Black and white drawing of three children under a large sign that reads "Skimpy Grotto". The children are holding objects: one holding a piece of paper or leaf, another with a flashlight, and the third holding a flashlight or similar item. There are also various objects around them, including a book and tools.
Black and white newspaper front page with the headline 'Scarborough ahoy!' showing a ship on water; includes other headlines and advertisements.
A vibrant cottage garden with various colorful flowers, potted plants, and wooden garden furniture, surrounded by lush green trees and shrubs.
Scarborough beach at sunset with footprints in the sand, calm water, cliffs with buildings, and a clear sky.
A white ceramic pitcher with pink floral patterns on a white windowsill, filled with purple, pink, and lavender flowers facing a window with an outdoor view of green bushes and trees.
A robin bird standing on a white sprinkler head in a grassy yard.
A smiling child with dark hair in a striped shirt laying on grass with a happy dog, seen in black and white.
A black and white photo of a boy and a dog walking along a dirt path through a field of tall grass, with a background of trees, clouds, and a power line tower.

The sixth form magazine I worked on was called Skimpy Grotts - which probably tells you something about both my sense of humour and the seriousness with which we took our editorial duties at the time. But somewhere between the terrible puns and chaotic production days, I discovered that words mattered. That the right ones could make people stop, think, understand something differently - or simply feel reassured at the right moment.

During my teenage years I was a magician’s assistant, a kids’ face painter and a qualified lifeguard. Growing up in Scarborough, the lifeguard part was practically compulsory. Looking back, all of it probably taught me something useful about reading a room, connecting with people and staying calm under pressure - skills that turn out to be surprisingly transferable.

Local journalism came next. Years spent learning how to ask the right questions, find the story underneath the story, and write in a way that respected the audience’s time and intelligence. It’s a discipline that still shapes how I work today. Now I work with organisations and senior leaders to help them communicate through change, pressure and complexity. The contexts may be different - boardrooms rather than newsrooms, transformation programmes rather than front pages - but the instinct is much the same. Find the human story. Make it clear. Make it matter.

I’ve worked across central government, regulated industries, professional services and consumer-facing organisations, helping leaders navigate everything from organisational transformation and operational change through to reputation issues and periods of significant scrutiny.

I live in the Buckinghamshire countryside with my husband, our teenage son, and our beautiful Labrador. I love pottering in my *cottage garden (*see wild and overgrown), cooking a mean prawn linguine, plotting our next travel adventure, and trudging through a muddy field with my four-legged girl. At my heart, though, I’m still very much a Yorkshire girl - happiest with the sand between my toes and the North Sea reminding everyone who’s in charge.