I’m not even talking psychologically, I’m talking physiologically. All the ologically’s in fact. Some of you may have read about my mystery condition actually being a very simply vitamin B12 deficiency needing loading injections I’ve been visiting my GP for every 2nd/3rd day for a fortnight. Well I did that and I had that small revelation you get when you’ve been unwell and then aren’t as unwell. It’s never a heart breaking eureka moment, but instead just an absence of feeling as awful as you have been. It hit me one day when I realised for the first time in forever I didn’t lust after an afternoon nap, or indeed just take one. Amazing! Imagine not feeling bone tired. Just a delight and a pleasure.

And then came the crash. Now I had researched this (of course I had!) and apparently after large B12 loading doses one can feel pretty awful, a rebound if you like. And my oh my has it been unpleasant. Intense fatigue, gut related issues (less said about that the better), headaches, tension, heart palpitations and fetchingly, a red inflamed face that looks like I’ve been rolling in stinging nettles. Stunning.

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Every day I’ve struggled to keep up with my very basic responsibilities, washing, drying, folding, repatriating clothes to their rightful owners, cleaning the house, feeding the children, the boyfriend, the cat, the dog. Shopping for aforementioned food, cleaning up after food is eaten, tidying the house into less of a bombsite, trying to make some money, be a mother, oh and then my Homestart volunteering started AND I NEED TO FINISH MY BOOK.

Moggy casually thinking ‘finish your b*stard book’

I am trying to be kind to myself. I am trying not to bring that 1980’s working to middle class Midlands childhood instilled work ethic and self flagellation into play. I mean I’m not even a Catholic FFS. However I am but a middle aged woman trying to out run her hard wired beliefs that I can do it all and I will do it all and I will be furious with myself when I can’t/don’t/shan’t.

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Now I have had a few messages from people asking for more info on Homestart and how I am getting on. Obviously I can’t give any details about the family I am volunteering with. What I can say is that we had a first introductory meeting with my supervisor that went well. Luckily and I hope correctly I felt we had some commonality in life experiences, interests etc. It felt like a good match. We met again two days later, just me and the parent I am supporting, and the meeting was very different to the first.

I mean I don’t know why I didn’t expect this. The dynamic of a three is not the dynamic of a two, and I mean that in a positive way. We had almost 2 hours of just getting everything out in the open. What’s been going on, what the parent wants for the future, how they might achieve that with a bit of support. We made a list, we cracked open a new notebook. I came home and spent a long time on google, working through how we can get to where this parent wants to be. How did it feel? A little overwhelming, I mean this isn’t child’s play, this is someone’s life and their children’s lives too. It felt exciting, because sometimes it’s only people outside of a situation who can see the path forward. It felt a bit sad, because this level of support should be there for anyone who needs it, whether through funded services or community support. I definitely had that new term sensation of having a new pencil case without ink stains; an optimistic sense of a fresh page and anything being possible.

And then I couldn’t

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Anyway, if you’re the kind of person who enjoys baking and cooking for special occasions here are a selection of my best Easter recipes including Simnel flapjack, white chocolate and cranberry hot cross buns, orange spiced fudge, Creme egg cheesecake, white chocolate and lemon mousse ‘eggs’, Easter apostles scone loaf and of course a showstopper of a chocolate brownie nest cake with Cadbury creme egg buttercream and a chocolate nest full of mini eggs.

Other recipes are available, probably just as good, if not better. If you’re so inclined the entire blog back catalogue is available here. I haven’t dared take it off-line yet. I need to. Maybe after Easter.

(If you note there’s some inconsistency in the way the recipes are presented it’s that the blog spanned over a decade so my writing changed, as did I).

Simnel Easter flapjack

Yield: 12

Ingredients:

• 175g butter

• 50g light brown muscovado sugar

• 140g golden syrup

• 1/2 tsp ground ginger

• 1 tsp ground cinnamon

• 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg

• 2 cloves, ground

• Zest of 1 lemon

• 250g oats

• 150g raisins/sultanas

• 50g mixed peel

• 250g marzipan, cut into 1cm squares

Instructions:
Preheat the oven to 180c/fan 160/has mark 4 and line a 25 x 25cm tray with non stick baking paper. Melt the butter, sugar and syrup in a large saucepan over a low heat. Remove from the heat and add the rest of the ingredients. Stir well. Pour into the tray and press down evenly. Bake for 25 - 35 minutes until golden brown. Cool completely in the tray before cutting into squares. NB: the flapjack will look bubbling and molten in the centre when you remove from the oven. It will set upon cooling.

White chocolate & cranberry hot cross buns

Made 11 for me

Ingredients:

• 500g strong white flour

• 7g sachet fast action dried yeast

• 7g salt

• 15g olive oil

• 50g caster sugar

• 1 large egg

• 350mls warm, body temperature, milk

• 1 clove ground very finely

• 1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg

• 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

• 50g white chocolate chips

• 100g dried cranberries

• Egg wash made from an egg with a pinch of salt stirred in

• ‘Cross’ paste made from 70g strong white flour mixed to a pipeable but stiff paste with cold water

• Glaze made from boiling 60mls water with 50g caster sugar

Mix together the flour, yeast, salt, olive oil and caster sugar. Add the warm milk and mix again. Then add the egg, beaten and mix again. Knead until shiny and elastic – probably about 10 minutes by hand or about 4 in a mixer. I used my stand mixer as this is a VERY sticky dough – it’s enriched with milk and eggs which mean it’s hard work by hand. It isn’t impossible but I am just warning you. A dough scraper might be useful if you do do this by hand. And remove all rings.

Once shiny and elastic (but still sticky) cover in clingfilm and leave to double in size. Once doubled add the clove, nutmeg, cinnamon, chocolate chips and dried cranberries. Mix well whilst knocking back the dough then scrape onto a floured work surface and divide the dough into as many pieces as you wish to make buns. I managed 11 oddly.

Flour a baking tray lightly and then take your piece of dough, dip it in a little of the flour on the work surface so it doesn’t stick to your hands – then squash it in your hand and pull the edges into the middle, like you’re folding something exciting into the centre. Pinch these edges together and then place the bun pinched side down on the tray. Continue until all the dough is used and leave about a 1cm space between each bun. Cover loosely in clingfilm and leave to proof until double the size.

Preheat the oven to 200C/Gas 6. Make the flour paste for the crosses by mixing 70g strong white flour with a little water until you have a stiff paste. It needs to be pipeable but not too thin that it drips down the buns. Once the buns are double the size brush them in egg wash then pipe a cross onto each bun. The buns will be touching by now through the proofing process so it’s actually easier to pipe along all the buns in one direction and then turn the tray and do the same – rather than pipe each cross individually. Pop into the preheated oven and bake for about 15 minutes but keep an eye on them as enriched doughs, especially ones with sugar in, have a tendency to burn easily. Also your buns might be bigger or smaller than mine so will likely have a different baking time. They’re done when browned and risen.

Whilst they’re baking make the glaze by boiling 60g water with 50g caster sugar. Had I thought about it at the time I might have added a little orange water or even lemon juice to this mixture but I didn’t. When the buns are ready grab them from the oven and brush with the still warm glaze. Beware using too much as it makes for soggy bun bottoms by dripping under the buns and pooling on the baking tray. When cool enough to touch pull the buns apart and transfer to a rack. Eat slightly warm with chocolate spread or toasted with salted butter. Or in bread and butter pudding.

You can totally substitute different chocolates/dried fruits/spices etc

Chocolate brownie nest cake with creme egg buttercream

Ingredients:

For the cake:

• 150g butter, salted or unsalted but I tend to use salted

• 250mls water

• 250g dark chocolate, finely chopped

• 300g plain flour

• 60g cocoa

• 1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda

• 1/2 tsp baking powder

• 550g caster sugar

• 4 large eggs, at room temperature

• 30mls olive oil

• 90mls milk

• 10mls lemon juice (from a bottle is fine)

For the bird’s nest:

• 50g butter

• 30g golden syrup

• 200g milk chocolate (broken up Easter egg remnants are perfect)

• 100g Shredded Wheat (4 pieces), crumbled into pieces

For the icing:

• 125g salted butter, softened

• 250g icing sugar

• 3 tbsp double cream

• 5 x Cadbury Crème Eggs

To decorate:

• 2 x 90g bags Cadbury Mini eggs

• Yellow fluffy chicks (optional)

Instructions:
To make the cake, preheat the oven to 160C/fan 140C/gas mark 3 and line 2 x 20cm round tins. Melt together the butter, cold water and chocolate for the cake in a saucepan. Once melted remove from the heat and set aside. Mix together the flour, cocoa, bicarbonate of soda, baking powder and sugar. Add the melted chocolate mixture to the dry mixture along with the eggs and oil. Beat for 4 minutes until smooth. In the meantime add the lemon juice to the milk to sour it. Add this to the cake mixture and beat for another minute until really creamy and smooth. Divide equally between the two tins and bake in the centre of the oven for 55 minutes to 1 hour 5 minutes, until well risen a toothpick comes out of the centre of the cakes clean. Cool on a wire rack, out of the tins. Whilst the cakes are baking make the birds nest cake topper by melted the butter and syrup over a very low heat in a saucepan. Add the chocolate and stir until it’s melted. Stir through the Shredded Wheat until completely coated. Draw a 20cm circle onto a piece of non-stick baking paper, turn it over and then spoon the Shredded Wheat onto the paper, being careful to stay about 1cm within the line. Build the nest up towards the outside to make it slightly higher using your hands. Leave in a cool place (not the fridge though) to set. Make the icing by beating the butter for 5 minutes in a stand mixer/using a hand held mixer or with a wooden spoon. Add the icing sugar one tablespoon at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the double cream and beat for 7 minutes until light and fluffy. Break the Crème Eggs up into pieces and stir through the buttercream. (If using a stand mixer you can add them whole to the bowl and beat on a low setting). Assemble the cake by using half the icing to sandwich the cakes together and the rest spread on top of the cake. Carefully use a slice or cake lifter to move the nest to the top of the cake, add Mini Eggs to the top and a few fluffy chicks if you wish.

Crème egg cheesecake

Ingredients:

For the base:

• 125g digestive biscuits (about 8), crushed

• 75g butter, melted

• 1 tbsp caster sugar

• 75g dark chocolate chips

For the cheesecake:

• 350g cream cheese, softened

• 85g icing sugar

• 1 tbsp vanilla extract

• 300mls double cream, whipped to stiff peaks

• 5 Cadbury crème eggs, cut into 6 pieces each

For the top layer:

• 150g milk chocolate

• 1 tbsp olive oil

• 89g bag mini Cadbury crème eggs

Grease and line a 20cm springform tin with clingfilm – this is important as it makes it much easier to remove later. Mix the biscuits, melted butter and sugar together (you can use a food processor if you wish), stir in the chocolate chips and press into the tin using the back of a metal spoon. Chill in the fridge for 10 minutes.

To make the cheesecake layer, beat the cream cheese, icing sugar and vanilla extract in a stand mixer, with an electric handheld mixer or with a wooden spoon until combined. Then gently fold through the whipped double cream with a large metal spoon. Spoon a third onto your chilled biscuit base, then add half of the crème egg pieces, add another third, then the rest of the crème egg pieces and then the last third of the cheesecake mixture. Smooth until flatish and pop back in the fridge for 1 hour.

Melt the chocolate in short bursts in the microwave or over a bain marie then add the oil, stirring well. Pour over the top of the cheesecake and add the mini crème eggs to the top. Chill for another 2 hours.

To serve gently remove the springform tin and unpeel from the clingfilm. Cut into slices using a knife dipped in hot water for clean cuts, though beware this dessert is messy when served.

White chocolate mousse eggs with lemon curd yolks

Makes about 9 though depends on the size of your chocolate eggs

Ingredients:

For the curd:

• 35g butter

• 70g castor sugar

• 1 lemon

• 1 large egg + 1 egg yolk

For the mousse:

• 2 large eggs, separated

• 125g white chocolate

To finish:

• 9 hollow milk chocolate eggs (though how many you fill will depend on the size of your eggs of course)

Melt the white chocolate in the microwave, allow to cool a little. Locate something to stand the finished eggs in – an empty egg box would be perfect.

Make the curd by placing a pan of simmering water over a medium heat and placing a heat proof bowl over the top, being careful that the water doesn’t touch the bowl. Place the butter, sugar, lemon zest and juice into the bowl and whisk. Stir until completely dissolved.

Then add the eggs and whisk intermittently for 10 minutes until the curd has thickened. Chill in the fridge.

To make the mousse, whisk the egg yolks until pale and creamy then add in the melted chocolate and whisk well. In a very clean bowl whisk the egg whites until you have stiff peaks then add 1 tbsp into the mousse to loosen it a little – simply beat it in with a wooden spoon. Then add in the rest of the whisked egg whites and fold into the mousse with a metal spoon using a slicing action. Place the mousse in the fridge.

Take the hollow chocolate eggs and gently saw off the top of the egg with a sharp knife, just to reveal the inside enough to spoon mousse into. Spoon or pipe white chocolate mousse into the hollow eggs and place in the egg box. Spoon a tiny bit of cooled lemon curd into the middle of the mousse before serving.

NB: These hollow eggs must be kept in the fridge until serving. It is advised not to serve raw eggs to young children, pregnant women or the elderly.

Easter Apostles scone loaf

Ingredients:

• 225g self-raising flour

• 1 tsp baking powder

• 1 tsp mixed spice

• Zest of 1 lemon

• Zest of 1 orange

• 50g butter, slightly soft

• 20g flaked almonds

• 40g cranberries

• 10g crystalised ginger, finely chopped

• 40g apricots

• 50g raisins

• 150mls whole or semi skimmed milk

Preheat the oven to Gas 7/220C and check the rack is in the centre of the oven. Lightly grease a baking tray with a little butter. Mix the flour, baking powder, mixed spice and zests in a large bowl. Rub in the butter with your finger tips until it resembles breadcrumbs. Stir the almonds, cranberries, ginger, apricots and raisins in well so they’re all coated in the flour mixture.

Pour the milk over the mixture and pull together with a blunt table knife. Once combined use your hand to pull the scone together. The less handling the better when making scones so don’t mix or knead vigorously.

Place the scone dough on your tray and shape with your hands into a loaf shape about 1 inch thick. Score the top with a sharp knife, about a quarter of the way down, in a zig-zag fashion to make 11 triangles (one for each Apostle, to break off easily.) Bake immediately for between 20 – 25 minutes until golden all over. Dust with icing sugar if you wish.

Chocolate orange Easter spiced fudge

Ingredients:

• 200g marshmallows

• 70g butter, cut into cubes the size of a thumb nail

• 200g dark chocolate, broken into pieces

• 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

• Zest of one orange (no pith though!)

• 100g raisins

• 40g crystalised ginger, chopped finely

• Small sugar eggs if you so wish

Place the marshmallows, butter, dark chocolate, ground cinnamon and orange zest into a saucepan. Heat on a low hob until completely dissolved, stirring regularly. Don’t be tempted to hurry it by turning up the heat – the chocolate will burn!

Remove from the heat and add the raisins and ginger, stir well and pour into a tin (approx. 24cm x 24cm) lined with greaseproof paper. (Don’t wait about as it starts to set sharpish.) Push small sugar eggs into the top if you wish (try and leave some clear lines to aid cutting) then refrigerate for 2 hours. Cut into squares and serve. I warn you, this stuff is addictive.

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My partner (not in business)/boyfriend/significant other has a big birthday coming up and is going out for dinner with his family. Now that’s not something that would usually spark fear in a woman, huh? Of course not. But then he mentioned he might pop out after for a drink with a friend who is celebrating their birthday too. Said friend is known for being a bit of what used to be known as ‘a wrecker’.

Here’s why I am writing; in previous relationships this would have sent me into a tailspin. A proper heart thumping, feeling sick, oh god here we go again spiral. But it didn’t. It genuinely didn’t. I just laughed. Partly because I know my boyfriend will likely stay for one drink and leave because it’s too loud. He’s got to that age where loud bars just aren’t his thing. Arguably they never were, the booze and possibility of meeting a nice young lady just dulled the sensory overload.

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But there was more to this moment than just a simple factual understanding. The background to my laughter and relaxed attitude is that I can trust him. I know deep in my heart, right in the hollows of my soul that he will not hurt me. And that might sound bonkers to anyone who’s ever been hurt in love before (all of us?) because it doesn’t feel like that when you’re in the doldrums of betrayal does it? And here’s something else that’s confronting and true - when I used to have those moments of distrust in previous relationships, I wasn’t being needy or difficult or controlling. That was just the rhetoric relied upon by the untrustworthy. Those pit of the stomach warnings of worry were signs that I knew, again, deep in a part of me that’s often hard to access, that these men weren’t looking after my heart. I knew we weren’t a team. My intuition was correct. What I want to tell you is, if you think someone in your life isn’t trustworthy, if you feel a bit unsure of them and find yourself concerned, they’re quite likely a bad egg. Listen to yourself.

After the short ad break I will regale you with some of the absolute worst betrayals I have experienced at the hands of so called ‘partners’. But first:

Did you know I sell my sourdough starter here?

Did you know I wrote a book about divorce? Available as a proper hold in your hands book here and as an ebook here.

Did you know I sell jewels here?

Okay. Ad break over, back to those rotters.

My top 5 moments where my intuition was bang on (from various men, I don’t want to pick on just one awful ex, fair’s fair and all that):

1. The same female friend was always at his shared house when I drove 2.5 hours to see him. That feeling that her crying a lot wasn’t as innocent as I was told and probably wasn’t about some guy at work. Her having to be asked to leave his room when we wanted to go to bed. I asked him about her, of course I did. He just said she was going through a bad time. The truth? That girl became his girlfriend the moment I dumped him. He’d been sleeping with her all along. The ‘bad time’ was having to hang out with her lover and his girlfriend.

2. That Saturday morning I asked him to grab me a newspaper from the local shop, to get 10 minutes space. I had a feeling he might not come back, which even to me at the time sounded silly and dramatic. Guess what? I was right! He came back the next morning. He’d bumped into someone he knew and ended up taking lots of coke all afternoon, night etc. He didn’t stipulate the gender of the drug pal but I knew, I knew.

3. That wedding we went to where his significant ex was going to be. How I asked him beforehand not to leave me alone, that I didn’t know anyone at all there, just him, and I felt a bit stressed about it. I felt a bit childish asking this outright but I had a bad feeling about this wedding. He agreed, but he wasn’t exactly effusive in his reassurance. After the meal was served and eaten I didn’t see him again until our taxi arrived to take us home. He was with the ex and her pals all night apparently.

4. The time he let me use his laptop and his chrome settings showed his most visited web pages. Facebook being one of them, not his own profile but a friend of one of my good friends, young and beautiful. I asked him about it and he claimed ‘google chrome lies’. Reader, google chrome does not lie. There was a reason I didn’t sleep well when he went on ‘work trips’.

   Now this next one is behind a paywall because, well, it’s actually quite shocking. Enjoy if you’re a paid up subscriber, or you can upgrade here:

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5. That time I had an overwhelming feeling of being lied to. I can’t explain it other than I knew there was something not quite right. I walked past his jacket in the hallway and slid my hand into the pocket and to be clear, I’d never done this before. I found a

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I was going to write a very clever piece on vitamins and hypochondria and the like but I don’t have the capacity at the moment, mainly because of both of these things. I’m at sixes and sevens. I’m now over the hill of 45 and as such my health is always on my mind. I don’t want to get old before my time. I’m scared of being immobile. I’m scared of falling. I’m scared of heart disease. I’m scared of cancer. I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared.

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But who isn’t? I mean getting old is not for the faint hearted and whilst I am not old-old (it’s not a competition for goodness sake, the prize is death after all), I am not young anymore. I am firmly middle aged. I have knees I am aware of and a vitamin box with days of the week. And so because of my age I thought the way I felt was down to that. The crushing tiredness, the type that if you’ve been pregnant you’ll nod your head. The itching skin, the enlarged lymph nodes that have been scanned and are fine, but still, why so large? The pins and needles in my hands. The dreadful balance that perplexes even my most gentle and kind yoga teacher. The low level malaise/depression that I have always been a bit prone to. That feeling after exercising where I think I might die, such is the weakness in my muscles, my bones.

And of course some of you will be reading this and going ‘FFS, it’s SO obvious what’s wrong’ and others will be scratching their head and some might be thinking ‘well I wouldn’t bother a Doctor for that’ and I was firmly in the latter camp. A call from the GP summoned me to pop in for bloods and a urine sample. A well-woman check that apparently I will be called to every few years now I am ‘of age’. And then a call from the surgery to ask me to book in for vitamin B12 injections, five over 14 days, then 3 monthly for a year. A visit for my first one and a nurse greeting me by confirming ‘so you’re vegan then?’ and my reply ‘no, very much not a vegan’ and then the pinch and the punch of a B12 injection which smarts a bit, but I find if you take your 11 year old son it makes you very brave, at least on the outside.

And a warning that I may well start to feel better within 24 hours. And a feeling of suspicion and then a whole two days without having to lay down in the afternoon. What I’m saying is, maybe if you feel like I did (do) get your bloods checked, and remember that here in the UK, our lower acceptable B12 reading is a lot lower than other countries who set it at 500.

Time for a brief ad break:

Did you know I sell my sourdough starter? If you’re in the UK you can buy it here.

From baking to… divorce:

I have physical copies of my book about divorce available here and if you wanted to get a copy immediately it’s always on Amazon as an ebook here.

Oh and if you’re after some jewels may I recommend mine and Scott’s little Etsy venture? Take a look over at our shop here. Lots of really affordable bits packaged up by yours truly.

How cute is the packaging?

Okay. Ad break over.

In other news I am a book reading machine at the moment. I’ve been nurse to unwell children and in the down time I’ve been reading, reading, reading. I can heartily recommend Belgrave Road by Manish Chauhan, a tale of a man and a woman trying to make a life in Leicester (where I live; always nice to read about familiarity when the writing is this good, beats the Leicester Mercury that’s for sure). I am also part way through Wreck by Catherine Newman and may well have found my new favourite author. A coincidence that there are a lot of medical tests and unexplained symptoms in the story? Maybe.

I also like the cover art very much, and whilst that shouldn’t be important, I think we all know it is.

As part of my consumptive personality of late, drawing and painting bring me so much joy. Especially when the painting is onto clay, which sucks up the paint in a very pleasing fashion. Try it, it’s most satisfying.

Oh and lastly, I finished my Homestart training. There’s a family waiting for me apparently. I wonder what they’re like? I wonder if the children like drawing and painting? I do hope so.

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Over and out,

Yours, with a vitamin B12 deficiency,

Holly

So there I was listening to a podcast between an influencer who FASCINATES me and two interviewers. It was asinine content of the highest order. I felt a little superior if I’m going to be really honest. Then, the fascinating influencer stopped me in my smug tracks. The reason? She mentioned a tarot reading she’d had that’d been especially prophetic, not only that, but also very reasonable in price AND, the best bit? This mystic lady was the ex in-house tarot reader for Vogue House. Imagine!

Now I spent a couple of days with the Vogue crew back when I was 20 and let me tell you, they’re a very particular breed. (Or they were, this top intel is from 2000, we can but hope they’ve moved on with their approach to hiring diversity). Let me set the scene; the staff were extremely thin, smokers, a bit high on their nerves (hunger), posh, mostly called Minty or Jocasta or Coco, not the brightest buttons (again, could be hunger related) and all felt extremely lucky to be allowed to work for Vogue, whether paid or not. They were not my people, but then I was not their people either.

Anyway, turns out, back in the day, the Vogue house crew had an in-house tarot reader called Lady Lilac. OF COURSE she was called Lady Lilac! (Her actual name is Jacqui Cosham which I think is equally perfect). And turns out that these days she offers telephone readings for a whopping £35. If you’re interested then her website is here. You need to email her and then she will get back to you with dates and times available. Don’t sit on her availability for long as she books up fast and then you’ll need more dates and so on.

I booked in for a reading with a sense of trepidation. The last time I came across a psychic was at one of those psychic supper things where an old ‘psychic’ chap spat his mushroom soup over my bread roll whilst he repeatedly told me to always say hello to spirits as they passed me. It was a waste of money and the food was inedible, even before the spittle. To prepare for my appointment I made my bed extra comfy with cushions, the cat and a huge vat of orange squash. I sat and waited, fountain pen poised, little notebook in hand. Fifteen minutes before my appointment I received a WhatsApp message from Lady Lilac enquiring if I’d like to start early. I felt quite shocked. I guess I envisaged her to be sitting in a dark wooden arm chair with a 1950’s landline phone cradled in her neck. Even psychics keep up with technology.

So Lady Lilac has a wonderful, slightly gravelly voice, a little like a police inspector might sound in a Lynda La Plante adaptation. She’s an East Ender if my ears don’t deceive me. We started with her taking a little history, which at first jarred. Surely she’d know this? But this was a tarot reading and for tarot it does work better if you have questions for the cards. Goodness, listen to me!

Things she asked me:

• birth dates of me, my parents, my sons, my ex husband, my boyfriend

• what I do for work

• where I live

Before we get to what Lady Lilac told me, it’s time for a brief ad break:

Did you know I sell my sourdough starter? If you’re in the UK you can buy it here.

From baking to… divorce:

I have physical copies of my book about divorce available here and if you wanted to get a copy immediately it’s always on Amazon as an ebook here.

Oh and if you’re after some jewels may I recommend mine and Scott’s little Etsy venture? Take a look over at our shop here. Lots of really affordable bits packaged up by yours truly.

How cute is the packaging?

Okay. Ad break over. Let’s get back to Lady Lilac’s predictions:

1. She said there’s change ahead including a trip. Is this possible? Yes, though isn’t this the same for everyone? I was a bit worried at this point.

2. She said I have a grandparent with a name beginning with the letter R and that I have the energy of that person. She said that this person had been angry at times in his life, but not with me and that they needed to apologise to their child (one of my parents), and that this parent thinks about them a lot of late. I do indeed have a grandparent with an R name. He died when I was 3 so I can’t really comment on his energy but I know from stories that he was not always terribly kind to one of my parents. Stranger though is that recently when I was chatting to this very parent they said this person had been on their mind a lot of late. Especially how unhappy he’d been at the end of his life.

3. She said there’s money to invest, that I am doing well in business. Is this true? Well I don’t personally have money to invest, but I think she was referring to an outside investor. Am I doing well in business? Questionable. I feel poorer than I have in many years but is that the cost of living crisis? Probably.

4. She said that there’s money to be made from the sale of Mrs Bell’s Brownies, that it’s time for me to do the other things I’ve been considering and that there’s an offer on the horizon for the business. She warned me not to close the business but to sell it. True? This resonated hugely with me. All of it.

5. She said that my boyfriend experiences a lot of work related stress and that he tries to control it. That he works with a man beginning with the letter P, that this person thinks he’s doing a great job, even though my boyfriend doesn’t always think this about himself. True? This is bang on.

6. She said I am with the right man now, that he is a good person, that he loves me and is not interested in other women. True? I think so. I have never felt as secure in a relationship as I do now.

7. She noted that a marriage between two Aquarians (myself and my ex) was a very difficult match. Communication was muddled, we rarely argued and that was problematic. True? YES.

8. She said that my ex, though he is now re-married is

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I haven’t written about the Epstein files here, but I am drawn back to the chat forums again and again. Some of it is truly shocking, lots of it doesn’t surprise me much at all. It should, it should. But like so many midlife women, I was forged in a time where men prowled openly around children and it wasn’t anything unusual. It wasn’t even discouraged. Let me tell you about the paedophiles I most remember. This isn’t a complete list. Of course it isn’t.

(NB: if you’re reading this and are not sure what I’m talking about re: Epstein abuse, let me tell you that an awful lot isn’t being reported in mainstream media. It is all there to see in the files though, incomprehensible abuse. I don’t know how a mainstream paper would go about reporting it without fear of a backlash from distressed readers, and I’m sure, also from the abusers themselves. These are extremely powerful men, the richest in the world. Untouchable mostly. If you do want to know more, a good place to start is the Epstein subreddit. Be warned though that it’s chilling stuff).

Here’s a little list of the most memorable paedophiles of my childhood:

1. A holiday with a friend and her family. I was 11. I don’t think she reads here but I will keep the details unidentifiable. Her father was more than a little interested in me and didn’t even try to hide it. His behaviour included wanting to trade a kiss on the mouth in return for being allowed to take a walk without the adults and later in the holiday insisting his daughter and I took a jacuzzi bath together (we were of the communal showers at school generation) whereupon he secretly removed the towels next to the bath so that we had to roam around the apartment naked looking for them.

   I will never forget the utter fear of being openly asked to kiss an adult on the mouth. This was more distressing to me than the naked towel search, because it was requested in front of his wife and daughter, thus normalising it, suggesting that I was a prude. My heart raced as I refused. I remember feeling brave for saying no but also unsafe and sad.

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2. Age 14, the school ski trip to France. One of the teachers brought along her 20 year old son and two of his mates, all ex-pupils. One of these men flirted with me, made me feel special, asked me to visit his dorm after lights out, in my nightie. I did, he kissed me. We wrote to each other between this ski trip and the next. His letters sexually explicit, focusing on my innocence. By the next year’s ski trip to Italy I was beside myself with excitement to see this man. I didn’t care that he had a long term girlfriend. He had chosen me out of all the other children available to him, so I felt special. Well guess what? He didn’t much like me at age 15, less innocent; so there was no second kiss. He wrote to me afterwards to disclose he’d had sex with another girl on the first trip to France, a 15 year old. He said it was okay as she wasn’t a virgin. I was heartbroken and didn’t reply. He married the long term girlfriend and is now a father.

   

   (This was the nightie I wore. The gloves I left at home - this was a sleepover a few months later)

   

   The worst skier you ever did see.

3. Age 14, at a friend’s house. She was a year younger than me but had a 20 year old boyfriend (yes you read that right). He drank at a local working men’s club on a Saturday night, where there was a disco of sorts. Her mother dropped us off and collected us gone midnight. Men swarmed, bought us Malibu and cokes, asked us to go outside with them to their cars. I didn’t go, I was scared of being murdered. My friend did, but with her boyfriend. We loved the disco, showing off our latest Topshop dresses, twirling and swirling to the music. Saturdays at the working men’s club became the highlight of our week, her to visit the car park and me to kiss men on the dance floor. My friend eventually dumped the 20 year old man when she turned 14; for being a bit thick and having a crap job.

4. A French teacher at my secondary school, regularly ridiculed by the teenage boys for being a creep. He was maybe late 50s when he taught us, then one day he was no longer there. He’d never been interested in me much, I wasn’t very good at French for a start. Anyway, one day, I received a letter in the post from him, to my home address. It was odd and a bit left-field, but not inappropriate in content, telling me about his new teaching job, day trips he’d taken etc. I was 15 and felt a bit sorry for him. He seemed lonely so I wrote him back and we became pen pals. Over time the frequency of the letters increased and the content started to slightly cross a line. More personal questions, interest in my boyfriends etc. One day the letters stopped. I assumed he had died. This was pre-internet so there was no way to find out really. Until a rogue postcard featuring soft focus kittens arrived, asking why I was ignoring him. My parents had intercepted the letters as his content unravelled.

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5. Age 15, a holiday to Greece. The hotel owner asked me on a date, claiming to be 24. With my parent’s permission he took me on a moonlit boat ride around a nearby island. I remember thinking that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, that I wasn’t an especially strong swimmer. I needn’t have worried on that score, as the predator was in the boat, not the sea. The next day, our holiday rep explained he was actually 33. He wrote to me using his sister to translate once I was back home in England. I worried I might be

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So I have a few recipes for you and I don’t want to be a show off, but they’re really good. The first is a classic crepe, the wafer thin wispy edged style French ski slope things, the second a thick American style stack and then something less traditional and more savoury involving garlic and sweet potato, because, well, see above, I DON’T LIKE PANCAKES.

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The only thing I would like in return is a like, a comment or a share. Go on… maybe tell me what your best ever pancake topping is?

French Style Crepe Pancakes

Makes about 7 large pancakes 22cm in diameter (apologies for the poor photo… this is a screen grab from when I made these on This Morning from my very own kitchen. I used to cook on there every so often and then one day Martin Frizzell took over and decided I wasn’t very good, which wasn’t exactly wrong, but it hurt at the time. I’m over it now, honest).

Ingredients:

• 100g plain flour

• 2 large eggs

• 200mls whole or semi skimmed milk

• 80mls cold water

• 15g melted butter

• Rapeseed or other vegetable oil (but not olive oil)

1. Measure the flour into a bowl and make a well in the middle.

2. Crack the eggs into the well and add about a quarter of the milk.

3. Whisk well with a handheld whisk until the batter is smooth and thick.

4. Add the rest of the milk in thirds, whisking well after each addition.

5. Add the water and melted butter, whisk well, cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes or up to 2 hours. (This stage is important as it makes the pancakes more tender).

6. Heat ½ tsp of oil in a non-stick frying pan (approx. 28cm wide) on a very high heat. Don’t be tempted to add more oil as it deep fries the edges making them thicker and rubbery.

7. Hold the hot frying pan away from the heat then take a ladle (or use a jug) to pour just enough pancake batter into the frying pan to thinly cover the base. Tilt the pan to help the batter run over the base of the frying pan. The first one will always be a bit thicker than the rest – it’s a learning process to see just how much batter you need to spoon in.

8. Place the frying pan back on the heat and wait until the edges start to curl and the centre shows large bubbles – this takes about 40 – 60 seconds. Then shake the pan a little to see if the pancake comes loose. If it doesn’t use a slice or palate knife to loosen the edges.

9. You can either use the slice/palate knife to flip the pancake over or you can have a go at tossing the pancake in the air to turn it. To toss it make sure all small children and animals are out of the way (!) and hold the frying pan away from your body, pointing downwards at about 45 degrees. With a quick hand movement push the frying pan forwards and upwards which will push the pancake off the edge of the pan furthest away from you. Try and catch the pancake!

10. Don’t worry if it falls on the floor or flips over folded. Pancake tossing takes a bit of practice. You can just flip them using a fish slice, place underneath and simply pick up and tip upside down. Much easier.

11. Fry the other side of the pancake back on the high heat for about 30 seconds, then slip the pancake onto a plate.

12. Add another ½ tsp of oil to the pan and repeat until all the pancake batter is used up. You can keep the pancakes warm by separating them with non-stick baking parchment and placing them in a low oven whilst you fry the rest.

American Style Thick Pancakes

Makes about 8, scale the recipe up as you need to

Ingredients:

• 130g plain flour

• ½ tsp bicarbonate of soda

• 1 tsp baking powder

• 240ml milk

• 1 large egg

• Groundnut or sunflower oil, for frying

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1. Place the flour in a large bowl and mix in the bicarbonate of soda and baking powder.

2. In a jug measure the milk, crack an egg into it and whisk until well mixed.

3. Add the milk and egg mixture to the dry ingredients. Using a metal spoon, mix well until no lumps remain.

4. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Once the oil starts to sizzle add a ladle of the pancake mixture so that it spreads to about 10cm wide. Once it starts to look firm, between 40 seconds and 2 minutes later (this is dependant on the ferocity of the heat), use a fish slice to flip the pancake over. It should be lightly browned on the flipped side – if it’s very dark turn the heat down.

5. Fry on the other side for 40 seconds to 1½ minutes, again depending on the heat.

6. Remove from the pan and keep warm wrapped in a tea towel whilst you make the others. Repeat using up all the batter to make about 8 pancakes.

If you can’t eat them all then just place them between layers of greaseproof paper to stop them from sticking and keep them either in the fridge or freezer. Don’t save the batter uncooked, there are too many raising agents added for that. Serve with fresh fruit, maple syrup or just as they are.

Fluffy Sweet Potato Pancakes

Makes 12

Ingredients:

• 220g carrot (2 large)

• 140g sweet potato (1 medium sized)

• 130g halloumi cheese (or other hard cheese)

• 3 cloves garlic, crushed or very finely chopped

• 175g self raising flour

• 1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda

• 1 tsp ground coriander

• 1 tsp ground ginger

• 1 tsp salt

• 1 tsp ground black pepper

• 110mls milk

• 2 large eggs

• 10mls lemon juice (from a bottle or fresh)

• Olive oil for frying (about 6 tbsp)

1. Preheat the oven to 180C/gas mark 4. Find a large baking tray and line with non stick baking parchment.

2. Top and tail the carrots, grate and place in a large bowl. (I don’t bother to peel mine). Peel the sweet potato, grate and add to the carrots. Grate the cheese and add to the bowl.

3. Add the garlic, flour, bicarbonate of soda, ground coriander, ginger, salt and black pepper to the bowl of grated ingredients. Stir well with a metal spoon until everything is well covered and distributed.

4. Lightly whisk together the milk, eggs and lemon juice with a fork. Add to the dry grated mixture and stir well with a metal spoon until the batter is completely mixed. Have a good dig about at the bottom as flour tends to hide there.

5. Heat 2 tbsp olive oil in a large non stick frying pan over a medium heat. Add heaped tablespoons of the batter to the pan. (I managed four in my pan at a time without them touching).

6. After a minute use a slice to lift the pancake up and check how well done the underside is. You’re looking for golden brown. If it’s still too light then leave to fry a little longer. Once the underside is golden brown flip each pancake over.

7. Fry for a further minute, squashing the pancake down a little with the slice, then check as before for a golden brown colour. Remove the pancakes once fried on both sides and place on the lined baking tray.

8. Repeat stages 5, 6 and 7 until all the batter is used up. Remember to add more oil each time.

9. Once all the pancakes are fried make sure they’re arranged in one layer and bake for 20 minutes.

10. The pancakes with be slightly puffed up and fluffy inside once baked. Serve immediately for breakfast, lunch or dinner with avocado, chilli, fried eggs or simply alone.

NB: These keep in the fridge for 3 days, well wrapped. Or freeze in bags separated by non stick baking parchment. Re-heat in a preheated oven at 180C/gas mark 4 for 15 minutes before serving (slightly longer from frozen). Remember, if feeding these to under 1’s then leave out the salt.

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If you’re still reading, here’s a few little ads from me. If you’re interested in sourdough starter, stories of how women have navigated divorce and cute jewellery then keep scrolling:

Did you know I sell my sourdough starter? If you’re in the UK you can buy it here.

From baking to… divorce:

I have physical copies of my book about divorce available here and if you wanted to get a copy immediately it’s always on Amazon as an ebook here.

Oh and if you’re after some jewels may I recommend mine and Scott’s little Etsy venture? Take a look over at our shop here. Lots of really affordable bits packaged up by yours truly.

Over and out!

I am interested in understanding my own and other’s beauty boundaries. What I mean by this is the invisible line we all draw around what we will and won’t do in the pursuit of a face we don’t shirk away from, a body that feels in our control. Me, I like to think of myself as not too vain, but I think, given I am now closer to 50 than 40, it’s time to be truthful and accept that I am vain, but also that my self-imposed laws around what’s acceptable and not are rooted in snobbery and classist beauty standards. God, what an admission.

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I’ll start with what I don’t find acceptable, purely to spark the maximum amount of outrage straight off the bat.

It’s a No From Me

1. Face Filler. That pillowy faced, pushed up chipmunk cheek doughiness that makes your eyes look like little piss holes in the snow? Nope, not for me thanks. I don’t want to look ‘done’, though I’m aware this is absolutely the happy pursuit of some.

2. Lip Filler. Now, if mother nature had given me extremely thin lips I might feel differently, but I’m not sure I would. Maybe I’d just get clever with lip liner. I’m not into the bee stung lip look. Again, it looks too done for me. I’ll be moving on from filler now you’ll be pleased to hear.

3. Eye Brow Lamination. I can’t unsee slugs. And I once stood on a slug barefoot in the middle of the night in my slummy Mile End, East London kitchen. NO THANK YOU.

4. Gastric Band. General anaesthetic feels a step too far for me when it comes to chasing a smaller arse. I reckon if I didn’t have kids I might be persuadable on this front, but I can’t reconcile the idea of dying on the table (catastrophising… me?) and leaving my sons motherless because I’m a glutton. Also; I have a horrible suspicion I’d be one of those post op-ers who’d use my Nutribullet to blend Snickers bars. I like what I like and a smaller stomach could become a challenge for a girl like me. (NB: aware for many a band is a life saving procedure from early obesity related death).

5. Buccal Fat Removal. I just plain don’t understand this. Removing volume from your face seems like a very short sighted approach. You’re hopefully going to age and progress past 30, and well, all that chubby-cheekness is going to reduce naturally. I don’t want to look like a skin covered skull.

6. Talons. Very long, pointy and hard to lead a normal life with false nails aren’t for me. How do those women do anything? Can they type? Can they smooth clay at pottery club? Can they have sex without causing a life changing injury? I don’t get it.

Before we move on to my yes list it’s time for a brief ad break:

Did you know I sell my sourdough starter? If you’re in the UK you can buy it here.

From baking to… divorce:

I have physical copies of my book about divorce available here and if you wanted to get a copy immediately it’s always on Amazon as an ebook here.

Oh and if you’re after some jewels may I recommend mine and Scott’s little Etsy venture? Take a look over at our shop here. Lots of really affordable bits packaged up by yours truly.

How cute is the packaging?

Okay. Ad break over. Let’s get back to my ‘yes’ list.

Yes Please, Sign Me Up

1. Hair Extensions. Can’t afford them, definitely don’t have the stamina for the upkeep but if I could, I would. I’ve never had thick, voluminous hair and I’d adore it, I’m sure. I’d swish it about and flick it into people’s faces on the bus. I’d fashion it into a very thick fishtail plait and shop in John Lewis for hair products.

2. Eye Lash Thickening Serum. I have pathetic lashes, they’re short and stubby. Years ago I tried one of these serums and can report they DO work. But you have to apply them daily and I’m just not very good at this kind of commitment. I don’t like the look of fake lashes (too done - see above list) so I’ll just have to cope with poor lashes.

   If in future you want to hear what I have to say about things other than beauty (I almost never write about this stuff fyi) then sign up below using the handy subscribe button. You can be a free subscriber and get access to LOADS of content. There are over 230 pieces of writing on here already:

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3. Mounjaro. I’ve written about this extensively if you want to forage back through my posts. It’s a game changer but you have to follow the instructions. A brief low down: keep the dosage low for as long as you can, track protein and calories, eat loads of fibre, drink lots of water, lift weights. Don’t try to lose weight super fast or you’ll be left with sagging skin on your face, arms and thighs. Unless this is what you want, in which case fill your boots, or rather your syringe.

4. Yoga. In my opinion there’s nothing that ages your face and body faster than poor posture and stiffness. I can’t stand on my head or do anything whizzy but I am quite nimble since I started this habit 2 years ago. I also like to kid myself that I’m future proofing my mobility. We can but try.

5. Avoiding the Sun. I’ve been avoiding the sun most of my life. I wear sunglasses almost year round to shield my super sensitive peepers. I love a large sun hat that has press studs at the front to wrap around my neck. It also wards off bad men, because it makes me look deranged. I cover up. I don’t sunbathe. I seek shade. I’ve even had a hurried call from my GP to take vitamin D supplements. I’m a committed sun avoider.

Lastly I have my main trick behind a paywall because some things are just for me and my gang. Sorry to the free readers.

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Okay, it’s almost the end of January and I’m assuming you might feel a bit depressed from lack of money, sunlight, joy, you know, general January blues. I have two solutions for you that I can almost guarantee will make you feel a little less glum. Want them?

First off I have a spicy chicken soup recipe for you. I’ve been feeling pretty unwell over December and now January too. Finally I saw a GP last week after wondering when the plague might leave the house and was prescribed some antibiotics. They’ve already worked their magic. The throat scratching pain has gone, the shaking in the middle of the night has waned. The masked and quite unwell looking GP (female) suggested I might be burnt out and stressed and this could be key to why this illness has lingered for so long. Ha! Takes one to know one I’d imagine. I assured her I would supplement her prescription with self-medication of rest, ginger, honey and chicken soup.

This recipe is my version of an excellent Sainsbury’s Taste the Difference spicy jerk chicken soup. I hesitate to describe mine attempt as ‘jerk’ so I will just call it spicy. It’s good and it has definitely helped my stuffed up nose. Here is a not very good photo of it, and yes I know my boyfriend is a food photographer but he hasn’t got time for my non commercial soup. He’s busy taking pictures of UPFs.

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Spicy Cold Busting Chicken Soup

Serves 3 - 4

Ingredients:

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• 2 onions, peeled and finely chopped

• 1 tsp sea salt

• 1 tsp ground cinnamon

• 1/4 tsp ground cloves

• 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg

• 1 tsp dried thyme

• 1 tsp ground allspice

• 1 tsp paprika

• 1 tsp cayenne pepper

• 2 tsp freshly ground black pepper

• 2 tbsp sugar

• 7 cloves of garlic (look, I have the plague okay?) peeled and chopped

• large thumb of ginger, peeled chopped

• 1 red chilli, roughly chopped

• 1 x 400g tins good quality tinned tomatoes (I used cherry tomato ones from Lidl)

• 3 carrots, peeled and diced

• 1/2 butternut squash, peeled and diced (I didn’t have any sweet potatoes and would have used these in preference of squash, but hey, life is adaptation huh)

• Leftover roast chicken

• 400g tin of cooked beans (turtle beans if you have them), drained and rinsed

• A handful of long grain rice

Heat the oil in a large pan on a very low heat, add the onions and salt, fry for 20 minutes until really soft and starting to become translucent. Add the rest of the dried spices and herbs along with the sugar and stir well. Blend together the garlic, ginger, chilli and tinned tomatoes with four tomato cans worth of tap water. Add to the pan along with the carrots and squash. Stir, add a lid and simmer on a medium heat for 40 minutes. Add the chicken, beans and rice, stir well and heat for a further 15 minutes, add more water if you prefer a thinner soup. Check the rice is cooked through before serving with a spoon and some tissues.

BRIEF AD BREAK ALERT:

Did you know I sell my sourdough starter? If you’re in the UK you can buy it here.

From baking to… divorce:

I have physical copies of my book about divorce available here and if you wanted to get a copy immediately it’s always on Amazon as an ebook here.

Oh and if you’re after some jewels may I recommend mine and Scott’s little Etsy venture? Take a look over at our shop here. Lots of really affordable bits packaged up by yours truly.

Second up I have more of a social prescription. Ready? Come on, it won’t take long and then you can happily ignore it if you wish.

It’s something that I warn you, might make you feel a bit ‘nope’. Hear me out before you dismiss it. So, recently I began my Homestart training and in just one whole day of sitting in a too-hot, strip-lit room, learning about what Homestart does and who it helps and why it’s important, it came to me! (Actually, it came back to me, a muscle memory from previous volunteering experiences). If you’re feeling a bit rubbish, what you really need to do is help someone else.

It’s hard to write about this without sounding trite, but the times in my life I’ve helped the local community have been when I’ve felt most connected, most lucky in my own little life, most useful. I’ve always gotten more from it than I’ve given. Volunteering is never wholly altruistic. That’s not to say it’s ever been a perfect experience, on some level it’s frustrating and that’s okay, it’s part of the process. I think it’s good for everyone to be annoyed. If life is devoid of obstacles and irritations you tend to look for them in places where they don’t exist. That way unhappiness lies.

I think volunteering is seen (at least in the UK) as a bit of a privilege. The past-time of the busibody retiree, of a certain class, poking their noses into other people’s businesses, with certainly not enough to do. I think maybe that reputation comes from the face of volunteering mainly being charity shop assistants. Many folks simply don’t come into contact with volunteers otherwise. Last week I counted only one retiree in the training group. There was a real cross section of society in the room. One single mother living in social housing and on benefits, another a carer of a disabled child. One person had grown up in care and been referred to Homestart when she became pregnant herself as a teen.

Now maybe you’re thinking you don’t have time to volunteer. I hear you. Life is busy and costly. Who has time to ‘work’ for free? But you do, you do. I bet you do. Maybe not 2 - 3 hours a week commitment (that’s what Homestart ask of you) but perhaps an afternoon a month? What about that? Or even one day every few months? Think about it. Could you give away some of your scrolling time or TV time? What if you were promised it would make you feel full in the pit of your stomach, more satisfied than a roast dinner and even make you sleep better for a week? A re-frame from work to a salve.

Here are some ideas:

1. I have to start with Homestart of course. For those with parenting experience, you’ll be paired up with another parent to offer a couple of hours a week to help. It might be that the Mum (it’s usually a Mum) needs a wing-woman to attend a playgroup with, it might be that she needs help playing with her toddler whilst she feeds her baby, she might just need someone to make her a cup of tea and listen, or help tidy the kitchen, or just be there. The type of support you give is broadly at your discretion.

2. Perhaps visiting a child living in care might suit you? Did you know that every child in care should have their own ‘independent visitor’ (IV), someone who wants to see them (usually once a month) because they enjoy their company. (A previous child in care described their IV as the only person in their life who wasn’t paid to hang out with them). There’s a budget available to take the child for lunch/swimming/to the zoo etc. One statistic I found stated only 5% of children who should have an IV actually had one. The time requirement is 3 -4 hours per month.

3. Have you heard of ‘gleaning’? I hadn’t until my younger pal F enlightened me. It’s basically where volunteers harvest crops for farmers that would otherwise go to waste. These crops are then redistributed to the community, with the volunteers usually getting to take home what they might personally use too. There’s more info here. Highly seasonal as you might imagine.

4. If children and onions aren’t your thing maybe marshalling a Parkrun might work? Perhaps you’re a dab hand with a knot or a camp-fire? Or maybe spending time with those who’re needing a hospital stay? Or for history buffs there’s the National Trust? Or perhaps you’re excellent at being a friendly non-judgemental face to a family needing a food bank? As always, google has more ideas.

Anyway, there you have it, soup and soul on a Friday afternoon.

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Look, I couldn’t not wade in, could I? Not after my viral (for me) Beckham marriage red flag piece. Is there anything to say that hasn’t been said? Dunno, but I’ll have a go in the form of a translation service.

NB: Any point of view expressed in this piece is purely alleged.

(Brooklyn’s statement in italics and an interpretation underneath).

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I have been silent for years and made every effort to keep these matters private. Unfortunately, my parents and their team have continued to go to the press, leaving me with no choice but to speak for myself and tell the truth about only some of the lies that have been printed.

I have married into a billionaire’s family. The uber rich keep things to themselves. I’ve been doing my best to fit in, but my new money parents have forced a public response by involving the press and embarrassing me with my in-laws. So I’m talking to them in the only way they understand; publicly.

I do not want to reconcile with my family. I’m not being controlled, I’m standing up for myself for the first time in my life. For my entire life, my parents have controlled narratives in the press about our family.

I’ve been monetised since I was in utero and I’m exhausted. I had no choice in this (and once you’re Beckham famous having a ‘normal’ life is nigh on impossible). The world my parents constructed was their fantasy and I had to play my role, always being ‘on’. I’m burnt out from this child labour.

The performative social media posts, family events and inauthentic relationships have been a fixture of the life I was born into.

Key word: inauthentic. I am not referencing their brand deals with aftershaves they don’t like or wear. I’m talking about their marriage. My parents marriage is a sham. My Dad is unfaithful and my Mum is on the edge of a breakdown at all times.

Recently, I have seen with my own eyes the lengths that they’ll go through to place countless lies in the media, mostly at the expense of innocent people, to preserve their own façade. But I believe the truth always comes out.

My parents didn’t like me marrying into a substantially richer family than them, because they knew once the financial ties between us were removed, their bargaining power would die. So they sought to kill the relationship.

My parents have been trying endlessly to ruin my relationship since before my wedding, and it hasn’t stopped. My mum cancelled making Nicola’s dress in the eleventh hour despite how excited she was to wear her design, forcing her to urgently find a new dress.

My mother deludedly thought by cancelling my wife’s wedding dress last minute it would ruin our day. But her family are billionaires so it didn’t work. They made some calls. Valentino returned them.

Weeks before our big day, my parents repeatedly pressured and attempted to bribe me into signing away the rights to my name, which would have affected me, my wife, and our future children. They were adamant on me signing before my wedding date because then the terms of the deal would be initiated. My holdout affected the payday, and they have never treated me the same since.

My parents registered my catchy alliterative name as a trademark upon my birth. I have always been a commodity to them. When I tried to leave The Firm they wanted their brand name returned. Probably worried I would sully my mother’s eponymous fashion label with my entrepreneurial endeavours. I refused because my name is mine. They can’t have it even if it’s caused them to lose money with their business backers.

During the wedding planning, my mum went so far as to call me “evil” because Nicola and I chose to include my Nanny Sandra, and Nicola’s Naunni at our table, because they both didn’t have their husbands. Both of our parents had their own tables equally adjacent to ours.

My mother has never liked her mother in law, Nanny Sandra, so when we put her on the top table she lost the plot. I’ve done a lot of therapy since being in the US and think this is likely because my Dad will unconditionally love his Mum forever which my Mum is jealous of. Mum thinks Dad stays with her for being thin and tolerant of his affairs. She is terrified he might leave her.

The night before our wedding, members of my family told me that Nicola was “not blood” and “not family.” Since the moment I started standing up for myself with my family, I’ve received endless attacks from my parents, both privately and publicly, that were sent to the press on their orders.

My brothers and sister were told to try one last time to put a stop to the wedding by my parents. I feel sorry for my siblings, especially my little sister, as I think they’re just used as foot soldiers, so I haven’t named them here.

Even my brothers were sent to attack me on social media, before they ultimately blocked me out of nowhere this last Summer.

Sadly my brothers went public with their feelings so I have named them here, but to be clear, they blocked me, not the other way around as was reported.

My mum hijacked my first dance with my wife, which had been planned weeks in advance to a romantic love song. In front of our 500 wedding guests, Marc Anthony called me to the stage, where in the schedule was planned to be my romantic dance with my wife but instead my mum was waiting to dance with me instead.

I’ve omitted that Marc Anthony announced the groom would be dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room; my mother. Not my wife. I’m leaving this out to save my wife’s blushes.

She danced very inappropriately on me in front of everyone. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable or humiliated in my entire life. We wanted to renew our vows so we could create new memories of our wedding day that bring us joy and happiness, not anxiety and embarrassment.

I have been my mother’s surrogate partner since birth. Her emotional dependence on me heightens whenever she gets wind of my Dad’s latest fling. She is physically suffocating, draping on me, holding me, wrapping herself around me. It makes me uncomfortable and was really confusing when I was going through puberty. Her doing this in public made me realise just how serious her enmeshment is. Every guest was talking about it instead of what a wonderful day it was.

My wife has been consistently disrespected by my family, no matter how hard we’ve tried to come together as one. My mum has repeatedly invited women from my past into our lives in ways that were clearly intended to make us both uncomfortable.

My Mum pimped my ex-girlfriend out to my younger brother in an attempt to provoke my jealousy. Didn’t work. Just made me feel sad for my brother and ashamed of my Mum.

Despite this, we still travelled to London for my dad’s birthday and were rejected for a week as we waited in our hotel room trying to plan quality time with him. He refused all of our attempts, unless it was at his big birthday party with a hundred guests and cameras at every corner.

I want a private relationship with my Dad, but it must include my wife.

When he finally agreed to see me, it was under the condition that Nicola wasn’t invited. It was a slap in the face. Later, when my family travelled to LA, they refused to see me at all.

Reject my wife, reject me.

My family values public promotion and endorsements above all else. Brand Beckham comes first. Family “love” is decided by how much you post on social media, or how quickly you drop everything to show up and pose for a family photo opp, even if it’s at the expense of our professional obligations. We’ve gone out of our way for years to show up and support at every fashion show, every party, and every press activity to show ‘our perfect family.’ But the one time my wife asked for my mum’s support to save displaced dogs during the LA fires, my mum refused.

We were willing to play ball and offer public support if it was a two-way street. My wife supporting an animal charity was as important to her as my Mum’s fashion label is to her, but the former was deemed not worthy or ‘on brand’. We have travelled all over the world supporting my Mum’s business. She couldn’t even give a shout out on insta in return.

The narrative that my wife controls me is completely backwards. I have been controlled by my parents for most of my life. I grew up with overwhelming anxiety. For the first time in my life, since stepping away from my family, that anxiety has disappeared.

I was raised by two very controlling people so yes, control is familiar to me. It feels like home. But this time it’s my choice.

I wake up every morning grateful for the life I chose, and have found peace and relief. My wife and I do not want a life shaped by image, press, or manipulation. All we want peace, privacy and happiness for us and our future family.

Leave me the f*ck alone.

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Translation service over. Opinions on a comment please.

Also, enjoy this little dancing montage from the brilliant Nighty Night. Can’t think who is reminds me of.

BRIEF AD BREAK ALERT:

Did you know I sell my sourdough starter? If you’re in the UK you can buy it here.

From baking to… divorce:

I have physical copies of my book about divorce available here and if you wanted to get a copy immediately it’s always on Amazon as an ebook here.

Oh and if you’re after some jewels may I recommend mine and Scott’s little Etsy venture? Take a look over at our shop here. Lots of really affordable bits packaged up by yours truly.

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It’s January and it occurs to me that even the most ardent drinkers might use this month to cut down or abstain. Me? Back when I was a drinker, I used to laugh in the face of Dry January. ‘Giving up’s for quitters’ I’d guffaw as I poured another 1/2 pint of red. I am also a January baby and given nobody has any money by the end of the month, nothing but nothing could have prised that wine glass out of my hand.

Above: Me, in my drinking years, being a bit of a d*ck. The guy I’m talking to is the founder of Innocent smoothies. I think you can safely say I liked the cut of his jib.

These days I am sober. I am so sober I tell people. Does this ever go away? The old joke goes that you’ll know when you meet someone ‘in recovery’ (sorry, a bit LA for me, but let’s try it on for size) because they’ll tell you. It’s true. I tell everyone. Any opportunity. Want to meet up for a coffee? Yes sounds good, just so you know I don’t drink. Dinner? Brilliant, but I’ll be driving because I don’t drink. Uni weekend reunion? Count me in but just so you’re aware… yes, you got it, I DON’T DRINK.

Why do sober people do this? When I was a boozer my inner response would go something like this:

1. Why are they telling me they don’t drink?

2. Do they think they’re morally superior?

3. They’re not.

4. Do they know how boring they are?

5. Do they know I think they’re boring?

6. Don’t trust sober people.

7. Need to find an excuse to cancel, can’t hang out with sober people.

8. Why do other people have to ruin things?

I’m aware this doesn’t paint me in the best light, but I think it’s important to be honest. And this confession is part of why I tell people up front that I don’t drink. Because I know! I KNOW. I’m aware of how drinkers think because I used to be one. I’m especially aware of how problematic drinkers think. If you agree to hang out in a restaurant or a pub with a heavy drinker and don’t tell them you’re sober until you order that first pineapple juice/fizzy water/cup of tea then you’re playing with fire. Drinkers want company to support their favourite hobby. They do not want the company of someone who reminds them that drinking can become problematic.

But there’s another reason I tell people I’m sober. It’s because I simply can’t believe it. Every single day it shocks me that I am not grabbing some ice to make a super strong G & T or pouring that soupy, warming red juice into a bulbous glass. How did this happen? How did I do it? I am in awe of myself. I am riding life completely raw and without a crutch! I mean, seriously, can you even imagine? It’s terrifying. I have nothing to fall back on. It feels like I am living life on the very edge. I like it. I’ve always been drawn to extreme experiences. I’ve cage dived with sharks and thrown myself off a mountain paragliding, but neither of those adventures have anything on this.

Plus, now I’m SOBER I get more time. Not because I think I’ve cheated death through my sobriety, god no. It’s that I’m ever alert, awake earlier, never tending to a hangover, not preoccupied with the volume of wine in the house or if the holiday let has a pub nearby or when the shops close. I’m never irritated if my sons need collecting. In fact I picked one up from his girlfriend’s at 1.30am on New Year’s Day and that was just fine and dandy with me. Being sober (hey, did I tell you I’m sober?) means I am simply freely living my life without all the drudgery, the alcoholic load if you will, of heavy drinking. Being a boozer is hard work I tell you.

So if you’re reading this as a drinker and having zero emotional response, the likelihood is you’re not a problematic boozer. If you’re irritated, feeling judged, replaying some of the bad memories, well, look, maybe give sobriety a go. Oh and for paid subscribers, after the ads below there’s a list of the top 5 worst things I’ve done whilst under the influence. They’re bad.

If you want to subscribe then you can do so below for free or for the price of a coffee per month. (Or half a bottle of cheap plonk).

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BRIEF AD BREAK ALERT:

Did you know I sell my sourdough starter? If you’re in the UK you can buy it here.

From baking to… divorce:

I have physical copies of my book about divorce available here and if you wanted to get a copy immediately it’s always on Amazon as an ebook here.

Oh and if you’re after some jewels may I recommend mine and Scott’s little Etsy venture? Take a look over at our shop here. Lots of really affordable bits packaged up by yours truly.

Okay. Ad break over. Now for the juicy bit. My top 5 worst memories of drinking:

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Look, I had plans to write before Christmas but sadly my immune system had other ideas.

I knew it was coming at the ice rink. One son surprised the hell out of me by wanting to go to a last minute skating meet up with school friends. I’ve gotten used to not attending these things, so offered it up as a kind of possibility but with the safety of 99.999999% knowing we’d be watching TV and drinking hot chocolate in our PJ’s by 6pm. Well, turns out people change and he absolutely wanted to go, despite not being able to skate. Forty five minutes later and he could, in fact, skate! Who knew. (And also don’t kids learn things fast? Lack of ego perhaps?)

Anyway, whilst standing at the side of the rink and considering how Christmas would look with one child in a cast (never knowingly under-catastrophised), I felt that familiar twitch in my nose. You know the one. That tingle, that to the uninitiated, an aliens perhaps, might feel quite pleasant. Like your airways are completely clearing from the inside out. But we know that’s not what’s going on, don’t we? It’s the beginning of the end. It’s not a purging of germs, it’s the ingestion of plague. If I were better organised I’d have been carrying Vicks First Defence (not an ad) but alas, I was not.

I won’t bore you much longer with the tale of my Christmas plague but essentially I’ve had the flu. Five full days in bed followed by another few downstairs wrapped in a duvet, moaning a lot. I am a dreadful patient. I’ve had a lot of time to ponder why this is. It’s definitely not about relinquishing control, which is a relief. I am more than happy to let everyone crack on and contribute to the running of the house. I love delegation and am not one of those who’re disappointed when others don’t complete tasks ‘my way’, well not unless their way means non-completion. Weaponised incompetence is deeply manipulative and ugly. It’s also not about the fear of being lazy. I love doing nothing in particular. I’m very good at pottering, squandering time, bitting and bobbing about. It’s a skill.

I think I’ve worked out what the issue is. It’s the thinking time. I do not want to spend 24 hours in a day with only my own thoughts and memories for company, save for the cat and tissues. It’s too intense. I’m too intense. I don’t want to replay every embarrassment, every slight, every rejection, every moment of shock, jealousy, shame. It’s too much. In no particular order here are just some things I have replayed in my head during this bout of The Plague:

• The time I was sitting on a bus on the way back from the Liverpool University English Society Ball held at an aquarium, and I realised the girl in front of me was slagging me off. Albeit, without realising I was behind her. That realisation she was talking about me and the decision to tap her on the shoulder and say ‘hi, I’m really not that bad’ will haunt me forever.

• How I nursed a relatively new boyfriend over a number of weeks after a hernia repair went wrong and burst (in Ireland, on the 4am drive to the airport!) and he made a big deal of thanking me and saying how grateful he was to me for staying in Ireland and visiting him every day in the very religious and 1950’s style hospital and then later on in the UK when he returned to his mother’s home and was (poorly) nursed there. How he promised me a spa day at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel as a thank you. And how I’ve still never been there some 23 years later. Why do people promise these things? I hate that. I’m very literal. If you say you’ll do something, just do it. Or don’t promise. I don’t even like spa days but that’s not the point.

• The unbooking of my appearance on a Christmas edition of a TV cookery show after I had paid for a dress to be made for the occasion. I never wore that beautiful dress. It ended up in a charity shop. The booking had apparently been a mistake.

• The bouncy castle I bought on a whim from eBay, deciding it would be cheaper to spend almost £1000 on a castle and use it for every child’s birthday than to hire one at £100 a pop. Turns out bouncy castles are very heavy, we have used it twice and it is now rotting in the garden storage vessel.

• All the men who weren’t terribly interested in me but I spent hours and hours thinking about, talking about and chasing. Ugh. I wish for that time back. And apologies to all the friends I bored. Limerence is an affliction.

• The drinking disasters of my twenties. Too many to detail. Too awful to detail. I am a better person for sobriety that’s for sure.

• Resigning from a much loved job and fully expecting my boss to counter offer against the new company and then him wishing me well and discussing my notice period being shortened. Ouch.

• That time a student told 15 year old me, at about 11pm, outside the Leicester city clock tower branch of McDonalds, that I had a pretty face but fat knees. That boyfriend who drunkenly told me I had a fat back. That boyfriend who said if only I lost a stone I’d be perfect. These men - what do they look like now I wonder? One is dead, so that’s a fait au complet, but the other two? Come on, let’s see you.

Anyway, there’s plenty further brain worms of woe, but I think that’s more than enough, don’t you? And tell me, is it just me who goes down these rabbit holes? Is there a way to delete these memories? A factory re-set? A Control, Alt, Delete of the brain? ARGHHHHHHH!!!

Why not subscribe for free, or even the paid option for the monthly cost of a coffee… or if you like this but don’t want anything else in your inbox, why not share it instead? That’s always very welcome.

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One good thing to have come from this time is an idea for a new little ‘thing’ I’d like to trial. It’s essentially a postal version of a newsletter but with added nice things added in for good measure. As it’s a fledgling idea at the moment I’d like to offer it up to paid subscribers for free as a one off. The idea is that you send me your postal address and I will post out a little letter to you. It’s not something for you to reply to, or to pass on (remember chain letters?!), just, hopefully, a pleasant bit of post to receive that isn’t a bill or a flyer. It asks nothing of you. Hell, you can even bin it if you want, though don’t tell me, I’m a sensitive soul (see above).

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I think for the first month and given this is new to me I’ll limit it to 50 people just to see how it goes. If you want to be included then firstly make sure you’re a paid subscriber (you can become one above), and then secondly send me a DM with your postal address.

That’s it! Expect something at some point in January, I can’t be more specific due to current plague infection. Over and out.

Oh and mince pies too. Oh god, this is escalating. There I was feeling all smug that I wasn’t going to be running myself ragged this Christmas and already there’s a day’s worth of baking on my to do list. Honestly, I shouldn’t go around proclaiming I’m a reformed character to all and sundry should I?

Anyway, if you would like to see the recipes I use year in, year out then read on. If not, I’ll meet you back here some time next week for a chat about something less domestic. Okay?

If in future you want to hear what I have to say about weight, parenting, love, grief, marriage, divorce, DIY, crafting, neurodiversity, popular culture etc etc (recipes too) then sign up below using the handy subscribe button. You can be a free subscriber and get access to LOADS of content. (The really juicy stuff is behind a paywall). There are over 250 pieces of writing on here already:

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My Very Best Mince Pies

Makes 12 with lids or 18 with star tops

Ingredients:

• 250g plain flour, plus extra for rolling

• 50g icing sugar

• 125g cold butter, cubed

• 1 large egg, beaten

• about 450g mincemeat

• 100g flaked almonds

• 3 tbsp alcohol of your choice if you’re so inclined – amaretto, Baileys, brandy, whisky, cherry brandy

• Egg wash (1 egg beaten with a pinch of salt)

• Icing sugar to dust

Make the pastry in the food processor by pulsing the flour and icing sugar together. Add the butter and pulse again until you have a fine breadcrumb consistency. Add the egg and pulse a few times until the pastry starts to form clumps. Do not keep processing until you have one mass or you will have overworked the pastry and it’ll be as tough as old boots. Use your hands to carefully scoop the pastry into a ball and then wrap in clingfilm and chill for 1 hour. (Alternatively you can make by hand – simply mix the dry ingredients, rub in the butter with your fingertips until you have breadcrumbs, then add the egg and pull together with a blunt knife).

Prepare your filling by mixing together the mincemeat, booze and flaked almonds. Of course you could add whatever you fancy. Paul Hollywood likes adding fresh clementines to his mince pies, Nigella I seem to recall likes cranberries – just do as you wish. And if you happen to hate almonds then yes, you can use a substitute nut. Think about lightly toasting the nuts in a dry frying pan though as it imparts much better flavour.

Dredge your work surface and rolling pin with flour and roll the pastry out to a thickness of about 3mm – try not to use a see saw motion, instead roll away from yourself and then turn the pastry by 90 degrees with each turn. Cut 12 circles using a 9cm cutter and push gently into the holes in the tin. Add a heaped teaspoon of filling, then roll and repeat until the tin is full. Gently squeeze together the remnants of pastry and re roll to cut 12 lids of the pastry using a slightly smaller cutter. Paint one side of each circle with egg wash and push down onto the open mince pies gently, to seal. Repeat until all the mince pies are assembled then paint the lids with more egg wash, being careful not to let it spill down the sides of the pies or it will help solder the pastry to the tin. Use a sharp knife to cut two little openings about 1cm long into the lid.

Bake in a preheated oven at 180C/gas mark 4 for about 15 – 20 minutes though do check to ensure your pastry isn’t burning. They should be lightly browned when ready and the pies should ease out of the tin to be cooled on a wire rack. Whilst cooling, dredge with icing sugar. Use a small sieve if you have one though I am a fan of a tea infuser for this purpose.

A word of warning about filling spillage. If it does ooze over the sides of the pies then you must get the baked pies out of the tins ASAP. Do not let them cool – this involves risking mincemeat burn in the process, for boiling hot mincemeat does smart when it touches your fingertips. If you leave them to cool, they weld to the tin and have to be chipped out using DIY instruments. If this happens don’t cry (I have in years gone by), just crumble the remains all up in a dish and either eat or stir into slightly softened vanilla ice-cream. Then tell everyone on Christmas Day you made festive ice cream to go with the Christmas Pudding. Eat your heart out Nigella.

NB: You may have a few bits of pastry left. Discard as it’s be overworked and tough.

A Very Forgiving Christmas Cake

Ingredients:

• 150ml Lady Grey tea (Any old tea will do, I just like the orangey smell of Lady Grey.)

• 3 tbsp sherry

• 3 tbsp brandy

• 225g glacé cherries

• 115g dried prunes, each chopped into 3 pieces

• 840g raisins

• 230g self raising flour

• 90g ground almonds

• 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg

• 1 tsp mixed spice

• 80g dark muscovado sugar

• 145g castor sugar

• 225g butter (I would say leave out of the fridge to soften but it might be better to leave it in the fridge if your house is as icy as ours.)

• 6 eggs, lightly beaten

Right then, the day before baking the cake (or the week before for that matter) put the cherries, prunes and raisins into a large bowl and add the hot black tea, sherry and brandy. Give it a good stir and then cover with clingfilm and leave in a cool place. (Not the fridge though.) The fruit will soak up the liquid. You can give it a stir every now and again if you can’t leave it alone like me.

On the day of baking the cake, butter a 20cm round cake tin and then line both the bottom and the sides with baking paper making sure the paper peaks over the top by about 5cm. You can also wrap the tin in a double layer of paper (using string) to make it completely burn proof. Preheat the oven to Gas 2/150C/300F and get to work on the soaked fruit.

Take half of the boozy tea soaked fruit and purée it in a food processor/liquidiser then mix back into the remaining half of the fruit. Mix the flour, almonds, nutmeg and mixed spice and add to the fruity mixture. Give it a good stir with a wooden spoon. It should feel stiff.

Cream the butter and two types of sugar together either by hand (eek… no thanks) or using a mixer. Then add a tiny bit of the egg at a time and mix after each addition. If the mixture does curdle, which happens to everyone let’s be honest, then add a spoon of SR flour and it’ll right itself. Once all the egg has been mixed in pop the whole lot on top of the fruity mixture and stir it together until it looks combined. Spoon into the cake tin and smooth the top to make sure it’s level then put into the middle of the oven.

Bake at Gas 2/150C/300F for 90 mins, then turn the heat down to Gas 1/140C/275F and bake for a further 1.5 - 2 hours. You need to check the cake about 40 minutes before the end of baking by plunging a skewer (or thin knife if you don’t happen to have one) into the middle and checking for uncooked cake mixture. If it is clean, it’s cooked, so take it out and cool on a wire rack. My cooker took 3 hours in total to bake it but they’re all different aren’t they?

Once it’s cool, wrap in greaseproof paper and then foil and store in a cool place until you’re ready to ice it. You can ‘feed’ the cake booze from now until Xmas by poking holes it in and spooning in teaspoons of brandy/rum/tipple of choice.

Cherry & Pecan Christmas Pudding

Ingredients:

• 50g sultanas

• 400g glacé cherries

• 300g pecan nuts

• 70g fresh white breadcrumbs made from rubbing together two small brioche rolls

• 1 tsp mixed spice

• 100g molasses sugar

• 200 ml Lady Grey tea, still warm (OR JUST ANY TEA!)

• 100ml milk

• Butter, for greasing

• 100g self-raising flour

• 1 large Bramley apple, grated (you can substitute for grated carrot if you don’t have an apple knocking about)

• 250g vegetable suet

• 4 eggs

Put sultanas, nuts, cherries and mixed spice into a large bowl. Add the breadcrumbs, spice, sugar, tea and milk. Mix with a wooden spoon, cover with cling film and chill overnight.

The next day, mix everything else into the fruit and nut gloop. Butter either 2 x 1-litre pudding basins or 10 small pudding basins. I tend to make one large pudding and a few little ones as a compromise. John Lewis have some great small metal basins that are perfect. Fill each basin three quarters full then cover in the traditional way. (A double layer of buttered on the basin side down, pleated in the middle, greaseproof paper then tied with string just under the rim. There is no way I can do this without the help of a child, it’s very fiddly. If you need instructions check out youtube).

To cook just pop an upturned saucer into a large saucepan and then sit the big pudding on top. Pour just boiled water into the saucepan until it comes to halfway up the basin. Cover the pan with a lid and bring back to the boil. Then simmer for 5 hours, checking periodically that the poor pud hasn’t boiled dry. If it’s in danger of this add more boiled water.

To cook the little puddings, preheat the oven to Gas 4. Put the puds into a roasting tin and add boiling water until it comes to half way up the sides of the pudding basins. Cover with foil and bake for 2 hours altogether.

Once cooked remove from the pan/oven and let cool. I then tend to pop in the fridge (at back/bottom where they can be forgotten about) until Xmas but another cool, dark place is fine. You can also freeze them. Just defrost before reheating. Oh and to reheat you need about 2 hours steaming for the big ones and about 1 hour for the small ones in pan or oven depending on which size you went for. Same heat as before.

Serve with brandy butter or cream or custard or if you’re 2, ice cream.

Christmas Frangipane Tart

Ingredients:

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A little housekeeping: Please don’t comment or send me DM’s telling me all the risks of taking GLP-1 drugs unless you have read everything I have to say on the matter on this substack, it’s a waste of all our time. Same goes for if your research consists of reading some Daily Mail first person pieces about ‘my Mounjaro hair loss hell’ etc. I love these pieces too, but they’re not research, and neither is a meme on Instagram.

This is my second MJ Christmas, though last year I had come off it abruptly after a neck lump scare, which turned out to be nothing. So actually this Christmas is my first as an MJ microdoser.

Now I am known for being a more is more Christmas celebrator. Back in my more sociable days, before having a neurodivergent child, a litigation induced breakdown and that small matter of lockdown reducing my friendship circle to the mighty few, I used to host quite good parties. One year when I worked in advertising in London, I volunteered to host the account management Xmas do at my Balham flat. It was hailed a success given it didn’t finish until the wee small hours and involved the collapse of a double bed. Imagine!

Then as a newly wed recent mum I hosted Christmas parties at home more than once. Half a Stilton, truck loads of mince pies, wine by the gallon. I was easy breezy, ‘come on in and don’t worry about your shoes!’, I was also a very heavy drinker and I liked the company. If you were willing then so was I. I’ve never knowingly under catered a party in food or booze. One year I even made homemade goodie bags of truffles, toffee, fudge and peppermint creams drizzled in chocolate. I have a small scar on my right thumb where the fudge spat at me. It’s a lifelong reminder that being extra isn’t always a good thing.

The thought of hosting similarly now makes me feel a little clammy and sick. I just don’t want people here in my little sanctuary of candles and animals. I like my calm. But up until recently I still went big on Christmas gifts, homemade festive food and the usual rituals of tree decoration, Christmas dinner menu writing by the kids and finding the perfect Christmas Eve family film. These things all mattered to me. As did embroidering the Christmas table cloth with this year’s menu, written course by course by my sons. An heirloom of the future in my tinsel addled mind.

Now it’s no surprise to me that taking MJ has made my interest in all the festive food prep wane. In Christmases past I convinced myself that making a Christmas cake for us and every other bugger who’d shown an interest was a GOOD tradition and that people liked it so IT MUST BE DONE. Same for making Christmas puddings for all and sundry. Same for making deranged amounts of mince pies with homemade mincemeat and homemade pastry. I felt this work was important and expected and worried that the children needed to have these memories of spiced baked goods so that one day that too might go on to create a similar world for their own sons and daughters.

Why?

I don’t know why.

For posterity? To create a little magic? To allow them some adult nostalgia when they become parents?

I’ve done a grand total of none of these things so far and not one person has mentioned them. Maybe it wasn’t the other buggers who wanted any of it after all? Maybe it was my own private self induced hell? Who knows my motivation of yesteryear, but MJ has removed my 2025 appetite for baking these treats as well as my desire to bestow them upon others. What I think I am trying to say is that MJ has made me less needy.

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Now it’s well known that GLP-1 drugs are being used off label for mild addiction issues. People have been reporting feeling less inclined to drink, to smoke, to take some drugs (weed especially). It seems that GLP-1s are capable of removing that need to fill yourself up both literally and metaphorically, they remove the crutches we rely on. And so, predictably, I don’t feel an urge to get shit faced over Christmas in order to connect with friends. Less predictably, this year I don’t feel the need to buy present upon present to demonstrate my love for my family, and that is HUGE for me as a woman whose love language is gifting.

On Saturday I did the annual putting all the presents into piles to make sure one child doesn’t feel less loved thing, and well, there wasn’t a lot of anything to be honest. I’m not purposefully being all Scrooge, and they are definitely going to receive some lovely bits, but there’s less filler. Less guff. I don’t feel the need for it. Could it be that MJ has reduced my appetite for crappy food and crappy present buying and crappy ‘wife’ work (like the Christmas home making I used to bust myself with)? Let’s go one further, could MJ be the answer to quell rampant consumerism? Good lord, I’d better calm down.

I think it might be even better than that; is the very drug that so many feel is morally wrong for women to take, given it makes us smaller, reduces us to a more palatable socially acceptable size etc (Clover Stroud wrote a brilliantly explorative piece on her feelings about MJ and Ozempic, read it here), could it be that this awful, awful thing is actually allowing women to get on with doing what they jolly well like? To hell with the cooking, the cleaning, the tea making, the gift wrapping and the ferrying great aunt Elsie to and from her home. Maybe the meh-ness we injectors feel towards food is extending to all those other self-soothing, making-ourselves-useful habits? Maybe it might leave us free to complete our life’s work, whatever that may be. I feel as excited about that as I used to feel about cheese.

So this year I will not be sending out 30 Christmas cards to receive 10 back (“oh we made a donation to charity”… did you bollocks), I won’t be filling my own crackers with carefully chosen bespoke tiny gifts, I won’t go ‘mad’ as some relatives have referred to my festive exuberance in the past. Instead I’ll make a nice roast, give less gifts and probably read a book or two whilst I work out what my life’s purpose really is. Because I’m bloody sure it’s not self-imposed domestic servitude.

If in future you want to hear what I have to say about weight, parenting, love, grief, marriage, divorce, DIY, crafting, neurodiversity, popular culture etc etc then sign up below using the handy subscribe button. You can be a free subscriber and get access to LOADS of content. There are over 230 pieces of writing on here already:

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Thoughts? Come on… tell me!

(NB: If you’re not British, or in fact, not British and interested in social climbing, I ought to explain that every year a man called Nicky Haslam (above) decides what is common, prints this on a tea towel and offers it for sale. This feels extremely meta in my opinion. I mean come on, a tea towel? Using the word common? My very posh friends don’t trouble themselves with either of these words).

(The above tea towel is a previous edition).

Anyway, if what Nicky Haslam has to say about being common IS of interest to you then here is his list for 2025:

• Leg room

• Energy

• ‘The Speccie’

• Nobel prizes

• Couture trainers

• ‘Bits and bobs’

• Wordle

• Role models

• Bums on seats

• ‘The countryside’

• Storm names

• ‘Siblings’

• Kilner jars

• ‘Growth’

• Lanyards

• Nduja

• Stephen Fry

• ‘I’m a hugger’

• Air fryers

• Sun block

• Stonehenge

• Roberts radios

• Celebs on Gogglebox

• Locking your car in your drive

• Travelling instead of going

• Biomass anything

• Dan Snow

• Striped socks

• The BBC’s forced jollity

• Press the hash key for more options

• Beefeaters

• Matey-ness

• Anne McElvoy’s opinions

• That’s a great question

• ‘Jacket’ potatoes

• Clapping the chef

• ‘What’s not to like’

• Sudoku

• Death threats

• ‘Let’s have a little listen’

If you’d like to spend £40 on a tea towel with this handy list on, you can buy a limited edition one here.

Me? I won’t be buying one. But I have decided to publish my own list of things I find posh. Common is of no interest to me, as I was born a commoner. Posh? That’s more like it. I’ve been a social tourist since that day in 1988 when my primary school teacher Mrs Walton told my mother ‘Holly isn’t like the other children, she has university in her sights’. You didn’t have to tell me once that I might be able to hoik myself out of my parent’s story of leaving secondary modern at 16 without any qualifications save woodwork CSE. I was a child possessed, intent on a disappointing future of dating men called Piers who’d attended Eton but were actually quite thick with a penchant for wearing rubber at the weekends.

Please note: There isn’t a ‘what Holly finds posh’ tea towel available to purchase YET, scrap that I have made one available to order here, but given I am edging towards selling old worn shoes on eBay to fetishists these days, I’m not ruling it out. A girl’s got to fund her Nicky Haslam tea towel habit somehow.

This is reader supported, which means that the more of you who subscribe the more time I can spend writing. If that sounds like a good thing then there’s a handy button below. There are free and paid options. Asking you to pay no doubt makes me very common, but I don’t care because that £3.50 means I might one day eat less ‘jacket’ potatoes and make Nicky very happy indeed. No pressure:

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Anyway, enough. On to my list:

• the ‘loo’, not the toilet

• old and scratched family signet rings (men) worn on the ‘pinkie’

• borrowing furniture from relatives

• not understanding supermarkets (men)

• the King’s Road

• the same hairstyle from cradle to grave

• Newcastle and Exeter uni, depending on grades

• Mummy and Daddy, not Mum and Dad

• good posture

• speaking accented, perfect French

• riding, boot rooms, betting, the races ie/ HORSES

• having a party, when in fact, one is just gathering some friends in a pub

• coming from Scotland without an accent

• having two ovens, an Aga in the main kitchen and a gas variety in the store kitchen

• not knowing what a ‘utility’ room is

• red chinos and mustard cords (men)

• pearls from age 16 (women)

• shooting (not people, birds)

• driving an old, very beaten up and muddy VW Golf

• insisting not being cold despite the inside temperature of their home being 15C

• having a liberal attitude to fidelity (“Oh Jonty is such a card, he only went and bonked Minty at the regatta again, he’ll never change, still what can one do!?”)

• a gap ‘yerrrrh’ as a chalet girl/digging wells in Africa (for the chaps)

• a Nanny is a paid member of staff, not one of your grandparents

• ‘town’ (London) Monday to Friday, elsewhere for the weekend

• loving your dog more than your child

• an heir and a spare

• being extremely tight

• alcoholism

• owning more than one black lab (as in Labrador) or working dogs - other breeds unacceptable

• triple milled slightly cracked French soap, not liquid soap in a pump bottle

• fountain pen hand written thank you notes on very thick card

• finding puerile things funny, especially farting

• having zero embarrassment about anything to do with the toilet, sorry, loo

• skinny dipping

• making light of seriously awful things, for example; “Mummy’s been given 2 months to live which is obvs a total shocker and really really bad luck but at least she’ll get to use her Glyndebourne tickets”.

• knowing everyone

• cricket not football

• calling Tetley/PG Tips/English breakfast tea ‘builder’s’

• giving all friends a nickname, even if rude (eg, a friend with prominent teeth being called ‘Bugs’)

• going into politics being a genuine and easily achieved career option

What do you think? Am I right? Are you posh? Can you help us plebs add to the list. Answers on a comment below.

My boys are too long in the tooth for the three huge boxes of decorations stashed in the garage. I could, I know, just carry on regardless. Decorate the house, dim the lights, carve the pumpkins and don my witch’s hat. But I won’t. There’s something very sad about those mums who can’t let go of the younger years. And who knows, it could be the thin end of the wedge; one minute insisting on a spooky party, the next cutting their food up at dinner time, referring to them as ‘mummy’s little soldier’ and naming their socks age 30. I shudder at the thought. We’ve all known those guys. I think I dated a lot of them.

I often write about these awful men I’ve dated. You can read about them here, here, here, oh god there’s loads. Whilst you’re at it, why not subscribe?

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Anyway, I digress. For those of you who have been around for a while, you’ll remember when my boys were young and I used to make all manner of spooky themed food for the annual Halloween party. Well, I’m here to share some ideas with those picking up the baton.

Before we go any further, if you’re not into fashioning food into shapes, then may I suggest just buying a tray of cheap ring doughnuts and stringing them up for the kids to play ‘eat the doughnut without using your hands’. It’s extremely funny and provides at least 15 minutes fun for children and adults alike. Here are my sons when small playing this in my boyfriend’s studio:

For the rest of us who like to play with our food, come on, ready? Let’s go:

1. Bugs in ice

   

   …so easy and yet so well received by the under 10’s. You could freeze spooky rings, necklaces or spiky false teeth too. Obviously supervise very small children so that they don’t choke and shout at the top of your voice ‘the bugs aren’t edible!’. You know the drill. It’s not I’m a Celebrity…

2. Jelly worms in dirt

Now I know that jelly worms have caused a few people some trouble. Here are mine; they happen to be nestling on a spiced apple cupcake covered in Oreo ‘dirt’. Full details of how to make them below.

I used two packs of regular full fat jelly to make my worms. Just make up the jelly with half the amount of water it tells you to on the packet, then pour the jelly into a pint glass with lots of bendy straws jammed into it, bend side down, with the bend bit pulled apart and fully extended, but still straight. Leave to set overnight in the fridge, weighing down the tops of the straws if they’re bobbing upwards.

The next day fill a tall container up with half boiling water and half cold water. Remove a straw from the pint glass (makes a satisfying squelching sound) and then dip into the water for 1 second. Use your finger and thumb to squash the straw at the top (non bendy end) and push your finger and thumb pinched together all the way along the straw to push the worm out onto a plate. First time I did it the water was too hot and the worm melted. Poor worm! Experiment with the temperature of the water until your worms happily squash out without meeting a sticky end. I made about 35 worms I think with two packs of jelly but could probably have made more if I’d had more straws to jam into the pint glass.

If you want to make Oero ‘dirt’ you will make your life inordinately easier if you buy double chocolate Oero cookies with dark chocolate cream in the middle of the biscuits rather than the white stuff. This way you just blitz the lot in a food processor and the dirt is done. If you buy the variety with white cream then you need to remove this first and then blitz the biscuits. What a pain. I attached the dirt to the cupcakes by simply melting some milk chocolate and spreading a thin layer over the top of a cupcake. Then I dipped the still molten chocolate covered cake into a bowl of Oreo ‘dirt’. Done. You can of course use any excess dirt to sprinkle onto jelly’s and adorn with bugs:

3. Token novelty fruit

   

   And if you want to introduce fruit to a Halloween party without going to the trouble of apple bobbing then try these extremely optimistic snacks. Similar to the tray of carrot sticks offered out at every kids party; destined for the bin, untouched. But if it makes you feel better they’re very easy, just peel a satsuma and add a small stick of celery to the middle. Ta-dah!

4. Pepper brains

   

   Of course anything as healthy as a naked satsuma may need a savoury accompaniment. How about pepper noodle brains? No recipe - you can work it out.

5. Mummy sausages

   

   Of course, Halloween wouldn’t be Halloween without a sausage disguised as a Mummy with the aid of some pastry strips and an olive or two for eyes. You can make your own pastry if you like (300g plain flour, 150g butter, rub in, then tiny bit of cold water to bind, then chill for an hour wrapped in clingfilm before rolling), or just buy it.

6. Bloodshot eye truffles

   

   And last but not at all least, maybe try my bloodshot eyeball truffles. See if you can swallow them whole, pupils and all…

   Makes about 28 but really depends how large you make your eyeballs.

   Ingredients:

   • 300mls double cream

   • 1 tsp orange essence/extract – (you can use any flavouring you like – booze if not for kiddies for example)

   • 100g dark chocolate

   • 200g milk chocolate

   • 400g white chocolate

   • Fondant icing pack of various colours - in the baking aisle

   • Gel food colouring in red or red icing tube

   This is easy. Put the cream into a small saucepan with the orange essence. Heat on the hob until just starting to bubble away. Remove and add the dark and milk chocolate which you’ve broken into squares. Beat with a whisk until smooth. Pop in the fridge to harden for about 2 hrs. (I make this part in the morning and come back to it later – there’s no point watching truffles solidify, so to speak.)

   When you’re ready to make the truffles pop the white choc, in broken squares, into a microwavable bowl and melt for about 1 minute until smooth. If your microwave is powerful then blast in 10 second shots as white choc burns easily. Stir until completely smooth then set aside (not in the fridge) until almost cool but still molten. This bit’s important.

   In the meantime make your truffle balls. Get a little production line sorted. You need a big plate for popping the truffles on by your side. Take a large teaspoon of mixture and roll between your palms into a ball shape and then pop on the plate. Repeat until all the mixture has gone. This bit is messy by the way. You can use some leftover Covid era gloves if you want.

   Grab a large piece of greaseproof paper and place on a platter or chopping board. When the white choc is almost cool (and it really can’t be warm or it’ll melt your truffle and you’ll be left with a pool of white choc and truffle mix only good for spooning straight into your mouth… oh hang on…) take a teaspoon and pop your truffle into the white choc, make sure it’s covered by spooning the choc over it gently, then remove, let the excess choc drain and place on the greaseproof paper to dry. Don’t worry if a bit of the dark choc truffle shows through – you can double dip some of the truffles to overcome this once they’re dry, or just live with it as it adds to the Halloween style effect in my opinion. Continue to dip all the truffles and leave to dry. Don’t wash the white choc bowl up – you need it!

   Make the pupils and iris’ by taking a small blob of coloured fondant icing (I used green and red) and rolling into a ball. Then take a smaller blob of black fondant icing, roll into a ball and squash into the coloured blob, then gently squash onto a small piece of greaseproof paper to make them flat-ish. Peel the greaseproof paper off gently and then using a little of the scrapings of white choc attach to the truffle. I attach to the top to stop the iris sliding off.

   Lastly take the red gel food colouring or red icing tube and use to make the blood shot bit of the eyes. You can use a paintbrush and red liquid food colouring if you like but it won’t have that really shiny blood clot effect.

   NB: If you store these in the fridge the choc might develop a ‘bloom’ – white mottled effect. They’re still fine to eat, just look a bit less pretty.

So, there you have it. My top Halloween ideas. You’re welcome.

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I hated football then and I hate it now. (So many reasons… another time). And I was a little too old for Girl Power, with the Spice Girls coming up just as I was taking my A Levels. They were aimed at little girls really, us late teens were already damaged goods, we knew who held the power and it definitely wasn’t us. I watched them with interest. I liked what they stood for, even if the line up felt formulaic. I scoffed at the pen portrait character band members created by their management team. As if a woman could be reduced to their hair colour, their anger (let’s be honest this was a racist nod to skin colour, no?), their penchant for athletiwear, their innocent babyish niceness or their social class. We’re all these things and more, every single one of us. Was that the very point? As the youth of today say, maybe it’s just not that deep.

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Anyway, I have come here to have my say about Victoria Beckham because I am really worried about her. Now some of you will remember when I wrote a piece about Meghan Markle and my concerns that her management people secretly hate her and are trying to ruin her. I was accused of bullying, hating Meghan, not understanding American cookery programmes (!) and much more. The piece went Viral For Me. Well yes, I’m here again to stick my nose in where it’s not required. As usual, any claims here are ‘alleged’ and this is only my point of view. Your view may be different and that is good, variety being the spice of life and all that. (Though you’re wrong).

Here goes, my top ten red flags from the Victoria Beckham Netflix documentary and beyond:

1. The crux of the issue is actually laid out by David himself. He said in the early days of their clandestine relationship he wanted to tell everyone he was dating a Spice Girl. He fell in love with the dream, a creation if you will. When reality bit he was left with a mere woman. Remember what Rita Hayworth said? That ‘every man I knew went to bed with Gilda, but woke up with me’.

I think it’s also worth noting that their love affair began as a secret. Not that they were cheating on anyone, but they were keeping it from the media. This made things exciting; hiding things gives you a dopamine hit. But what goes up must come down. When they went public those undercover meet ups were no longer required. It got boring. This dynamic also set up the media as the third wheel to their relationship, their original true love.

2. The opening scene of Dave intermittently blending a smoothie (in a branded machine) every time Victoria speaks seems innocent enough to the untrained eye. It’s just a joke! He’s being silly! Yeah yeah yeah, it’s more than that I guarantee. He is using the guise of a prank to tell her that she isn’t worth listening to. She’s less important than blended vegetables. She can’t complain or she can’t take a joke, she can’t stop him or she’s being the fun police. She has to smile along and go with the flow whilst this small act of indifference feeds her inner voice that she is not worthy. Victoria, when someone shows you who they are, listen.

3. Now look, relationships change, we can’t be stripping off constantly and snogging willy-nilly or we’d never get anything done. BUT affection should be a constant. There’s something really unpleasant about the imbalance present with the Beckhams. In Victoria looping her arm around Dave’s whilst his hand remains in his pocket, in her going for a hug and only being given half body contact, in his refusal to put his arm around her, to literally and metaphorically protect her. This was a theme throughout the documentary, him not reciprocating her physical contact and it’s sad. Remember, this is supposed to be the sanitised very best version of their presentation as a couple. Imagine what it’s like when the cameras aren’t rolling.

   

   

4. Dave reveals information about Victoria to make her less likeable to the public. He corrects her, tries to portray her as dishonest. He’s not on her team. His comment in his own documentary about her being driven to school in a Rolls Royce became a meme.

   

   But he wasn’t quite telling the truth, was he? That little snippet makes us think Victoria was hiding a childhood of mansions and pony clubs and ski chalets. Not so. Victoria’s Dad made his money as an electrical wholesaler. Victoria has explained “I came from a working-class background and so my dad in the 80s, he was an entrepreneur, he started his business with my mum at the kitchen table and he did very well, so he bought himself a Rolls-Royce.” I think Dave might be confusing money with class. In England (for international readers) you can be upper class and not have money, just as being uber rich does not make you upper class. Victoria’s dad had a white van as well as his boy-done-good Rolls. Now in some other countries money does equal class and I think Dave knew this when he said it, being well aware of the global reach of Netflix. His comments on class are I think actually his veiled jealousy at her upbringing versus his. Dave’s Dad is well known for having been both verbally and psychologically abusive to his son to push his sporting prowess. It’s no surprise that his parents are no longer married. His childhood home was definitely more humble than Victoria’s too. Here they are outside her home:

   

   And this is where Dave grew up:

   

   I think he’s jealous of her family. I think he knows when things go wrong she has a place she can go to for total and utter unconditional love. I also think that secretly her parents dislike him. Just a hunch.

5. There’s nothing that makes the general public hate a woman more than being thin, actually scratch that, they HATE a thin woman who actively tries to stay that way. Now, being thin but also one of the guys who eats loads of ice cream and drinks cans of beer and is just ‘so lucky’ to not put on weight is allowed, admired actually. Pursuing thinness openly through exercise and calorie restriction is not. Dave offers Victoria a chocolate bar in the opening scenes of the documentary, knowing full well she won’t take it. He’s said more than once that his wife doesn’t eat his food, he’s moaned about it knowing she has an eating disorder. In an interview on the River Cafe podcast in 2022, he shared: “I get quite emotional about food and wine, when I’m eating something great I want everyone to try it. Unfortunately I’m married to someone that has eaten the same thing for the last 25 years.” He went on to say that Victoria ‘only eats grilled fish’ and ‘steamed vegetables’ since they got together. “She will very rarely deviate from that. The only time she’s probably ever shared something that’s been on my plate was actually when she was pregnant with Harper and it was the most amazing thing. It was one of my favourite evenings. I can’t remember what it was but I know she’s not eaten it since.”

   So favourite he can’t remember? Yeah right. He’s telling this story to paint a negative picture of Victoria, whilst gilding himself with a halo of loving to share food with his wife. Let’s all remember anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric disorder, yet he’s publicly moaning she won’t enjoy his culinary efforts! I mean he could just be thick and ill-informed…

6. Whilst we’re on the subject of her anorexia, I think it’s very easy to say that the British media of twenty years ago led to her insecurities and subsequent restriction issues. Undoubtedly they played a huge part, but there’s more going on here I’d say. Is she chasing perfection as part of a ‘pick-me’ dance maybe? Is she not trying to be the tiniest smallest little girl she can be for Dave? Dainty and fragile and through this shouting out PLEASE LOVE ME! I think he and his behaviour are the ongoing trigger.

7. Which brings me to Dave’s alleged affairs. Now look, I used to work in advertising in London, I dated a guy who was a producer for sports radio, I socialised with people who were Beckham adjacent, God I used to work on the same floor as the girl who went on to be their PA for years and years. It was an open secret that Dave was allegedly playing away regularly.

   There’s something not right in the way they interact. He seems to be tolerating her. Their chat in the last episode at his house is like a meeting between a boss and his employee. The balance of power is unequal and I do wonder if this could be down to his alleged affairs? If her wasting away is down to his alleged affairs? If her neediness with her eldest son (the interruption of his first dance at his wedding) is down to his alleged affairs? There’s this gaping chasm where love and respect are missing.

8. Now when Victoria and Dave met she was very much the more famous, the better looking and the more financially successful. As Dave himself said, she bought Beckingham Palace, not him. She took Dave on as a project, like a used car. She did him up! Look at him:

   

   He’s kind of goofy, no? I’m not naïve enough to assume that when Dave bailed out the Victoria Beckham fashion business he just transferred some money from his personal account to hers. People with their wealth have money tied up all over the place, in trusts, limited companies, stocks and shares, buildings, so yes, I am sure there was a discussion about where the money would come from BUT this whole her having to go to him with a begging bowl says so much.

   Their money has come from their brand, their relationship, not just from him. The whole ‘his money, her money’ thing is a nonsense, it’s their money. Yes, they needed to sit down together and decide if the VB label had a tenable future, but her now feeling she needs to prove herself to him because he gave her money, like a little girl trying to impress her father? Sheesh. The power balance is f*cked. Let’s not forget that if or when they divorce, it will be all their money, to be split with a starting point of 50% each, for this is how it works in the UK. (Victoria, if you’re reading, I will happily send you a copy of my book about divorce, loads of good advice from other women in there and a few pointers on how to spot if you’re married to a total prick. Shameless plug over).

9. Throughout the documentary Victoria looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Again, let’s remember that this is supposed to be showing her at her best. She has the same director as Michelle Obama had for her documentary ‘Becoming’ and yet she’s captured as a bit pathetic and needy. This isn’t an editing surprise for Victoria, the series was made by Dave’s production company Studio 99. Have they convinced her this is a positive portrayal? Has he? There’s so much wrong with the documentary but one of it's worst offences is that it’s boring. How has this been allowed to happen after the success of Dave’s series and her funny cameo’s in it? She’s not boring! And yet.

10. In the documentary we see Victoria about to enter the stage at the Spice Girls reunion tour. She looks extremely anxious and turns to David, asking ‘am I wearing enough make up?’ and his response? ‘More than enough’.

    Ugh, I didn’t like this. There’s an undertone of him thinking she’s overly made up, slathered it on with a trowel. Why not say ‘you look amazing’ or ‘you look stunning’ or just ‘you’re beautiful’. I did a bit of digging on this and it seems Victoria even wears make up in bed with Dave. He has never seen her without her eyebrows drawn in. As a woman who wore foundation to bed every night of my marriage I can tell you now, all is not well.

    

    I really hope I’m wrong. But if I am right I just hope Victoria gets out before it’s too late for her to enjoy her one wonderful life. I can see an alternative reality where she’s a power lifter with a fitness empire and a stunning girlfriend called Hope. And she always removes her make up before they retire to bed together. In fact most days she doesn’t even wear mascara.

    Anyway, the Dave bashing is over (for now). What do you think? Come on… spill.

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I have three sons, all of school age, all preferring a packed lunch. Two who also like to frequent the school cafeteria for cookies, gingerbread men, hash browns and the like. I am also on a budget. Aren’t we all? No, really, I’m solely financially supporting myself and three kids. Zero from their other parent, arrears of 11k and counting. I used to be ashamed of this. I only told my nearest and dearest and even then I glossed over it. But you know what, no more. It’s not my shame to carry. It’s ALL on him. My partner lives with us but he doesn’t pay for my sons because I won’t allow it. They’re not his kids, they’re not his responsibility. I feel strongly about this and he thinks it’s silly, but I’ve been burnt before, so it’s non-negotiable.

So, I send them to school with lunchboxes full of homemade goodies not just because it’s better for them, but because it stretches my income so that we can go to the cinema, have a nice Christmas, afford a dog and a cat who make our lives so much richer and funnier and happier. I also cook pretty much all our meals and treats from scratch, even ice cream. Little ever goes to waste. What I’m trying to say is, perhaps clumsily, that we all choose where we spend our money and where we don’t. So if allocating a day to baking and cooking isn’t worth your time and effort, if you’d rather use your cash to buy ready made lunches, I do not judge. I get quite a lot of pleasure from my Sunday batch cooking, which is lucky, huh? I’ve always thought I’d have been good at working in a takeaway. Producing the same portion sizes, the same quality, again and again.

Anyway, onward to the recipes. I did a little reel on instagram of last Sunday’s efforts, to accompany these recipes, but you don’t need to watch it. It’s just a bit of window dressing really.

So, every Sunday I make some or all of the following:

• 1 x roasted veg salad type dish for eldest son’s lunchbox and my weekly lunches, to have protein added to it each day. One batch lasts about 3 days, then I make another one mid week. The veggies can be batch roasted and then half frozen and added to a new batch to save even more time.

• Banana bread frozen in portions

• Orange/lemon drizzle frozen in portions

• Flapjack frozen in portions

• Cookies frozen individually

• Breadcrumbs using up any stale bread from the week, then frozen for making chicken Milanese or to add to meatballs, make stuffing with.

• Depending on where we are bread wise I might also make some sourdough. Keep one out for sandwiches and freeze the other. I use this recipe.

• Ice cream, if I’ve managed to find some reduced double cream.

• Yoghurt, depending on where we are using up the last batch.

• Individual low sugar jellies.

Now you may ask why my obsession with freezing all the treats in portions? Well, let me tell you why. If you bake a loaf of banana bread in this house with the idea it’s for packed lunches, well, the lunchboxes will be bare by Tuesday.

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I’m going to start with the sweet treats because I know why you’re here…

Banana bread

Ingredients:

• 200g plain flour

• 2 tsp baking powder

• 65g soft, salted butter

• 115g caster sugar

• 3 ripe bananas (I freeze brown bananas as and when and then defrost at room temperature when needed for baking with)

• 2 tsp vanilla extract

• 2 large eggs, at room temperature

• 200g dark chocolate, chopped

Grease and line a 2lb standard loaf tin and preheat the oven to 180C/fan 160C/gas mark 4.

Beat together all the ingredients apart from the chocolate for 3 – 4 minutes using a wooden spoon or a mixer, until well combined. Stir through the chocolate and tip into the loaf tin. Level with a knife and bake for 50 minutes – 1 hour until a wooden tooth pick comes out of the centre of the cake clean. Cool on a wire rack, in the tin. Once cold, cut with a serrated knife and freeze individual portions if you wish. I wrap in baking paper and foil.

NB: Can leave the chocolate out if you like or add dried fruit etc.

Cookies

Makes about 15

Ingredients:

• 115g butter

• 1 level tbsp maple syrup

• 170g self-raising flour

• 85g caster sugar

• 1/2 level tsp bicarbonate of soda

• 200g chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 190°C/gas mark 5 and line 2 baking trays with greaseproof paper. Melt the butter and syrup in a saucepan over a low heat until dissolved. Remove from the heat and add the flour, sugar, and bicarbonate of soda and give it a good mix with a wooden spoon. Leave the mixture to cool for a few minutes before stirring in the chocolate chips.

Using your hands, form handfuls of the warm mixture into balls about 4cm across, you should make about 15. Place them on the lined trays, making sure that there’s plenty of space for them to spread in the oven. I leave a 5cm gap between each. Bake in the oven for 12–15 minutes until the dough has spread into cracked looking biscuits.

If you like your biscuits with a bit of ‘chew’ (more cookie like) then take them out when only the sides are brown. If you like them crunchy then let the whole biscuit get a suntan. Let them cool on the baking tray for a few minutes then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Once cold, freeze with baking parchment to separate if you wish. These also make AMAZING ice cream sandwiches, used straight from the freezer.

NB: Chocolate chips can be substituted for dried fruit/white chocolate or just leave plain. Or add in orange zest etc.

Orange drizzle cake

Ingredients:

• 175g soft butter

• 175g caster sugar

• 3 eggs beaten

• zest of 2 or 3 oranges BUT NOT THE PITH! I use a microplane to grate zest as it’s a finer grate than a box grater so distributes better

• 3 tbsp whole milk

• 175g self raising flour

• juice of 2 or 3 oranges

• 50g caster sugar

Grease and line a 20 x 20cm tin with greaseproof paper. Use whatever size tin you have to hand, for a larger pan the bake time is usually less as the cake is less thick. For a smaller tin the bake time is usually longer. You’re looking for the edges of the cake to be pulling away from the sides and for a skewer to come out of the centre clean.

Preheat the oven to 170C. Check the rack is in the centre of the oven. Mix all the ingredients together, apart from the 50g caster sugar and orange juice, until really light and creamy. Takes about 4 minutes in a stand mixer. Pour into your tin, level with the back of a spoon and bake for 20 – 25 minutes until golden on the top and a skewer comes out clean from the middle.

Leave to cool slightly on a wire rack still in the tin and then make the sugar syrup by heating the juice of 2 or 3 oranges with 50g of caster sugar in a small saucepan for about 2 minutes until the sugar dissolves and is just starting to bubble away. Poke lots of holes in your cake with a skewer and pour the syrup over the top, being careful not to let it all seep down the sides and drizzle the bottom of your cake only.

Then if you want to be a bit ‘extra’, lay out a large piece of foil, then on top of it a large piece of greaseproof paper – they need to be big enough to use as wrapping paper for your cake. Pick your drizzle cake up by the greaseproof paper it sits on in the tin and move to your wrapping paper. Then wrap your cake carefully, using the foil to fold the edges over. Leave the cake to cool like this. The heat of the cake and the orange sugar syrup combine to create the most moist sponge.

NB: Can make this with lemons too, use three.

Base flapjack recipe

Ingredients:

• 150g salted butter, cut into cubes

• 75g demerara sugar

• 120g golden syrup

• 300g porridge oats

Preheat the oven to 180°C, fan 160°C, gas 4. Grease a 20cm square baking tin and line with baking parchment. Melt the butter, sugar and golden syrup together in a large saucepan until smooth, being careful not to let it bubble. Remove from the heat and stir in the porridge oats. Pour into the baking tin and bake for 25 mins until golden. Cool in the tin, then refrigerate and cut when very cold. Cut into squares, wrap in baking parchment and freeze.

Variations: we like one I make with 2 tsp cinnamon, a little grated nutmeg, some pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, sultanas, orange zest and lemon zest. But really, you can add whatever you like. Another version that’s loved is with dark chocolate melted over the top. You can easily do this by adding it to the hot tray of just baked flapjack, letting the residual heat melt the chocolate. Use a knife to spread then carry on as before.

Ice cream/gelato

• 150g caster sugar

• 350mls whole milk

• 250g double cream

• 50g dark chocolate

NB: You can make this by hand but to be honest, it won’t be as good. You do need an ice cream machine. For years I had one where you freeze a disc that slots into the machine just before you use it. They’re really good value and work well. I do now have a compressor ice cream machine, so no freezing discs anymore. I picked one up second hand for about £70 I think. It’s amazing but of course it’s not for an occasional ice cream eater. My sons adore proper ice cream but to visit the local gelateria is a £25 trip for 5 of us, so the machine has paid for itself many times over already. I swoop on reduced double cream when I see it to make this an even more cost effective recipe. It is not better value than buying soft serve economy vanilla, but it is if you’re gelato lovers.

Place the sugar, milk and cream into a saucepan and heat very gently until the sugar dissolves. Leave to cool to room temperature. Place in the ice cream machine and set it working. In the meantime place your dark chocolate on a parchment lined baking tray, place in the oven on a very low heat for a couple of minutes until just melting. Use a knife to spread thinly. Then once at room temperature chill in the fridge. When set solid, break up with the end of a spoon. Stir until the ice cream and then place in the freezer to fully firm up. Remove 15 minutes before you want to scoop it for a more soft-serve gelato style pudding.

Roasted veg cous cous salad

Ingredients:

• 1 butternut squash, peeled and seeds removed and cut into 1cm chunks

• 4 celery sticks, cut into 1cm chunks

• 4 large carrots, peeled and cut into 1cm chunks

• 50ml olive oil

• 2 onions, peeled and diced

• 5 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped

• 3cm piece of fresh root ginger, peeled and finely chopped

• Pinch saffron, finely ground (NB: this was a gift, probs wouldn’t buy it especially)

• 1 tbsp freshly ground black pepper

• 1 tbsp sea salt

• 1 tsp ground cumin

• 1 tsp ground cinnamon

• 200g couscous

• 100g dried cranberries

Place the squash, celery and carrots into a large roasting tray, drizzle with olive oil and roast in a preheated oven at 220C/fan 200C/gas mark 7, for 20 minutes. Add the onions, garlic and ginger, stir, then turn the oven down to 180C/fan 160C/gas mark 4 and roast for another 20 minutes. Make the couscous by using a pestle and mortar to finely grind the saffron, pepper, salt, cumin and cinnamon. Pour into a casserole dish (that also has a lid), stir in the cous cous and cranberries. Pour boiling water over the top until the couscous is covered by about 1cm. Cover with the lid and leave for 10-15 minutes; the grains will plump up and become tender. Uncover and run a fork through it. Add the roasted veg and leave to cool before covering and refrigerating.

In the week I add a form of protein (roasted chicken/pan fried halloumi cheese/leftover beef kofta) plus some freshly chopped coriander. If it’s for me at home then some roasted flaked almonds too. Oh and some pomegranate syrup. I sometimes use couscous, other times quinoa, sometimes bulgur wheat. Depends. I mix up the veg too.

Breadcrumbs

My eldest son has a Saturday job in a café and we are lucky enough that his boss often gives him any leftover bread rolls at the end of the shift. They get used up for breakfasts and lunches, but on the off chance one or two go past their best, then I leave them out on the counter to go completely stale, then tear up and whizz in a food processor/Nutribullet. The resulting breadcrumbs are frozen until needed for stuffing/meatballs/coating various meats.

Yoghurt

I cannot describe how much yoghurt we get through. If I were buying it I reckon I’d spend £15 a week easily, probably more. Instead I do this; scald any almost past it milk until it’s 86C. Leave to cool with a lid on (for some reason this slow cooling makes for a thicker and more luxurious yoghurt) until it’s 33C, then whisk in 1 large tbsp of yoghurt from the last batch. Then I pour it into my multicooker (I have a Drew and Cole one - I have worked with them in the past, for full disclosure, but other multicookers are available etc) and set it to the yoghurt function. I think it takes 8 hours. Once ready I transfer to a Tupperware container and chill. It’s delicious.

Jelly

Seriously? Come on…

Though what I will say is that having jellies to snack on in the fridge feels like such a treat and is incredibly low effort. We all love jelly.

So, what about you? Any good lunchbox recipes to share? Come on…

Don’t shake your head at me! Don’t tut! Don’t think you’re better than all this… that middle class ‘ugh, I simply can’t abide Christmas decs (because I know you say ‘decs’) in the shops before the end of the hols (see above, I also know you say ‘hols’), I do HATE the commercialisation of Christmas blah blah blah’.

Unless you’re worrying the pews every Sunday at your local church then I don’t want to hear it. I’d also ask anyone who finds Christmas being discussed outside of December distasteful, to consider that for some poor buggers, Christmas has to be saved for from January onwards. It’s not Mark Warner Easter breaks and Aesop handwash in the ensuite for everyone you know.

So, in short:

1. Only thinking about Christmas in December is a luxury not afforded to those who are poor/share kids with their ex/work shifts etc etc.

2. The very best advent calendars will be gone if you want to order late.

3. Christmas is commercial, fact. Even Jesus received some pretty spenny gifts on his birthday.

4. I love Christmas!

Now, before we go any further I need to lay out my stall. I’m afraid you won’t find the low down on beauty AC’s (Advent Calendars obvs) the equivalent of a monthly mortgage payment here. I just don’t go in for high-end beauty even in the non-festive period. It’s not that I don’t love a bit of luxury pampering, it’s that I forget to apply it, so it sits in my bathroom cabinet and then about 2 years later I throw it away. Cue guilt and general self loathing for not being capable of applying body lotion like a grown up. I know, I know.

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Okay, the rules are clear, let’s crack on:

1. Craft Lovers

   This pink house clay offering from Pott-d looks fun and I’ll admit I was swayed by the box which is pretty gorgeous. Clay is marmite though, isn’t it? I love it, me.

   

   

   For those who are into less messy crafting I adore this garland AC for the simple fact it will be used every year. I like my AC’s to either be instantly consumable or ever-lasting. I know this probably says more about me than it should. Don’t worry, I’ve not imposed these rules on the rest of the round up.

   12 Days of Clay: Pott'd 2025 Advent Calendar – Pott'd UK - £49

   Pre-Order: The MakeBox & Co Advent Garland Calendar – MakeBox & Co. - £32

2. Knitters & Sewists

   Okay, so real true lovers of knitting and sewing will know it’s not a cheap hobby. The first offering is from the same folks as the garland above, except it’s £100. I know, I know… but look, you get to make and keep embroidered tree decorations with a 12 days of Christmas theme. And the packaging is just… chef’s kiss.

   

   This little offering below is a bit more Blue Peter. Definitely has a home made vibe and contains… wool. If this is too DIY in style then have a look at the Lauren Aston Designs AC below. Has wool AND patterns. This to me is the perfect balance of keepers and consumers in terms of content.

   

   

   

   

   

   Then of course there’s the profane and also more child friendly clothes/sewing label AC’s from Kylie & The Machine. These sell out fast so rush if you want one.

   Lastly another cross stitch offering from Innocent Bones. The contents are a surprise but if you look below I managed to find a photo of last years:

   

   Luxury 12 Days of Christmas Embroidery Advent Calendar - £100

   Milner Wool Calendar - £34.95

   Lauren Aston Designs Wool and Pattern Advent 2025 - £120

   Kylie & The Machine 2025 Sweary Sewist Advent Calendar PRE-ORDER – The Fold Line - £35

   Kylie & The Machine Non Sweary Sewist AC - £70

   Cross Stitch Advent Calendar 2025 | Innocent Bones - £105

3. Stationary Obsessives

   Look, I can’t lie to you. I covet one of these AC’s from Cult Pens. I’m of that age where a lovely fountain pen and some natty ink would make me a bit hot under the collar. The second offering I’ll admit I mainly heard about because the poor girl who owns the company was copied by someone else and had a bit of a nightmare last year. Photos stolen, ideas copied… it’s a huge issue in the creative retail industries as I’m sure you know. Lovely packaging and has a bit of a witchy vibe but without any spells or lucky heather.

   

   

   Cult Pens 2025 Stationery Advent Calendar Turquoise Edition - £95

   Martha Brooks Stationary AC - £109

4. Cheese Nibblers

   I can tell if you’re a true cheese lover. Do you know how? You won’t baulk at the cost of this. If you’re thinking ‘how on earth would one get through so much cheese on a daily basis’ this AC is not for you.

   

   Artisan Cheese Advent Calendar 2025 – Paxton & Whitfield - £150

5. Growers

   Seeds are pretty cheap - bog standard ones that is. But heirloom ones? They’re a bit more of an investment which is why this is priced as it is. Personally I’d hate to receive this as the stress of sowing the bloody things on time and then keeping them alive would make me wish I’d just had a 4th child instead. Less hassle. But you growers are into your seeds, you even swap them at libraries. (I’ve heard).

   

   Buy Heirloom Seed Advent Calendar | She Grows Veg - £70

6. Hot Drink Sippers

   There are MANY coffee ACs but I messed up one year by buying one for the boyfriend to be gently informed after the festive season that all of the coffee was in fact, stale. FFS! So I’ve chosen a smaller coffee company this time in the hope they won’t be stockpiling beans in such a vast amount.

   

   

   Last year I asked for the Yogi Teas AC which I loved very much. Though rather too many liquorice flavours for my liking, but hey. This year I reckon this AC from English Heritage looks just the ticket. It’s so British is hurts.

   Barista Cats Coffee Advent Calendar — Barista Cats £41.99

   Buy English Tea Advent Calendar Book | English Heritage - £15

7. Boozers

   We’ve had a few of these kind of ACs. The Brew Dog one is excellent. If you like cider this Bristol cider shop offering looks delicious. I was swayed by the packaging of the beer one. I am no longer a drinker so really I have no business commenting here.

   

   

   Craft Cider Advent Calendar - 24 days of cider | Bristol Cider Shop – Bristol Cider Shop Ltd - £89

   Hogs Back Brewery AC - £79.50

8. ‘Did I Tell You I’m Sober?’ Folk

   Ha ha - I tried to warn you above! Did I tell you though? Did I? It’s been over 2 years now. I like to tell everyone and anyone because, well, mainly because I still can’t believe I don’t drink. I was such a big drinker for so long it still amazes me. Do I miss it? Yes. Does anyone else miss me drinking? No. Anyway, this gorgeous charity cordial AC is right up my street. What a cute idea.

   

   Norfolk Cordial Limited Edition Charity Advent Calendar - £64.99

9. Toast Spreaders

   I treated my boyfriend to the Bonne Maman version of this a couple of years ago. He liked it. I think I liked the little jars more. This year I prefer this one for the bus shaped box. My sons were obsessed with buses when they were little, is this common? I think so.

   

   Tiptree Bus Jam Advent Calendar - £32.99

10. Spell Casters

    As I enter my hag years (this is not a slur… I love the word hag) I am becoming more into all this kind of nonsense. I’m still not at the point of waving crystals about but you know, never say never.

    

    witch gifts, Gothic, Spiritual and more | The Witches Keep - £24.99

11. Worthy Pamperers

    Now I know I said that I wouldn’t be show casing spenny beauty AC’s but this one has slipped through the net. Mainly because it’s less wrinkle busting and more body buttering. Plus EVERYTHING is full sized, which is one of my main issues with beauty AC’s. I don’t want travel sized jars and tubes. I just don’t.

    

    

    Into The Eve AC - £175

12. Sweet Tooth Owners

    You don’t need me telling you about Hotel Chocolat, do you? We all know what we like chocolate wise. However, I thought you might like to hear about a chocolate AC made by people with autism. It’s £50 from a company called Harry’s Chocs. And their chocolate has also won Good Taste awards, so you’re in good hands.

    

    Harry’s Chocs Slowdown Luxury Chocolate AC - £50

    And for those wanting sugar without the chocolate this lovely AC from Roly’s Fudge looks promising:

    

    Roly’s Fudge AC - £60

13. Aroma Junkies

    This is another AC I’d like to receive. I love a candle, me. Especially when it’s cold and dark outside. ESPECIALLY in the morning. More morning candles please! Below the Durance candle AC, is a wax melt one from Wonky Candles. Another business owned by an autistic person. They also sell aroma discs for vacuum cleaners which I may need to invest in given the amount of dog fur I in my life.

    

    

    Durance Advent Calendar Candles 2025 - £50

    Christmas Advent Calendars | Wonky Candles - £29.99

14. Listeners

    Now, this is a lovely idea for the more musically minded… a mini gramophone with festive songs. If you prefer a posher packaged AC the first one is from Fortnum and Mason, the second from the Carousel Shop. There’s £20 price difference and I can’t see that the contents are dissimilar.

    

    

    Gramophone Musical Advent Calendar - £55

    Vintage Style Mini Gramophone Musical Advent Calendar | Christmas Musi – Carousel - £34.99

15. Novelty Sock Wearers & Protein Bros

    I mean I may as well have called this ‘boyzzzz AC’s’. The sock one is extremely good value as it’s REDUCED to £20 for 12 pairs of White Stuff socks. Wow! That’s £1.67 a pair which is great as long as the recipient doesn’t mind Santa socks in June. The protein AC is not the same value sadly, but I reckon if your home is littered with chat about ‘PB’s’, ‘DOMS’ and ‘gains’ it will go down very well.

    

    

    White Stuff Men’s Sock Advent Reduced - £20

    My Protein AC - £68.99

16. Clever Types

    I don’t want a side order of education with my AC so I have never been a fan of this kind of thing, but I know some people enjoy a puzzle and a flex of the old brain box, so here goes:

    

    Science Museum Advent - £30

17. Traditionalists

    Ha! You thought this was going to be all mindless tat, more landfill, another reason to despair for humanity, well, you had me wrong! I have searched for some beautiful old fashioned AC’s featuring nothing but pictures. I still remember the joy of peeling open the advent window on 21st December 1986 to reveal a red and white striped candy cane. Extremely exotic American imagery for an East Midlands based child of the 80’s. It was almost like jumping into a John Hughes movie. Simpler times.

RSPB Paper Advent - £6 and Woodland Trust Paper Advent - £6.99

Sir John Soane’s Museum Paper Advent - £12

Ditchling Museum of Arts an Crafts Paper Advent - £14.99 and my personal favourite of the paper variety. It’s a reproduction of an AC designed in 1953, held in the Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft’s permanent collection. Behind each window is an illustrated image from the song ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’.

V & A Paper Advent - £12

Westminster Abbey Paper Advent - £4.95 - bargain! And mighty unusual, no?

Okay, I’m exhausted, I’m done. Over to you. Any AC’s to share? Or why not give a small gift to me by either subscribing for FREE or gain access to the juicy stuff behind the paywall by paying the equivalent of a coffee a month.

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I recently organised a sort of farmer’s market. I realised quite quickly into the process that describing it as a farmer’s market was an error. Even though I changed it swiftly, on the morning of the Body & Soul Market, a mere 2 hours before the doors opened, I was asked if either tofu or vegetables might be on sale. No and no. Less tofu and more tarot mate.

Anyway; here is what I learnt about organising a community market. And a few pictures to kick us off to give you an idea of what it was like:

Okay pretty pictures over (sorry about the resolution on some… nicked them off Instagram didn’t I?), let’s get down to the dirty truth:

1. Do not try to organise a market in 4 weeks. This seems like ages but it’s not. You need, I reckon, 3 months minimum. I am basing this opinion on very little, but what I do know about small makers is that they attend a hell of a lot of these markets so if you want the pick of the stalls, you have got to book up in advance.

2. Having said that, it’s well worth speaking to folks about what they get up to in their spare time. You might be surprised and end up with some really interesting stalls. This is how we ended up with a bee keeper and their candles/honey, some teenagers with their handmade gelato and even a knitwear designer and their (obviously) beautifully packaged and designed regenerative UK oat mixes. Turns out having a chat with people can be a really good way to find out what they get up to in their spare time. Who knew huh?

3. It is worth remembering that if folks haven’t had a stand before and if you haven’t organised a market before, and then if you are also selling bits on a stand too for the FIRST time, then that is A LOT and it would be well worth you making a little crib sheet of things for everyone to remember, including yourself. And it would also not be a great idea to attend a barre class on the morning of the market. You need that hour for organising and panic drinking coffee. Also you will be sweaty and paranoid about smelling all day.

4. Did you know there’s a table fee for having a stall at a market? No? Neither did I! It felt a bit greedy and anti small-maker in my opinion so we waived this fee and instead just asked for a refundable deposit. Would I do this again? I’d like to say yes BUT the admin side of organising a market is bonkers and you do need to spend real proper money on marketing materials like flyers and posters. This time the owner of the venue swallowed these costs but that’s probably not sustainable.

5. Which brings me to social media. Or rather the issue of living in an echo chamber. I spend a fair bit of time on Instagram. Mainly because it’s a way for me to share my writing, tout for brownie sales and generally interact with other humans. As someone who works alone and spends a lot time on my tod it’s useful. So because of this I assume everyone else is on Instagram. And even worse I assume they’re on it as much as me. So a few Instagram stories, a reel and a grid post mean everyone knows about the market, right? Well in my world that’s what it means. Not so! You need to post so regularly about your event that you get that sneaking suspicion you’re extremely annoying. Then do it more.

6. Live music is a boon if you can arrange it. But remember without a PA system it doesn’t carry. You need some kind of background music that is inoffensive. Not in a Coldplay/James Blunt kind of a way. That might upset some people. Perhaps borrow someone’s phone who is under 30 and looks like they might still go out on a Friday night. Then stream their playlist. Why? It just makes those first ten minutes of the market seem busier, meaning the fear doesn’t take hold. The fear is real and my good pal Bitsy tells me that everyone gets it, at every market, even if you’ve done 352 of them and always sell out. FACT.

7. People are terrible. Really they are, and I include myself in that generalisation. We’re all on the make, huh? So if you say there’s free stuff anywhere, people will come. What did we offer? A £5 voucher for a yoga class (bargain!), herbal tea - as much as you can drink (literally 3 people took us up on this) and a goodie bag. What was in the goodie bag? Sssshhhh! Stock we wanted to move; think incense sticks, crystals, worry dolls, little trinkets. Lovely bits and bobs, but they were taking up space, so why not spread the love and entice the masses in. Free things make people happy.

8. If you’re hosting a market for any reason other than just being a kind and generous person then you need to think about how you make the attendees work for you. I’m not talking about foisting a mop and bucket onto them. What they need to give is their email address. We had a little book with space to write their details in with a promise of an e-voucher. Now hindsight is a wonderful thing but the only reason so many people filled this in is because my boyfriend Scott kept reminding them. Thank the Lord for Scott. Which brings me to…

9. One person must just be the host. I had this grand idea that I’d be able to sell my own offerings, four other people’s offerings, organise every other stall holder and pop along and check in that everyone was okay. Ha ha ha. Cut to me at midday half in my stall holders outfit (a blue marl T shirt) and half in my barre outfit (very tight red leopard print leggings) mewing like a distracted and stressed Donald Duck, speed-sticking logos onto paper goodie bags and doing the wee dance. Don’t do what I did. Allocate one person to be the Market Mum.

10. Half the people will drop out. I didn’t want to mention this as I know some of them read here. Now look, it doesn’t matter what the reason is, and there will be Very Good Reasons, it’s just the way these markets are. It’s the reason you must charge for a stand or even just make folks pay a deposit. People will say YES! and DEFINITELY! and COUNT ME IN! and then when you chase them; sorry, can’t make it etc etc etc. Don’t get mad, don’t take it personally, move on and find another victim, sorry, stall holder.

11. Hydration is important. This goes back to having a Market Mum. Stall holders won’t remember to drink and then they’ll get ill after your market with a UTI and associate your event forevermore with a burning sensation. I exaggerate, but you know, just drink water.

12. Card machines are expected even if you’re just selling a few jars of homemade jam. I lost count of the amount of people who seemed genuinely shocked that I didn’t have a card machine. Look, I have no sympathy for these kind of folks. Imagine going to a scrappy indoor craft market and thinking Betty will have a card machine for her crocheted eyeball keyrings? Fools. But I’m afraid people are fools, so do warn the stall holders. And also on the money front, think about having 20 million times more change than you think you need. Those who do have the foresight to bring cash will try to buy a £2 scrunchie with a twenty pound note. Self service cash checkouts are your friend. Buy one item, pay with a note, go back round, repeat, ad infinitum for a month before the market. Be the stall holder with so much change you jangle as you walk.

13. There will be a lot of rubbish. So put it in the T & C’s for stall holders to remove their own crap. And also take a mop and bucket. Shoes are grubby.

14. Do not underestimate how much emotional support will need to be provided to everyone involved. It’s physically hard work organising and selling. People pick up your wares, sniff them, man handle them, then replace them in disgust. They might ask the price and baulk. They may look terrified if you speak to them. They might laugh at your offering. Fellow stall holders are your emotional support blanket. Look after each other, direct customers to each other if you’re not their jam but you know someone else is. Be an ally.

15. The last thing I learnt was how something as small and as insignificant as the organisation of a market can revive something in you that you thought died a long time ago. Cryptic huh? Okay, look, I’ve talked before about how my divorce changed me, or rather how litigation changed me. I used to be extremely outgoing, a bit loud, the person who always wanted to stay out longer, order another round, tell another story. Undoubtedly annoying, but hey. Then I had to go to court over my kids and my finances and it changed me forever. I had a

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