Lucy Nichol's Blog

When Sally Killed Harry - my new book under my new name!

Hello! Just wanted to share a note on here for anyone who follows/has read my books that my new one - being my debut thriller - is under the name Lucy Roth.

It's called When Sally Killed Harry and it's available to request on NetGalley - or ping me a message if you're a follower/previous reader and not already on there and fancy a read.

TW: It's a feminist revenge thriller, and, while there's fun and frolics (and serial killers) there are also some conversations about sexual assault/rape and its impact.

Anyway - just putting it out there that this one is my new one - under my new genre name!!When Sally Killed Harry

Remind me again how women are *meant* to look?

Frightful, freakish or hidden away seem to be the only answers…

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged on here and I’m going to be honest…I’ve kind of headed into Substack land where us authors have all been advised to hang out.

So I thought I’d share my latest post on here to give you a taste for what I’m currently writing about (women and feminism, as well as writing, books, wellbeing and music), in the hope that you might join me and subscribe to my Substack (which you can do right here).

In the meantime, here’s my latest post…

Remind me again how women are *meant* to look?

I saw a Guardian article recently about opera actor, Rose Knox-Peebles. She was speaking out after receiving a review in The FT that described her as being ‘made up’ to look ‘a fright’ on stage.

She responded saying that she had not been made up – this was simply what she looked like.

According to the Guardian, Rose Knox-Peebles, who is 82, said she had better things to do than worry about a critic who confuses an opera stage with a catwalk.

Her response was an inspiration indeed – as many of us really do get bogged down with society’s expectations of how a woman should look.
But the problem is, you simply can’t win.

Take Madonna, 64. The queen of pop is constantly being criticised for her looks. The media had a field day after her appearance at the Grammy’s earlier this year – with headlines such as ‘Plastic surgeons weigh in on Madonna’s face’ and basically just a shit ton of bitchy addresses to Madonna, often from women (one of which then went on to compare Madonna to other ‘Gen X’ stars who hadn’t had work done but who were about 15 years younger anyway…)

If you attempt to adhere to society’s expectations, you get called a ‘freak’ (NY Post on Madonna – I wont share it in full).

If you don’t adhere, you’re called ‘a fright’.

So what’s the answer? Are older women, (and as a 45 year old I count myself as being in that bracket) supposed to simply disappear? Apparently we can’t be seen in public with work done, and we can’t be seen without.

I’m not going to pretend that I’m happy with the way my skin is ageing, or the fact that it’s getting harder to keep myself feeling fit and toned. And, yes, if I’m honest, I absolutely would consider getting something done – although I’m not sure if the fact my veins seem more prominent on my hands these days is of concern to me because I hate seeing veins or because it reminds me that I am ageing and that’s, apparently, not socially acceptable.

To be honest, these unrealistic societal expectations are so heavily ingrained in all of us it’s nigh on impossible to work out which bits of yourself you genuinely don’t like and which bits you are simply told you shouldn’t like.

You spend decades learning to feel more confident in your body, in your sexuality, in your independence and assertiveness, then, when you finally feel like you’re getting there, the world turns around and slags you off for it.
Thankfully, Madonna was just as direct in her response as Rose Knox-Peebles. Posting a picture of herself a few days after the Grammy’s shitstorm of toxic criticism she said: ‘Look how cute I am now that the surgery swelling has gone down. Lol.’

Until we stop seeing ‘reviews’ of an older woman’s ‘performance’ that describes, instead, her looks, and, worse still, describes those looks as ‘a fright’, we will no doubt continue to see many women deciding to go under the knife/needle/whatever. And I’m not ruling myself out of that, either. How can I?
It’s hard being a woman regardless of this kind of shaming. And it comes at us from all directions – even if the specific insults happen to be solely directed at a celebrity or artist.

It’s really a comment on all of us.

Women shouldn’t feel that they have to change their appearance to fit into society, or to perform in their job, or feel attractive. But it’s accepted that we do it most days with make-up anyway – it just so happens some of us go further with lip plumper or fillers or surgery…

Until we are accepted as who we are, society should accept that women have the right to choose how they respond to such an outdated idea of ageing that shows no sign of abating. We have to exist in this world after all.

If we stand against Madonna for changing her appearance, if we criticise Rose Knox-Peebles for the natural look, we’re basically saying there’s no place for older women.

And without us, without our energy and ideas and experience and passion, I reckon the world would be a pretty pants place.

Fin.

Hope you found the read of interest. Please do subscribe to my substack, Larking With Words, where I’ll be sharing a weekly post and various rambly notes in the app.

Next week I’m pondering the similarities between the witch trials and toxic misogynistic workplaces…they just swapped burnings and drownings for P45s and NDAs…

Watch the new book trailer for NO WORRIES IF NOT!

Do you end every email with the words no worries if not?

Do you apologise to the beauty therapist when you wince because they’ve been a bit hazardous with the old bikini wax?

Perhaps you say sorry to the manspreader on the train before you ask him to budge up?

Relate?

If so, hopefully you might enjoy my new book…it’s got far too many apologies, a feminist punch, a romantic will-they-wont-they, best friends, Star Wars and mug cakes, cringey workplaces, bad dates and some ridiculous farcical escapades. It’s available for pre-order right now, and will be with you in time for the summer holidays (publishes 3rd August). PLUS, the Kindle edition is available during the pre-order period for just 99p! So I’d get in there if I were you

Pre-order No Worries if Not!

So please do check it out. If you can. And you’ve got time on your hands. I mean, no worries if not. you absolutely should, in fact, just pre order it.

WATCH THE TRAILER BELOW

Credits:Script/director/bus driver: Chris Connel

Director of Photography: Topher McGrillis

Charlotte: Chess Tomlinson

Greg: Dean Bone

Barista: Simon Trelfa

Extras (or should we say ‘supporting artistes?’): Lucy Nichol (author – me!), Lucy Nichol (sister in law – yes it does get confusing with often amusing mis-directed text messages) and Sam Nichol (my awesome stepson).

Huge thanks must go to:

Go North East for the lend of the bus

Recovery Connections for letting us run riot on location at Fork in the Road, Middlesbrough (an absolutely wonderful social enterprise that generates employment opportunities and funding for Recovery Connections – a regional charity with a national reach that supports people affected by addiction).

Let me know what you think in the comments! And please feel free to share!

Lucy x

Alternative book trailer: No Worries if Not!

Hi book lovers

I just wanted to share our brand new trailer for my upcoming book, No Worries if Not - a rom com with a feminist punch, will-they-wont-they vibes, best mates, mug cakes and cringey forced office fun.

It’s been filmed more like a movie trailer (without the silly deep voice!) and it stars some brilliant north east talent - Chess Tomlinson and Dean Bone.

If it resonates, please add No Worries if Not to your goodreads TBR and maybe stick in a pre order (it’s on sale for just 99p on kindle during the pre order period).

Due out on 3rd August. Just in time for the summer holidays. Hope you like it!

WATCH THE TRAILER HERE

Add No Worries If Not! to your lists

How many emails do you end with the words No Worries if Not!?

Do you squirm at a smear test and apologise?

Wince at a bikini wax and say sorry?

Perhaps you ask to rearrange a meeting that a colleague’s put in, last minute might I add, on your birthday, and yet you finish the email with no worries if not…

But you don’t mean it, do you? So why say it? Why give people a get out clause?

Feel seen? Then you might want to add my new book, No Worries If Not!, to your ‘To Read’ list? It’s a rom com on a mission, where one woman vows to break up with ‘sorry’.

Charlotte Thomas is polite. Manners cost nothing, her mother always said … yet there’s a fine line between diplomat and doormat.

But every woman has their breaking point and Charlotte has just found hers. It wasn’t because she said sorry to her boss for challenging his terrible idea for a staff social, or because she apologised to the drunk girl who spilled espresso martini all over her favourite top. And it wasn’t because she agreed to go on a second date with the world’s most boring man to avoid hurting his feelings. Maybe it was all of these, or maybe it was when she realised she ended every email with the fateful words: No Worries If Not.

With the help of her best friend and housemate Mush, Charlotte declares she’s apologising no more. No more saying sorry for just doing her job, or speaking her mind or simply taking up space.

So when she finds her space being invaded by a manspreader on the Metro, Charlotte lets rip. When she’s finished shouting about why he’s the rudest man she’s ever met, she realises, annoyingly, that not only is he the best looking man she’s ever had the misfortune to sit next to … he’s actually really nice about it all too.

With her unapologetic pledge off to a tricky start, will Charlotte be, dare she say it … sorry she even started this?

Out from HarperNorth on 3rd August, it’s available to pre-order now. And I’d LOVE it if you fancied adding it to your Goodreads lists. Of course, however, I imagine you have a huge TBR so, no worries if not…

Oops I did it again…

No Worries If Not!

I can’t imagine being stuck in this traffic jam…

A few words on the conflict in Ukraine – and how to help.

I can’t imagine being stuck in this traffic jam. At first glance it looks like any other. An irritatingly, bile-rising and frustrating situation, bound to flare the tempers of anyone stuck in its centre or joining its tail. But impulsive end of queue u-turns aren’t likely to be actioned. A resignation that even though another route is longer, at least we’ll be moving, going somewhere…

I can’t imagine being stuck in this traffic jam. Leaving behind a once safe familiarity for the unknown. The hygge we’re all so keen to celebrate and embrace long gone, not even imaginable at this point. Pets, blankets, photos, toys – old memories and ones yet to be made. In the place we call home.

I can’t imagine being stuck in this traffic jam, as I sit typing into my iPad from my bed, cat curled up next to me, the window on a crack and the distant sound of traffic humming and near sound of birds squawking. A biscuit brew having already warmed me through and prepared me for a day of relaxation. The pictures so far removed on social media and in newspapers and on the TV.

I can’t imagine being stuck in this traffic jam because everything they have left behind I can take for granted. Angered by war yet largely unaffected. Emotions soothed by safety and togetherness, so far from a fearful, unknowing plight. Sitting in the front seat, wondering how to reassure the little ones sitting frightened in the back..

I can’t imagine being stuck in this traffic jam. Can you? So how can we help? https://www.globalcitizen.org/…/ways-to-help-ukraine…/

Too shy shy…

If there’s one thing that I hate about myself it’s my history of debilitating shyness. In fact, it’s something I was chatting with my counsellor about just a matter of weeks ago. I said I was so ANGRY with young, shy me. I wanted to look back on a teenager who was punk rock, riotous and out there. A teenager who stood up for herself and who knew how to get what she wanted. 

Instead, I reflect on a teenager who was mute, reserved and very much hiding inside her own shell.

And, as I told my therapist, I despise her. 

But then we did that thing that you do in therapy around self-compassion, and seeing that young girl as exactly that – a young girl. 

And I realised I was being pretty fucking mean and nasty to 15 year old me. Forty-somethings shouldn’t behave like that should they. That poor girl! That total bitch!

The reason I’m writing this post is because I’ve just watched Rhod Gilbert’s Stand Up To Shyness documentary. And of course you’re watching thinking, but he’s a bloody comedian. There’s no way he’s as shy as I’ve been… 

Rhod Gilbert’s Stand Up To Shyness documentary is still available on BBC iPlayer

But then he tells you that he can’t walk into a coffee shop and sit down with a cuppa because he’s too self-conscious and you think, well, maybe he is more shy, but he’s definitely better liked than me…And I bet he doesn’t get obsessed with the idea that he’s going to pee his pants. Or that he’s going to sweat so much that half of his wardrobe’s out of bounds for any social event.

And on it goes…did someone say self-compassion? What’s that about again? And how do I get some?

I’m really not shy today, but I still struggle with self-esteem. And I still struggle with weird little things. Why can’t I join in with the chants at a basketball game? Why can’t I strike fun or silly poses in front of a camera like everyone else can? And why do I break out in sweats at networking events (sorry for saying that word – I know just the mere mention of it can bring some people out in a cold sweat).

Going against the (shy) grain…

There was an interesting scene in the documentary where Rhod sees a therapist about his shyness. She says that in some ways he’s already done the things he needs to do to combat shyness. He’s a stand up comedian so he’s kind of facing his fear of not wanting to be noticed head on. He’s been recorded and played back time and again on screens big and small – something, the therapist tells us, is a tool that is used in CBT to help shy people see how they really come across.

I asked my oldest friends about shyness after watching the film. One of my friends suggested that maybe the reason I went to work in PR for a theatre company was purely because I was shy. PR she said, is audacious. 

And when I think back there’s definitely something in it. As a kid I was always performing in plays, going to disco dance class, dressing up as Madonna (and then Courtney Love as the years ticked by…) but I couldn’t speak to boys and I hated being asked a question in class.

I was never shy when it came to dancing or pretending to be Madonna as a kid. (that’s me far left at the back). This was taken around the same time I went to school in a shrunken old woolly jumper to avoid attention from the boys.

Still, in my 3rd year of high school, I picked GCSE Drama as one of my options and my teacher actually warned me about how daunting I might find it. After all, I barely spoke a word in high school and I still had flashbacks from the last Christmas play we did in junior school (I was cast in a small part as a character called ‘Fairy Lights’ and therefore had to wear a leotard and tu-tu which, due to my current state of adolescence was blatantly highlighting my need for a trainer bra to the rest of my class and all the parents in the audience. I therefore performed the whole thing with my arms crossed over my chest. MORTIFYING).

I was so cripplingly shy. But I did drama GCSE anyway. And I passed. Just.

I remember in junior school, one of the lads in class wolf-whistled at me on the walk home one day and I was so red-faced that the next day I went into school wearing one of my mum’s old jumpers. A classmate asked what on earth I was doing – ‘you’re normally pretty cool’ she said. I couldn’t bear to tell her why I’d really worn that shrunken old woolly jumper. Especially when all I really wanted to wear was my backless top a la Kylie Minogue in her I Should Be So Lucky era. (I did wear that top to school once and ALL the boys in class wolf-whistled. Honestly, I just wanted to get swallowed up by the grey lino floor of the mobile classroom we were learning in. The lino never opened up to take me away from my catastrophic embarrassment. So I just put my jumper back on and sweated even more.)

I was never shy when it came to dancing or pretending to be Madonna as a kid. (that’s me far left at the back). This was taken around the same time I went to school in a shrunken old woolly jumper to avoid attention from the boys.

I remember when I was a bit older as a teenager, one friend said to me that she wished I would open my mouth and speak. I’d sit silently, almost mute, occasionally laughing along but feeling completely unable to join in with whatever conversation was flowing along with the taboo and lemonade. I felt I had everything to say but I was far too afraid of making a fool of myself. So it always went unsaid.

When you realise that shyness is getting in the way of your teen years – the years that are meant to be the most fun and experimental – what can you do?

Drink lots of cheap Lambrini.

That horrible bottle of sweet fizzy wine was my saviour. To a degree.

It got me out enjoying my nights out, dancing all night at clubs – sometimes even getting up on the podium in my friend’s silver PVC hot pant space suit (you’d do a bit of podium or stage dancing to get free entry to ‘Mantra’ when you were a skint college student).

I was usually quite comfortable on the dance floor though. I didn’t need to interact with anyone. And I could pretend to be someone else entirely…

Taboo, Lambrini, Drambuie and the various white pills and powders that forced me to talk and feel a little bit special actually were a God-send. Even if they more than likely played a starring role in the ensuing panic attacks that I lived with for many years since…

PR baby

I never really considered why I went for that job in PR at a theatre company before my friend brought it up today. She was right though – it was one of the most out there professions in one of the most out there industries. I was surrounded by actors and directors and artsy types and I loved every minute of being in that environment. Except I didn’t love the minutes where it was down to me to take control of a situation, deal with an interview that was going off track, speak in front of an audience or appear live on radio (I’ll never forget my impromptu Viking FM radio appearance. It still makes me cringe).

I also fell in love while working at that theatre company – with an actor who I eventually married. I acted so aloof with him that he thought I absolutely HATED him. I even, literally, ran away from him if I saw him in the supermarket. But inside I was desperate to snog the face off this talented and funny Geordie bloke – I just couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing I wanted to snog the face off him, which is probably why it took about four years and lots of Hull Truck Theatre Christmas party booze to make it happen. 

Working as a Press Officer for Hull Truck Theatre

Don’t expect everyone to love your true self when you finally let her out…

One thing I have learned, however, is that the consequences of stamping out your shyness aren’t wholly positive. I still struggle with self-esteem, but I don’t think I could claim that I’ve been shy for a good few years now.

People who meet me generally wouldn’t think I was shy in any way at all. I’m fairly outspoken, I enjoy public speaking, I’ve enjoyed podcasting and speaking on radio and TV (and I’m much better at it than I used to be in those disastrous early PR days).

So maybe the shy part of me that dominated my life for so long has vanished over time. But there is one thing that makes me nervous. One context that I simply cannot thrive in – and that’s the workplace.

I don’t know what it is about workplaces but, for many years I’ve been fairly unpopular in the office. I think the only times I remember not being especially unpopular was when I was still fairly shy. I guess it was because I didn’t put enough of myself out there for people to make a judgment either way. But now I’m fairly gregarious when it comes to my work – I love what I do, take great pride in it and become overly focused on achieving things. And so maybe I forget how to be socially acceptable? I really don’t know what it is… 

Nobody has ever directly said to me that they don’t like me. But there have been moments that made such feelings incredibly apparent. Being given a new job and literally moments later one of my new team telling me they were going to ‘work to rule’. So that set me off on a good start. And the time when a bunch of us were going to London for the day and I booked onto a different train because I was convinced they wouldn’t want me sitting with them. And there was a time when a colleague leading on a project bought everyone a little gift and thank you card for their work on said project. But there were two of us who worked on the project who didn’t get a card never mind a gift – and I knew that the other person wasn’t very popular with the colleague so I kind of came to the same conclusion about myself. I still wonder what it was that I did – or didn’t do – but I try not to worry too much. Because I made the best decision I could ever make – I’m self-employed. I don’t have to worry about being the unpopular one in the office anymore! 

So perhaps letting down the guard and being your true self isn’t going to make you instantly likeable or popular. Perhaps, like me, you’re a bit marmitey for whatever reason. But then I guess that’s the next stage of dealing with shyness and poor self-esteem – accepting that not everyone’s going to like you and that it doesn’t have to make your life any less fulfilling. 

I mean, if my idol as a teen was Courtney Love, then in some ways I’ve got that marmitey thing in common with her.

But then she’s so punk rock and riotous and out there and I’m just…

…clearly in need of some self compassion…

If you enjoyed this blog, you might enjoy my novel, THE TWENTY SEVEN CLUB. Set in the 90’s, it’s a story of friendship, fandom and mental health – with a good dollop of humour in.

To order from the UK click here

To order from the US click here

Book review: Bright Burning Things by Lisa Harding

I was introduced to this book at an online event hosted by Bryony Gordon to explore how we talk about alcohol and relationships in literature. Lisa was on the panel, along with Shuggie Bain author Douglas Stuart (that one’s on my Christmas list) and I was really taken by the words from all three authors…

I finished reading Bright Burning Things by Lisa Harding last night and I’m going to give it 5 stars…but not because it was great fun to read. It wasn’t. But like all art, we need to be provoked in many different ways to really understand the world around us. Thanks to Lisa’s literary talents, Bright Burning Things allowed me to step inside the shoes of someone struggling and not only see the challenges faced, but to feel them too.

Bright Burning Things is about former actress and current single mum Sonya and her destructive relationship with alcohol that soon devastates and jeopardises her relationship with her four year old son, Tommy.

The book opens in chaos. We know Sonya is drunk, and we’re pretty much sharing in her double vision and broken thoughts. It’s exhausting, and incredibly difficult not to feel frustrated at the neglect that she is putting Tommy and their lovable dog Herbie through. Even though this is written from the point of view of Sonya, you can practically feel her boys’ hunger pangs, as she falls in and out of consciousness, leaving Tommy and Herbie to fend for themselves. We don’t need to read Tommy’s mind to know how scared he is and how much of an adult he is trying to be in the absence of an attentive mother. His actions and words show us just how frightened he is, regardless of how our unreliable narrator sees them through her warped intoxicated mind.

Without going too much into the plot and sharing spoilers, this is a story of getting sober, facing a past and trying to become a good mum. Having looked on the Goodreads reviews, most of which are great, I wonder if perhaps the reason that some readers are left feeling dissatisfied is because Sonya’s problems don’t disappear neatly and tidily once the alcohol has dried up. She doesn’t automatically become a good mum overnight because she’s sober. And I think this is why I found the book so compelling. In many ways, I feel that this is shining a light on the fact that problems with addiction are less about the substance, and more about an underlying pain or trauma. That’s definitely what comes to mind in Sonya’s case.

Her problematic relationship with her dad might be due to her drinking. But it might also be due to the fact that he is also a broken man, having lost his wife, Sonya’s mum, many years ago. With two broken people there’s rarely a clear right or wrong, just a case of neither being especially present for the other.

We also meet a love interest who, sadly, appears to be gaslighting Sonya and controlling her. You might be tempted to wonder if Sonya’s simply over-reacting, putting up barriers, not allowing herself to fall in love. But then you remember his words. And regardless of what Sonya thinks and feels about him, there’s definitely something disturbing about his behaviour. Another broken soul perhaps?

Recovery can be an amazing, life-changing experience for those who find it. But it’s rarely a straight line of upwards progression and positivity. And I think that’s what we’re seeing here. That alcohol was covering something up, hiding some pain, allowing Sonya to function – until she could function with it no more. But without alcohol, Sonya is still clearly unwell – and she has to almost rebuild her life from scratch, learning how to be a mum just as any new mum might. It’s frustrating because you want things to be OK. You want to believe that, with the wine bottles out of the way, Sonya will be responsible, and she’ll put her son and her pets first. And you can see her try – in the packed lunch she rushes to buy for Tommy’s school dinner, only to be reprimanded for getting it wrong.

And, once again, she’s off swimming in the sea leaving Tommy and her dog and kitten shivering on the beach. Or she’s racing around the park in the rain while they run free and alone…

Sonya is clearly trying to escape her demons. She’s desperately trying to calm her racing thoughts and keep herself on track. She’s putting her sobriety first. Which is a good thing – she might not be perfect, but she’s not dangerously drunk. And if she wants to look after her family, she has to put sobriety first. The problem here isn’t her approach, more, it’s her circumstances. She has nobody she can trust to lean on. She has to battle the bad fairies while simultaneously being a mum. Some people might come out of rehab with a partner or close friend able to pick up on the day to day responsibilities giving them time to invest in recovery. Sonya doesn’t have that – she’s just doing her best.

Sonya is flawed and often infuriating – but she isn’t unlikeable. You feel frustrated with her just as you do any character you’re cheering on who’s doing something you know, as the reader or viewer, is no good for them whatsoever. Whether it’s someone going it alone into the darkness outside to check where the strange noises were coming from, taking back an abusive partner, or, in Sonya’s case, swimming in the sea and leaving her son alone on the beach.

The ingredients for recovery from any mental health problem are multi-dimensional – just as the causes of them are. Which is why we don’t see a healthy and happy ending here. Sonya doesn’t have the support networks around her. She doesn’t have the therapy she needs to face her past trauma. She doesn’t have the coaching she needs to learn to be a good mum again.

Don’t read this book looking for a happy ever after. But if you want to really understand the complexities of addiction and recovery – including the ugly bits and the darker bits – through beautiful writing and real characters, then this book will be an eye opener to how some people strive to survive, and how a talented writer uses her craft to take you directly into her character’s chaotic mind.

I don’t think we need to relate to a character to find a book invaluable and powerful for whatever reason. I didn’t relate to Sonya, but I found empathy for her. And I feel as though the book concludes with Sonya at the very beginning of her recovery journey. And that’s OK. Because recovery, surely, lasts a lifetime.

Review: Haddock and Chips

A play by Janet Plater

From CaroleW Productions / Directed by Jake Murray

Starring Phillippa Wilson and Joe Caffrey

I haven’t seen much theatre lately (obvs) but I was so glad I ventured out to Gosforth Civic Theatre for this one. Haddock and Chips says so much that we need to hear right now making it the perfect post-lockdown play. But it’s so much more than that.

Haddock and Chips is about community – and it reminds us that the things we take for granted play a much more important role in our lives than we give them credit for. Take Frankie’s Chippy, where Bob and Brenda work (great character names btw – I’ve a Bob and Brenda in my novel too). Brenda (Phillippa Wilson) is so immersed in the local community that Bob (Joe Caffrey) constantly reminds her that she’s a fish fryer – not a social worker. Interestingly though, Bob’s role also stretches beyond the remit of satisfying hungry customers with cod ’n’ chips or a battered sausage.

And it soon becomes clear that the customers don’t just go to Frankies for scran either…

Communities have their problems – and Frankie’s community is no exception. Through a range of brilliantly acted characters we learn of family fallouts, cheating, gossip, stigma and even a missing child…But we also learn that in communities we can find purpose, friendship, responsibility and support. Just because there’s no formal structure to it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. You just have to look in the less obvious places to realise where the community’s beating heart is. It might be a pub, a community centre, the post office – or all three. But in this case, it’s Frankie’s Chippy.

The play is as hilarious as it is heart-warming, and the lines, direction and performances are super, Super (if you know, you know). From Joe Caffrey’s drunken young lad, to Phillippa’s stern copper – each and every one you recognise in some way – not necessarily for the role they have in society, but for who they are – their vulnerabilities, quirks, struggles or sheer infamous standing amongst the locals. With just two actors it’s absolute genius how each character interaction – either following a quick costume change or a conversation with an imaginary line of customers – completely draws you in. But then again, we are in the hands of two of the region’s best! The music and brilliant dance routines (thanks to choreographer Lee Proud) will have you cheering and laughing intermittently throughout the play. But I defy your heart not to melt when Phillippa introduces an elderly lady who just wants someone to talk to. While communities are great, they are never perfect, and we’re reminded again that customers might need more from their local chippy than a bag of chips, or more from their local pub than a pint…

Oh, and it also reminds us that, while we yearn to make our biggest and most exciting ambitions a reality (like Bob’s passion for photography), we should try to consider the impact we are having on our own, and others’, lives through the little or seemingly mundane things we do.

It’s not often my other half and I are so equally and thoroughly swept away by the same show. But Haddock and Chips is perfect in every way – from the sound of the fryer to the myriad ways the handling of wooden chippy forks can say so much about a multitude of characters! Go watch it!

To see the show, which is currently at Gosforth Civic Theatre and will tour regionally throughout October and November, visit CaroleW productions for full listings and links to venues.

Ten to Talk Through with Lucy Nichol

Pretty Purple Polka Dots

If you’re a 90s grunge music fan, I can guarantee you’ll love The Twenty Seven Club by Lucy Nichol. It’s a fantastically nostalgic tale of 90s music, friendship, and discovering who you are.

I sat down with Lucy to chat about the inspiration for her debut novel, and the slight inspiration from her personal life that ended up in the book.

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