Born and brought up in Liverpool, and in the days of the 11+, I attended Bellerive Convent Grammar School: ‘A School for the Daughters of Young Gentlemen’ as it was described in its early years, and housed in four fabulous merchant villas near Sefton Park.

As a lover of reading and writing stories, I’d always aimed to study English at university somewhere, but two excellent history teachers kindled a lifelong love, and joy, in the subject (history. Hmm…) and under the mentorship of one of them, I was fortunate enough to land a place at Cambridge: New Hall as was, now Murray Edwards College. And then I went back to Liverpool, and in the late 1980s, that raised eyebrows.  

Step back, folks, here comes the corny – the way I saw it, if all the ‘talent’ left Liverpool, how would that help it bounce back? And I had no doubt that it would; and here comes the cliché, I love my home city, and much more than that, I love Oop North.

So back I came, running with the ‘done thing’ and taking a job in an ‘ordinary’ career, namely finance.  Very much expected of me, and anyhow, the idea of a freezing garret whilst writing my Magnus Opus (affectionately know as the Magnificent Octopus) never really did it for me.

Finance has been a fascinating career, I’ve learned a very broad spectrum of skills you might not think associated with it, and yes (uh oh, another cliché alert), I’ve met some fabulous people and made many very good friends.  It even introduced me to my husband!

But. But. The writing never really went away, ideas kept coming, and chapters got written here and there, and somehow, finally, there was a whole book (supportive husband, cheerleader friend, understanding boss… oh, yes, and that pandemic thing).

And the rest, as they say, is history.