The singer, 35, on childhood traumas, gaining confidence, losing her mum and her love for the northeast
I lost my mum last year. She was brilliant, which is what’s so hard about it. Her name was Heather, and it would have been easier if she’d been a bit shit. My brother named her “the patron saint of misfits”. She was understanding and kind. She had time for everyone. I have a mantra now: “Be more Heather.”
Social media divides us, but I don’t know where I’d have been without it during the pandemic. Sometimes I find myself on Twitter thinking: “There she goes, writing about her mum again,” but hearing from other people who’ve lost people, hearing that I’ve helped, it’s been so good for my head.
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