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We were deeply honoured to receive a letter from Clarence House, written on behalf of Her Majesty The Queen, after my sister sent her a copy of Playing with Fire. The letter praised our work supporting women in adversity and our ongoing donations to Women’s Aid. It’s a moment of recognition we’ll treasure, a royal reminder of the power of resilience, courage, and shared experience.

One minute I was minding my own business, the next I was headfirst in the kitchen bin, carbonara and all. Between rogue pets, bruised egos, and my ongoing streak of accidental slapstick, it’s been quite the week. Life really is one part rom-com, two parts chaos, with a generous helping of bin-based humiliation.

From the Biscuit Factory’s glittering charity ball to plans for Whitby’s Goth Weekend, it’s been a whirlwind of ball gowns, laughter and heartfelt moments. Between the glamour, the generosity, and a touch of gothic flair, I was reminded that joy and community often sparkle brightest after the toughest times.

There’s nothing quite as humbling as being stretchered out of your house at 5am by paramedics while the neighbours perform synchronised curtain twitching like they’re auditioning for Rear Window. Blue lights, sirens, and a bruised ego later, I was left marvelling at the NHS; chaotic, kind, and utterly brilliant. Angels in scrubs, every one of them.