I’ve written a book, so I wrote a Substack post about why I’ve written a book. (Link in bio or go to https://bit.ly/wroteabook) Navigating your forties is no picnic despite the empowerment and embracing of your authentic self that the socials throw at us. So I’ve written the post and the book for all the misfits, for those that feel a little lost, for those still searching for themselves and for those craving a bit of nineties nostalgia. #Novel #TimeTravelIsCheaperThanTherapy #Writer #90s

✍🏻 In a bid to try and forget about her imploding life, she used her final pay check to book two weeks in the south of France. The warm air and long purposeless walks were proving therapeutic, until four days in when she turned a corner and saw ‘the bastard’ taking photos outside a closed down shop-come-bar. Instant rage erupted in her chest. What were the chances of her arsehole ex-boss turning up in the same French town she’d escaped to in order to re-evaluate her life? Maybe it was fate. He looked no different, still adhering to his regimented office uniform of crisp navy trousers, tight fitting waistcoat and brashly coloured shirt. Two months earlier she’d stood in his office as he gleefully explained that her role was no longer viable. Other words he’d carefully selected included ‘surplus, dispensable, unnecessary’. After twenty years of committed service, in just a few months everything changed. What she thought was important suddenly wasn’t. The people she spoke to daily became strangers. Her commute, no longer needed. Even her lunch routine was assigned to the bin. She’d spent her entire adult life creating a safe and routine world, quietly showing up day after day, yet it had all so quickly collapsed into rubble. Thank you and goodbye. Well actually, not even a thank you or goodbye. Just ‘clear your desk by morning’. She stared at him now snapping poorly framed photos on a camera that cost more than her entire holiday. The urge to snatch it from his hands and smash it repeatedly against the wall was overpowering and her legs twitched with adrenalin. But even in that giddy second she knew the feeling of satisfaction would be short lived and she craved more. He deserved a longer lasting punishment for being an utter knob. Which is why she followed him back to his hotel (at a reasonable distance obviously, she’d seen enough movies to know how to successfully stalk someone). And after watching him walk up the concierged steps of his five star hotel, she headed back to her own more modest accommodation to plan his total downfall. #Story #Writing #Revenge

✍🏻 Calm elevator music drifts out from the empty tube station, at odds with the laughter of Rae and Stella as they stumble inside clinging to one another for support. The cream-coloured wall tiles look recently scrubbed and the large green plants seem too luscious to be real. Perhaps if they hadn’t had six too many glasses of wine they might notice this about their surroundings, but it’s been a good night, so instead they strut their way through the open gates and step shakily onto the escalators. Reaching the bottom, a blast of cold air pushes them back, so they charge forwards like a pair of giggling bulls in high heels, bursting onto the empty platform laughing. Fifteen minutes later, when there’s no sign of any trains, Rae shuffles to the help point and indelicately slams the button. ‘Hello, where are the trains?’ She adds a belated and elongated please but there’s still no reply, just a hollow vacuum, as if the call is connecting into a large empty room. Moving closer to the platform edge, Rae’s foot slips from underneath her and she stumbles backwards. She glances across at Stella, now asleep on a bench. Come on Stel, night bus.’ Pulling her friend to her feet, they head towards the ‘Way Out’ sign, a deco-style green arch that somehow makes you feel like you could crawl through it. Walking down the long bright tunnel they take a sharp turn at the end but instead of finding an escalator, they find another long tunnel, ending in a similar, equally sharp turn. Swearing loudly, Stella takes of her shoes despite Rae’s insistence it’s gross, and they continue on. At the end of the second tunnel, they find themselves standing back on the platform next to the ‘Way Out’ sign they started at. What begins as confusion turns to panic after they try this route twice more with the same result, then fail to find the escalator they originally came down on. Realising their phones have no signal, then hearing the sound of sharp footsteps, followed abruptly by an indescribable scream, Rae kicks off her shoes and they both begin to run. #Writing #Tube #FlashFiction #Storyteller #Writers

As 2026 begins, I’m reflecting on how our final trip to Hawkins, reminded me of what truly brings me joy - the power of storytelling. And shout out to @breakupmonologues for her post about Dustin’s valedictorian speech (an important lesson for us all from what is arguably Stranger Things best character). Head over to my Substack to read more, subscribe and let me know your thoughts. Link in Bio or https://bit.ly/allaboutthestories #StrangerThings #Storytelling #Stories #2026 #Hawkins

✍🏻 ✍🏻 During the Spring of 1992, I was on the verge of turning sixteen and deeply entrenched in my Nirvana obsession. My world hadn’t yet stretched beyond the boundaries of my small town and life revolved around surviving school and meeting my mates at the weekend. I thought I knew it all but I was about to realise just how naive that was. On Saturday May 9th, I headed into town to meet my best friend Rachel by the ‘pink lady’, which is what we called the large mural painted under the railway bridge. As I stood there waiting, the smell of vinegar from the nearby chip shop hit the back of my throat, making me wish I’d eaten something for breakfast. With food now the only thing on my mind and Rachel running late as usual, I wandered over to get a small portion of chips that I planned to smother in ketchup. Glancing to my right, down a small side street, I saw what I still wish I hadn’t. My dad, his lips locked with a woman I recognised from the dentist office. Watching them grabbing, pulling and desperately clawing at each other, it felt like I was submerged underwater and unable to swim. They giggled their way towards my dad’s car and fell inside laughing as my life fell apart. Staggering away with heavy limbs, I made my way home in a daze, forgetting about chips, Rachel, and whatever the day could have been. When I walked back into the house, I was met by my mum’s beaming smile and I knew instantly I could never tell her what I’d just seen. Even now, thirty-three years later, I still feel the same. #Storytelling #Writing #90s #Writer #Family