Review – My Mum Tracy Beaker

Like all Millennials, particularly those like me who didn’t tend to get out much, I grew up reading Jacqueline Wilson’s eclectic oeuvre of tragically depressing yet addictive stories about kids on the fringes of society. Maybe this is why our generation grew up to love Corbyn so much? That is definitely something that needs to be explored. But I digress. So yes, here I was, twenty four and way too old to be reading books with illustrations, but the announcement that there was going to be a new Tracy Beaker story immediately reverted me back to being ten years old and immersing myself in a great book for hours on end without the guilt of ‘I really should hoover today’ or ‘I should probably use this time to go to the gym’. Ah, youth.

As is the case with many sequels, this excitement also came with a degree of apprehension. ‘The Story of Tracy Beaker’, ‘The Dare Game’ and ‘Starring Tracy Beaker’ were all released in a moderately paced succession, but it’s been twelve years since we last checked in with Tracy and Cam and, frankly, I was a bit worried that this one was going to feel forced and ruin the magic of the first three; but for the first time in recorded history – I was wrong.

We first meet grown-up Tracy through the eyes of her daughter Jess Beaker, who has all of Tracy’s well-hidden good qualities – she’s thoughtful and puts everyone else’s needs before her own, which I think Tracy does deep down but it’s usually masked by her harsh outer shell. Jess is how I imagine the love child of Tracy and Peter Ingham would be, and given how this installment ends, that may well become a reality if there is a further book…

Tracy thankfully hasn’t lost her feisty streak – even as a mother she still hates authority, shouts at teachers and flies completely off the handle whenever she sees red. Having said that, she is fiercely protective of her daughter and very aware of how Carly treated her so she steers vigorously away from that cycle for Jess which adds so much depth to Tracy’s character and reminds you that her vulnerability is still there beneath the angst.

Tracy then falls head over heels for a boy (I know, ick!), and is convinced this is her ticket to the life she always dreamed her mum would give her with fame, fortune and even the pink Cadillac she’s dreamed of since book one. Nice touch there, Ms Wilson! I had reservations about the idea of Tracy being all loved up with a boyfriend, it just didn’t seem realistic to me and I went into this book with great cynicism towards that. However, trying not to reveal too many spoilers here, the boyfriend she has is actually a character we’ve met before – one I always thought there was something a little bit ‘off’ about when we first met him in ‘The Dare Game’. Throughout their relationship, Tracy’s guard is gradually let down and it was so endearing to see that side of her in such a big dose. It seemed like as she’s become an adult Tracy started to lose that sixth sense she always seemed to have about people’s character and her ability to spot a potential baddie within seconds, but thankfully, this is a quality she passed on to Jess – who is not so easily fooled.

Although this book would still be a great read as a standalone, it’s far more special for readers who are familiar with Tracy’s journey as all the previous significant characters make a return either directly or by reference from Tracy or another principal character. And the return of the Mickey Mouse alarm clock was just a nostalgia overdose for me, along with the several other subtle nods to Tracy’s formative yeas.

Naturally Cam is still here as the port of sensibleness in Tracy’s chaotic life, and her relationship with Jess is absolutely perfect and so touching to read. Cam actually has a more significant role in this installment, and becomes more of a character in herself rather than being formed through Tracy’s eyes from the pedestal on which she placed Cam after their first meeting; and her role is a really important consistency for the readers who have followed Tracy’s story from the start. Having Tracy transition into an adult without anyone from her younger years staying in her life wouldn’t really have worked, and also it would be difficult for fans of the series to believe that Cam wouldn’t have remained a part of Tracy’s story. There are some interesting developments with Cam’s character as well, and one pretty big one which is quite amusing as it is discovered through Jess’ observations, but Jess is a bit too naive to understand quite what this storyline implies. This part actually made me really want to go back and re-read the first three, in case this was implied earlier and I just didn’t pick up on it because I, too, was naive when I first read them.

As with all the classic Jacqueline Wilson books, the darker themes like poverty, bullying and to an extent domestic violence were still very prominent, but are narrated through Jess’ innocent perspective so it is somewhat softened and doesn’t feel like a really depressing, gloomy story. And, as ever, you’re still always rooting for Tracy to come out on top even when she is making some monumental mistakes. But of course, as she always does, Tracy comes out on top in the end despite all the struggles, and I love her even more for it. As much as I would love this series to go on and on because Tracy Beaker feels like an old friend with whom I grew up, the ending of this book is so fitting and satisfying that I don’t know where another one could feasibly go – thought I’m sure if anyone can manage it it’s Jacqueline Wilson. Tracy’s reunion with Peter really signified to me that she has come full circle and done the growing up that she needed to in order to appreciate him for the friend he always tried to be for her; and, wherever that relationship goes, it remains a perfect end point for Tracy and Jess’ journey. Plus, it is always nice to leave the door open for readers to make up their own mind about what Tracy might do next.

Bridezilla Part Two – The Dreaded Dress Difficulty

Since a date has now been set for my wedding after the world’s quickest betrothal (hey, he made me wait nine years for the ring, I’m locking this down before he changes his mind), the to-do list has been made, the menus have been chosen, and so began the dreaded ordeal that is wedding dress shopping.

I am very excited to get married, I’m just going to make that disclaimer now, but I absolutely hate wedding dresses. I don’t know why, but I always have. Every time I see a bride or a white dress I immediately think ‘that would look absolutely ridiculous on me’, and even after weeks of looking at every gown on the whole entire internet, I still went to this appointment absolutely convinced I was going to end up getting married looking like I had a sheet over my head like a low budget ghost Halloween costume with cut out eye holes. As someone who hates satin, lace, the colour white, that nasty netting material veils are made of, trains, poofy skirts and dresses in general, this was never going to be an easy or a pleasant task. Also, I can’t stand shop sales people, I know they have a job to do, but I hate going into shops to browse and having someone come up to me to look my body up and down, judge it, and tell me what would or wouldn’t look good. In summary, a bridal shop is my smear test – painful and uncomfortable with me in a vulnerable position while someone reassures me that this is a necessary evil.

Bridal shops are a bit odd, if you’ve never been to one -which I hadn’t before yesterday- it takes a while to get used to not being able to pull clothes off the racks to have a look and having someone telling you what to choose, who will then watch you undress. I have a personal bubble of steel – I don’t even like being hugged, so this was going to be a challenge. Having said that, even though I went in with a ‘why is this woman who does not know me telling me what to wear, who does she think she is?’ attitude, it has to be said that bridal shop staff (or at least just the ones I experienced) have an absolute superpower. I now want this lady to come with me when I buy everything. Next time I’m in Sainsbury’s wondering what to have for dinner I am going to get her to come and work her magic, because she knew what I wanted before I did.

We started off by choosing about three or four dresses between us (myself and my bridesmaids) and it seemed to be going okay, I wasn’t really gushing over anything but the lady who helped me get changed worked her magic fingers on each dress and clipped it in at all the right places. Who knew I had a juicy bum and hourglass waist? Certainly not me! I want her to come and put pegs on the back of all my clothes – let’s just say the two pains au chocolat I had for breakfast were nowhere to be seen. She could have clipped me into a bin bag and I would have felt fantastic. Then, after a couple of okay-but-not-quite-the-one attempts, she put me in an a-line poofy disaster. I had said from the second I walked into the shop that I didn’t want a-line, it just doesn’t fit my body very well, so why this lady insisted I try one was totally beyond me, but I was intimidated by her, and all the expensive dresses in the pristine room, so I went along with it. I hated it as politely as I could, dishing out my best ‘umm, I’m not too sure’ and trying to neutralise my expression of pure revulsion (I’m fairly sure this is how they train politicians to downplay things that are obviously going to be a disaster *cough* bedroom tax *cough* Brexit), but once I freed myself from the poofy nightmare and got back into the style I actually liked, suddenly said style started to look bloody amazing. I see what you did there, dress lady. I’m definitely going to start doing this when I cook a meal I’m not too sure about – feed my other half some pure coriander (devil’s herb) before dishing out a delicious microwave meal (hey, I’m a busy girl I work full time), because then that pile of reheated, processed chemicals will become pure nectar. No offence, a-line dress, but you were an absolutely huge meringue. Cue ‘Scarlett, you’re blind…’ and the rest.

So in summary, bridal shop lady is some sort of warlock, who managed to locate a dress that has no icky satin, icky lace, icky netting or blinding whiteness to it, so there won’t be a meringue in sight on my big day. And my figure is going to look totally amazing, for the first time ever without the help of Spanx – always a win. Honestly, if you’re ever feeling like you need a confidence boost I strongly advise rounding up your closest friends, slapping on a fake engagement ring and going into a bridal shop because it is like a tidal wave of compliments and ego massage – even for a loyal follower of the leggings and big t -shirt brigade like me. It’s safe to say I now fully understand that line in Bridesmaids – “this is awesome, just makes me want to go out and find another dude to marry”, because I would now happily spend every Saturday morning buying a wedding dress – it was so amazing that it actually eradicated the burning stress of having to whittle down Jack’s endless list of relatives, well, at least for about three hours.

bridal shop

Finding My Other Mothership

If you’ve already read my last post, you’ll be aware that a trip to Barter Books was probably not the most exciting thing I did last Saturday, but it definitely came a close second. I’ve loved Barter Books since I was little, and I’m old enough to remember when there was also a branch in Seahouses (yes, that was a thing, my parents actually know the people who used to run it so that is a verifiable fact), so it wasn’t a new or particularly novel – no pun intended – experience going there last week, but that absolutely didn’t make it any less enjoyable.

I’ve written before about using libraries, and how being able to roam freely to lose yourself in new characters and adventures with no cost incurred is just so incredible for a bookworm like myself, and definitely something that people generally don’t take enough advantage of; and the same applies for Barter Books, or secondhand bookshops generally. It’s so thrilling to be able to rake through the shelves with no idea what you might find, it’s like going treasure hunting without running the risk of accidentally touching a worm.

No disrespect to Waterstone’s, I’m still a loyal member of their rewards club, but you know what you’re going to find when you go in there; even if you leave it a few months or even a year between visits, the same authors tend to feature on the ‘buy one get one half price’ stands, and the same genres are in the featured positions on the shelves. With a second hand bookshop, that’s different no matter how often you go in because they get a constant churn of new, pre-loved stock. The sad thing about high street bookshops is that, unless a novel is a ‘classic’ or the author recently published something new and they’re trying to re-promote their previous work, books have a very limited shelf life. After a few months, sometimes even weeks, they get demoted to the general A-Z fiction section, where they go to die. I know that if there’s something you particularly want there’s always a keen, helpful bookseller at hand to order it for you and make other recommendations, but personally I don’t always know what I like until I see it in front of me. If I want something entirely new and undiscovered to read then I need to rake, and if the next ‘right’ book for me to immerse myself in is over a year old then, sorry, but I’m unlikely to find it on the high street.

I tweeted recently about how to spot a great library book, as I’d just checked out a book where the date label was almost totally covered in date stamps – a sign that it had been loved more times than Stormy Daniels (I am absolutely not one to condone slut shaming, but you get the point I’m making). A similar technique applies when in a second hand bookshop, the more battered the cover, the more creases in the spine, the more likely it is to pique my interest. No, we should not judge a book by its cover inherently, but if said cover implies that the book has been read and re-read multiple times, then it’s definitely worth a look over the blurb at least. And if that hasn’t persuaded you already, just think of the savings. Last week I got four fairly recent paperbacks for less than £10, rather than the usual £7.99 each, just because someone else has cracked the spine first. I can’t speak for other secondhand bookshops, but Barter Books has a system where you get credit for bringing used books in, which you can spend on new ones, so if you’re a book junkie like me this is a much safer way to enjoy your habit and soften the guilt of parting with your old books – I’m fairly sure my parents have never actually used cash in that shop. And if nothing else, they have free tea and coffee, a warm fire and a range of other customers’ dogs to pet.

The Dawn of the Bridezilla

Wow this has been a tiring week, after a very long drive to Northumberland and back (thank you, A1 traffic jams) last Saturday and a wild Sunday celebrating the dog’s birthday at the Doggy Diner, I’ve been collapsing into bed at nine o’clock most evenings. Oh, and I also suppose I’m a bit exhausted from carrying around this HUGE engagement ring (Phoebe Buffay, 2004). I may have left university over two years ago, but the ability to reference in the Harvard style will sadly remain burned into my brain until I die. But yes, on a far lighter note – I’m engaged!

I’m not one to air dirty laundry on a public forum (I save that for my group chats and coffee breaks at work while the kettle boils, I’m not a monster), but after almost nine years together this did come as somewhat of a relief. One of my best friends described it as ‘feeling a sense of peace ripple around the world’, so if you opened your curtains earlier this week and saw The Westboro Baptist Church skipping down the street, arm in arm with the cast of Queer Eye, don’t be alarmed – they’re all just so happy I’m finally engaged. So peaceful and relieved I was last Saturday, with an ice cold glass of M&S champagne and a hot bubble bath and a bridal magazine; feeling smug that it was finally my moment and that my wedding would be the least stressful, most fun and yet somehow chilled out day anyone has ever had and – wow, that was a nice twelve hours.

By Sunday evening, I was ready to throw my phone into the sea Carrie Bradshaw style and ask Jack if he had still had the receipt for the ring. I was just so completely baffled that one, albeit gorgeous, small piece of jewelry was capable of inviting so many unwanted opinions. Do diamonds emit some kind of hologram, invisible to their wearer, which says ‘please, tell me more about what you think a wedding should be’? Because I think mine might! While I’m not naive enough to have thought planning a wedding with someone who has a huge family would be an entirely zen experience from start to finish, I really did think that old classic – ‘it’ll be different when it’s ours’ would apply at least partially. Snowballing from that – I’m also now less certain that if I have children they definitely won’t cry unless there’s a legitimate reason, they absolutely won’t need dummies and that I’ll teach them to sleep through the night by their first birthday.

After a full week of hearing everyone’s opinions about what kind of wedding I should have and more than several variations of ‘shall we just book a registry office and get this over with?’ with my other half; I’ve drawn the early conclusion that yes, planning a wedding can be stress free; but only if you’re prepared to be brutal. I would never go as far as saying I ‘respect’ Theresa May (there’s little to no chance of me saying that about any Tory ever), but I have come to the realisation that pleasing everyone is a really, really difficult job; so in some cases it’s better to just do what you think is best and sod everyone else. At least the biggest decision I have to manage at the moment is whether to bother with a wedding breakfast or just go straight into canapes, though at times I do think it would be easier to negotiate a hard or soft Brexit. Theresa, if you want to swap, you can find my email address on the ‘contact’ page.

Do I Heart Lindsey Kelk?

I have had the first three I Heart books on my shelf for god knows how long. I read The Single Girl’s To Do List about six years ago and loved it, but just never got round to reading any more of Lindsey Kelk’s work. After seeing her at a signing a couple of months ago, I was reminded of how much I’d enjoyed that book, so I started on the I Heart series and finished them all in a fairly quick succession. So, I’m going to do my best to de-tangle them in my head (much like after a particularly vigorous spin cycle on the washing machine) to give my verdict on each, and on the series overall.

I Heart New York is the first instalment in the series, where we meet Angela as a broken hearted mess who spontaneously gets on a plane to JFK with a carry on case and the clothes on her back. This one felt very much like a rom com, with spontaneity that completely defied logic – how did she get on a plane to New York with no visa? How did she really afford all that expensive make up and designer clothes? Why was she not at all bothered about getting her share of the house she bought with Mark? Surely that could’ve solved her financial problems, but logic seems to have no place in Angela’s mind. However, like a good rom-com, I found myself overlooking the technicalities and just enjoying the overall story – and who wants to read a book that’s too much like real life anyway? If I wanted to read about credit card debt and career disasters I would start a diary of my own life.

Next comes I Heart Hollywood which, to be brutally honest, doesn’t need to be in the series. I really don’t like to be negative about books because I know someone spent a long time pouring their heart into it and it feels petty and unnecessary to ruin that, but this one was a bit forgettable if I’m totally honest. I Heart New York could very easily have been a standalone book, so the sequel was always going to be difficult to get just right, but I really didn’t get the whole idea of James Jacobs. He was being a complete twat to Angela the entire time, and as much as I’m sure it wasn’t meant like this, the issue of his sexuality and him covering it up with all these ‘beards’ came across as a bit stereotypical and erring on the edge of homophobic. It was all intended as part of an intriguing plot twist, which it was, but for me James’ controlling manager wanting to cover everything up and the George Michael-ing in the toilets did come across as a little bit cliché – as if gay men automatically have to be massive sluts. Again, Lindsey Kelk is a lovely person who I’m sure did not intend for that to be implied, but my interpretation of this book is that it was a bit plotless and slightly insensitive.

I Heart Paris is where it started to really feel like a series to me, as regular characters were starting to become more familiar and given deeper back stories so I became quite invested by this point and was actively wanting to finish the whole series and find out what journeys the characters embarked on. There was very little of Jenny in this book which is possibly why I enjoyed it so much, but it probably had more to do with Angela and Alex’s relationship starting to get quite serious and I became quite invested in that. It was important at this stage to start seeing Alex as an entity in himself and not as Angela’s boyfriend, otherwise the series probably couldn’t last as long, so it was a good palette cleanser learning about his back story and getting to know his personality and more about his life outside of being with Angela.

I Heart Vegas would probably be ranked just above I Heart Hollywood for being a bit of a filler book. Parts of it felt a bit irrelevant, for example all of Angela’s partying with James Jacobs and Jenny’s model friends really made me start to dislike her and it seemed to me like she stopped caring about her career or her relationship with Alex as much, and wanted to have a little ‘woe is me’ pity party. However, as I will elaborate on later, it is good to have a flawed main character that you start to root for to do better. If I was Angela’s friend, I would certainly have been sitting her down with a cup of tea at this stage and talking to her about her poor decisions. Alex certainly puts up with a lot from her overall, but especially so in this one. Having said that though, the proposal at the end is unbelievably cute and one hundred percent hashtag goals.

I heart London is definitely in the runnings for my favourite in the I Heart series. The main thought I’d had until this point about Angela was that I didn’t quite understand how she could just drop everything and move abroad and abandon her friends and family with no real explanation as to why. I had assumed from the first book when Angela’s mum stayed in her room after Louboutin-gate that they had a close relationship, and I never really understood her relationship with Louisa and her never telling Angela about Mark and his mistress. It was necessary at this point in the series to delve into who Angela was before she came to New York, and definitely put all her thoughts and feelings into proper context for me as a reader. Similarly, seeing Jenny so vulnerable throughout this book (and her being put in her place by Louisa which was a personal highlight), definitely made me appreciate her character much more than I had I previous instalments. Yes, I still don’t like her overall as a person, but after I Heart London I started to understand why she has certain flaws and how she can come across as quite harsh and controlling but that this is more of a front to protect herself.

I Heart Christmas was a little bit disappointing. As a self-professed Christmas enthusiast I was really excited for this one, but it didn’t feel as Christmassy as I’d hoped it would. I thought it was more just that the story happened to take place at Christmas, like Die Hard, and not a Christmas book in itself, so that was a bit of false advertising if you ask me. This story was, although enjoyable overall, a bit of a filler book. It was great seeing Angela’s magazine taking off and her becoming a career woman, and tackling the issue of whether women can have a career and a family which is relevant for so many women still, Angela’s treatment of Alex over the issue of having children was horribly selfish and really put me off her for a while. I don’t think it’s right at all to call a woman selfish for wanting a career instead of a family, and I think all women should be able to have full control over that decision, but I do think she maybe should’ve cleared that up with Alex before rushing into marrying him, and she seemed generally incapable of having an adult conversation about it so I got a bit bored of her constant pouting. Also, she really needs to stop taking advice from Jenny because she’s even worse.

I Heart Forever is the latest, and as far as I’m aware not the final, instalment of the series and is tied with I Heart London for my favourite one. This one seemed to have a great balance between career drama, friendship drama and relationship drama so I didn’t feel like any of the plots were being dragged out further than they needed to be, which has been the case with some of the earlier books. Once again, we find Jenny being a selfish bitch, this time about getting engaged, but Angela does seem to grow a backbone at this point and challenges her a bit which I did enjoy. Seeing Angela trying to deal with various crises without Alex was an interesting change of pace as well, as I hadn’t seen Angela single since about chapter three of I Heart New York, so it definitely helped the reader appreciate her as the leading lady. I’m really liking Angela’s parents playing more of a role in the story now as well, as a nice reminder of where she came from and why she does and thinks certain things.

On balance, although this is generally a more negative review than I like to write and I feel really guilty about this, I did generally enjoy the series as a whole. I wouldn’t recommend reading them as standalones, apart from possibly the first one, because I don’t think the characters can be seen to their full potential in any of the books without the context of all the others. I am looking forward to the next part of the series and to see how Angela tackles motherhood, hopefully she matures a bit more but probably won’t if Jenny is still kicking about at this point. I do think this series would make a very successful couple of films if the filler plots were cut out – if done correctly I think Angela Clark has the potential to be the millennials’ answer to Bridget Jones. Even though I rolled my eyes when Jenny went back to Craig for the umpteenth time, and tutted at Angela for being such a brat when she’s wedding planning at home in I Heart London, I understood why those two characters would behave like that within those situations. Too many authors create characters that are overly perfect and immediately get you on their side, so you can never really look at them objectively and unpick them. Until recently, it was a massive taboo to point out what a massive selfish bitch Carrie Bradshaw is, because we were all expected to want to be her and were too busy ogling over her sex life and wardrobe to step back and realise that she wasn’t living this perfect fantasy life; so it has to be said here that Lindsey Kelk does do character depth extremely well and even though you don’t always like them, you still enjoy reading about them. Overall, I’d give this series a 3/5; worth a read but I wouldn’t personally put myself out to make time to read it.

Review: Victory for the Shipyard Girls

Writing a book review without spoilers is very near impossible, but what’s the point of bigging something up and telling everyone why they should be reading it and then ruining the excitement of plot twists? So, I’m going to try my best to explain why I love this saga so much and persuade everyone to go out and buy it so I can have somebody to enthuse with; without revealing any major plot points. Sigh. Here goes.

I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while, as The Shipyard Girls is currently my favourite book series (having binged them all earlier this year while I was on holiday), but the latest instalment: ‘Victory for the Shipyard Girls’ is published today so it felt like a more apt time to start some Shipyard Girls hype. I actually got my copy at the weekend because I’m so very special, or Waterstones are just extremely organised with their pre-orders being shipped (probably the latter), so I spent last Saturday curled up with my trusty squad of Women Welders and, as usual, I loved every page of it. It’s really difficult to review individual books when they’re part of a series, even more so when you’re me and tend to binge a whole saga in one go, so this review is going to be a more general review of the series and explanation as to why I love it so much. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, part of my current job entails overseeing a local library so I spend a large portion of my day talking about books (aka living the dream), and other staff have given me a bit of stick for going on about how much I love The Shipyard Girls, with one person coining the series as ‘one of those old lady books’. I know you’re only as old as you feel, but at twenty four I don’t generally class myself as an ‘old lady’, or indeed as a lady most of the time, so I can say with a reasonable degree of confidence that these are not exclusively ‘old lady books’.

I started the series with fairly low expectations – they’re always promoted in my local Waterstones and I was after a new book for my 24 hour round trip to America, so it seemed to fit the bill, but I was absolutely hooked before the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign had gone off. The story takes place in Sunderland which is possibly why it appealed to me – there are few things more exciting than media references to your entirely unremarkable home town and I still get a little thrill when I read about these characters exploring the streets and landmarks around which I grew up. Having said that, I wouldn’t go as far as saying this series is a favourite because it’s directly relatable to me – since it takes place during the Second World War. I am somewhat of a history nerd, but again I wouldn’t say that is the main appeal of this series, because ultimately I think Nancy Revell could write this group of girls into any time period – from the Stone Age to a post-apocalyptic world after Trump inevitably destroys us all, and you would still immediately feel like they’re friends you’ve known for years after three or four pages.

Strong characters and a good plot are the foundation of any decent read, and it certainly seems like Nancy Revell knows how to do both to the nth degree. The character development is so striking but at the same time so well paced that you don’t notice it happening until it hits you in the face (in the best way). Having had a break between finishing the first four books and waiting for the fifth to be published, I now want to go back to April Me and say ‘guess what happens with Helen?’ or ‘You’ll never guess how things pan out with Gloria and Jack!’ and April Me would be absolutely blown away. And it’s not just the depth of detail within the characters that makes the reader get so invested, but their qualities; I am rooting for every single one of these women (except Miriam, bitch), even Helen and Pearl who I absolutely hated at the start. Each of them has such a rich and complex back story that you can’t help but love them, and they’re all so ferociously strong, overcoming ridiculous traumas and obstacles while trying to make space for themselves in a male dominated world that I just want to blast Christina Aguilera’s ‘Fighter’ and shout “yessssss, queens!” from the Wearmouth Bridge. Don’t get me wrong, relatable book characters are fine, hell, Bridget Jones would make the list for my fantasy dinner party, but what makes a story better than fine are characters who are not just relatable to the reader but those who also have a real strength and endurance to them that makes you think ‘wow, she is bad ass and I wish I was that fierce’.

As a self affirmed lover of ‘chick lit’ (I embrace that term, see earlier blog post, I don’t see any level of shame or guilt in it), this series is a really great palette cleanser as it has all the crucial elements of chick lit – initial heartache but eventually winning the man, strong friendships, tears, male leads that make all our boyfriends seem inadequate; but it’s all happening in a totally different context. It’s chick lit but without the lead female being a journalist in London or a shy waitress in a village tearoom – these girls are discussing their relationship issues over live welds while literally bending metal to put ships together that ultimately defeat Hitler. That’s a little bit different to your average Paige Toon or Jill Mansell (not that I don’t still love those two authors all the same!). Plus, this story isn’t centered around one girl and her secondary character friends; there is no Kelly or Michelle in Thompson’s shipyard – everyone is Beyonce in the Women Welders squad. All the characters are central, which allows for so many intertwined stories, and is ultimately what I think makes this story last over so many books without coming close to feeling tired or done, and it could easily continue over at least another few.

Well, if you aren’t convinced at this point that this series is worth trying out then I give up. Who doesn’t love some heartache and bitchy backstabbing drama peppered with strong friendships and Feminist overtones throughout? I am actually so obsessed with this series that I really wish it would be made into a TV drama; and I have never said that about any book ever – usually nothing upsets me more than a beloved book being made into a film or TV series because they’re always sub-par (I’m looking at you, Girl on the Train) – but The Shipyard Girls is so intensely great that even a half-arsed TV version would still be amazing – though I don’t think Nancy Revell would allow such an injustice. And neither would I, unless I wasn’t cast to play Rosie…

The Shipyard Girls is best enjoyed with coffee and cake in a big comfy chair.

The C Word

So I was in Superdrug today just minding my own business, buying mouthwash and cotton wool (crazy spender, I know – treat yo self indeed), and I noticed they’ve started putting the Christmas gift sets out. Let’s get one thing out of the way right now, I fucking love Christmas. The earlier the better if you ask me, but I overheard some other customers giving it the old ‘bah, humbug – keep Christmas in December’ nonsense, and you know what? I feel like I need to stick up for Christmas now. Poor thing can’t turn up to the party a little bit early without getting told to go back to the North Pole until the first door on the Advent calendar is open. It’s okay, Christmas, Esther wants to hang out with you and you can cry on my shoulder when people are so mean about you.

Here’s the way I see it. Christmas, or December in general if you don’t personally observe Christmas as a holiday, is the reward for getting through the year. It’s like Friday nights, even if you have nothing special planned, that feeling starts building the moment your alarm goes off and by 5 p.m. when you get in your car and start that journey home, you know that’s your time – your chance to relax and do whatever you want as a reward for getting through the week. December is a full month of ‘treat yo self’, whether you observe Christmas or not. It’s the only time of the year when it’s totally acceptable to gain weight, wear jumpers and leggings every day, meet up with friends and family you haven’t seen for ages and just generally spoil yourself. Everyone is in such a good mood in the run-up to Christmas you can’t help but get caught up in it and no matter what you’ve done that particular year, you deserve that break. Personally, I’ve had an absolute shitter of a year so I cannot wait to laze around and do nothing from mid-November onwards. Once that John Lewis ad airs and people start saying “what the hell, it’s Christmas” I am done, don’t expect to find me doing anything more strenuous than slicing cheese to go with my crackers and stretching to put the star on top of the tree.

There is a lot of pressure around Christmas though and I totally understand that side of the argument. People spend money they don’t have buying things they don’t need to impress people they don’t really need to, and there’s such a focus on being with family/friends/a significant other that when you’re on your own it can feel like hand sanitiser over a papercut. I’ve been on that side of the coin; I lost my mum when I was a teenager and my sister moved abroad shortly after so the family Christmases I grew to know and love were taken away from me before I really got the chance to really appreciate them. Hell, one Christmas Eve I woke up to the news that one of my closest friends had been found dead the night before. I’ve spent many a Christmas morning in tears and have been known to spend Christmas Day eating frozen pizza and doing dissertation research, so I get it when people have personal reasons for finding Christmas hard and therefore feel bitter about it seemingly arriving earlier every year. However, to those people I ask – why are you stressing yourself out about it? Just because you might not be able to have the day exactly how you want it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it in your own way. How many people dream of getting married at the Plaza in a Vera Wang dress but still have a magical day in a hotel marquee wearing a high street dress and suit? Just because you might be without certain people or your life might not be exactly where you want it doesn’t mean you can’t veg out in front of Home Alone having some ‘you’ time with a sharing box of cheese and crackers.

December is the reward for getting through the arduous task of life for another 11 months, so stop being so bloody miserable and find a way to enjoy it. I’ve been on both sides of the Christmas debate, and the lesson I learned was that life is far too short and we work way too hard not to treat ourselves somehow, and who doesn’t love the feeling of being snuggled up in your PJs in front of a favourite childhood festive film with a box of chocolates, even if you are on your own. Me personally? I prefer it that way anyway!

Surviving University 101: Life Advice From a Boring Graduate

Well, now that results day is done and dusted, the crying has stopped and the gap yah wankers’ floral pants and sandals are touching ground Thailand, the rest of the UK’S eighteen year olds are starting that nervous excitement of preparing for uni. I remember it well, packing every item of clothing I owned (even if I hadn’t worn it in years), putting way too much thought and effort into how to make a toga out of a bedsheet, buying wall art for my new digs that would show off my unique personality and buying every textbook on the reading list even though, realistically, at least half of them would never be opened. It’s an exciting yet absolutely bloody terrifying time, well for an anxious introvert like me it definitely was more of the latter, and like most things in life I now look back and wonder what I was worried about – it’s over before you know it and everything always seems easier in hindsight. However, I did learn a few valuable lessons along the way and at the risk of sounding like a total grandma, there are a few things I wish I’d known before I started this chapter of my life so I thought now is the ideal time to share these really, isn’t it?

My university experience was far from typical – my family situation is unusual, my sister moved me into my halls and I had to work part time to support myself through my degree; plus the university I went to was fairly unusual – full of posh twats, had a practically medieval collegiate system and was mostly catered halls so the majority of my experiences there aren’t applicable to other people’s, but there are a few overall bits of advice that I wish someone had given me before I started.

Firstly – fresher’s week. You will spend weeks before starting university planning this; obsessing over the fancy dress nights, what everyone will be wearing and where the coolest people will be going. I essentially bought a whole new wardrobe for fresher’s and it was a total waste of money. Fresher’s is absolutely not a big deal and I wish someone had told me that. I went out every night of that week and boy did I pay for it, particularly as I didn’t particularly enjoy it. If you’re a party animal and love nights out that is absolutely fine, go crazy every night for the whole term if you want, but do not feel under pressure to do so. I forced myself to go out every night of fresher’s week because I was convinced that I’d be an outcast if I didn’t. By Halloween, I couldn’t tell you the name of anyone I met in fresher’s week; this is not the time where you meet your lifelong friends or new boyfriend, it’s a filler week and you meet random people who you’ll more than likely not see again. The meaningful friendships I made came from people on my course and in my corridor, so if you want to have a quiet night in front of Netflix during fresher’s, you go ahead because it won’t make a jot of difference. Nobody will notice.

While I’m on the subject of fresher’s week, you get absolutely bombarded with information in those first few days and it can feel a tad overwhelming and slightly irrelevant, but I would stress that it’s really important to know where the support services are because you more than likely won’t be told again. Even if you don’t need them at first, you never know what those three years will bring – so make sure you know where the academic support is in case you ever need an extension on work or you go through some adverse circumstances that need consideration for your grades; and familiarise yourself with the mental health services. Again, even if you start the year feeling totally fine, you never know what’s round the corner. University is a stressful period in itself, and life has an annoying tendency to get in the way – break ups, bereavements, financial problems; you never know what’s going to come your way in the next three years so it’s good to be prepared just in case.

Just as important as your mental health – your physical health. Fresher’s flu is very real, even if you don’t go out drinking at all. Uni halls are typically really unsanitary and people will have moved there from all over the country, and other parts of the world, bringing cold and flu strains that you’ve never been hit by. It’s not just a case of nursing your hangover to get by, I would strongly advise sanitising everything and keeping on top of your vitamins. I had one of the worst viral infections of my life in the winter of first year – catered halls and living practically on top of each other meant it was a breeding ground for germs. From that point on I kept my hands sanitised, my room thoroughly Flash-wiped and vitamin C and zinc became part of my daily routine – and my god did it help.

Once fresher’s is done, don’t piss away your first year. Yes, you only need 40% in that first year but you do get a full transcript when you graduate and it doesn’t look great if you have some thirds on there. Also, from my experience, the people who worked hard and took first year seriously then breezed through second and third year, or at least found it much easier than those who didn’t. Getting a routine down and knowing how you learn most effectively is so important, so get that done during the year that ultimately ‘doesn’t count’, and trust me you will not regret that when it comes to job hunting.

On the subject of job hunting, I know graduation and finding a ‘real’ job seem like they’re a world away, but trust me it will sneak up on you. I did some volunteer work while I was a student and it gave me such a leg up when that time came. Graduates are ruthless, the competition is fierce and honestly even if you get a first, you won’t be the only one going for that job. Voluntary work is usually really flexible, you can choose the hours you want and only do a couple of hours a fortnight if you’re really pushed for time, but those few hours here and there can be the difference between getting the job you want vs losing it to someone else. If you’re not sure where to look, do-it.org has a great list of opportunities available in different areas, and the university will more than likely have loads of projects you can get involved in so I would really strongly advise doing that, and not just for the last few weeks of third year when panic sets in – get into the habit of volunteering early on so you get a really good reference out of it if nothing else.

Finally, and probably most importantly, enjoy yourself! Have fun, live in the moment and try new things. I’m overly cautious and get really uncomfortable in unfamiliar situations or around new people so I definitely shut myself away more than was good for me at university. Yes, I still made some close friends for life, but honestly I regret not letting my hair down a bit more. Obviously it’s important to be safe, don’t be getting blackout drunk and passing out on the way home every night or having unprotected sex with strangers, but use this time to have fun and learn everything you can about the subject you’ve chosen. You won’t get to do it again and believe me, you’ll blink and it will all be over. Oh, and the freshman 15 is so real, but it happens to everyone so it’s really not that big of an issue.

Finding My Mothership, aka the Library

If you’re already a visitor to this blog, big up to both of you by the way, I will build a good follower count eventually, sigh. Anyway, if you’ve already read my posts you will be fully aware that I am a complete bookworm – the Waterstones staff get dollar signs in their eyes every time I walk in, and Barter Books in Alnwick is like my Mecca. But, as embarrassing as this is to admit, I have not set foot in a library since I was in primary school. Obviously I’m discounting the many hours spent in the university library because that was more of a necessary evil than a leisure choice and to be honest reading for my degree really made me fall out of love with reading, temporarily. I could never stay angry with you, literature.

I recently started a new job with a local council, and you’ll be aware if you live in the UK that libraries are generally being cut and merged with other facilities like job centres and housing offices, bloody tories. So, it was really by chance that I started visiting a library again because there’s one in the building where I work, and I sometimes have to take a turn being in charge of it (date stamping the books is seriously so satisfying I can’t explain it). Naturally, if you put me in a room full of books I’m going to start perusing and honestly my main question is ‘why on Earth haven’t I been using libraries for years?’ Council tax is an absolute pain in the backside – yes it’s nice to have the bins emptied and a local police force but it’s something we all resent paying. But guys, we can get free books. Free. Books. Books. For free. Without paying. How freaking amazing is that???

Every time I go into Waterstones I have an absolute crisis and fret over whether to buy books by unfamiliar authors because, let’s be real, £7.99 is a lot to spend on a paperback you might not necessarily enjoy, which will then also take up space in your house, so I always end up playing it safe with an author I know I like. And that’s fine, if you like one book then chances are you’ll like said author’s other books, but variety is the spice of life, yes? And I get it, you don’t want to be paying for something you might not actually like, hence why I have a regular order at every restaurant I’ve ever been to – no way am I going to risk branching away from a lemon and herb pitta now, Nando’s. The solution? Libraries! Did you know they have DVDs now? BLOCKBUSTER ISN’T DEAD GUYS, IT JUST MOVED TO THE LIBRARIES AND NOW IT’S FREE, WAHOOOO! Seriously though, they have ebooks and DVDs as well as all of the books ever, and if you don’t enjoy it then it doesn’t matter! You just take it back and get something else! No muss, no fuss, no scratting around the bin looking for your receipt and trying to pretend to the cashier that you never even cracked the spine.

Having access to free books is really pushing me to read more and to branch out beyond my usual genres, so for any book lover I really cannot stress enough how revolutionary a library card is. *Resists the urge to break into the library card song from Arthur*. If someone told me there was a place you could go to, on nearly every high street, where you can test a meal for free without having to buy it just to see if you like it; I would be all over that like a rash. Being able to read books for free? Honestly if I didn’t know better, I would’ve said that only exists in the dream world where I am also married to Justin Hawkins and Johnny Depp never became a greying domestic violence perpetrator. Matilda was definitely onto something here…

Not to be Dramatic – But I think I’ve Found the Secret to Life

So it was A Level results day this week here in the UK, and it’s GCSE results next week which means we have a whole fortnight of celebrities tweeting variations of ‘it’s okay if you don’t get the results you hoped for, I failed x, y and z and I’m still happy/successful’. Personally, I find this so completely unhelpful and frankly hypocritical. With the exception of those two days, we spend the rest of the year beating ourselves, and other people, up for not being exactly where we should be in the life plans we’ve set out for ourselves. I definitely think this is getting worse with the whole ‘millenial’ culture of ‘oh Milennials are such snowflakes and don’t work for anything, when I was your age I worked 7 jobs and walked 25 miles to each of them and still had time to find a husband’, and you know what? It’s A, pissing me off and B, so completely and utterly inaccurate and not the case for anyone.

Here’s the thing, I don’t consider myself to be some wise, life affirming, philosophical guru, I got an A in AS Philosophy and even that was only because I memorised the textbook and regurgitated it word for word on the exam paper. But, and I don’t mean to be dramatic, I think I legitimately might have just discovered the single most useful bit of life advice ever; I mean, this is like the boolprop cheats in Sims, this is *the* hack, something more useful than the elastic bands in Spy Kids 2 (still not convinced they ever found 99 uses for those). Are you ready for your mind to be blown? Here it is. *Clears throat*:

If you are happy in an overall, all things considered, general sense, you are fine.

I’ll say it again for the people in the back:

If you are happy, you are fine.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious” I hear you say, but this is something that I went twenty four years of my life without realising. I spent three years at a really good university, the best university in the country for my subject area actually, and although there were pockets of happy times in there, I made some great lifelong friends, it was overall a very negative experience. The people who attend this university are generally not very nice, the culture is not very nice, and if the only thing ‘Eton’ means to you is a messy dessert, they will make it very clear that you are not welcome there. I finished that university with a first class degree, which I am exponentially proud of, but all people say to me is “oh my god you got a first from x, that’s amazing”. Is it? Was it worth needing counselling and feeling generally miserable for three years? In a word, “no”.

Fast forward 2 years, I’m on my second job out of university and my career is exactly on the path I want it to be, it’s all mapped out and everyone is telling me I’m amazing for doing what I do. But again, I am miserable. The job I was doing was very psychologically challenging; I had to accept some really quite disturbing things as normal, things that if they were portrayed in a film people would say “well that wouldn’t ever happen in real life”. And, great for the people who can handle that, seriously well done to you, but for me I didn’t like the person I had to become to be able to cope with doing that job. Also, the company I worked for was not right for me. There was a general bullying culture, immense pressure to do a difficult job with few resources and not enough staff, and people in my imminent team who were just generally not very nice at all. That’s about as far as I can politely go without really offending certain people, much as many of them 100% deserve it. It took me getting to a point of genuine mental breakdown and being unable to leave my house without having panic attacks that caused me to collapse, to realise that having my career in the ‘right’ place was just not worth it at all. You are not successful if you are coming home most days in tears and unable to sleep from the stress. It does not matter what your salary is or how much fantastic experience you are getting, if it’s affecting you negatively, that is counter-productive and you are actually unsuccessful.

Once I learned this, I realised it was applicable to basically everything. Not to go completely Charlotte York about this, but a question people often ask me is why I’m not married or engaged, because of the length of time I’ve been with my boyfriend. I’ll say it again, we are happy, ergo we are fine. I’m not saying it will never happen and I’m not a feminazi ‘men are the devil and marriage is oppressive’ type, but for now, things are completely fine. We are happy and, as they say, if it ain’t broke…

So here I am, at 24, working a fairly mundane job which I know is a beneath my degree and experience, unmarried despite being in a position where I easily could be; but here’s the plot twist, I AM HAPPY! For the first time in about a year I am, overall, happy more often than I am unhappy. Yes, things aren’t perfect, nothing ever is – I do sometimes get stressed at work or argue with my boyfriend or feel upset when something goes wrong, but on balance things are good. I honestly think this is the secret to life, and I’m not going to lie – I feel like I’ve found the Holy Grail. ‘Success’ is such an arbitrary term and you’re realistically never going to feel like you’ve achieved everything you meant to, so just stop stressing about it and do what you enjoy – I absolutely could’ve saved myself so much turmoil and mental distress if I’d known this earlier.