Holiday Friends

A 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 Bee & Jackrabbit and, as always, I am astounded that they are not internationally renowned and revered, TBH.

If, like me, you also watched series 3 of Stranger Things in one big gulp and are now slightly bereft - here is another little musical gem that echoes my many strong feelings about Steve Harrington.

I've now started watching Call My Agent, which is fun. It's really trashy, but in a glamorous way because it's French.

I also went swimming, which was nice. I should go swimming more.

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.

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.

Conversely, watching a lot of rubbish late-night horror films and Japanese wrestling. Grown-up life can be pretty great.

We are the Misfits!

My cousin and bestest friend (AKA frousin) Nic is pretty awesome. Recently, she has moved to Brighton (to the end of my road - yay) and become a yoga teacher.

She is now launching MISFIT YOGA, which I personally think is a very exciting and brilliant idea. Basically, it's yoga made fun and accessible, not scary Insta showing off, with laid-back and friendly people. She will be running workshops, initially around the Brighton area, but let her know if you live somewhere else and are interested!

There will also be a MISFIT NEWSLETTER! I am very delighted to disclose that I will be helping out with this side of things, so as well as more information about Misfit and yoga wisdom from Nic, please do sign up if you have any interest in receiving amusing, tenuously yoga-related articles from me, straight to your inbox. Boom.

Expect my thoughts on Madonna arms, the classic Geri Halliwell yoga video, inspirational women in general, fitting in exercise when you have a full-time job plus side hustle plus social life, recipes, random book/music/article recommendations, and other such life-enhancing ephemera.

I'll leave you with the original Misfits. Well, kinda. The best ones, anyway (haha).

Chazzing.

It's ages since I did a good chazzing mission.  Today I went to George Street in Hove and bought the following:

Bright yellow Adidas Gazelle high-tops (for £7!)

Songs of Leonard Cohen on vinyl (amazingly, I did not previously own this)

Heart of Stone by Cher (contains If I Could Turn Back Time - such a great addition to the kitchen disco collection!)

The Head on the Door by the Cure

Best of The Bangles


Then I came home and made a tuna sandwich and a cup of tea. Pleasing.

Current mood: back-to-school autumn vibes strong. New school shoes, healthy and productive mode. Dreams of Sunday lunch parties with lots of red wine and log fires.

I was trying hard to think of good autumnal songs.  My favourite is 'Autumn Teen Sound' by the Slingbacks, from their album 'All Pop, No Star'. That whole album sounds to me like teenage nostalgia.  I felt like that even when I was 20; I think I was more nostalgic then than I am now, even. I can't find any links to their songs, but that album seems to be available in nearly every charity shop in the country, funnily enough. I originally found it in the chazza, and bought it just because I liked the cover.

I remember bicycles overturned on summer lawns
Came so far, we rode so hard
Past the veils of chainlink to your back yard

I remember you and me in that autumn teen sound
Sing along to prove that you've been listening

Being stranded all alone
Between the Partridge Family and the Rolling Stones
I was walking down your street, undressing in my head

I remember you and me in that Autumn Teen Sound
Kiss me once before your sunburn fades

Years turn to sighs, scattered hopes lie dead
And realise how yellow and red autumn really is

Why do I romanticise an innocence we never had?
Was I ugly? Were you boring? We struggled to make sense

I imagine you and me in that Autumn Teen Sound
Kiss me once before your summer fades
I remember you and me in that Autumn Teen Sound...

The Brighton Fanzine Tea Party!

I am extremely excited to announce that - following our wildly brilliant mini-workshop at YALC - Harriet Reuter Hapgood and I are hosting our very own BRIGHTON FANZINE TEA PARTY.

If you'd like to come, you can buy a ticket here!

Here's the deets:

I AM NOT ASHAMED zine (by YA authors Harriet Reuter Hapgood and Eleanor Wood) presents THE BRIGHTON FANZINE TEA PARTY. Come and spend a cosy afternoon with us, making zines and celebrating DIY culture – with cake and music and glitter. Teens welcome!

• Make your own zine
• Chill in the zine library
• Buy personalised zines and books
• Browse the jumble sale
• Drink tea and eat cake

What you get:

• Everything you need to go home with a master copy of your own fanzine
• Zine-making tutorial, advice and all craft materials (much glitter)
• Chat to authors about your book/zine/writing
• Tea and coffee and homemade cake
• Hang out with friendly creative people in a lovely cosy place
• Exclusive I AM NOT ASHAMED party bag

I AM NOT ASHAMED

It finally exists!

To explain, my wonderful friend Harriet Reuter Hapgood* and I have been talking for AGES about how we are going to make a proper old-school photocopied 90s-style fanzine.  Just talking about it has been the best fun ever - a bit like being a teenager and discussing at length with your friends about how you're going to start a band but never actually playing a note (was that just me and my friends, maybe everyone else used that time to actually learn to play guitar properly?).

Anyway, we spent days drinking tea and eating snacks, talking about how great our fanzine was going to be.  Obviously, this was a very worthwhile exercise.  We would write bits, ambitiously plan bits, draw bits... then put them in a drawer and kind of forget about them.

This weekend - during a Brighton heatwave - we decided: ENOUGH.  We spent a whole day sitting in Harriet's garden in the sunshine, with her cat and a bag of cookies and a stack of craft supplies and a suitable playlist, and we GOT IT DONE.  We made a fanzine!

Our fanzine is called I AM NOT ASHAMED.  Its (very broad, quite vague) theme is ENTHUSIASM.  Be an unapologetic enthusiast.  Enthusiasm is good.

I AM NOT ASHAMED will probably be available at a publishing event near you soon.

In the meantime, here is a little zine inspiration board.

*If you have not done so already, I cannot recommend enough that you read Harriet's beautiful book, The Square Root of Summer - it is truly wonderful and I am still pretty blown away that this amazing and gorgeous genius is my friend, TBH.

Friday, Never Hesitate

It's Friday.  I am wearing new dungarees.  Dungarees make me feel weirdly sexy.

It's sunny.  It's about to be a long weekend.  I ate eggs and avocado for breakfast.

I feel very lucky right now to get to live in Brighton and work on the South Bank.  This week, I have seen open-air theatre at the end of my road and a giant hamster trundling past my office.  True stories, both (see: my Instagram).

This weekend, I will be hanging out with dear family and friends to celebrate my mother's upcoming wedding.  My bag is packed with a sage smudge stick, a turban, my swimsuit and a lot of eyeliner.

Whenever I feel filled with such inexplicable little everyday joys, this is my psychic soundtrack song.  It is in my head today.  Last listened to in Ibiza on a trampoline while my friends were still in bed, I sang along quietly to myself and literally wept with joy.  It still reminds me of Saturday mornings in my first flat in Brighton, windows open and dancing around the kitchen.

Beautiful Elliott.  Face of a boxer, voice of an angel - still the hottest juxtaposition there is.

"I may not seem quite right - but I'm not fucked, not quite."

Hometown Tours

My cousin is moving to Brighton. She is also one of my best friends (hence we call each other ‘frousin’), so this is exciting news. It’s also a good chance for me to look at my adopted home city through new eyes.

Brighton is a lovely place to live. They say it’s the home of people who can’t make up their minds – it’s a city, by the sea, surrounded by countryside. I’ve been living here for over a decade, and I probably take it for granted in some ways by now – but I do know that if I moved anywhere else, there are a lot of things I would miss.

My frousin came to stay at the weekend, and it was lovely to show her around some of my favourite haunts.  My well-worn running routes, hidden gems and the little local things that are of no interest to anyone but residents. Brighton is such a recognisable place but – I guess like many tourist cities – most of it goes under the radar. I sometimes go weeks without seeing the sea (sadly).  It’s certainly easy to plan out your life so you never have to see a tourist, if you like. (Although I must be the only long-term resident of Brighton who loves going on the pier at any opportunity.)

It’s fun to show someone else your favourite places. The great cafes that are so important to a Saturday afternoon (at the moment, my friends and I barely seem to go a weekend without popping into Pelicano, home of the best cake in Brighton). Slightly out-of-the-way parks for a moment of calm (Blakers Park being my current favourite). Local restaurants (Pizza 500, at the very far end of London Road, under a viaduct, makes me feel like I’m on holiday). The best charity shops for records and the best ones for household tat (mostly along London Road and Blatchington Road). The list goes on – hit me up if you need obscure recommendations, seriously.

I feel quite proud of where I live, which is nice.  All this also takes me back to the time when I first washed up in Brighton – on a total whim and with a brave/stupid lack of resources (no job, no flat, no friends and barely even any acquaintances), which seems to be surprisingly common among Brighton residents.  I had no idea where I was going; I had only ever been to Brighton once, for a weekend, and like most people I had pretty much only seen the seafront and the Lanes. I wasn’t particularly expecting to stay long.  But I found my feet and now it’s my home.  It’s nice to share it.

I Would Fix You.

I've been meaning to post this for a few days now.  It's been a funny old week.  An up-and-down week.  A hurry-up-and-wait sort of a week.

Anyway, last week I was very lucky to attend the lovely book launch for my friend Sara Barnard's wonderful new book Beautiful Broken Things.  I was also extremely lucky, as Sara and I share our brilliant editor, that I got to read the book in proof form a while ago (things like this absolutely delight me).

It's a gorgeous book about the intensity of female friendship - something that I can hugely relate to.  You know, that feeling of having a new friend and it being even more exciting than a new boyfriend (apparently this is a teenage thing, but I still experience it today).  Crucially, in this book, the premise is: it's not boys who have the power to really break your heart; it's your best friends.

The book also holds a special little place in my heart for being set in Brighton - and my favourite adopted home town is really brought to life in beautiful and perfect detail.  So, it was fitting that the launch took place in Brighton - and I was wildly excited to be in the Brighton branch of Waterstones AT NIGHT!  Drinking a glass of Prosecco, no less.  It was pretty awesome.

There were even Toblerone-flavoured Shakeaway milkshakes (read the book and this will make sense, as if there needs to be a reason for Toblerone being in a milkshake).

It was a lovely night for a really special book.  And for some reason, today especially, thinking of Sara's book puts me in mind of this song - a long-held favourite for me.

I'm in pieces, can no-one see it?
I am stronger on the outside, it's easy when you know why.
This feeling sad, it's not so bad.
I've got friends who lift my spirits, I've got songs that no-one hears...

Decade

It totally took me by surprise.  This month (almost to the day, in fact) I have lived in Brighton for 10 years.

I moved here on a whim, with a boyfriend.  I had only ever visited for the weekend once before.  I didn’t have a job or anywhere to live.  We arrived on the train, on a rainy Sunday night, a little bemused and with our possessions in rucksacks.  We lived in a B&B for a few weeks until we found a flat.

It all sounds so young and brave now.  So stupid, some might say, but it’s worked out OK.

I’m not with the same boy any more – but we both still live in Brighton.  I’ve lived in four different flats and houses around Brighton.  I have made brilliant friends.  I have written books.

I have done all the things you do when you make a city your own.  I have staked out my favourite pubs.  I have got to know my neighbours.  I have run along the beach and the streets and the parks.  I have taken visitors to the Pavilion and been ice-skating there in the winter.  I have discovered favourite new bands in grotty venues.  I have had secret assignations in the museum.  I have eaten spaghetti Bolognese in the 24-hour caff at 4 in the morning.  I have got excited every time I saw Nick Cave or Natasha Khan in the street. I have bought a lot of shit from Snoopers Paradise.

All that stuff.  You know.  For 10 years.

To mark the occasion, I think I will do my best to remember and to forget.  I will drink Champagne and burn sage.

Brighton, I still love you.

But don't they call it a Snickers these days?

So, I'm running a marathon.  It's official.

Specifically, the Brighton marathon, which takes place at the beginning of April.

This isn't going to become a running blog.  That's not what any of us signed up for.  However, I'm going to be spending more time than usual pounding the pavement/cliff paths/parks over the next three-ish months.  So I thought I might do a little monthly update or similar on how it's all going.  Actually, that's not very many months at all, is it?

Eek.

Well, as you may know, I've been running for a good few years and I kind of love it.  But I am a total hippie when it comes to running, and so I have never done an 'official' event or race, except for my local Parkrun.  The opportunity came up to run for the perfect charity (more on that later as well, I expect) - and what could be more perfect than a seaside marathon in my adopted hometown?

The longest runs I have ever done before have been roughly half marathon length - so I have quite a good foundation, but it will still be a mega challenge.  I must admit that the thought has been crossing my mind for some years now, only fleetingly - 'could I..?'.  So, it's time to have a good go at it and answer that question once and for all.

I always claim to run for the joy rather than any kind of challenge - and that's true.  It just feels good to be outside and moving.  However, a bit of challenge is good.  I remember the feeling when I first started running, and built up slowly to running a 5K and then a 10K non-stop.  It was a lovely achievement and made me feel great.  It's ages since I've experienced anything like that - I know I can run a decent distance without stopping, so I just plod along aimlessly and enjoy the scenery or the weather, or whatever.  Which is nice, but a different thing altogether.  I have my regular routes now, and for the last couple of years, that's all I've been doing.  Once again by necessity, now I'm going to rediscover that feeling of challenging myself, this time more than ever before - so I will find out if I enjoy it on this new level.

I'm determined to do it - so the worst that might happen is that I don't enjoy it and don't do one ever again.  Fine.  Then I can go back to my hippie running non-schedule and at least I will know.

Right?

P.S. Whilst I'll be trying not to bang on about it too much here, I have decided to keep a little diary of my training endeavours - if you are interested, you can read it here.

The Year of the Super

So, the grand total of two days in, and my newly invigorated fitness regime has been going pretty well.

I brought the new year in with aching muscles.  I traditionally like to do an extra long run on New Year's Eve, to round things off with that special feeling of smugness.  This year, rather than go for mega distance, I decided to get a head start on another resolution - more hill running.  I can plod along for miles on the flat, but hills pretty much finish me off.  This must stop.

So, I decided to go for a 10-mile loop from my house, incorporating as many hills as possible.  The greatest of these was to venture up Bear Road (in Brighton, look it up on Streetview and please be impressed!).  I got through it by pretending I was on the travelator in Gladiators.

I duly spent the entire evening scuttling sideways up and down the stairs like a crab.  Still, I'm not sure that this can be entirely blamed on Bear Road.  The day before, I did the Cindy Crawford workout video - the same one I used to do as a kid for fun in the 90s.  Cindy is magnificent, and unfathomably keen on a lunge.

I really do think that, so many years on, Cindy Crawford's 'Next Challenge' workout has got to be one of the best.  I'm planning to keep at it, and to try to dig out some other 'super' workout videos.

Mirror

Yesterday was such a lovely day.

After a walk on the beach and an excellent breakfast, I headed (with a lovely gang in tow) to Brighton Flea Market - my current favourite junk shop, at the top of St James's Street; do check it out if you're ever in my neighbourhood.

Amid the taxidermy, church artefacts and an amazing plaster dog that Jack wanted to buy, we found the perfect mirror.  I've been looking for a mirror for my sitting room for ages, with quite specific requirements - art deco, the type with bevelled edges that hangs from a chain.  It's been a lengthy process, as they've all been either not quite right or wildly expensive.  Anyway, there it was - just what I've been looking for, hanging in a dusty corner behind a pillar and only £18.

For good measure, I also bought a little blue and white French 'a vendre' (for sale) sign, because I liked the look of it.  It is currently hanging on my bathroom door for no good reason.

We then hauled our spoils to Metrodeco, a tea house where I have been meaning to go for ages.  There were exciting teas (and tea cocktails, which I did not try but intend to) and really good cakes.  Plus, all the antiques in there are for sale.

We headed home for Sunday dinner and Poirot, and I had a glass of ale in the bath.  Whenever I look at my new mirror hanging over the mantelpiece I can remember a lovely winter seaside day.

Eight years by the sea...

I am crap at remembering dates and anniversaries.  However, it is at this time of year when I usually remember that I moved to Brighton somewhere around the end of November.

Walking up St James's Street with my friend Jack last Sunday, we walked past the B&B where we stayed for two weeks when we first arrived here off the train from Victoria, before our flat was ready.  Those were good times - there was a telly in our tiny top-floor room; the place was run by the lovely Paul and Sean, who gave us extra breakfast and a motivational speech every morning.  I arrived - technically unemployed and homeless - on a Sunday night; by the Monday afternoon I had a job, which I am sure was due to this extra hash brown and enthusiasm.

That was eight years ago.  Since then, I have lived in three Brighton flats.

A crazy top-floor flat in a historic building in Market Street, the middle of the south Lanes: where a friend slept on the sofa for over a year; we had cheap pizzas from the restaurant over the road for dinner nearly every night and then had an impromptu street party after we all watched Italy win the World Cup together; the off-licence across the square did a special deal of two bottles of terrible red wine for £5...  I wrote my first full-length novel - the one that got me an agent - sitting at that kitchen table at night and smoking a zillion fags.

Then we moved ten minutes' walk up the steep hill to Albert Road in Seven Dials.  We rented a ground-floor Victorian flat with a tiny patio from a friend of mine, which was cosy and lovely.  I wrote like a maniac in that flat.  We became friends with people who lived in our road, and everyone in the amazing local shop.  I baked a lot of cakes in that tiny galley kitchen, feeling very grown-up.  I still also drank a lot of red wine and smoked a lot of fags on that back patio.

When it was time to move, we didn't want to go too far.  We were supposed to stay at Albert Road for a year, and ended up staying for four and a half.  So, we moved to Buckingham Road - a new address but technically about seven doors down the road.  We were now even closer to our favourite corner shop.  We could see the old flat from the new one.  This was helped by our vantage point from the high-up third floor; we called that place 'the garret'.  It was a lovely flat, with a weird layout and a tiny kitchen that reminded me of Paris.  It got really good light and it gave me my first-ever view of the sea, if you stuck your head out of the bedroom window/fire escape.  It was a great flat for writing in.  However, we heard our downstairs neighbour making weird sex noises pretty much every night just as we were sitting down to dinner.

So... nearly a year ago (in late January) we moved to a tiny little house on the other side of town.  The first time I've lived in a house (with stairs, and my own front door!) in over a decade and the first place I have ever 'owned'.  I have roots in Brighton now.  At the moment, at least, I feel like I hope they carry me out of my house in a box in approximately sixty or so years.  Incidentally, my next door neighbours have actually lived in their house for sixty years - isn't that cool?

Sha-mania

A very quick note to say that I had the best ever session with my shaman on Saturday.  I am still feeling awesome from it now.

She removed my negativity and energy blocks, spoke to my past selves and brought back lost gifts, and discovered that my power animal is a horse.

I may write about this at length, but really just wanted to check in and say it is really fucking great.  This may well not be your cup of organic green tea, but I for one heartily recommend it.  If you happen to be on the lookout for a shaman in Brighton, please do get in touch so that I can give you the details of mine - she is amazing (shamazing?) and I love her.

Other exciting happenings this weekend: I started reading The Perfect Suicide, the new novel by my friend Lotte Worth.  I barely slept last night because I couldn't put it down, and can't wait for my train journey home for the final pages tonight.  Spellbinding, beautiful, disturbing - one that I know will stand up to re-reads and will stay with me for a long time.

I am off on a jaunt to Istanbul in a day or so, with my best friend, for Easter - have a lovely one.