tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31289910256947197952024-03-14T10:06:24.320+00:00The Perfect MixtapeAll my spare thoughts.ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.comBlogger686125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-18891923707494881222021-07-28T16:35:00.003+01:002021-07-28T16:36:27.503+01:00Been a minute.<p> Oh, hi there, stranger! How are you? What have you been up to?</p><p>I've been dog-wrangling. Being cosy. Cooking a lot. Re-learning to drive again after a ten-year hiatus (terrifying, tbh). Listening to Self Esteem. Also a bit of Stevie Nicks, who I never used to rate particularly highly but have lately been in the mood for. I went to Hastings.</p><p>Like everyone, obsessed with this song.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Mtd_jlV61mA" width="320" youtube-src-id="Mtd_jlV61mA"></iframe></div><br /><p>I wrote, like, half a book and abandoned it because it was really depressing and awful. Then I wrote another really weird but really fun book in a ridiculous record time and... we'll see.</p><p>I'm halfway through training to be a therapist now. I do a weekly shift on a women's domestic violence helpline, which has unexpectedly become a highlight of my week.</p><p>I've been doing a lot of YouTube workout videos and this is my favourite.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3kFKsp436KQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="3kFKsp436KQ"></iframe></div><br /><p>I read Sorrow + Bliss and, like everyone, am a bit obsessed. It's been a long long time since a book has made me cry that much.</p><p>My dog is lovely. I am over two years sober. I turned fucking forty. I just got my first post-lockdown haircut and it's very 70s. My friend tattooed me at her kitchen table and then I went on the trampoline with her kids and then we all went to the pub for chips.</p>ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-36755598052108634532020-12-02T20:29:00.006+00:002020-12-02T20:29:49.968+00:00Dog Days<p> I have a dog. This is a sentence I never thought I would be able to write. I was never in one place enough. I have a terrible fear of commitment! That sort of grown-up thing is for 'other' people.</p><p>I have a dog. It blows my mind a bit. Nobody and nothing has ever really relied on me in that way before. Sometimes I look at her and she seems so little and helpless. It's lovely and it's awful.</p><p>I feel a bit behind other people, sometimes. Like, when everyone else was growing up, I was drunk and having terrible relationships I didn't even realise were terrible. I thought I was really grown-up when I was about twenty-five. I didn't realise what a fucking joke that was. I've spent the years since unpicking how very wrong I was.</p><p>Some of my friends got pets when we were in our twenties. That seemed unbelievable to me at the time and even more so to me now. Like my friend Susie, who bombs around in a van and takes her dog everywhere and has this amazing air of capability and an assumption that it'll all work out fine. Incredible. How the fuck do they do it?</p><p>I have had a dog for one month and four days and I regularly cry because it's so overwhelming. I realise I don't think I could have done this at any point in my life before now. Especially at the times when I thought I definitely would have been able to. I was an idiot.</p><p>I have to remind myself often that it's OK to do things at your own pace. It's OK to do things differently to other people. It's all OK. Sometimes I even believe it.</p><p>I am so happy that I have a dog now. We are still getting to know each other but I love her a lot.</p><p>Which is good, because she takes up most of my time at the moment. I have a half-written book that is currently remaining that way. I am behind on my homework. I haven't done any exercise since I got her and I can't wait to get back to it. I kind of want her to stay a baby forever but I also can't wait until I can actually take my eyes off her without her chewing my wooden floor/record player/sofa to shreds.</p><p>In the (very) brief windows between dog wrangling, it's currently the perfect time of year to:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>listen to White Chalk by PJ Harvey in the bath</li><li>rewatch Gilmore Girls</li><li>read the new book by Charlotte Duckworth</li><li>eat veggie shepherd's pie.</li></ul><p></p>ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-92225078297181279742020-08-25T15:36:00.003+01:002020-08-25T15:36:41.577+01:00Bookish Things<p> I didn't read at all at the beginning of lockdown. Couldn't concentrate on a book at all, which was a shame as it's my favourite thing to do.</p><p>I am pleased to report that since then I have read some EXCELLENT books and highly recommend all of them:</p><p>PRETENDING by Holly Bourne</p><p>QUEENIE by Candice Carty-Williams</p><p>HUNGER by Roxane Gay</p><p>SUCH A FUN AGE by Kiley Reid</p><p>THE ART OF GETTING LOST by Rebecca Solnit</p><p>At the end of the week, I am planning a payday new book extravaganza. Please let me know on Instagram/Twitter if you have recommendations!</p><p>When not reading, I have also been bouncing on my trampoline, cooking, going on my favourite new secret forest walk, meditating and making jam from graveyard blackberries.</p><p>I watched a whole crazy soap opera (three series!) about cage fighters in Venice Beach and now I am strangely sad it's over.</p><p>I miss holidays.</p><p>Oh, and I was a guest on the <a href="https://www.cosmopolitan.com/uk/love-sex/a30622355/podcast-all-the-way-with-cosmopolitan/">Cosmo 'All The Way With' sex podcast</a>, which was super fun! I felt like a pound-shop Carrie Bradshaw (jk, Carrie was awful!!!). <a href="https://i-d.vice.com/en_uk/article/ne4nk7/woke-charlotte-sex-and-the-city">Woke Charlotte</a> 4 ever.</p>ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-24857673926676022662020-07-07T15:20:00.002+01:002020-07-07T15:20:36.697+01:00Lockdown livingIt's been so long! I'm still mostly indoors (although this morning I took my flask of coffee and my freshly baked pains aux chocolat to the park with my friend who lives down the road). We sat at opposite ends of a picnic blanket in the walled garden. It was wonderful.<br />
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I have a mini trampoline and I am obsessed. OBSESSED.<br />
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I turned one year sober and I had a birthday!<br />
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I've been working really hard and I am grateful.<br />
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I painted my stairs bright pink and decorated my bedroom.<br />
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My podcast is now on Apple! Look up 'The Staunch Podcast' and please leave a nice review.<br />
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Incidentally, if you have read my book and want to do a nice thing for me, please leave a quick review of it online somewhere. It can just say 'this book is good'. The number of reviews really, really helps, more than it saying anything useful or exciting. Something to do with algorithms.<br />
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Having not read a book in the longest time, I have inhaled a couple of books in quick succession: Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid and Hunger by Roxane Gay. Highly, highly recommend both.<br />
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But not as much as I recommend spending half an hour a day on a mini trampoline listening to a bad 90s playlist you have titled 'Gypsies, Trampolines and Thieves'.<br />
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My music tastes have become those of a middle-aged man. Been listening to a lot of Don Henley. Hmm.<br />
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I have taken up gua sha.<br />
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I have been writing just a very tiny little bit.<br />
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Tonight I will make two types of curry.<br />
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And... I think that's all for now.ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-39859817431118987512020-04-21T17:11:00.001+01:002020-04-21T17:11:20.412+01:00Dance memoryYears ago, I spent a year living in a tiny top-floor flat, with a view of treetops from the sitting room window and a very distant view of the sea from the fire escape out the back. The miniature galley kitchen in that flat reminded me of Paris. The sun came in through the window in the afternoons and the ancient cabinets were trimmed in bright egg-yolk yellow. That kitchen was so tiny, the fridge had to be kept out in the hallway at the top of the stairs.<br />
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The year in that flat coincided with my temporary obsession with Tracy Anderson. This sounds strange and felt out of character. Tracy Anderson is Gwyneth Paltrow's personal trainer and I am not at all sure that we would be friends in real life (who knows, though?!). She looks like an Olsen twin, or a small woodland creature in very tiny outfits. She says cheerful motivational things - 'Let's have fun! I'm so proud of you!' - in a very flat monotone. There is something very corporate, maybe even robotic, about her. She talks in pseudoscience and fetishises being 'tiny' and 'the dancer's body'.<br />
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For some reason, I bought all of her DVDs. In that flat, I did them diligently every single evening.<br />
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There is something about Tracy Anderson that I find incredibly relaxing. All of the movements are very repetitive, to the point of being boring. Her choreographed dances seem to have no logic to them whatsoever. Some of the movements are so insane, she reminds me of Kate Bush, even though she is the exact opposite of Kate Bush.<br />
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All of her workouts are set to bland electronic music that just fades into the background. I discovered that this could easily be muted and replaced with Sonic Youth. There is something about this combination that works perfectly.<br />
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Whenever I hear Lee Ranaldo's solo album 'Between the Times and the Tides', I am instantly transported back to that flat, doing Tracy Anderson dance moves for hours on end on the nasty brown rental-flat carpet, with a view of the trees. Incidentally, Lee Ranaldo was really the underrated member of Sonic Youth.<br />
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I've been spending a lot of my lockdown time exercising. Physical movement is currently helpful.<br />
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I find repetitive motion very comforting, so I suppose it's natural that I looked up Tracy on YouTube. It's almost like meditating, maybe because I've done it so many times now. Just add the Sonic Youth member of your choice.<br />
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<br />ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-88840232883338063922020-04-17T23:36:00.002+01:002020-04-17T23:36:57.381+01:00313<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
As I start writing this, I am 313 days sober. That’s 10 and a bit months. That’s nearly a year. I did not anticipate this. It’s the longest (by a very, very long way) I have been without drinking since I was 14 years old. Actually, I talked to my dad about this the other day, and he thinks it might have been 12 or 13. He might be right.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Originally, I was aiming for 100 days. Then I kept going. I’m currently aiming for the full year. I am still learning new and surprising things about myself and my old relationship with drinking, so – at least until that stops, and maybe beyond – it seems a good idea to keep going.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I wonder if lots of people are accidentally sober at the moment, as usually they only drink when they go out and see people. I am very deliberately sober. A lot of the time, now, I don’t think about it. Then, suddenly, I am hit round the face with a sense-memory: a cold glass of white wine with lunch, a delicious glass of red wine by a fire, a French 75, an icy margarita, a late-night whisky, champagne when it’s free. It passes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Incidentally, I love(d) free booze more than almost anything in the world. The things I find hardest are still a) catered events; b) long-haul flights. I always joked that the classiest thing in the world would be to go on a business-class flight and not drink the free booze. I guess I’m classy now.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, I most definitely did not only drink when I went out and saw people. I loved drinking alone almost more than I loved drinking with friends. I loved all kinds of drinking. I was known for it. I was the person who you would call if you were in the mood to get drunk on a Tuesday. I was the one who would always be guaranteed to say ‘let’s get another bottle’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I do miss it. But I’m better without it, these days. I’m glad not to be hungover. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s good to keep assessing what you miss and what you don’t. Sometimes it changes. Sometimes it’s surprising.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A few weeks before the lockdown started, I realised I was exhausted and I simultaneously realised how much time I used to spend horizontal and unproductive because I was hungover. I would get home from work, get straight into bed, and order enough takeaway food for at least two people. Then I would fall asleep with a film still playing on my laptop. If it was a Saturday, I might only get up in the evening to cook a mixing bowl full of pasta. I do not miss hangovers, but I kind of miss those days. I’m always so upright and productive now. Sounds perverse, which is probably why it took me a while to figure it out. There is something about a hangover that makes you treat yourself as you would a child, because you can only deal with an immediate and very base level of need. ‘Am I hungry? Might I like to get up and have a bath?’ I resolved to recreate those days occasionally, even though I no longer need to.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sometimes you miss things you shouldn’t miss. Like hangovers. And having an excuse for poor behaviour or an irrational outburst (‘I was just sooooo drunk!’). But mostly, I don’t miss a thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I received a message yesterday, out of the blue, from someone I have not seen in a long time. Someone I used to miss a lot. Someone who I associate more than almost anyone else with days and nights of drinking – pink cocktails and white wine and pints of Asahi and even bright green absinthe. Secret boozy lunches, impromptu evenings, missed trains, hungover breakfasts. Never, ever sober.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Admittedly, in my life, this could be quite a few people. But this was the one I once enjoyed drunken arguments and poor decision-making with the very most.<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘I miss you,’ it said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I used to miss this person so, so much. But when somebody offers you a plate of crumbs and tells you it’s a goddamn feast, you change your phone number and you move on.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about the past, but it sometimes occurs to me that I do things very differently now. This is not a coincidence.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I gave up smoking. I cut all my hair off. I went back to school. I gave up drinking.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I feel like a different person now.<o:p></o:p></div>
ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-13136142495488040112020-04-15T14:53:00.002+01:002020-04-15T14:53:39.897+01:00Things<br />
<ul>
<li>You can eat dandelions!</li>
<li>I am obsessed with attic conversions</li>
<li>The Ordinary has actually improved my skin - acid is exciting</li>
<li>I love being basic now</li>
<li>I think I need to talk to my therapist about my feelings for Don Draper</li>
<li>I wonder if the actors who play Don and Joan look as sexy in ordinary modern clothes</li>
<li>I want a pink boiler suit</li>
<li>I know this sounds self-centred but it's so mind-blowing to think that all the world is still out there!</li>
<li>Peanut butter noodles</li>
<li>Homemade kimchi on everything</li>
<li>The light on the walls at times when you are usually never at home</li>
<li>Please leave a nice review of my book somewhere if you can</li>
<li>I am looking forward to moving meditation with music at 6pm today (currently keen on any kind of livestream situation)</li>
<li>Jet was the best Gladiator</li>
<li>I'd really like to be commissioned to write things I would never have thought of writing</li>
<li>The roses are starting to bud in the front window</li>
<li>At lunchtimes, my kitchen is now officially called the Moon Dust Diner</li>
<li>Set up a tent in the sitting room for a holiday at home!</li>
<li>I keep thinking a lot lately that what is meant for you will not pass you by</li>
<li>I'd like to adapt a book for the screen (any screen)</li>
<li>It's hard to knit when the weather is getting warmer</li>
<li>Five minutes outside makes a (lucky) difference</li>
<li>Oreos are accidentally vegan</li>
<li>So is most ready-made pastry - information that, to me, has been nothing short of life-changing</li>
</ul>
ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-23153644849057938982020-04-14T12:39:00.000+01:002020-04-14T12:39:04.580+01:00Isolation activities.Isolation continues. Cosy, scary, sleepy, confusing. I have to admit it's nice to have time on my hands. I realise this is a huge privilege.<br />
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I really, really like jam now. I used to think jam was only OK. Apricot is my favourite, but I have now finished the apricot and the blackcurrant is also good.<br />
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I am obsessed with <a href="https://www.pinterest.co.uk/helloecw/">Pinterest and all the decorating ideas I have 'for when this is all over'</a>. For some reason, there is currently something comforting about visual fripperies. Especially when I am seemingly incapable even of reading a book at the moment.<br />
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I am going to paint my stairs pink. I am going to paint a dull wall bright purple. I am going to go to junk shops and poke about all day long and buy things and paint them. I want to start painting wooden wardrobes and shelves.<br />
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The light is nice in corners of my house, at times when I would never usually be there. I feel there is something important to be learned from this.<br />
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I have come to the conclusion that gxd has been saving Mad Men up for me at this time. I am obsessed. I dream about it at night and cannot wait for every next episode. Oh, Don Draper. My heart. Oh, also the styling. And everything.<br />
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Oh, and I did a podcast! I know that's the last sentence anyone needs to utter, now or at any time, quite frankly. But I promise it's not just me talking. It's not a 'haha, me and my friends are so funny, people would LOVE to listen to us just chat!' type podcast. Because there are more than enough of those, thank you very much.<br />
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<a href="https://anchor.fm/eleanor-wood">The STAUNCH Podcast</a> basically consists of interviews with interesting people who are far older and wiser than I am. Featuring stories and life advice and general chat. It was such an enriching experience that I am very grateful for. I honestly think it's a very comforting and reassuring listen. Available now on Anchor and Spotify (other platforms forthcoming), if you'd like to. Let me know what you think!ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-54904561563593830122020-04-03T16:25:00.000+01:002020-04-03T16:25:20.605+01:00Lessons in IsolationNobody really needs another hot take on this. But I like to write things down and remember them.<br />
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My cancelled book launch seems a long time ago now. However, the book is obviously still available and is the ideal <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Staunch-Eleanor-Wood-ebook/dp/B07WSHSNK7/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=">ebook</a> or <a href="https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Staunch-Audiobook/0008325715?qid=1585924424&sr=1-1&ref=a_search_c3_lProduct_1_1&pf_rd_p=c6e316b8-14da-418d-8f91-b3cad83c5183&pf_rd_r=YVJSD3NZ258V81JQR092">audio</a> choice at the moment (Cosmo says so, calling it 'a fun and uplifting memoir')! You can also still <a href="https://thefeministbookshop.com/products/staunch-signed-edition-pre-order-now-for-release-thur-19-march?_pos=1&_sid=11f626e27&_ss=r">order via my friends at The Feminist Bookshop</a> if you want to help out a small business.<br />
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I am mostly feeling very zen, very lucky and like 'normal' life is now a dim and distant memory.<br />
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My attention span seems to be shot and I can barely read. In a way it's quite relaxing. My main leisure pastime at the moment is <a href="http://intothegloss.com/">reading about other people's beauty routines</a>.<br />
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Relatedly, I am trying to make isolation feel like a luxe experience, so have developed an elaborate skincare routine and dragged all sorts of treats out from the back of the cupboard (foot exfoliators! pore strips! sparkly nail varnishes!).<br />
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I am enjoying the communal feeling of live-streamed events, whether dance classes or gigs. There is something comforting about knowing things are happening in real time.<br />
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I now do Joe Wicks PE lesson every morning.<br />
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There are tulips coming out in the pots on my little patio. I also do skipping on the patio. This makes me feel very lucky.<br />
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I have eaten kitcheree (my nan's old recipe) for my last three meals. I'm pretty happy about this.<br />
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I am fantasising about getting all the tattoos when I get out of here, getting my nails done (which I have done maybe twice in my entire life thus far), going on day trips to Hastings and poking through junk shops.<br />
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I will almost definitely succumb to the questionable box dye I found in the bathroom cupboard.<br />
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I do not think I will have a new book written by the end of this, despite initial optimism.ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-46131626207799833432020-03-10T16:19:00.004+00:002020-03-10T16:19:48.842+00:00A few bits about people who are not me.The Reverend Richard Coles is truly one of the nicest people I have ever had the pleasure to meet. He was exactly how you would expect/hope him to be. He radiates kindness and warmth, and he is just as interested in people, whether the microphones are switched on or not. <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2020/mar/09/rev-richard-coles-on-losing-his-partner-davidmy-life-is-not-over-but-it-feels-like-it-is-sometimes">This wonderful article</a> really captures a bit of that.<br />
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I also recently had the pleasure of chatting to Sally Howard, and I cannot wait to read <a href="https://www.hive.co.uk/Product/Sally-Author-Howard/The-Home-Stretch--Why-Its-Time-to-Come-Clean-About-Who-Does-the-Dishes/24539775">her new book</a>. It's all about how women in co-habiting heterosexual relationships STILL do the vast majority of the housework, even in partnerships where both partners identify as feminist. Relevant to my interests (and, curiously, to a degree I don't usually admit in public), tbh.<br />
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If you're preparing for self-isolation, I would do so by <a href="https://www.hive.co.uk/Product/Holly-Bourne/Pretending--The-brilliant-new-adult-novel-from-Holly-Bour/24115687">pre-ordering the new book from living legend Holly Bourne</a>.<br />
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I'm now embarrassed to admit that I used to be addicted to the Daily Mail sidebar of shame. I haven't looked at it in years now, and my life is much better for it. I'm still surprised when I see friends, colleagues and fellow commuters looking at it, even now when we know the Daily Mail is basically evil, but I do understand we have to get our gossip somewhere. I definitely do. I recommend <a href="https://www.laineygossip.com/">Lainey Gossip</a> as an ethical way of getting your fix if you are so inclined.<br />
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I've unexpectedly become interested in Christian rock (long story) and, particularly, in the singular and unapologetic eccentricities of Joshua S. Porter. <a href="https://www.jesusfreakhideout.com/books/TheJokeThatWePlayOnTheWorld.asp">This book</a> is not my usual sort of thing but it is fun and interesting.<br />
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<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2019/jul/14/only-you-review-harry-wootliff-laia-costa-josh-oconnor-mark-kermode">This</a> is the best film I've seen lately, recommended by my friend Jess. Both of the main actors are great in it, but I was particularly struck by the character of Jake, who seemed like a real-life person I would go out with. He was sensitive and sexy in a goofy way. It made me think about how rare this is to see on film.<br />
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I'm a bit obsessed with <a href="https://www.stylist.co.uk/people/cash-carraway-author-interview-sex-worker-homeless-poverty-memoir/299119">Cash Carraway</a>. Her brilliant memoir is now out in paperback and you should definitely buy it.<br />
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Oh and, because I'm pretty self-absorbed during this final run-up to publication, <a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/life/going-travelling-nan-helped-get-break-up/">this</a> was in the Telegraph at the weekend.<br />
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Finally, I wrote an essay for my evening class that ended up (unexpectedly) being about this current 'be kind' trend. It's clearly well-intentioned, but feels so hollow and useless. We all already think we are kind; we need to examine our own prejudices and beliefs about who <i>deserves </i>our kindness. We need to think about a much more nuanced understanding of empathy. A few days after I handed it in, Eva Wiseman (incidentally, one of my very favourite journalists), <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2020/mar/08/its-true-we-should-be-kinder-but-its-much-harder-than-that">tackled the same subject</a> much better than I could.ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-78793611747728830402020-02-28T14:55:00.001+00:002020-02-28T14:55:42.791+00:00What we do.It's been so long since I have written anything here! However - just for myself - I would like to keep this little diary going.<div>
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Since I last checked in, I spent Christmas in Iceland, which was delightful. 2020 has begun in a way that I cannot believe. I keep consciously reminding myself to make the most of it, to enjoy it.</div>
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STAUNCH comes out in hardback and audiobook on 19th March. If you are considering reading it at any point, preordering it is a MASSIVE help to writers and I will be eternally grateful (thank you). It's available from all the usual places, but <a href="https://www.hive.co.uk/Product/Eleanor-Wood/Staunch/24070660">I like to buy books from Hive</a> if ordering online.</div>
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I spent two days in a small room in Kilburn with a view of a graveyard, recording the audiobook. I was really nervous and thought reading my weird book out loud in its entirety might feel really uncomfortable. In fact, it was a very positive, fun and quite cathartic experience. This was mostly down to Jack Beattie, the producer, who was a joy and to whom I am very grateful. If the idea of hearing my actual voice for 6 hours and 43 minutes is remotely appealing, <a href="https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Staunch-Audiobook/0008325715?qid=1582559865&sr=1-1&pf_rd_p=c6e316b8-14da-418d-8f91-b3cad83c5183&pf_rd_r=E84NNZTJY573GFJMMDS4&ref=a_search_c3_lProduct_1_1">the audiobook is also available to preorder</a>!</div>
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After that, I went straight to the Roundhouse (where, ridiculously, I had never actually set foot inside before - it's such a lovely venue). To see California's finest beach goths, The Growlers. That was really fun.</div>
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From there, I went pretty much straight to the BBC, where (in a real 'what even is this crazy wonderful life?' experience) I was a guest on Radio 4 Saturday Live! I was interviewed about STAUNCH by the lovely Reverend Richard Coles, who was just as delightful in person as you would hope. He is just as interested in people whether the microphones are on or not. I was a guest alongside some really cool people: Zawe Ashton, Amit Patel (and Kika, who made the whole experience extra fun) and a guy called Bob who lives off-grid in a converted bus and kept trying to sneak off to smoke. It was awesome. You can listen on catch-up <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000fn8r?fbclid=IwAR1dOQLEr-yTModFSsuYvtbf_VeYqJSFDEbrgKgfhHOMAwWpE-4oJzGlZ60">here</a>!</div>
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After that, I went home for a very long sleep. Having had an early morning at the BBC and a lot of coffee, I was home by lunchtime, which felt very surreal!</div>
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I ate vegan pancakes on pancake day (the most wonderful time of the year). I did yoga every single day in January.</div>
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I am now gearing up for publication time. I am having a launch party at <a href="https://thefeministbookshop.com/">The Feminist Bookshop</a> (the place of dreams) on publication day. There will be (vegan) cake (and vegan gluten-free brownies).</div>
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I am still not drinking, almost nine months now. I am in phase 2 of my evening classes.</div>
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I have a piece in Red magazine this month (April), as part of their 'family' issue. A bit of another dream come true, really - it's such a lovely magazine with great writers.</div>
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With a bit of luck in the current climate, I will be going to Abu Dhabi next week. Then back just in time to launch my book into the world.</div>
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I'm booking future holidays, as I might feel depressed when the book is out there and that's it (but I'm not sure I will, this time). I think the key to happiness is having things to look forward to. I know I am very, very lucky to be able to live like this. I haven't always been able to and I appreciate it. As someone who is so focused on the future, these days I also make an effort just to be happy in a quiet moment. It's amazing how much the ordinary can delight me these days. Coffee, cats, a book, clean bedding, gratitude every morning. Again, it hasn't always been so. I am very, very lucky.</div>
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ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-7208811087112481892019-12-02T11:33:00.002+00:002019-12-02T11:33:47.290+00:00The first Sunday in DecemberYesterday was Christmas tree day. I'm not a big fan of Christmas - being a chronically anxious child of divorce who may or may not have a drinking problem, it's not the best time for me. However, I love Christmas tree day.<div>
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This is a new thing for me. Until two years ago, I never had a Christmas tree of my own. What was the point? Well.</div>
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It's such a frivolous thing, but two years ago - when I decided to bother getting a Christmas tree for 'just me' - this represented a genuine shift in my attitude towards myself. I have an unexpectedly frugal streak, bordering on the puritanical (my parents both remain baffled by where this could have come from) and would sit in the cold and dark eating baked beans from a can (to 'save on washing up') if it were 'just me'. I'd lived in my house for years by that point and never once had a Christmas tree there. For years before that, I'd lived with an ex where we both agreed it was better just not to bother - which in retrospect speaks such sad, sad volumes.</div>
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But on the first Sunday in December two years ago, my friend Katherine and I went out together and each bought a small Christmas tree, bringing them back with much hilarity in a large taxi with an impatient driver. I was single, living alone, and I loved every minute of decorating the tree and drinking whisky by myself, singing along with Christmas songs.</div>
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Every evening, putting the Christmas lights on - and turning them off when I went to bed alone at night - brought me unprecedented joy. Having the tree gave me an excuse to have a Christmas drinks party, which got very out of hand and ended with me finding a bottle of cassis in the washing machine a few days later.</div>
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At the end of Christmas, dragging my own now near-dead tree to the recycling point at the park, felt like a huge achievement. Even sweeping up the needles afterwards brought me a low-key sort of joy.</div>
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Christmas tree day is now a tradition that makes me feel great about myself. I love it that I have a bag of Christmas decorations (mismatched and mostly from the charity shop) that I can pull out every year like a real grown-up.</div>
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Yesterday was sunny and I put on a very jolly jumper for the occasion. Because times have changed, I bought a bottle of non-alcoholic mulled wine and made <a href="https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/vegan-tiffin">this vegan Christmas tiffin</a>, which I very highly recommend. Also, curiously, I recommend <i>Batman Returns </i>as a very, very jolly Christmas film.</div>
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The tree brought me a flash of joy when I got up this morning. I will spend the next month coming home every night in a state of terror that one of the cats will have pulled the whole lot over (again), and I'm delighted about it.</div>
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This year, in a new twist, I am actually looking forward to Christmas. For the first time ever, I have just decided 'fuck it' and I am going away. On Christmas Day I will be swimming in a lagoon in Iceland. I'm not sure I have ever looked forward to anything more in my life.</div>
ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-44206070429769957022019-11-10T14:49:00.000+00:002019-11-10T14:49:02.190+00:00Trick PonyAfter I've written a book, I always feel like I've pulled off some sort of black magic that I may never manage again. It's always a panicky, identity-shifting feeling. Who am I if I can't say 'I'm a writer'?<br />
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I've been through it enough times now that I know I will have several ideas in between books that won't come to anything. Ideas that aren't really very good, that are too flimsy to sustain an entire book (or my interest). Invariably I will tell people that I'm working very hard on something new, then feel embarrassed when it fades out to nothing. I have abandoned half-books and even whole books before.</div>
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This time I've found that I don't care nearly as much. I think I will probably write another book. It's what I do. I only want to do it if I think I have something interesting to say. There are a lot of books in the world.<br />
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I think sometimes you know when you're really onto something. The 'breadcrumbs of curiosity' that fall into your life and point you towards what you're supposed to be doing. You can't force it.</div>
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I haven't worked on anything in earnest since STAUNCH came out.</div>
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Because publishing works very slowly, that means it is well over a year since I wrote anything with the intention of it becoming a book.</div>
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Amazingly, for the first time, I'm fine with that. I've had a great time. I've been on loads of holidays. I've read lots of other books. I've taken up knitting again. I've watched loads of TV - I'm more OK than ever with really doing nothing. I've got quite into gardening.</div>
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I've given up smoking and cut my hair and moved in with my boyfriend. I've seen a lot of my friends. I've spoken on the phone to my nan most days. I've started taking evening classes.<br />
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I have had a lot going on, most of it good, and I now consciously remind myself to be gentle with myself. I try to treat myself as I would a dear friend, a friend who I really love. A friend who I treat with kind care. I tell myself not to panic.</div>
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I might or might not have a new idea.</div>
ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-4833303641651351842019-11-08T11:56:00.003+00:002019-11-08T11:56:49.138+00:00The proof is inI received proof copies of STAUNCH this week. These are the uncorrected proofs, bound like a book but not quite a finished one yet, which will be sent out to people as pre-publicity for the real book (which comes out in March).<br />
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It's a funny feeling. This is the third 'proper' book that I have written by myself (there have also been e-books and collaborative projects and many manuscripts that have never seen the light of day). I tried so hard to have a book published for so long, I thought I would feel very emotional about finally seeing my book as a real object. When it finally happened, there was a lot of other stuff going on and I didn't really give myself enough time or space to feel my feelings - curiously, I felt nothing. I didn't feel any of the validation that I had always assumed I would. I didn't even feel particularly proud of myself. It seemed entirely separate from me. I guess there's a lesson about unfillable spaces and how all the books and boys and drinks in the world won't make a difference.<br />
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This time, though, it was different. The box arrived and it took me a little while to open it. I circled it in my kitchen. The cat sat on it. I made myself a cup of coffee. I sat down and opened it slowly.<br />
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I bought myself flowers. I ate some cake. I set up a little shrine on my kitchen table, with candles and a few objects I had bought in India.<br />
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I sat there at the kitchen table, where I wrote the whole book. I felt really proud of myself. This book came from my guts and I am now actually really excited about it coming out into the world.<br />
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My boyfriend came home from work and I wouldn't let him touch it, but we danced around the kitchen.<br />
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'I'm proud of you,' he said.<br />
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And so am I.<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Staunch-Eleanor-Wood/dp/0008325693">STAUNCH.</a> Coming March 2020.ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-58360485758140333002019-09-24T10:31:00.001+01:002019-09-24T10:31:57.920+01:00New ShoesI love back-to-school time. While the mornings are getting a bit depressing, the sunrises are worth it and I am already excited about cosy evenings involving soup, blankets and candles. Last night was spent debating this year's Hallowe'en costumes. Autumn is underway.<br />
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As I have already banged on about a lot, I am now pretty much not buying new things. Depop has (quite dangerously) become my new best friend. My newest-to-me purchase has brought me so much joy I cannot tell you.<br />
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I have new school shoes.<br />
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I have bought a pair of second-hand DM shoes, identical to the ones I wore for school between the ages of 13 and 16. I love them so much. I feel solid and my clunky footsteps delight me. It was pouring with rain this morning, and for once my feet felt warm and dry. I am enjoying wearing them with a cropped trouser and a jazzy sock. Shoes haven't made me so happy, probably since my last pair of DMs - which I had to beg my mum for and promise I would wear at weekends as well to justify the expense (which I did, for years). Truly happy-making shoes for the back-to-school month.<br />
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Most importantly, it's the season when I feel the most productive. I have so many new ideas and just need to get on with it and do them.<br />
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Today really is back-to-school day. Tonight I am taking my new shoes and my rucksack and my new notebook to an evening class. This will be the first new thing I have learned in a long time, and the first non-writing-related endeavour I have undertaken... maybe ever? New stuff. It's scary and good. Wish me luck.<br />
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<br />ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-81864305641549679022019-09-04T12:28:00.000+01:002019-09-04T12:28:10.907+01:00Inverted Commas I Hope Never To Use Again: an essay about the old internet<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria, serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
‘Writer.* Bass player.** Performance artist.*** Inept office temp.****’<o:p></o:p></div>
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* Had a blog<o:p></o:p></div>
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** Was asked to be in a hypothetical band because I looked like Cat Power; taught to play three basic songs by my friend Sheryl’s boyfriend; never played a gig<o:p></o:p></div>
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*** Pranced about in a Valley of the Dolls nightie for my friend Russell’s art college film<o:p></o:p></div>
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**** Actually quite a conscientious office temp, when not writing my blog, photocopying my fanzine, using the franking machine to send agents my unfinished novel and endlessly refreshing Friendster<o:p></o:p></div>
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I always casually expected to be a child prodigy. I was desperate to be special, but also sort of expected it. At three years old, I was reading the newspaper. In junior school, they gave me tests to see if I had a photographic memory. (It turned out just to be ‘quite good’.) I wrote my first ‘novel’ when I was seven, inspired by the Cottingley Fairies and Anastasia Tsar, painstakingly written out and stapled together.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I guessed it was only a matter of time before someone spotted my rare genius and I became the next Francoise Sagan or similar. As the years went by, I began to wonder how I could speed things up. Time was starting to run out. Maybe I should be… <i>doing </i>something? I just wasn’t sure what. I was full of energy and ideas, with not the slightest clue what to do with them. The frustration began to eat me alive. My skin was perpetually itchy with it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was twenty-one. I had failed to work hard at my A-levels and thus finished a course I didn’t enjoy at a mediocre university. I had moved back in with my mum, in a medium-sized town 20 minutes on the train from Paddington.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I wanted to be ‘a writer’ but I had no idea how. I did some office temping and interned on magazines, where I was too self-conscious to speak to anyone and then wondered why they didn’t offer me a permanent job.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was bulimic. I was desperate for a boyfriend. I wanted to be where the cool kids were, but I had no idea where that was. I wore eyeliner that stretched out into my temples, vintage dresses from Camden Market. My back-combed hair was the size of a small dog.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I went out to Popstarz every Friday night and felt sad when I had to go home to the suburbs. I couldn’t afford to move to London and visibly cringed when anyone asked me where I lived.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was jealous of everybody else’s small successes: an article in a magazine, a play put on above a pub, an exhibition in a café.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When I interned at The Face for two weeks over the summer, when I was laughed at for thinking that Hedi Slimane was called Heidi, I was asked in an editorial meeting whether I knew anyone who had ‘a weblog’. I promptly went home and started one.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And suddenly I could make my life look however I wanted it to.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A night out at the pub with my similarly floundering friends could look like Andy Warhol’s Factory in the retelling. We now weren’t unemployed dilettantes; we were ‘writers’, ‘filmmakers’ and ‘DJs’. I’d airily refer to friends’ bands with a coyness that suggested they might be very, very famous. I had many ‘secret projects’ on the go, which in reality consisted of drinking cheap wine in friends’ flats and talking about the things we were ‘definitely’ going to do ‘soon’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That was the summer of blogging, going out every night and writing about it, car boot sales on a Sunday (I would inventory my finds in great detail: old polaroid cameras, horror films on VHS, a lot of 70s costume jewellery), and it was the summer of Friendster.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Like my blog, this started as an attempt to impress people I knew a bit and admired: sort-of friends a year or two older than me, who had flats, boyfriends and cool jobs. I listed myself as a ‘writer’. Exaggerated everything. Posted pouty selfies taken with disposable cameras on nights out.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We read each other’s blogs and left ‘testimonials’ on each other’s Friendster pages. It became a little community of all the acquaintances, semi-friends and boys I had slept with; the thing we had in common was that we all wanted to be ‘something’. On the Internet, we could be.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It actually wasn’t the exaggeration that made me feel better about my small, disappointing life – and I was very careful not to actually lie. This way I could convince myself that my life wasn’t so very far from the one I was presenting. The revelatory bit for me was the uninterrupted viewpoint that was all my very own. I don’t think I’d ever felt that before; I’d been too worried about other people’s interpretations.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And so I could write emotionally about ‘my ex’ without anybody pointing out that, actually, he was just somebody who had sex with me for a couple of months, didn’t like me very much and would have been utterly baffled to have been referred to as ‘my boyfriend’. The emotion was real; I’ve had crushes and outwardly minor disappointments that affected me more than significant adult relationships I’ve had since. Being able to say ‘my ex’ in my own little space made me feel better, somehow. It made me feel like this experience had really happened, my feelings actually mattered.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My family and closest friends didn’t read my blog, so it was fine. The ones who did tended to know me less well, and to have the same attitude towards the dullness of real life, so none of us questioned each other. As long as we didn’t, we could be the stars of this collective little lo-fi soap opera. It suited us to take each other’s fraught, over-dramatic words at face value. I gave everybody pseudonyms – Alabama, Django, Miss Kitty – which not only added to the air of mystery, but made these blurred lines of reality somehow seem more acceptable. It wasn’t quite fiction and it wasn’t quite public oversharing – it was both and neither.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The best thing was, via the magical medium of Friendster, we could broadcast this aspirational life to other people. Not total strangers, so it felt safe but exciting – the best kind of social experimenting. Friendster was based on a degrees-of-separation theory, so it was an acceptable means of stalking friends-of-friends-of-friends. I’d see that my friend Denee’s ex-boyfriend knew a guy who knew the Libertines and looked nice in a stripy T-shirt, so I’d send him a friend request. In later life, I’d agonise over following acquaintances on Instagram and how this might be interpreted, but sending friend requests to tenuously linked strangers on Friendster was not only totally fine but encouraged.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I don’t know if, in that early 00s heady bubble of new social media, everyone was doing the same as me – making themselves sound just a little bit cooler than they were, presenting ourselves like minor celebrities for the first time – but I know a lot that were.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I spent weeks, bored in my dull temp office in Maidenhead, messaging with a guy who didn’t have a picture and claimed to be living in a hotel somewhere out in the wilds of Canary Wharf due to his work. He was amusing and weirdly fancy compared to my friends and me. He sent me long, beautifully written missives about Blixa Bargeld, shopping sprees in Fopp and how the hotel where he lived had ‘an excellent pastry chef’. He was like Patrick Bateman played by Vincent Gallo.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For me, it was a way of passing the time, at least. Someone to test out my arch prose on. Until he eventually sent me an angry all-caps message about how he’d DROPPED SO MANY HINTS ABOUT MEETING BUT YOU NEVER PICK UP ON THEM WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT IF WE’RE NEVER GOING TO SLEEP TOGETHER. I was taken aback. I thought what we were doing was, in and of itself, the point. I deleted him. I was terrified. But undeterred.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I moved on to a boy who was a part-time art student and part-time 50s diner waiter, with great taste in music and a pleasingly gangly frame. We corresponded enthusiastically. He also lived ‘on the outskirts of London’ and had outsize aspirations. I felt like we matched. It began to feel like a real connection.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, this time, it was me who wanted to escalate the situation. Drunk after my sort-of friend Jo’s birthday party in Spitalfields (she was a year older than me, with a boyfriend, a flat and an editorial assistant job – I hated her a bit), Saturday night was bleeding into Sunday morning and I really, really didn’t want to go home. I informed 50s Diner Waiter (as he was known, of course, in my blog) that I was getting in a taxi and coming to his house to meet him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My friends told me to stop being so silly, and I rather enjoyed the drama of it all. I had always wanted to flounce into a taxi and never had a legitimate reason to do so. I still didn’t, but I had to take what I could get. I think I restrained myself from telling the driver ‘and don’t spare the horses’ but I can’t be sure.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’d been texting 50s Diner Waiter so much, my Nokia ran out of credit. When I tried to top it up, I didn’t have enough money in my account. 50s Diner Waiter had been somewhat vague about where he lived, and it was turning out to be a lot further than I had anticipated. I had to ask the taxi driver to stop in the car park of the Bluewater shopping centre so I could try to find a payphone.<o:p></o:p></div>
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50s Diner Waiter walked to the car park to meet me. He looked like his picture, at least. Turned out, he also lived with his parents in a small town quite a long way outside of London, in Kent rather than Berkshire. Fortunately they were away for the weekend. We had nothing much to talk about, so we had sex on their beige sofa and I left very, very early the next morning.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I spent much of the next day on a rail replacement bus, crying behind my enormous sunglasses. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like crafting this into a romantic story for my blog. It was all too depressing. I ate a Big Mac at Paddington and told my mum I’d stayed round at Jo’s. Her nickname for me during this period was Santa: ‘because we never see you, but the food has always disappeared in the morning’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I needed to get my act together. I couldn’t carry on like this. I turned my blog into a print ‘mini-zine’, which I sent out to all the people I most wanted to write for. It actually sort of worked! I carried on with that blog for about two years, but in the latter portion of that time I also read some books about how to go about writing properly. I bought myself a copy of The Writer’s And Artists’ Yearbook.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I stopped fetishising London and ‘going out’ quite so much. This meant I wasn’t hungover every day, which made me – surprise! – much more productive. I finally managed to land a day job in publishing and I spent all of my spare time trying to write in a way that wasn’t half-arsed and aimless. I started eating properly and going out running.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I met a boy IRL who wore a cardigan and liked PJ Harvey, and who I got on with. We went out for a drink.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The boy in the cardigan and I moved to Brighton. In our little top-floor flat, high up above the Lanes, I wrote a proper, full-length novel for the first time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It all still took me a while after that. It took me a while to get an agent, and a bit longer than that to get a publisher. When I did, it was with a YA novel I wrote, about a girl who lives outside of London with her mum and escapes from her mundane life through the magical medium of blogging.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So it wasn’t all for nothing, that time. In so many ways. It gave me a safe space to experiment with who I wanted to be. I deleted that early blog, and now I wish I hadn’t. Just like I kind of wish I hadn’t thrown out all those old horror movies on VHS, the vintage dresses, the Barbarella boots, the crazy costume jewellery… But then I guess I don’t know what I’d do with them if they still existed. I guess that blog would be up in the loft somewhere, gathering dust with all the rest of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If I could read it now, and see that big-eyed confused selfie girl as she painstakingly detailed her life from 2002 to 2004, kind of as it was and kind of how she wanted it to be – I’d feel hopeful for her. Not sad.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Years later, when I was nearly thirty and writing had become my job, I found myself thinking a lot about that old blog. About the time when writing was pure wish fulfilment and there was nobody to answer to.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I set up a new one, just for fun. Still on Blogger, not Wordpress, for reasons of pure nostalgia. Everyone needs an outlet for their spare thoughts, their unasked-for opinions, their extra feelings. These days, that is not always the Internet. But sometimes it still is.<o:p></o:p></div>
ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-70208785013532969302019-08-23T12:07:00.001+01:002019-08-23T12:07:51.014+01:00A nice time.It's been a good week. I started it off in Andorra, where I went - via overnight train from Paris - for a long weekend. There was a lot of walking, eating, swimming and more walking. Andorra is weird, but I feel fondly towards it.<br />
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On Wednesday, when I was home, the announcement was made about my new book STAUNCH. It's a memoir, my first adult book and my first non-fiction. I am excited about it and also terrified. These days, I only want to put work out into the world if I think it serves a real purpose - and I truly believe this does. That is probably also why the prospect of it makes me feel like one big messy, bloody, beating heart. Ho hum. You can read this labour of love in March next year!<br />
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I happened to read this little definition of a long-term relationship in the comments of a random blog of all places, but I have been thinking about it ever since. I don't think I've ever heard real emotional intimacy with another human summed up so incredibly accurately. As much as anything, I'm putting it here because I really want to remember it.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Karla, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">The lovely, lovely comfort of someone to go home to completely be yourself with, immediately worrying about losing them, the boring moments (is this all there is), the really bad mad moments (is this it?), and back again to the romantic luckiness of wow wow I can’t believe I found you and you see me and I see you.</span></div>
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Last night, I found myself singing Joni Mitchell songs to myself in the bath. She sums up a lot of feelings so well; I am struck anew by it every time. Listen to the whole of <i>Blue, </i>then to <i>Court and Spark </i>but only up to and including <i>Car on the Hill. </i>That's my big advice to you.</div>
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It's about to be a long weekend and it's going to be sunny. I am hoping to hang out with nice friends, go for some walks, sleep a lot, do some cooking, wear dungarees and do some jobs in the (tiny, concrete) garden. I can't wait.</div>
ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-5792555177679787072019-08-21T20:03:00.000+01:002019-08-22T16:40:00.698+01:00S-T-A-U-N-C-HFor ages now, I've had a secret. I've been one of those annoying writers with their 'I'm doing a cool thing but I'm not allowed to talk about it yet!' schtick.<br />
<br />
Well, let's go back a few steps...<br />
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In January 2018 I went to India with my grandmother and two great-aunts. I came back feeling inspired. I met up with my agent at the beginning of February and said I had an idea.<br />
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'It's something... different,' I said.<br />
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'OMG, write this immediately,' she replied. 'Do it quickly. I want to read it, like, yesterday.'<br />
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So I sat at my kitchen table for approximately two months and I wrote a book. It was the easiest and the hardest and the scariest thing I have ever written.<br />
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Like all the best things, the words poured out of me with unstoppable force like some kind of weird magic. Then I read it back and wondered if I had actually gone mad, to have put all of this into words. Let alone to consider letting actual people read them.<br />
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During that period, I think I only went out once. For a friend's birthday; Sunday lunch in the pub, where I had a cup of tea and hurried home to write some more. That day I met an interesting person with glasses and tattoos and a nice air of kind cleverness.<br />
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I finished the book and edited it and then went on holiday to Switzerland with my new friend.<br />
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The day after we got back, I had a very nice breakfast at Dishoom with my agent and the publishers who would buy my book.<br />
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It's coming out in March 2020 and the nice interesting person and I now live in a house together. I've also given up smoking, cut off all my hair, got some new tattoos and travelled quite a lot. What a time it's been.<br />
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Oh, and the book is (of course) called STAUNCH. It's for adults. It's non-fiction. You can find out more about it <a href="http://www.hardmanswainson.com/eleanor-wood-staunch-hq/">here</a> and <a href="https://www.thebookseller.com/news/hq-eleanor-wood-non-fiction-1070601">here</a>. I'm excited.ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-37834122036967436292019-08-13T11:58:00.002+01:002019-08-13T11:58:37.326+01:00Adore/EndureI want to move house. I always want to move house. I want to live everywhere.<br />
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Then I start thinking about it properly, and the admin seems overwhelming. I like my bookshelves. I like my little postage-stamp sized garden, which these days has a very good variety of herbs.<br />
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Maybe I will, maybe I won't.<br />
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What I do need to do is make the most of wherever I am each day. Such a simple thing, but a really good one to keep in mind.<br />
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I try to walk the long way home from the station in the evening; it's prettier. I have been making a cake every week. I have been doing yoga nearly every day, even if it's just a short one. I've been walking more. I've been swimming in the sea at least once a week.<br />
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The other day I walked from south London to east London. I even took a picture of that classic Shoreditch High Street motto - 'Let's Adore And Endure Each Other' - on the way.<br />
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I go for a massage once a month now. Somewhat relatedly: I'm comparatively fucking LOADED since I gave up drinking (Day 65 today).<br />
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I went out with my lovely friend Holly on Friday night. I drank kombucha cocktails. We discussed how difficult mid-to-late thirties life can be. It's a glorious fucking horrible time. Then again, it made me feel much better when we talked at length about how happiness levels all even out in the end, no matter what we decide now and how it affects us in the future. And I think they really do.<br />
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I've signed up for an evening course. I've been writing just for fun. I've been reading a lot. I've been wearing outfits that make me feel very happy, all bought second-hand, which also makes me happy.<br />
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While I'm striving so hard to be this more evolved, calm, Zen, organised creature - <a href="https://www.realsimple.com/work-life/life-strategies/taffy-brodesser-akner-stress-tips">this article</a> by the goddess Taffy Brodesser-Akner made me laugh and laugh, and feel much better about my real, messy yet quite productive self.<br />
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While we're at it, isn't <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/news/2019/aug/02/athleisure-barre-kale-tyranny-ideal-woman-labour">Jia Tolentino</a> as wonderful and talented and smart as everyone says? The best thing is, once I would have been jealous, now I'm old enough just to be pleased she exists.ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-90507508683488887282019-07-26T15:34:00.001+01:002019-07-26T15:34:17.674+01:00I Want<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My train was delayed today because it was A Bit Hot. Like, by hours. I had finished my book. So I re-listened to Tracey Emin’s Desert Island Discs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I adore Tracey. I have three of her prints up in my house, including one super-limited edition one that I couldn’t really afford but inexplicably had to have. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Listening to her talking, it struck me for the first time that - over and above all the usual observations about her - in all of her work, she is so open about WANTING. It is all suffused with unadulterated wanting, yearning, disappointment, fury at the injustice. Maybe that’s what makes people feel so uncomfortable. At its core: Wanting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’d never noticed this theme before. One of her works I have a print of is called I WANT IT ALL. I used to think it was a joke. It’s not a joke. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She is the opposite of the cool girl. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was bred to be the cool girl. Yeah, I’m fun, whatever you want, I don’t mind really. Yeah, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fuck that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Wanting is ugly. Wanting is embarrassing. Shameful, even. Unladylike.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Wanting may even be disgusting. I </span><span style="color: #222222;">realise, lately, that I am never more myself than when I am at my least attractive. At my most disgusting. Home alone, sweating in the heat, slumped on the sofa in my pants, pasta-filled belly out, watching that George Harrison documentary AGAIN.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;">I want to be disgusting and stupid and very clever and sexy and ugly and fucking glorious.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;">I want to not be ashamed of wanting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I want everything.</span></div>
ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-47924415187913050982019-07-22T11:12:00.002+01:002019-07-22T11:12:33.323+01:00How To Be Luminous<div class="MsoNormal">
My great friend Harriet Reuter Hapgood writes more
beautifully than you can possibly imagine. She recently produced both a book
and a baby into the world in the space of one week, that’s the kind of casual
over-achiever she is.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Usually, if I read a book and wish I’d written it myself to
the point of jealousy, it’s because it has a clever, twisty plot that would be
far beyond the limitations of my small brain. However, Harriet could write a
book in which nothing happened whatsoever – full of sighs, meaningful glances,
no dialogue and solely descriptions of beautiful rooms and outfits – and I
would happily spend the rest of my life reading it. I honestly don’t know
anyone else on the face of this planet who has her gift for unusual
description, unexpected detail and sighingly gorgeous lycricism.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Her new book, <a href="https://www.hive.co.uk/Product/Harriet-Reuter-Hapgood/How-to-be-Luminous/23592075">HOW TO BE LUMINOUS</a>, tells the story of the
three teenage sloe sisters. Their famous artist mother has disappeared and
Minnie, the middle sister, has lost her ability to see colour. There are
gorgeous boys, even more gorgeous settings, outfits I wish were real and in my
wardrobe, fictional artworks that I can see right in front of me, and a rabbit
called Salvador Dali. There are roses and sequinned platform shoes and secrets
and wild swimming and a thousand shades of bright pink and existential angst.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Her first book, <a href="https://www.hive.co.uk/Product/Harriet-Reuter-Hapgood/The-Square-Root-of-Summer/23542172">THE SQUARE ROOT OF SUMMER</a>, is also wonderful
but I think I love this one even more. I highly recommend reading both. She is frequently
compared to Jandy Nelson – company of the highest order and very aptly
deserved.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In short. I do not even have the linguistic skills to convey
how beautiful Harriet’s writing is. It makes me feel like Georgia O’Keeffe and
PJ Harvey and Sylvia Plath do, but about teenage girls in South London. I can’t
wait for all the things she’s going to do next. The word ‘humbled’ is overused
and I hate it but… yeah, that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As well as being a very proud friend, I also really like
<a href="https://www.wearedore.com/garance/diary/vivre-libre/">this sensible and wise article on being single by Garance Dore</a>. I think she’s a pretty cool
woman.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I also bought some tiny Ivy Park shorts on Depop (I only buy
second-hand clothes now). I bought them from a cool teenage girl and now
totally feel like one when I’m out running. It’s a great feeling.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have been drinking a lot of kombucha. Fun. Today I’m 42
days sober (the longest since I was 14 years old) and I’m told this is where it
gets really good. Incidentally, I have now not smoked in 9 months. This almost
passed me by, and it feels normal now, most of the time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I presume you already do <a href="https://yogawithadriene.com/">Yoga With Adriene</a>, but stepping up
to doing at least one of her (usually short) videos every day has changed my
life for the better.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Last night, we ate pasta sauce made with olives from the
garden and few things have ever made me happier.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Things are really not too bad on this humid, London, sleepy,
wearing my boyfriend’s shirt to work Monday morning.<o:p></o:p></div>
ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-81543035071403708412019-07-16T10:44:00.001+01:002019-07-16T10:44:36.856+01:00Maybe useful, maybe not<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been making a lot of stuff lately. I’ve been low-key
productive, focused on the small things. It’s been nice. I find pottering very
relaxing. These things make me feel in control when I’m not. I really value
peace, at the moment. Also I like it when the end product outweighs the effort
involved.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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I’m trying hard to live a little bit healthily, for myself
and the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Here are some of the things I’ve been making and doing, in
case it’s useful to you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/quick-kimchi">This recipe for kimchi</a> has really improved my life. It’s so
easy, it keeps, it’s good for your gut, and it makes a really good dinner just
with a bowl of rice. I leave out the weird addition of carrots, but once I used
the spicy pickling paste just to pickle some carrots on their own, because they
were sitting about getting a bit old, and they were incredible. The moral of
the story is: spicy pickle anything and everything. Also apple cider vinegar
works just fine if, like me, that is your thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://allrecipes.co.uk/recipe/1426/strawberry-jam.aspx">This very, very basic jam recipe</a> is great if you have any fruit
that needs using up. If you feel a little bit fancy, you can add vanilla or
balsamic vinegar or thyme. I have some foraging planned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can then have your homemade jam on <a href="https://www.thebuddhistchef.com/recipe/vegan-pancakes/">these vegan pancakes</a>
for ridiculous smug levels. They are among the best pancakes I have ever made,
vegan or no, and so simple you might as well just make them every Sunday. Yay
grown-up life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who knew that <a href="https://simpleveganblog.com/how-to-make-oat-milk/">making your own oat milk</a> was SO EASY? Also:
ridiculously cheap and saves on packaging (buy your oats from a bulk store and
take your own jar!)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://minimalistbaker.com/make-rice-milk/">Making your own rice milk</a> is also very easy, but I find it a
bit less delicious. Still, worth doing if you just have a bit of cooked rice
leftover, which you can then use to make <a href="https://minimalistbaker.com/overnight-chocolate-chia-seed-pudding/">chia pudding</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://www.theblackpeppercorn.com/2012/10/hummus-making-hummus-with-dry-chick-peas/">Making your own hummus</a>, if you do it from dried chickpeas
bought in bulk, also saves a lot of those little plastic tubs if you get
through as much hummus as I do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now that I’ve tuned into reducing packaging, it’s hard not
to think about it at all times. So just to cut things down, I’d also recommend
<a href="https://www.ben-anna.com/?v=79cba1185463">this deodorant</a> (all natural, comes in paper packaging, works really well)
and <a href="https://www.shinehairgroup.com/shine-bars">this luxurious shampoo bar</a> (invented by my friend Jonathan and probably the
fanciest shampoo bar there is, although I also quite like the Lush Godiva one).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If, like me, you have limited outdoor space and limited
gardening skill/time, I also recommend plants and seeds from the pound shop.
I’ve got some carrots growing on my kitchen windowsill from a pack of 79p
seeds. I just sprinkled them around and hoped for the best, and magic seems to
be happening.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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I could, should and hopefully will do more of the above type
stuff. Please send me your recs (ideally on Instagram, where I now spend all of
my time looking for eco life hacks and sexy sobriety). Thanks!<o:p></o:p></div>
ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-65694527733736958492019-07-15T12:08:00.000+01:002019-07-15T12:08:41.544+01:00Holiday FriendsA weekend of many a seaside jaunt, including going to see my friend Paul Murray sing some lovely songs and we all talked about whether we should move to Worthing. Paul is of the marvellous musical duo <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Beeandjackrabbit/">Bee & Jackrabbit</a> and, as always, I am astounded that they are not internationally renowned and revered, TBH.<br />
<br />
If, like me, you also watched series 3 of <i>Stranger Things</i> in one big gulp and are now slightly bereft - here is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MhLxWGKWu5g">another little musical gem that echoes my many strong feelings about Steve Harrington</a>.<br />
<br />
I've now started watching <i>Call My Agent</i>, which is fun. It's really trashy, but in a glamorous way because it's French.<br />
<br />
I also went swimming, which was nice. I should go swimming more.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I made pancakes for breakfast and ate them with homemade jam, and few things have ever brought me more joy. I have high hopes of our late homegrown carrots, and a plethora of pickling plans. The herb garden is coming on beautifully. I have homemade kimchi in my packed lunch today. I've got my eye on some blackberries for foraging.<br />
<br />
I wonder if this sudden and virulent enthusiasm for preserving things in jars is a futile reaction to the terrible state of the world at large. Probably. It's the sort of thing that can make you feel like you're in control of events when you're really, really not. Oh well.<br />
<br />
Conversely, watching a lot of rubbish late-night horror films and Japanese wrestling. Grown-up life can be pretty great.ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-9566533105255749032019-07-09T16:18:00.000+01:002019-07-09T16:19:49.877+01:00Notes from *any* divorce.<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've been thinking a lot about <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/jul/06/notes-from-hollywood-divorce-emma-forrest-ben-mendelsohn">last weekend's Emma Forrest article</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I agree with her wholeheartedly that: </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"The thing I find most painful about divorce is that there is no marked spot at which to leave offerings."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the end, I can only conclude that the best thing we can do is to write about it.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212; font-family: inherit;">Emma's writing has </span><span style="color: #121212;">always</span><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> helped me, perhaps because I relate far too heavily to all of it. I have read her memoir <i>Your Voice In My </i></span><i>Head</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> probably more times than I've ever read anything else. It's certainly influenced my current writing a lot.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When she got married I literally started a scrapbook of her <i>Elle</i> columns about marriage. 'If she can do it, maybe I can too,' I </span>thought<span style="font-family: inherit;">. 'Maybe...' </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212; font-family: inherit;">However, as always, her words tap into a comforting place, no matter how sad the topic. I was also reminded of the time my friend </span><span style="color: #121212;">Ali</span><span style="color: #121212; font-family: inherit;"> and I followed a man around Marrakech for an entire afternoon because we thought he might be George Michael. He was not George Michael.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'd like to be in </span>Marrakech<span style="font-family: inherit;"> right now. It was a place I long dreamed of before I ever went there. It was more magical than I would ever have expected. For years, I thought I'd end up being like the mum in <i>Hideous Kinky</i> one day. I don't think that any more.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This week a year ago my dog died and I went to Switzerland with a boy I barely knew.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway. Observations today include that spicy-pickling carrots is always an excellent decision. I'm also heavily into aubergines right now (sprinkle them with sumac and roast them). I've been reading about meditation, which I am quite bad at. I'm prepared to try.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tomorrow I am 30 days sober and have been instructed to buy myself a treat.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #121212;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My life has been quite small, lately. It's been domestic and cosy, and I have enjoyed it. I'm starting to feel the itch to do bigger work, </span>though<span style="font-family: inherit;">. Maybe because I watched Brene Brown last night and... if you know, you know.</span></span></span>ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128991025694719795.post-74386526711763980672019-07-08T10:26:00.002+01:002019-07-09T16:05:33.053+01:00What I've been up to.<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been a quiet cosy time, but it also feels like a
productive time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I have been making a lot of stuff. Kimchi, oat milk, hummus,
chocolate spread. I have been pickling a lot of things. The olive tree in the
garden has yielded an abundant freak crop of Brighton olives. I’m trying to
make us into a zero waste household. I’ve planted some carrots. I’ve started
using a natural deodorant and I don’t even seem to stink.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went to a gin festival and drank coffee.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been to some nice gigs. I highly, highly recommend
checking out the <a href="https://edfowler.bandcamp.com/">ED Fowler Band</a> and <a href="https://www.petercat.co.uk/music">Peter Cat</a>, two of the best things I’ve seen
lately.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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I re-read <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/jan/22/the-outrun-amy-liptrot-review-by-will-self">The Outrun by Amy Liptrot</a> and <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/mar/16/the-rules-do-not-apply-by-ariel-levy-review">The Rules Do Not Apply by Ariel Levy</a>, both of which are beautifully written and highly
inspiring. This is the sort of thing I’m in the mood for these days.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I went to a Belinda Carlisle drag queen contest and it was a
lot of fun.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went for a massage, on a whim. Never done it before, best
decision ever.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m trying to do yoga every single day, and it is helping.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I watched all of the new series of Stranger Things in a
24-hour period. I cried profusely at the end. Rare for me these days; I don’t
cry nearly as much as I used to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hate shopping but I’ve suddenly taken to buying
second-hand clothes on the internet. Getting parcels is fun. So is having a lot
of jumpsuit options, it turns out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am in awe of my wonderful friend Harriet, who has made a
book and a baby in dazzlingly quick succession. She is one of the most
beautiful writers on this earth, and <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40864842-how-to-be-luminous">you should definitely read the book</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/jul/06/notes-from-hollywood-divorce-emma-forrest-ben-mendelsohn">Emma Forrest has also – again – cemented her place as my favourite living writer and I cannot wait to see her film.</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been listening to <a href="https://dominokirke.bandcamp.com/album/beyond-waves">Domino Kirke’s beautiful record</a> a lot and also
aiming to be beyond waves. There’s graffiti at the end of my road that declares
NO MORE DRAMA and I want it tattooed on my heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Today I am 28 days sober, like that film with Sandra
Bullock.<o:p></o:p></div>
ECWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01879354855060071157noreply@blogger.com0