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About Me

Captivated by stories from a young age, Nicolette spent endless hours telling tales to her patient parents until finding a better outlet for her creativity. Inevitably, Nicolette ended up working in Australia's publishing industry ... until she didn't. She then worked in the UK publishing industry ... until she didn't. Continuing to spin stories via her blog and extra curricular writing activities, Nicolette is hoping to come out of the COVID-19 sh*t storm with only a rough case of dry hands.



Popular posts from this blog

On the existential crisis of the weekend

  Weekends used to be what life was for. Two days of freedom and relief from the weekday routine, from the grind of office life, from waking up with an alarm. The sweet, giddy euphoria of a Friday night was made all the more intoxicating if you had plans to socialise, go to a gig, watch a film, eat at your local Italian. Not only did you get your socialising/culture/food fix in, but you then had two more days of doing the very same thing. The weekend also offered endless pottering-around-the-house hours since usually it was a space you scarcely saw during the week. A Saturday started with a little light cleaning was one sure way to make you feel as if you were ahead in the productivity stakes, and made the Netflix binge that followed feel earned.   Friday night was balanced out by the cold sweats of Sunday evening but still, the weekend was always worth it, regardless of whether you didn’t move from the couch after Friday night work drinks, or beca...
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On winning (but mostly losing) at Royal Ascot Ladies Day

A full English breakfast with a side of hash browns and two bottles of prosecco (shared between five others, promise). They do say begin as you mean to go on and this meal seemed the right pitch for my first ever visit to Royal Ascot.  Ascot! When we left the café, smugly happy with our mature decision to line our stomachs before our race day began, we joined the well-dressed throng headed to the racecourse entrance. We immediately diverged from those of a higher class, and joined the masses in the Village Enclosure. With a perfectly blue sky above and a blanket of glistening emerald grass below, the air crackled with expectation that memories were about to be made, memories that would last a lifetime. Taking in the surroundings, a plan was quickly established. Booze. Beth. Bets. The line for the bar was weirdly under control and it took no time at all for us to get our hands on a couple of bottles of rose (this would, of course, never be the case a...
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On my first trip abroad

  I took my first overseas trip when I was in year eleven. It was to Noum é a, New Caledonia and it almost didn’t happen. The trip’s purpose was to improve the French language skills of those of us insistent on studying French during our last two years of school, believing the subject a necessity for our futures when we would most certainly be in Paris living our best French lives being all Parisian and speaking fluent French and just being all chic in our Frenchness and you get the picture. The first step on this road to being so Frenchy so chic, was a week’s trip to this South Pacific island wherein we would live with the locals, have 3-hour French lessons each day and immerse ourselves in the otherworldness that comes with visiting a place far removed from that in which you live. But whether it was the 3-hour lessons or the 3-hour flight, not enough of my classmates put their hands up to make this trip a reality. Cue teenage woe-is-me angst, the shedding of many tears, thr...
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