We've turned a corner, folks.

So, let's sally forth and embrace the change. As you know, I dread the Summer. The heat, the sweat, the general stickiness of it all. But that's ages away. Spring is fresh and breezy! It's warm but cool! It's bright and beautiful! Let's enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

The front cover of the 1st Leeza McAuliffe Book. It's called Leeza McAuliffe Has Something To Say and is by me, Nicky Bond.
The 1st Leeza book
Writing News
It's time to start thinking about the next steps of the third Leeza McAuliffe book. I'm officially going back to it on Tuesday 15th April. My diary is clear from then on so that's when it'll be. So what will I be doing on the 15th April? Well, reading through the first draft. That's the first job. From start to finish, all in one go. It'll take the best part of the day, but it's the first step. 

That will flag up loads of issues. LOADS. There'll be too many to make sense of. I'll be bursting with so many thoughts that there'll be no room in my brain for them all. But as soon as I've finished reading the whole thing through, I'll open a new word doc and let every thought I've got explode onto the page. It'll be frenzied and garbled, and potentially make no sense. But it'll be the only thing to do at that stage.

And look, it's not my first rodeo. I know the kinds of things that'll stand out before I even read it back. They'll be the same as the four other times I've written a book. I'll spot that some of the ideas that jump out in the first chapter, fizzle out by the third. I'll notice that the middle section is saggy and dull. I'll also realise that the ending needs more oomph. But there'll be loads of other things too. Inconsistencies, characters that don't do much, or plot lines that need beefing up or cutting. I'll spot everything all at once and I'll make a list of it all. That will shape what I'll be doing in the next chunk of 2025.

Jack Reacher, a big tough guy, wearing a black t shirt and sitting in a diner, is drinking a cup of coffee.
Culture
I've just finished the 3rd season of Reacher on Amazon. I infinitely prefer the books but there's something wonderfully escapist about watching a big good guy beat up the big bad guys. And despite being generally pacifist at heart, I surprised myself by shouting, 'Shoot him in the dick,' at the telly when a would-be rapist was getting his comeuppance just before he attacked. In book news, I've just finished Janice Hallet's The Examiner. Properly gripping and much more reminiscent of her first novel, The Appeal, than her other books have been. Finally, The Flat Share is being repeated on Channel 5 right now but it's all there on Paramount if you want to catch up. It's sweet without being saccharine, and has been making me smile as I wind down each day. 

A white plate. On one side are three small cubes of potato cake, and next to that on the right is a dollop of beige coloured mayo. There's a spoonful of caviar on the top.
Exmoor caviar, confit
potatoes, and brown crab.
Food and Drink
Ooooh. Let me tell you about my birthday meal starter from last Monday. It was confit potatoes - all crispy on the outside and melty on the inside - with a crab mayo-y sauce and caviar on top. (The official title is under the picture.) You know when you can't stop thinking about something you've eaten, and you're craving it all the time, but you can never hope to replicate it yourself no matter how hard you try? Well, that. That's all I've thought of this week. If you want to see for yourself, the Dog and Collar on Hope Street will be able to sort you out. It's just opened and is utterly lovely.

The night's sky is coloured with turquoise, royal blue, and green tones, with smoke giving the sense of clouds. People are walking underneath, looking up, and soaking up the experience.
Borealis
Out and About
After the pub and the nicest starter I've ever had, I had a walk down to the docks. For the past week, the Borealis light installation has been in place at the Albert Dock. The effect is beautifully strange, with music and smoke adding to the feel of the whole thing. Despite being busy, there was no bustle. The eerie vibes slowed people right down, and gave a sense of calm as people wandered under the lights. A pretty cool way to end the evening, not going to lie.

So enjoy the first day of April tomorrow. Will you spot a daffodil? Eat a cream egg? Pat a newborn lamb? It's unlikely I'll do any of those things as I'll be busy indoors, but no matter. It's the thought that counts. Baaaaaaa.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Monday, 24 March 2025

Forty-Seven Trips Around the Sun...

*Taps mic* Hello... Hello? I just wanted to make a small announcement. 

Today is MY BIRTHDAY!!!!! Wooooohooooo!!!!!!
🎈🎂🥳🎉🙌🎁💃
Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestly is coming out of an elevator. As the door open, and she walks out, the back wall of the elevator has the words, It's My Birthday' in white.
I'll never understand the vibes that some adults give off; that they're not fussed about their birthday. It's the best! Even when I've spent the day on my own, had no plans, or been 'going through a rough patch', the anniversary of my birth is a lovely glimmer of light. It's the positive upside of the week. It's provides a Ready Brek glow all the day is long. And it's not about presents. It's not about getting stuff. It's the FEELING. 

A one year old me - with brown bowl head hair and wearing a white onesie, is siting in a highchair. She has a plastic bib around her neck and eating a piece of cake.
My first birthday cake.
The mood is nonchalant.
The past seven days were officially designated as My Birthday Week. The normal rules didn't apply; all bets were off. For example, I used my posh bubble bath more than once. I chose the best picky teas and had patatas bravas on a week night. I also rewatched the ten second video I've got from 2012, where my Grandma (who died later that year) wishes me a happy birthday. All the loveliest things. 

A short haired, serious looking me, is blowing out 9 candles on a chocolate cake. My mum has written 'Nicky's 9th b'day' on a sticker on the photo.
The brown decor suggests 
this was 1971 but no.
It was 1987.
So, whilst I'll carry on with the Weekly Update, be aware it's infused with more positivity, more self-care, and more Ready Brek glow than usual. What do you expect? It was MY BIRTHDAY WEEK after all. I've had a ball!

Writing News
I've done NOTHING. Ha. My empty head is happily enjoying the break. Whoop!

A long haired brunette White woman is sitting in a diner, with a burger in her hand that she's eating. She's talking to someone off camera, and says, 'I don't know' to their question.
Mikey Madison in Anora.
She was exceptional.
Culture News
I finally managed to see Anora - the film that won four Oscars last month. You know what? It's pretty good. I let it pass me by when it was originally released. To be fair, if it hadn't been lauded so much, I'd have continued to give it a swerve. It sounded too gritty and depressing on paper. Happily, on screen, it's funny and poignant, as well as sad and scary. All the feelings!

A large blue bowl, filled with patatas bravas, gherkins, olives, sun-dried tomatoes, artichokes, and cheese.
Food and Drink
Check out my birthday week picky tea. Isn't it beautiful? I also broke my no crisps in the house rule (because I'd eat them all if there was a stash) and so had the odd packet here and there. I also made a cake (for another household birthday - in MY week! Tsk) and there was no question. I went straight to my Queen, Nigella. Her chocolate and Guinness cake is utterly delicious and I could eat it forever. Something about the Guinness means the sickliness is dialled down so it's properly fit. And then finally, there was an Albert Schloss Sunday lunch yesterday. All tasty birthday fun!

Out and About
I did an overnight to London. I know! What a week I've had! For Christmas I'd got tickets to one of the Off Menu live shows. Hurrah! I didn't know who the guest was going to be, but I could listen to James Acaster and Ed Gamble riff with anyone. As it turned out, when I rocked up to the London Palladium, the secret guest was Rhod Gilbert! Whoop. An excellent evening was had by all. (It's my birthday so I feel I can speak for the entire audience.)

Me, current day, with brunette hair and a blonde fringe, looking at the camera with a Mona Lisa smile. (Probs) I've got large black rimmed glasses and am wearing a black top. It is, I am happy to say, a good hair day.
HELLO 47
So this is forty-seven. Isn't it a nondescript age? I remember the heady thrill of turning sixteen and knowing I could buy a cigs and a lottery ticket if I wanted. This time, it's more of the same. But isn't that marvellous! More of the same will suit me just fine. And even though my birthday week peaks today, and it's back to normal tomorrow, I'll ease back in slowly. I think the fancy bubble baths and the patatas bravas can hang around a little longer, don't you?

Have a lovely week, folks.

Monday, 17 March 2025

Happily Selfish...

Taken from Home Alone, Kevin, a blonde haired, caucasion eight year old boy, is jumping up and down in his house, clearly excited. The caption says, 'I'm living alone, I'm living alone!
Hello there. You find me returning to my usual routine after a few days of home alone fun. I've talked before about the joys of living alone. At least for me, it's SOOO good. (Other opinions are valid.) But having moved from a large family, to a big house share, to a cohabiting couple, I've never experienced the giddy thrill of being uncompromisingly selfish. It's the absolute best.

A dark bedroom. There are wardrobes, with a mirror and then above that, a sloping ceiling. There is a projection of the Disney + information for the film Free Guy.
The ceiling of dreams
Last week's period of wallowing, was shorter than usual. Relaxing into my own rhythms had to be truncated. I skipped the giddy and home improvement stages, and went straight to pampering and binge-watching. I also utilised a Christmas present that I bought my partner. He's shown little interest in it so I think it's fine. In December I gave him a projector that plays your streaming services onto a wall. This means the past week has seen me working through box sets, lying in bed, and looking up at Disney + on a sloping ceiling. It's been utter bliss and I feel rejuvenated!
 
Writing News
The writing break continues. It's important to be clear about this. This is a pre-determined, designated break with a clear end date. If I became wishy washy about this; if I were to be vague about when I'd be getting back to it, then that would be dangerous. I know several writers who regularly say they've not written for months. They can't get into it. They're not feeling it. They don't have the words. That's fair enough. Everyone's different and I have no intention of pushing my personal way of working onto anyone else. But I know one thing. If I gave myself an unspecified, open-ended break, with the plan to get back to my book when I felt like it, that day would never come. I know myself too well. So the break continues, but only for a few more weeks. Then it's back to the grind.

A male detective is crouching down at a crime scene. He's looking up at a woman, rocking a pushchair, wearing bright, casual clothing (ie not work clothes) who's looking on and responding to the detective.
High Potential
Culture
Let's talk about those box sets. They're all on Disney + because I couldn't be bothered logging the projector into any of the other streamers. So what did I binge in bed? Well, I finished Paradise. That's the strange yet compelling story that starts with a murdered president and ends up in a post-apocalyptic survivalist world. I also caught up with the rest of High Potential. That's the super-intelligent police consultant with unorthodox methods who outfoxes the police at every crime scene. 

Joshua Jackson is reclining on a sun lounger. He slowly takes off his sunglasses and looks at someone off camera. It's HOT.
Finally, there was a new series I started. Doctor Odyssey. This one's fun and frothy. If you have a soft spot for Pacey Witter (tbf, his name's Joshua Jackson and he stopped playing Pacey Witter in 2003) then this might be right up your street. Pacey  Joshua Jackson is Dr Max Bankman, the new doctor on a fancy cruise ship. It looks great, HE looks great, and the plots are fun. High drama it is not, but for those of us who want to support our famous teen peers in their adult endeavours, then you could do a lot worse.

A white plate. In the middle is a little bowl of garlic mayo. Around the mini bowl, there are different foods arranged. Sliced radish, cornichones, marinated artichoke, roasted peppers, sliced cheese, sliced cucumber, and olives. There's also another little bowl (brown) with some chunks of crusty bread.
Food and Drink
I don't eat as much when I live alone. Fact. I also eat more healthily. There must be studies about why this is, right? For most of last week, I arranged pickles, marinated veggies, and slices of cheese on a plate. Then I went upstairs, fired up the Disney + ceiling, and ate with my fingers in bed. The dishwasher was barely used, I didn't fill a binbag, and I was more relaxed than usual. The downside? There's a good possibility that some garlic infused olive oil may have dripped onto the duvet. With every silver lining there's a cloud.

Out and About
Despite my semi-feral state, I did shower, brush my teeth, and leave the house. How could I not? Hibernation's over, remember? There was Wednesday brunch, my fortnightly writing group, a Costa meeting, and a hair cut. It's good to be out and about in the world when your home life has become a boxset in bed experience. 

Have a lovely week, folks.