Lord Beestonia isn’t a real lord, which is just as well as he’s most likely allergic to ermine and /or being in the same room as Alan Sugar.
However, it seemed an amusing pen name to bestow upon himself when he began writing about Beeston, and it stuck. His wife, an actual doctor who earned her title, remains unimpressed when people refer to her as ‘Lady Beestonia’.
He was born in Scotland and has lived in Kent, Newcastle and Portugal. However, he grew up in Stapleford and moved here the moment his visa to progress through Bramcote cleared.
He was persuaded to set his online ramblings about Beeston onto paper by Prof J + a Vic hotel halloumi salad + a few quid seed capital. “I’ll give it five issues,” he thought, and seven years later he has come to realise that all the paper pulped from all of the timber lopped from the thickest forests of the world wouldn’t do justice to telling Beeston’s stories. He remains committed to banging on about this town, and is amazed by the wonderful people he has sharing his enthusiasm.