Well. That Wasn't The Plan.

I had a plan.

It was a good plan. Lovely husband, thriving business, family around me, books to write. Life was ticking along nicely, thank you very much.Then 2022 arrived and apparently didn’t get the memo.

My mum died. My biological mother died. My husband was diagnosed with brain cancer. In the same year. I’d like to say I handled it with grace and dignity but there was a lot of ugly crying in supermarket carparks, so let’s just say I handled it.

2023 took another close family member. 2024 took my dad, my father-in-law, my husband, and — on the actual day of my dad’s funeral — my bird. Even my bird. Then our business went into liquidation and in 2025 I sold my house to pay the debts and started again from scratch.

I am now menopausal, frequently bewildered, buying my first home on my own at an age I never expected to be doing that, and I talk to number plates.

I should explain that last part.

My husband still visits. I know how that sounds. But he spells things out in number plates, songs pop into my head at exactly the right moment, I smell my dad’s hair out of nowhere, and my home has more angels, guides and spirits dropping in than a very spiritual Airbnb. I find it comforting. My psychologist finds it interesting. We’re both right.

I stopped writing for a long time. Grief does that — it sits on your chest and makes everything that used to come easily feel completely out of reach. But I’m back now. Slowly, then all at once, some days not at all - the way these things tend to go.

I’m rebuilding. The business, the writing career, the life. I’m a mum and a Nannie to two grandsons who think I’m hilarious, mostly for the wrong reasons. I do a lot of dumb things. I cry at unexpected moments. I laugh at inappropriate ones. I’m going for a traditional publishing deal. I’m writing about a menopausal heroine because if anyone is qualified for that particular assignment, it’s me.

I don’t always know why I’m still here. But I’m starting to think the answer might be worth finding out.

So — welcome to my Substack. There are books. There’s a gossip column from a fictional town full of women who won’t stay quiet. And there’s this: me, figuring it out, one ridiculous day at a time.

Come in. Grab a coffee. Mind the spirits.