Margot McCuaig ascends The East Lighthouse, illuminating the voices that dwell there.

I guess it seems quiet on the PhD thesis front, but it isn't. As you'll know from my last update, I have submitted my thesis, and this is where another chapter begins (if that makes sense!). Given my Viva Voce is really close now, presumably my examination committee are reading, or have read my thesis, and will be collaborating on questions ahead of the exam discussion.

This beautiful book, edited by Fiona Skillen, Helena Byrne and Gary James, was published by Peter Lang and launched at the Irish Embassy in London this month (September 2025). I'm thrilled to have written a chapter in the collection, writing about documentary films I have made with my company purpleTV, which feature women in football. Women's stories are incredibly important, particularly in an environment where they have been silenced, misremembered or not deemed important enough to be remembered in the first place.

I'm really excited to be featuring on a panel at the Aye Write Book festival, following the publication of Women Who Dared, From the Famous to the Forgotten, published by Edinburgh University Press. 'This is a vibrant, defiant and deeply human collection of stories about women who have made history - even if history hasn't always remembered them.' I've written an essay in the publication and I'll be speaking about my woman who dared alongside Jo Shaw, Dr Chisomo Kalinga and Dr loulia Kolovou at the Mitchell Library on Saturday 8th November at 7.45pm.  Tickets to the event are available here and the book is available to purchase here.

And that's it! After two crazy years, which were marred by horrendous grief and major surgery, I've managed to stick to my self imposed deadline and submit my thesis. I feel flat, rather than ecstatic, but only because I can't shake off the feeling that my commitment to my work, and its ability to demand my focus over the last couple of years, has been something of a strength that's been keeping me together.

Yesterday, the 26th of May, marked six months since my beautiful daddy died on the 26th of November 2024. It marks six painfully long months since I caressed my fingers around his, his voice no longer even a whisper, his light fading. In the early hours of that morning, I kissed him goodbye, praying that the silence between us was Mum taking his hand and his final breath, stirring a wave of rekindled joy they would resume in a world apart from the one they had left behind.

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The Sideline podcast and Glasgow City FC are hosting a special screening of my 2020 Royal Television Society award winning film, The Women Who Built Glasgow City. I'm thrilled about this as the premiere screening scheduled to take place at the Everyman Cinema in Glasgow (pre BBC ALBA transmission) had to be cancelled because of Covid so it will be lovely for the film to have a wee bit of glitz and glamour after all.

It's lovely to be included in this important new book from Edinburgh University Press. It's called Women Who Dared and is 'stories of resistance, power and defiance from the women who dared to make history'. It's edited by Ben Fletcher-Watson and Jo Shaw and the forward is by the amazing Sara Sheridan. My essay is on a Scot who was involved in the early days of organised women's football, Lady Florence Dixie. You can see a list of all the authors here. The book is out in September.

It's been a while since I've posted a wee update on my thesis progress, but I have a very good reason. I've been busy, writing, and as of yesterday (20th March) I completed a full draft of my thesis. I'm going to pause and take a wee moment to appreciate this. The last 18 months have been challenging to say the least and researching and writing this first draft has been at the centre of keeping me afloat amidst heartbreak and chaos.

It's been forty two days since my dad died. In terms of a number it has no real meaning, not in the sense of it being aligned to a specific date, like a month or two months, or even a birthday or an anniversary. It is another day of losing him again. A day, like the forty one before this one, where I reach for my phone in the middle of the night to check he's okay, or plan my timings for visiting him before I have fully opened my eyes in the morning.

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