So…a lot of crazy stuff has been happening in my personal life recently. Without saying too much, here’s a little photographic hint.
Stay tuned for the blog post that will give you the full low down (you won’t want to miss it, it’s going to be a juicy one). Expected publication date – two weeks today.
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Another one from deep within the MHAM draft posts that never made it to air…until now.
Back in 2021…
I was thinking to myself the other day “you know what? There aren’t enough podcasts in the world. And golly, there sure as heck aren’t enough opinions being shared around. I should do something to rectify this immediately!”
Or, alternatively, I saw an advert for the free podcasting creator, Anchor, and thought I’d give it a shot.
Several coffees later and some playing about with low-budget graphics and ta-da! A podcast was born:
(Before you say anything, I really cannot stress the low budget-ness of this production. Low budget in the sense there is none.)
Who knows what will become of this, but basically it’s me talking to myself for up to half an hour and in episode one I talk about what lead me to start writing a blog. If you enjoy the concept of a one-woman natter then you’re in for a right royal treat.
I honestly could not be selling this venture harder if I tried. It’s just something I’m giving a go at for a bit of fun.
“My Housemate’s a Mermaid – The Podcast” available on Spotify
Jumping back to 2025…
Surprise, surprise, it didn’t catch on and after forcing myself through four recordings I stopped podcasting and went back to pure writing. I think as much as anything it was the realisation that podcasting with free software is difficult (in that I found the free to use software incredibly limiting and of overall poor production value).
I’m currently in the process of getting the original recordings saved (would you believe it, the platform appears to give podcast owners no access to downloading their own work once published).
For now, enjoy the bittersweet car crash that was the MHAM podcast and who knows, maybe I’ll revive it one day on better terms.
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Wishing all of my wonderful readers a very happy Christmas. I hope you all get what you were wishing (present and otherwise), and make sure to have a decent sized glass of gin and/or wine on my behalf. Well, it is Christmas after all.
A couple of book reviews will go live during the festive break and don’t worry, there are plenty of fun and antics coming your way well into 2025.
(Because it never gets old.)
Have a good one and merry Christmas. AEB x
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On 11th November 2014, I went to the supermarket to buy toilet roll, which inspired me to start a blog. Ten years later, I’m still here.
Five years ago I wrote the very aptly named piece, Five Years Ago Today…. Aside from it being very surreal that five more years have gone by, a hell of a lot more has changed since then.
What MHAM is, and always will be, is an insight into my world, from the highs of getting my short stories published, to the foot injury lows and the ranty McRant face of Jus-Rol’s cinnamon swirls. It has also been the place to share all the wonderful holidays I’ve undertaken as a solo traveller and, more recently, with my wonderful “Boyfriend Ben”. I setup a social group for young people, moved to London, came back from London, built a career from a History degree in execution and country houses. I’ve volunteered for nine separate non profits, and met an amazing bloke who to this day continues to champion my corner, inspiring me to strive for the stars each and every day. It really has been a rollercoaster of emotional content.
Around the world there are so many instances of people being denied their freedom of expression and creativity, which is why I feel so privileged to have the family and professional career that supports me to keep doing what I love. It is the utter joy I get from recognition and compliments, the unexpected surprise when someone reaches out to say how much they enjoy my work. The odd competition win or shortlisting. It is those glints of gold that give me the euphoric buzz to keep hitting these keys.
In 2014, on that chilly dark night where nothing seemed possible, I discovered my voice. And you, the reader, are 75% of the reason why I’m still here. Thank you.
With little more to add, I will leave you with visual memories of the last ten years (and a couple from before) and a simple vow, that I will continue to write for ten more years and beyond, whatever form that takes.
May your hearts always be full and your coffee only slightly spilled.
AEB x
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From the makers of Seven Degrees of Pie, ladies and gentlemen, I present you with the collage-card I gifted my sister for her birthday:
Now, I know how it looks. It looks like I found a really old newspaper, cut it up and threw it altogether to squeeze into a birthday card…
In my defence, I didn’t realise the coupon for the iweekend newspaper was dated.
Besides, who couldn’t be left in absolute awe over the contents of this birthday card? It has words such as “amazing”, “5*”, “Discover Paradise”, and a inserts of a pilot with a ukulele and Richard Madeley with a knowing smile.
I obviously threw in some smudgy words into the gap before handing it to her, but we all know the real reason why it’s a birthday card she won’t forget in a hurry. After all, you know what they say, “don’t judge a [generic greetings card] by its cover.”
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Following official PR, I am now able to share with you details of two writing competitions I won, and their associated launch events. And, eek! They were both an absolute blast!
At the Bournemouth Writing Festival, I won in the fiction category for my piece of flash fiction, “How the Dressmaker of Bournemouth Feeds her Family”.
Boy, did Bournemouth pack a punch! As well as receiving free tickets to attend some interesting talks held by the festival, there was also a Sunday evening showcase and awards presentation.
There was a weird knotty feeling in the pit my stomach watching people read copies of the book, and it was only later that evening, when boyfriend Ben pretty much forced me to sit down and listen to him read my story, that I noted what I’d written was actually pretty good.
After the showcase, we made a toast to my success with a glass of prosecco and a McDonald’s in the hotel room. It was wonderful.
It was a truly delightful weekend (and that was before I got a mention in this glowing 5 star review!)
A lovely sunny weekend, spent on the English south coast.
The launch of Swindon Writers III came with a packed-out library venue, much to everyone’s surprise. Boyfriend Ben was unfortunately not feeling well on the night but I sent him a message to reassure him that I had more than enough attendees to keep me company.
Words were said by the editors and extracts read from the publication. To know my short story, “Bee Kind”, had been selected to sit alongside them in the book meant a lot.
Two book launches, two reasons to celebrate and a very happy author in between. As I say to people, prizes and publication aren’t the sole reason why we do what we do, but it damn well helps.
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I am thrilled to announce that flash fiction submission, “How the Dressmaker of Bournemouth Feeds her Family” has been shortlisted for publication in Bournemouth Writing Festival’s debut anthology.
Judge and Bournemouth academic, Charlotte Grace Fodor, said of the piece:
“How the Dressmaker of Bournemouth Feeds her Family” is a well-crafted, thought-provoking story with good attention to detail and is glittered with humour. I particularly enjoyed how the ending of the story adds depth and layers to the narrative, prompting the reader to reflect on themes of self-expression, transformation, and authenticity. The question posed by the shopkeeper…invites the reader to consider the choices we make in presenting ourselves to the world.
This question can be interpreted in various ways, encouraging introspection about personal growth and self-discovery.
Needless to say, I am completely over the moon by this news. Given the hundreds of submissions into this competition, I was more than flattered to have made the longlist, let alone the top 20. That in mind, I want to congratulate all of my fellow longlistees and thank all those involved in running this competition.
I’ll be joining my fellow winners for a special awards ceremony taking place as part of the festival later in April. Watch this space for updates!
Lines in the Sand will be published by Dithering Chaps on 26th April 2024. It is available for pre-order from Amazon, with physical copies available during the festival and from the publisher direct.
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To say Ben is into planes is more than a little modest, it is the understatement of the century. We both also happen to live close to Fairford, the Wiltshire RAF base which once a year becomes home to the Royal International Air Tattoo (RIAT).
Two slight issues with my initial plan of a date-day visit:
The solution? Volunteering!
Ben and I put enlisted as event volunteers, selling programmes to raise money for the RAF Charitable Trust. Two highlights were Ben saying “I didn’t think you were actually going to dance with a stack of programmes” and a police officer who tapped me on the shoulder and said, in an incredibly stern tone, “excuse me, madam, but do you work in a boxing ring?” (I was waving a programme high above my head at the time). After realising I wasn’t getting a telling me off, I laughed and waved it even higher.
I know it wasn’t meant to be a contest but Ben and I sold a lot of programmes from our combined efforts, a lot.
By noon we were released from volunteering duties and allowed to enjoy RIAT for the rest of the day, free of charge. We enjoyed both the static and air displays with plenty of sugary snacks and then, when the British weather turned we darted into Ben’s car and continued watching the displays, warm and dry and accompanied by RIAT’s FM radio commentary (another perk of volunteering, prime car parking).
Not even strong winds and rain could stop us laughing during our day at RIAT. I learnt a lot about planes (although I don’t see me becoming RAF recruitment material anytime soon) but I also got to learn more about the great work of the RAF Charitable Trust. All whilst having a cheap date day out with Ben. We came away with Ben’s vocal cords ripped to shreds and my arms and feet feeling the burn from all the dancing. But you know what? It was totally worth it.
You can find out more about volunteering opportunities at RIAT through their official website
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The evening before seeing historian and author Anna Beer I’m sat at home, drafting a book review. Most of my reviews are for self-published titles, books where authors need the extra push to help them up the rankings. This particular book is a self-help guide for women navigating the menopause. It’s really good, certainly one of the more informed guides I’ve read in recent months. I finish typing my conclusion, knowing I’ll return to this review at least twice more to make edits before uploading it onto Reedsy. In that moment life feels good.
Barely 24 hours later…
“If I have to read another book on the menopause I’ll throw it across the room!”
It’s a statement that says a lot about the personality of this speaker, a strange mix of fire and frustration blended with ease and informality. Anna Beer has made her entrance.
Beer’s newest publication, Eve Bites Back, puts forgotten female authors front and centre of her historical research. Women like Mary Elizabeth Bradon, who wrote Lady Audley’s Secret in 1861-2 as a serialised publication for sixpenny magazines. She wrote the first instalment in just one evening. Such as the power of her words, when her original publisher ceased trading, another stepped in to print the remainder of the book. Bradon was a household name of her time, a literary celebrity, yet for every hundred mentions of her contemporary Charles Dickens, nowadays you will struggle to find one of Bradon.
Beer pauses for breath, taking only the slightest sip of tap water from her glass. The plight of Bradon isn’t the body of Beer’s argument, quite the reverse, the historian is only just warming up.
Bradon’s fate is not only applicable to the female authors of books, Beer argues. Another example, the poet Emilia Lanier (née Aemilia Bassano) also spent a good portion of her life swimming in the same pool as other masterful contemporaries. A 16th Century creative living in London, Lanier would have known fully of the playwright William Shakespeare, it is believed she was even mixing in the same aristocratic circles as him (although less known about whether the pair ever met).
Lanier was 42 years old when she published Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum, a poetry collection highly praised by all genders, even with its undertones many would now regard as feminist leaning. And yet, once again, in the 21st Century relatively little is known of Lanier. Why? Because, Beer argues, Lanier simply didn’t have the same number of influential promoters as Shakespeare.
Beer smiles, one hand gripping the podium, the other pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s hit her stride, that juicy zone when academics become unstoppable, overwhelming charisma tinged by a slight arrogance. They know they’re right and you can’t help but nod along. Beer rattles through woman after woman, their names piling up like endless bodies cast below the stage we sit before. If she carries on at this rate the whole auditorium will be drowned before the hour is finished.
“I must mention Lady Mary Montague,” she adds between breaths, “oh, and someone ask me about Anna Wickham if there’s time!”
Watching her recount all these unknown literary greats, it makes me both proud and embarrassed to be a woman. Society imprinted on me many of Britain’s literary greats, only now am I realising that all of them just so happened to be white men. If anything Beer’s work proves that there were more female authors out there than can be feasibly brushed under the carpet.
The evening draws to a close and with the round of applause comes a sudden longing for a fresh air. The auditorium at the Swindon Arts Centre empties and, not realising quite how hot I’d become inside, I’m relieved to be sucking in a large mouthful of cool spring air.
Within minutes of getting home my laptop is thrown open and a multitude of female names punched into my search engine. The internet crashes momentarily, I hit refresh multiple times, forcing it on until the algorithm finally caves in to my demands. The more I search the more I’m left wanting and by the end of the night I have an Amazon basket filled with books, not one of which written by a man.
To hear Beer talk so energetically on her book Eve Bites Back and wider literary feminism fills me with optimism for what this field of study can offer us all. Knowing that it took Jane Austen twenty years to convert her thoughts into a recognised publication is also enough to keep my own creative aspirations alive. (Although for what it’s worth, I won’t be forwarding Anna Beer a copy of my menopause book review anytime soon.)
Previous Swindon Literary Event write ups from AEB:
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So, this happened the other day…
Admittedly, it’s a bit blurry (you can tell I was overwhelmed). Here’s a better angle:
And the wider surroundings…
It’s a straight road, no immediate bends or turns and yet the car has somehow not only flipped but also spun on its roof.
Current levels of confusion are right up there with that episode of the IT Crowd where Roy tries to work out how a “Sea Parks” arena could catch fire.
Theories on what could have caused this accident to happen are very much welcomed (mash potato reconstruction is likely to happen otherwise.)
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My Housemate's a Mermaid 