Small Holiday Updates

Every week, she said. Without fail, she said.

Sorry everyone. Deadlines happened, and then I had to drive back to Germany, and then the clocks went forward by two hours and nearly turned me fully into the nocturnal half-vampire I have been trying not to become since 3 in the morning became my bedtime during the term.

It’s the holidays now, though, joy of joys … but sadly it is also the Easter holidays, which are not so much holiday as they are a period spent at home grumbling that your holiday has been repurposed as an extended revision session.

Miriam is embarking upon that great challenge of A Levels this year, with a place at Somewhere Most Prestigious to aim for – can I get some good luck wishes for her in the comments? – and I am scrabbling inanely at the revision for my two exams. Mine aren’t all that strenuous, this being the great ‘meh’ that is Freshers’ Year, but between them and all the activities that holidays require, I’m a little strapped for time, too.

One of these activities is, of course St Mallory’s 2. The draft is presently in my possession, and slowly gaining size. Emphasis on the slowly. But size it is gaining. Wheeeee!

The good news is, though I shall be absent for a few days impending, I shall be able to bring some nice things to the blog in return! These may include pictures, or more anecdotes, or just about anything you please.

Yes, I would like your opinion. What sort of thing would you guys like to see on the St Mallory’s blog? Leave a comment, and let us know!

In the meantime, I’d better get to my lunch. And try not to set it on fire like I did yesterday.

… You didn’t hear that last part.

~ Charley R

“Wild Child” – An Axe To Grind

It may not come as a surprise to many, but I have a seriously large bone to pick with films like Wild Child. An entire skeleton’s worth, in fact – it lives in the closet, sitting underneath the shelf that houses enough axes-to-be-ground to arm a large Viking raiding party and still leave some spare to prop open the doors on the way out.

ImageReleased in 2008, Wild Child did reasonably well at the box office – it currently sports a score of 6.0 on IMDB – though not well enough to leave much of a wake. The inclusion of Alex Pettyfer was about the most notable thing taken away by my dorm-mates, with whom I watched the film on a boring Sunday night in 2010.

To all intents and purposes, it’s a very typical sort of mainstream Hollywood outlet – spoiled teenage brat taken away from her standard environment to learn important life lessons / overcome challenges / acquire unrealistically attractive boyfriend in a kookily bizarre new environment.

It even comes with a tagline pun so hsameful they tried to hide it just above the credits. “A New Term for Trouble”? Dear oh dear oh dear.

Miriam told me she watched this film for research purposes before we got started on St Mallory’s Forever!, along with the new St Trinian’s film – which, fun fact, our publisher Mark hates in the same way most people hate Nickelback, or getting teeth pulled with pliers made of cacti – which is what got me thinking about it.

I’m not going to rag on about its inaccuracies (there aren’t enough hours in the world) or indulge my love of ripping apart trope-laden Hollywood output for my own glee. I can appreciate the demand for silly, fluffy films of this sort, and sometimes I can even enjoy them.

But what I’m not going to let it get away with is its lack of research. Oh yes, dear readers. This is going to be a post about research. Abandon hope all ye who enter here, don’t forget to wipe your feet on the way in, yadda yadda.

In order to create a polar opposite environment for Spoiled Protagonist Princess (also known as Poppy but that’s irrelevant), the film created an antithetical environment in the form of the boarding school. They did pretty well from the outset – I know at least three people who came from an “Abbey Mount”, and none of them from the same county – and conjuring up some strict teachers to act as barriers. The layout of the dorms, involvement of lacrosse, the fact that one of the staff actually had family living on campus, also were great elements that could be used to the plot’s advantage.

However … it was clear none of the producers or writers or cast members had ever set foot in a real boarding school. And they missed out on so many more things that could have made a mildly amusing chick-flick into an absolute gut-buster. I’ll break it down for you.

What They Did Have:

  • Pranks
  • The ramifications of sneaking out after lights out
  • The joys of raiding charity shops
  • An alarmingly accurate representation of how most people usually score goals in lacrosse.

All of these have their place, of course, but all were seriously underplayed in favour of harping on about the ‘untouchability’ of the Single Male Character Present Ergo Love Interest and the bitchiness of the stereotypical cardboard cut-out bully.

If one of the crew had decided to take a look at an actual school, here’s what they could have got from that list.

What They Might Have Had:

  • Hilariously awkward socials, involving bussing over a load of boys from a school up to twenty miles away just so the students get some socialisation.
  • Interplay and development between the characters, based on the extremely close friendships that can only be formed by sleeping in one room for the better part of a year.
  • More staff involvement – from matrons to groundskeepers to house staff. They’re people too, and they’re often the source of half he mischief we get into.
  • The joys of confronting an American student with Latin, Greek, or any of the other dead languages that tend to cause unsuspecting newcomers to stare at the page as if it’s going to try and eat them.
  • New girls’ rituals. Mine featured a cold shower, a musical number, and an everlasting mistrust of curtain rails.
  • Seasonal parties involving fancy dress. And trust me, we take our fancy dress very seriously.
  • Language mixups! If you thought coming from America to Britain was bad, add in a layer of bizarreness unique to antiquated bubbles of private education and you’ve got a recipe for hilarity.

Of course, this is very much a case of supposition rather than one tailored to Wild Child in particular. Nevertheless, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed that a film with as much potential as this one fell so flat on its face simply because a little more research was not put in to find the really juicy gems that might have saved it a real critical shredding. It’s not often Rotten Tomatoes produces something quite so scathing as: “This tween comedy mess falls flat on its face due to poor characters, poor direction and poor jokes.”

What about you, readers? If you’ve seen Wild Child, what did you make of it? And if you haven’t, what do you make of filmic research on the whole? Leave a comment, and let me know!

~ Charley R

Stranger Than Fiction: The Shed Story

At the end of Chapter 50 of St Mallory’s Forever!, there lurks an innocuous reference to just the sort of thing you’d expect to hear in a comic YA mystery set among the hi-jinx of an all-girls boarding school.

Someone got themselves locked in the gardening shed a couple of years back, and there was complete pandemonium until she turned up in the dining hall about an hour later.

Fun fact: that’s not an amusing comic interlude invented purely for a quick giggle and a pleasant sense of irony. It’s a true story.

One of mine, actually. And here’s how it happened.

Back in the Upper Fourth (Year 8 to all you ‘normal’ people out there), someone decided it would be a good idea to have one of our Latin lessons swapped out, bi-weekly, for an hour spent in the greenhouse out the back of the boarding houses. Why this decision was made – and why the first lessons began in the frostiest November since Jack Frost went on a year-long bender – I will never know.

I’ll confess here and now that I’m no great horticulturalist (read: wouldn’t know her geraniums from her marigolds on a good day), but the lessons themselves weren’t so bad. We never actually managed to grow anything, but it was nice to get outside and have a chance to talk about something other than the finer points of Ovid for an hour.

This particular debacle fell in about the fifth week of term. As was my wont, I had been relegated to digging bulbs out of what we hoped would become the tomato patch, and so was rather keen to rid myself of dirt and debris before heading off for lunch.

The sink in the greenhouse stood behind the door. Yes, there was a sink in the greenhouse. Yes, it was strange. Yes, it was bizarrely placed.

Yes, I blame the sink for everything.

Sorry, I digress. I was at the sink, washing my hands and contemplating the prospect of the lasagne waiting for me in the dining room. So engrossed was I in these mouth-watering fantasies, that I did not hear the fateful click. The click, that is, of a key exiting a lock.

By the time I turned back to the door, teacher and class both had vanished, and I was stuck.

What followed was a fairly bizarre thirty minute interlude of jumping up and down in the middle of the greenhouse (hoping to get the attention of the lunchgoers through the window in the boarding house beside the gardening patch), searching in vain for something to use as a lock pick, using anything I could find in the hopes it would make a decent lock pick, discovering that trying to take the lock apart with a screwdriver was no more useful than the previous strategy … and charging the door with a pitchfork.

The last option came to me purely in the hopes that the sound would carry to the grounds staff clipping the hedges off the main road. It didn’t work, but it made me feel a lot better. From what I can tell, the marks were still in the door until the greenhouse was taken down last year.

In the end, I resorted to James Bonding it out of a window – a highly inelegant process, given that I was fairly tall for a 12-year-old and the window was not designed with escape attempts in mind.

The best part of the story? There had not been any debacle whatsoever over my disappearance. On the contrary, no one had even noticed I had gone. I’d been ticked off on the lunch register on the assumption I’d gone to wash my hands – oh the irony – and no one had thought to wonder why the dining room was so oddly quiet.

Suffice to say it was a bit of a surprise for all involved when I came talking in an hour later and declared to the room at large: “I’ve been locked in the garden shed for forty five minutes!”

I did not notice the innaccuracy of my measurement of time. What I did notice, just a moment too late, was that there were three people sitting at my housemistress’ side at the main table. Two parents, and an eight-year-old prospective student.

The fact that I was taken out of the room and sternly told off for upsetting the guests seems reasonable, but I was still rather indignant about it. It wasn’t exactly my fault, after all.

Suffice to say, it was no great surprise to anyone that these gardening lessons were discontinued at the end of that year.

Curse that conniving sink.

* * *

Well, what do you make of that, readers? Reckon any of your stories, from school days or otherwise, can match up to the strangeness factor of The Great Shed Debacle?

There are, of course, plenty more little easter eggs just like this one lurking behind many a line of St Mall’s. Reckon you can spot any more? Suggest them in the comments, and I might just make a little series out of them. Or I might just do that anyway, because I think they’re funny.

~ Charley R

Exe-tra, Exe-tra, Read All About It!

I should probably be taken out and stoned for that awful title, but I wasn’t about to let Miriam have all the fun with puns. I regret nothing!

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We’ve had success with promotion across a great many boards – including BBC Radio Interviews, spots on innumerable blogs, and even a feature in Ebook Bargains UK. Still, there’s nothing quite like seeing yourself plastered over a full-page spread in a proper newspaper, is there?

This is, of course, my university newspaper – which you’ve got to get hold of very fast, lest they all vanish from their bins before you can get your grubby paws on one. What’s even better is that they’re free, meaning a curious student with an hour to kill between lectures is far more likely to pick it up, rather than spending their scant money filling their ever-growling belly (speaking from experience, this happens more than you’d think).

If you’d like to read the article – which includes ramblings about the process of co-authoring, organisation, and an explanation of mine and Miriam’s love-hate-eternal-torment draft-swapping lives, you can read it in the transcript HERE!

Until next week, my friends!

~ Charley R

On The Origins Of Tim

‘St Mallory’s Forever!’ Trivia: Episode 1 ~ In which Miriam takes you ‘behind the scenes’ for some trivia and amusing information about book one.

Warning: this post may include mild spoilers for St Mallory’s Forever! for those who haven’t yet read/finished it.

If you’ve read the reviews of St Mall’s that have been left on Amazon and Goodreads (some are excerpted on the “St Mallory’s Forever page and in the right-hand sidebar of this blog, which I redesigned because I was procrastinating on writing a Classics essay last week. Which, for the record, is also what I’m doing right now), you’ll see that a lot of people have commented on our use of geek culture etc throughout the story. It’s true – there are overt references to Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Star Trek, among other things. There are also covert ones, and most of them relate to Tim Morrigan.

I’m responsible for naming him. This wasn’t a deliberate decision – we didn’t sit down and say, “Hey, Miriam, do you want to invent the antagonist of book one?” (Collaboration over distance means I don’t think we ever ‘sat down’ and discussed anything, although Charley and I did meet up in the summer and we talked about book two then.) I don’t even remember if he was originally meant to play the role he played: I think we had some inkling that he’d be a significant ‘baddie’, but nothing concrete.

So his introduction happened to fall in a chapter that I wrote, which meant I needed to name him. He’s introduced to us as Tim Morrigan, but as those who have read the book will know, he is also known as Ben Phillips. For the benefit of those who haven’t, or haven’t yet got that far, I won’t go into the details of how that came to be – simply why those names were chosen in the first place.

And it’s at this point that I display what a total nerd I am, since his name is actually a threefold joke.

Joke one: it’s a play on Jim Moriarty.

With all the Sherlock references that went into St Mall’s and the fact that we wrote it at a time when I was working my way through all the Sherlock Holmes books, it seemed like a good plan for the bad guy to evoke the idea of Moriarty. I went with the BBC Sherlock “Jim” instead of “James”, though, and that’s where Tim came from. “Morrigan”, on the other hand, has a similar phonetic structure to “Moriarty” and is also an Irish word.

Joke two: it’s a reference to the Morrigan.

The Morrigan is one part of the Irish triple goddess of war, death, destruction etc. She’s a shape-changer, which is fitting for a devious and mischievous character. She’s associated with general misery, and interacts with the hero Cu Chulainn. Some theories associate her with the Welsh Morgan le Fay, though they don’t have a lot in common, even taking the French ‘Vulgate Cycle’ of Arthurian legends into account.

… I think my nerd is showing. I recently wrote a research project about women in mythology, so I was examining that particular comparison. Don’t worry if that went straight over your heads.

Basically, the Morrigan is a troublemaker, a shapechanger, and a nasty piece of work.

Joke three: it’s another Sherlock reference.

You know we were talking about BBC Sherlock? Well, that means Benedict Cumberbatch is involved. And you see, his full name is Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch, which meant that Tim/Timothy was easily paired with Ben/Benedict. He references his older sister as a factor in the name choice, and given that she’s probably about the age of most Sherlock fangirls, it makes perfect sense that she would have done that deliberately.

I mean, I’m neither confirming nor denying that she did, or that she even likes Sherlock. But it’s a possibility, isn’t it? (The answer is right there in the book, if you’re looking for it. I was wondering if the others would notice.)

Okay, but what about Phillips?

I don’t remember where the Phillips came from. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t motivated by a desire to include the dreadful amazing pun in the title of chapter 64 (or 65 if we ever fix the fact there are two chapter 12s in that edition, hee hee): “IT’S PHILLIPS, TIM, BUT NOT AS WE KNOW IT.” Being, of course, an extra-nerdy joke on the Star Trek quote, “It’s Physics, Jim, but not as we know it.”

Like I said, pretty sure that wasn’t the motivation – just a result that I was very pleased with. I remember sending Charley that chapter and babbling incoherently about the title because I was unbelievably proud of myself, despite knowing that 90% of people wouldn’t even pick up on my genius.

She appreciated it, though.

It might have been that it went well with Morrigan, because it does. It might have been an entirely random name plucked from the ether. Possibly I was looking at my bookshelves and saw the Mortal Engines quartet by Philip Reeve – I have a habit of naming characters after authors. Helen and her mother both owe their surname to Jonathan Stroud, as it seemed appropriate and fit well with both their names, and it’s probably just as well nobody else’s surnames were left up to me or we’d have an entire library of them.

Notably, Philip Reeve and Jonathan Stroud used to be on the same bookshelf which was opposite my desk, although it’s now moved, and I think they were named at about the same time, so I’m going to assume that’s the reason. It’s not quite as entertaining as the rest of his name, but hey, we got four jokes out of it and that’s fairly good going for a single character.

This has been St Mallory’s Forever! trivia. Next time, I’ll probably be talking about Helen, unless there’s anything else you want to know – in which case, please feel free to leave comments!

Charley, In Short

Would you look at that! Not only does Miriam manage to regenerate the blog’s theme, earn us five more followers – hello lovely people! – but she also manages to do it with a magnificent pun in the title!

Well then. I suppose I’d better follow her illustrious example and reintroduce myself, for the benefit of you awesome people who might have forgotten exactly who this strange human is that’s been gabbling at you through the interwebs for the past two weeks.

So… who the blazes are you?

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Here I am in 2012! Looking relatively sane in a picture for once.

I’m Charley Robson; student, geek, sausage enthusiast, and author.

I’m the middle installment of the St Mallory’s arrangement, and currently halfway through my first year as an undergraduate of BA English at Exeter University. I’d make a joke about selling my soul to the government to pay off my student fees… but I’m pretty sure I never had one. A soul, that is. More on that later.

What are you doing here?

As the content of my previous posts has likely made obvious, I’m the member of this triumvirate who actually attended a boarding school. Like St Mallory’s, it was a small, single-sex establishment lurking in the idyllic English countryside, and absolutely chock-full of all the charmingly bizarre things you expect of such a place.

Little known fact: my history in education is more akin to Xuan’s than anyone else’s. The boarding school where I concluded my education was the last in a long succession of educational establishments – at least nine, at the last count – attended by myself as I tumbled in and out of cardboard boxes, following my father’s peripatetic job with the Forces.

Wait … go back to the bit about the soul? That’s to do with writing, isn’t it?

Oddly enough, it is. Though I can’t claim quite the same level of productivity as Miriam when it comes to my own work, what books I have managed to write, despite their wild variations in genre, theme and quality, have all been in unified in revealing that I have a marvellous predilection for cold-hearted murder. And wanton destruction. Sometimes at the same time.

I read pretty voraciously, both prose and poetry, and so my taste in authors is extremely varied; from J.R.R. Tolkien to Terry Pratchett, and Lord Byron and the Romantics to Shakespeare and back again, with a detour via Cicero and Scott Lynch if you fancy stopping for a coffee. I’m a great believer in reading, at least partially, as a form of escaping the dull and difficult fish bowl of reality for somewhere much more exciting and/or deadly. Preferably both.

As a result, I would call the majority of my non-St-Mallory’s projects ‘fantasy’, some of a more traditional sort than others. Mostly, though, I aim for interesting characters, engrossingly complex plots, shameless escapism, and making Miriam cry. Don’t feel sorry for her. She does exactly the same thing to me.

Okay … so what else do you do, when not writing?

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A more recent picture, from November last year. There are an alarming number of pictures of me with silly things on my head.

Unlike Miriam, I have the musical talent of a particularly dim pigeon – but that didn’t stop me taking to the stage, playing nought but villainous nasties and nasty villains since about the age of nine.

I did, admittedly, take singing lessons for a year, but despite having a top range that makes Alvin and the Chipmunks sound like deep-throated baritones, I’ve got nothing on Freddie Mercury.

Beyond that, I’m usually found indulging my not-so-inner voracious geek. You know you’re a proper geek when you’re on the committee for the Tolkien society, helping to arrange a trip to Rivendell (or the real-life inspiration for it, anyway). I’m also a fan of Doctor Who, Game of Thrones (yes, I’ve read the books. Yes, it gets worse.), Merlin, or just about anything that will present me with some nice historical weapons to drool over.

I have a thing for catapults. Don’t judge me.

Of course, when I’m not feeling up to braving the terrors of the wet and windy outside world, you will probably find me lurking about on…
- My Blog
- My Facebook Page
- My YouTube channel

That’s all from me this week! I’ll be back again in the near future – stay tuned!

~ Charley R

A Joyful Return

Charley’s been great at regenerating the blog with a few new posts over the past fortnight or so, but I’ve been conspicuously and embarrassingly absent — especially as it was my idea to start blogging more often! I’m very sorry about that.

It occurred to me that we’ve been absent for a long time, and it’s reached a point where the ‘author bio’ at the back of St Mallory’s Forever! is probably outdated and incomplete, so unless you know us from elsewhere or read our personal blogs, you’ll know very little about Charley and me as people. Therefore we thought we’d reintroduce ourselves and our interests.

A vaguely sensible picture of me -- this has got to be a first!

A vaguely sensible picture of me — this has got to be a first!

Who are you?

My name is Miriam Joy and I’m eighteen years old. I’m the youngest member of the St Mallory’s writing team, although even I’m a legal adult now, which is mildly hilarious. I’m a writer, student, dancer, musician, blogger, feminist, tea-drinker, and huge fan of puns. Seriously. The title of this post should have given that away.

The St Mallory’s series is set in a school. What’s your education background?

I go to a state school, a grammar school in South-East London, where I’m studying for my A-Levels, and I take English Literature, Classical Civilisations, French and Music. Don’t let anybody tell you that Music is easy: it’s certainly the hardest subject I chose to take, and I regret it on a daily basis. With any luck, I’ll be studying at the University of Cambridge from October, although of course I have to get the grades in my exams this summer for that to be possible!

Which of your hobbies contributed most to the book?

I’m the musical one of the group, so those who’ve read St Mallory’s Forever! will be able to guess that I contributed a lot to Helen’s chapters, particularly where there’s anything technical going on. I had to teach Charley that violin strings aren’t made of plastic, for example, and I regularly mock her when she sends me chapters that display her ‘musical illiteracy’, as she calls it. I leave the lacrosse side of things to her – and indeed anything about boarding school.

Mind you, I'm quite short, which might not help.

Mind you, I’m quite short, which might not help.

I used to play the violin, flute and piccolo, but unfortunately strained my wrists badly last year and haven’t been able to play since July, forcing me to abandon the violin two weeks before I was due to take my grade eight exam. Such is life. In order not to fail the performance unit of A-Level music, I recently took up singing, and I’ve also just started playing the Celtic lever harp, because why play a small instrument like the piccolo when you can play something that goes up to your shoulder?

Actually, my passion as far as music is concerned lies in folk music, so while I’ve got enough orchestral experience to last me a lifetime and I can write the Classical side without too much difficulty, I much prefer playing traditional folk tunes. I play the tin whistle, too, but I don’t tend to count that among my accomplishments because most people look down on whistle players. No idea why.

What else do you do in your free time?

This was me in 2011, when I still had super short hair.

This was me in 2011, when I still had super short hair.

My love of performing arts isn’t confined to music: I also dance. After a brief stint as an Irish dancer from 2009-2011, I retreated to the infinitely less odd world of ballet, and this year I’m dancing the role of the Cat in my dance school’s production of Peter and the Wolf. I’m also part of the dance troupe for our school production of Fame!, which is entirely outside of my comfort zone as far as technique is concerned, but I think it’ll be a great learning experience. And of course, school productions feature prominently in St Mall’s 2, so it’s all research. (I promise we’ll have a title soon.)

I’ve never really had the opportunity to act as such, though I’d be interested in it, and I’m a massive fan of Shakespeare. Hamlet’s definitely my favourite – I empathise a ridiculous amount with Hamlet as a protagonist, and my theories regarding Ophelia are slightly unusual but I promise you, well backed up with the evidence.

Other than this series, what do you write?

My writing is predominantly inspired by my interest in early/medieval history and mythology, particularly Celtic. An example: I’m currently working on a research project about the position of women in Celtic and Norse society as shown by the mythology of those societies, so if that doesn’t sum me up as a person, I’m not sure what does. As a result, my writing is usually tragic and involves fairies – in fact, one of my long-term projects is a series I refer to as Death and Fairies, so there you go. At the moment, I’m mostly focusing on an action/adventure novel about modern-day knights, and I hope to pursue a traditional publishing route with that.

I also wrote a poetry collection. That was a thing, recently.

What’s your favourite thing to read?

I think my favourite genre of books would be fantasy and all its many permutations and subgenres. In my experience, it provides the best and most cutting social commentary, especially when it’s disguised as humour, like Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels. They’re a fabulously amusing critique of the human race, and I love that about them. Fantasy’s often dismissed as a childish genre, not as serious as litfic or something like that, but I think that’s completely erroneous, because it allows us to step entirely outside of our society and values in order to look at them from another perspective. That’s probably one of the reasons I write so much of it, too.

Mind you, I also like historical fiction, although when it revolves around real people I somehow always manage to run into spoilers simply by researching the period. I was devastated when I found out that Camille Desmoulins was executed while I was still halfway through reading A Place Of Greater Safety… And YA fiction will always have a place close to my heart. A lot of people look down on books written for teens – the same way they look down on teenagers in general life. However, it’s such a massively broad category with so many genres within it, and a lot of my favourite books have been YA because there are often fewer boundaries.

I think what I’m getting at is that I read a lot.

What’s the most important thing to you when writing?

I’m passionate about diversity and representation in books. I definitely feel that literature – including, or perhaps especially, books aimed at younger readers – needs to represent all sorts of people. I think pop culture needs more admirable female characters, more queer characters, more disabled or chronically ill characters, more racially diverse characters … and it should go without saying that their stories shouldn’t revolve around that aspect of their life! You might see some of that sneaking into the St Mall’s series, although obviously it’s set in a girls’ school, so clearly we’re going to need admirable female characters or we won’t have any characters at all.

Anything else you want to tell us about yourself?

Two-in-one photo: archery while dressed as Eponine for World Book Day 2013.

Archery while dressed as Eponine for World Book Day 2013.

When I’m not writing, dancing, playing music (which happens less often now because of my hands), or attempting to realise my dreams of becoming a lady knight (which has involved archery and occasionally horse-riding and will hopefully one day also include armoured combat), I make YouTube videos and watch TV shows that break my heart, like Hannibal or Vikings. Occasionally I dress up as fictional characters, too.

Next time I write for this blog, I’ll share with you a few pieces of trivia about the series … like where Tim’s name came from, or why Helen’s playing the particular pieces she’s playing. In the meantime, though, Charley will probably be writing a post similar to this for herself. See you soon!

– Miriam Joy