Hello, fellow book lovers. It's been a while since I wrote one of these! In all honesty, I haven't got much reading done, recently. Maybe because I'm too busy, but I also haven't been allocating time for it as much as I did earlier this year. I have to admit, I miss the end-of-lockdown summer days, when I would spent around 8 full hours on my roof, reading reading reading... 

Okay, tiny violin moment over. Here are some reviews. 

Red White & Royal Blue, by Casey McQuiston.

An enemies to lovers story, in which the Prince of Wales falls for the First Son of the American President, and their romance must overcome opposition from all sides.

Review via Goodreads.

Everyone was telling me to read this one. EVERYONE. It's a truly unique novel; New Adult (a bit of a grey area, genre-wise!), contemporary (it takes place in a very different 2020), witty, political, and sexy af.  I won't lie, I didn't fully grasp some of the political jargon or Very American storylines, but holy cow I gobbled up the sexual tension and delightful character development. 

Thank you so much to Claire, aka @paperbookmarks, for sending me this one during Lockdown 1. You're a gem. 

Every Little Piece of My Heart, by Non Pratt.

When Sophie receives a parcel from her best friend, Freya, she expects it to contain the reason why Freya left town so suddenly, without goodbyes or explanation. Instead, she finds a letter addressed to Win, a girl Freya barely knew - or did she? As more letters arrive for more people on the periphery of Freya's life, Sophie and Win begin to piece together who Freya was and why she left. Sometimes it's not about who's gone, but about who they leave behind.

Review via Goodreads.

Non is one of my favourite YA authors. The characters she writes are so believable and layered, and their arcs are beautiful. Her dialogue writing is masterful. FACTS. I do love her romantic stuff, but let me tell you she is one of the very best when it comes to writing about friendships. *chef's kiss*

I bought this book with a ticket to a Zoom event with Non in conversation with Gráinne Clear, Commissioning Editor at Walker Books, organised by Lutyens & Rubinstein Bookshop & Literary Agency. Check them out, please! (and consider buying from them this Christmas, rather than That Site) 

Pumpkinheads, by Rainbow Rowell & Faith Erin Hicks.

Every autumn through high school, Josiah and Deja have worked together at the local pumpkin patch. They say good-bye every Halloween, and they’re reunited every September 1st. But this Halloween is different — they are finally seniors, and this is their last season at the pumpkin patch. Their last shift together. Their last good-bye.

Review via Goodreads. 

I am not a huge graphic novel reader (idk why, I just like allll the words), but I had had my eye on this one for a good while. Rainbow's writing is always a treat, and Faith's illustrations were just incredible. As for the story... I liked the friendship stuff, and the setting was adorable, but (spoilers) I didn't like where it went right at the end. I didn't believe it. Maybe it's because I'm cynical and jaded, but I noticed after finishing it that a few reviewers felt the same as me... 

More Than a Woman, by Caitlin Moran.

Hello. Let’s try something here.

I started this blog in 2010, back when I wore skinny jeans, Converse and zip up hoodies all day every day, dyed my hair all the wrong colours and felt SO MUCH, I couldn’t keep it all in. I found peace and happiness in my tiny corner of the internet, posting with wild abandon about my crushes, A Level stresses, (questionable) fashion choices and foolish ambitions. No details spared. And while it wasn’t great when my peers found my little safe space and started ripping it out of me for being so mushy, pretentious and quite prone to embellishment, I was never discouraged because it was so good for my mind, writing my feelings out.

Well, over the past few years I’ll admit that I’ve become quite scared to just write, like I used to. I’ve stopped my musing and rambling, and started overthinking and planning, so much so that I’ve lost a lot of the joy I used to get from this platform that I made for myself as a hormonal, angsty, romantic teenager. Now, I’ve proven to you readers quite recently that I still have that same teenager living within me, somewhere, and I’m wondering if I could take a leaf out of her book, as I muddle through the adult world as best I can. I want to take time for myself; I need to stop spending every waking moment trying to fill time with work, scrolling through various social media platforms, social engagements – okay, well, the latter isn’t really a problem any more in this current mess of a world, but you know what I mean. I need to stop trying to make use of every minute of my day. I need to do things just for the fun of it, and not because I can get something from it – be that money, freebies, a following, or a few brownie points here and there. 

Photo: Erin Veness

Lockdown Part II (Revenge of the Virus) is going to be very different. For one thing, people seem to be generally feeling much more positive about it; I’ve had conversations with friends and everyday acquaintances who have said they’re simply seeing it as a paid month off work this time, and they’re excited because it means they can binge some more on Netflix, read more books, create stuff, do some work around the house, spend more time with their kids, and so much more. Also, a lot of small businesses are staying open, but making vital changes to how they operate because they don’t want to close again, and they’ve made the effort to figure out how to work with the restrictions.

I’m living my good life, to be quite honest. I’m thrilled to not be shielding this time around – huge shout-out to those who aren’t so lucky; I see you and I know what you’re going through – and I am excited for all this free time, that I will be mostly spending alone (because I love being alone. Did you know that about me?), on self care and my creative projects. I have a couple in the pipeline, and I’ve actually started manifesting them now, and not being afraid to speak openly about them with my close friends. One of those creative projects, I guess, is going back to basics here. I want to start writing openly and freely again, about whatever I’m feeling, and whatever I’m doing. I used to share long posts on here about stuff I’d been doing day to day, and friends I was hanging out with, and what I’d been learning at college/uni. Simple things. I never felt pressured to share political opinions, fine-tuned reviews or #sponsored #content, back then. I think now more than ever, we are needing to connect with our old selves and work out what used to make us happy, and if/why we’ve lost that along the way somewhere.

Photo: Erin Veness

Last Monday, I woke up with my gorgeous boyfriend, and as he got ready for work I realised that it was the last day I could do something spontaneous and have some me time for at least four weeks, with the second lockdown looming. I’d been planning to check in on a Google meet at 10am, then join the live stream of my friend’s funeral at 11am, at my kitchen table, with a coffee. Well, I decided to skip the Google meet, jump on a train to Brighton, and watch the service in one of the indie cafes in the North Laines. I smiled to myself as the train pulled into my favourite seaside city, and I stepped off the train into the winter sunshine. Jordan would have liked this, I thought. You see, Jordan was always a ‘get out there and LIVE’ kind of person. We could all learn a lot from the way he saw the world. I settled myself in a quiet cafe, ordered a long black, propped my phone against the little jug containing the extra hot water I requested, and logged into the live stream. I tried not to wonder if the staff noticed I was getting tearful over and over again as I sat there for an hour, nursing my cup. Then when the service was over, I wandered deeper into the Laines and spent the rest of the day treating myself, mindfully. I got three new pairs of (ethically made) trousers; I grabbed some crispy tempeh tacos in a cafe I’d never been to before; I inadvertently explored the park while searching desperately for a public toilet; I got takeaway vegan doughnuts for the parents, as I was seeing them that evening; I visited the shop on Sydney Street that I once worked in, and when I finally boarded the train home I was full of good food and deep joy (two things which, in my book, are one and the same). I’d shaken off my usual stresses, boring To Do lists and thrifty tendencies, and just enjoyed myself for a change. It had been so long since I’d done me for a day. I know it was a luxury, and I sadly can’t make a habit of it, but maybe I should try to schedule in one of those types of days every couple of months. Maybe we all should. Once the world gets a little more… now, do I say ‘normal’? No. That’s a boring word. ‘Safe’? ‘Chilled’? They’re a bit better.

When was the last time you had a you day? Was it magical? I wanna know all about it. Comment below, or tweet me. Also, what do you want to read on here? As a reader, it’s as much yours as it is mine, I guess. Only it’s not really. I can do what I want here. Mwahahaha.

Hey, stationery lovers, goal setters and go-getters – have you heard of Mål Paper?

They create simple yet stylish Scandinavian stationery, designed to help us be more productive by focusing our minds on the most important tasks. I don’t know about you lot, but I’ve been feeling like I need a kick up the butt recently, and I’m determined to make this second lockdown count for something. Anyone else? 

Well, I have some great news. The wonderful folks at Mål Paper are currently running a competition to win a £50 gift card, so you can treat yourself to some of their elegant, fabulous products. Ooh, or maybe you could put that £50 towards a Christmas gifts for a goal-loving loved one? You can decide how generous you're feeling, or if you are just wanting to treat yourself. I've just entered, and got my eye on their Daily Goal Setter planner, if I win. Or maybe one of the affirmation card decks...  

Here’s the link you need to enter, and all you have to do is sign up to their newsletter, and tell them what your #1 goal is. Yep, it really is that simple.

Enter now, for your chance to win!

Lydia Reeves is a brilliant, badass body casting artist, working out of a studio in Brighton (she travels around, too; see her Insta for more info on that). I’ve admired her work for a while now, and was lucky enough to be a volunteer in her Vulva Diversity Project! I then went back to have my fabulous, mismatched boobs cast so I could hang them in pride of place in my home. These experiences were so positive, empowering and fun; I’d recommend her amazing casting to anyone who wants to preserve a bit of themselves, get over any aesthetic hang-ups, and truly love their body. She has so many more awesome things coming soon, so give her a follow on Instagram and keep an eye on her website now!

Lydia recently popped down to Hastings to do some recording for a super exciting project I’m working on. I can’t wait for you all to hear her speaking passionately about body love, breaking stigmas, and the pressures of society. But for now, here she is in blog interview form, talking about her vulva project... 

(Photo from Lydia's website.)

How did the idea for this project come to you? What was the original aim, and has it changed?

After suffering with huge anxieties and insecurities surrounding my own vulva, I decided I wanted to create something which helped other vulva owners to celebrate their vulvas, instead of feeling ashamed by them. 

This started by casting myself, and then a few friends. I had no big plans for it to go the way that it has! After realising the positive effects it had on me and my friends, I put a shout-out out on my Instagram to see if anyone else wanted to come and get theirs cast. Turns out this project resonates with A LOT of people!! Since then it has organically grown into this beautiful, diverse, project which has already helped so so many people understand that all vulvas are completely normal, and beautifully unique.

When did you first cast a vulva? What was that like!?

I cast my own vulva when I was 19 (almost 10 years ago!) This was after first learning how to body cast, and of course, I applied this technique straight to my vulva! At the time I wasn’t in the right mental place to start embracing my vulva, so hid the cast under my bed for years and years!

When I first started this project last year, my first vulva cast wasn’t the best…It was on one of my best friends and she happened to have a lot of pubic hair at the time. I had no idea how much Nivea cream I was supposed to use, and clearly didn’t use enough! We spent the best part of 10 minutes easing the goop off of her pubes bit by bit as she’d got pretty stuck in there!! A HUGE learning curve for me, and thankfully we’re still good mates haha! 

What do you use to make your castings? 

I mainly use a high strength plaster to create the finished pieces. I love the organic feel and the fragility each cast possesses.

What is the process like for you, the artist, working with a model?

I absolutely love the casting process. First and foremost I always make sure I’m putting the participant at ease as much as I can. I completely understand that this can be a very nerve-racking experience. Before getting into the casting process, we chat a lot about why they decided to come and get their vulva cast today, and I share a bit about my journey too if it feels appropriate. I could have never predicted how much I’d learn from doing this project, and it’s by far the best thing I’ve done to date!

(Photo from Lydia's website.)

Where did you see this project going? Was there a particular goal you wanted to hit?

I had no idea where I was going to take this project when I first started. At the very beginning I kept on saying ‘if it helps just one person feel more comfortable with their vulva, then I feel like I’ve done a great thing.’ I could never have foreseen it going the way it did, as just over a year later I’ve cast 200 vulvas, and had countless messages from people – both who are part of the project, and also those who follow my work on Instagram – saying how much my work has completely changed the way they view their own vulva! I can’t wait for my exhibition, and my book launch, to reach more and more people.

Did you know Lydia sells some amazing handmade products, too? Check her store out here!

Where can people find you on social media? And how can they sign up to get their beautiful bodies immortalised in this unique way?

My Instagram is @lydiareeves_artist and my website is lydiareeves.com. I am no longer taking volunteers for my Vulva Diversity Project, but I am still very much casting vulvas, boobies, bums and tums (and anything else you’d like casting!) so please feel free to drop me a message about booking in!

*

Thanks so much for stopping by, Lydia. Huge love for you!

For those who don't know... I’m Grace. 

I have only recently discovered chow mein, growing my hair out (a little bit) is proving very difficult, I'm trying to make more time to write, doing a 'big shop' in the supermarket brings me such joy, coming off the pill has been amazing and absolutely sh*t, I've finally bought a Monstera Deliciosa, I stare at myself way too much during Zoom calls thinking 'do I normally look like that?!', I'm trying and failing to set bedtimes on my iPhone, going back to work has been weird and lovely and exhausting, I'm just starting a 28 day body 'reset' course with a local nutritionist and I'm so nervous/excited, turmeric is magical, fast fashion is evil, eating vegetables is important, I really think Sara Pascoe and I could be great friends, but then I worry I wouldn't make her laugh very much. 

I do these fun fact posts now and again, and weirdly, they get crazy amounts of reads. You nosy peeps. I love you. 

I love kissing. No, seriously. It's a big deal for me. In fact, I'd say it's a make or break point. On my first date with Hands, I confessed to him (after a few whiskies) that I believed kisses were extremely important; I’ve always felt that if I get on with someone, great, but if their kisses don’t work for me, then odds are we won’t continue seeing each other for very long. I want sparks, excitement and a feeling of connection. 

photo: Sophie Mayanne

What part of kissing is the best part, though? Is it the build-up? I used to love that part, when I was a hopelessly romantic teenager, full of hormones and constantly fighting inappropriate urges. We actually used to do an exercise in my Drama A Level lessons to ‘create sexual tension’ (hardly necessary, in a class of 15 sweaty teens mostly wearing leggings and writhing around to moody trance music, but hey) in which we’d grab a partner (literally) and take it in turns to walk towards each other and get in super close, as if we were about to dive in for an epic snog, then turn and walk away at the last minute… then turn back longingly, one last time. Goodness me, it was intense. And obviously, we all loved doing it. Because the suspense was delicious. It was like a scene in The OC, or even Skins; the will they? won’t they? plot lines were so juicy, it was almost a let down when the characters would break the tension with a smooch and end the wondering immediately. I remember I had friends at school and then college who I didn’t ‘get with’ because I enjoyed the ‘maybe’ of it all too much. I properly relished the excitement and question of it. My friends and I would always be swapping stories about ‘almost kisses’ on the train home, we’d get drunk on the anticipation and flush hot pink as we described every little detail – “he and I were in the costume cupboard behind the theatre, and we both reached for this jacket at the same time, he turned to me and we made eye contact and I FELT HIS BREATH on my cheek…”

Yep. The build-up, the not-kissing part, is pretty wonderful. But y’know what else is? The actual kissing part. When I was very young, I remember wondering how on earth we humans decided that we liked smushing our mouths together, and how that could be a declaration of attraction, or even love. And I mean, to this day I can still see the weirdness of it all, if you look at it simply – it’s just two faces being abruptly stuck together by two pairs of lips, with the optional tongues slipping in and out and shaking all about. It’s really bizarre. But it sends the happiest tingles through you; it somehow connects with your whole body, and your brain can get really into it as well. If it’s done right, that is. I’ve been kissed by some truly magnificent masters, a few promising punters, and then some absolute amateurs. Everyone has their own style and preferences (for instance, I’m really not that fussed about the tongue. Leave it in there, mate). I’m a big fan of hands on the sides of my face, or maybe one against the back of my head and one on my waist. Even a light hug around the middle feels nice. I once shared a great kiss with someone in a suit, and I think what made it great was the fact that I could grab hold of their lapels and pull them toward me. 10/10. I’ve also kissed someone I probably shouldn’t have, and that fact was hot enough really, but they also did this trick of running their hands up and down my back in little circles, which made me shiver against them and get in even closer. Sensory overload. 

But then it doesn’t always have to be dramatic. It can be lovely and gentle, like my first kiss with Hands, which was across a wobbly table in a pub on a quiet Friday night; just a little smooch that tasted like a sweet mingling of whisky and rum, it felt so gentle but hid within it a hint of wickedness.

photo: Sophie Mayanne

Then comes another exciting part… the after. When you break apart from the person you’ve been kissing and share a moment there, just you two. This is particularly lovely after a first kiss, partly because all that tension that built up would have finally been released, and you’ll both feel the happy relief of it as the dust settles around you… but also because it’s a taste of what’s to come. A first kiss is like a key, and you let yourself into something with it. You don’t know what the something actually is yet, and that’s part of the excitement, isn’t it? I, for one, love the ‘after’ part of a kiss. It can be so brief; just a quick flicker of a spark between each other’s eyes, blink and you’ll miss it, before you both look away and smile to yourselves, then continue with whatever you were doing. Return to the party, refill your drinks, catch up with other friends, don’t think on what just happened too much because there’s no time now. Or it can sit with you for a while, a comforting feeling that settles on your shoulders and tickles your lips; it fills up your chest with a mixture of warmth and confidence that makes you sit up a little and show your teeth when you smile. It glows in the corners of your eyes. For the rest of the evening, you and the person you kissed will feel the little smattering of stardust that was born when you collided, and exists between the two of you. 

photo: Sophie Mayanne

What’s your favourite part of a kiss? And are there any that you think will always linger in the back of your mind? 

I was a very romantic teenager. Like, obsessed with all things love and lust. I had so many crushes, fantasies and ‘what if’ moments. I would spend hours listening to the same pop punk ballads, gazing out every train window, sighing dramatically, staying up late with my phone under the covers, agonising over my wording of the simplest texts – then sending the most obscure ‘hey, what’s up?’, definitely expecting a lovelorn essay in return, and being heartbroken when I only got a ‘nm, you?’ back, several hours later. UGHH. It was exhausting, having so many feelings about everything and everyone.

Most of these feelings were unrequited, of course. I think on some deranged level, I liked it that way. I wallowed in the pain and drama of it all. I can’t tell you how many friends I had who saw me as a confidante, someone they could go to for advice when they were sick with love. I’d happily listen, reply to all their texts (even if it used all £10 of my credit) and hog the family computer all evening to chat in mostly emoticons (remember those?) on MSN Messenger, when secretly, deep inside I’d be aching with sadness because all along, shockingly, I was in love with them. Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong With Me’ was basically my life, for a few years. In fact, the whole ‘Fearless’ album was my soundtrack; I’d listen to it on my iPod classic as I walked to and from school every day, picturing my crush of the moment and I dancing together or kissing in the rain or running through airports for each other. It was torturous… and exciting.

image source

Then came the loves that were reciprocated. Oh yes, there were some of those! Who’d have thought? They were all pretty wild rides – emotionally speaking, that is. Intense and instant chemistry, a spark that anyone around us could see, secret kisses in cupboards, code names we gave each other, hands almost touching as we walked side by side, tension you could cut through when our eyes met, flurries of texts one night and then silence for days. I got greedy, sometimes. I couldn’t get enough. I lived for the most dramatic moments, I gorged on angst and would set fire to the quiet comforts so things would be more interesting, if only for a short while. I played with boundaries between friendship and something more, because that was my favourite story line in books, films and TV shows. I remember being surprised when it didn’t work out as well in real life as it did in works of fiction.

My first love was my best friend. They were the first of many best-friend-turned-loves – and the reason I started this online diary of sorts, actually. The day we met we felt something big, and mutually decided it must be romantic, so we went on a date the following weekend. We went to the cinema and saw perhaps the worst film to watch on a first date. It became ‘our film’. But I turned out to be the misguided character in the end, who put too much of themselves into a fantasy. We had our first kiss at one train station, then decided to be ‘just friends’ at another, a few hours later. And for a year or so after that, we were truly terrible at being ‘just friends’.

I remember when it all imploded, and I sat crying onto my computer keyboard, quietly screaming in pain. It felt like a physical loss. You were suddenly gone. Then some time later, I was in Waterloo Station, and you called me. You’d forgiven me. Then we both started uni, and you came to visit me a couple of times. The timing still wasn’t quite right, now I think back to it. I met you off the train one day, emotionally hungover and spiraling badly after a silly night spent with another ‘friend’. You were there, and ready. I wasn’t. Another time, we went for lunch at my favourite diner, and I told you over a shared portion of fries that I’d started seeing someone. Another Northerner, with the same name as you, curiously enough. You laughed, and shook your head. We went out that night dressed up as geeks, in dungarees and fake glasses, and a few friends of mine asked if you were my long distance partner. We got home at 2am and ate buttery crumpets, then literally fell into bed together. Nothing happened. Between these two occasions, we met in London. We’d kiss now and again, in cafes and museums and parks, never in a big moment, but because it just felt like the natural thing to do. It made sense. It’s so weird to think back to that now, because to this day I’ve never been like that with anyone else. It inspired me. I wrote a novel about two characters who loved each other deeply, and wanted each other so badly, but never crossed that line. I always thought that was it; we’d come together again someday and it would be like no time had passed. It would just click. I thought of you when I read ‘One Day’. You were my Dexter. You weren’t the one that got away, you were the one I never made a go of it with. I know that if I had, things would be very different now. Because it would have stuck, I’m sure of that. But then ‘The Versions of Us’ also reminded me of you, and made me wonder – we may have been perfect together back then, but would it have lasted? How would we have coped with the distance, our different university experiences, and my health scares?

The last time I saw you, we had lunch at one of my favourite restaurants in London. A small chain, a branch I’d never been to. You’d said as we walked there, ‘I think you’ll like this place’. You weren’t to know I’d been going to the one near me for years – on a lot of dates. I remember looking at you over my pots of dim sum and coconut rice, thinking ‘it’s still you and me, but it’s not the same us’. You told me a little about your work, and gave me updates on your family. I laughed at all the crazy stories, and briefly pondered on how I’d always wanted them to be my in-laws. I asked after your girlfriend, and you told me it was good, and you were working hard to keep it that way. I felt warm and happy for you. Since that day, we’ve called each other drunk a few times, and exchanged the odd message on social media platforms – we’re not Facebook friends any more, though. That seems too intimate somehow. 

Today I found out you got married. An old friend of yours, another who you had a love story with once upon a time, told me. We’re both sad not to have known, nor been invited to celebrate with you. I’m giving some time to my teenage self today; remembering what I felt, what we had, and how heartbroken sixteen-year-old me would be to hear that it never went where she expected it to. I’ve cried at my breakfast table, put Taylor’s latest album on full blast and sung along in the shower – I’ve even asked David Nicholls for some wise words. I’ll say congratulations and move on tomorrow, but today I need to mourn for my old romantic self.

We were something, don’t you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

and if my wishes came true,

it would have been you.