The only man in the room

Review: Maray, Liverpool

Bold Street is Liverpool’s foodie destination. The street throngs with crowds on even the quietest of evenings. Sounds and smells pour from the array of different cafes, restaurants, bars and takeaways as you walk past – offering a passing hint of what awaits, should you venture inside.

The problem with streets like this is that there are so many places, it’s hard to know where to choose. Which places are good and which set up shop here because they don’t have to try as hard?

This is where recommendations from trusted sources – like food-loving friends, come in so handy. They’re especially valuable when dining on your own. You don’t want to go somewhere that doesn’t welcome solo diners, nor somewhere so busy you look out-of-place. You can only really know whether you’re making a good choice if someone else guides you.

That is how I ended up in Maray on Tuesday evening. It’s a small, unassuming venue, and one which is more understated than some of the other venues on the street. That shouldn’t put you off. In fact, I consider it a positive, because it suggests the food will do the talking.

Boy did it do that.

The menu is small, but perfectly formed. LIke so many places now, it’s a small/sharing plate affair. But given its roots are Middle Eastern, this makes sense.

My waitress, Erin, offered me a warm welcome, bringing a carafe of water, before asking whether I’d like wine. She then ran through the options, and even brought me two different choices to sample. I settled on a North Macedonian red from the list of far-flung, Geographically-interesting options. She never stopped moving throughout the evening, offering warm, attentive service to everyone in sight.

Erin also offered some guidance on the menu – helping me settle on an appropriate number of plates and making sure I didn’t miss out on some of the must try options. Her advice was friendly and knowledgeable without being pushy, so I listened to it. And I am glad I did.

I was told to choose 2 to 3 plates (so that meant three). The disco cauliflower was recommended to me by two people before I visited, and then again by Erin. So that was a must.

In addition, I chose the griddled Salsa Macha lamb chop special and sides of pita – served with round, blackened spots of deliciousness and smoky baba ganoush. Those two together were every bit the taste sensation they sound.

The lamb chops might have been the star of the show, were it not for the cauliflower. That’s a sentence I wouldn’t have imagined writing, but yet, as I reflect on the meal, two days later, my view hasn’t changed. The lamb chops were charred, yet moist and served with a delicious sweet sauce, but the cauliflower was something else.

Half a head of cauli was presented to me topped with, and resting on, a series of Middle Eastern treats. If you ever need to make the case for vegetarianism, this could be the dish to do it.

The flavours pack a punch and the cauliflower is the perfect conduit for these, offering taste and texture, which comes from both blanching and roasting. It’s ideal for sharing, as you cut a floret and dip in Arabic deliciousness. Though even on my own, I managed most of this decadent devil.

I finished the meal with a flat white, while reflecting on the pleasure of solo dining – so long as it’s in the right location. Maray was just that.

There are two locations in Liverpool and another in Manchester.

There’s plenty on the menu I still need to try, so I plan to visit them all.

You should too.

REVIEW: Rise, York

Is brunch still the new breakfast? It certainly remains the most Instagrammable meal of the day.

Rise clearly understand this. They also recognise that a palette of pastels and pinks will only get you so far amongst the influencer crowd, if your menu doesn’t cut the mustard.

It’s an all-day brunch venue that often has crowds queuing down the street. That’s saying something given they are located opposite a large, warm and welcoming looking Cozy Club and are only a couple of doors down from what looks like another decent coffee and breakfast place.

The cold weather, post-Christmas lull, and imminent return to work and school, meant we managed to avoid this fate last Sunday morning, managing to grab a pew in this church of brunch.

While we didn’t worship, I did have a transcendental moment, when I tried the lucid green potato hash I was presented with.

But all good breakfasts start with coffee, and I am pleased to say their flat white game is strong. As is their freshly squeezed orange juice. Both told me my breakfast would not disappoint.

I plumped for their take on the breakfast bap. Their take means you get a sausage patty alongside your bacon and soft scrambled eggs. Chilli jam and cheddar complete things before they’re all squeezed into a warm, soft roll.

Charlotte tried their special of savoury french toast, which was a decadent combination of eggy brioche, glazed pancetta, poached eggs, garlic stuffed mushroom and mustard cream. If it sounds like too many flavours, you’d be wrong. If you think it sounds extreme, you’d be bang right.

Let the records note that glazed pancetta might be the best pork product available.

And what about the potato hash? The menu offers confit onions, parsley mayo and parmesan. And maybe that’s all there was in the dish along with the warm, skin-on new potatoes, but if that’s the case, then the magic really is in the sum of its parts. Sunshine in a bowl, as the phrase doesn’t go.

So that was Rise. A brunch venue like no other. Despite appearances. I apologise for ever doubting you as I crossed the threshold. For you are a sight and taste to behold.

Rise isn’t really a chain place, but the owners do have roots, and another couple of venues, in Preston.

REVIEW: Fish and Forest, York

Last Saturday evening, we visited the somewhat similar sounding Fish and Forest restaurant on Micklegate.

While the name is similar to Forage, this is where they end. Fish and Forest is a tiny, neighbourhood bistro. The exterior and interior are understated, and it is immediately clear that it is the food that’s going to do the talking.

Thankfully, the short, sparsely worded menu, gave a clear indication that this wasn’t going to be a problem.

Fish and Forest started out in York’s Spark – a collection of pop-up businesses housed in a collection of ISO freight containers on the site of a former warehouse.

LIke others before it, Fish and Forest has made the move from pop-up to bricks and mortar, and I am delighted to say they’ve done so with confidence.

Under head chef and owner Stephen Andrews, the bistro offers a small a la carte menu of fish and game. There are only four starters and as many main courses, which shows the confidence of Stephen in both his produce and his cooking.

Throughout our evening all seven tables were occupied, and customers came and went. Given it was early January, we considered this a good sign. We were right.

The size of the bistro means that Stephen and his team are located barely a few metres from your table. Here you can see a team working in harmony, with barely a raised voice or eyebrow on display all night.

Indeed, I asked our waitress about the playlist, given the music seemed to be personally selected for teenage me. She surprised me by saying that there was no list, but rather Stephen was queuing songs as he worked. He doesn’t have great taste, he has my taste. But how he found the time to do this, I have no idea.

The menu is presented to your table on a large blackboard. Presented, because the board is given a seat at your table, while the waiter expands on the options, helping you understand what you’re getting, how it’s served and how the flavours combine.

After a suitably comprehensive briefing and time to reflect, I plumped for the onion mille feuille. A dish which was described as being “all things onion.” How could I resist?

Charlotte swerved a starter, given we’d had thick slices of deliciously, sharp, homemade sourdough before we began the meal. I also had a fresh oyster, served simply with lemon and tabasco. Because why not.

For mains, we plumped for the coley, celeriac, green peppercorn and the venison, carrot and jus. Thankfully the meals weren’t as minimalist as their names.

The mille feuille was a feisty, fun starter that did exactly what it promised. Layers of onions, and layers of flavours were piled with aplomb. I was given the choice to try each layer individually, or mix them up. I went for the latter and it worked for me.

Our mains really did pack a punch. My thick piece of coley was presented in a sea of powerful green peppercorn sauce. At first glance, the celeriac was missing, but instead, it was presented below and beside the huge piece of perfectly cooked, flaky fish. Celeriac is one of my favourite vegetables, and here it tasted as good as I can remember. There was a rich, smooth puree and a delicious, crispy, melting bon bon. Combining these with the fish and sauce was a flavour combination that really works. The fish was topped with crispy carrots and they added texture and taste.

Charlotte’s venison was similarly well presented, and perfectly balanced. The meat was rich yet smooth, rare yet tender. It was served with a delicious jus, and carrots served a number of ways, including smoked – a way of cooking carrots I’d never considered but might now never forget.

We decided against side dishes and desserts, but the potatoes looked delicious and the desserts sounded special. How often do you spot a homemade rice pudding on a menu? Not nearly enough if you ask me.

Once again, the atmosphere, the service and the meal were all excellent. Fish and Forest is a great addition to Micklegate – located as it is, only a few doors away from York’s best restaurant, Skosh.

I’d highly recommend a visit. And given Stephen changes his menu daily, you’re guaranteed something interesting.

REVIEW: Forage, York

When you arrive at Forage in York, down one of the many cobbled lanes in the city centre, you’re greeted by a striking floral gateway.

From the entrance alone, you can tell it’s a restaurant that has been designed to appeal to a certain crowd.

Thankfully for me, the Instagrammable entrance and woodland vibe in the restaurant itself add to, rather than distract or even detract from, the experience.

We visited Forage on my birthday, last Friday in very early January. A time of the year that isn’t generally associated with great dining experiences. You tend to find the best restaurants are closed for some post-festivities recovery time. Those that are open might be going through the motions.

This wasn’t the case at Forage. Our experience started with a warm welcome (we were greeted by an enthusiastic dog, and staff equally as welcoming), followed by attentive service, and an interesting and inventive menu.

Like so many places, Forage offers small plates. They do so with minimal fuss and no more than a basic explanation of the concept. Two to three dishes per person was the guide, and we went for six between the two of us – it was my birthday after all.

We mixed the routine with some of the more interesting options – from padron peppers to their take on a doner kebab.

The former was one of the few that didn’t quite hit the mark. The peppers were served with a piquant sauce and crispy onions, but the peppers themselves lacked both the char and seasoning needed to elevate them from the humble green variety.

The kebab was at the over end of the spectrum, and clearly designed to answer the question, “what would a kebab be like if you made it some bloody good lamb?” The sauces were familiarly kebab-shop-esque, but the perfectly seasoned and spiced meat was from a very different place – perfect proportion of meat to crispy fat, and cooked to perfection. The dish was worth the entry flowers alone.

Our other dishes were nearer the lamb than the peppers. Fresh scallops with beautiful accompaniments; light and spongy bao bun filled with spiced duck; warm, generously topped flatbread.

The final highlight was grilled, crispy halloumi. This was cut thin, and as a result avoided the common pitfall of being overly dense. The crisp edges were topped with a delicious light, sharp dressing.

We decided against desserts, but I was surprised to receive a birthday plate of bite sized treats and meringues. It was a lovely touch that capped the meal perfectly.

It wasn’t a night for heavy drinking, but I had a decent sangiovese for eight and a half quid that suggested the wine list might be a winner too.

They’re currently running a January offer where you can get 20% off your bill when you book a table. When you took this into account, our meal was a very reasonable £55 plus tip.

We enjoyed our whole experience, and found the service a huge part of their charm. Our waiter Rafal was pleasant and attentive, without us feeling his shadow at our table. When we had a minor issue with the bill, it was handled efficiently and pleasantly. The aforementioned discount was added without fuss.

The venue also offers a “hidden” speakeasy bar. We wandered up after the meal and enjoyed freshly made cocktails. Again, the menu contained the conventional and some less well known options. Both our choices were well made. My negroni certainly hit the spot.

Forage aims to be the antithesis to identikit, chain venues, with its eco-conscious, sustainable menu and ethos under head chef Kieran Duffy. It is another business formed from a successful pop-up, which seems to be the best route into a challenging industry right now.

If our experience was anything to go by, they’re on to a winner.

Taking time to unplug

So, I’m home and back at work after Comms Unplugged. This was my third time attending this unique communications and wellbeing event.

As always, in the run up to Comms Unplugged, I found it quite hard to describe. I tend to default to calling it a communications festival. But this definition doesn’t quite work and leads to people assuming you’re drinking and dancing the whole time. If only.

It’s not quite a retreat either. While you do unplug – take a break from your social channels and work emails, there’s not a ban on electronic devices.

In actual fact, you can log CPD points with both the CIPR and PRCA for the event, which makes it more like training or a conference. But in a field.

Maybe, we’ll leave the badge to one side!

Once again, I soaked up my three days at Unplugged. I left it feeling relaxed and refreshed, benefitting from connections old and new, and having learned a new trick or two.

There are so many things to take away from Unplugged each year, but a couple of highlights for me this year were:

Lauren Castle’s session on being inspired by inclusion. As the name suggests, this session helped make inclusion a topic we should embrace not fear. Lauren set the scene brilliantly, and then introduced some fab activities to help us consider inclusion through a different lens.

I was particularly impressed by Lauren’s simple explanation of intersectionality. This is a word that people often find thorny and a topic which people consider gnarly. Lauren showed why this needn’t be the case.

Kevin McNamara, CEO of Great Western Hospitals NHS Trust, gave us a brilliant insight into the work of a CEO, and how communications can help aid this. We then considered how communications teams could support CEOs and how CEOs could help support their comms teams.

It was pleasing to see that the communicators and Kevin had a similar view. I found Kevin’s simple, clear style a breath of fresh air – fitting given we were in a tent in a field. His desire for clarity, calmness, credibility, consistency and a willingness to challenge made complete sense.

It was an insight to hear from Peter Fleming. He’s a former council leader of 18 years, until the 2023 local elections. He said some similar things to Kevin and helped us understand the role of a council leader.

If the above isn’t enough, then I’d add sunrise swims, great food and drink, mindfulness sessions and exploring the Dorset scenery to the list of things that make Comms Unplugged a must visit event for the communicator looking to expand their knowledge and broaden their horizons.

Hearing from your peers about their relatable issues and challenges is reassuring. And the advice to leave the things you can’t control and the issues weighing you down at the doorstep, is worth remembering. This time-poor human completely agrees.

Thanks to Sally Northeast, Georgia Turner and Darren Caveney for organising the event. Thanks also to the sponsors who make it affordable.

Pat

Pat and I, along with former colleagues Tim Capper and John Groves on a night out in Ravenglass, some years ago.

When Pat Graham retired from her role as Chief Executive Officer of Copeland Borough Council, through ill health, I wrote the following:

It’s a sad day knowing that Pat Graham’s time at Copeland Council has come to an end. I’ve known Pat for her whole career in West Cumbria (well not her time working in the Griffin in Frizington in her youth, but you get the point).

She’s been a colleague, an inspiration and a mentor. I consider her a great friend and she’s been a rock during some really tough times.

She’s one of the few people who has been able to deliver honest and challenging feedback to me in a way that’s helped me grow. I’m incredibly grateful for that – even if I didn’t know it at the time.

I am also proud of her commitment to West Cumbria and especially Copeland. This was blindingly obvious in every role she undertook and every project she led. The tributes in this article are absolutely genuine. Councillors, leaders and officers alike love and respect her.

Sending you and your family my warmest wishes Pat.

It’s sad to think that this was only 9 months ago, and Pat’s time with us has now been cut cruelly short.

When I reflect on the Pat I knew, the above is still an accurate summary.

She was a giant for West Cumbria and was passionate about getting the very best for the area where she was born. Like others, she felt we’d be sold short in the past. But more importantly, she thought that we needed to be positive, proactive and dynamic in seeking out the opportunities to improve things. We could be in charge of our destiny.

The first time I met Pat was in 2008. She was touring the Copeland Centre as part of her interview for the role of Head of Development Operations. She was heavily pregnant. It sums up Pat perfectly to know that she didn’t see her pregnancy as any barrier to being able to deliver. Nor did the interview panel, and she joined in the autumn.

It was the first of a number of senior roles, which ultimately led to her ascent to the position of Chief Executive Officer under the recently introduced directly elected mayor model. I am convinced she’d have been part of the leadership of Cumberland Council, had she been well enough. It’s both Copeland and Cumberland’s loss that this wasn’t possible.

Throughout her time, Pat was true to what she believed. She was always unflinchingly honest, and could give challenging feedback to anyone in a way that they were able to take this on board positively. She told me when she thought I’d blogged enough about the death of Tilly, suggesting (rightly), that it was time to consider sharing other thoughts. Not many people could have told me that.

Charlotte, Teddy and I recently visited Pat and her husband Kevin at home in Barnard Castle. I am glad we are able to do so. It was great to see Pat in such good spirits, despite being unwell. She was as chatty, witty and intelligent as always. Her grasp on West Cumbrian affairs was just as strong. She devoured the chocolate eclair I’d brought her, and it was a joy to see how she interacted with Teddy.

We had hoped to visit Pat again this summer, but sadly it wasn’t to be.

I’ll end by saying that the tributes that have been pouring in for Pat since the news of her death broke are a demonstration of her popularity. This isn’t always the case for council leaders who have to take tough decisions and require a thicker skin than most.

My thoughts remain with Kevin, Isaac, Indy and Romy; as well as her mum, brother and family here in West Cumbria.

Rest in peace Pat.

Five years

It’s five years since Tilly was born. Sadly that also means it is five years since we said goodbye.

Five feels like something of a milestone – half a decade. It’s a significant chunk of time. In that time, so many things in our lives have changed. We’ve moved house, we’ve welcomed Oscar into our family, we’ve brought Teddy into it, and both Charlotte and I have changed jobs.

But on 26 May, and the days preceding it, we’re transported back five years. Tilly is rarely far from my thoughts, but around this time, she’s a greater presence. Her image, ingrained in my memory, becomes stronger.

I changed jobs a little under a year ago. This means I am now working with people that didn’t know me when we lost Tilly. Yesterday I explained to some of them why today is special to me, and why I am off work. It was emotional, but I appreciated the opportunity to share our story and to ensure that Tilly’s memory lives on.

I also appreciated a new colleague and friend sharing his own story. That’s an important reminder that at some point or other, everyone is going through their own challenges.

However, I was surprised and a little saddened to realise that while I could remember the chapters of our story very clearly, some of the details escaped me. That’s when I thought of my blog and realised how glad I was to have recorded my memories of that strange time.

Charlotte has made a beautiful birthday cake for Tilly’s memory. Teddy was looking at it with excitement yesterday. Charlotte explained that it was for Tilly’s birthday. He knows that’s his big sister and that she’s not here. But yesterday was the first time that she told him that Tilly was dead. We don’t want her to be a mythical presence.

Teddy’s response? “Oh that’s sad, mummy. The cake will make her better and she’ll be able to blow out the candles.” It brought a tear to our eyes and a smile to our faces.

Today we’re going to find a pretty, quiet spot for a picnic and to light a candle on the cake. And either the wind or Teddy will blow the candle out.

As always, thanks so much to everyone who has shared kind words, birthday cards or even sent gifts. It means so much to know that we’re not the only ones who remember Tilly’s short time with us.

Goodbye Copeland

At midnight, after 49 years, Copeland Borough Council will cease to exist. In the grand scheme of things, it’s no age. But given a week is a long time in politics, it feels like a lifetime. It is a lifetime.

I started my career at Copeland Borough Council, back in 2003. I was a graduate trainee earning £12,720 per year (of course I remember, it was my first salaried job). My first pay cheque – received a week after starting, felt like an extraordinary amount of money given I’d been there a matter of days. I’d not found the coffee machine by that point – though I could smell the smoking room.

While I started as a graduate trainee, I quickly received a promotion to become the sole communications officer. This was a stroke of luck really – I sat opposite the incumbent and we shared a phone line. When she wasn’t there, I picked up the phone and as a result media enquiries.

I’ve always been pleasant yet inquisitive. So that meant some people preferred speaking to me than my phone line partner. So when they left, mid-local government restructuring, I was asked to fill the role temporarily. That temporary role led to a passion for, and career in, communications. During my ten years at Copeland, I moved from temporary communications officer, to communications officer, to interm senior communications officer, to senior communications officer, and finally communications manager – reporting directly to the chief executive.

It was an action-packed decade. I really did learn on the job, and experienced more in those years than many do in a lifetime. We had huge highs and the very lowest of lows. I won’t recount these here. Those who live in the area will know most of them, and those who don’t can Google. But they covered everything from events to crisis management, media relations to employee engagement, marketing to consultation, nuclear to housing, regen to museums. And bins.

What I will say is that those working in local government are, in my mind, heroes. I know lots of people won’t agree, but I saw people giving their all despite huge frustrations, working harder despite the challenges and setbacks. These range from the aforementioned (and endless) restructures to consistent efficiency drives (long before they were trendy). There was out- and in-sourcing, shared services, partnership working and many similarly inventively named initiatives that made job security a laughing matter.

On top of the lack of job security, local government staff are also subject to the attacks, criticism and politically motivated sniping from elected members. They’re also hard working and committed, but their pay masters are the electorate, and most think that scoring a political point and gaining a handful of votes is worth any negative HR related consequences.

And despite all this, despite the lower wages than the other big employer in the area, despite the political jibes, people stayed and gave their all.

Last week I joined my former colleagues for an evening to remember Copeland Council. Having left nine years ago, I assumed I’d know few people. How wrong I was. There were so many friendly (if battle scarred) faces. I saw colleagues who had risen from entry level roles to lead huge teams dealing with complex issues and friends managing services that were previously the responsibility of two or three people in different times.

Everyone had a smile on their face, and everyone was proud of their role in Copeland’s story.

No council is perfect. They do get things wrong. I’d suggest that these things are rarely the fault of officers. The policy is certainly never set by officers, but they bear the brunt if it’s unpopular or goes wrong.

So I know some people won’t mourn Copeland’s passing. They’ll smile at the thought that the organisation serving the southern part of West Cumbria is disappearing. I get that, but it was local. The collection of councillors serving the borough all cared about this coastal, rural and isolated patch of land. They wanted the best for its residents.

In the future, the borough will be part of a much larger council, covering the huge geographical area from the Scottish border down to the Duddon. Whatever, your views, it won’t be as local, even if it does save a few quid.

It’s time to say goodbye to Copeland, and hello, again, to Cumberland.

I’d like to wish all my friends and former colleagues working for any of the departing councils, good luck.

And finally, I’ll end the blog by dedicating it to colleagues we have lost in recent years. I can think of many that played a huge part in Copeland’s story. While you can’t see it, I’ve raised a glass to them all.

To the next 49.

Dear Teddy

Today is my 41st birthday. When you woke up, you ran through to me in the kitchen with my birthday card. It was a lovely one, featuring a dinosaur.

You were very excited for me to open it, even though I am not really sure you knew what it was for! You were also excited by the wrapping paper from my presents. I think you wondered why I had made so much mess.

After my presents, and once you were awake, I walked you to nursery. I enjoy doing that. I had to carry you on my shoulders because otherwise we just wouldn’t have made it on time. You like to dawdle. On the way, I pointed out a nursery classmate’s house. This led to you asking me who lived in every other house. I am afraid to say I didn’t always know the answer.

We’ve just had two full weeks together as I took a long Christmas break. I really enjoyed spending time together, and I think you did too. As it was Christmas, there was lots to entertain us, and lots of toys to play with. There was also lots of tidying up to do.

You spent most of the two weeks asking me for a ‘daddy cuddle’ or if I would come and play with your new toys, or even if I was tidying up. You even tried to help, in your own special way. This usually involved you passing me a piece of kitchen roll or tea towel.

We had a great time playing with your new toys. These included lots of cars. You also got a garage for emergency vehicles with a little toy radio. You loved speaking into this, announcing an emergency or fire and telling people not to walk on it [the fire]. Once you announced these things, you’d ask me to do the same. You also got a tool set, which you loved because you could use it to fix all your vehicles.

I know you won’t always want to spend this much time with me, so I’ll remember these last few weeks very fondly. I’ve written about them because you might not ever remember them.

It’s been a while since I last wrote you an email I must try harder. You’ve grown so much over the last 12 months. Your personality really has developed. You are now a very kind, caring and thoughtful child. You are very affectionate and are inquisitive. I also love how much your vocabulary has grown. To me it seems very advanced, but I am sure all parents say that.

Over the last year, you’ve developed your own language and are now even starting to grow out of that. It’s hard to believe.

Some of the lovely terms I remember are ‘alldaydo’ being your name for a bus, ‘nommies’ while rubbing your stomach for food, you like your night-time milk ‘cooked’, and still call Oscar ‘Eh-he’ even though you can say Oscar.

I like that you get Uncle Karl and Uncle Chris mixed up until you see them. Ella is Ellaboos to everyone now, thanks to your name for her.

We’re off out for a birthday meal this evening. I don’t think this is your favourite thing to do. You’d much rather explore than sit still in a high chair. But you will be happy you’re getting to see Charlie and Ellaboos, so it won’t be too bad.

Thanks for my birthday card and for being the most adorable, loving son I could ask for.

Yours, always,

Daddy x

Little things

Returning to work after Christmas can feel dark – literally and metaphorically.

If you’re in an office job like mine, you’ve hopefully had an extended break from the office and the routine that goes with it.

The fear, which starts when you realise you can’t remember your network password, what you were doing before the break, or even what you do for a living can be daunting.

At the same time, the Christmas spirit is departing, the decorations are coming down, and spring is a long way away. These can leave you feeling flat.

For these reasons, I wanted to blog about some of the little things that help boost my mental health. I’ll refer to this list on the darker/wetter days.

Exercise

Throughout the year, I try to do some decent exercise each day. This is usually in the form of a walk or bike ride. This stopped at Christmas, when the diary filled with other things that were more important, like eating trifle.

Yesterday, the rain disappeared for long enough to enjoy a good walk with Teddy and Oscar. Getting out of the house into the fresh air and sunshine made the day feel much better. I was more motivated when I got home to complete some of the other chores on my list.

I’ve now got the exercise bike back out for the new year and look forward to beating some records on it.

Escapism

I like to use the time I am exercising to listen to music or podcasts. This hour or so a day allows me to escape whatever else has occupied my mind and go somewhere else.

I’ve missed this at Christmas and am ready to pick up where I left off with my food, travel, comedy and history podcasts. I’ll intersperse these with my favourite Spotify playlists.

Family time

The best thing about Christmas wasn’t the food, drink or presents, but spending time with those family and friends I love.

I got to spend two quality weeks with Teddy for the first time since my paternity leave. We definitely grew closer because of this.

While I won’t have that time now I am back at work, I will make sure we have time every evening for cuddles and playing with his new toys. Like we did over the festive break.

Writing

I love writing. I love writing for work and I love writing for pleasure. I don’t always find the time to write. So, this year, I’ll be reminding myself how much joy it brings me and finding the time to do more writing.

That will include blogs which are in someway related to communications or the workplace.

But it’ll also include more of my food blogs and those on lighter subjects. Writing these makes me happy. They immediately lift my mood. If you’ve read them, you’ll see my tongue is often firmly in cheek as I write something preposterously, pompously pretentious about a bowl of soup or slice of pizza.

Reading

I read every night before bed, but too often, it’s a few snatched pages when I know I should already be asleep. I am going to try and go to bed just a few minutes earlier, so I can read a few more pages and make a bit more progress.

Doing this should also mean I can read more books and broaden what I read.

As I do most of my reading on my Kindle/the Kindle app, I should be able to see how successful I am.

A very small Teddy checking out what Daddy was reading.

Everything else

These are just a snapshot of the things I take pleasure from. Others include:

Seeing friends
Food – both dining out, cooking new things and baking bread
Pubs, real ale and craft beer
Exploring and traveling

A caveat

These are the small things that can help me on days I feel flat or don’t have energy. They won’t provide an answer to some of the bigger stresses in our lives. These feel increasingly real as we start 2023.

If you need support, please do seek this. Feel free to contact me for a chat.

What about you?

What boosts your mental health in the darker days? Do you have any tips?