My body was once
my kingdom,
taking me everywhere
without a permission slip.

Then, gradually,
my body declared
certain rooms
off limits.

One held my horse.
One held spontaneity.
One held the key 
to going
without thinking
about going.

So I moved upstairs.

I moved upstairs
into my head,
where freedom lives.

And my God,
there was so much space.

I found books,
and beautiful people,
and beaches.

I found romance
and music 
and mad ideas
in the middle of the night.

My body stayed behind,
my mind went everywhere.

I grieve,
yet I bubble with joy.

I walk past doors
I cannot face opening –
the rooms
behind them contain
colours of my life
I can no longer wear.

And yet,
most mornings,
I wake up eager
to go upstairs,
to the beautiful room
I have made for myself,
a place my illness
is forbidden to enter.

I go upstairs,
to the room
that saved me.

And sometimes,
like today,
that makes me cry.

Heading out in a bit…

Dear friends,

I’d like to introduce you to someone very special to me, and who is new to Substack.

I’ve known Elisabeth Loesch (aka Babeth) for over twenty-five years. We met at Pilates, got chatting about books and writing, discovered a common passion, and knew immediately we would become great friends.

We’d phone each other multiple times a day to discuss a clever line we’d just written, brainstorm a plot problem, and just chat and giggle. We’d have dinner together, listening to music we loved, drink wine and eat roasted peppers with fresh mozzarella and basil or coriander because we were always on diets!

Then we lost touch with each other for a while over some silly wobble, the reason of which neither of us can quite remember, apart from the fact that we were both going through troubling moments and feeling sensitive. We reconnected towards the end of the pandemic, when she came over for tea. A week or so later we drove for hours right across Switzerland to deliver clothes, toys and everyday necessities to newly arrived Ukrainian refugees, chatting non-stop in the car. It felt like we’d never been apart.

Although we don’t see each other much – she lives right at the other side of the lake from me, and I became ill in late 2022 and have no longer been able to get out much – we stay in touch. She’s still a great writing buddy, someone I trust to give me constructive advice. Also, she has the same sense of humour as me, and loves a good fart joke, despite her glamorous exterior!

I hope you’ll find Elisabeth on Substack and read her upcoming work. 🤩

BIOGRAPHY

Elisabeth Loesch is a bilingual writer and filmmaker. She is the author of three novels, including Le Chef d’orchestre and Le Trou noir, winner of the Stardust Masterclass 2020 competition, as well as the comic book Johnny Be Dead. She has written for film and stage and directed several short films and the feature documentary Consciousness and Science, co-directed with Jacques-Hervé Fichet and recipient of the Documentaries Without Borders Excellence Award. Her work moves between literature, cinema and visual storytelling.

THE QUESTIONS:

Question 1:

If someone walked into a room and your life’s soundtrack was playing, what would it be? Why are those tracks special?

My father was big on critical thinking, especially when raising children. I think he believed that exposing us to the full spectrum of possibilities that life offers (or doesn’t offer) could protect us from illusions and false hopes, and help us make choices and decisions with our eyes open.

He gave us books to read, and once we had finished them, he would sit us down and ask, “What is the book about ? What did you learn?” There was never a simple right answer. What mattered was that we had thought about it, questioned it, and formed our own understanding.

My favourite, to this day, is Camus’s The Myth of Sisyphus.

Perhaps that is why, if someone walked into a room and my life’s soundtrack was playing, I would choose The Windmills of Your Mind or the French version Les Moulins de mon cœur.

It’s about the absurdity of existence, going around in circles, repeatedly, much like Sisyphus, we are condemned or programmed to push a rock up a mountain only to watch it roll back to the valley below. Cycles: the feeling of being trapped in a maze of old memories, half-forgotten dreams, the search for meaning or an exit we never find. We know the quest is endless, yet, we keep going. Why? How? We sing, we dance, we create, we fail, we lose, we begin again and on and on we go…

Question 2:

Is there something you never finished, and does it still haunt you?

Argh, that’s a tough one. If I wanted to save face, I would mention the two novels I started working on only to put them on the back burner, a decision I deeply regret. Pretty standard, right?

But since the question is “Does it still haunt you?”, my answer is: Things I should have said, things I said and shouldn’t have said, that train I should have taken but didn’t, because I thought I had time. When someone you love is suffering from depression, you do not have time. Period. If I had been on that train, I could have saved him.

Question 3:

Did you ever have a crush on someone who ended up in your work? Would they know it was them, and do you care?

When I was seventeen, I had a crush on a boy who turned out to be a first-class bully. Strange how someone whose name you’ve conveniently forgotten can suddenly find his way back into your consciousness when a character in the novel you’re working on hatches a plan of vengeance against said bully, turning him into the laughing stock of the entire school.

The plan ? Slipping crushed laxative pills into his Choco BN, the chocolate biscuits French kids used to bring to school for a snack during the break.

The result ? An utterly humiliating race through the school corridors, with shit running down his legs.

The sweet taste of revenge is unparalleled, even when it exists only in fiction.

Would he recognize himself if he ever read the book? I honestly hope so. And would I care? Absolutely. Because he really was a shitbag.

Question 4:

Do you have an absolutely pointless talent you are extremely proud of?

I can swear fluently in four different languages. It’s the only (and solitary) honour of my life.

Question 5:

What are you reading, listening to, and watching that you absolutely adore?

I’m watching a brilliant AI video on YouTube while I work out. It’s called The Art of Being Strange. The visuals are out of this world, and the soundtrack really hits home, at least for me.

There’s something about the lyrics that feels almost like a personal manifesto:

Some people walk straight,
Fit in,
Lie well,
Must win.

But not you, my friend.
Not you, my friend.

You move like a bold idea,
Reckless, without fear
Of condemnation, judgment, or contempt.

And then :

You show up late,
You leave too soon,
And dance alone
In a crowded room.

The chorus says it all :

You don’t bend,
You don’t break,
You don’t think about mistakes.
And the stories people tell ?
They can all just go to hell.

Because they don’t see the world the same.
But don’t bother to explain, my friend.
I hope you never change.
It’s the art of being strange.

That last line could almost be my motto.

The art of being strange is something I cultivate with utter delight.

Other than that, I’m reading Clamser à Tataouine by Raphaël Quenard, a rising star of French cinema who has now turned to writing. I’m only halfway through, but what immediately struck me about this novel is its electric, baroque style: raw slang, poetic flights, and language like a switchblade, cutting straight to the bone.

You can almost hear the actor behind every sentence: the tone, the musicality, the swagger. The dialogue crackles, the punchlines fly thick and fast, and the omnipresent dark humor makes you smile where you ought to shudder. Which, frankly, is exactly how I like my fiction.

The plot : After a failed suicide attempt, a young man seems determined to exact his revenge. His plan : to kill one representative of each social class. They will all be women, women only. Not out of machismo, he insists, but because he would rather reserve his “final flourishes” for those who have always been his preference.

Question 6:

What are you still waiting for?

My big break, I assume. The documentary “Consciousness and Science which I co-directed with Jacques-Hervé Fichet a producer from CERN, now has a distributor in the US and Canada. It’s promising but still a waiting game…

Question 7:

Is there a question I haven’t asked you that you’d like to answer, or something you’d like to talk about? This is your opportunity to be bold and to brag, so don’t hold back!

Well, since you’re giving me permission to brag… I’ve just submitted two novels to two different publishers. Now, before I have time to start obsessively checking my inbox, I’m moving on to the next adventure: finding a publisher for my comic book, Johnny Be Dead. Apparently, I’m incapable of working on just one thing at a time.

Voila! Acomplished, interesting and really, really funny!

I hope you enjoyed meeting my friend Babeth ☀️

With love,

Francesca xx

I made a mini reel yesterday morning, just for fun! I thought this little wind-up plane needed a destination…

ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN : a collection of poems

When my children were little, one of their favourite picture books was We’re going on a Bear Hunt written by Michael Rosen and illustrated by Helen Oxenbury, about a group of people heading out on an adventure to –you guessed it – catch a bear. This is how it went: “We’re going on a bear hunt, we’re going to catch a big one! What a beautiful day! We’re not scared.”

The protagonists waded through rivers, squelched through mud, and fought through a snowstorm. Then when they finally spotted a bear, they forgot all about not being scared and immediately ran away, right back through the squelchy mud and the raging river and everything else, sprinting all the way home where they slammed the door and hid under the bedcovers.

Funnily enough, until yesterday, I’d never really reflected on the moral of the story. I suppose it might be that it’s all right to not go through what you set out to achieve, that sometimes you bite off more than we can chew. In this story, everyone lived happily ever after, including the bear.

Anyway, fast-forward twenty years.

Yesterday, I was hand-walking my horse, Dominic, around the yard. Dom is injured and off work for some weeks, needing me to walk him around numerous times a day. Of. Course, being a high-maintenance horse, requires all sorts of other time-consuming treatments, but I won’t get into those.

Dom and I plodded around and around the yard under the bleak grey January sky, our breath merging with the wisps of low-lying early morning fog. My dressage trainer was over from England and I could hear him teaching one of my currently more fortunate fellow horse-nutters in the indoor school. I sighed loudly, as did Dominic, so I gave his nose a velvety kiss, telling him the weeks would fly by and that before long he’d be back in the arena in his dancing shoes.

Ultra-randomly, We’re going on a Bear Hunt popped into my head and I began reciting it to Dominic. My horse loves being chatted to, and since I spend millions of minutes a day in his company, my handsome dude is well acquainted with the perpetual ping-ponging of my overanxious mind. A sudden loud hiss erupted as we plodded past the building hosting the yard’s horse water-treadmill, causing Dominic to spook slightly. A pat and a reassuring, “It’s ok, it’s not a bear. Good boy,” settled him within four rapid hoofsteps and dissuaded him from dragging me all the way back to the safety of his stable.

I don’t know why that particular children’s book came to me at that moment, but it got me pondering, sending my mind off on what I’m inclined to call mini-philosophical tangents.

I’ve recently been reading books that teach that you’re not a crap rider nor an absolute numpty for entering a dressage competition.

With Dominic, for the first time in my life, I have a horse who helps me believe that, with him, I’ll totally be able to slay the mind-effing dragons of the Prix St. Georges, possibly even finishing the test with a smile on my face. But with Dom injured, my mind is running scared, clouding the future with doubts, painting everything the same colour as this depressing January sky. My struggle to remain upbeat involves joking with my yard buddies, telling them that this morning Dom and I are on our way to Santiago de Compostela. The last stroll of the day might see us tackling the Route du Rhum since there doesn’t seem to be a Route de la Vodka. I’m on my own personal bear hunt, day after day, week after week, breathing deeply, telling myself not to be scared. But repeatedly insisting it’s a beautiful day is mentally exhausting.

Of course, everything is relative. My problems are eyerollingly pathetic compared to many problems.

Rationally, I’m aware I’m incredibly fortunate. But passion has a way of making everything ridiculously dramatic.

What if Dominic’s injury takes months to heal? What if he’s broken? What if I can never ride again at this level? What if I can’t have another horse? Will I soon be too old? Is it too late to aspire to top-level dressage? Is it all absolutely pointless?

It’s a big deal to me.

Horses have always been my passion. Riding saved me from free-falling when my children left home. Activities around my horse structure my day, and the long hours involved in caring for him are never begrudged. The yard provides me with a sense of community, a support system, a great social life.

*****

I wrote all of that eight years ago, about a horse with a strained tendon – or a sore back, or something else that sport horses tend to get – and a woman who thought the sky was falling. I never finished this essay, probably because the sky descended a little further, afterwards, when I began having shooting pains all over my body which eventually turned out to be fibromyalgia. On top of this, the meds given to me for my body pain appear to have triggered my inflammatory bowel disease.

I now find it kind of sweet that I once thought a few weeks of hand-walking Dominic was a bear hunt. I had no idea what a real bear hunt looked like.

I haven’t sat on a horse for six years now, apart from one or two desperate attempts that told me within seconds that that part of my life was over. Life didn’t hand me an injury I could hand-walk out of, patting a scented, warm neck and promising it would soon be behind me.

Carrots and sweet nothings have no effect on chronic disease.

My friends at the stables can’t joke about this with me because I no longer see most of them. Besides, I don’t need them to make jokes about it because I do so myself. These last few years, I’ve noticed that this is what I do with fear: I dress it in pretty words and plod on.

Nobody tells you that the book doesn’t end once you’ve come back from the bear hunt and hidden under the bedcovers. You’ll get up the next morning and go back out looking for the bear, because you can’t stay at home forever, hidden from danger and mud and crappy weather. I’ve realised the book – or life – was never about catching the bear, but about going out and saying “ooh, what shall I do with this lovely day?” even if it’s raining and you’re stuck on the toilet with burning bones in your legs.

I no longer really miss Dominic’s ears swivelling back to listen to me while I sang him the Quack song, or Your Song, or Patience (I remember singing that one a lot!). I no longer miss the delicious smell of the stables, although I will always be able to conjure it up when I close my eyes; there’s nothing quite like it. I no longer miss the other ladies who understood the drama of not quite knowing which blanket to put on your horse in the evening. Dominic is happily retired now and living his best life grazing all day with his best friend, Qrac. He’s fallen in love with a pretty mare called Tosca. Six years of not riding taught me that I’m capable of moving on, of finding my “beautiful day” elsewhere.

I doubt I’ll ever get back in the saddle, and that’s okay, even though there’s still squelchy mud in my heart when I watch my old riding videos.

The bear hunt never stops being about courage; it just changes shape. Some years the bear is a horse with a sore back. Some years it’s your own body. You don’t actually need to go out and catch the bear. You just have to keep heading towards the possibility of it, telling the people – or the horses – you love that you’re not scared, even when, in a quiet, albeit happy corner of yourself, you sometimes still are.

Thank you for reading!

With love,

Francesca xx

Have you read my poetry book, Illicit Croissants at Dawn?

I MADE THIS YESTERDAY 😎

Good morning!

It’s a sunny Swiss day, but autumn is in the air. The light is softer, kind of like my thighs…but my thighs and everything else is getting worked out almost every day now because I bought myself a reformer, and it’s in my office, so whenever I take a break from workin I can hop on and reform myself for a while. It’s the best thing I’ve bought myself in ages, and I don’t care if it takes up loads of room, because I have enough room for my two desks (one is an arts and crafts up and down desk), and it has a nice wooden frame so it’s not even too ugly looking.

I ordered it during my latest immunosuppressant infusion, on a whim. The infusions take an hour and a half, and I was feeling fat and ugly and although I now do a pilates private class once or twice a week, I know I need to do more, but my plantar fasciatis (sp?) stops me from walking far. And I had an illumination! I looked through various Swiss websites for foldable reformers, asked ChatGPT to check reviews, and boom. Click-Kaching!

Two days later it arrived, 70 kgs in a massive box. My office is upstairs… It wasn’t the easiest purchase to manoeuvre, but my son and husband hauled it up, and I myself personally put it together with a little help from a YouTube tutorial. It’s brilliant. I did a YouTube online class yesterday and I can feel my lazy glutes and my abs and everything else today!

Anyway, when I opened Substack this morning I saw that had compiled all her Substack posts using Claude, so I was curious. I’m afraid I’ve taken the easy option and simply copy pasted what Claude gave me, so excuse the pink line down the side. I was quite impressed by how productive I’ve been since I came here. 594 posts, including this one. There are loads of poems, plenty of essays, and some manuscript excerpts in case you fancy a potter around the garden.

Have a lovely day, I have to go back to working on my manuscript now.

Big hugs,

Francesca xx

• JUST LIKE A MOVIE (a snippet from my romcom, set in Ibiza, Spain) — 8 Jun 2024 — Ever had a crush on a popstar?! Enjoy classic romcoms? Just Like A Movie is pure escapism.

• Just Like A Movie: another snippet from my romcom — 9 Jun 2024 — Celebrating one year since the publication of my romcom!

• JUST LIKE A MOVIE: a romantic comedy set in Ibiza — 28 Aug 2024 — A few more chapters of my rom com. (4, 5 and 6)

• A CALL FOR BETA-READERS — 30 Dec 2025 — Empress Editions and I would love to hear from you

• JOIN THE BETA READER GROUP FOR MY ROMANTIC COMEDY, JUST LIKE A MOVIE — 1 Jan 2026 — HAPPY NEW YEAR!

• JUST LIKE A MOVIE - serialised in collaboration with Empress Editions — 10 Jan 2026 — Also available on The Empress’ Substack

• RESISTANCE IS FUTILE — 17 Jan 2026 — Girona, Ensaimadas, and Chapter Three

• THE ELUSIVE ART OF MULTITASKING — 18 Jan 2026 — Little Miss Muffet, fifty shades of pink, and chapter three

• THE WOMEN WHO HOLD EACH OTHER — 26 Jan 2026 — Why female friendship matters as much as romance in Just Like A Movie

• Sometimes Words Cuddle — 2 Mar 2026 — and another chapter for another week

• LIGHTS. CAMERA. COVER. — 10 Jun 2026 — Just Like A Movie finally looks Just Like A Movie. March 2027

TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS

Real interviews with people worth knowing.

• WELCOME TO ‘TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS’ — 29 Jun 2026 — A new interview series. This week I welcome Amy Brown 💖

• TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS — 6 Jul 2026 — This week, meet my famous friend and fellow Empress, Margie Zable Fisher

• TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS — 9 Jul 2026 — Today, meet my famous friend Jayne Marshall 😎

• TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS: my fellow Empress MARY TABOR 👑 — 11 Jul 2026 — Conversations with people worth knowing

• TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS: Cori Bren, generous whirlwind — 14 Jul 2026 — She didn’t think she was famous. I beg to differ!

• ANOTHER FAMOUS FRIEND FOR TEA! TODAY: TRUDI NICOLA — 20 Jul 2026 — Sparks of Light, refreshing, soulful poetry to take to the beach

• TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS: MEET THE JOY THAT IS KATHLEEN HOBBS ❤️ — 28 Jul 2026 — On faith, family, and finding her groove - one day at a time

• TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS: AI MEETS GIRL BOSS — 31 Jul 2026 — Meet Pinkie and her flamingo

• TEA WITH MY FAMOUS… UNCLE 😎 — 4 Aug 2026 — Newspaper columns, interviews with all the stars, screenplays, radio, novels, short stories. Don’t miss this very special edition 🤩

• TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS: meet Julie Granacki, Health and Wellness Coach — 14 Aug 2026

HOW ON EARTH — imaginary interviews

Imaginary conversations with the dead famous.

• HOW ON EARTH: a conversation with Freddie Mercury — 22 May 2026 — Impromptu, unbelievable, and utterly unreal!

• HOW ON EARTH: THE NIGHT I DANCED WITH DAVID BOWIE — 31 May 2026 — The Ethereal Frequency, Florence, Piazza Santo Spirito, The Cure, and how David Bowie sent Major Tom’s Space Elves to rescue me

• HOW ON EARTH: a moment with Nostradamus — 19 Jul 2026 — One very smug 16th-century prophet weighs in on heartbreak, history, and the World Cup.

WEATHER FORECAST

A recurring, only-loosely-meteorological column.

• WEATHER FORECAST — 1 May 2024 — Accessorised with a bunny clutch

• WEATHER FORECAST — 30 May 2024 — Sprinklers add interest

• WEATHER FORECAST: beware the azure extravaganza… — 25 Jun 2024 — Take cover now. I repeat: take cover now.

• WEATHER FORECAST: meteorological vandals riot in Switzerland — 30 Jun 2024 — This place is a mess…

• WEATHER FORECAST: get with the new program; go for gold. Silver linings are so last year! — 7 Aug 2024 — Haven’t you heard?

• WEATHER FORECAST: space-electrician protests — 11 Aug 2024 — Claim your poodle-perm while histrionics last!

• WEATHER FORECAST: it’s getting rowdy out there — 1 Sep 2024 — September is riding into Switzerland on its high horse

• WEATHER FORECAST — 17 Sep 2024 — Never a dull moment

• WEATHER FORECAST: heavy snoring — 8 Oct 2024 — Beware the southerly wind

• WEATHER FORECAST — 21 Oct 2024 — Spontaneous displays of late-season semi-nudity

• WEATHER FORECAST: effeuillage — 24 Oct 2024 — First world problems

• WEATHER FORECAST — 19 Nov 2024

• WEATHER FORECAST: THE SNOW QUEEN — 21 Nov 2024 — No more ice follies

• Weather Forecast — 6 Dec 2024

• Super Special Very Woo-Woo End of Year Weather Forecast — 28 Dec 2024 — (Extent of the woo-woo due to the current depth of the doo-doo)

• WEATHER FORECAST — 18 Jan 2025 — Toast?

• WEATHER FORECAST, JANUARY 27 — 27 Jan 2025 — Ogres, David Guetta and rain

• WEATHER FORECAST: FEBRUARY 16, 2025 — 16 Feb 2025 — Depending on your size, admire the primroses at your own risk

• WEATHER FORECAST: continuous snowfall, with a 60% chance of Abba — 18 Apr 2025 — Ye gods!

• WEATHER FORECAST: COVERT OPS — 26 Aug 2025 — Classified weather report

• WEATHER FORECAST : JANUARY HUSH — 12 Jan 2026 — An effort to stay away from Doomsville

ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN — the poetry book

Everything about my poetry collection.

• ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN — 23 Apr 2024 — And bright blue butterflies

• POETRY: THE OTHER PRESCRIPTION — 1 Apr 2025 — How I wrote ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN

• THE ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN SOUNDTRACK: Because the songs know all the secrets — 19 Apr 2025 — They really do!

• ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN: The Love Story — 17 Aug 2025 — The morning I knew for sure

BOOK REVIEWS

Books I’ve read and loved.

• BOOK REVIEW: DOLLY ALL THE TIME, BY ANNABEL MONAGHAN — 9 Jul 2026 — A Slow Burn Worth Savouring Twice

HORSES & DRESSAGE

My lifelong love of riding.

• A POEM FOR SOMEONE SPECIAL — 5 Mar 2024 — My wonderful dressage trainer, Roland Tong, has a big birthday today!

• A HORSE CALLED QRAC — 10 Mar 2024 — A real date with destiny!

• Dancing Dee — 15 Mar 2024 — This girl has such an incredible piaffe passage

• JUMP OFF!: riding a horse against the clock in a showjumping competition — 11 Aug 2024 — I haven’t jumped in years, I was a dressage rider. But I felt everything while writing this!

• DOMINIC: ode to a very special horse — 20 Sep 2024 — Oh, my beautiful SuperDom! Weren’t we just amazing together?

• MY HORSE HAS OPINIONS ABOUT MY NOVEL — 7 Jul 2026 — Diandra discusses bad timing, apologies taking far too long, and how there is clearly a horse-shaped hole in Still Like A Movie

POEMS & ESSAYS — everything else

The bulk of what I write: poems, personal essays, and posts that don’t fit neatly into a series above. Sorted by year, then date.

2023

• The Crush: from the initial tachycardia to the current fond flutter — 30 Nov 2023 — How a crush on a Latino superstar inspired a book, a screenplay, and improved my Spanish!

• The Sashay — 3 Dec 2023 — A story about hot pink mules, writing, a rebellious Sicilian lady, and second chances.

• Christmas Crackers — 12 Dec 2023 — Sometimes, theres’s nothing like a little chaos to see the funny side of life.

• Covidians — 18 Dec 2023 — May the snot evade you

2024

• Meet the Writer @bethkempton — 11 Jan 2024 — Prompt 3: Handwriting

• Ritual — 11 Jan 2024 — (From Beth Kempton’s Meet The Writer Day 4 prompt)

• Meet the Writer — 17 Jan 2024 — Prompt 10: Champion

• Signorina Giuseppina — 4 Feb 2024 — This is an excerpt from an unpublished manuscript I wrote a long time ago. My aim was to write an epic, sweeping, romantic story, set between England, Sicily and Ithaca, Greece.

• WOLF — 12 Feb 2024 — Venturing off my path to find fun with poems prompted by @bethkempton. Thank you, Beth! I wrote this fast and furiously!

• RIPPLE — 13 Feb 2024 — My second “Tinywinterpoem”, written in a couple of minutes. I really love these prompts, @bethkempton ! They’re such fun

• NEARLY — 14 Feb 2024 — My third tiny winter poem, prompted by @bethkempton, today the word is NEARLY

• Mrs Bean goes to Verbier — 15 Feb 2024 — Mad memories of traveling to the mountains for the weekend with two dogs and two small children. My husband would arrive far less frazzled, much later! Published in a magazine years ago- it’s a giggle

• SEARCHING — 15 Feb 2024 — Tiny Winter Poem, day 4, prompted by @bethkempton. As always, many thanks to Beth

• SIREN — 16 Feb 2024 — Once upon a time there was a sex kitten…

• UNFORGOTTEN — 17 Feb 2024 — My Nana

• BELIEF — 18 Feb 2024 — I BEFORE E?

• KINDRED — 19 Feb 2024 — A poem for someone wonderful #tinywinterpoem @bethkempton

• SHORELINE — 21 Feb 2024 — A winter dip #tinywinterpoem @bethkempton

• CITY — 21 Feb 2024 — A cheeky tiny winter poem #tinywinterpoem @bethkempton

• THOUGHTS — 22 Feb 2024 — A journey from dark to light

• MADE : The Joy of Creation — 23 Feb 2024 — #tinywinterpoem @bethkempton

• THE FIBBER — 24 Feb 2024 — The Fibber A tiny winter poem @bethkempton

• WHISPER — 25 Feb 2024 — The bullies

• WINTER — 26 Feb 2024 — A POEM ABOUT GLOBAL WARMING

• GORGEOUS — 27 Feb 2024 — FOR MY SON

• SLEEP — 28 Feb 2024 — A POEM ABOUT THAT ELUSIVE LITTLE S***

• THE TROUBLE WITH SUITCASES: Why can’t I ever travel light? — 29 Feb 2024 — Never hire me to pack your bags!

• SUNBLESSED: A love poem for my parents — 2 Mar 2024 — Polaroids from the Sixties and Seventies

• THE BIG BOOB — 3 Mar 2024 — The night I almost upended my husband’s budding career.

• VIVA LA MUSICA! — 4 Mar 2024 — Quick Monday Morning Musical Poetry

• CATS AND DOGS: a poem for pets, because they’re worth it — 5 Mar 2024 — Shadow, Josh, Maverick, Barney, Simba, Tom, Leo, Badu

• ALL THE PRETTY THINGS — 7 Mar 2024 — The lure of fashion..

• TUMMY TROUBLE (a poem) — 8 Mar 2024 — Living with an auto-immune disease

• WHOOSH: A quick poem on a wild, wet, windy day — 9 Mar 2024

• ACUPUNCTURE: A poem about needles! — 11 Mar 2024 — How acupuncture has worked wonders on my body these past few years

• RAINBOW — 17 Mar 2024 — The Centrefold

• CHOCOLATE — 18 Mar 2024 — What’s your favourite?

• THE CARNATIONS RAP — 19 Mar 2024 — Don’t knock those funky flowers

• ALCHEMY: THE WIZARD — 20 Mar 2024

• SEXY FROGS: Sleepless night, elusive plops! — 21 Mar 2024 — They used our Lilly pads for sex!

• THE OPERA — 23 Mar 2024 — The drama outside

• MATH MORONITIS — 24 Mar 2024 — A beautiful poem

• MY GLAMOROUS GRANDMA — 26 Mar 2024 — A poem inspired by my work in progress

• MICROSCOPIC LYMPHOCITIC COLLAGENOUS COLITIS, described as poetically as possible! — 27 Mar 2024 — AKA MLCC

• THE TRANCE — 28 Mar 2024

• THE ITALIAN OOMPA-LOOMPA — 29 Mar 2024 — Or The Week My Father’s Future Looked Orange

• WATCHING: a tiny spring poem — 30 Mar 2024 — Prompt by @bethkempton

• IF — 30 Mar 2024 — #tinyspringpoem @bethkempton

• PLEA — 31 Mar 2024 — Call it prayer, call it magic. Something answered my plea.

• DRIP — 1 Apr 2024 — A (not so) tiny Spring Poem

• FRENZY — 2 Apr 2024 — The exhilaration of creativity following decades of drought.

• ENTRANCE — 2 Apr 2024 — His shy smile, his skin like a perfect summer-beach

• BAD MAN IN A RAINCOAT — 3 Apr 2024

• LOITERING — 3 Apr 2024 — Rediscovering a Lost Art

• LISTENING — 4 Apr 2024 — Do not call my therapist…

• APPLE PIE — 4 Apr 2024 — My papa and me, a memory, so silly

• TRAMPOLINE — 5 Apr 2024 — May I offer you a giggle? A chuckle? A smile?

• FUZZY — 5 Apr 2024 — Have faith in the fuzzies

• DANCE — 6 Apr 2024 — Sometimes stones get in our shoes…

• BUZZ — 6 Apr 2024

• CEASE AND DESIST — 6 Apr 2024 — Emit it now, emit it quick! My self-control is just the pits!

• MY BIRDS — 7 Apr 2024 — Kind birds, lost birds, angry birds

• JUST BUMBLE: what are you looking forward to? — 7 Apr 2024 — Be like a bee.

• WHAT? THIS OLD THING? — 7 Apr 2024 — Tricked you!

• MONDAY IS WASHING DAY — 8 Apr 2024 — Yellow with elements of grey

• WHAT WAS I THINKING? — 8 Apr 2024 — I considered, and reconsidered

• TANTRUM — 9 Apr 2024 — Gaga crazies, think Sandstorm by Darude!

• BALLERINA — 9 Apr 2024 — Spaced out dancer

• INVISIBLE — 9 Apr 2024

• INVISIBLE — 9 Apr 2024

• INVISIBLE — 9 Apr 2024 — Can you really see me? Or is this a thoughtless dismissal?

• OUR LADY OF THE BUS — 9 Apr 2024 — Santa Cruz, 1985 : And just like that a complete stranger on a bus saves two ridiculous exhausted twenty-something-year-olds from a night on the streets. A true story.

• YOU SAT — 10 Apr 2024 — A disturbing semi-encounter with a doctor

• AFTER — 10 Apr 2024 — Back in the days when we read nuance like fortune tellers

• SHIMMER: a poem for someone who left too soon. — 15 Apr 2024 — For my beautiful friend Sabina, who should have been at her daughter’s wedding

• PLANE PUFF: Mountains of ideas — 15 Apr 2024 — How much is a private jet?

• YOU SMILED: A love poem for a wedding — 15 Apr 2024

• BOHEMIAN: A quiet area of Istambul — 15 Apr 2024 — Istambul

• PALM READER: What did she want to learn? What did he wish to hide? — 15 Apr 2024 — Spotted by the sea during my weekend in Istambul, sitting on separate benches

• LANDMARK: THAT LIP THING — 15 Apr 2024 — Lips are taking over the world

• FUNKY CAR/ AKA FIFTY SHADES OF MIDNIGHT EXPRESS — 16 Apr 2024 — Fear and colitis in Istambul

• SMELLY MAN: close proximity with a stinker — 18 Apr 2024 — That acrid smell of armpit juice, And morning breath is quite uncouth.

• BY MYSELF — 18 Apr 2024

• TRESPASSER — 19 Apr 2024 — My escape car is a turquoise convertible with a great stereo? Want to hop in?

• A WALK ON THE NOT SO WILD SIDE — 20 Apr 2024 — The pretty coastal path from S’Agaro to Sa Conca on the Spanish Costa Brava, and the beautiful coastal properties with towers insane views. And bougainvillea. Lots of photos! And a nightingale.

• INTROVERT — 21 Apr 2024 — Anybody else?

• Secret affair? RICOCHET — 22 Apr 2024 — .

• SCARY BIG MAGIC — 24 Apr 2024 — Tapestry of tendrils

• THE GHOST WHO LOVES ME — 24 Apr 2024 — How do you say “Boo” in Spanish?

• MEETING BONNIE GARMUS — 24 Apr 2024 — The San Jordi Literary Festival in Barcelona

• JASMINE! — 26 Apr 2024

• NIGHT MOVES — 26 Apr 2024 — Unintentional public displays of goodness gracious me

• ON REPEAT — 27 Apr 2024 — Which love song would you pick?

• SIZZLE — 27 Apr 2024 — My mascara never runs

• COO — 27 Apr 2024 — Who rules the roost?

• BADASS — 28 Apr 2024 — My clever friend

• YLANG-YLANGLAND — 29 Apr 2024 — Are we astral planning yet?

• CHANTILLY SHIVERS — 1 May 2024 — Forecast update

• MIDNIGHT SKY — 1 May 2024 — La Balca Frog Symphony accompanies

• GARDENER — 2 May 2024 — The cute dude who does my grass

• STORM — 2 May 2024

• WAKE UP! — 3 May 2024 — (And eventually she did!!)

• HOURGLASS — 4 May 2024

• CURRANT AFFAIRS — 5 May 2024 — Oh those rabbits…

• SLEEP — 7 May 2024 — Most men just hit the sack and snore…

• SPACE CADET — 9 May 2024 — Fancy some space-cakes with my sister?

• SUNBEAM — 11 May 2024 — Sabina really was a Sunbeam among sunbeams

• GOLF — 13 May 2024 — Something I know nothing about!

• THE DELIGHTFUL SURPRISE OF POETRY — 14 May 2024 — How poetry has had a positive impact on my emotional health, and has boosted my creativity.

• WHAT THE CLUCK? — 16 May 2024 — A royal roast of the influencer élite

• CLUES — 17 May 2024 — You might need a sleek superyacht, the kind that billionaires adopt!

• MY BRAIN ON RAIN — 18 May 2024 — Meteorological hypnosis

• FRISSON: A cute little poem. And some not quite so cute context! — 19 May 2024

• THE MAGIC BIKE — 20 May 2024 — Memories between the handlebars!

• VISITORS — 20 May 2024 — A late night case of spaghetti brain

• SPARKLES — 22 May 2024 — Our wonderful children

• FUZZY WUZZIES — 22 May 2024 — Be Like Fuzzy Wuzzy!

• The Project — 23 May 2024 — I’ve got my crochet on…

• POTTERING IN PEACE — 25 May 2024

• TIME — 29 May 2024 — The weird concept of running out of time

• THE SHEET — 29 May 2024 — When our brains rush past our feet we often end up in the sheet

• MAGIC — 30 May 2024 — Also, I’m far too nice…

• FAKE TAN: A poem about Donald Trump — 31 May 2024 — There was a man who loved fake tan, an orange lout, American…

• DOUBT — 2 Jun 2024 — One of those days…

• WITHOUT THE QUESTION MARK: my verse on Trump triggered a bad memory. — 3 Jun 2024 — Trapped in an elevator with a creep.

• TOP MODELS AKA THE BOLD AND THE BEAUTIFUL! — 3 Jun 2024 — And now for some lighter stuff!

• IT’S OVER — 6 Jun 2024 — All that remains…

• MY ELDERLY PARENTS WERE BURGLED YESTERDAY, and it makes me so sad and angry. — 7 Jun 2024 — What sort of people do that?

• KARMA BITES — 7 Jun 2024 — May it devour you.

• WHODUNNIT WEATHER — 8 Jun 2024 — Go ahead, make my day…

• JUKEBOX: a poem for a big school reunion — 11 Jun 2024 — Crushes and blushes and notes passed in class

• SNAKE: no meanies allowed — 18 Jun 2024 — Once a snake, always a snake

• HYPOCRITES: people can be right gits… — 19 Jun 2024 — Just take a breath, ignore their crap

• STILL — 19 Jun 2024 — He smoulders, she shivers.

• THE SUMMER SOLSTICE FAIRY CLUB: may we sparkle, twinkle and sprinkle! — 20 Jun 2024 — Meanies and hypocrites need not apply

• SPELLBOUND: exquisite seduction — 22 Jun 2024

• SEPIA SECRET: embrace the flutter — 23 Jun 2024

• LIVING WITH AN IBD : desperately seeking the funny side of a very unpleasant autoimmune disease — 26 Jun 2024 — My Dutch friend subverted the lovely Eagles lyric from Hotel California! Now that’s all I’ll ever hear…

• Empathy? Forgiveness? No. Just REVENGE. — 27 Jun 2024 — A poem? A short story? A scene from my novel? Who knows…

• An ex-lover, a longtime admirer, a guardian angel? DIVERSION — 29 Jun 2024 — She wants REVENGE . He wants to save her.

• WHY NOT? you know you want to… — 1 Jul 2024 — Because, honestly, who cares?

• Grief, secrets, desire: FOSTER — 2 Jul 2024 — She hijacked his dreams with unspeakable truths…

• MARBLES: I’m an optimistic depressive (currently in a good place) — 6 Jul 2024 — Why is my WIFI unstable?

• SHALIMAR RISING: Where will your dreams take you tonight? — 10 Jul 2024 — Shed your pjs and take flight

• Thirty years later, she is still UNFORGETTABLE — 12 Jul 2024 — She slipped between his sheets at night, moving over this body like a sacred whisper

• BONKERS embarrassing… — 13 Jul 2024 — I lost my swimsuit in the sea…

• FROM TRAD WIFE TO ROCK CHICK: how I moved from KitchenAid territory to the Geneva underground music scene in the early Eighties. — 18 Jul 2024

• THE HURTING: the sad impossibility of never disappointing — 20 Jul 2024 — You strike me down, momentarily blinded by my ugly

• DOPAMINA: I’m a giddy superfan I am I am I am! — 21 Jul 2024 — Dopamine adrenaline all the…leens (if I write “lines” you’ll get the wrong idea!)

• SHIELD: setting boundaries — 22 Jul 2024 — I’m a late bloomer. Clarity begins at 62.

• NINE NOTES AND A CHIME: how long does it take to fall in love? And can you guess the name of the song? — 25 Jul 2024 — A poem inspired by the novel I am working on.

• THE ADVENTURES OF A ROCK CHICK IN AMERICA: dazed, confused, broke and clueless (part 2 of the ROCK CHICK series) — 27 Jul 2024 — But the stories I lived to tell!

• Bold Rush: Insomniac Poetry — 30 Jul 2024

• DOOBIE-DOO: the night my giggle-switch turned on! — 1 Aug 2024 — Effervesced with sparkling wit, we babbled woo-woo truths for twits!

• LIGHT: A tiny summer poem — 1 Aug 2024 — When joy’s a concept, a word, abstract, When you feel guilty for feeling sad….

• READY: I used to love food. Now I almost hate it. — 2 Aug 2024 — So damn ready…

• THE KISS: How much longer does she have to wait? — 3 Aug 2024 — Know that her chest will flutter…

• FREE FALLING — 4 Aug 2024 — He is reticently in love

• BAREFOOT: my kind of summer vibes — 8 Aug 2024 — Melting ice-creams, chocolate chins

• CLIFF OF LOVE: the end of a love story — 10 Aug 2024 — A poem for my beautiful friend

• ROCK CHICK GOES ROGUE: Justin Timberlake didn’t bring sexy back. I did. — 10 Aug 2024 — The third part of my Rock Chick series.

• ROCK CHICK GOES ROGUE 2: HOW I MET MY HUSBAND — 11 Aug 2024 — Part 2 of my Rock Chick Goes Rogue adventure

• ROCK CHICK GOES ROGUE 3: LAUREN BACALL OR CHARLOTTE RAMPLING? OR TOO FAT?? — 11 Aug 2024 — I learn to snooty walk!

• ROCK CHICK GOES ROGUE, 4: BARBIE, MY SISTER, TOP GUN, A WEDDING! — 11 Aug 2024 — Returning to Switzerland

• HOLIDAY FROM HELL: How awful can it get? — 13 Aug 2024 — Can we go now?

• OCEAN GALLOP: the rush of an early morning gallop across the sand! — 15 Aug 2024 — My body remembers…

• GUMMIES: what’s in your Happy Hamper? — 16 Aug 2024 — Say no to highfalutin hogwash!

• MY INTERVIEW ON SUBSTACK! — 16 Aug 2024 — Ingrid Haring-Mendes and I had a chat!

• THE TREE: a day in the busy life of an amazing tree — 18 Aug 2024 — Underneath its canopy I often sit to drink my tea, amused by the loquacity of tenants of this great Plane tree

• THE ELUSIVE KABOOM: when expressing anger doesn’t come easily — 19 Aug 2024

• WONDERSTRUCK — 20 Aug 2024 — Just another romantic poem…

• COULD MY GREY MATTER BE PINK? — 21 Aug 2024 — What colour is yours?

• SUNFLOWERS AND THE MONT-BLANC — 24 Aug 2024 — Just a quickie with a bickie!

• SOMEONE’S SON: who was he? is he ok? Years later, I wish I had helped. — 25 Aug 2024 — He could have been my son

• THE RUSH — 26 Aug 2024 — she must be getting old

• SUPER DONG : he’s back and he’s hardcore! — 26 Aug 2024 — And I’m a badass

• BUMMER — 27 Aug 2024 — Dribbles of drivel

• WOOL-PULLERS: hot air, minimum grace — 28 Aug 2024 — Esmeralda is watching them…

• INTRUDER: Was he a thief? Someone mentally unstable? I will never know — 30 Aug 2024 — When a stranger entered my house

• ILLUMINATIONS — 31 Aug 2024 — Gets me every time!

• THE BURDEN OF TRUTH — 1 Sep 2024 — Today she should have gone with absolute silence

• THE FEAR OF WASTED WORDS: Oh, hello again, Madame Imposter! — 5 Sep 2024 — And you can buzz right off…

• CHRONIC DISEASE, CHRON-STACK, IBD, and, of course, A POEM! — 7 Sep 2024

• AGAINST THE ODDS: a ghostly interference — 8 Sep 2024 — Even in death he remained the ultimate showman

• TRICKSTER: I should know better — 9 Sep 2024 — Like a sniper in the night

• THE THIEF — 10 Sep 2024 — Disruptive, guaranteed to return

• PICNIC — 12 Sep 2024 — Wonderful autumn memories of simpler times

• DANDELION — 14 Sep 2024 — Maybe I should make a wish after my nap

• AURA — 15 Sep 2024 — Moonlight mist

• THE WEIGHT OF WORRY — 16 Sep 2024 — The problem with sharing

• OLYMPICS — 17 Sep 2024 — The Bellyflop’s our discipline

• SHENANIGANS LOST — 18 Sep 2024 — I hoped to upbeat myself

• INTERMEZZO : a poem about salad. Because, sometimes, sweet dreams are made of really random stuff — 21 Sep 2024 — Arugula if possible

• LOVE-SPEARED — 22 Sep 2024 — A star fell, and she caught it on an eyelash

• THE BOHEMIANS — 24 Sep 2024 — That random urge to just keep driving…

• THE WALLOP — 25 Sep 2024 — Please bring cake

• THE NIGGLE — 25 Sep 2024 — And we’re off…

• WAR — 27 Sep 2024 — Stop this aberration, rise with kindness

• FRIENDLY BIRDS — 27 Sep 2024 — Those gourmet-gobblers of squiggling delights!

• LIMONCELLO: Beyond lemonade — 1 Oct 2024 — A drink for one of those days

• THE SIGNAL — 1 Oct 2024 — An autumnal Haiku

• THE TWIT — 2 Oct 2024 — When a man leaves a woman

• MORNING HEADLINES: today is National Poetry Day in the UK. I’m Francesca Bossert with the headlines… (cue BBC news music) — 3 Oct 2024 — beep beep beep beep

• CATBADU — 4 Oct 2024 — The cat who came to stay

• THE DOCTOR (MIS)SPEAKS — 4 Oct 2024 — And I’d had such high hopes

• MISMATCHED — 6 Oct 2024 — Agatha had never found Paul particularly attractive

• MISS DEE — 6 Oct 2024 — When a sad no turned into an irrational yes

• FEATHERLIGHT KINDNESS — 7 Oct 2024 — The magic of kindness

• HOWL — 10 Oct 2024 — In the rude depths of night

• SCIATICA IN PARADISE — 12 Oct 2024 — Not even Twinkle Twilight’s hands-free massage could shift it

• NOTHING, REALLY: a quiet poem for gratitude — 13 Oct 2024 — Just little things

• A MOTHER’S STRENGTH — 14 Oct 2024 — Our resilience for our children

• PANDORA — 15 Oct 2024 — Things we can’t quite say…yet?

• THE BIG BUT — 16 Oct 2024 — Brace for turbulence

• QUICKSILVER — 17 Oct 2024 — Somebody that I used to know…

• MY SPECIAL PLACE — 18 Oct 2024 — Where is yours?

• GIRL TALK — 19 Oct 2024 — Oh those crushes!

• POETREE — 20 Oct 2024 — What if poems grew on trees?

• SLURPS: a haiku — 22 Oct 2024 — Pet peeves

• GHOSTS — 23 Oct 2024 — What am I seeing?

• SEABLISS: a haiku — 24 Oct 2024 — October beach

• LET US PREY — 25 Oct 2024 — Elegantly munificent

• PANDEMONIUM! — 28 Oct 2024 — ABSOLUTE CHAOS!

• INFINITE BLUE — 29 Oct 2024 — Step into your creativity

• On Barcelona, with a side order of Empathy and Cake — 30 Oct 2024 — Wise Words of the Day

• KITTENS! We woke up to kittens on our outside sofa! — 31 Oct 2024 — And then a HERO came along…

• SKATEBOARD PROTOTYPE: we were skaters! — 1 Nov 2024 — And crazy!

• THE GATHERINGS: thoughts on witches — 1 Nov 2024 — We were making soup, you delusional morons!

• THE REAL WOW FACTOR — 2 Nov 2024 — Go ahead! Make someone’s day!

• WOWEE SEXY!! — 3 Nov 2024 — Trundle into your funky, baby!

• THE MYSTERY OF THE POUTY-LIP THING — 3 Nov 2024 — And incredulous musings

• THE CARNAGE — 6 Nov 2024 — Suspend your disbelief

• COME FOR TEA — 7 Nov 2024 — First published in October 2024

• ESMERALDA IS WATCHING YOU — 7 Nov 2024 — For all the Esmeraldas…

• DON’T WORRY, IT’S ONLY KETCHUP, REALLY — 8 Nov 2024 — .

• TRULY HAPPY BIRTHDAY! — 9 Nov 2024 — .

• THE ORIGINS OF POLE DANCING — 10 Nov 2024 — .

• THE ZOOMIES — 10 Nov 2024 — I’ve got them. Big time!

• BLUE MOVES — 11 Nov 2024 — .

• EASY CHEESY — 11 Nov 2024 — .

• MY CREDIT CARD, MY CHOICE — 11 Nov 2024 — .

• JOHN TRAVOLTA — 11 Nov 2024 — and the Beanpole

• BUNDLE OF DUMB — 12 Nov 2024 — .

• JOHN TRAVOLTA: version française — 13 Nov 2024 — Y-a-t’il des francophones par ici?

• ORINOCO FLOW — 13 Nov 2024 — .

• SHE WAS NOT AMUSED — 14 Nov 2024 — .

• PUZZLE — 14 Nov 2024 — .

• Out Of Stock — 15 Nov 2024

• NO ROOTS — 17 Nov 2024 — .

• ON MEANIES — 18 Nov 2024 — What makes a meanie tick?

• DANCING WITH DOM — 19 Nov 2024 — .

• WATCH US — 20 Nov 2024 — Together, we glow

• THE PRISONER — 22 Nov 2024 — A haiku

• DON’T GET EVEN, GET CRAFTY — 22 Nov 2024 — Laura’s Revenge.

• WHEN BRAD PITT BOUGHT ME FLOWERS — 22 Nov 2024 — .

• NO CHANCE SALOON — 24 Nov 2024 — DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

• FIFTY SHADES OF TIGGER! — 25 Nov 2024 — THE FLOUNCE

• CHOCOLATE COVERED ME: a month of feeling great, and another poem — 26 Nov 2024 — .

• KINDREDS IN KINDNESS — 28 Nov 2024 — Happy Thanksgiving

• The Kicker: face to face with your celebrity hero — 29 Nov 2024 — .

• DON’T STOP BELIEVING! — 2 Dec 2024 — Especially at Christmas

• SHE MEANS WELL — 3 Dec 2024 — There’s always one. Or two…

• A Little Loca — 6 Dec 2024 — .

• AIRPORT SECURITY — 6 Dec 2024 — Crochet hooks or drugs? Or me?

• RIDE LIKE THE WIND — 8 Dec 2024 — because I’m (pain) free again!

• ANGRY MASSEUSE — 9 Dec 2024

• NINCOMPOOP — 9 Dec 2024 — (don’t you just love this word?!)

• TIS THE SEASON FOR SCINTILLATING CONVERSATION — 10 Dec 2024 — How long can you keep it up?

• TWAS THE MESS BEFORE CHRISTMAS — 14 Dec 2024 — And where are my elves?

• EGGSHELLS — 17 Dec 2024 — .

• MAYBE I’M AMAZED — 18 Dec 2024 — .

• FONDLY REMEMBERED — 19 Dec 2024 — .

• I ONLY SAID I MIGHT — 19 Dec 2024 — ..

• SUNSETS AND KUMBAYA, MY FRIEND — 22 Dec 2024 — “Un jour de plus en moins”

• TAKE ME TO WHERE THE SMILING PEOPLE LIVE — 23 Dec 2024 — .

• THE CHRISTMAS BEFORE POETRY — 25 Dec 2024 — Twas the night before Christmas, just one year ago

• PRELOVED WITH TAPE DECK — 26 Dec 2024 — .

• LES MAUVAISES LANGUES — 27 Dec 2024 — Gossipeers!

• SITTING DUCK — 28 Dec 2024 — Shrug it off

• ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A SAD AMOEBA — 30 Dec 2024 — So sad, sick and skinny.

• WHEN GIANTS TOPPLE — 31 Dec 2024 — A love poem for my parents, but that I cannot show them

2025

• ALL THE WAY — 1 Jan 2025 — And I loved it!

• STARLIGHT — 2 Jan 2025 — For S.

• EAGLES AND AMAZONS — 4 Jan 2025 — It’ll never work

• Silver Lamé — 5 Jan 2025 — Strike a pose?

• LASAGNE, LINDOR BALLS AND GREAT GLUGS OF CAVA — 6 Jan 2025 — Catatonic in Catalunya

• JANUWEIRDLY — 10 Jan 2025 — One eye on the pot

• PERKY PACKAGE — 12 Jan 2025 — Caspar made a boob

• THREE ON MONDAY — 13 Jan 2025 — (Because the other title attracted weirdos)

• WHAT TO FRY NOW! — 14 Jan 2025 — Leave Nicole alone

• THE PRINCESS AND THE PIQUE: an expensive indifference — 22 Jan 2025 — .

• DJ BONK’S BIG COMEBACK — 23 Jan 2025 — From Viareggio to Ibiza then straight on til morning!

• SUNBEAMS THROUGH THE MIST — 23 Jan 2025 — A poem for hope

• THE DROLDRUMS — 28 Jan 2025 — Just fix that sad place with an R

• GONE TO THE DOGS — 29 Jan 2025 — Tulipooli tulipoola!

• THE VALLEY OF LOST LAUGHTER — 2 Feb 2025 — too much darkness

• SNOW WHITE — 5 Feb 2025 — But a grunge version, with a bedhead

• CYMBAL CRASHING TERRITORY — 8 Feb 2025 — I am beyond the drum-roll

• SANCTUARY — 10 Feb 2025 — Like a prayer

• A POEM ABOUT ME — 14 Feb 2025 — Where poetry meets a tale of sunshine in Ibiza

• I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT WE NEED — 18 Feb 2025 — A very special place

• WISDOM — 20 Feb 2025 — Imagine everything this oak tree knows

• THE WUSS, THE WIMP AND THE SHETLAND PONY — 23 Feb 2025 — And a black stallion, too, obviously

• STARSKY AND HUTCH AND THE STOLEN CAR — 26 Feb 2025 — What follows is based on a true story and took place in Geneva, where nothing exciting ever happens. Until my friend B. drove into town…

• We are all just tiny sparkles — 28 Feb 2025 — Change the world! Be a Sparkler!

• SOMEWHERE IN THE WIND — 28 Feb 2025 — Always with you

• THE MORNING AFTER — 1 Mar 2025 — Somehow, I found some words

• Rude Man with a Cigar — 3 Mar 2025

• SLEEPLOGGED — 4 Mar 2025 — Fatigue and chronic illness

• THE SECRET TO ETERNAL CONFIDENCE — 6 Mar 2025 — A random encounter with a wizard

• LET THEM EAT CHOCOLATE BUNNIES — 6 Mar 2025 — Said the blonde

• ICE QUEENS — 7 Mar 2025

• Swiss Haiku — 7 Mar 2025

• THE ANSWER IS NOT ALWAYS YOGA — 10 Mar 2025 — But a cat helps

• LIMPING BACK TOWARDS FUNKY TOWN — 11 Mar 2025 — Adagio Lamentoso Doloroso Molto Fed Up Oso!

• ARRIVALS — 13 Mar 2025 — Where love lingers

• VOWELS AND PLUM PUDDING — 17 Mar 2025 — A cautionary tale with a happy ending

• THE SLY WARRIOR — 18 Mar 2025 — For THOSE moments

• BLONDE IN A RECLINER — 19 Mar 2025 — A haiku

• THE LIST OF UGLINESS — 20 Mar 2025 — Love muddles sometimes

• FOREVER FAST, FOREVER FABULOUS — 21 Mar 2025 — Formula Forsythia

• DEATH BY ADRENALINE: motorcycle madness — 23 Mar 2025 — A Haiku

• HOW TO TAME YOUR TULIPS — 25 Mar 2025 — Tulips, and me

• Wait For Me!! — 26 Mar 2025 — Me…me…me…… (fading into a long echo…)

• FEELING HOT HOT HOT (NOT) — 30 Mar 2025 — A VBP BY ME IN PBC

• MEDITATING WHILE WASPS FIGHT — 3 Apr 2025 — An attempt at defying world static

• BIRDS, BEES AND BREAKFAST — 7 Apr 2025 — A Haiku on Meh-Monday

• ALTERNATIVE FACTS — 8 Apr 2025 — The truth lies somewhere in between the dark and the light

• TINY TARZAN — 8 Apr 2025 — Gingins Fashion Week

• TROPHY WIFE — 11 Apr 2025 — White gold

• SNAILS ON PARADE: a memoir — 12 Apr 2025 — Saturday night Fibro

• GOOSEBERRY — 17 Apr 2025 — Pre-launch oohlalalalala

• MY BODY WANTS TO BE SPANISH: From Ibiza Dreams to a (fabulous) Catalan Compromise — 21 Apr 2025 — Notes from a nationally confused romantic

• THE REEL THAT MADE ME CRY IN THE WAITING ROOM — 23 Apr 2025 — My daughter made a film about me

• HIGGLEDY ISN’T PIGGLEDY — 25 Apr 2025 — Mr Perfecto

• WORLD PEACE — 29 Apr 2025 — A Hymn to Harmony

• SHOWDOWN AT DAWN: tutus and thunder — 30 Apr 2025 — .

• JENNY FROM THE STABLE BLOCK — 2 May 2025 — Kind of guest starring Jennifer Lopez

• TINY STARS — 3 May 2025 — Pre-dawn musings

• LOCAL BIRDIES — 4 May 2025 — Do birds have accents?

• THE POETRY POLICE — 5 May 2025 — A survival guide for Rule-Breakers, Drama-Queens and Keyboard-Frolickers

• TINY REMOVER, BIGGER FEELINGS — 9 May 2025 — A journey through place, poetry, and fear of the big story.

• SHIMMER-HUNGRY — 10 May 2025 — I shall be unstoppable

• THE SHAPE OF HEALING — 11 May 2025 — Going native

• GOLD-PLATED GOODBYES — 13 May 2025 — A golden silence

• THREADBARE — 15 May 2025 — The weight beneath the smile

• SIMPLE MINDS, COMPLICATED LIFE and a poem — 16 May 2025 — Some personal news

• Don’t mind me, I’m just birdwatching in my nightie — 18 May 2025 — How I mistook a Hoopoe for an owl, and accidentally joined the birdwatching elite

• WHEN A FRIEND TURNS YOUR POEM INTO A SONG — 19 May 2025 — On poetry, friendship, and unexpected, unforgettable gifts.

• STRENGTH YOU CANNOT SEE — 22 May 2025 — Held together by patience, hope and a sense of humour

• Date Night With Monica Bellucci (Cancelled due to Alien Invasion) — 23 May 2025 — Or what to expect when you’re expecting an alien

• I MADE THIS — 26 May 2025 — I’m a shy writer learning to speak up

• YOU’RE NOT CRAZY, YOU’RE JUST ADVENTUROUS — 28 May 2025 — Are there any bubbles of love?

• MINT ON THE PILLOW, MOUSE IN THE BED — 29 May 2025 — An unexpected tale of family, Formula One, and furry freeloaders.

• THE FINE ART OF LOITERING — 30 May 2025 — Take me to Shenaniganland

• THE NIGHTINGALE’S FIRST SONG — 31 May 2025 — A lesson of patience, courage, and finding your voice

• THE EMPRESS AND I — 2 Jun 2025 — Imposter sydrome be damned! I have entered my imperial era!

• Microdosing, Biking, and my Second June reading — 2 Jun 2025 — Absolute Pants: Because he’s driving us all round the bend

• WILDFLOWER — 2 Jun 2025 — A poem about the art of reappearing

• AN EXTRAORDINARY ART EXHIBITION IN GIRONA: Women Botanical Illustrators — 3 Jun 2025 — Finally, I managed to leave the house!

• Today’s Poetry Reading — 4 Jun 2025 — I swear I wasn’t high when I wrote this

• THE SCENT OF WHO YOU WERE — 4 Jun 2025 — A Journey Down Jasmine Lane

• SNAKES AND LADDERS — 5 Jun 2025 — Thwarted Times

• THE RONAN KEATING EFFECT — 7 Jun 2025 — On health, hope, and sparkling baked potatoes

• GOSSIPEERS — 7 Jun 2025 — Side-effects may include sauerkraut breath

• JOHN TRAVOLTA — 8 Jun 2025 — From Dante to Danny Zuko

• Switzerland, Sunshine, Self-Love, Injections and a Chipped Tooth — 10 Jun 2025 — Oh, the glamour!

• Chocolate Face! — 10 Jun 2025 — A reading

• SPACE AGE CHEMIST PANDEMONIUM — 10 Jun 2025 — Shot down by Paracetamol

• THEY ONLY READ GOOD POETRY — 11 Jun 2025 — And sometimes they let you know

• LIKE A PRAYER — 12 Jun 2025 — A poem for those lucky enough to rise gently

• My Body Wants to Be Spanish, so I’m going back to Spain! A reading — 13 Jun 2025 — And Badu wants some fresh shady earth

• A RECIPE FOR PEACE — 14 Jun 2025 — With extra tomatoes and a side of Gloria

• SOFT VOICE, SHARP ARROWS — 15 Jun 2025 — When delay meets precision

• GARDENS WITHOUT BORDERS — 16 Jun 2025 — A haiku for inclusivity and solidarity

• PAGING REESE WITHERSPOON — 17 Jun 2025 — The disaster movie has no snacks. Also, may I suggest spiking the Brownies?

• A RECIPE FOR PEACE WITH EXTRA TOMATOES AND A SIDE OF GLORIA: the reading. Because I said I would, and it’s good practice. — 18 Jun 2025 — A poem :)

• EVEN IN STILLNESS, WE CAN CHANGE — 21 Jun 2025 — A solstice reflection on quiet transformation, poetry and healing

• HOW TO PLANT EMPATHY IN OUR BACK GARDEN — 22 Jun 2025 — A gentle guide to cultivating kindness, even when the world feels upside down

• BECOMING BOUGAINVILLEA — 23 Jun 2025 — For anyone ready to climb toward the light

• BAREFOOT — 24 Jun 2025 — Sun on your shoulders, sand between your toes

• PASTEL IS CANCELLED, WE’RE GOING FRIDA KAHLO’S KITCHEN — 25 Jun 2025 — And why not?

• THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE BIRDS — 26 Jun 2025 — Dusk’s choreography

• WARNING FLAGS AND REPEAT OFFENDERS — 27 Jun 2025 — When the heart forgets what the mind keeps whispering

• SHE TOLD ME STORIES — 29 Jun 2025 — A tribute and a love letter in whispers, teak and time

• WHO WERE YOU WITH LAST NIGHT? — 30 Jun 2025 — A mischievous meditation on the amuse-bouches of the subconscious

• A RABBIT ON THE FAIRWAY AND OTHER SUMMER OBSERVATIONS — 2 Jul 2025 — On cicadas, poetry readings, and the underrated power of a compliment.

• CELESTIAL COUTURE — 3 Jul 2025 — Where the moon floats in on velvet, the birds bring the vibe, and the rabbit brings…nothing

• THE SPARKLE REVOLUTION — 4 Jul 2025 — Changing the World One Compliment at at Time

• A SPARKLE FROM JONATHAN POTTER — 5 Jul 2025 — Two Poems Meet in a Moment of Synchronicity

• OFF-KEY AND ON THE ROCKS — 6 Jul 2025 — Popcorn children, off-key power ballads, and Aperol Spritz

• THE SPACE BETWEEN US — 7 Jul 2025 — On emotional debris and seeking the strength to reach across the divide

• LA FETE DU LAC (OFF-KEY AND ON THE ROCKS, version française) — 8 Jul 2025 — Pop-corn et fausses notes au bord de l’eau

• AUDIBLY DELIGHTFUL (or not…) — 8 Jul 2025 — How I became a devote audiobook snob, thanks to a snapped rib, a sprained neck, and several terrible doctors

• FIFTY SHADES OF BIC — 10 Jul 2025 — From the stationary aisle to the edge of ecstasy

• RUBIES AND RUBBLE — 10 Jul 2025 — Somewhere over the rainbow, everything burns

• HOW TO PLANT EMPATHY IN OUR BACK GARDEN — 12 Jul 2025 — A reading right after a weather alert!

• GOSSIPEERS! — 13 Jul 2025 — Beware the side-effects of gossip…

• PERMISSION TO PLAY! — 14 Jul 2025 — Join Jane Pike’s Shitty Bird Club 🦆🪿🦅🦉🐥

• JOYRIDE — 15 Jul 2025 — Deep blue sky, sequinned sea, perfect car, perfect we

• A TO-DO LIST FOR THE GROUNDED — 16 Jul 2025 — A sun-drenched rebellion against limitation

• DIAMONDS IN YOUR PUDDLE — 17 Jul 2025 — Gentle encouragement when everything feels like sludge

• DRAGONFLIES KNOW NOTHING OF WAR — 20 Jul 2025 — Observe, give thanks, name, adore

• ANIMA MUNDI — 21 Jul 2025 — The Kindness Conspiracy

• FIFTY SHADES OF BIC, or where I attempt to channel Stiffler’s Mom 🤪😝 — 22 Jul 2025 — Let me doodle in your margins

• FRISKY BUSINESS — 22 Jul 2025 — Auditing the logistics of illicit lust

• EXCLUSIVE: SPANISH STUDY FINDS EVIDENCE THAT DUCKS ALSO ENJOY NOVELTY — 24 Jul 2025 — Mallards crave sparkle just like the rest of us

• MAD WORLD — 26 Jul 2025 — Juxtapositions of privilege and war

• THE ART OF SMALL THINGS — 1 Aug 2025 — Stitch by stitch, we begin again

• SOFT DAY — 3 Aug 2025 — Under a hesitant sky

• THE DAY I BECAME A POETRY ROCKSTAR — 10 Aug 2025 — Who Was That Confident Woman?

• LOOK WHAT I GOT NOMINATED FOR! — 13 Aug 2025 — Ages ago…and then the dog ate my homework kind of sort of…

• THE CASE OF THE MISSING MINI — 14 Aug 2025 — How to misplace a car, annoy two policemen, and still make it home in time for tea!

• TAWANDA! - Unstoppable — 16 Aug 2025 — The amateur cyclist’s guide to fearless living

• FAST AND FURRY — 18 Aug 2025 — Nine Lives, No Brakes

• BIRDIES BEHAVING BADLY? — 19 Aug 2025 — A tiny summer Haiku

• INTERNAL AFFAIRS — 19 Aug 2025 — No Buble for Me 😭

• SHE MEANS WELL, a poem about that snarky friend who can’t help gossiping — 20 Aug 2025 — Because there’s always one

• THE OLIVE TREE AND THE MERMAID — 21 Aug 2025 — How a Costa Brava legend gave the world its juiciest olives

• ESTEBAN MARAVILLOSO AND THE POOL OF WONDERS — 23 Aug 2025 — As recorded in my lucky notebook

• FOREVER FABULOUS — 25 Aug 2025 — On hips, colours, and forever-fabulous friendship

• DON’T YOU… — 29 Aug 2025 — Health as a hidden remix

• BEYOND THE BRIM — 31 Aug 2025 — Where words crash, kiss and carry you.

• DRIVEN TO DISTRACTION — 2 Sep 2025 — One laptop, one woman, too many tabs

• MISE EN SCENE — 2 Sep 2025 — En français dans le texte

• GONE TO GROUND — 4 Sep 2025 — Currently (sort of) unavailable

• THE SEDUCTION — 6 Sep 2025 — How to smoulder without saying a word

• I SHALL NOT BE TAKING THE LITERARY WORLD BY STORM TODAY — 10 Sep 2025 — Bound by dreamcatching duties

• OH, TO BE DRUNKEN SAILORS TODAY! — 11 Sep 2025 — The Art of Floating Through the Day

• FOREVER FABULOUS — 12 Sep 2025 — A Riot of Hips, Colours and Forever Friends

• HOW TO BECOME A WORLD CLASS POET — 13 Sep 2025 — A Masterclass in Making it Up as You Go

• UP YOU GET — 15 Sep 2025 — Your knees were never meant for grovelling

• BREAKING NEWS: BEDLAM AT WINDSOR CASTLE — 18 Sep 2025 — Boxers, Buckets and Beyoncé: Windsor’s Wildest Night Yet

• HANG ON A SECOND! — 19 Sep 2025 — How I fished my dignity from a drawer of sad knickers and danced my way out of people-pleasing

• WHEN I AM WELL — 23 Sep 2025 — Cowboy Boots, Arabellah Gherkin-Devine, and Returning to Life

• EPHEMERAL BLESSINGS — 24 Sep 2025 — Mindfulness, the Feline Way

• NOTHING, REALLY — 25 Sep 2025 — and yet…

• VELVET BLESSINGS — 27 Sep 2025 — We remember. We forgive. And we begin again.

• VOWELS AND PLUM PUDDING — 2 Oct 2025 — A cautionary tale with a happy ending

• KEANU IMAGINE — 3 Oct 2025 — Confessions of a Mars bar thief back in 10th grade

• DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE WERE PRETTY? (VELVET BLESSINGS) — 3 Oct 2025 — But mirrors were cruel…

• THE LEOPARD — 11 Oct 2025 — Look for the signs

• AND THE AWARD FOR LOVEDOVES OF THE YEAR GOES TO… — 16 Oct 2025 — Why we won’t win Lovedoves of the Year, but deserve a standing ovation anyway

• YOU MUST TRY YOGA — 17 Oct 2025 — Ninety minutes with Yoga Master Namastanley

• BLINDFOLDED — 24 Oct 2025 — Where’s my pink?

• SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER — 25 Oct 2025 — come in your pjs

• CURIOUS GEORGE, the FRENCH LOVER AND ME — 26 Oct 2025 — Quelle affaire!

• EMERGENCY INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE VERBALLY STRANDED — 27 Oct 2025 — Step-by-step outrage management

• THE DAY TINKERBELL DIED — 30 Oct 2025 — The quiet heartbreak of being too kind in a careless world

• AROMATHERAPY FOR THE LISTLESS — 2 Nov 2025 — Postcards from Meh

• GOD’S GIFT — 3 Nov 2025 — Proof that even God enjoys a duvet day

• THE COLOUR OF QUIET — 6 Nov 2025 — Today, my therapist is a big bag of wool

• OPTIMISM STEW — 8 Nov 2025 — A recipe from the Unrepentant Dreamers Cookbook

• YOU MUST TRY CANVA — 8 Nov 2025 — (After “You Must Try Yoga”)

• PERMISSION TO DRIFT — 9 Nov 2025 — after a bad day

• A MANIFESTO FOR JOY — 11 Nov 2025 — For anyone who forgot they were an artist

• EARLY BIRD, INDOORS — 13 Nov 2025 — Dispatches from aches in the emberlight

• CREATIVITY IN MY MEDICINE CABINET — 16 Nov 2025 — Pencils, Paint, and Teabags

• HONESTLY, MOST DAYS — 17 Nov 2025 — thoughts from the crack of dawn

• A NIGHT AT HOOTERS — 18 Nov 2025 — The Cute Chickadees’ Last Saloon

• COSMIC CHAOS AND ANTI-TNFS — 21 Nov 2025 — The Astrology of Infliximab

• LIVIN’ LA VIDA LOW-BATTERY — 22 Nov 2025 — News from the holding pattern

• Sunday Morning — 23 Nov 2025 — A few of the things I’ve read, done, and watched this week

• MY HORRENDOUS, BEAUTIFUL, SURPRISINGLY GOOD YEAR — 26 Nov 2025 — Socially obliterating? Absolutely. Soul-crushing? Pas du tout!

• WONDER WOMAN, UNCORSETED — 27 Nov 2025 — Long live the wobble, the wiggle, the woman!

• MY NAME IS SERENDIPITY — 1 Dec 2025 — A Little Ode to Life’s Most Fabulous Surprise Guest

• THE RICKY MARTIN COUNTDOWN CRISIS — 4 Dec 2025 — (to be sung to the tune of The Teddy Bear’s Picnic)

• A LINGUISTIC FANDANGO — 8 Dec 2025 — Let’s throw a dance party for words!

• THE DEEP END — 10 Dec 2025 — Where the Wild Things Went

• THE YEAR WE KEPT GOING — 13 Dec 2025 — Applause for unglamorous victories

• NOT THIS YEAR (AND THAT’S OK) — 14 Dec 2025 — Celebrating, quietly

• VELVET SILENCE — 16 Dec 2025 — Rest is not surrender

• THE KINDNESS OF SLEEP — 17 Dec 2025 — Maybe Tomorrow

• BETWEEN HEMISPHERES — 20 Dec 2025 — Notes from the rude hours

• SOUTHBOUND — 23 Dec 2025 — My happy place

• GREY SKIES, GREAT NEWS — 26 Dec 2025 — Pain, pyjamas, and a plot twist

• THE WOODLAND SYMPHONY — 28 Dec 2025 — A Vivaldi flash mob,

• SILVER-GREY — 30 Dec 2025 — a message from the end of the middle

• SCIENCE FICTION — 31 Dec 2025 — A tiny poem, and a thank you note ❤️

2026

• IBIZA MADE ME DO IT — 4 Jan 2026 — Just like a…haiku

• MOON WORRIES — 7 Jan 2026 — Sequins and concern

• MAVERICK — 9 Jan 2026 — Tom, a perm, and a black Labrador

• GLITTERFALLING — 11 Jan 2026 — Ephemeral enchantment

• SUNSET DRESS AT ES CUCONS — 13 Jan 2026 — One rumour, two dresses, no Rickys

• I WENT OUT FOR DINNER — 22 Jan 2026 — On immunosuppressants, fear, and getting my life back

• CELEBRATE IN SEQUINS — 23 Jan 2026 — (unless you’re undercover. Or a robber)

• SUNSHINE, SERIALIZED — 24 Jan 2026 — Ibiza, July, no passport required

• DO NOT LOSE HOPE IN HOPE — 30 Jan 2026 — Amber solace, whiskers and wonder

• MY FIRST TIME — 31 Jan 2026 — How I accidentally became someone who public-speaks

• EFFERVESCENCE OF THE MOST FABULOUS KIND — 3 Feb 2026 — Wish upon a superstar…

• WE RISE — 5 Feb 2026 — It’s time

• ALLERGIC TO SPARKLES — 8 Feb 2026 — Back in bed, but also back in Ibiza

• ESTRANGED — 10 Feb 2026 — thoughts on the shrapnel of language

• BLONDE-SHELL-IN-CHIEF — 12 Feb 2026 — Nails painted Evil

• A ruby and diamond belly-button piercing — 15 Feb 2026 — Hippie-deluxe

• THE CAT WON’T EAT, THE RAIN WON’T STOP, THE NEWS IS CATACLYSMIC. But there are tulips… — 19 Feb 2026 — Storms everywhere, including in my heart

• I WENT ON A PODCAST… AND DIDN’T PANIC! — 21 Feb 2026 — And discovered that I’m actually a chatterbox

• CRAZY IN LOVE — 25 Feb 2026 — Seasonal Pandemonium

• Fashion Show, March 6, 2026 — 6 Mar 2026 — Caldes de Malavella, Spain

• Tales of Triumphant Trumpeting — 8 Mar 2026 — Dinner, Dutch praise, unfortunate wine time travel, and the sudden Bridgerton aspirations of my bosom

• Hope Clearing Its Throat — 8 Mar 2026 — On glass, rainbows, and the quiet acrobatics of light

• BABOON BUMS AND CARROT CAKE — 11 Mar 2026 — A visit to Girona’s most beautiful bike shop, where fortunes are spent on haute-couture Lycra and where I support the cycling community with cappuccino

• EMBRACING MY INNER SEARED SHRIMP — 15 Mar 2026 — Tales from a Spanish Thalassotherapy Clinic

• SILVER SAUCERS — 16 Mar 2026 — What a shell wants

• ROLL CALL — 17 Mar 2026 — A cheerful inventory

• LADIES WHO LAUGH — 19 Mar 2026 — wearing black bathing caps

• SALTWATER AND SOFTNESS — 21 Mar 2026 — On healing, female friendships, and remembering who I was before my body went wonky

• AND THEN THERE WAS…A MUFFIN! — 22 Mar 2026 — Happiness fresh from the oven

• GREAT TITS — 23 Mar 2026 — Big jugs

• QUEEN — 24 Mar 2026 — Skeins of delight

• SWAGGERMAN — 25 Mar 2026 — Knights in Shiny Shoes

• SUN-SMOOCHED AND THANKFUL — 26 Mar 2026 — A thalassotherapy retreat at Palasiet

• SUNDAY SPECIAL: books, clothes, television, news! — 29 Mar 2026 — All the things

• KILLERTHUGS — 8 Apr 2026 — Double-O Losers

• THE LADIES WHO LAUGH…now have a theme song — 15 Apr 2026 — Because I’m in Ibiza (sort of)

• THOSE GREAT NIGHTS AT HOOTERS — 16 Apr 2026 — Carl Cox devotees at the Cute Chicakadees Last Saloon

• DRAGONS IN OUR EYES — 17 Apr 2026 — We Rise

• Not Suitable for Geneva (or so I thought) — 26 Apr 2026 — An outfit that changed everything

• WONKY PHOENIX — 29 Apr 2026

• If Birds Barked — 9 May 2026 — On nightingales, noisy neighbours, and one very lucky Cavalier King Charles

• MOON BOOTS AND BOUGAINVILLEA — 10 May 2026 — My capillaries bloom better than bougainvillea

• KARMA QUACKS — 11 May 2026 — Ignorance destroys bliss

• “GOD LEFT INSTRUCTIONS EVERYWHERE” : AN INTERVIEW WITH ANTONI GAUDI — 13 May 2026 — The famous architect returns to talk dragons, squiggles, and why everything is too straight

• THE WOMAN WHO CAME FROM THE FUTURE — 2 Jun 2026 — Part on of my path to publication: on falling apart while closing in on forty, and finding your way back

• HOT AIR — 4 Jun 2026 — Promises, promises

• GEE YOUR HAIR SMELLS TERRIFIC — 6 Jun 2026 — In 1975, mine just smelled of DOP

• THE SECRETS OF ETERNAL CONFIDENCE — 11 Jun 2026 — The wizards of us

• CINDERELLA WITHOUT THE GLASS SLIPPER: Part two of my path to publication — 14 Jun 2026 — The handsome prince kept dancing with me. Then he went home with someone else

• TOO HAUGHTY TO PARTAKE IN FUN — 21 Jun 2026 — Part three of my path to publication

• BONJOUR, IT IS TRES TRES CHAUD — 27 Jun 2026 — A lakeside festival, sardines and mucho lolling

• CURIOUSER AND CURIOUSER — 11 Jul 2026 — Fun down rabbit holes

• OOH LOOK, A POEM POPPED OUT! — 26 Jul 2026 — KNOWING

• SUNSTONED — 2 Aug 2026 — Goodbye Spain. See you tomorrow, Switzerland

• TALL POPPY — 2 Aug 2026 — I’m growing things

• THE WORLD IS NOT YOUR OYSTER — 3 Aug 2026 — A poem on bad karma, good cake, and choosing to gallivant instead

• DAREANGEL — 14 Aug 2026 — A permission slip

• MY VOICE HAS NEVER BEEN MY CROWNING GLORY — 16 Aug 2026 — On turning my poems into songs, and finally daring to sing them myself

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Dear friends,

I think lots of us feel weird about our voices. I certainly do. Until mobile phones replaced land lines, I often got asked whether my mama was home when I picked up and said “Hello”. I have a tiny voice that doesn’t carry; reading out loud at school was so embarrassing because I was shy and hated doing it, and everyone would say “Francesca, you need to speak up, we can’t hear you”, which was mortifying. So I’d do my best to speak louder, which felt to me like I was shouting, and made me blush even more.

Also, I’ve always had a tendency to speak too fast and have often been told I mumble.

Ugh.

Basically, my voice has never been my crowning glory.

I’ve been ill for years and writing gave me a way of existing in a world I could rarely go out into anymore. I’m much better now – not cured because it’s autoimmune and chronic – but my immunosuppressant medication has restored my life to a certain extent. While my social life remains much quieter than it was (not that it’s been wild for a long time!), I get to do stuff again, if I’m careful.

Because I must be careful with my social life, my creative life is now on steroids. I wake up every morning wondering what I can write, what I can make, what I can Iearn to make, or what will I dare to make. I feel like a kid in a sweet shop; there are so many possibilities. And while I’m working on a novel, writing poetry, and editing my romantic comedy, Just Like A Movie, coming next spring from Empress Editions, I’m increasingly enjoying what began as a little extra-curricular fun.

I’d already turned some of my poems into songs using Suno, the AI music software. I’d even published some of them on Substack.

But they were always perfectly polished, sung by voices that were not mine, which made me feel safe. It made the exercise feel more light-hearted, kind of a joke and just for fun – as I initially called my Substack, until my confidence grew and I changed it to For Fun and Then Some. Having my songs sung by a voice that wasn’t mine gave me somewhere to hide.

I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to be as open and sensitive and as nutty and slightly bonkers as I truly am.

Suno recently introduced a feature allowing you to record your own voice and upload it to create a vocal profile. I hadn’t used it until yesterday, partly because I hadn’t figured out how to use it on my lyrics, and partly because it made me cringe at the thought of hearing myself sing.

Yesterday I thought, fuck it, let’s do this. If it sucks, it sucks. Who cares! I don’t have to publish it if I don’t want to. No big deal.

So I did. Initially, I only pushed the software to be “Francesca” at fifty percent, meaning it smoothed the audio, adding brio and power and goodness knows what else. It sounded really good – but not very much like me. So late last night, when I couldn’t sleep and needed to make something (as one does!), I made a cover of Best Friends, a poem from Illicit Croissants at Dawn, that I had already set to music. This time, I used my vocal profile and I pushed the percentage to one hundred percent. Then I watched, with a mixture of excitement and eek, as the software did its magic.

The result is very different from the original verson, but it definitely sounds quite a bit like me, albeit having been given a good polish. Then again, I bet most singers get a good polish when they record songs in a studio!

By then I was wide awake, itching to make something else.

How about a video?!

I uploaded an altered image of myself and the audio track to Kling, the software I use to turn images to video. I pressed the button that makes an avatar and left it to bake overnight – avatars take a long time to generate. They’re really expensive, too; my newfound interest in making videos definitely comes with a production cost!

When I woke up this morning I felt a little like a child at Christmas, eager to see what Father Christmas had brought. I opened my laptop, fearing another expensive disaster – I’ve had quite a lot of glitches in my avatars lately.

But Santa Kling had delivered, because there I was, lip-syncing Best Friends perfectly!

Did it feel weird to hear my own voice? It did. Did it make me cringe a little? Of course!

Did I hide?

Nope!

Would you like to watch my video?

I’m curious: is there something you’ve always secretly wanted to do, but decided you weren’t good enough at it to even try? Maybe it’s time to have a go, nevertheless.

Have a lovely Sunday!

With love,

Francesca xx

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Illicit Croissants At Dawn

Ignore
the switch-blade glare of
how dare you?

Rise above
the jealousy spitting from
who do you think you are?

There is nothing
dark in your endeavour,

You gorgeous dareangel,
You!

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Watch the book-trailer for JUST LIKE A MOVIE made by ME! Sound on! Music and lyrics also by me!

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Like what you’ve read, what you see? Let me know by pressing the heart! Even better; leave me a comment ❤️

Dear friends,

This week I bring you , a Health and Wellness Coach whom I met here on Substack when she interviewed , my publisher, on her podcast. Julia and I appear to have similar music taste (although I think I’m quite a bit older😆) as I also loved the soundtracks of John Hughes movies. I never get sick of “Don’t You (Forget about me)”, and although Julie didn’t mention that particular song, I’m pretty sure it’s a firm favourite, so I also added that video below. I wondered about her views on Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away,” which isn’t on a John Hughes soundtrack, but Top Gun came out around that time, and if there’s as a song bursting with romantic memories for me, I’d say it’s in my top three, up there with Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word and If You Leave Me Now. 🫠 What are your favourite butterfly belly songs, Julie?!

I could talk about music forever, especially seventies and eighties music, with more than just a little splash of nineties, as I loved loads of the boybands, and have never got over seeing Ricky Martin on television for the first time!

So if you want to talk about your favourite music in the comments, please don’t hold back! It’s such fun to relive moments in time through the music that we love.

🤩Here comes Julia:

BIOGRAPHY

Julia Granacki is a National Board-Certified Health and Wellness Coach (NBC-HWC), comprehensive Pilates instructor, and founder of The AGECRAFT Practice, where she helps people navigate the physical, emotional, and identity shifts of midlife and beyond.

Her approach blends evidence-based behavior change, movement, and nervous system regulation with a healthy skepticism of the cultural messages that frame aging as something to fear or fix. She works primarily with women, queer, and gender-expansive people to build resilience and a relationship with their bodies rooted in curiosity rather than control.

Julia also brings health coaching to Anna Barbieri Medical’s perimenopause and menopause care team. She trained at the Institute for Integrative Nutrition, Harvard Medical School’s Sustainable Nutrition Program, and the Kane School of Core Integration.

Julia’s guiding belief: midlife isn’t a problem to solve — it’s a chance to reconsider what’s working and craft the life you want.

TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS : THE QUESTIONS

Question 1:

If someone walked into a room and your life’s soundtrack was playing, what would it be? Why are those tracks special?

Definitely something along the lines of a John Hughes movie. Specifically Pretty in Pink - not because I think I am (pretty in pink), but that time and those songs bring a certain je ne sais quoi…a vibe that is the perfect mix of cool and awkward. It reminds me of being a neurodivergent teenager (before we even knew what that was) and wanting to belong but also being super sus about what might make a person “cool.” AND as a Gen Xer, this music is basically encoded in my DNA. It reminds me of how far I’ve come as an adult, but also, how I still feel like a kid!

Question 2:

Is there something you never finished, and does it still haunt you?

OMG. YES. As I write this, there is a film script I wrote in 2016 that I keep trying to get back to. Finally, about 6 months ago, I started converting it into a podcast, at which point I went down a series of rabbit holes and rewrites that ended with me giving up. It is the thing I think most about and the thing I can never find the time for. BUT, writing this now, makes my butthold pucker with anxiety because it is an excellent story and I NEED to get it done!

Question 3:

Did you ever have a crush on someone who ended up in your work? Would they know it was them, and do you care?

Not exactly, but when I was 14 I used to babysit for a friend of my mom’s. This friend had a newborn but ALSO had a grown teenage son who was a year ahead of me. Craig. Oh’ man. Craig was a new wave girl’s goth dream! He had that Tony Hawk haircut that required him to constantly toss his hair to the side to keep it out of his eye and somehow, every time he did, my heart skipped a beat (if you know you know). One Friday night while I was watching his baby sister, he came home early and I thought I might die. I was dressed in my parent-friendly, “I’m-a-nice-girl” outfit complete with pleated jeans, scrunchy white socks, and a white turtleneck under a pink sweatshirt with teddy bears on it that had fake fur to give it more texture. In walks Craig in all black, with Dr. Martens, looking so heartbreakingling dreamy, I thought I might faint, but he turned out to be so friendly! We sat and watched Sid & Nancy and talked comfortably until his folks got back. Then, it wasn’t until I got home that I realized I had literal sh*t smeared all over my sweatshirt from changing the baby’s diaper. Would Craig know this story is about him? Maybe. Do I care? Not really, but I am so curious as to whether he noticed the shit.

Question 4:

Do you have an absolutely pointless talent you are extremely proud of?

I can tell you the name of a movie within the first 30 seconds of hearing the soundtrack.

Question 5:

What are you reading, listening to, and watching that you absolutely adore?

I am currently reading My Husband’s Wife by Alice Feeney. I am nearly finished and very disappointed because I knew “who dunnit” about three quarters into the book. Blarg. I am currently obsessed with The Irrepressibles Mirror Mirror - this album came out in 2008 and I saw an excerpt of In this Shirt on Instagram and it absolutely broke me. I can’t believe this album flew under my radar for so long, but I’m so grateful to have found it! I am watching nothing that gives me much pleasure because now that Widow’s Bay is over, what is the point?

Question 6:

What are you still waiting for?

I am still trying to figure out who I am while simultaneously knowing exactly who I am. This is the contradiction of midlife. It is full of surprises!

Question 7:

Is there a question I haven’t asked you that you’d like to answer, or something you’d like to talk about? This is your opportunity to be bold and to brag, so don’t hold back!

Hmm…everything I’ve built in midlife. I left a bad relationship, and a comfortable, well-paying, lucrative career in real estate development and finance. I married the love of my life and began a career that lights me up. It hasn’t been easy, and I have my hands in many pots, but I wake up in the morning excited (most of the time) to see what the day holds. There’s a cultural narrative that when women reach a certain age, we’re supposed to fade into the background. I strongly believe that visibility is activism, so I’ve decided to do the opposite, which means taking up more space both professionally and personally than I ever did before. It still scares me more times than I like to admit, but I think it’s important for other women to see me doing it so they know they’re allowed to take up space too - at any age!

Voila! I hope you enjoyed this interview. I really enjoy hosting this series; it’s so much fun to learn about what makes people tick. I’m impressed by Julia’s useless talent; she must watch a lot of movies! And the poopy tee-shirt made me smile, because I can only imagine the angst afterwards… We’ve all been there, one way or another! Tell us about your embarrassing moments in the comments!

As for me, I’m a bit floppy after my immunosuppressant infusion last week. It hit me particularly hard this time as during the routine blood test it transpired that my ferritin level was at 3!! (acceptable is around 50, from what I understand), I had to go in this Monday for an iron infusion which is taking its sweet time to kick in. I feel a little like an astronaut. Weirdly, my brain is mega wired and doesn’t seem to want to switch off, and I’m not sleeping properly, which is also - apparently - one of the side-effects of low iron. I’ve been making loads of things late at night!!

Do stay to say hello to Julia in the comments, check out her Substack and her website!

Thank you for reading,

Love,

Francesca xx

PS: Watch the book trailer for JUST LIKE A MOVIE, coming March 2027 from Empress Editions 😎👑

Dear friends,

Today I’d like to introduce you to someone who has always been my hero. Ray Connolly, my uncle, was not only – as he says in his autobiography, Born At The Right Time, but was also born cool. Seriously. When I was a very young girl, my mama’s little brother would take me out to some mews stables so that I could ride ponies on Rotten Row in London’s Hyde Park. Everyone knows that riding ponies is the best thing ever, so riding ponies in Hyde Park while your cool uncle hangs around in his big funky Afghan coat is next-level fantastic, especially when you know he’s been hanging out with rock stars and movie stars.

Later on, when I became a shy teenager with unrequited crushes in the 70s, Ray would make me cassette tapes of all the best music, which my friends were jealous of. All the cool stuff was on those tapes, and a couple of my friends lucky enough to have sophisticated Hi-Fi (I automatically wrote Wi-Fi!) equipment with double tape decks would copy them. The others, all of them totally unpopular and lugging unrequited crushes like me, just had to come over, lie on big cushions on the floor, and dream about so-and-so asking us for a slow dance.

We waited a long, long time!

I no longer have the cassettes – they eventually broke, or got stuck in a tape deck and unravelled – anguish and despair!– but my friend Carolien later recreated The Green Tape from memory on Spotify, even getting the initial order right! Incidentally, Carolien is the friend I was thinking about when I wrote my poem – and later song lyrics – Girl Talk.

When we got Spotify, I made my own Green Tape playlist, but kept adding to it as I kept remembering other songs that had featured on the other tapes Ray made me, so my Spotify 70s playlist (probably also spilling way into the 80s) is called The Big Green Tape. You can find it here!

See, Ray worked as a music journalist, so record companies sent him all the new albums, and he interviewed so many of the greats, including Elvis Presley, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones, David Bowie… my mind boggles. Oh – and major brag here – his novel Stardust, the sequel to That’ll Be The Day, which both became movies – is dedicated to me. I had to wait a while to read it due to racy bits, but my bedroom was upstairs, as were the bookshelves, so I managed a sneak preview. Don’t tell my parents.

Ray developed Covid in April 2020 and was in hospital in a coma in London for many months. I’d had a weird premonition the morning he was hospitalised, and I rang him and his wife out of the blue, not having spoken to them in ages. Elaine answered, telling me Ray wasn’t very well, but she’d see if he could speak to me. When I heard his voice I had a bad feeling – Ray could barely speak. He was taken to hospital by ambulance later that day, and put into an induced coma. He reamained in a coma for many months, and (if I recall correctly) only went home in September. The only thing he remembers from his coma are the hallucinations. But Elaine spoke to a doctor or a nurse every night and wrote everything down, so when Ray was released from hospital and strong enough to write again, he wrote a radio play for the BBC which was produced and which you can listen to here. It’s a great, riveting, harrowing listen, and I highly recommend it. As you can imagine, I get really angry when people dismiss Covid as a hoax, refusing to wear masks, etc.

Ray didn’t want to answer my interview question 7 because bragging is not his style, which is why I bragged about him to you instead 😎

I’m sure you’ll love reading his answers.

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Here is Ray’s biography – I copy-pasted it from his website www.rayconnolly.co.uk

Ray Connolly has written novels, movies, television films and series, radio plays, short stories and much journalism. After graduating from the London School of Economics, he began a career in journalism at the Liverpool Daily Post, before writing a weekly interview for the London Evening Standard. Since then he has written for the Sunday Times, The Times, the Observer and the Daily Mail.

Follow Ray Connolly on Twitter

Watch the interview with Ray Connolly here.

Working with producer David Puttnam, he wrote the films That’ll Be The Day and Stardust, and wrote and directed the feature length documentary James Dean: The First American Teenager. He has also written for television, including the films Forever Young and Defrosting The Fridge, and the series Lytton’s Diary and Perfect Scoundrels. He also co-wrote the George Martin documentary trilogy about music, The Rhythm of Life for BBC2.

His novels include A Girl Who Came To Stay, Sunday Morning, Shadows On A Wall and Love Out Of Season. There have also been the biographies Being Elvis – A Lonely Life and Being John Lennon – A Restless Life.

For radio he wrote ‘Sorry, Boys, You Failed the Audition’, which he later adapted as a novella, as well as Lost Fortnight, which was about Raymond Chandler in Hollywood, Unimaginable, concerning the 24 hours around the death of John Lennon (whom he was due to see on the day the former Beatle was murdered), and Devoted, an account of his 102 days in intensive care, and nearly six months in hospital, with Covid in 2020.

He is married to Plum Connolly, has three children and two grandchildren, and lives in London

Of everything I’ve ever written, my novel Sunday Morning is the piece of work of which I’m most proud. When it was first published in 1992, I told its story by jumping backwards and forwards through the decades, from the early Sixties to the Eighties. It worked well, I thought. Then I moved on to other projects.

For some reason, though, the characters and story of Sunday Morning continued to loiter in my mind, to the extent that recently I began to wonder – might it have been a better book, if I’d told the story sequentially?

It took a while, but eventually I decided that the only way to find out was to publish a new version of the story, which, without losing a single character, scene or line of dialogue from the original, would tell in sequence how a group of friends launch a tiny magazine in London in 1963.

After which, against the background of the Sixties’ cultural explosion, youthful innocence, a ribbon of news, love affairs, wars, lies, music, infidelity and murder, not overlooking the dissolution of the Empire, they, and we, see the little magazine grow over the decades into a media conglomerate.

I’ve called the new version of the story Sunday Morning Revisited, because that is exactly what it is. But, of course, those who prefer the original will find that Sunday Morning is still available.

Read more about the book here.

TEA WITH MY FAMOUS…UNCLE

Question 1:

If someone walked into a room and your life’s soundtrack was playing, what would it be? Why are those tracks special?

Chanson de Matin played by the London Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Edward Elgar who also composed the piece. The BBC used to have a programme called Children’s Hour which ran from 5 until 6 every night. In those days (when I was about eight) the BBC was also keen on education and when they serialised Bunkle Butts In (a popular children’s novel by E M Pardoe) they chose a modern classical piece as the theme music. I loved the programme and the music. Interestingly Bunkle was a boy played by a teenage girl called Billie Whitelaw. She had quite a mixed career, and when I met her at a dinner party forty years later she only remembered the part of Bunkle as one of many she’d played in her teenage years. But to me he’d been the first character I’d ever modelled myself on. Interestingly, when I talked to George Martin about his career at EMI Records he told me how he produced Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance, and that he may easily have produced Chanson de Matin, too. He wasn’t sure. He said “the BBC needed lots of music, so we gave it to them.” He also produced The Archers theme music; it’s his fault!

b) There would have to be something by Elvis. Because, although he didn’t understand why, everything changed after he came along. I know most people would choose Heartbreak Hotel because in its day it was revolutionary, but I always liked some of his earlier SUN recordings like Trying To Get to You. Would I choose that, I don’t know. I’ve always liked Milky White Way which he sang on a religious album and a song called Doin’ The Best I Can, which is Kieron’s* favourite. Written by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman, it’s a piece of doo-wop which I suspect they hoped would be recorded by a black group. But then Elvis heard it first.

Many years later Mort Shuman and I planned to make a stage musical based on Morty’s song Save The Last Dance For Me and I suggested using Doin’ The Best I Can too. He agreed. But the musical never got made and then poor Morty died early.

And I’m still only on the second record 😉

After Elgar’s Chanson de Matin I would choose,

Elvis’s Mystery Train.

Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits,

A Man Needs A Maid by Neil Young,

Both Sides Now by Joni Mtchell,

The Harder They Come by Jimmy Cliff

God Only Knows, The Beach Boys

I’ll Be Seeing You by Almost Anyone

Autumn Leaves by Pat Boone.

America by Simon and Garfunkel.

During my 102 days in Intensive Care in 2020, I was in a coma for several months, at the end of which a nurse played Runaway by Del Shannon. By all accounts (Kieron and Plum*) I didn’t open my eyes or know anyone was there but I began to mouth the words and to use my arms and legs to accompany the music. And during the instrumental break in the song I used my fingers to play an imaginary pipe organ still with my eyes still closed.

Question 2:

Is there something you never finished, and does it still haunt you?

I regret not writing a sequel to Sunday Morning. I started it but after the first chapter decided it was too late in my life to write another big book. I should have carried on

Question 3:

Did you ever have a crush on someone who ended up in your work? Would they know it was them, and do you care?

I only ever had a crush on Plum.We met in 1960 and it took until 1966 for her to decide I was the right guy for her. In Sunday Morning she was called Emily.

Question 4:

Do you have an absolutely pointless talent you are extremely proud of?

I suppose my one talent is that I’ve never met a stranger!

Question 5:

What are you reading, listening to, and watching that you absolutely adore?

Nothing comes to mind

Question 6:

What are you still waiting for?

What am I waiting for? The pay check as always!

Here, once again, is the link to Ray’s radio play, Devoted, about his brush with death during Covid. It really is excellent. And I’m mentioned, too, albeit in one of his scary and weird hallucinations 🙈

Here is a link to all Ray’s books on Amazon.co.uk

Thank you, Ray, for answering my questions, and I hope my introduction doesn’t make you cringe!

Voila!

I hope you enjoyed reading this interview as much as I enjoyed writing and compiling it. I wish I had a photo of Ray in that fabulous Afghan coat! I bet he does… Ray, if you do, please send me a copy. ❤️

Sending everyone lots of love,

Francesca xx

My poetry collection, Illicit Croissants at Dawn, is available here

Listen to Girl Talk here; it’s one of Ray’s favourite poems in my book 😉

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The world is your oyster ?

But surely it’s bad karma

to pry your way into someone’s home

and gobble them up alive? 🦪

I’d rather gallivant beneath the sunflowers,

sniff lavender,

bake a cake and share it with my birds, bees and besties.

Just my two scents.

Hello from Switzerland!

We made it back, and I’m already missing my pool because it is HOT! And you should have seen the amount of bird poos under the plane tree!! I wrote a poem ages ago about how, each night, the plane tree becomes a bedroom for dozens, possibly even hundreds of birds, judging from the war zone beneath it! They sing themselves to sleep, and never bother to make a quick trip in the middle of the night to do their business elsewhere. Rude.

This poem popped out during the drive back; I fiddled with it on Notes while my husband was at the wheel. I also slept for over an hour, and only woke up because I heard myself snoring.

Charming 🙄

I was delighted to see that my roses have survived, and that the white climber I bought in memory of our lovely little Badu cat, who passed away in April, is doing well and has really grown! I must go out and deadhead all the rose bushes when the temperatures drop a little later on.

Badu has her own poem:

The poem about the tree is one of the first I ever wrote. It’s kind of cute and might make a cute illustrated children’s book 🦚🦅🪺.

If you’re interested in writing poetry but don’t know where or how to start, is running another tiny summer poem challenge as of today. I had never written a poem, nor been interested in poetry until early 2024 when I was down in the depths of the dumps because I was horribly ill, couldn’t go anywhere or do anything, and no medication was working. A friend suggested I try Beth’s poetry challenge, so I did.

A year later I published a book of poetry!

If you click on the link below, you’ll hear Girl Talk, a song I adapted from a poem in my book about teenage crushes and the high school reunions that come decades later. I hope it makes you smile 😊

My poems led to me. Alisa is the founder of Empress Editions, and has become my publisher. My romcom, Just Like A Movie, will be released by Empress next year, and I am currently working on the sequel (there will be three books), while also having the best time building a fabulous world around the book.

Enjoy the rest of your day,

With love,

Francesca xx

Illicit Croissants At Dawn

This little Empress painting came from a tea-stain painting I did last summer, and that I animated and turned into a gif.

SUNSTONED

Sunstoned gauras
flirt with teal saltwater
as a cinammon sun 
idles beyond white oleanders.

I surrender,
gliding blue, 
savouring one last swim.

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Dear friends,

We drive at dawn, back to Switzerland. A month in Spain swooshes by; I hope the temperatures drop a little, or that we discover that our house has a cooling system we didn’t know we had! A friend mentioned that she has a similar heating system to ours, and that hers does both. So fingers crossed! What a wonderful surprise it would be, as temperatures in Switzerland are similar to those we have here. Going outside feels like stepping into a fan oven.

We have had a lovely month here, first with a visit from my daughter Olivia and her husband, Tom, who are expecting their first baby in September! I’m excited to meet my grandson. When they left, two of my oldest girlfriends came for a visit, and it was so hot that we spent hours chatting in the swimming pool, turning into prunes. Once they left, we had a few days alone, until another girlfriend arrived with her husband. She and I used to go on riding holidays together, trailering our horses to the south of France, merging dressage clinics with fun in the sun around Saint-Tropez. We would return home with boxes of wine camouflaged underneath smelly, sweaty saddle-blankets in the trailer. It would have taken a determined customs officer to brave the pong; luckily we were never stopped! Anyway, she and her husband enjoyed a few days with us, and now it’s time for us to go home too. Well, back to our other home. I’ve managed to be extremely productive despite our visitors; once I become immersed in something creative I want to keep going! And going… My head is filled with projects and ideas, and I’m super excited about the coming months.

The Bohemians, from my poem in Illicit Croissants At Dawn

I’m currently listening to The Calamity Club, which is fantastic, while also reading One Golden Summer. We’re watching season two of The Four Seasons, and it’s ok. Prior to that we watched Summer 36, which was also ok. I’d love to watch something really, really good. Any suggestions?

What are your August plans? Are you going anywhere, or have you already been?

And please tell me what you’re watching, reading, and listening to; I’d love some really good recommendations.

Sending you lots of love,

Francesca xx

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Illicit Croissants at Dawn

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Dear friends,

My new animation enthusiasm had me searching for people working in the world of AI illustration and video. Pinkie is a branding expert whose whimsical, colourful world caught my eye, and through her I’ve found other creatives in this field. One of Pinkie’s fun prompts allowed me to make my tea stain Empress painting into my very own 50 Swiss Franc note…

You’ll learn about the vegetable that gives her hiccups, the Taylor Swift syllabus she’s still studying, and how a book by Taylor Jenkins Reid is currently keeping her away from basic housework.

I’m already a fan. I hope you enjoy meeting Pinkie and discovering her unique creative world.

AI MEETS GIRLBOSS

Question 1: If someone walked into a room and your life’s soundtrack was playing, what would it be? Why are those tracks special?

Okay, this one’s actually three songs, and they tell you everything.

Rewind to teenage me. I’m running an Avril Lavigne fan site with 5,000 members, and her music is playing on loop while I build forums nobody asked me to build. Nobody called it branding back then. I was just a girl who loved something enough to build a whole world around it. Turns out that’s exactly what I do now.

Fast forward a decade (and a half, shhh…). Enter Taylor Swift. Not a soundtrack exactly, more like a syllabus. Easter eggs, fandom, gamification, she built an empire out of making people feel like insiders. I don’t just listen to her, I study her.

But if you want the one track that really is me? @Natalie Nicholson wrote a song for me called ‘The Pinkie Effect’. We made it with Suno, and somehow it captures the exact energy I’m going for: you notice me, and then you start thinking differently about how you show up too. I didn’t have to describe that feeling to you. It exists as an actual song: We Made a Brand Song With Suno AI.

Question 2: Is there something you never finished, and does it still haunt you?

Something unfinished… My Substack. And I mean that. AI Meets Girlboss as a brand is seven months old. Before Substack it didn’t exist. I am a branding expert, helping the biggest brands show up consistently and now I’m building my own brand while I teach other people to build theirs, which means nothing is ever really done. The Branding Flock, the community, the whole thing, it’s all still becoming. I used to think unfinished meant behind. Now I think it just means honest.

Question 3: Did you ever have a crush on someone who ended up in your work? Would they know it was them, and do you care?

Ha, not a person, but a persona.

Before AI Meets Girlboss existed, I didn’t feel interesting enough to put myself online. Serious problem for someone who’d spent eight years building brand voices for other people. So my partner and I sat down and built an entire universe of characters instead, an owl, a dog, a cat, a snake, an octopus, before we landed on a flamingo. Sassy, stylish, one trend ahead of you but never looking down on you. That became Pinkie.

He’s the one who saw her before I did, and kept pushing until I believed it too.

So if falling for the woman I wanted to become counts as a crush, then yes. And he’s the one who introduced us. I wrote the whole story here, if you want the receipts: Turn Your Personality Into Your Brand Voice.

Question 4: Do you have an absolutely pointless talent you are extremely proud of?

I hiccup every single time I eat potatoes. Every time. Apparently that’s not a thing that happens to normal people. I’ve stopped fighting it and started treating it as my one true party trick.

Question 5: What are you reading, listening to, and watching that you absolutely adore?

Madonna’s new Confessions album, on repeat. I barely have time to sit down and watch anything these days, so audiobooks have become my whole personality. Right now I’m deep in The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, and I keep finding excuses to do dishes just so I can keep listening.

Question 6: What you’re still waiting for

For people to stop treating their Substack brand like a someday project. Like it’s a reward you unlock once you’re already big.

Here’s the thing, you don’t wait until you’re big to build the brand. The brand is what gets you there. I see it every week in my own numbers, and my flamingos figured this out long before I had to talk anyone into it.

Question 7: Is there a question I haven’t asked you that you’d like to answer, or something you’d like to talk about? This is your opportunity to be bold and to brag, so don’t hold back!

AI Meets Girlboss is at 1,700 flamingos now. I have a paid program called the Branding Flock helping solopreneurs build their brands with AI and I am enjoying the whole process + the community is amazing. Sometimes I laugh at myself thinking it’s a Substack that started because I had one free Saturday and ran out of excuses to keep circling the idea.

If a non-technical, non-native-English-speaking corporate branding lead can build this in seven months, it’s not a talent thing. It’s a starting thing. Anyone can start. I wrote about exactly how much a visual brand alone can move the needle here, if you want the actual numbers: Visual Brand System With AI: From 64 to 200 Substack Subscribers In 2 Weeks.

I hope you enjoyed this flamingo tea, friends. Thank you, Pinkie, for reminding us how important it is to simply START, and to not be afraid of what people will think. Whatever happens, happens, right? But – as my niece said - if you don’t go to the party, you don’t get a balloon.

Find AI Meets Girlboss here

We’re heading back to Switzerland on Monday, so I’ll be able to pay for things with my Empress painting money! Wouldn’t that be something?!

Lots of love,

Francesca xx

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Let me introduce you to Kathleen Hobbs, one of my earliest Substack friends, and someone who has always been friendly, kind and supportive, and whose positive energy and authenticity shines through both her posts and her comments. I am SO happy that Kathleen agreed to feature on my little series, and I’m sure you will love getting to know her. Her answers to my questions made me feel all warm and fuzzy. I wish she lived next door, and I think you will too.

Hello! I’m Kathleen Hobbs. I came to writing later in life, discovering my voice after I retired.

The soundtrack of my life begins with a little girl searching for love and belonging. It moves through years of loss and difficult choices, including leaving behind people I’ve loved. Along the way, I discovered faith, family, mountains, flowers, stained glass, writing and gratitude. The soundtrack doesn’t pretend life was easy, but it ends with hope instead of despair.

For years, I wanted to express my feelings about my childhood spent living in three Catholic orphanages. A few years ago, I came across Substack by way of Dan Rather and subscribed to his newsletter. After that, I became curious about who else was writing and what Substack was all about. I did not realize until I began reading people’s stories, poems, and essays, that this was my place. Everyone I interacted with was so encouraging and welcoming.

At first, I wrote personal stories about the orphanage in my family. Once I gained more confidence, I decided to show my silly, quirky side, and even ventured into writing poetry about God, family, and nature. It seemed that once I got started all the thoughts and feelings bouncing around in my head needed to be released. I felt restless. I no longer wanted to write, I had to write.

I’ve been retired for 18 years, and like many people my age, I enjoy traveling and making stained glass art. I’m known for my quirky personality, which I think I’ve learned after making it to the right old age of 77. There have been a few bumps in the road over the past couple of years, but I just buckle my seatbelt, thank God for another day and try to enjoy the ride.

Question 1:

If someone walked into a room and your life’s soundtrack was playing, what would it be? Why are those tracks special?

In my year early years, I wasn’t really exposed to much music. It wasn’t until my teenage years, that after school, all of us girls once our homework was finished, gathered around a little record player. Some of us just listened, while others danced. I still have fond memories of listening to the heartthrobs of the 60s. Paul Anka singing Put your head on my shoulder, and Frankie Avalon singing Venus. Later towards the end of high school, we are invited to the boys orphanage for dances a few times a year. No more dancing with the girls. Boys boys boys. The slow dances were the best. The brothers, who were in charge of the boys would quickly approach if you were dancing too close. After all the slow dance at the time was called the grind, though there really wasn’t much movement. When Bobby Darin, sang Dream Lover we all felt warm and fuzzy. At least that was a consensus as we rode the bus back to the girls orphanage. Music sure changed in the 60s and 70s. First came the Beatles, Simon & Garfunkel, The 5th Dimension andThe Beach Boys.

But my favorite groups all came from Motown. The Supremes, Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson, The Temptations and the Four Tops were at the top of my list. Every time I hear my girl, it takes me right back. I can’t help but sing along and dance. Another favorite was the Marvaletts singing, Please Mr. postman. My friend Marian and I both 12 years old, used to sing, please Mr. paperboy out the upstairs window to the tune of please Mr. postman. We both had a crush on him. And then there’s Sugar Pie Honey Bunch. That’s another one I still sing and dance to whenever it comes on. Later, disco and classic rock had us all dancing. After listening and dancing my way through the years, the soundtrack of my life has expanded to include easy, listening, and classical musical. But it always finds its way back to Motown.

(Incidentally, I love Dream Lover! It’s a track on the That’ll Be The Day album, from my uncle, Ray Connolly’s, film. Kathleen, I wonder if you know it? I thought I’d add the trailer ⬇)

Question 2:

Is there anything you never finished? Does it still haunt you?

I never finished my Family Tree Years ago, I took a genealogy class thoroughly enjoyed it. I love discovering the history of my ancestors. I was also able to help others fine long lost relatives, which was very rewarding. I started researching my family so my daughters could see where they came from. I’m still working on it. It’s like putting together a giant puzzle, trying to find all the missing pieces. It’s challenging, but I enjoy every minute of it.

Question 3:

Did you ever have a crush on someone you worked with? Would they know it was them, and do you care?

Yes, I did. Well, actually he had a crush on me first. One day at work, one of my daughters, who worked for the same company, came up to me and said my boss had asked if she thought I would be interested in going to a ball game with him. Later that week, he did approach me, but not to invite me to a ball game. Instead, he invited me to his house to meet his new puppy. Now that was a new one. He was a divorced father with sole custody of four children, an 18-year-old son and three daughters, age 16, 14 and 10. So I went, the puppy was outside, running around the swimming pool. I had taken off my shoes at the front door, and when I stepped through the sliding glass door onto the patio, you guessed it. I stepped right into the puppies business. I didn’t even realize it until I was standing in it. My boss felt absolutely horrible I eventually did go to a ball game with him. A few months later, after hearing the company was leaving California, I accepted a new job with another company. That made us both feel more comfortable about dating. We dated for a year and a half. We now have been married for 33 years, so I guess I cared.

Question 4:

Do you have an absolutely pointless talent you’re extremely proud of?

I wouldn’t say I’m extremely proud of it, but I do love organizing. I’m very good at it so I’ve been told. Point me in the direction of a total mess, and it will be taken care of in no time.

(Katherine, can you come over????!!! I have a few cupboards that need sorting…!)

Question 5:

What are you reading, listening to, and watching that you absolutely adore?

I just finished reading a biography of Robert Lewis Stevenson. I borrowed it from the library, I loved it so much that I ended up buying my own copy. I’m not listening to anything currently. As for television, my 15-year-old granddaughter has come to live with us for a while, so we’re watching The Little House on the Prairie, the new series. My favorite crime investigation show shows are just a little too grown-up for her.

Question 6:

What are you still waiting for?

I’m not really waiting for anything. I’m living my life one day at a time, as the saying goes, and I feel blessed with the life I have today.

Question 7:

Is there a question I should have asked you, or is there something you’d like to talk about this is your opportunity to be bold or brag, so don’t hold back!

Not to brag, but I’m proud of myself for riding 100 miles through parts of Idaho in Utah to raise money for MS when I was 65 years old What an experience! The training leading up to it felt brutal. First came 10 miles, then 20, then 40, and finally 60. That’s when I knew I could actually do it I have to admit, though those last 5 miles were a real struggle. I was never so happy to cross the finish line. As I recall, I was in the last group to come in. That didn’t matter to me. All I cared about, was finishing in one piece, and I was grateful it wasn’t a race.

And I think we should finish with one of Kathleen’s poems:

In the depths of my heart 
I can't imagine us apart 
I feel your longing 
Like a gentle calling.

Your breath moves softly through me. 
In your arms, I feel so free.  
I surrender to all of you, 
because I know this love is true. 
When you stand by me I feel 

safe 

like the incoming tide. 

Your love washes over me,
sets my heart sailing across the sea, 
and into the beauty of your blue eyes.

Voilà! Isn’t that just the loveliest interview? Subscribe to Kathleen’s Substack, Live to be Happy 🤩

Thank you, Kathleen, for taking the time to write about yourself. ❤️ Also, your “cute-meet” with your husband could become a romcom…. Just saying! Go for it; don’t hold back!

I’m in Spain for another few days, with friends visiting; they leave on Thursday and we will drive back on Monday to avoid the July/August switchover in traffic. I have my next immunosuppressant infusion on Tuesday; they are scheduled every two months, but I feel like they happen much sooner. My daughter Olivia is having her baby in mid-September, so we will be going to England to meet our grandson!! I’m excited to buy him so cute things, and I hope he thinks he has a very cool grandmother! I had hoped to be a galloping grandma but instead I’ll have to settle for being a romcom, poet, songwriting, animated video making and occasional painting grandmother. Which sounds cool enough, at least to me. Eek, I’m kind answering my own question 7!!

❤️NOW🎵

Tell us: have you ever had a first date go hilariously wrong, whether it turned into something real, or not? Don’t be shy!

Kathleen always returns to Motown. Is there any type of music, any song or songs that you always return to?

Clooney’s Cute Wobble 😉 a song I wrote from a poem in my book Illicit Croissants At Dawn

My tea stain painting that became an Empress gif!

Animation of my poetry book’s cover

And my romcom cover, coming next spring, animated. I’m improving these every day; the rabbit hole I’ve gone down has turned into a vast cave of delights 😍

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Dear friends,

It's been ages since I wrote a poem, but on this slightly cooler Catalan morning, where our pool has dropped below 30 for the first time in a month, a poem found me!

And now I must dash as I have friends arriving any second.

With love,

Francesca xx

KNOWING

I never really know,
Do you?
What is knowing
but a perfume
I once bought
certain
it might 
whoosh me in wisdom
once tickled by
my credit card?

I switched to
So Pretty.
Sadly it has been

Discontinued.

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Good morning,

Have you met Trudi Nicola? Her poetry is light, refreshing and sparkly, perfect for summer reading. The title of her book, Little Sparks of Light, says it all, and her Substack is always a pleasure.

Here is her latest poem:

ORDINARY MOMENTS

This is what
Happiness feels like -

A quiet contentment
An appreciation for
A sky of perfect blue
A soft and gentle breeze
Time to gaze
At green spaces
And contemplate
Anything, or nothing at all
The anticipation
Of a journey home
Time with those we love

This is what
Happiness feels like -

When awareness allows
Ordinary moments
To become extraordinary

I agree with Trudi. It doesn’t take much to be happy; simply publishing this interview series gives me so much pleasure.

Here is Trudi. I hope you will subscribe to her Substack.

Biography

I’m Trudi Nicola, a poet and writer from York, UK. I love the power of the written word to heal, to transform and to transport us to places we could only dream of. As a child, books opened my world and a spark of light ignited that still glows brightly today. I have the privilege of working in education and continue to pass on that spark of light to those I teach.

Question 1:

If someone walked into a room and your life’s soundtrack was playing, what would it be? Why are those tracks special?

This would depend entirely on which part of my life was being played! From my childhood, you would hear Abba, Blondie and Adam Ant. I still recall singing along to ‘Does your mother know’ when I was very small! Then, into my teen years, it would be anything and everything from the 1980s pop archive. Still love all this music now – Wham! were a favourite, and ‘Last Christmas’ is still the best Christmas song ever. As a student, I would listen to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons as I studied. Winter remains my favourite – so dramatic!

Then as an adult – oh so many choices! The soundtrack from Evita – with ‘I’d be surprisingly good for you’ as a favourite; ‘Superstar’ by The Carpenters (her voice!) and my husband playing the love theme from Cinema Paradiso on the piano. Touches my heart every time.

Question 2:

Is there something you never finished, and does it still haunt you?

Yes! Just one thing. I had the opportunity to start a funded Master’s in Women’s History, then fell pregnant with my first child, so didn’t take that opportunity. I still think about it.

Question 3:

Did you ever have a crush on someone who ended up in your work? Would they know it was them, and do you care?

No! Haha. I don’t recall having crushes on people as an adult. I’m all in with the one person, when I am in love.

Question 4:

Do you have an absolutely pointless talent you are extremely proud of?

I can say ‘Hello, my name is Trudi and I’m pleased to meet you’ in Japanese. Nothing else - and I can’t understand anything that is said back to me!

Question 5:

What are you reading, listening to, and watching that you absolutely adore?

I’ve just finished reading ‘The Calamity Club’ by Katherine Stockett and I can’t stop thinking about the characters, they were so brilliantly portrayed. I don’t really watch TV but am looking forward to seeing The Odyssey at the cinema on Friday. I studied Classics, so I will be interested to see how this aligns.

Question 6:

What are you still waiting for?

My youthful figure to return … in a manner which allows me to eat cake.

Question 7:

Is there a question I haven’t asked you that you’d like to answer, or something you’d like to talk about? This is your opportunity to be bold and to brag, so don’t hold back!

I was asked an interesting question last week: ‘What do you do for a living and what do you do that brings you joy?’ The first part was easy to answer – I train teachers. The second gave me pause. I would say that reading and immersing myself in other worlds has always brought me joy. I would add writing poetry to that. And just being out there in nature, nothing to do, nowhere to be. Pure bliss!

FIND TRUDI’S BOOK HERE.

Have a great week, and stay cool. It is much too hot in Spain, and the temperatures seem to be stationary. I’m hoping it will be cooler in Switzerland when we go back in early August. Are you also having an intensely hot summer? I don’t ever recall such temperatures for weeks on end.

With love,

Francesca xx ❤️

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I lit candles. I found a medieval-sounding playlist on Spotify. For some inexplicable reason I put on a kaftan. I made myself a huge mug of peppermint tea and – feeling a tad nervous – sat down, a fresh notebook and my favourite pen in front of me. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and then, telling myself I might possibly be out of my mind, summoned Michel de Nostredame, aka Nostradamus: apothecary, plague doctor, seer, and the man who has been blamed for every earthquake, terrorist attack, election and natural disaster since 1555.

He swaggered in within minutes, wearing a kaftan uncannily similar to mine, and smelling vaguely of moth balls and patchouli.

Francesca: Michel de Nostredame, welcome to How on Earth!

Michel de Nostredame, sitting up very straight: My name is Nostradamus.

Francesca, squirming: Of course. I apologise.

Nostradamus, sniffing, mouth twitching. Silent.

Francesca, clearing throat: Well, then. I’ll jump right in. Thank you so much for joining me. I know you’ve been terribly busy being misquoted on the Internet.

Nostradamus: It is no trouble. I have foreseen this interview several times. I even recall you considering your very first venture into podcast territory for this meeting. I knew that would never happen.

Francesca: miffed: And why is that?

Nostradamus: Your mind is far too busy with imaginary artefacts. There are only so many directions one’s mind can wriggle in at the same time.

Francesca: taken aback: Whatever. Anyway. Tell me about quatrains. Why did you choose to write in quatrains? Why not just write everything down properly?

Nostradamus: Madame, if I’d written that the baker on the corner will burn the bread on Tuesday, people would simply buy bread somewhere else on Tuesday. The obscurity is the point. Only an idiot would write a prophecy that can be fact checked.

Francesca: eyebrows tickling my hairline: You’re either honest, ultra cynical, or…

Nostradamus: giving me the side eye: Full of crap?

Francesca: Ok, so you read my mind, there. Sorry. Some say you predicted Hitler but didn’t get his name quite right.

Nostradamus, bristling: That’s a load of rubbish. I wrote about Hister, which was once the name of the Danube. Come on! I write about a river and four centuries later they’re saying I predicted the rise of the Nazis? The twentieth century’s disastrous level of reading comprehension is not my problem.

Francesca: You’re saying you didn’t predict the second world war?

Nostradamus, pointing a finger at me: I predicted a war. There is always a war. It’s arithmetic, not rocket science.

Francesca: What about your prediction that, seven months into 1999, terror would rain from the sky? You freaked out loads of people, and then… nada, zilch. What was that about?

Nostradamus, stroking his chin, nodding wisely: I presume I was merely rounding.

Francesca, leaning forwards, twirling my pen: Rounding?

Nostradamus: Seven months into 1999 sounds far more mystical than ‘sometime in the early 2000s, give or take a decade’. Besides, astrologically, there was loads going on. Mars was giving Mercury a bollocking. Venus was flirting with Jupiter because she had her eye on a halo, and Uranus had… issues.

Francesca: Right… I also recall Cosmopolitan mentioning that you predicted several celebrity breakups. Brad and Jennifer. Ben and Jennifer. Brad and Angelina.

Nostradamus: May I point out that you are speaking of two distinct Jennifers?

Francesca, snarkily: Really? Who knew!

Nostradamus, sighing wearily, as though exhaling centuries of WTFs: Everyone but you, apparently. Besides, what I said was ‘a golden couple is sundered by a dark shadow from the south.’ Your daily scroll of grievances is ripe with outrageous interpretations. I was most certainly referring to a border dispute.

Francesca, eye rolling: Everyone thought you were referring to Brad and Angelina.

Nostradamus, shrugging: Keep your sentences vague and lofty, and centuries later the fall of a civilization becomes all about a petty divorce. Were I to pen ‘two shall part who once were one’ today and by this time tomorrow simple minds will make it about a pop star.

Francesca, frowning while mentally rolodexing through decades of pop lyrics: I don’t recall those lyrics in a Simple Minds song. Are you sure you’re not thinking of the Spice Girls?

Nostradamus, slapping his cheek, shaking his head and once again exhaling wearily: OMG, as y’all say. Never mind.

Francesca: Basically, what you’re saying is that…nothing you say is ever intentional?

Nostradamus: Absolutely. That is the business model.

Francesca: So…you’re an astrologer with a phenomenal publicist?

Nostradamus: I’m just a very wise man who understood that vagueness is eternal, and that specificities never stand the test of time.

Francesca: Brilliant! Stealing that!

Nostradamus: Steal away, Madame. Stealing my lines is what keeps my legacy alive.

Francesca: Shall we tackle your legacy into the goal posts?

Nostradamus: Ah-ha, you wish to know whether Spain or Argentina will take home the supersized golden chalice?

Francesca, giggling: You predicted my question with such accuracy!

Nostradamus: Serve certainty on a plate and I shall feast.

Francesca: Spit it out.

Nostradamus, puzzled: Huh?

Francesca: Give me your prediction for the…golden chalice.

Nostradamus, steepling his fingers, leaning forwards looking very self-satisfied: I foresee a nation of red and gold, possibly of blue and white, lifting a chalice as a delighted crowd roars in unison.

Francesca, wrinkling my nose, taken aback: You almost sound like you’re paraphrasing Joni Mitchell.

Nostradamus: Precisely. ‘Both Sides Now’ has many interpretations. I also foresee a genius, small in stature, deft of feet, seeking one final glory. He will either achieve it or he will not, and history will hold him close regardless.

Francesca: You’re talking about Messi. But you’re also talking about the concept of football. Why so vague?

Nostradamus, speaking in a deep, gravelly voice: I foresee goals. I foresee men on the ground groaning. I foresee offside. I foresee…possible penalties. I foresee possible extra time.

Francesca: You’re predicting penalties? I love penalties!

Nostradamus: I said possible penalties. Interpret my words as you will.

Francesca: One last question. Any predictions regarding me?

Nostradamus, leaning forwards, studying me at length: I foresee a woman who writes of a golden eyed man and of paperwork disguised as passion. I foresee a manuscript that will not stay finished. I foresee an entire discography of songs that shall remain in people’s heads. And I foresee that you will publish this interview whether or not any of it is true, because this has always been my true gift. I’m all about confidence over prophecy.

Francesca: ‘Fake it ‘til you make it’?

Nostradamus: In a nutshell. I also foresee that you did not fact check anything I just said.

Francesca: Ha! I foresaw the exact same thing!

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Next time on How on Earth: Cleopatra reveals the secrets of her eyeliner.

Illicit Croissants At Dawn, poetry

That’s it from me – for fun and then some. If you enjoyed this, like, comment, share and subscribe. It genuinely helps more than you’d think.

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Tea with my Famous Friends: because we’re all famous to someone. ❤️

Dear friends,

When I came across Cori Bren’s Substack, she immediately struck me as a woman with whoosh, someone who is supportive and kind and full of enthusiasm. Cori and I particularly connected over one of my tiny tea-stain paintings, a little bird that inspired a poem called Serendipity, which then became the bird’s name when Cori asked me whether she could use the tiny painting and the poem in the children’s book she is compiling. I was thrilled, of course, and yes with great pleasure! Cori is super supportive of other writers, the queen of memes, and she really went to town answering my questions. I’m sure you’ll find them most entertaining! Subscribe to her Substack!

Let’s start with a short biography:

Although a voracious reader, I began my journey as a writer in 2023. Leaving corporate America behind to open doors to creativity was intimidating at first, but I’ve found nothing but loving connection with the reader community who enjoy my work. I’d planned to build a following for my Bren’s Buzz and Bren’s Booty publications, at Bren’s Buzz | Substack, before publishing books but fate had other things in mind. Collaboration has become the largest and most enjoyable part of my writing experience.

To date, I’ve published one short treatise on Amazon, What I Want https://a.co/d/05PJUCgL and also had a story included in a larger horror anthology by Alexander Semenyuk, Beyond Stories 2 https://a.co/d/01sln4ZH. I’m currently compiling a children’s book for the first time with my dragon stories and illustrations and poetry from some close friends. It’s truly a cooperative labor of love. Known for brazenly pushing the envelope, I’m pursuing the possibility of self-publishing this book and doing a pre-launch that gives local shops in my rural Pennsylvania area exclusive access for the first 90 days.

As determined as I am to make funny popular again, I’m equally dedicated to building a physical community through letter and postcard writing. Using art by some of my favorites and my own nature photography, I’ve collaborated again to create a tangible outreach to friends and family in need of a happy, hopeful hello. I look forward to full retirement next year when I’ll have time for more experimentation. In any case, at age 61 I’m just getting started!

TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS: THE SEVEN QUESTIONS

Question 1:

If someone walked into a room and your life’s soundtrack was playing, what would it be? Why are those tracks special?

The soundtrack to my life would be like a variety music festival. I was raised on country, rockabilly, and crooners. My dad liked country, like Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Charlie Rich, Charlie Pride, and Willie Nelson – the classics – plus rockabilly like Johnny Horton. My mom loved some of the more edgy stuff, like The Surfaris - Wipe Out and Nancy Sinatra’s These Boots are Made for Walking. Sometimes we lived with our grandparents and aunt and they were more inclined to the big band, Lawrence Welk show classics like Moon River and all the older stage classics like Bing Crosby and Bob Hope. My aunt’s favorite was John Denver. During high school the influence from my older sisters and our neighborhood friends was mostly rock and classic rock – Nazareth, Cars, AC DC, Eagles, and yet also Roy Orbison and Grass Roots. Albums we wore out on the turntable were Nazareth Hair of the Dog, AC DC Back in Black, and Cars Candy-O. But when I got my own money, it was Pat Benatar I bought. I have too many favorites to list but Hit Me with Your Best Shot was my favorite by Pat Benatar, and Crazy by Patsy Cline, and Sorry and Rocking Around the Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee. Other adult favorites of mine are Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World and Nat King Cole’s L-O-V-E. But my husband considers I Was Made for Loving You, by Kiss, to be our song. What makes all of these choices a special part of me (I still know every word), are the memories attached to them.

Question 2:

Is there something you never finished, and does it still haunt you?

Because I have many interests there’ve been many ideas that haven’t come to fruition over the years. The ones that haunt me are those that get to my heart – things like taking my sons certain places we’ve not yet made it to. Or, making a scrap book of their childhood. Or, planning a fishing trip out west for/with my husband. Fortunately, there’s still time to enjoy these experiences. As far as projects go, I’d say some of my larger, more collaborative writing projects are haunting me. I have a ‘gallery wall’ series planned that will even be advertised as a guest post on some larger Substack sites. And, as you know, the dragon children’s book is in the works and running about nine months behind my original plans. Both of these will be finished yet this year, so outside of writing I have the scanning and archiving of all my extended family’s photos on my personal project list for when I’m retired. It’s a massive project I’ve promised for a while and the time has come to deliver. Maybe we’ll have a big party when we check that one off.

Question 3:

Did you ever have a crush on someone who ended up in your work? Would they know it was them, and do you care?

I had my first crush and first kiss in kindergarten, but my days of crushing on people are long gone since my husband and I met and joined forces 43 years ago in high school. The male characters in my fiction writing thus far have been based on my husband and I’ve written a few odes to him, as the representative best man I’ve ever met. I have some friends who are fans of all the odes and want me to write a novel based on our love story. I guess we might call those ‘pre-orders’? In any case, my gushing made him a little itchy behind the collar at first, but he takes it all in stride now understanding that as my main squeeze he has a responsibility to occasionally be the hero in my tales.

Question 4:

Do you have an absolutely pointless talent you are extremely proud of?

I’m not sure if this counts but my son tells me I have perfect pitch. From fourth grade music, when I began learning to play the saxophone, I’ve been able to play by ear and played in the school band for years. I also spent a year in chorus but I don’t know about singing in perfect pitch. If I did, it would surely be hidden under a bushel because I’m not a singer or a musician. I do have a memory for musical scores, remembering all the music and words long after hearing them. In our family, I’m the ‘music memory’ and my husband is the ‘movie memory’. Like some of your other interviewees I have ‘learn to play an instrument’ on my list. In my case, I want to play my husband’s grandfather’s banjo, which he inherited several years ago.

Question 5:

What are you reading, listening to, and watching that you absolutely adore?

I’m reading Waters of Life by Tom Bowser, about the successful reintroduction of beavers to Scottland https://a.co/d/08esfJrz. I’m reading it because I’m part of my first EVER book club organized by Melissa @ Notes from Nature | Substack. I’m loving it so far, 5 stars from me. For music, I’m listening to my local morning radio station. I do some listening and dancing around on many mornings while I prepare for the day ahead. The morning DJ is local, he’s funny, and he loves his listeners. He’s a bit of a fixture here in central Pennsylvania. They play 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s so it’s right up my alley. I don’t care for ‘digital’ music, finding more acoustic arrangements more natural, so I’m resorting to the old CD collection to play in our ancient, non-digital, 2008 Hyundai Santa Fe which is my current ride. When it comes to watching, I’m a sucker for favorites. When the world is teetering on its axis, I find comfort in the familiar. So, we’re watching our way through the final few seasons of Father Brown, which we missed at original release. Shakespeare and Hathaway is the next series for us, but of late we’re also watching movies once a week or so. I miss the theatre on opening night so we try to recreate that experience with our big screen TV, popcorn, treats, and newer releases like Project Hail Mary, which I loved but hubby kept figuring out was going to happen next – irritating lol. Next up in movies is Remarkably Bright Creatures, which has been recommended to me by several people now.

Question 6:

What are you still waiting for?

I’m waiting for our dream farm. We relocated back home to central PA after the pandemic. Hubby’s parents are getting on in age so we wanted to be close by. That was 5 years ago and we’ve still not found what we’re looking for. We’ll know it when we see it but it’s disheartening sometimes because we are sort of 5 years into ‘temporary housing’. We all know the drill. We’re not going to add, remove, change anything because we’re not staying in this house. I’m over it, lol. In any case, we’re both believers that sometimes things are beyond our control so we watch and wait, sometimes impatiently. Meanwhile, we’re building lots of character while enjoying being back in the bosom of extended family.

Question 7:

Is there a question I haven’t asked you that you’d like to answer, or something you’d like to talk about? This is your opportunity to be bold and to brag, so don’t hold back!

Two things come to mind. One, what makes my day? And two, what keeps me up at night?

What makes me happy, makes my day, is being outside in nature. It’s become a passion of mine that happens to contribute to overall well being through exercise, sunshine, and meditation on subjects of my nature photography. It’s also become a very large part of my writing, resulting in some of my readers’ favorite posts. Besides making something new with my hands, or lounging with a movie on the couch with hubby, hiking in nature is my favorite place to be.

What keeps me up at night is wondering how and if and when my sons will make their way. All the transitioning to adulthood seems to move a slightly slower pace now than it did for Gen X. When I look at them, I hope to see them partnered up, maybe with children, at some point while I’m on this plane. They both have amazing minds and an inherent kindness that is uncommon in the brash world we experience today. What I’m most proud of about them is they have their own thoughts and plans and opinions that won’t be easily swayed. They are not vulnerable to manipulation. Each has visions of where they are headed, but they’re getting there in different ways. Over the last 2 years or so, I’ve finally simmered down and accepted that they must walk those paths themselves, without me as a tour guide. It’s the hardest job loss I’ve ever had.

I want to thank you for thinking of me for ‘Tea with my famous friends’. It’s a lovely series. I hadn’t considered myself to be famous, but nevertheless was overjoyed to be included with such a wonderful group of writers.

Hey, Cori, I’m a “music memory”, too! I’m just like a jukebox - although mostly for music from the 70s, 80s and 90s. I never could remember my times tables, but I know a gazillion song lyrics!

I loved Cori’s answers and I hope you did too.

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With love and gratitude,

Francesca xx

PREVIOUSLY ON TEA WITH MY FAMOUS FRIENDS

This is Serendipity, the bird that came from a tea stain.

Coming March 2027 from Empress Editions

Illicit Croissants at Dawn: available from Amazon

PS: I love ’s podcast, The Shift, and this episode with war correspondent Lyse Doucet is exceptional.

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Dear friends,

Today’s guest on Tea With My Famous Friends is the fabulous Mary Tabor whom I first came across on Alisa Kennedy-Jones’ The Empress Substack. Alisa had interviewed Mary and I remember being floored by this wise, articulate and stunningly beautiful woman. My next thought, once I’d picked myself up off the parquet, was holy crap, I’m on Alisa’s Substack next week, answering exactly the same questions as Mary, and I’m going to look like a bargain basement nincompoop (I’ve used nincompoop twice today, so it’s clearly my mot du jour - oh, yes, I speak French, je suis bilingue, so at least there’s that…)!

Anyway, of course Mary is absolutely lovely, super kind and supportive and not the least bit intimidating. I really hope that we get to meet in person one day!

As I’ve mentioned before, I started this series to connect the wonderful people I’ve met on Substack with other people they may not know. During the years when I was housebound due to illness, this platform became my daily refuge, a place where I reconnected with my creativity, and felt supported and encouraged by other people from all over the world. I see so many of you on here regularly, which is why you have all become famous to me.

And I really really love that.

Here is Mary’s biography, in a nutshell:

Long time author and teacher. Loves a challenge. Trying to learn flute and watercolor. Struggling with vibrato and blooms. Not what you expect when she writes! See her website for more.

And now for the Seven Questions I always ask my famous friends.

Question 1:

If someone walked into a room and your life’s soundtrack was playing, what would it be? Why are those tracks special?

“Who by Fire” by Leonard Cohen and this Spotify playlist: a song for every chapter of the novel published by Empress. Being seen by , who read the novel Who by Fire when I serialized it, has made me believe writing from the heart matters.

Question 2:

Is there something you never finished, and does it still haunt you?

Not to be a downer, but here goes: When my son Ben died at age 46—see Lifeboat—I was writing the novel Dangerous Love. His death stopped me because grief has its own timetable—back to it now—and you’ve helped by asking for this interview!

Question 3:

Did you ever have a crush on someone who ended up in your work? Would they know it was them, and do you care?

When my husband said oh, so Greta Garbo, “I need to live alone,” we separated, and I crazily dated (Internet sites), wrote about them all in (Re)Making Love. One man’s kiss rocked my world, but it turned out he was married. “He’ll never leave his wife” – one of the lines from When Harry Met Sally. I suspect he knows, and when I said, “no way,” he said, “Maybe Love in the Time of Cholera.” I do care—but am more sure of what the memoir, I hope, proves: Love is the answer. Now, what is the question?

Question 4:

Do you have an absolutely pointless talent you are extremely proud of?

Watercolors. Talent-wise, I’ll never be great. I’ve attached one that I love.

Question 5:

What are you reading, listening to, and watching that you absolutely adore?

I’m rereading Nabokov’s Ada because, for a reason I don’t understand, it appears to be a way back into Dangerous Love: well over 60,000 words, edited, lots more to come. I listen endlessly to my love playing the Schubert Impromptu in G flat, Op. 90, No. 3 on his baby grand piano—with me weepy every time. I’m watching Sugar with Colin Farrell and The Bear that I binged both seasons—the latter: best written TV show since The Sopranos and then, for sure, The Pitt too (also binged).

Question 6:

What are you still waiting for?

Dangerous Love, pray that I finish it; sorta kidding about prayer, Francesca, love!

Question 7:

Is there a question I haven’t asked you that you’d like to answer, or something you’d like to talk about? This is your opportunity to be bold and to brag, so don’t hold back!

I wished you’d asked me two final questions! What’s your greatest skill, boasting here. And: What is the best thing you ever did? Here are my answers:

1. I super duper know how to teach the so-called unteachable: Creative Writing.

2. I raised two children. What does that mean, “raised”? Did I pull them up by their fingertips until one towered over my head and the other’s soft breasts pressed against my own? No, I encircled them with my thoughts, my emotions, my own search for what is good, ethical and moral in existence. I watched them break out of my circle, debating me as they went. As they left, the debate continued in my head. The scribblings in my notebook intensified. My confusion increased. With the time their exit provided, I began to write more seriously than before, pages that turned into stories.

Mary’s website ❤️

Thank you, Mary, for agreeing to be a guest on my Substack. The paragraph you finished with, when you wrote about raising two children, gave me goosebumps. When we left our daughter at university in Cornwall so many years ago, driving away while she stood there waving, watching us go, ripped my heart out. I cried all the way to Paris. And when my son went to university, also in the UK, I remember pushing my trolley around the shopping centre, with not a clue how to feed a household now made up of just my husband and me.

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I hope you enjoyed this interview as much as I did. Do go searching for Mary’s books; we are on this planet to help and support each other in every way we can.

With love and gratitude,

Francesca xx

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Dear friends,

The rabbit hole I am lately exploring is cool. Partly because we have air-conditioning here in Spain (it’s forbidden in private houses in Switzerland), and since outside it’s about 40 degrees and mega humid, hanging out in a rabbit hole is really nice. My burrow is super colourful too, and I do so love colourful places, people and clothes, although these days it’s almost too hot for clothes. I got very excited first thing this morning when I woke up to an overcast sky for the first time in what feels like years, and even more excited when it started to rain while I was swimming – might I actually be able to put on a pretty dress?! – but after seven raindrops the sun came roaring back and bullied away the grey trespassers, so we’re back to aircon and minimal clothing.

And rabbit holes.

You see, I’ve discovered AI animation. Before anyone gets their knickers in a twist because OMG AI, let me just say that I only just discovered it about a week ago, and I haven’t a clue what I’m doing, but I’m doing it anyway because it makes me happy. I get all excited when Kling finally understands what I meant in my prompt and delivers a visual close enough to the one I had in my head. Of course, my husband thinks I’m hilarious, that it’s yet another of my sudden fixations, and that it will definitely pass before someone from Pixar headhunts me after having seen the animated cover I made for Just Like A Movie. Even if Gemma does have three arms if you watch with pursed lips and a disapproving frown. My handle is For Fun and Then Some for good reason; I’m forever curious about how to create new things.

Yesterday’s rabbit hole shoved me deep, deep down and into all sorts of interconnecting burrows involving different platforms, because when you have an idea for something you can be sure that it can’t possibly be made with only one platform. I clicked and swore and copy-pasted and tried and tried over and over, and when I thought I’d finally twigged it many hours later, the voice sounded all wrong!

Oh well, I thought, and went for a swim. 😎

Practice makes perfect, right? And while I’m fiddling with technology, I’m not buying clothes, or pens, or notebooks… although some animations definitely get mega greedy on credit.

Speaking of new things, I’ve just signed up for a course in October by Valeria Pazosf, an Italian artist that a friend turned me onto on Instagram. Valeria animates her drawings and collages, and her work is filled with magic and whimsy and I’m besotted.

I suppose you can animate anything now; yesterday I got a kick out of having the birds and butterflies on the cover of my poetry book, Illicit Croissants at Dawn, flap their wings, and it felt like a mini sprinkle of magic. It made me happy, although I wish I could have made the tiny frog hop… Today’s goal?

(Illicit Croissants at Dawn)

Which reminds me that the other night I animated the cover of Beth Lisogorsky’s romcom! ’s book is out in February, and you can – and please, please do! – preorder it here. Please preorder it even if romcoms are not your cup of tea, because there will definitely be someone around you who will love it, and preorders are so, so important. Here is Beth’s animated cover:

Back to my own looping the loop: over the last year I’ve dabbled with Canva templates and already thought that was mega cool, but now that I’ve discovered Kling, my imagination is off to lunch with George Lucas! My daughter, Olivia, thinks I’m doing exactly that (kind of like the plane on Beth’s cover!), but I just think I’m clever. She wasn’t altogether wrong though because it turns out I’m not clever enough to change some of the photos on my website, despite having made my little Empress logo – developed from my little Empress tea-stain painting – blink and smile. As it turned out, it took her forever to set my website right, so clearly I’m not the last of the nincompoops (love that word!).

We can do hard things at any age. We just need to stay curious, open-minded and creative. I doubt I’ll be coding (like I even know what that means…) but never say never.

Have a good weekend,

Lots of love,

Francesca

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Dear friends,

Sometimes I don’t want a book to end, so I find ways to make it last a long time. Kind of like when you eat a Bounty bar, and the coconut bits stay in your mouth, giving you long-lasting pleasure! ’s Dolly All The Time has been the best Bounty bar ever!

I’m pretty sure that Annabel is my favourite contemporary romance writer. If you like the idea of fake dating, an old and crumbling family house, and a hero who is incapable of changing a tire, but who turns out to have plenty of other delightful skills, this book is for you.

I initially enjoyed it on Audible. It’s beautifully read, with top notch production. The thing is, I usually listen to audiobooks at night, which inevitably leads to me falling asleep in the middle of a chapter, and then having to rewind the following evening. Trust me: I get so annoyed with myself for falling asleep while listening to books, because how would I like it if someone fell asleep while listening to my book?! In this book, was super certain of having missed all kinds of delicious details, so I enjoyed it all over again in paperback form, which didn’t in any way feel like overkill. Some delights work well on repeat, right?

Ooh, I loved the tension in the slow romantic build-up! I loved how competent Dolly was and I loved how Stewart gradually learned to let himself be touched, in love and in life. I loved Naomi, Dolly’s friend, and I loved Dolly’s son Gus.

Basically, I loved everything about this book, just as I loved Annabel’s debut, Nora Goes Off Script – though Nora might remain a smidgeon closer to my heart simply because the plot involves a “normal person” falling for someone famous, much like in my romantic comedy, Just Like A Movie.

Best of all is the knowledge that Annabel Monaghan has written several other books I can now enjoy. As much as I once loved Bounty Bars, the consumption of romance is much easier on my grumpy tummy.

Sending you love and delightful reads,

Francesca xx

PS: dabbling in animation, just for fun… see below!

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Illicit Croissants At Dawn: poetry

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