Staying one night at a hotel in the place you live, is one of life’s great joys.

Hi, I’m Harvey. In December 2024 I became the associate editor at SLMan. Since then, I quit the habit of writing for myself. This is the reason that I trotted off down this career path in the first place, all those years ago when starting my freelance writing career. And so, this is a little Substack to reclaim screaming into the void.

Staying in a hotel in the city you live in is one of the finest luxuries known to the human kind. It is. Think of all the bad things about holidays: other people, drinking with your loved ones, making memories, the food, travelling, the expense, playing the annual leave juggling game, language barriers, hangovers, seeing impactful artworks, and having meaningful experiences. Now, what if I told you there was a way to avoid (most of) this. I’m about to spell out to you, the holiday for people who don’t want to go on holiday.

Here’s the sell: you can experience the luxuries of a hotel without the pressure to experience the place itself. Granted, the theory becomes a little caveat-y because it must be a good hotel with luxuries, i.e., good in-room dining, a bath, a fuck-off bed, a sauna, and it must all feel slightly indulgent.

Having to experience a place is exhausting. The mate’s 78 strong Google Map recommendations. The museum you need to book first thing in the morning. Do I need to hire a car? Where to get a good coffee? We’re going to need a taxi with a baby seat in it, aren’t we. And the last one just didn’t show up. Plus, the 14 TikToks you’ve saved each focussing on a different vibe. And then the strange memory of a guy you met in a cinema who said you’ve gotta try this restaurant serving deep-fried offal that you can only book by phone and they don’t speak your language. All of that.

You don’t need this stress.

This one night holiday is a great foil to legitimately do fuck all. You’re going to a hotel. That’s doing something, but, you’re doing fuck all when you get there. It’s actively fuck all. It’s planned fuck all. It’s intentional fuck all. And it’s sad that we need a reason to do nothing, but it’s 2026 and a man dressed as a bin almost won an election.

The joy of this trip is that it removes pressure, expectation and obligation. And that is a real holiday. You can gather yourself and remind yourself you’re okay. Because you are okay. You just need another nap. You just need to have a growling competition with your 8-month old baby. You just need to hear him giggle and forget the outside world.

You don’t need to go far at all, to do that.

3 Things:

Jacques Soloviere - Raymond Grained Ebano

This is a pair of derbies I’m ready to pull the trigger on. They’ve sat in my cerebral shopping basket for the best part of 3 years. I may finally be able to afford them. They may become my personality. Better still, they may give me a personality.

Their unique style is the little elegant wafer thin ham fold of the tongue that stretches into the body of the shoe like an elegant curtain fold. It has poise, character and design. The Raymond Grained Ebano are on my hit list. Calf leather, Blake construction. The sole is lightweight, making it a comfortable and stylish winter shoe. I need to stop convincing myself.

ARKET Henley Tee

I’m very fucking late to the party on this one. Gen Z have been rocking these vintage rockets for years now and it’s only since the whole COS tight ribbed henley blew off in recent times that I’ve paid attention. I’ve now got an ARKET henley and it’s amazing? This particular tee is slightly wide fitting. Wider than the trend requires. But I am totally fine with that. I am a millennial. I’ll be in my own lane with this creamy soft t-shirt. I think it might be the finest, softest, most ludicrously comfortable t-shirt I’ve ever owned. And I really want to believe I’ve never uttered that sentence before, because it is so nice. I never want to wash it, lest the perfection wash away. I like it styling wise because it’s what could be described as a smart t-shirt. Or a casual shirt. Anyway, I wore it to afternoon tea at The Savoy and it felt at ease, right, and charming, in a rich, got my shit-together-type-way. Did I mention I stayed at The Savoy and it was fabulous?

Comb at The Savoy

Yeah. I did stay at The Savoy and I took to combing my hair. Perhaps a slightly right-wing-adjacent fashion take, but dudes should be combing their hair more. You know, like the good old days, when we fought off the Jerries using only our Grandfather’s fishing boat. From someone who’s combed their hair approximately twice in two days and prior to that, maybe twenty years ago. I can confirm that it feels nice on your head (probably some blood-flow-hair-growth pseudoscience in there somewhere), it does untangle your hair, and gives your whole hair a different, more rigid vibe. Because if your hair looks like it’s got its shit together, via mere proximity, you do too. The bamboo comb from The Savoy, which is not The Savoy branded, I just want you to know that I’ve been to The Savoy, in case the whole ‘thought’ section above didn’t make it patently clear that I enjoyed a one night stay at The Savoy. Anyway. This basic bamboo from the most privileged of beginnings is my chosen weapon. Death to all knots and nazis (who we actually sort of beat, you know).