Author: Eva Lauder

I’m in rehab…not the rock and roll kind of rehab, more of a bust your limbs and you’re too screwed for rehabilitation at home kind of rehab, so a specialist centre is going to be your home for the duration of your recovery.

Admittedly, I was in denial with the doctor at the hospital when it was suggested that I am going to need to spend six weeks at this place in order to make a full recovery and a) be independent again b) learn to walk again…both of which are super important to me—well, to anyone who’s affected by a potential life changing injury, really.

I’ve made a couple of friends here, it’s like the Golden Girls meets Sex In The City. These ladies are fabulous company, supportive and an inspiration to me. The one thing I love about talking to older folk is listening to stories of a bygone era of making do and mending, of getting through wars and overcoming difficulties with a, ’We just got on with it’ attitude and, learning expressions and quotes that still, to this day make sense.

The eldest of our group is going to be me in forty odd years— if I make it to that age. Her humour, sass and attitude to life is one that reflects mine. The other lady echoes my thoughts and still carries herself with an air of spirituality and elegance along with the sweetest demeanour. And me? I am a younger version of them, although they are as sharp as pins unlike myself and it often puts me to shame which results in our uncontrollable laughter. So, between us we have formed a formidable trio, helping each other on our journey to recovery…plus they have a love for satire and eye candy. I have been told, ’Just because you get old, it doesn’t mean you lose your appreciation for delicious looking men.’ I gulped my drink before I choked on it.

In the short time we have known each other, we have laughed so hard that we now have the reputation of being the noisiest table in the centre—an accolade we are very proud of given this place has four recovery units. The nurses have told me that they have not heard these ladies laugh so much and it appears I have brought out an air of positivity for them. However, they have inadvertently inspired me to keep going, to up my game and walk that little bit further every day. Yes, it’s at a slothful pace, yes, it’s with a frame, but baby steps lead to independence.

My two ladies have asked me what it is that makes me so positive in my road to recovery, given that my condition hinders everything. I thought about it and, I didn’t have to think too long, much to their relief because I don’t think they’re in a position to wait with bated breath. I replied, ’If you’re not mentally prepared to embark on a journey of peaks and valleys, then you will be climbing that hill with a stone in your shoe and will find it hard to reach the top. It’s mind over matter. If you’re positive in thought, you will find the ascent a lot easier..’

They nodded in sage-like silence and we returned to discussing overcooked vegetables, beef dripping and pork crackling.

Take care,

Eva ©️

It’s been a few months since I last posted a blog, and although my intentions have been to do so on a weekly basis, my life has dictated otherwise. I’ve been working on my new book, marketing the preceding two published novels and, being a mother and grandmother (which has been a true joy to watch my granddaughter develop into a fantastic little human).

After numerous conversations with folk who aren’t in the creative community let alone the writer community, it has been suggested to me that I use A.I to help me out. No, is my answer. Absolutely no way. I have a soul, which invariably means that so does my writing. I get that for folk who aren’t inclined to write creatively, they would need it…I mean phew, an entire article is written in a matter of seconds as can an essay. Brilliant…but not for people like me. Yes, the writing is articulate, yes, it can give great ideas and yes, for people who dream of publishing a book but don’t relish the prospect of the hard work involved in doing so —let’s not forget the stress, self-depreciation, moments of joy, the fatigue and the elusive writer’s block…oh yes, and being a parent or have other responsibilities; these people want a quick turnover from a rough idea to holding the book in their hand. Cool. However, the writing itself, although faultless, is missing a key factor in this—a soul. Readers want to feel the emotions; they want to be in that world they’re reading, not feel as if the writer is dead inside—which technically it is because it’s a robot/computer who has written it. So, it’s a no from me and many writers.

Now, A.I is definitely being eased into our lives with insidious success. As a society we haven’t noticed the dramatic changes that have taken place in our lives. Twenty years ago we didn’t have smart phones and the camera phone was not long released into the world. It isn’t until we look back on timelines in technology that we realise how far we’ve come and, have been a part of the changes. The same is happening with A.I and I genuinely believe that from a practical point of view, it will help others and (ironically) humanity. It is already far superior to the human brain, so, imagine for example, how it can help in medicine and medical research, or disabled people who need help; the robot will understand the needs of its charge and work along side him/her to make their life easier.

From this perspective I think A.I can work. No matter how intelligent someone is, to work with something that can boost the experience will be beneficial to a society that is dumbing down at a rate of knots. The new generation will need to up their game if they are to work with this new way of life and thinking, but is that a problem? I don’t think so. When I see the teenagers that are around my kids’ school and college, I shudder at how many have become a result of the social media hype that is now an integral part of their lives, affecting their attention span and ability to hold a decent conversation. Everything is about speed in concentration (reels are a prime example) and talking. Obviously there are different levels and not everyone is affected the same, but, I do believe that A.I can be advantageous if we, as a race are to keep evolving in the right direction…but not for creatives. We want to continue bleeding for our art!

Take care,

Eva x ©️

…is prevalent in today’s society, mainly within the youth—in fact it’s become a standard way of life for thousands of kids to carry knives/machetes or other weapons with the intention to protect themselves, to cause pain or worse and more often than not, to kill. These occurrences are so frequent that the media doesn’t even report it…or at the very most it’ll be reported on local news. My eldest was living in a part of London where violence is prominent and yet there were pockets of the neighbourhood that were quiet residential areas and nice folk live—diamonds in the ghettos of London that are sold to the bourgeoisie as areas for the trendy that are within a twenty minute door-to-door commute on the underground.

My eldest lived in a great, uber-modern apartment and loved it for the convenience and diversity. One day, we were chatting on the phone as she made her usual walk to the station and had been redirected because of police cordoning-off the street that was now in the undesirable part of said district…a hundred metres away from her home. There had been another fatality; yet it had gone un-reported on national media. Another life taken. Have we become so accustomed to this senseless violence that, although we feel sad we shrug our shoulders and mutter our thoughts and despair of how society has failed, behind the safety of our little bubbles and have almost become resigned to there being yet another killing. Another number to add for data analytics?

People blame it on video-games, a lack of a father-figure/discipline and lack of motivation to succeed. The kids are bored and therefore join gangs where an initiation is required—and guess what’s usually involved? Stabbing someone, a civilian or a member of another gang, to prove themselves. We, are pack-animals by nature, it’s our primal instinct to be part of a group and work together, to hunt and return with a reward for our efforts but somehow working together has evolved to violence and fatalities. Without sounding like an old biddy, back in my day, you moved in gangs and hung out—not all of us had family stability but walking with knives wasn’t even a factor in growing up in teen-adulthood. Where has it gone wrong? Has society indoctrinated the kids to the point where violence/being a ”G” is glorified? To be feared is a symbol of how far up the echelon of respect you are? A sign of personal success?

Before my daughter moved out of the area she lived in, the last straw was when we were driving through Tottenham and a gang of boys were chasing another boy who had consequently fallen into the rear-side eof our car, and my son came face-to-face with the boy who was literally running for his life. The look of fear in his eyes are etched in my boy’s memory for good. The gang-leader had pulled out a huge machete from the leg of his joggers (naive me now knows why these hood-rats wear them now) and continued the chase. The police and choppeers had arrived promptly, but to this day, I don’t know if the lad—and he was a lad, no more than fifteen-years-old survived, managed to escape or died. It was that night that I begged my daughter and son-in-law to get out of London, particularly these volatile areas. I was scared for them and my unborn grandchild—it only takes them to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They’re kids. Angry kids and yet, they fear for their life when faced with losing it…and after witnessing it myself, I was affected by it for weeks after, because although they want to be accepted in a pack, they are scared of the grim reality of being stabbed. Since when has carrying steel become part of every day life? It saddens me, it really does. Taking a life is instant reaction to ”beef” if something is not to their liking or they have to show solidarity and therefore take a life before theirs is—but it doesn’t end there does it? A life for a life is their mantra, so this perpetuates into a long-running dispute which won’t stop until they grow up and out of this—if they’re lucky.

I felt compelled to write this because my heart is heavy. News of a lad who was a good friend of one of my kids had his life snuffed out as a result of knife crime. It has shocked us all and more than anything, my heart is broken for everyone who loves him. You see, for all the terrible acts that are happening, they’re young. They’re friends to their peers outside of whatever else they do, they are a brother, son, cousin and grandson. They are kids who have lost their way and somehow have become embroiled in this life because it’s cool to be feared and seen as a main “G”.

We as a family made the decision to move away from the county lines area we were living because trouble was coming in from London. The kids have a great lifestyle and we have no fear every time they go out.We have been teased about the area for being “dead” but, we’d rather our kids live their lives rather than be “dead”.

Take care,

Eva x ©️

So, my life has changed in the last few weeks…in fact, for all of our family. We have welcomed a beautiful baby girl who has, by all intents and purposes rocked our world. Becoming a grandmother at fifty-one has been an experience, a feeling, that even as a writer, I find it difficult to put into words. When you become a parent, you’re in awe of the tiny poop making machine cradled in your arms and now I’m in awe of the baby I brought into this world who has now brought a life in of her own. My baby girl has had a baby girl.

I haven’t held a newborn in fourteen years, and admittedly, as my daughter passed her baby to me, I was overwhelmed at how tiny this brand new milk-drunk miracle that she and her other-half have created. I knew from that moment on, life would never be the same again. We have become grandparents and are besotted. Just as when you become a parent and your instinct is to protect your child, history has come full circle and this time, it’s our grandchild. We feel the need to love, guide and protect her. Our granddaughter is a brand new human being and it’s our job to support the new parents in every way from here on in, give and take some spoiling and acclimatisation to the chaos and craziness that is her family. Just like becoming a parent is a privilege and a blessing, so is becoming a grandparent, and I for one, take this role very seriously.

In all of this, August has most definitely been a time for new starts and new experiences. As the adage goes, “when one door closes, another one opens”. My middle child is embarking on a new chapter in her education. After spending most of her summer working to earn her own dough, she has been exposed to the grim reality of human nature; for all the wonderful people she’s served at the hotel she’s employed at, she’s also come across total ass-hats…mostly females. Sadly, or maybe it’s not, depends on how you see it (me, I see it as a plus) she’s realised that not all women are as supportive as these motivational memes that flood the internet, drone on about…not all women will fix your crown if it slips. No, sireeee. They’d sooner stamp on it. As a result, these experiences have been a good lesson to prepare for her next stage of life. This summer I’ve seen my daughter transition from a school kid to a young woman who earns her own money and quite frankly has her shit together. College life awaits, as do new adventures with fabulous likeminded friends.

My boy is now turning into a young man; this summer he has grown in stature and this was tested at a time where daughter number two who towered over him is now just below his maximum height and strength. She tried to push him. he barely moved. Since that day, all pushing and shoving has ceased. His voice has also broken…that was weird when I first heard it. It still is. I hear a guy talking and I’m wondering who’s in the house. Oh, oh yeah, just my son growing into a young man. Whaaaa!? Now he’s embarking on the final two years of school life. Ever seen Harry Enfield’s Kevin and Perry? This is life chez Lauder. It’s a barrage of huffing out lots of hot air through flared nostrils, gasps of frustration and arm flapping…and that’s just me. I joke. It’s a tumultuous combination of hormonal teens and mother.

This summer has proven to be memorable in so many ways, and in all honesty, I can’t wait for the next couple of months….oh, and I’m about to publish my second book and the third is well under way, which I’m having a lot of fun with. Life is good, when you go with the flow.

Take care, Eva x

It feels like a lifetime since I last wrote a blog and in a sense, a lifetime has passed. Do I have a reason? Yes, yes I do. I have been busy writing and working on my second book with a view to publish soon AND I’ve been writing the third book, which I’m having a lot of fun with. Although I love writing contemporary romance—we all need a little escapism in this crazy world, right? I’m venturing into comedy/observational humour for my next project.

I have also been dealing with teenage angst of GCSEs, proms and all the politics that surrounds the rollercoaster life of teenage life. My teen and her friends who have now officially left school, have been documenting their days leading to their final goodbye to school life and enjoying their summer so far (which has now come to a grinding halt thanks to the weather). Showing me their montages of kids having a blast, unadulterated fun, had me a little glassy-eyed. These youngsters are moving onto their next chapter into young adulthood and I find myself thinking how time passes us by at the blink of an eye. We get so wrapped up in the daily grind of day to day living that we don’t stop to take notice of the simple things, and it’s these that matter.

This morning I was toddling along with the aid of my two walking canes and a gentleman approached me. ‘Oh, my, you look like you’ve been in the wars,’ he smiled at me with a an enquiring sympathy that I felt compelled to explain. With a smile on my face, I informed him that I have MS, and not only was he taken aback by my reply but he was endeared by the smile behind my statement. To him, “it’s a pig” and I agreed. I can’t do anything but agree. Driving back home had me thinking how things really do move on, and, although it’s a double edged sword, we have no control of time and the perpetual cycle of evolution. Moving on can be a positive facet to our lives but it can also be negative, depending on the situation.

In all of the events over the last year, things have moved on in the right direction and I’m grateful for the people who have joined me on my writing journey and for those who’ve been a constant source of support in my personal life.

Take care,

Eva x ©️

A word that conjures so many connotations. A misspent youth, a misspent childhood, a misspent talent. So much can be misspent. But what about life? Lots of things sadden me, and misspending your life is one of them. At this time of year, we think of loved ones who have passed on. We miss them. We long to speak to them once again, to hold them.

Now, I may or may not step on a few toes here, but my intentions are not to offend: I have grieved the loss of too many people in recent years. Some (in fact most) were too young. Nobody is below the age of forty-seven. A couple have been teenagers. That’s no age. They had so much to give in this world. I live my life as fulfilled as I can. You know, to live life to the fullest, doesn’t mean you have to give up your day job and start a YouTube vlog of your adventures around the world (although I wouldn’t say no), and it doesn’t mean that you have to become a mountaineer. It means that you live the life you want. Whatever that entails, it’s your call. If I die tomorrow, which I hope I don’t because I’m still querying for representation, my friends and loved ones know that I left this world, happy.

When my grandfather was dying, he told me; ‘Eva, I may not have millions in the bank, but I’ve lived my life the way I want to, and have no regrets.’ Those words left a lasting impression on me. Now, conversely, I know of folk who live with the attitude of their glass half empty. They don’t want to get in the car and drive three hundred miles to a place they’ve never been to, before (yes I am that person who made the drive), or experience life’s rich tapestries.When I ask if they are happy, they shrug and say ‘no not really’. They are merely existing. They can’t bring themselves to try and live their lives, in whichever way, that would make them happy. It’s sad. Is it fear of the unknown? Is it lack of confidence? It’s a life misspent. What saddens me, is, that these are people I know. I have major health issues that can not only be problematic, but darn well depressing, but I’ll be damned if I don’t do what I want. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Right? As a result, my kids see, that life is for living and that, mum doesn’t let anything get in the way. This, has set the bar for them, and I know that they will embrace any opportunity that comes their way, at being happy. ‘If mum can do it, so can we, AND she’ll navigate us through it.’

Me, being me, and quite direct, I often try to encourage them to go and do what they’ve always wanted to. You want to get a degree in history? Do it. You want to travel around the Greek islands? Then go. Don’t waste your life yearning for something. Don’t waste the privilege of life.

Wishing you all, happiness and a peaceful 2022.

Take care, Eva x

…it’s all Greek to me! in fact, anything out of my comfort zone is a mission to grapple. I’m not the most tech savvy person known to the human race, but being an indie author, you have to work these things out on your own. Established authors share their wisdom and experience, making it look easy. Blimey, all these writing groups herald the success of their sales thanks to social media. Great. And they get time to complete three books in less than six months. Great, I’m happy for them if not in awe of this shining example of brilliance.

As with anything in modern life, the buck doesn’t stop at writers. It’s across the board. We read and see the amazing achievements of everyone and anyone but rarely of those struggling to keep up. Me, personally, when I screw up, I hold my hands up and admit it. I don’t shy away from my cock-ups— so much so, that I announce it publicly and do the same when I’ve learned from it. Nobody is without fault and certainly nobody is perfect. And that is the issue. Nobody is beyond making mistakes but sadly, many feel the need to keep up the bravado of “living their best life” and inadvertently making those who are struggling, question themselves to the detriment of their mental well-being. No ta. I choose peace of mind.

So, you see, this is exactly the attitude I have installed in my kids since they were little. They’ve grown up watching their mum punching through even when she’s crawling on the floor because MS decides to smack her with a bad episode. What my kids always see, however, is their mother’s determination and devil-my-care attitude, to get back up and brush herself down. I showed them an example of this “not everything you see is real” one day. I was flat out on the lawn. My body decided (again) that I wasn’t going to get up and get my drink. So, I took a photo of my legs and newly manicured toenails and posted it on Instagram #summervibes #lovinglife. My kids knew when they had seen the image what I was really going through and yet viewers were loving the post. I was a woman enjoying the sunshine and taking some much needed ‘me time’. See? It’s all about show. Today’s society hasn’t actually moved on from keeping up with the Joneses. It’s actually just changed medium. We’re not looking over neatly trimmed privet bushes, we’re looking at people’s lives through a screen. We haven’t evolved that much, contrary to what folk would like to think.

Stay true to yourself, because for the person you may envy, they may be wishing that they could take a break and be like you before they burn out.

Take care, © Eva x

The two are closely associated, often misunderstood and at times hang around our necks like an albatross until we accept what has happened, what has shaped us into the people we are and then we can let it go and set ourselves free.

Sounds pretty obvious, right? Wrong. Wronger than putting ketchup with a 3 Michelin star meal. Wronger than french fries dipped in milkshake (yes it is a thing and yes it does taste strangely nice even though it shouldn’t— my posh chef daughter would sooner say she doesn’t like Johnny Depp before accepting either culinary sins).

Where was I? So, regrets versus life lessons. I was talking with an old friend of mine— old as in we’ve known each other years, not because she’s about to join the ranks of my grandma and her crew. Lessons have to be felt before we learn. We have to feel the pain, the hurt and the stress that culminates into a hodgepodge of drama, tears and at times entering the darkness that we can find ourselves getting deeper into and harder to climb out of. When we reach those depths, that then becomes the turning point of climbing out and shoving that experience where the sun don’t shine and learn, never to make the same mistake again. Only, however, if you have taken from the experience and you can pop it in the “Been there, done it, got the proverbial tee-shirt” section in your Book of Life. Like the acknowledgements section at the back of a great book like Being Ines by Eva Lauder (see what I did there? Yaas it’s cheeky, I know. Allow it?).

However, it’s not easy to do this. Yes, you know it’s screwed and the pain was just too much, but some folk continue living this perpetual cycle of making the same mistake, going cold turkey, feeling great and then doing it again. And again. And again, until you really are in no position to comment on other people’s bad situations, because why? Because you didn’t remove that damned albatross around your neck and show no signs of doing so. Life passes you by at a rate of knots, and before you know it, you’re old(er) and still travelling on that same vein that’s been coursing round and round all your life.

That is when, I believe, that regret steps in and slaps you round the face like a football on a winter’s morning. It stings. The realisation that your life has passed you by and you changed nothing. You regret not doing the stuff you’ve always wanted to do and living the life you aspired to as a youngster, who thought that they were invincible.

I’ve been there, and I’ve lived that life. So, I’m talking from experience not out of self-righteous bottom burps. Some folk get the wake-up call and choose to take the re-routed direction of life’s offers, and others invariably continue on the route they’re familiar with, out of the lack of believing that they deserve a better deal, that the cards that fate has turned its hand to is gospel. No more and no less.

Our experiences shapes our psyche but it’s also up to us to break that mould and live life enough to look back and think ‘phew that was close’. If we don’t, that’s when regret kicks in. We regret not being stronger or more ballsy. It’s never too late to cut that chain around your neck and free yourself. There’s always an alternative route, even if we can’t see it clearly, trust in better things.

Take care, Eva x ©

Last month I became a semi-centennial. I’ ve been asked, ’how does it feel to be fifty?’ No different to being 49 actually. However, what I will say is that in reference to my blog about nearing that milestone, many ladies have emailed me/sent me messages about how relatable the blog was, so it got me thinking (no snide comments please ?) about a recent funny I posted about menopause belly. It’s real and boy don’t the algorithms know it. For the last year, my social media has been inundating me with adverts for diets/exercise for menopause belly, accompanied with images of 50 somethings with bikini bodies. Marvellous. Anyone of a delicate disposition/insecurities or even has an unsupportive other-half could make themselves ill over it. It’s like the pressure that young women and girls are put under, to look a certain way, but for older ladies. Admittedly, there have been times that I look at said pictures, read what they do (work out 4 times a week for two hours a session) and eat healthily. Great. That’s that then, problem solved— not however in my world. You see, I’m by no means overweight or even voluptuous but I do have a tummy and I do enjoy eating what the hell I like (mainly chocolate). I admire these ladies and their dedication, but I can’t be those women, I’m afraid. If I embarked on these regimes, I would invariably fall off the bandwagon and go back to eating what I enjoy. Surely, in an era where mental health is prevalent, making women feel inadequate and shitty about themselves is counterintuitive, no?

Which brings me to the subject of men. How is it, a man’s paunch is deemed an endearing sight and accepted as a “dad bod” yet we are under pressure to look amazing even if inside we feel like poop? It’s gone on throughout history…if it’s not wrinkles/lips and lines, it’s our bodies….and in the 21st century we’re still yielding to the hallowed tips to look twenty years younger. Obviously, it’s a personal subject and every person has their hang-ups who then decide how far to take it. I’m still baffled as I write this, as to how it’s cute for a guy to have a gut and yet it’s unappealing for a woman…although, to be fair, some guys don’t care about a woman’s physiological changes that she has to go through and finds it as sensual to look at just as if she looked like a washboard. Then there’s the actual menopause— blimey, womanhood is the gift that keeps on giving. No matter, as with everything in a woman’s life, we take it on the chin and keep marching forward, whether we like it or not.

Approaching middle-age really has been an epiphany for me. Liberating, in fact. As a woman, I feel that I’m at the helm of my life (finally) and I have a confidence that I never knew I had. I’m not talking about my appearance but I am talking about not being a people pleaser. I’m at the stage where I think, ‘ok, if you want to do/don’t do/say this, then knock yourself out.’ Those who matter won’t mind and those who are affronted by it, well, that’s okay too. This comes with experience and age. I am however, determined to guide my kids into this confidence at an earlier time in their young lives. We make mistakes, yes, and to feel the mistake is a lesson learned, but the main thing is to share those pearls of wisdom in a way that will help them through life’s peaks and valleys.

Take care,

© Eva x

…of a a sound that encapsulated my life so far, it would be that of the sea. Cheesy? Maybe, but it’s apt. For me, anyway. Recently, I’ve been given cause to reflect on my life. It made me think of the peaks and valleys of my journey— worry not, I won’t bore you with the details. This is a blog, not a biography.

So, why is the sea the soundtrack to my life? Tis easy when I break it down. That super-massive body of water is dictated by elements we have no control over, just like life. Most certainly mine. Life’s waves give me the highs and lows— no sooner do I think I’m riding the crest of a wave of positivity, that I then find myself fighting to keep myself from being dragged under by a series of waves that Kelly Slater would gladly take his surfboard to (FYI Mr Slater is a rather talented surfer who also happens to have been first in the queue when Mother Nature was handing out good-looking genes.) Yaaas. *sigh*

Then, if it’s not a wave that threatens my ability to keep myself from going under, it’s those pesky regular tides that rise and fall and with it, so do I. Sheesh. This is life…and in particular, mine. I’ve come close to drowning a few times but somehow I rediscover the use of my Advanced Swimmer gold award and start swimming to the surface once again (those grim Saturday morning walks to lessons came in handy eventually).

But, it’s cool. Obviously, I’d rather not have so many challenges, but hey ho. Some wise-guy told me that the universe lobs challenges to people according to strength of character…what we can cope with. I suppose this has formed the rich tapestry to my life, and actually, I like it. It’s colourful, embellished with a smattering of glitter and I have gained so much experience and knowledge which I am able to pass on to my kids and anyone that seeks my help. Yes, I am shamelessly tooting my own trumpet. So, whatever your tune, be proud, it’s for you, after all.

Have a good week. Take care, Eva ©