A little reminder that if you’re looking for something to compliment the back-to-school energy of early September, you are invited to join me for a two hour Sunday morning workshop on the 6th, to explore approaches for project planning around your creative pursuits.

All are welcome - tickets are available here, and paid subscribers can drop me a message for a free code. See you there? ☕

Book now ✍🏻

👗 Wearing

I popped into my local department store on a whim earlier this month, intrigued to see what was really behind the big red banners of a summer sale, and left 30 minutes later with four new pieces - three Mango, one French Connection - all for less than what the one dress from French Connection should have cost.

That dress, a blue number that one might call cerulean (though FC describes as azure), just might be the outfit choice for the first of two September weddings coming up, while another dress from Mango has already enjoyed an outing or two, offering a comfy but smart summer vibe in rare-for-me colour, khaki.

The other two Mango pieces were a white tee with a thick lace trim that I think will be a nice seasonal transition piece with jeans, plus a soft navy high-neck jumper with side seam rouching that will offer a new shape come autumn. I can’t find either of these online so I suspect they might be earlier seasons, pulled back out for the sell-off. I’m not complaining.

Have you bagged any summer sale bargains this month?

💄Applying

I’ve written before about my back and forth on what to do about the greys now plaguing my brown hair, that don’t feel like me, but also that I am loathed to spend a ton of money on dying, and nervous about the effects of chemical concoctions on my scalp.

After spotting it in the beauty pages of Red magazine, I decided to try Bleach in Instant Coffee, a semi-permanent vegan hair dye, with no bleach, peroxide or ammonia. Due to the lack of chemicals, its impact on greys may be minimal, as noted in some of the product reviews, but after a 40 minute application on wet hair, I noticed a difference in my roots and the ample strands growing through my layers.

More than that though, it gave my hair a real glossy shine that I hadn’t seen or felt in a longtime. Even my partner noticed enough to comment on it!

The effect promises to last between 3 and 30 washes, although I will say after 3-4 washes I did already notice a gradual fading of initial results. But it was quick and easy to use, gave me chance to clean around the bathroom as I let the dye soak in, and, especially around special occasions, might indeed become a new routine I embrace every two months or so.

🎁Gifting

If like me you are looking for ways to support expectant mothers preparing to enter a new phase of life, might I suggest ’s book, Happy Baby, Happy Family?

Packed with advice penned by Amy’s late mum, a long-time health visitor and excited new grandparent, for Amy, and later edited into a whole book for others to benefit from, this is a loving cycle of passing along guidance.

If you get in touch with Amy directly, she’ll also add a personal message for your giftee too.

🥗 Eating

Dinners this month have included a catch ups over spring onion-sprinkled fried rice and and delicious miso aubergine at Gilgamesh, after dipping packed vegetable spring rolls into sweet chilli sauce, having satiated the immediate post-work hunger by nibbling on a selection of Asian crackers. The decor is dark yet gilded with gold in a way that would make this a perfectly cosy spot for an autumn/winter dining experience, but on my visit with Charlotte and Tayla, we sat at a booth made light and airy by the pulled back bifold doors that gave it an almost al fresco dining feel. Much more to discover on the menu so I don’t think it’ll be my last visit.

Not too far away on the culinary spectrum, the following week it was wontons and water spinach, accompanying fried Singapore noodles and crispy sweet and sour chick’n at Tofu Vegan, this time with Ellie. All deliciously fresh and light, our chopsticks couldn’t explore each dish quick enough. A pre-dinner drink was enjoyed at nearby pub The Pocket, as we sampled some independent brews, and tucked ourselves into a wooden booth where we could have stayed and nattered all night long were it not for the dinner reservation calling.

It is never not a privilege to enjoy an evening with good friends and good food and I shall always be grateful for it.

There are of course zero pics of all the delicious fare, because being present in the gossip meant phones for snapping photos were well forgotten in bags. As they likely more often should be.

That said, I captured a few snaps of the interiors at Rosewood London’s Holborn Dining Room last week, where my partner A and I enjoyed a rare dinner date night. It was cosy, with just the right lamp lighting, and as inviting for a booth for one with a good book for company, as it was for a corner table for two. The drinks I would say felt a little overpriced, even for a wonderfully swanky joint (although the Dorset spritz was very refreshing), but the food was top quality. We both devoured a chicken and wild mushroom pie, with a rich lemon thyme sauce, sharing triple cooked chips and roasted vegetables on the side. The pâté royale starter, encased in cherry and port chutney, was reminiscent of childhood Christmases - the only time I’ve ever known pâté to be on offer - and the doughy sourdough we spread it on could have been a meal on its own. We’re already eying up the Sunday roast menu for a delicious autumn/winter treat.

🎭 Visiting

The month kicked off with the WRITE UP Summer Party in the Park; a delightful afternoon of chatting writing and life and heatwaves, over a plentiful picnic, with lovely Substackers. Although WRITE UP seeks to bring together writers of all formats from any and all outlets - even those not yet published - much of the community has been built through Substack connections, and its wonderful to see that community evolve. Stay tuned for more about the main event this autumn - submissions are still open for another week! - but until then thank you to all who made the summer gathering so delightful!

The day after, A and I ventured off to our new local cinema to check out movie of the summer, Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey. Honestly, I wasn’t that keen on the whole affair, suspecting that I would feel, not unlike his 2023 Oppenheimer, that it could have been an hour shorter and not lost anything for it. But all the cultural furor had me intrigued, not least a collection of interviews I read in Elle after picking up a couple of glossies on my way to France earlier in the summer (#longliveprint! - but you can also read them online, with Anne, Charlize, Lupita and Zendaya).

My hypothesis was right, the movie was a bit too one-battle-after-another for me, but it did lead to some interesting conversations with A on his school studies of The Iliad and other classic works, and helped me make more connections with some of the more modern retellings I have engaged with as a total lay-reader.

We continued my education and his reminiscing a week later, at home on the sofa, watching 2004’s Troy, with a hair-swashing Brad Pitt as lone wolf soldier Achilles, caught up in the same venture as Matt Damon’s Odysseus, though this time played by Sean Bean. Each movie aligns with and strays from the original text in different ways - though my understanding of this is mainly based on the interpretations of others - but if an all-star cast gets people talking about great works that underpin what literature is, then why not.

I have also enjoyed ’s reflections on The Odyssey, and this LRB piece by translator Emily Wilson which it led me too.

Have you seen The Odyssey - or Troy?! - and what did you think?

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On a rather different but very fun note, later in the month I experienced my first stag ‘do! I am by now well versed in a hen (more on which below), which have always been typically all female soirées, but I loved the idea of a mixing together to celebrate my friend Callum getting married next month. We have known each other ten years, and he is of the same work era as Gaby, Sarah, and Senay. I like to think I had a part to play in the nudging together of him and bride-to-be Rachel, and together they are total proof that office romances do work. I can’t wait to celebrate them at the big day next month!

In the meantime, the stag featured a mix of prosecco and pints, and plenty of laughs over inventive ways to play darts at Flight Club - another first for me! Despite having had a Gramma who in her heyday played with the likes of thick-gold-chain-and-ring-clad darts icon Bobby George, I did not inherit the magic throw, but managed to hit a triple or two which was enough for a little victory dance (even if they were total flukes…). Later we all tucked into pizzas at Hammerton Brewery, and those interested tuned into Community Shield on the big screen (I’d had to Google what that was, thinking it was perhaps a new trendy activity I was yet to catch wind of). After dessert shots of Baby Guinness I decided it was time for me to call my time with the stags - and stagettes? - a day, heading home happy and full before sunset.

Less than a week later I was back to Wales for a home-hen of a school friend, a follow up celebration for a larger group after the weekend in Montenegro back in May. This time we were celebrating her ‘last rodeo’ complete with a bucking bronco, sparkling Stetsons, and plenty of on karaoke.

The news of Dolly’s passing a few days later felt like a real shock, not least following a series of headlines recently of known-names no longer with us. Although I of course didn’t know her personally, what a total icon, inspiration, and all round solid gem of a woman she was. Her love for rhinestones, literacy, and poetic lyrics were to be marvelled at, and I hope we can all retain a little of her ethos.

This little coaster I bought last month in Oxford now feels all the more pertinent.

The trip home to Wales also allowed for some family time, including a wander around the quaint town of Cowbridge, lined with independent boutiques, delis and coffee spots, plenty of which have outdoor seating perfect for people watching. I left with a dress, a ring, and a pile of cards for upcoming occasions, and the pleasure of a conversational exchange with every single cashier or shopkeeper. ‘Twas a treat to see an independent high street alive and well.

📚 Reading

Alongside getting pretty deep into Dr Corey Keyes’ Languishing, as you will have gathered from this month’s essay, another book I was recently pretty taken by was ’s This Book Made Me Think Of You. A gorgeous love story - for books as much as people - and one that, upon my describing the plot, my partner A noted,

“well, that just sounds like a fantasy, written by a woman for women.”

Yes, my love, perhaps its exactly that, and I lapped the whole thing up. Although posing a danger to any booklover’s already over-flowing TBR pile, I was pleased to have read a lot of the books sprinkled throughout the story, adding to my enjoyment as I appreciated what the mention of them meant at particular moments. The Primrose Hill scene-setting was also delightful, as were trips to Paris, Bali, Italy and more.

In the never-ending quest for more print (and less screens) in my life, I am also back to buying weekend newspapers, having landed on the Financial Times as one that both A and I can get some good reading time out of, dividing up the segments and continuing to peruse through the week what we didn’t get to at the weekend. My last attempt at the magazine crossword didn’t get very far, but I did feel a wave of satisfaction on completing the sudoku.

And one final recommendation I will squeeze in here on account of it being based on a book - though I haven’t read it! - but loved the TV show - The Five-Star Weekend. Another all-star cast here, including millennial icon Jennifer Garner, Chloë Sevigny, Regina Hall, and Gemma Chan, in this eight-part series showcasing a retreat weekend in Nantucket, arranged by grieving Hollis (Garner) for friends from different parts of her life. There is mystery, emotion, and inevitably incredible scenery, let alone great outfits, Nancy-Meyers-esque interiors, and exactly the kind of dramatic escapism I like to get lost in. It was reminiscent of Big Little Lies, which I felt was much more impressive on screen than on the page (not a take I usually hold), but with less murder and more exploration of the nuances of female friendship.

If you’ve watched it, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

And if not, anything else to share from your Little Black Book this month?

Leave a comment

A little reminder that if you’re looking for something to compliment the back-to-school energy of early September, you are invited to join me for a two hour Sunday morning workshop on the 6th, to explore approaches for project planning around your creative pursuits.

All are welcome - tickets are available here, and paid subscribers can drop me a message for a free code. See you there? ☕

A year on from the outbreak of a global pandemic in 2020, author and organisational psychology professor wrote an article for the New York Times (NYT) about this thing, this sensation, we were apparently all feeling - and the crowd went wild. All of a sudden, this term, languishing, was the hot topic of my podcast rotations, antidote wellness trends, and the latest reason we were all failing to do something or other.

That piece became the most read NYT article across the whole of 2021.

We’d lost our zest. We’d been locked in, bubbled up, eaten out to help out then sent back home again. We didn’t know what was going on, and we didn’t know what would happen next, and all that uncertainty made us feel a bit… meh. Also known as a bit… blah. Described by Dr Corey Keyes, the sociologist and professor who first coined the term, not as mental illness but as the absence of mental wellness, languishing is distinct from burnout, depression and anxiety - all of which were of course felt by many during the Covid-19 pandemic too.

But I resonated with languishing. So did many of my friends. There was one group chat that survived on the back and forth of languishing-related link sharing for a couple of months, each member lapping up the content that built on a label that finally told us what we were feeling was really a thing.

Thank goodness, right? But had we even realised we were feeling it until it was a socialised term? A term originally coined in 2002, long before pandemic vibes sent us into whatever weird spiral was causing said notion. Was it the fact that, in an era of striving for productivity, a workplace-guru had managed to give it new meaning? And more than that, offered people a way to describe their current confusing mental state; a state they perhaps hadn’t needed to grapple with before?

Either way, when did it cease its position as buzzword du jour, and why? Half a decade on, are we safely out of the languishing zone, or did we just stop acknowledging a lack of mental wellness - personal and/or collective - when it stopped being zeitgeisty? And how much of that feeling was really wrapped up in the pandemic, compared to just, well, life?

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Evolving research finds a new audience

Despite having researched in this area for several decades, it wasn’t until 2024 that Keyes published the book Languishing: How to Feel Alive Again in a World That Wears Us Down. In the opening pages he writes of his experiences of languishing in childhood and through his teens, into his early professional life. He explores the range of emotions that culminate in a sense of lacking, but without a fitting word to describe it. As a researcher he has long focused on mental wellness, rather than mental illness, even when that approach raised eyebrows among peers and certainly before it was a trend among influencers as much as among medical professionals. Keyes’ interview with Eric Zimmer for his podcast The One You Feed offers an engaging exploration of this mental health spectrum.

Perhaps by the early 2020s though, western society was ready to accept commentary or guidance on a more nuanced approach to mental health, given how much the conversation had opened up in the previous 20 years. But also, it was the first time in perhaps 100 years, since the Spanish flu, that a global pandemic was underway on such a scale. Yes we had collectively faced world wars and economic crashes, and plenty of other disease outbreaks, but this was different.

Covid didn’t care about how much money you had or your position in the office hierarchy or whether you had capacity to homeschool your kids. It was in a way a great (terrible) equaliser, and part of that equalisation process meant millions of us falling into a shared state of blah, even as we tried to keep calm and carry on. Unless perhaps you happened to be living or working in Number 10 at that time, but let’s not go down that wine-fuelled party route right now.

Sitting between depression and flourishing, the word languishing conjures up an image - for me at least - of just bobbing along with the motions; as though sat in the inflatable ring drifting along a theme park’s lazy river. You don’t want to force a current. You don’t want to stay in the same spot. You don’t really know what you want. You just want the water to do its thing and take you along to wherever it will.

But when did we decide to get ourselves going again? When, where and how did that shift happen, that meant we left that near vegetative state - whether it be in relation to our work goals, life plans, or creative ambitions - and reengaged with the relentless energy that seems to be back in full force five years on? And what did it mean to have a shared label for our collective experience as we worked through this process?

Checking out the receipts

As I reflected recently on that strange time, five years on, I ventured into my own research archive of WhatsApp chats and searched “languishing”. I expected to see all the link sharing from 2021, maybe even 2022. I did not expect to see continued chatter about it in 2024. And certainly not claims that “languishing is back”.

But there they was. The receipts showing this sensation hung around longer than remembered.

So what was it that had us so engaged?

I don’t remember exactly when or how I came across Grant’s original article, but a few weeks after its publication there was a May 2021 piece from the NYT I sent to one friend, stating that the opposite of languishing was flourishing, with tips on how to get there. Advice came from experts like Dr Laurie Santos (whose Yale University Science of Wellbeing course I took myself in 2021 - remotely, of course) encouraging us to start with noticing how we feel when we get out of bed - ready to seize the day or perhaps wanting to roll over and sleep again.

A month later I sent the same NYT flourishing advice to a group chat. We must have been discussing the topic at brunch, as my message sits between those of good potato hash and delectable cookies. A few days later, another friend in that group shares a podcast of Steve Jobs’ 2005 Stanford University commencement speech, Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish, which someone had sent to her. We discussed how it might give us a bit of zest to counter all the meh we were feeling, although none of us were necessarily tech bro fans.

Another month on and I’m back with an NPR episode talking about how joy takes some practice, and that we need to practice it to get out of the (languishing) rut we might be stuck in.

Six months later, it’s January 2022, and I drop in with a Refinery 29 piece on feeling disconnected to the year just passed. I note that my languishing still comes in waves, and that the article feels like a good take on the moment. So much has gone on in the big bad outside world we have learnt to be fearful of in ways we might never have thought possible, but our inner worlds became small. Did anything happen for us at all? We chat about how we’ve come to lower the bar of happenings, and make sure to appreciate the small things.

Recalling that time now, so many months blur into one. I think about working from home, on calls with government officials, sat in the bedroom of my flat share, centimeters away from where I would later attempt to sleep. I think about all the time I had to read; I was writing then, but not as much. Reading was often my main evening activity. Alongside rotating books, there was an excitement around what my then flat mates and I might buy from the shop; a new ingredient for dinner could add a bit of nuance in the day.

Another month goes by, and back in the group chat I’m sharing an episode of Dr Laurie Santos’ Happiness Lab podcast I’ve just listened to, with Adam Grant, still riding the wave of languishing exploration thanks to his now infamous NYT article. Listening back more recently, as research for this essay, I am interested by his slight disappointment that everyone really did just immediately align with the article, because as a researcher he enjoys sharing hypotheses that might spark more discussion. He calls out an appreciation for ’s response, who wrote at the time of being in a state of reasonable dormancy, given the global state of affairs, and questioned the need for languishing as a label.

When I first shared that episode in the group chat, one friend has changed jobs and notes that it has maybe pushed her out of the languishing phase with a new challenge - but she still feels exhausted. I text about how I’m trying to treat my then 9-5 as an actual 9-5 (not the behemoth hour-sucker it had turned into, as my team became one of skeleton staff as others were furloughed and some subsequently made redundant through the times that were). We chat a bit about what I might like to do next and contacts are shared and enthusiasm sparked. We don’t read like we’re languishing - but perhaps such is the way of chatting online.

Then, it goes quiet. Updates still shared, chatter still had, but languishing is not referenced.

Until February 2024 that is, when one friend sends a message that declares,

“I keep seeing articles on languishing, it’s back!“.

I add that I’ve also seen some.

Another friend chimes in,

“It’s totally back and I’m feeling it.“

We try to dissect why that might be, and consider that changing company cultures have a big part to play. Return to office mandates are creeping in, but with none of the connection we enjoyed before Covid. By now I’m working at a new job too, and there’s not once been an invitation to grab a drink at the pub. Pre-covid, with my actual work friends (i.e. colleagues who became so much more), a pub trip was (at least) a weekly given. Ritualistic. In the group chat we message about people struggling to engage, focus, and feel motivated by the corporate attempts at adapting to a new world.

Learning to look outside of us again

There is no more talk of languishing after that, not in our messages at least, but later that year one friend from that group chat is living back in America as the 2024 presidential election result is called and we are all as devastated as each other. Seeing a certain orange-faced buffoon holding stake in the grand ol’ house of white is enough to send anyone - on whatever side of the pond - into despair.

But did it perhaps have the opposite effect?

Did news of Trump’s reelection - and the wider global tidal waves of extremist politics, environmental disasters, famine, conflict, genocide - help nudge us out of a collective sorry state and into some form of action? Did a label to describe the feeling of blah, and the tips that came along with that for how to reach a higher state, combined with world events, knock us out of staying nestled in our own ennui?

After so long hanging out in a place of disconnection, apathy and stagnation, it was perhaps inevitable that we’d eventually feel a drive to reach for community, connection, and a stake in the game of life. Feeling down in the dumps is one thing on an individual level, and perhaps is felt even more deeply when shared among friends. But when a whole collective of the global population is feeling it - or at least, of the NYT readership, of which there is up to 100million weekly - it’s perhaps not surprising there was a cultural shift. The eagerness with which we now strive, for something, for anything, could be seen as a reaction to a world that knocked us into oblivion, and then kept pushing us down with one cultural, political, socio-economic shock after another.

But have we taken it too far?

Are we actually now flourishing, or are we too busy maxxing and multitasking, and in the process missing the point of where the notion of flourishing was trying to take us?

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Reaching for a better state

According to Keyes, criteria for flourishing cuts across emotional, social and psychological wellbeing, with a scoring chart in his 2024 book inviting readers to rate how often we feel, for example: satisfied with life; that we belong to a community; consider how society works to make sense; that we’re good at managing the responsibilities of our daily life; that we’re confident to think and express our opinions or ideas.

Flourishing, as we might now think of it, in our vision-boarding, you-go-girl, times, isn’t actually about hitting all our goals or bringing main character energy to all that we do (none of which I think there is anything wrong with, by the way), but it can be found in much simpler ideals.

In 2024 my word of the year was flourishing, as written neatly and decidedly in ’s Goodbye Hello journal. As the prompt on the page invited me to explain why I’d chosen that word, I noted down that I wanted to feel that every area of my life was thriving, and while I acknowledged balance would need to be found to juggle all those pieces at once, I felt like I both deserved and needed a life that was filled with zest; in my work, health, relationships, finances, social life, creativity.

A small ask.

And one, as far as I recall, that was not consciously made with a nod to the reams of content I’d apparently been consuming in the years prior, on how a state of flourishing was my aim to combat the languishing. Funny how these things stay with us…

But if at the time I’d have paid more attention to Keyes’s work, and that of experts, Grant and Santos included, who know it well, I’d perhaps have been less grandiose and self-pressurising in my expectations. In his 2024 book, which I’ve actually only read this summer (after spotting it in a train station book swap, not long after I’d started making notes that would become this essay - how’s that for synchronicity!) Keyes describes the five vitamins for flourishing as:

• Follow your curiosity to learn something new

• Build warm and trusting relationships

• Move closer to the sacred, the divine, and the infinite (though contemplation, meditation, or other spiritual practices)

• Have and live your purpose

• Play (make time for activities where you enjoy the process, not the outcome)

As you might be thinking, there is really nothing new here. And I mean that in the best way. Much like with Santos’ Yale course, we know this stuff.

We know it intuitively, even if not intellectually.

But we tend to be pretty lacking in the application department, and as suggested by the title of ’ podcast (and book) on which Keyes’ appears to discuss all this in more detail, always wondering if we’re Doing It Right.

Hard to swallow

That said, if we consider these vitamins in the context of the pandemic, it’s perhaps understandable they felt difficult to take. Relationship building - and maintaining - was hard when we were forced to stay apart. Play likely felt less fun when held by such limiting parameters. As we saw the tragedy of rising death tolls, I’m sure many of us were questioning the intentions of the divine.

But let’s not forget that this label of languishing came into being long before we were stuck at home watching Tiger King and baking the 50th loaf of banana bread. The sensation itself may show up in different ways at different times - it just so happens that particular time was pretty global.

In his book, Keyes describes an episode of Oprah he happened to tune into some years back, featuring women with seemingly great lives - the house, the jobs, the kids, the partner - questioning whether this was it, or was there something more. Rather than critiquing them for not being grateful for their lot, he explains how the feeling of flourishing requires more than checkbox achievements, but also that the requirements such a rich, full life ask of us (paying bills, keeping the toilet roll stocked up, managing personal appointments alongside work meetings) can make it difficult to take our flourishing vitamins. He states it is not too much to ask to flourish, even in this modern, hectic, chaotic life, that sometimes feels out of our control (not least in a global pandemic). He adds more research on what that might look like, and how that might be achieved, for different people from all walks of life, and not just those seemingly successful ladies on Oprah.

So, having been collectively pretty hung up on the term for at least a year or two, did we really all stop languishing sometime around 2024? Did we finally all learn to take our vitamins, fired up by the state of the world and our ability to be back out in it?

Or did we just move past the trend, a passing fad, and jump on the hype of all the new buzzwords that have come into town since; albeit perhaps not on the scale of Keyes’ languishing via Grant’s NYT piece?

Honestly, I think it was somewhere in the middle.

But that is a fragile balance to hang in, and one we’d do well to be mindful of.

If languishing was a trend, what a cool way to encourage people to open up about their mental health in a more nuanced way. For some perhaps it was a little too much introspection, leading to boredom with that in itself, and a nudge to move on. Maybe the forced slowness of this decade’s early years allowed us to recognise something within ourselves that we stopped taking the time for when life got busy again.

But it doesn’t take a global pandemic for us to feel a little off, and it shouldn’t take one for us to recognise or share that we are. Even if we know all the things we should be doing to keep ourselves on the flourishing side of the mental wellness spectrum, busy work schedules, caring responsibilities, and even fun but hectic summer plans can so easily lead us to falling off the wagon of keeping those vitamin doses stacked.

We didn’t stop languishing, we just stopped feeling it all at once all together all because of the same thing.

We still experience it, as the research suggests we have always done, just in different ways at different times. So now that we’re back to busyness, let’s not let it stifle the connection, nor the collective conversation.

Not only for our own health and wellbeing, but for the functioning of society at large.

In his book Keyes highlights earlier research made famous by Robert Putnam’s 2000 book Bowling Alone (also a staple reference text in my politics degree) detailing how increasing aloneness (in American society) leads to decreased trust of each other, of government, society and systems at large. And imagine - that was before the perils of social media!

In our era of self-care we often put up boundaries and barriers in the name of preserving our mental health, and I like a night in alone with a book and my thoughts as much as (perhaps even more than!) the next person. But lest we not forget that we are inherently social creatures and connection does actually make the world go around.

Staying open to connection and nuance

Adam Grant didn’t come up with something new. He observed something and found existing research to help explain a shared phenomenon. People didn’t start asking during covid - what does meaning look like in my life, and why aren’t I feeling it - and they didn’t stop when the pandemic ended. So while I would encourage us all to still explore ways to reach a state of flourishing, not every day all the time, but as a mainline sensation we are perhaps seeking, I think there’s more we can take from these reflections too.

When we’re experiencing something we can’t quite name, a feeling we can’t put our finger on, let’s look around, ask around, and be curious about whether anyone else is feeling the same. To read, to think, to connect the dots, about what else might be out there that offers some insight on or alignment with that sensation.

I’m not saying we can all be the next Grant, observant and aware enough to land on something that the whole world (or at least western societies) might resonate with, but we can take his instinct to look beyond our personal struggles and engage with others.

In creating and cultivating such connections with a community, near or far, we’ll already be on our way to a higher state of flourishing.

Perhaps you’re laser focused on one creative goal, but with so many small tasks involved, it can feel too challenging to keep at it?

Maybe you have some personal creative projects - like knitting a jumper for a loved one - that you’ve been struggling to finish but are committed to carving out time for?

Wherever you’re at with your artistic endeavours, be they writing, crafting, business-building, or something else entirely, breaking them down into manageable steps is key to bringing your ideas, your visions, your goals, into fruition.

I’ve always been a planner, with a tendency to map things out, writing list after list, and finding time in my diary for when to make things happen.

But over the past couple of years, as my day job has taken me into the depths of the tech world, I’ve learnt new approaches to project management, and as I mapped out work for other teams to deliver, learning how agile ways work in practice, I started to see threads of how this could work in the creative world.

The two are often seen as miles apart - visions of coders typing away across several screens rarely align with ideas we might have about free-flowing artists getting into their groove with a paintbrush in hand.

But ultimately both are working to bring something to life that wasn’t there before, and a little planning can only help that quest - especially if your creative pursuits are met with a million other competing priorities.

Last year I shared an overview of how to marry up the tech world’s scrum principles, a form of agile project management, with creative work, offering a framework for planning and delivery that would ensure results - but by your personal standards, not those of the tech bros.

That piece led to some interesting conversations, online and off, about how we approach work, creative or otherwise, how planning in a structured way denotes a new level of commitment to and from ourselves, and an appreciation for mixing and matching practices from across industries.

But people had questions.

What if I’m working on multiple projects at once - how can I plan for it all?

How do I set this up for a team compared to how it should work just for myself?

What happens when things aren’t going to plan?

While I have answered these through conversations, nothing beats actually working through them together in real time, helping someone overcome those hurdles, and in understanding a new approach, learning how to take what works for them and leave the rest.

In the big wide world of tech there are right ways and wrong ways to embed these practices and principles, as I have had to quickly learn.

But when adapting them for use in our creative work, that isn’t the case. What’s right and wrong is defined by us - our own creative directors - according to what works, and what doesn’t, for our own projects.

This workshop therefore feels like a long time coming! And I’m so excited to share that we’ll be coming together on Sunday 6th September, for a two hour online workshop, 10am - 12pm, embracing the back-to-school energy to fuel our creative projects, planning ahead before the autumn sets in.

Book now 🎟️

Together, in real time, we’ll work through the principles I laid out in my earlier article, defining our overarching goals, breaking them down into deliverables, planning our ‘sprints’ and figuring out how to measure our available creative time within these, taking into account various factors that might be at play, and learning about the ‘ceremonies’ that will keep us on track once we’re on our way.

By the end of our morning together, you’ll have:

• An baseline understanding of scrum and agile principles, and how and why they can work well for your creative pursuits

• Your creative project(s) planned out, digitally or in a more analogue style depending on how you work best

• Learnt how to plan your sprints of work, and how to size different size tasks to ensure a manageable workload

• Planned out your first sprint, so you leave knowing exactly what you’re doing next

• Ideas for how to conduct your sprint ceremonies, keeping you on track in the weeks and months ahead

• Opportunities to connect with others working on their own creative projects, sharing ideas on how we approach our work in different ways, and learning from each other to get inspired

Join us 💻

If all this talk of planning gives you the shivers, but you feel determined to make progress in your creative work, I’d invite you to come along with a curious mind.

Likewise if you love planning, and have tried all the ways with all the notebooks, come along and see if something here lands in a way that sticks.

All are welcome, no matter what your discipline, level of expertise or experience, and if you’re not yet sure what project(s) you might want to pin this around, there’ll be time to figure that out as we dive into the session.

As ever, there is zero pressure.

This is a Sunday morning session, on Zoom, where bed hair is as welcome as your Sunday best, cameras are optional, and there is no requirement to share what you’re working on, though you might find you get more out of it if you do.

Bring a notebook and a pen, maybe some sticky notes if you have them to hand, or have your laptop at the ready to try out some digital tools. For me, a coffee will be non-negotiable, but bring along whatever drinks and snacks light you up on a Sunday morning.

We’ll have a short break in the middle of our two hours together, but you’re welcome to step away any time you need, and the recording will be available afterwards too, if there’s anything you want to recap on.

If you’d like to get a sense of my delivery style - in a true Blue Peter moment - here’s one I made earlier!

This workshop is free for paid subscribers of The Navigation, and £10 for any other guests who’d like to come along.

I hope this low price helps this session feel accessible, and if you know a friend who might like to join, do pass on the invite! 💌

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Thanks to and ’s hard work in creating them, I’d invite participants to adhere to these community guidelines, so we can keep the experience enjoyable for all.

If you have any questions at all, don’t hesitate to get in touch, via the comments, DMs, or reply to this email.

I’d love to see you there, for a morning of connection, creativity, and working towards clarity.

Let’s navigate this together! 🧭

Get your ticket here 🎟️

Before we dive in this week, a little plug to check out my bookish interview with - her first ever interviewee in fact - to kick off the Summer Stack series, accompanying her Summer Reading Challenge.

Up next after me was the brilliant , and with a few more to come over the next few weeks, we are sure to be in good company.

The Studio in the Margins

The Summer Stack: Interview with Lauren

In late June I shared my latest idea. The Summer List: A Reading Challenge and a collection of books to see us through the warmer months. But a reading list without conversations around books always feels like only half the story. I've always been curious about what other people are reading, and I love nothing more than talking about books and swapping recommendations which is exactly how The Summer Stack came about. Each interview in this series is a short, personal conversation with a writer I love about the books in their life…

Read more

2 months ago · 4 likes · 1 comment · Océane Meftah

👗 Wearing

I am, in theory, all for a regular Marie Kondo-ing of one’s wardrobe, keeping what sparks joy, and on a practical level, making sure what’s in there are clothes we actually wear. My wardrobe reality however does not always align with this and I am often tied to pieces with some form of sentimentality, or that spark thoughts of,

well maybe I will wear that again if I have a <insert any random type of> event.

This means my wardrobe does harbour many an item that do not regularly see the light of day, but this month that actually served me well as I pulled out a 10 year old dress. A dress that if I’ve worn it since its first outing I’m sure it’d be once at most, but it just so happened to be the perfect outfit for a work event a few weeks ago.

I originally bought the dress for a summer event in my final year of university (yes, I graduated 10 years ago this summer!) and at the time sported it with a fringe, pink lipstick (it was always MAC’s girl about town - a pre-curser to the tagline of this very newsletter), bright orange platform wedges, and of course a matching orange clutch. It was a look.

This time around, as I searched my wardrobe for something that met the business smart/summer dress brief for a daytime awards ‘do (a product I worked on last year had been nominated… we didn’t win, but hey, there was wine!) and felt wearable in a heatwave, I pulled out the white sleeveless shirt dress that had hung, somewhat forgotten, for literally a decade. I had been meaning to get some work done on it; part of the hem has dropped, and the underarms could do with taking it - but with the weather surpassing 30 degrees, that suddenly became a welcome design feature.

It sits differently on me now than then, and I also knew I’d want to style it in a different way. My hair would be up in a low slung but tightly secured bun for a start, and the bright orange wedges (which did actually make it to the charity shop during the move earlier this year) were replaced by a neutral Tommy Hilfiger pair that have been my go-to summer event shoe since getting them four or five years ago (apparently still available on this random site!)

I paired them with a cream bag I’d bought in Italy, which feels at once smart and summery, especially with an added silky scarf tied around the handle, though when I got compliments on said bag, I did have to be that person:

Oh thanks, I got it in Florence.

The dress itself got its fair share of compliments too. One colleague said the get up was giving some kind of French chic (I’ll take it), another said I looked like I was on a movie set. Who knew.

And the dress in question? It was from the Dorothy Perkins section of Debenhams in Bath (RIP) and probably cost about £35. Long live the high street! (or should that be, bring back the high street?!)

💄 Applying

I love a salon pedicure, especially for summer. But they can be quite expensive, and doing an at home version is a good excuse for a pamper with a podcast in the background, or to keep your hands away from scrolling as you catch up on one of your favourite shows.

When I do mine, I start by removing any old polish, then trim, file and buff my nails. A multi-sided file-buffer combo adapts accordingly depending on whether a big toe needs some roughage to smooth itself over, or a little toe needs some shining. After this I apply cuticle oil, ensuring its absorbed as much as possible, before using an orange stick to push down my cuticles and clear around the whole nailbed.

Before starting to apply the polish, I’ll wipe my toes over with a dab of water on a cotton wool ball, removing any excess oil or bits of dry skin, then its a base coat, two layers of colour, and a top coat. Make sure each of coat is dry enough (not sticky) before applying the next - ergo embrace the opportunity to sit back and relax in between! As you would at a salon, keep a pair of flip flops handy if you know you’ll be moving about soon after.

Optional extras include getting a foot file on rough skin (I recently got a bargain one at Flying Tiger) but better do this after a bath or shower - unless you want to get your feet soaking in a bowl for your at home pedi - then add a slathering of foot cream to top it off.

My colour this month has been Rimmel’s 60 second super shine in white hot love, which does indeed dry fast - not least in this heat - and can stay relatively chip-free for a week.

🎁 Gifting

This month’s gifting exploits included a pre-holiday birthday package for which I had a wonderful time in Boots exploring what was on offer in a scent both the birthday gal and I used to love, hoping to bring a bit of welcome nostalgia as well as new found mini pamper treats for her holiday.

Amidst the latter was a baby bump sheet mask; like a face mask, but for a baby bump, designed to hydrate, cool and sooth. I’m yet to hear reports of how this feels to use, but loved this idea of such TLC for expectant mothers, and the body that is doing something wonderful.

🥗 Eating

Want a quick fire way to add a summer vibe to a standard breakfast, or mid-morning coffee?

Try coconut milk.

On your cereal, be they fancy granola or own brand cornflakes. In your homemade iced lattes. Heck, forget the coffee - a glass of coconut milk is the grown ups version of the kids afternoon milk carton, and no shade here for adding a straw.

Of course you can also add it to your smoothies and shakes, and if you’re feeling adventures, perhaps even to summer soups and sauces (yes from the carton, not the tin - its thinner but I think that’s a nice touch for summer recipes).

Try it and tell me it doesn’t feel like a good way to add a little tropical wonder to your mundane day.

Leave a comment

Other recommendations this month include a quick and dirty (but actually quite healthy) chicken fried rice that I made for a last minute dinner where I wanted to prep in advance so I could enjoy an aperitivo on the balcony with my surprise guest!

Cook a couple of chicken goujons in the oven, cutting into small chunks once they’re done, and boil a pan of brown rice. Chop your green veg (I used broccoli, kale, green beans, peas). When you’re ready to cook, heat sesame oil in a wok with ginger (ground is fine!), chilli flakes and turmeric (or whatever spices you have to hand), before throwing in the green veg. As they start to cook, pour over some soy sauce too. Gradually stir in the chicken chunks and rice, bit by bit so it all comes together nicely, and a little extra sesame oil / soy / chilli as you feel is needed. Dinner will be on the table in less than 15 mins.

Dining out this month has largely been about exploring the foodie fare at local pubs in and around my new area, meeting friends and showing around visiting family. On a weekend trip back home to Wales, my family met for dinner at the pub I used to work in, and though it has changed a lot since then, it is never not tempting to just step behind the bar and serve myself a drink (I refrained).

As I wrap up this week’s issue for you, I am sat at an old haunt, Big Jo, and can confirm the almond croissants are still utterly delicious. But with a coffee and a pastry now leaving only pennies of change from a tenner, my bank account is thankful we left the locale when we did.

🎭Visiting

When my Mam and her partner visited earlier this month we took the opportunity to explore a little outside of London, now that I am somewhat removed from the hustle and bustle of zone one tourism, and headed to St Albans. We walked through Verulamium Park and marvelled at its size - 100 acres no less! - and how it was being so joyously enjoyed by so many groups of friends, families, and kids parties. From there we visited the Cathedral, and although I’m not religious, I often find that places of worship strike a sense of awe and wonder, not least with a stained glass window. The cafe there offered a nice pit stop, and while we just got a few drinks, I will say the sizeable scones looked pretty delectable.

From there we wandered through to the high street, and of course to Books on the Hill which always feels brilliantly magical. I had to restrain myself from adding anything new to my already overflowing bookshelves, but enjoyed a lengthy peruse. Later there was gelato, sparkling apple juice, and the picking up of fresh bread for the week ahead. A welcome little jaunt out of the city.

On another weekend my partner, A, and I headed out early on a Sunday morning to Broadway Market for a mooch around. Things were still getting set up when we arrived, so we stopped off for a sit down coffee before checking out street food options for lunch, amidst browsing books and magazines at The Broadway Bookshop and Artswords Bookshop, which I also wrote about from a solo day out in issue #9.

Later we sat on the picnic benches outside the Cat & Mutton to do some admin in the sun, before getting drinks and bao buns for lunch from a nearby stall. Honestly, they were a little dry and underwhelming. More sriracha please! But still, a nice way to spend the morning when neither of us had plans.

Just this past week I had the pleasure of attending ’s summer soiree at The Anthologist, celebrating two and a half years of their community (WOOW host great workshops!) and the launch of their new membership. Over sparkling rosé (my drink of the summer) I chatted to brilliant women doing so many interesting things, from an AI consultant to a business coach, a life coach who also hosts retreats in Italy, the founder of a new communications agency, a craft maker interested in researching how creativity is seen in different countries, plus - a surprise to see a familiar face - the lovely . I left with a delightful yellow goody bag, and and inspirational spring in my step. Congratulations Sade and team on hosting a gorgeous gathering!

For the rest of July I’m heading to the University of Oxford for a work-related week of workshops and discussions with policymakers, educators, researchers, and technologists from around the world - which will certainly be a nice change of scene! It looks to be a jam-packed week, but I’m hoping to squeeze in time for an artist date too, so if you have recommendations for the city do let me know.

Then as soon as I’m back in London I’ll be heading south west to Kensington Gardens for the WRITE UP Summer Party in the Park! Will I see you there?

📚 Reading

Up top in my interview with , I referenced having recently started ’s We All Want Impossible Things, and knew I was in for a bit of a ride. But really, I had no idea.

I finished the book mid-month, and I’ve thought about it at least every other day since.

For anyone unaware, it is the story of mid-life Ash looking after her childhood best friend, Edi, through her dying days. Inevitably a tearjerker then, especially as Edi will leave behind a young son, and honestly in the first few pages I wasn’t sure I could handle the tale; not least after noting the opening dedication and realising that at least some of this might be inspired by real life events.

Real life events that I too recognise; not because I have had to care for a dying friend (a moment of gratitude for the good health of all my friends please and thank you), but three grandparents who all spent their final weeks or months in a similar set up to Edi. Settling into palliative care in a way that would have felt unimaginable just days or weeks before. The way that, in such care, lucidity comes and goes. The way any small request your person might make becomes your life purpose for the afternoon. The interactions with fellow visitors, come to see their own bed-bound person, all of you navigating the indescribable while living that exact thing.

Tragic. But, wow, are Ash and Edi a humorous pair! Ditto their surrounding family members. Even the staff know how to land a comedic moment well. I laughed out loud on the tube more than once.

But as Edi’s final days began to clearly draw in, I was also on the tube, and felt my jaw tighten, literally holding in the emotion threatening to spill over.

More than once since I’d been reading the book, A had asked why I do it. Why put myself through so much emotion that I wasn’t required to? Each time I struggled with a clear, succinct answer. How does one describe the power of a good story? Sometimes I forget the grip of fiction, and its welcome ability to shake up our real world.

That night, back at home, I knew I had to finish the book. I asked A to keep some kind of physical contact with me as we lay in bed with our books.

Please, just stroke my arm or hold my hand or lean your leg on mine. I just need a bit of support.

I read, and I let the tears come. Away from the tube, now make up free, and in the comfort of my own home. No where left for the emotion to hide; or reason to push it away.

Slow, quiet tears at first. Then, a stream. Finally, a sob. And when the sobs started, they didn’t want to stop.

I cried for the story, for Ash and Edi and Jude and Dash and all the others around the bed that night.

I cried for Catherine and her Ali.

I cried for me, for my Gramma, my Nan, my Grandad, and all of us who had sat around their beds; laughing and longing and hoping and grieving.

And I cried for us all, the lives that we lead, full of stress and anger and annoyance and bitterness over things that don’t matter. Heck, striving, working ourselves to the bone, for things that don’t matter. Because everything that matters was captured in the pages of that story. The love of friends and family. The relationships that make life worth living. That are, in and of themselves, life.

Maybe we can’t always have living room sleepovers with all our loved ones, eating French toast in the early hours, guzzling maple syrup like its going out of fashion (grief encourages weird things). But wow, when we can, what a way to live. Holding hands. Singing songs. Feeling love being given and being received.

Is that not what it is to be human?

I tried to convey something of this to A, lying beside my sobbing self, as it approached midnight on a school night and I struggled to know where to put all this emotion in order to find some semblance of sleep.

I laid into him that we can’t keep forgetting what’s really important (he humbly nodded along, ready for sleep rather than an existential crisis), went to wash my tear-stained face (and chest, and arms), and climbed back into bed as we comedically fought with the duvet, not really knowing if we were too hot or too cold or just right. At some point I fell asleep, and woke the next day feeling slightly surprised at how the book had really taken me.

Later that day, tears threatened themselves again, this time over unwelcome work stress that I couldn’t see a way through. Luckily both A and I were working from home, and he was there to throw my words from the night before right back at me.

Remember what’s important. Remember what’s worth your emotion; worth your dedication.

That work stress wasn’t it.

And all this, I guess, is why I read such stories.

Just a little reminder before we dive in that this month - and listen in by clicking above if you like!* - annual upgraded subscriptions to The Navigation are £25, for which you can access the full archive, including a creative workshop, a book from my shelf to yours, and my unwavering gratitude for your support 🩵🧭

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Last month a trip to France’s Loire Valley was the latest in my wedding-related travels, following last year’s in Tuscany and Toronto, and before that in Lezhë, Stockholm and Santorini.

I am nothing if not an adventured wedding guest!

My partner, A, was along for the ride too, as we turned it into a long weekend away, trading the London temperatures creeping up over 30 degrees for those nearing 40 degrees across the channel. It was therefore a rather sweaty weekend, and a little sleep-less, but also one of celebration, friendship, rest, joy, so much good food (and wine!), and appreciating a slower pace.

Grab your morning cuppa, or something stacked with ice, and read on for more on what I noticed, what I’m bringing home, and a few recommendations should you be visiting this wine region any time soon.

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On y va

A and I set out on a Thursday afternoon, grateful to have set the out-of-office responses on our emails. All was well with our timings, and I gave him a premature high-five as we walked through the automatic airport doors, acknowledging the so-far smooth journey. As we approached the check-in desks however, we clocked that our flight was already delayed by an hour, and at this point started to wonder if this scheduling might cause us issues when landing at our arrival destination.

We spent the next few hours sometimes together, working through never-ending life admin, and sometimes apart, as I shopped (is it even a trip to the airport if you’re not enjoying a last minute peruse in Accessorize for something beaded you definitely don’t need, or grabbing a few extra miniatures in Boots?), picked up some glossy magazines, and eked out the last of the delay with a cold glass of rosé and udon noodles with vegetables in a coconut broth for dinner (do check out Sonoma if you find yourself in Gatwick’s north terminal).

There were further delays at the gate however, and in finding a slot for take off, and so despite a short flight we were inevitably much later arriving at Nantes airport than planned. Cue a mad dash by A to the car rental kiosk, while I stayed behind to pick up the hold luggage. But as I left through the nothing-to-declare corridor I got his call confirming there was no one at there. Despite having been in communication with the rental company up until take off, and the promise that someone would wait for us, the desk was in darkness.

We weren’t the only ones in this predicament, and as fellow travellers lined up against the desks of different providers, chatting in different languages about what they might do now, we too tried to think up various plan Bs. We tried an alternative provider, but they wanted 10x what we’d paid for the car we were meant to have! I searched local hotels, called three in the vicinity of the airport, but all were fully booked. After some pacing, and throwing around of expletives, we accepted the inevitable and pulled up two chairs to bed in for the night. We had a near two hour drive ahead to our final destination, and although the drive into Nantes itself would only have been about 20 minutes, the cost of taxis plus an extra night at a hotel (if we could find one with a room available and late night check in) didn’t seem worth it. By this point it was already midnight, and the desk would be open again at 7:30am.

And so it was that we spent the first night of the holiday doing the pre-bed routine in a public toilet, stretching out our legs from one waiting room chair to another, and trying to wind down despite the sensored bright white lights of the airport flashing on and off anytime a door opened or someone walked past. As I stared down the long corridor ahead, I knew sleep would be a challenge, but leant into accepting the circumstances as an experience, and perhaps something I might write about with wonder another time. What might come to me in these early twilight hours; what new sparks might form in these unfamiliar circumstances?!

As you might guess, there was little I took away from this particular experience other than tiredness. I couldn’t switch off, with people around and an awkward reclined positioning, and the lights and the sounds. I sat awake for most of the night, aside from a few minutes here and there of dozing, and was keen that A - who has a wonderfully annoying knack for being able to sleep absolutely everywhere and anywhere - get as much shut eye as possible given that he is designated driver extraordinaire.

The pro for me however was that I read through the night and finished ’s Mother Mary Comes to Me, which I wrote about more in the last issue of Little Black Book. Another reminder of how books are always the perfect company, even when you don’t anticipate needing them. As I shared recently in this interview with , I pretty much always carry a book in my bag.

I won’t say it was easy, but it helped to let go of the frustration at the situation and just settle in to try and relax for the night, finding the small mercies in being warm and dry and safe. One to keep in mind when other stressful situations arise.

By the time 6am rolled around, we were both ready for coffee, so after a trip back to the public loos with my toiletry bag, we sat down for le petit déjeuner in the airport with fellow early morning travellers. The coffee cup could have done with being three times bigger, but I sipped slowly as I did a little journalling, capturing the experience which would of course become a well worn anecdote by the end of the weekend.

An hour or so later, we were Montreuil-Bellay bound, with bottles of cold water and a bag of madeleines I picked up at the airport; a bag so endless there are still some in the kitchen cupboard even now as I write. As A navigated the roads, adept at driving on the wrong side having grown up in Italy, I let my eyes drop, giving in to the inevitable exhaustion, and dreaming of a soon-to-be-had shower. But as we left the motorways and followed the satnav through quaint rural French villages, I couldn’t help but stay awake to peek at the retro window shutters, and flowers that climbed around wooden doors, made all the more dreamlike against a bright blue sky and sparkling morning sun.

Although intriguing to look at, these communities felt lacking in, well, people. Perhaps all at work or school or keeping cool inside their homes, there was at times an eerie feel as we drove through the windy roads, reminding me a little of scenes from The Returned (an excellent bit of French noir should you be in the mood). In one of these rural settings, we craved more caffeine, but struggled to find any cafes or coffee shops. The odd boulangerie was dotted around - and by the way, why do these not sell coffee? this is a genuine question if anyone can shed light on the answer! - but not much else. Eventually we found a sort of half-open restaurant from which we procured coffee, although my so-called cappuccino came in what I’m pretty sure was an espresso cup, and we laughed as we wondered at what point we’d missed the fact we’d dropped into the world of Thumbelina.

By the time we arrived at our hotel, Le Relais du Bellay, the surrealness of the past 16 hours started to fade as we were welcomed by the lovely family of owners who vowed to have the pool open and ready for a dip by the time we’d unpacked and resettled ourselves in our new home for the next couple of nights.

A holiday re-set

Friday was intended to be a touristy day, but the lure of the pool was too much to turn away from, especially after the somewhat arduous start. We let go of loose plans, and leaned into the invitation to relax. Securing a pair of loungers under a stylish beige parasol with white tassels, we marvelled at being the only people sat admiring the glistening water, with none other that a 16th century château in the backdrop.

We spent the morning flitting between reading and nodding off, admiring the butterflies and bees enjoying the flower-filled surrounding garden, and thanking our lucky stars that the whole lead up to this moment was absolutely worth it.

Loathed to leave this idyllic scene in search of lunch, we opted for a snack at the hotel restaurant which turned into a three course leisurely affair with a bottle of rosé to boot. It’s hard to describe how wonderful it felt to enjoy a slow, quiet meal, just the two of us. There was one other table of three nearby, but we each enjoyed a private lunch, on the patio under the shade, made to feel most welcome by the hotel host. Between the sleepiness from the night before and the afternoon heat, plus the gentle lull encouraged by a few glasses of wine, we fell into a state of happy relaxation.

Over fresh gazpacho, sautéed mushrooms, saltimbocca with vegetable risotto, pork ribs with crispy potatoes, and some kind of delicious local version of Eton mess, we chatted. About this Substack, and what I want to do - with my life! - creatively. About the whirlwind few months we’d had and what was coming next. About what the summer would hold for us. Sometimes we sat in silence, sipping, and looking out at the surrounding beauty. We chatted with the owner about the water pourer and matching cups, both crafted from old wine bottles by a local artisan. At one point, after a hazy sigh, A remarked how times like this really let one feel like we’ve made it. A moment to appreciate life. I couldn’t agree more.

We spent the rest of the afternoon poolside, dipping, reading, napping; relaxing like we hadn’t relaxed in so long. As the sun got ready to make way for the moon, we headed to the room for one of my favourite parts of a holiday - the post-swim shower and change for an evening out, applying lotion on sun-kissed limbs and minimal make-up before setting out into a delightfully unfamiliar night.

Both of us only wanted a light dinner after the lunchtime fare, but A had a taste for fish, so we drove to nearby Saumur to check out the restaurant offerings. Wandering along the river and through the town, we admired the château in the distance and eventually found a place where A (over)ordered a platter of oysters, and I overordered on the wine, but enjoyed dining al fresco nonetheless. After a post-dinner stroll we headed back in the hope of a good night’s sleep ahead of the wedding the following day, but did peak into the town after arriving back at the hotel, taken by the live music of the local Fête de la Musique celebration - an annual country-wide occasion I have since learned. Plenty of local revellers were keen to keep the party going, and we were keen for bed.

Wine and wedding bells

Awake early, we ventured back into the nearby town to visit a boulangerie that A had looked up, and were met with an overwhelming choice for a sweet breakfast treat. Pastries, cream cakes, fruit tarts, fresh loaves. A feast for all the senses. We settled on three, one each and one to share, which was unnecessary but isn’t that what holidays are all about? My chocolate almond croissant lasted all morning as I nibbled away at a few bites then packed it away for more later, and the raspberry tart we shared felt bright and fresh in the hot morning sun. We found a place to grab a coffee (still in tiny cups) and on realising the neighbourhood château was open, and that we had some time to spare, decided to take a visit that morning before getting wedding-ready.

The Château de Montreuil-Bellay looks impressive enough from the outside, but after getting our tickets and entering the courtyard, the view was even more breathtaking. A perfectly kept garden backing onto rolling hills, and shaded tables and chairs from which to finish our coffees before venturing into the historical rooms and winding staircases. An hour was enough for the visit, but within that time there was plenty to explore, through grand drawing rooms, a music room featuring a harp, a piano, and a coffee set pitched on a perfectly located table in the window, plus an in-house chapel with a bridal figure demonstrating the vibe of celebrations gone by.

Outside, walking along the castle walls invites visitors to peer through the gaps once meant for shooting arrows or firing guns, but now offering interesting views of the town and surrounding areas. We actually saw another wedding party enter the grounds that morning, as they made their way to the church that stands grandly next door.

Finishing our tour we wandered back through the shop and perused the wines on offer from the grapes of the Château de Montreuil-Bellay vineyard. As we debated getting some to take home, we were invited to do some tastings, and although it was not yet midday, we were on holiday, and so of course couldn’t say no. I enjoyed a sparkling rosé (it seems I cannot get enough of pale pink wine this summer), while A had a tipple of a red and sparkling white. We left with a bottle of Terres Fortes rouge and marvelled at the decent price given the fancy location.

A morning well spent.

Back at the hotel I dolled myself up while A made the most of a pre-wedding dip in the pool, then soon we were heading back to Saumur where the wedding ceremony would take place in the Town Hall, meeting up with some of my friends, their partners and babies in tow, all in town for the celebrations.

We gathered outside the rather grand venue and awaited the arrival of the special couple, who came together in a vintage car, leading to much applause as the groom pulled in to park. They shared a few hellos with excited guests, before we all made our way into the ceremony hall. Somehow having bagged the Mayor to deliver the service, the joining together of this couple was as momentous as it was personal, including a lot of stories of their the past, present and future. The ceremony was all in French, so those unable to speak the lingo tried to decipher what we could throughout, before getting a full debrief from the French speakers on the drive back to the hotel.

Once there, everyone dispersed for a breather (I stood solidly in front of the fan in our room) before pottering over to the reception venue just a short walk away. Sat aside a river bank was a small restaurant with a beautifully laid out garden space, complete with high tables of handheld fans and cooling spray. We drank champagne as we mixed and mingled beneath the rays and the shade, passing around the sun cream as a chaser to all the life updates we had to catch up on. Delicious canapés were in full flow - the tomato hummus atop tiny crackerbreads were a personal highlight - before taking seats across long banquet tables for an evening of carefully curated courses, interspersed by speeches, games, and selected wines from the groom’s own vineyard!

Later there was dancing - and fairplay to the French who absolutely gave the Brits a run for our money with their moves! - and the cutting of a three-tiered iced sponge, which had been kept magically moist despite the dry heat of the week.

When A and I were ready to hang up our dancing shoes, we walked back to the hotel, and in the midnight blue of the early hours couldn’t help but notice how the lack of light - and indeed any other pollution - opened up the sky to showcase a blanket of glistening stars. It really stopped us in our tracks, and made me realise how unaccustomed we are to seeing such a sight now in London. Stars almost feel like something you only read about in books, or watch in movies, rather than being very much a facet of real life. Before heading back to the room we sat on deckchairs in the hotel garden and just looked up for a while. Without wanting to over-romanticise the moment, it really was a sight to behold. We even struggled to agree on which was the North Star, as so many shone with distinct intent.

A celebratory end to a celebratory day.

A French Sunday on the Summer Solstice

Sunday morning we were up early again with the heat, despite the late night, and had day two of wedding celebrations to look forward to in the afternoon but a free morning. Keen to get outside in search of a breeze, I took my journal down to the garden and sat on a shaded sofa assembled from wooden slats and decorated with bright cushions, and wrote a little of all that was going on. Soon, A and I were heading back to the boulangerie to sample more from their rows of baked goods.

I fancied something savoury, so chose a mini vegetable quiche, while A got a fruity pastry, plus a citron tart for us to share. We sat on picnic benches in the square under the shade of a pop up awning, listening to live music and trying to figure out what kind of event was happening around us. There were stalls of spare motorbike parts, a raffle, t-shirts and tote bags sporting the town’s name, and a huge stall selling everything from 2EUR coffees to a glass of wine and six oysters for 8EUR. It’s not my idea of breakfast, but a welcome treat for plenty it seemed. Locals pottered by with their hand-held fresh baguettes, relaxed, easygoing, and we looked on in admiration and wonder.

The whole scene felt very reminiscent of French Sunday lore, i.e. the notion that on the day when many of us in the UK might be putting the hoover round, cleaning the bathroom, or braving a big supermarket shop, the French are instead spending the day indulging in the small joys of procuring fresh bread, reading over a café au lait, playing games in the park before an early evening apéro ahead of a long lazy dinner with friends, duly staving off thoughts of the to-do list until Monday commences.

I don’t know how the rest of those locals’ days panned out, or what they had for dinner, but if the start of their Sunday was anything to go by, they were onto a winner.

And so too were we, because after getting ready back at the hotel, we were on our way to the groom’s family home for an afternoon BBQ - though not before a somewhat mad dash to drop some friends at a train station as they struggled to find a route back to the airport for their return flight that day! If you’re travelling to the area, I’d say to rely on public transport is a bit of a gamble.

We arrived to a sprawling garden filling with guests, some taking shade on picnic benches under the trees, others grabbing a drink at the makeshift bar, as delicious scents wafted through the large open barn from the other side where the BBQ was in full swing. We got to appreciate the rambling vineyards that essentially acted as the back garden, and noted once again how the bride has of course made an excellent choice, marrying into a family of winemakers. Though impressive, the setting couldn’t have been more welcoming and homely. Adventures were to be had exploring the natural caves that just so happen to be perfect for storing wine, and there were plenty of brightly coloured flowers to admire on loops around the garden with curious little ones.

After a few hours of salads, fruit, cake, as well as all the traditional BBQ fare, plus plenty of sparkling rosé (naturally) while catching up with the bride and groom and reminiscing with friends about the lovely day prior, A and I said our goodbyes, eager for a late afternoon dip in the pool back at our hotel. We spent the next few hours there, reading, swimming, dozing, not moving until about 8pm.

Unsure if or what we wanted for dinner, we took a wander through the town and back towards the river, landing at a casual camping spot for fresh salads, before walking a longer route back to take in the views and make the most of the longest day of the year. Back at the hotel we sat in the garden again until the sun went down, enjoying the serenity of the whole scene.

Not a single Sunday scary in sight.

The Final Frontier

Monday morning, with the weather creeping ever more towards 40 degrees, inevitably I was awake early and packed up before heading down to the patio with my journal for a coffee, while A sorted his luggage. We waved off some friends, thanked our lovely hotel hosts, and set off on our way - though not before a final stop at the infamous boulangerie for a classic butter croissant!

We had an evening flight and so the whole day was still ours. Before heading to Nantes we decided to stop off at Angers. There was a château A was keen to visit, and more besides to see. On arriving, our first port of call was a coffee shop, having felt we’d lacked a decent coffee all weekend. Salvation came from Cardinal, a minimalist establishment with white washed walls, wooden tables, and a Scandinavian feel that wouldn’t have been out of place in London’s Islington.

We took our caffeine for a wander around a few shops and towards the Cathédrale Saint-Maurice d’Angers which was the usual grand offering but with some particularly noteworthy stained glass windows that mapped the twelve zodiac signs against religious imagery. Later we headed to the Château d’Angers, and enjoyed a light lunch at the restaurant there - polenta with vegetables for me, and with fish for him - washed down with, you guessed it, a small glass of chilled rosé.

After a walk around the exhibition spaces, including the impressive tapestry of the Apocalypse (for which I offered A a fun, free and entirely uninformed audio narrative), and a rest under the shade of the trees, we picked up an ice cream before driving onto Nantes. We only had about two hours before needing to head back to the airport, which was the perfect amount of time to visit the Musée d’arts de Nantes. The impressive collection is helpfully mapped out across numbered rooms, building a narrative for the evolution of visual arts across nine centuries. It was also fully air-conned, which at that moment was total bliss, and helped with the enjoyment of exploring pieces by Manet, Kadinsky, and Abramović, among countless others. The current exhibition by Anna and Patrick Poirier - on until August 30th - was a striking addition in the middle of the auditorium, exploring dreams, conflict, and the fragility of civility. It felt poignant and nuanced and added an edge to the permanent collection.

This cultural stop off was the perfect way to end the long weekend.

The homeward bound airport experience was relatively smooth, with only a short delay that allowed me to indulge in a packet of Lays crisps with my dinnertime baguette, having failed to procure any all weekend. One can’t leave the continent without having a nibble on a new, exotic flavour, surely?

Soon enough we were back in London, trekking home in the early hours of Tuesday morning, mindful but not yet ready to accept that we’d be logging into emails in just a few hours.

Although the usual reality beckoned, the whimsical weekend had been every bit a reality too, and I was surprised at how much it had felt like a holiday, despite only being a few days away. Sometimes we feel like we need a month on a beach in the Caribbean to feel relaxed and refreshed. And that does sound delightful. But maybe its just about finding the right combination of exploring the unfamiliar, indulging in fine foods and small joys, and finding a reason to celebrate - and all that can be done right at home too. Not least when this year’s heatwave makes even north London feel like the Med!

So as you go about your Sunday, may I invite you to sit back and relax a little, be it in the sun alone with your book, with friends around a dinner table, or with little ones at the park.

Indulge in the art of a Sunday à la Française.

I chose to put some of the experience under the blanket of a paywall, because I knew there were things this venture would stir up, as well as themes I wanted to intentionally explore, that I didn’t necessarily want any ol’ peruser of the internet to be able to find and read for themselves.

Not that I think any ol’ peruser of the internet is seeking me out in desperation of learning more about the depths of my deepest creative dreams and struggles, but you know, such is the overthinking of navigating online life…

I set out to give us double the time to get through Julia Cameron’s course/book, creating a timetable allowing two weeks for every one of the 12, taking us from July to December. That timetable started on Sunday 6th July 2025 - a year ago today! - and so if you’re feeling ready to dive in with the same structure this year, just adapt the dates for 2026 and you’ll be on your way.

The extra time was much welcomed, and let me work through The Artist’s Way with the diligence I had set out to, wanting to really immerse myself in its offering - reading deprivation week not withstanding! A lovely gathering of you chose to come along with me, and whether you worked through my exact timetable, or dabbled in other ways that worked for you, or even just explored the inspirational resources I shared in each check-in post, it felt like as much a community experience as it did a very personal one.

Thank you for that.

Much of what was written in the monthly reflections was often for myself - perhaps sometimes more than for anyone else - but I was grateful for the accountability of a space to process what was going on through this so-called creative recovery, and I hope that was helpful for you too.

Since we finished in December, starting back this year I launched this ‘next steps’ series, with the aim of continuing intentional implementation of what I’d taken from the original experience, leaning into what was working and re-attempting what hadn’t, as well as offering ongoing encouragement for those who perhaps had fallen off the wagon of the six month journey.

Again I have appreciated the accountability this year, and the regular prompts that being intentional about this has set for how I go about my creative ventures, but also how I live my life more broadly. I have been honest with my reflections, at times fallen off the bandwagon myself - not least with artist dates and morning pages - but I’ve always wanted to pick myself back up again knowing this creativity isn’t going to recover itself.

Through each month’s featured resources to encourage and inspire, it’s been a pleasure to champion the creative work of others, whether it be something to listen to, read, do, or experience, and have people share back what’s inspiring them too.

Putting it out there that I was embarking on The Artist’s Way also led to community and conversation far beyond this Substack readership and out into the IRL world, sparking questions like, “who is Julia Cameron?” and “what is this ‘Artist’s Way’?” from those unfamiliar, to invitations to share how some very specific prompts worked, or didn’t, for me, from those who know the course back to front and around again.

I imagine this might be a little like what it feels like to be training for a marathon. There is a process, new routes to be found along the way and friends and acquaintances to follow on Strava, good days and bad days, and ultimately an end point. But then you don’t just stop running. You run in new ways, to new places, with new people. You might run around the same park regularly too, but you keep showing up, even after the marathon. At least I imagine one might, for the purpose of this metaphor, for I, it’ll not surprise you to learn dear reader, am not a marathoner.

Another highlight of this experience was creating and delivering The Artist’s Way with Ease workshop earlier this year, with special guest . It brought even more people into the mix who hadn’t dived in with my original timetable, and over the course of three hours I opened up a way to make it through all 12 weeks, hopefully encouraging participants to dive in even deeper, and if not to have at least had a lovely creative morning. As I closed off the call that day, I was buzzing with the creative excitement everyone had brought to the table, and vowed it wouldn’t be the last workshop I ran this year. More ideas are in the works, and if you’d like to join another Artist’s Way one live, do let me know, but you can also catch up on the recording too.

Although I have rarely stuck to a weekly artist date - at best they are fortnightly, some months there are none at all - I have become better at taking cup-filling creative inspiration from more subtle happenings in my day-to-day life, often reflecting after the fact on how an interaction or an outing offered up more than I thought it might. I still think there is much value in an intentional date however, and plan to carve out dedicated time over summer for these.

They needn’t be expensive or extravagant or even take place outside of your own home. Last weekend, I took to our (temporary!) dining table with cheap acrylic paper and paints I’d bought a few weeks before and… painted a picture. I had little to no idea what I was doing, and had to Google “how to use acrylic paints” in case I was supposed to do something to like, prep them? But no, squeeze them out, dab ya’ brush, and get going!

I’d been thinking about wanting to do a little painting for a while - I’m pretty sure seeing painting gathering got me going - and it was such a soothing experience to sit for an hour lightly sketching a scene before picking my colours and playing around with how to get different textures on the page.

I am not a painter, I don’t know techniques or how to create effects or how to match colours well. I accepted the sometimes uncomfortable feeling of being a total novice and just… got creative. I’ve decided to share the picture here, not to show off a masterpiece, but in the hope it might help convey how good, how fun, it felt to do.

I often think - or at least I used to - of “my creativity” in relation to writing, but this whole Artist’s Way process has encouraged me to realise that it’s about so much more.

And where else might that creativity take me now?

When I first started this ‘next steps’ series, I promised both you and myself that I’d keep it running until at least the middle of this year, accounting of a whole year (and a bit) of Artist’s Way adventuring. In recent weeks I’ve been pondering on whether to keep it going or draw it to a close, and for now I’ve decided on the latter.

I’ll still be seeking to implement the key takeaways, revisit some prompts, and continue with morning pages and artist dates as much as feels feasible. But as I have mentioned several times before, I am always looking for more time to sink deeper into essay writing, both for and for pitching elsewhere, and so by scaling back on the writing and reflecting for this series, I hope to bring you more insightful and enjoyable words in another form. There are more than a handful of half-started drafts left over from ’s #1000wordsofsummer, let alone what was already laying dormant before, and I’m eager to nurture more of these - as well as workshops in the making that I mentioned earlier, plus my freelance work that sits outside of this Substack, that I’d like some more time to expand on too.

That means for now will return to a more traditional patron model, where you can opt to pay for my work should you find it valuable (and I sincerely hope you do, though I understand the struggle of not being able to support any and all creative work we enjoy!), but there won’t be any additional essays for paid subscribers for the time being. Any future workshops will still be ‘free’ for paid subscribers, with a small fee for anyone else who’d like to join, and paid subscribers are also so welcome to choose a book from my shelf to yours, which I’ll duly send to you in the post. 💌

The next workshop I’m working on is an adaptation of this article, to help you build a new framework for your creative pursuits, enabling manageable, regular progress. I had a lot of great conversations off the back of that initial piece and I’m excited to bring it to life in a more tangible way for us.

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And where will your creativity take you next?

What have you taken from this experience, that’s set you on a new path?

Are you actually just getting started - or still thinking about doing The Artist’s Way this year?

Are you finding creative inspiration elsewhere, outside of this 12 step programme, that you’d like to share with us?

The comments are open for all today, so come one, come all, to share where you’re at on your creative journey, and indeed what creativity, and living a creative life, even means to you?

I’m sure there’s something different in it for all of us.

I will look forward to reading your reflections, and in the meantime you’ll find me reading ’s perfectly timed new release, A Creative Compass.

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There’s a few newcomers here this month - hello! I am wishing you all a warm welcome (literally!) and hope you enjoy this little round up. You can read more about the origins (and the justifications I felt I had to make to write about the ‘frivolous’) over here.

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👗Wearing

It. Is. Hot.

I’m not going to pretend I don’t love it. I try not to complain about it because to feel the sun on my skin with such intensity in the UK feels like a special kind of treat - even if not entirely healthy.

That said, I am not immune to the experiences we’re all dealing with through this summer of soaring temperatures, like sweating from parts of our body we didn’t know we could, constantly needing to dab that upper lip and shiny forehead, and trying to avoid any skin on skin contact - with our own bodies as much as anyone else’s.

I’d quite like to walk around in a swimsuit and that be it - and when I say walk around, I really mean around a glistening pool that I can dip in and out of all day long.

Alas, that is not quite the reality of my everyday.

So, when I’m having to get dressed to venture into the world, in this kind of weather first of all I’m looking for something that is going to keep my underarms free and breezy. Loose tops, light fabrics, and barely there straps that allow my armpits space to breath, and avoid obvious sweat patches.

On more relaxed days, or especially on holiday (this month I had a weekend in 40 degree France for a wedding), I’ll pair a loose strappy top with short shorts - usually a sun-cream-stained white pair I got from Gap years ago, now kept for such days when a combination of sweat and sun cream are the key accessories. In times gone by I’d have worried too much about the cellulite on show, or the lack of “thigh gap”, and all that nonsense. Now I’d rather worry about making sure I apply the factor 50, and where the next iced coffee is coming from.

For something more office appropriate, I still want open arms, then perhaps a midi or maxi cotton skirt or dress, preventing my legs from sticking to rigid chairs, and easy enough to ruche up for a bit of lunchtime tanning in the park.

The green and white Zara top and linen RW&Co. dress I got in Canada last year have been on regular rotation, as well as other strappy numbers from years gone by that come out time and time again for this season.

All this spaghetti strap wearing does however mean I am reliant on strapless bras, and am yet to find a supportive one that doesn’t leave my skin feeling raw at the end of the day. If anyone can recommend something sturdy and soft that doesn’t feel like some kind of torture device, you may become my new favourite reader…

Whare are you wearing to keep cool this season?

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💄 Applying

Earlier this month I visited a new chiropodist, after a few years since I’d seen my usual guy back in Wales. Now that I’m a homeowner I’m slowly accepting I should probably also be finding more local service providers, instead of trying to squeeze in haircuts / dentist visits / beauty treatments whenever I’m back home home.

Anyway, she did what she needed to do to tackle the parts of my feet looking a little untoward, and afterwards recommended some expert-approved creams for keeping hard skin at bay between appointments.

Anything predominantly urea-based is apparently best for this, and she recommended two brands available at most local pharmacies: Flexitol and CCS.

The Flexitol range was on offer when I popped to Boots after my appointment (though so too is CCS at the moment) and since then I’ve been applying some each night to my feet before bed in three key areas where they need it the most.

It’s a thick formula that is easily applied and absorbed pretty quickly, and despite days of walking around in leather sandals on dusty streets, my feet are keeping rather smooth.

🎁 Gifting

Father’s Day gifting this month leaned into old favourites - retro Haribo and other summer inspired jelly sweets, and cheesecake flavour chocolates, plus golf-related socks. Blaming the heat for my lack of creativity, but sometimes the old classics are classics for a reason, are they not?

Elsewhere, for a little one in my life, there was a wipeable board of insects and other such creatures an explorer might find in their back garden, or at the local park, which can be ticked off or counted up at each outing, then wiped off ready to go again next time. The accompanying magnifying glass makes sure no bug gets missed, and a mini pair of gardening gloves perhaps encourages a bit of weeding while they’re at it…

🥗 Eating

On the first Friday of the month I had lunch with my friend Malin at WOLFOX Savoy which was a delightful interlude to the working day, and I left feeling full of inspiration and joy. We put the world to rights over coffees and seeded bagels - bacon and avocado for me, salmon and cream cheese for her - before sharing a slice of perfectly moist red velvet cake that I’d spied at the counter. The interior is light and airy, classy but not snooty, and feels like a calm oasis amidst the buzzy vibe of central London.

The following week, not too far away, I met another good friend for dinner at Gino D’Acampo restaurant, Luciano. The decor is beautifully extravagant, but to be honest the night was spent less on appreciating the surroundings and more on catching up on months of news over a cold bottle of rosé. It took us half an hour or more to order, because every time the waiter came by we were still yet to pause the chatter to open the menu. Eventually we tucked into succulent beef ragu arancini balls, drizzled in a red pepper and tomato sauce, as well as zucchini fritti (always one of our faves to share), before a pasta dish each - salmon based of her, and a carbonara for me. It was so deliciously rich that I could only eat half, but took home the rest for lunch the next day.

Mid-month, A and I enjoyed an impromptu after work beer garden dinner, discovering a pizza oven serving up hot and fresh easy dinners out the back of a local boozer. Sometimes you can’t beat pizza and a pint on a warm summer’s night.

Later, heatwave dinner outings happened at Sagar, with Charlotte and Tayla, a South Indian Vegetarian Restaurant, which has a delicious menu but a curry wasn’t perhaps the lightest option for a dinner on a 34 degree day. Later that week, flavourful buns and rice offered a slightly fresher option at Bao, accompanied by a tangy salted citrus soda, enjoyed in the shade of a balmy eve with friends Callum and Christian (who love a namecheck in this newsletter 😉) as we discussed - among many other things - the perils of our own to-do lists! I felt very seen.

The pastry game has been strong this month, both at my new favourite local cafe, and more centrally at Qima, suggested by a friend before a stroll around Regents Park with her little one, where the buttery, nutty pistachio flan melted in my watering mouth.

At home, I’ve been experimenting with open sandwiches for lunch, using whatever feels easy and needs using up in the fridge. A simple but effective combo was hummus spread on lightly toasted sourdough, topped with fried courgettes, with a super light drizzle of olive oil, balsamic glaze, and seasoned with salt and pepper. Yoghurt and granola bowls have been enjoyed at breakfast, especially with frozen berries that melt coulis into what becomes a gourmet breakfast.

🎭 Visiting

It was a joy to spend an evening earlier this month with and at a gathering. We nestled into a cosy corner of a wood panelled bar, on one of those nights when June was in its rainy season, and chatted away for hours about all things writing, creative living, the elusive work-life balance, magazine culture, AI, and so much more. It was a bonus getting to meet and , and a welcome reminder of how good it feels to be in community with people who are interesting and interested, and have so much to share about the thing you all love.

A few days later, when the rain had stopped and the month was figuring out how to return to summer, I was picnicing at Hampsted Heath, thanks to a gathering my friend Ellie and her boyfriend had organised, purely to bring together as many friends who could make it for a beautiful afternoon under the shade of the trees - just because. Because why not make the most of having such a beautiful setting on our doorsteps (literally for them, who live close by), and chill and chat and let the afternoon while away in the company of friends, acquaintances, and visitors to the city. An abundance of blankets and cushions accompanied a table of food, with everyone contributing a dish or two, and ice buckets full of drinks. Fresh cut flowers offered finishing touches, and portable speakers ensured an appropriate soundtrack. They’d even made a digital flyer for the event, already conjuring up dreams of a hazy afternoon. A wonderful example of having a small but worthy vision, and just making it happen.

Last weekend I was out of the city and in France’s Loire Valley for a friend’s wedding. Despite a few travel hiccups, and it only being a few days away, the trip definitely had holiday vibes - perhaps not least because of the luxurious access to an outdoor pool that was the perfect refresher amidst rising temperatures. More to come in a meanderings essay soon, but if you’re wondering if I ate a lot of pastries and drank a lot of wine, I’ll tell you - yes, yes I did.

📚 Reading

I started and finished two books within this month; something that has become a rarity as this year I’ve had up to six on the go at once which means it takes a good while to get through any them.

The heftier finisher in question was Mother Mary Comes To Me, new(ish) memoir from . Ellie (of the picnic) had excitedly pushed it into my hands when I saw her a month or two ago on the day she had finished reading it, as she was eager to have someone to discuss it with.

I held off diving in while going through the faff of the move, and was glad to have a little more headspace to really get into it, as despite the handy short chapters, it’s a read that I think warrants longer stretches of time to enjoy at each sitting.

I knew of Roy’s literary work, and read Booker Prize winning The God of Small Things in 2019 (I was subletting a whole flat to myself for the summer from a researcher away in the field for a few months who left behind a fantastic book collection!), and a few years later The Ministry of Utmost Happiness. I knew she was revered, as well as being a polemic figure, but I wasn’t really sure why. I also had no idea of who her mother was, or the work she had done to champion education and women’s rights in India. I certainly wasn’t aware of their tumultuous relationship, how so much of the hardship I had read in Roy’s novels were actually interpreted scenes and memories from her own life, nor how, despite being a world renowned teller of stories, weaving activism and journalism with fiction, she is a trained architect.

To say then that I learnt a lot while reading Mother Mary is an understatement. It also made me think a lot. It made me feel a lot. It made me analyse the relational dynamics she writes so closely about, but never in a way that feels vulgarly revealing, while mapping that analysis onto dynamics I have or experience in my own life. I felt inspired by the way Roy follows her own scent of creativity - drawing, writing, scripting, acting - without it being an intentional chase of trying to live a “creative life”. She, I think, has sought to live a meaningful life, and has been creative in her means to do so.

This isn’t a light read, but it is certainly a captivating one, and if you’re looking for something that combines personal narrative with historical context, what it means to live a writers life while facing the ills of the world, and have it woven all together through the lens of a mother-daughter relationship, this might be a book for you to pick up.

The lighter read I completed this month - though one I know will be re-read several times more - was new publication by of the : YOU. Outlining her three-step process to help readers discover who we really are and what we really want, having read countless self-help books herself in recent years following a career/life change, this pocket sized read is as practical as it is comforting, featuring expert advice, insights on Toni’s own experiences, and plenty of journal prompts to explore.

For more summer reading inspiration, here’s some I shared earlier…

My approach to holiday reading is to dive into books set in the country, or sometimes even city, I am visiting, or choosing something written by an author from that country. Not only does it add a richness to the holiday itself, the experience, enjoyment and immersion into the location, but one leaves with more to talk about, and to think about, than which beach bar did the best cocktails (though that is of course excellent post-holiday fodder).

So whether you’re jetting off for a Eurosummer getaway, or looking for an escape from the garden of your staycation, here’s a selection of seven countries with associated book recommendations, whether you’re making a dash to your local bookshop to stock up or in need of something to make a beeline for in the departures lounge.

🇦🇱 ALBANIA 🇦🇱

Despite recent protests, Albania is increasingly becoming a summer hot spot, growing in popularity with tourists from across Europe and beyond. Perhaps the most popular literary export is Ismail Kadare, whose fictional and political works have been translated into a number of languages. Having read two of his novels - The Ghost Rider and Agamemnon’s Daughter - I’ve found myself struggling to fully engage. They do however offer a excellent dive into the particularities Albanian culture and history, though much of this is to be found between the lines. Kadare was the inaugural winner of the International Booker Prize - so he was obviously doing something right.

A read more up my ally was Free; Lea Ypi’s tales of Albania through the late 1980s, into the 1990s, detailing the collapse of communism, first through the eyes of a child (her own, as a young girl), and then with more of a wider socio-political lens. She reflects on her continued experiences and realisations, through the 2000s and up to present day, now as a lecturer at the London School of Economics. Ypi has a way of storytelling that I really lapped up, which is a rare find for a book so educational. My Albanian partner takes some issue with her portrayal of certain elements of historical storytelling - namely in who were the haves and the haves not - but I think readers coming at this book quite fresh to Albanian history, will find it an interesting read.

Last year Ypi published a new book, Indignity, exploring more of her family’s complex past. I am yet to read it, though did enjoy listening to her speak at an event about the writing of it, and I’ve no doubt there’s some interesting country-focused storytelling to be found within its pages.

🇭🇷 CROATIA 🇭🇷

With two iconic covers (UK and US) last summer I felt like ’s debut novel, Slanting Towards The Sea, was everywhere I turned in literary circles - and for good reason. This somewhat-romantic tale will break your heart as you repeatedly ask of the characters, “what is going on here?!”

But in learning of their relationship dynamics so too do we learn of the protagonist’s relationship with her country and its land - brought even closer to the surface as she considers whether something better might be beyond it.

I read this book almost a year ago and yet it still lives so viscerally in my mind, thanks to the vividity with which the author writes about the closeness of touch, the process of making olive oil, and the care taken in subtly explaining how the socio-economic struggles faced across Croatia influence these very real experiences, and more.

A tale full of emotion that’ll draw you in and keep you there until the end.

🇫🇮 FINLAND 🇫🇮

The small island setting of Tove Jansson’s The Summer Book, with its somewhat rickety house that could probably do with a good clean, isn’t exactly my idea of paradise. I was never the kind of kid, as is the six-year-old granddaughter we spend the summer with, who liked playing in dirt and exploring over the rocks and seeing what might be caught at the waterbed beyond the vegetation.

And yet I found myself captured by this little one, and her grandmother, each vying for their own independence in this home for the summer that seems to offer so many elements to explore. Their love for each other is fierce, but so much so it is often too difficult to speak it, and we see the tensions of cabin fever as each other thinks they know best. We are aware of the age difference - the first scene is trying to uncover a pair of misplaced false teeth - but they speak to each other as peers; old friends holidaying together.

There was much in this tale that reminded me of my relationship with my own grandmother - a lot of do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do - which added an element of comfort to this read. A read that also boats fabulously quippy dialogue, not to mention vividly capturing the landscape of the Gulf of Finland. The presence of grief is apparent; the dad moves in, out, and around, and the mum’s absence is noted. But this isn’t a sad book. You will feel the emotion, but it’ll put plenty of smiles on your face too.

🇬🇷 GREECE 🇬🇷

I’ve written previously of Madeline Miller’s Circe as the perfect Greek read, but I’m here to fly the flag for it once again. It was my first foray into the genre of mythical retellings, and I found it to be a page-turner that captured my imagination from the sun lounger in Halkidiki. I’m not usually one for grappling with worlds beyond what I know to be humanly true (I’ve never read any of the Harry Potters…) but thanks to Miller’s writing I found myself happily walking through the marbled corridors of the gods and being drawn in by the impact of all their magical powers. Fantasy meets mythology - a great combination for rich storytelling.

A few years later I found Charlotte Higgins’ Greek Myths: A New Retelling, more difficult to read, largely I think because the book detailed more brutality towards the women whose stories it revisited. Not quite beach-read vibes then, unless you don’t mind that sort of confrontation with your midday cocktail. It does however have much of the same theatrical gusto of Circe, but with a wider span of stories, so good if you’re looking to expand your breadth of mythological knowledge.

🇮🇹 ITALY 🇮🇹

Ready to experience la dolce vita? Lucky you - I’ve got two routes of action.

You could opt for Elena Ferrante’s Neopolitan Quartet - the first and most well known of which is My Brilliant Friend, though my favourite is the third, Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay. Dive into the lifelong friendship of Elena and Lina , and all the love, heartache and competition that comes with. So much has been written about this literary series, but for good reason I say. To this day I maintain that I’ve not read anything that details female friendship with such closely explored nuance (although four books should inevitably allow for that) - and the way we learn so much local history along the way is a cleverly added bonus.

Alternatively, get your kicks from juicy peaches and a summer romance for the ages - whatever your sexuality - in Andre Aciman’s Call Me By Your Name. I desperately tried to savour this book, as much as I wanted to ravenously devour it, for how it portrays the push and pull of infatuation and fancy, especially surrounded by such idyllic scenery.

For me, all these books have a permanent place in my brain, and transport me to various locations across the Italian peninsula whenever I think of them. From the rugged villages of old school Napoli, to the sophistication of new age Florence, these evocative tales offer the perfect fodder for your summer read.

If you enjoy screen adaptations, my take is that Luca Guadagnino’s Call Me By Your Name movie is a better watch than the TV adaptation of My Brilliant Friend. Although they both feel like close plays of the written form, the former I think captures more of the book’s zest. I found the on-screen characters of My Brilliant Friend at times a little dry, and though I came to appreciate him, the on-screen Nino was not the Nino of my imagination. The costume department however did a fantastic job of showcasing evolving trends through the decades portrayed, capturing that sense of old school Italian glamour.

🇪🇸 SPAIN 🇪🇸

Whenever I spot the cover of Deborah Levy’s Hot Milk on my bookshelf, or out in the wild, I almost feel instantly relaxed in that woozy sort of way that comes from getting absorbed in something lyrical on a hot summer’s day. I don’t remember what the weather was like when I first read this book, but I remember that it made me feel as though I were brushing off sweat from the Spanish sun, as I read of a daughter seeking medical help for her enduring mother, while embarking on an adventure of her own. There is a Greek influence too, by way of narrator Sophia’s somewhat absent father, adding to the Eurosummer vibes with a trip to Athens. A contemporary Guardian review described this novel as “hypnotic” and I couldn’t agree more. Even thinking about it puts me in a happily languishing fever dream.

For something more historical, Isabel Allende’s A Long Petal Of The Sea offers a family saga that takes us from the Spanish Civil War on a boat trip escaping to Chile, then though the rise and fall of Pinochet. Novels like these, that give us a route into realities of past and present but through beautiful fictionalised storytelling, are some of my favourites, and make for great reads when wanting to learn more about a place. As I read this on a beach in Alicante a couple of years ago, sipping Fanta lemons and piña coladas, I wasn’t exactly soaking up the Spanish culture (save for dinnertime tapas) but meeting a cast of characters with a deep love of their country, its language, and creating a new home away from home with all the traditions and rituals that requires, meant I took home a little more knowledge of the country’s history along with the obligatory postcard and magnet.

🇨🇭 SWITZRLAND 🇨🇭

Anita Brookner’s Hotel du Lac is one of those novels you can probably gobble up in a day or two, especially if on holiday. The story of a romance novelist staying on the shores of Lake Geneva, the other guests that she meets there, and how her interactions with them force some introspection at who she is and how she lives. I’m not promising this offers much by way of learning about Swiss culture per se, but if you’re looking for a seasonal read set lakeside, with writing worthy of a Booker Prize win, this is worth picking up.

🗺️ And one for the ages…

A book I have read time and time again, and will likely continue to do so for years to come, is Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel. I picked it up in an artsy coffee shop in Vienna, on a Christmas market trip probably around 10 years ago, and for a while I read once or twice a year, in anticipation of any upcoming travel.

I have been a fan of de Botton since a wise-but-cool sixth form teacher recommended to me The Consolations of Philosophy as a cure to whatever bout of teenage angst I was complaining about at 17. As in that timeless book, here de Botton takes key lessons, works, ways of being, from big name philosophers - but also artists, writers, and other creatives - and explores what we can apply to how we travel.

Not where. Not even necessarily why. But how.

And while we often think of travel as sunny beaches in far flung destinations, the stress of the airport is as much as part of the experience as burying our toes in the sand and somehow bringing back half the beach in our luggage. But travel needn’t be that exotic. Exploring our locale offers as much opportunity for nuance, wonder, and refreshment as any jetset trip - or so we are encouraged to ponder.

For blue sky thinking, creative inspiration, and signature wit throughout, do check out The Art of Travel, wherever, and however, you may be travelling this summer.

What would you add to this list? 📚

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Craving some dedicated reading time, in the cosiest of spaces, with a chance to engage in your own creativity, meet fellow booklovers, and chat with not one, not two, but three authors? We’ve got just the thing, happening this November…

Welcome back to this follow up series for The Artist’s Way, all about exploring what happens after those 12 glorious / arduous weeks of recovering our creativity. Catch up on the full series here.

👩🏻‍🎨 Resources to encourage and inspire

On the hunt for a new short form podcast with actionable ideas to help put a spark in your writing? Well has just the thing, with This Might Work. The first few episodes feature familiar names - including and - sharing one thing that works for them when things otherwise might be feeling a little stiff. Then, one eager creative takes on the challenge of testing the approach out for themselves, and reporting back to Bec.

Bec is the co-author of the brilliant book, Written: How to Keep Writing and Build a Habit That Lasts, (mine is full of pink sticky notes) and the Substack , so knows a thing or two about consistency, creativity, and getting the words down.

I started drafting this post on the first day of ’s annual #1000wordsofsummer - an equally inspiring project to inject some soul into your writing this season - and can feel myself called to lean into some of what is being explored in the podcast as part of this project. Perhaps I’ll revisit those sticky notes too.

While we’re at it, Jami’s 1000 Words book is an equally brilliant resource, offering essay after essay to remind you how and why to show up to the page.

Not all of you reading here will be a writer - aspiring or otherwise - but is there another project you want to get into this summer, that a dedicated programme of consistency might help with?

Take the inspiration where you can, and apply it in the way that feels right.

And if you’re looking for something a little extra, don’t forget there’s a workshop is readily available for you!

👩🏻‍🎨 Morning pages

I feel I’ve got back into a bit more of a rhythm with morning pages this month, and though it isn’t daily, the intention is there, and sometimes even if I am struggling to get to the page for one reason or another, I am thinking about what I would note down, and therefore tuning into my thoughts.

Yet while there is inevitably value in that level of mindfulness, I continue to be surprised at the enhanced sense of value experienced in getting those thoughts actually written down.

Because they often don’t land how or where they first appeared. The pen starts telling one story while the mind veers off into another leaving the pen to catch up. Or is it the other way around? That the pen on the page allows us to access parts of our mind that would otherwise get lost, or perhaps find another way to burst out in frustration at not being heard.

Have you experienced this as well? Or are morning pages still something that cause resistance? Come and join the conversation to share your experience, reconnect with artist dates, and explore wider creative reflections from this ongoing process …

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Before we dive in to this month’s issue, here’s a week in the life of yours truly, captured for ’s Inspiration Diaries. Through a busy week in April, still between two homes, I write about the glimmers of inspiration I noticed, cultivated and sought out each day, ensuring a thread of creativity amidst the hecticness.

I hope it might inspire a little of that for you too!

The Mood Board

Inspiration Diaries with Writer Lauren Powell

Writer and freelancer Lauren Powell reached out to me about participating in the Inspiration Diaries, and it truly made my morning when I read her message that “the magic of the Substack algorithm sent me to your publication today.” As much as the internet can be a tiring place, it’s moments like these that I’m so grateful for it, in awe of the “magic” that the algo…

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3 months ago · 6 likes · 2 comments · Brianna Schubert and Lauren Powell

👗Wearing

Having moved out of what now feels like central London means I’m close-ish to a “big Sainsbury’s” - the kind big enough to have an Argos inside, as well as as decent section of Tu clothing. While A ventured to the former recently to collect a few flat essentials, I, of course, ventured into the latter - happily walking away with two new summer staples that not only appear to be great quality for supermarket buys, but also came with a 20% discount.

The first was a pair of black sandals with gold buckle detailing, a sturdy sole and room for feet to breathe on sweaty summer days. I wore them every day over the sweltering bank holiday weekend.

The second was a butter yellow cardigan, soft as you like, that will be perfect to take out on those clear sunny days that turn into balmy but breezy evenings that ask for a little coverage on the arms and shoulders.

💄Applying

Sunscreen and aloe vera after sun.

And I tell you there is no quicker way to holiday vibes than to let those familiar scents carry you to some place delightful - even if you’re in a stuffy bathroom at home.

Although I’m an autumn/winter gal at heart, I love the sensation of the sun on my skin, and when its out I want to make the most of every opportunity to soak it up. Working a desk job doesn’t always make it easy to lie on a lounger at any given moment, but that doesn’t mean lunchtime walks or coffee-breaks-turned-ice-cream-breaks on the balcony are off the table.

Even just walking to the train station for a morning commute feels more joyful having applied sunscreen before leaving the house, enjoying the pleasure of the delicious coconut-vanilla-y scents wafting off warm skin - and better still knowing that skin is being protected.

On the flip side of the day, an evening shower followed by a slathering of after sun lotion - whether you’ve been sat out in the rays or not - feels like a welcome treat before donning some thin cotton PJs and diving into an escapist read.

No recommendations for particular brands here - use what you had for your last sunny holiday and let the fragrances call back the wonderful memories.

🎁 Gifting

May is a busy one for birthdays - mine included! - and this month’s gifting has been fun to partake in.

Between make-your-own pistachio croissants baking sets, silky summery PJs, and at-home spa treats, my hope is that the gals have enjoyed some relaxing downtime whatever the weather.

🥗 Eating

Two recommendations for great sharing plate spots this month - Megan’s, and Aram By Imad.

The first I know is nothing new to those on the brunch circuit especially, but a recent dinner with Gaby and Sarah was a delicious reminder of the full offering as we dived into sharing platers for both starters and mains. Avocado, feta, BBQ date and piri piri dips were slathered over fluffy pittas, while za’atar fries and tabbouleh were ideal accompaniments to assorted grilled meats, and the juicy olives, padron peppers and pickles didn’t go amiss either.

An easy order, and one that could have fed the 5,000.

Aram by Imad was new to me though, tucked away in Somerset House, and on a recent visit with Charlotte and Tayla, we dunked za’atar pittas into a sumptuous plate of baba ghanoj, before sampling a selection of mezze dishes and larger plates. The carrot salad, with raisins, radicchio, and a pomegranate molasses dressing, along with tahini-drizzled falafel, did me for lunch the next day too - and inspired some more salad making at home.

Recent concoctions have included green lentils with tender stem broccoli, spinach and tomatoes, dressed simply with olive oil (gallons of which A and I brought back in a suitcase from Italy last year), as well as grilled mixed peppers (red, orange, yellow) and leeks - all as good cold as they are warm, eaten as made or tossed together with some lettuce for a leafier offering.

Tofu and veggie noodle stir-fries have been in the mix too (literally fry whatever you have in sesame oil, ginger and turmeric, and mix in soy sauce and chilli flakes as you bring it all together), as well as simple spaghetti al dente with lashings of pesto - even more enjoyable with an ice cold glass of rosé and a Nancy Meyers inspired playlist to accompany the cooking.

🎭 Visiting

Adventures this month have taken me to Hammersmith for ’s Soul Pages, a gorgeous gathering of ladies all in need of some stretching and journalling - followed by a few glasses a fizz later in the evening as Amy welcomed us into her home - and cooked up a feast of curries! The event was a lovely chance to pause and reflect, and the opportunity to connect with , , Athena, , and made the cup-filling experience even richer.

Further afield, Montenegro was another stop this month for a friend’s hen weekend. I considered allowing the trip its own Meanderings installment, but feared it would descend into hen shenanigans more than cultural recommendations (in my defence this was in part because a semi-rainy weather forecast had us altering some plans!). There was however delicious food (pumpkin and asparagas risotto, and beef and truffle tagliatelle being two of my highlights) often eaten by the sea or against the hills, as the country offers similar landscapes to Albania - blue waters matched by luscious green mountains. A boat ride - for which the sun gladly came out - let us enjoy even more of this scenery, as we sipped cold prosecco and, as is customary when overseas, snacked on the local crisp offering. I’d definitely recommend a visit, and have already suggested to A we might pass through on any future trips to Albania.

Back in London, there was a trip up The Shard’s viewing platform with some of A’s family visiting the city and one celebrating a birthday. I have visited the towering triangle a few times, but never at night, and on this occasion - one of those balmy summer eves - we landed on the 68th floor as the sun was getting ready to set and enjoyed stunning views with cold drinks and plenty of photo ops, lingering to take in the scenes until the staff politely asked us to leave. A worthwhile activity for those familiar with the city as for those just passing through.

📚 Reading

I’ve enjoyed spending some time catching up on Substack reads this month, as well as reading the May issue of Red magazine cover to cover in and around the hen trip travel. Print will always be king for me, and my book stack continues to be near-toppling, but getting absorbed in the visuals as well as the words of a magazine still feels like a treat.

There is a similar experience to be found on Substack at times (though I continue to dream of a day it might all be delivered to me in print form!) and perhaps too many essays to capture all as recommendations here this month. So I’ll just give you the one I read most recently before drafting this issue, by .

Her latest piece for dives into the pretty/ugly Instagram landscape, with images that continue to convey perfection and beauty and none of the hardships of reality that come with being a modern millennial. As always with Marisa’s writing, it is raw, heartfelt, and packs a punch of honesty and truth-telling.

This essay by (of Deliciously Ella fame) which I also came across in the last few days, taking zeitgeisty book-du-jour Yesteryear (have you read it?) as a jumping off point for her own reflections of online/offline life, reads as an interesting companion piece.

Anything to share from your own little black book this month?

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Since then I have turned 32, reported for maid of honour duties on a hen weekend in Montenegro, and taken more than a handful of different commutes into central London as I adjust to no longer living in zone 2.

These four weeks have moved both fast and slow; busy days where the moon comes up before I’ve had chance to get out in the sun, but the feeling of anywhere else other than this place being our home is already feeling like a nostalgic sentiment.

For a long time I doubted this reality would ever come to be. Doubted I would ever be able to secure a mortgage. Doubted I would ever land on a location to settle. Doubted the sale really would go through, after a rollercoaster 18 months dealing with dodgy developers, mistake-prone administrative staff, fire safety requirement forms and the national scandal causing issues for buyers and sellers alike, and challenges in getting all involved in a multi-chain sale to agree on one completion date.

Although this essay won’t be the place for it, there is much to be explored in all of this, and how our experience is reflective of an incredibly challenging landscape for anyone already on, letting alone trying to get started, on the property ladder. The expense can feel scary. The forms overwhelming. The admin of it all is at least the equivalent of a part time job you need to find time for. And that’s before facing the reality of lost funds when a seller pulls out, or the risk of having to give notice on a rented property before exchanging on the purchase of a new one because of contractual timelines, or the project management required to align all of this with the delivery dates of furnishings and appliances in the hope of avoiding weeks spent sleeping on the floor or filling a whole room with dirty washing.

So why do we do it?

Why put ourselves through this ordeal and call it an aspirational milestone?

Simply, I think, to create something of our own. A place of our own. A life of our own. But it’s only in the past few months I’ve come to really appreciate what that can mean.

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A change of course

Although I grew up in a house that had a mortgage, my grandparents on both sides have been life-long renters, and so I never saw the concept of home ownership as a given. Some people did, and some people didn’t. No one way was better than the other; it was just a different way of living.

But the south Wales rental structures, social or private, my grandparents spent decades in - and for my grandfather it’s still his reality - is quite a contrast to the renters market I came to know, first as a student in Bath, then as a professional in London. The damp, the mold, the matresses that needed hoovering before you’d dare put anything on them. Grim is an understatement.

I opted for semi- or fully- furnished properties, whether with friends, strangers, or A, because investing in my own furniture without knowing how long I’d really be in any given space felt pointless. Personalisation came through posters on the walls, a blanket on the chair, fresh pairs of curtains. But it was always filling someone else’s space. Always temporary.

Most of the time I lived this way I didn’t think much of it. I accepted it as my reality because there wasn’t another choice. The dodgy landlords and scammy agencies and expensive rent were all part of what it was to live this London life I had chosen.

Maybe it was turning 30 that caused a shift. Or reading one too many home magazines. Or seeing friends embark on their own home ownership journeys. But at some point a feeling was stirred and as I was lucky enough for finances to allow me to imagine what might be possible, I struggled to look back.

Choosing a sofa all of my own to curl up on. Finding a dining table big enough to host friends and family. Picking out paint for the walls and customising wardrobes to fit our (extensive) clothing needs.

Could all of this really be mine?

The reality of the dream

I left home at 18 to study, and since then - save for some summer holidays and a stint during the first lockdown of 2020 - I’ve never moved back home. I have moved more than ten times trying to create a home, and yet I still refer to my childhood house as home because its the only place of permanence.

Until now.

For as long as we decide it to be, this place is ours. No landlords to issue an eviction notice, or agency reps dropping in for a visit unannounced. No rules on what we can or cannot do in the space. No permission to seek for getting a broken tap fixed. Yes, it’ll now be at our expense, but I’ll take that with the efficiency of being able to sort it myself rather than endure a two week approvals process.

Freedom, at last.

But this freedom has thrown up its own challenges, as we seek to balance perfectionism with pragmatism in creating a home.

Even before we moved, I tried to set my own expectations around how long it was going to take to feel the set up was complete. Until all the furniture was in, with cushions that matched the curtains, and a beauty bar set up I’ve been envisaging for the bathroom. But it really does. all. take. time. Time to search, compare, decide, order, build, rearrange. In these four weeks I thought we’d be further along than still using a bedsheet for a blind, boxes for bedside tables, and having to search through bags to uncover summer clothes now that the season has decided to land.

My books are on their shelves but in a haphazard order. The long-dreamed of sofa is still at least a month away from delivery. The ceiling lights are without shades.

Much of this is due to lack of time, and energy, not least because we spent a month or more before the move packing up and cleaning the old place, while also painting, cleaning and preparing the new one. Work and life have been busy for both A and I, and so although there is long list of things to sort and buy (okay, I have a 12 tab spreadsheet), shopping for lamps or trying to choose the handles for a wardrobe door can easily fall down the priority list.

And with that comes guilt. For me, at least. I feel I ought to pour everything I have into this process. Making it all as nice as we can as quickly as we can. I want it to feel finished so that the aesthetics match and the hard work is done and to invite people around and say, “look what we did, come and enjoy it with us!”

But it doesn’t work like that. Setting up a home isn’t an independent project, separate to everything else happening around it. A space doesn’t only become a home once the welcome mat is laid out front and the throw is set just right over the arm of the sofa.

It’s a home the moment you step over the threshold and start living in it.

Accepting the here and now

It was a home the first morning I woke up here and as I tried to dress for work, realising I needed to scout through several bags in search of underwear. It was a home the first time we marvelled at the novelty of an integrated dishwasher, stood together pressing all the buttons trying to figure out the settings. It was a home the first time we sat at eating oven pizzas and drinking wine from the local corner shop, Googling the proximity of larger supermarkets.

When people ask how we’re settling in, these past few weeks I’ve tended to respond with an honest answer; that we have a temporary set up but enough to make it feel homely. But do I need to keep caveating with this focus on temporary? Because yes we may be eating (and working) on a table kindly given to us until we find the right one for our space, and stalling on ordering wardrobes until we can both agree on the right configuration to maximise the space we have available, and constantly moving things around in the spare bedroom until we decide exactly how that space will be used and not wanting to make dents in the new carpet with something that won’t be there long term. But we are here for the long run. It is us that needs to settle into the space. Our time here is no longer temporary; it is the start of a new chapter and the length of the book will be decided by us. And so taking the time to invest in choices that feel financially, aesthetically, practically right is not a stall on settling; it is part of the story. Part of the living, nesting, in our new home.

As impatient humans, how often do we want to get to the end of something, rather than enjoy the journey? To feel the feeling of completeness, of a box being ticked, rather than to feel the feeling of doing, experiencing, even enduring? It is a tired message to note that there is so much to be gained in the getting there, and not only in taking in the view of the final destination, or the conclusion of the book, but it is a message worth repeating - not least to myself.

This nesting business will take time, and while I feel that in any spare moments I should be fixing something over here or making a decision over there, I am trying to remember that I’m also allowed to just climb into our new bed (the hotel bed as we are fondly referring to the luxury of a king size ottoman - and the only real piece of furniture we have so far managed to get in!) and read a book. There is no deadline to have this set up finished; for this investment to be complete.

On Friday night we took a sunny walk to a nearby Dunelm and managed to procure an extra set of bedding so we no longer have to wait for the one to dry after washing before re-making the bed, a drying rack for the dishes (I still have mixed feelings about the dishwasher) and some long awaited toilet brushes. It’s not all about the glamour of fabric swatches, but finding the fulfilment in these small necessities too.

This bank holiday weekend I’m determined to get some wardrobes ordered, because honestly the suitcases in the living room have outstayed their welcome, but if it takes another few weeks to land on some blinds, the sheets will suffice, and my books will survive without being in any logical order. There is more to be done, more to be enjoyed, than addressing everything on that 12 tab spreadsheet; not least sitting on the sunny balcony with an iced coffee, reflecting on this new experience in the hope of sharing some words that might resonate with you.

Is there anything you need to let go of, to be able to live in it rather than always be planning for it?

Do you have your own experiences of nesting to share?

Perhaps a reading recommendation of the matter?

Whether a question, reflection or suggestion, as always, I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

And whatever chapter you’re living through at the moment, happy navigating! x

🧭

Welcome back to this follow up series for The Artist’s Way, all about exploring what happens after those 12 glorious / arduous weeks of recovering our creativity. Catch up on the full series here.

👩🏻‍🎨 Resources to encourage and inspire

Still struggling to consider yourself an “artist”? Feeling a little lost as to what creativity even means anyway? Wondering if there’s too many real-world challenges to address to worry about finding your creative spark?

Well, look no further than 64 Million Artists to offer you a new perspective. Named for the UK population size on their founding in 2014, it was only this year I discovered the organisation and all the brilliant resources they have to offer, as my workplace sponsored one of the January Challenge prompts.

Diving in beyond this, I came across the Courageous Change Guidebook, an interactive resource for individuals or organisations looking to make a meaningful change but feeling stuck with where to start. There’s also a Toolkit for Gathering to explore local issues, a Manifesto for Transformative Workplace Culture, and a creativity pack curated in collaboration with Carers UK.

Rooted in the notion that creativity is a tool for positive social change that we can all nurture and utilise daily, spending a bit of time exploring the 64 Million Artists’ Resource Library will surely leave you feeling inspired to embrace creativity in a way that’s meaningful to you.

👩🏻‍🎨 Morning pages

After last month’s struggle with morning pages, I really tried to get back into it for April, but it was a challenge. Often I returned to the page in the evening instead of first thing, to download my thoughts before sleep, using the morning slot for other priorities.

But could I really not find even five minutes for a quick check-in with myself?

In busy seasons of life, it’s too easy to let go of the things that keep us feeling like ourselves. We might maintain the bare essentials - brushing our teeth, taking a shower - ensuring the physical is taken care of, but leaving the emotional and mental to drift a little.

April was pretty chaotic, not always in bad ways, but certainly in busy ways. Just before Easter weekend my partner and I got the keys to our new home - 18 months after we’d first started looking to buy - and from day one it was all go-go-go to get it painted, cleaned and organised before we had to leave our rented flat towards the end of the month.

This meant there was always something to do in one flat or the other, let alone for work, other commitments, or dare I say, creativity - at least in the traditional sense.

Join for more behind the scenes insights on how I’m thinking about creativity, and especially writing, through this season, and come and share reflections on your own creative journey too…

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👗 Wearing

On-duty work outfits this month have often comprised of smart wide-leg trousers and a loose shirt tucked in, while off-duty outfits for moving errands and lakeside mornings (more on these below) have been softer wide-legs (those Uniqlo DRY sweat trousers that have become a real wardrobe staple) and loose jumpers.

Both allow room for a sneaky knee high pop sock for those colder spring mornings that can be flung off for airier legs by the time the lunchtime sun is high.

These grey ones are literally decades old from River Island (my aunties before they were mine, but circa that particular Cheryl era) and I have a red Reserved pair still serving me well too for when a brighter vibe is needed.

💄 Applying

As my grappling with aging while still “young” potters along, one of the signs I am faced with daily are never ending strands of grey running through/over/under what was once a full head of brown hair.

I’m still undecided on whether to enter into a decades-long dying ritual, but in the meantime am using L’Oréal Magic Retouch Instant Root Spray. Once saved for special occasions, it’s slowly become a beauty bag go-to for a spritz between washes that manages to add texture as well as colour leaving my hair feeling a little more full.

Because we’re worth it, and all that…

🎁 Gifting

A few new baby greetings this month, and with them came a super soft elephant hand puppet, a gorgeous royal blue Peter Rabbit co-ord, more animals printed on matching hats and babygrows, and flowers for mamas.

More babies on the way this year, so if you have gift recommendations from your own giving/receiving experiences, do let me know!

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🥗 Eating

A and I enjoyed a celebratory dinner this month at The Plimsoll, toasting to getting the keys to our new home by finally visiting somewhere that’s been on the list for too long in our current neighborhood.

The pictures are lacking on account of diving straight into the delicious fare, which included giant olives each requiring several bites, plus white asparagus soup with peas, bresaola and pint nuts, and two smash Angus burgers with shared roasted potatoes. All full of flavour, and washed down with a glass of crémant for me and a Guinness for him. Truly gastro food in an old school boozer setting and very glad we found time to visit (though it did require booking three weeks ahead for a decent dinner time slot!).

For much of the rest of this whirlwind month food has often been eaten on the go, batch cooked and eaten too many times in one week (it’ll be a while before I can enjoy roasted sweet potatoes again), or tucked into at those random times when you’re not even sure if you’re hungry any more!

There was Easter too of course, which did mean a mix of Italian and Albanian delicacies enjoyed with my partner and his parents for a long Sunday lunch, including homemade lasagna, several types of meat, and a special bread made only for this very occasion. But seeing me through more of the month has been a giant Cadbury’s mini egg bar picked up on sale after the main event had been and gone!

🎭 Visiting

A pre-planned trip this month landed at the busiest of times, but was nonetheless a welcome change of scene.

A and I spent a few nights in the Lake District, between trips to other Northern cities to visit friends and their little ones. Nothing like a tiny bundle of joy to take your mind off home-moving stress - although breakfast and dinner overlooking the calmness of Lake Windermere does well for that too.

For a trip that needed laptop time as well as downtime, the Beech Hill Hotel was the perfect spot to hang back after breakfast for an extra coffee with emails, or to catch a pre-dinner rosé at the bar after wrapping up virtual calls. The spa was also a delight, feeling light and airy with not one but two jacuzzies, as well as a steam room and sauna that quite literally helped melt away the tension in my shoulders.

We wandered around nearby Bowness-on-Windermere which we favoured more than Windermere itself, and from there took a boat trip up to Ambleside and back, getting a bit of a history lesson from the tour guide as we sat back and relaxed. Grasmere was a delight to wander through, and while there we stocked up on famously delicious gingerbread at Sarah Nelson’s, plus a few more treats at Grasmere Gather, a market hall full of great pieces from local producers.

Driving around the area meant looking out at green green fields filled with fresh flowers and lambing sheep, so entering the reality of the motorway for the journey back was a mood dampener to say the least! Luckily sunshine through the windows helped soften the blow.

How have you spent sunny days this month?

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📚 Reading

I’m still working through the book stack I mentioned last month, but did treat myself to opening a new one for the trip: Writing Down the Bones, by Natalie Goldberg.

It’s been on my TBR list for years, and I recently acquired an old copy which had a lovely inscription in the front from “Mom” for “Rachel”. I’m hoping Rachel’s writing has blossomed into something wonderful since this copy was published in 2003 (is she on Substack??), and that her passing it onwards was a sign of sharing the love Mom had wanted to ignite.

Unsurprisingly, I see why it’s a classic. Easy to read with a mix of inspiration and practical tips, I’m only half way through but I know I’ll be returning to it several times in months and years to come.

Or found yourself in discussion over breakfast about the books that shaped you as a child?

Or entered the sort of library where you can not only take infinite books down off the shelves to pore over, but have them be accompanied by hot drinks and sweet treats as you do?

Perhaps you’ve dreamed of being held in such a space, before returning to the luxury of your own room, overlooking lush green hills, and taking out your journal to reflect on what you had absorbed from those pages, and what ideas that may have sparked for your work, creative or otherwise - or indeed, for your navigation of life.

Maybe you’d share these thoughts with fellow book-loving women over dinner, and learn from their reflections too. Or maybe you’d choose to dine alone, and get lost in a novel that had sat on your TBR list for years, while devouring the taste of artfully cooked local produce.

Would you feel you needed permission to do so?

To spend a weekend indulging in simple pleasures, connecting over a love of books, escaping the humdrum of everyday life by nestling into the Welsh countryside, and allowing yourself to pause, breath, rest and rejuvenate?

This is exactly what I am inviting you to join me in doing this November at the Rest & Read Country Ease Retreat, in the village of Trefeglwys, between Llanidloes and Machynlleth, Mid Wales.

No permission needed, other than from yourself to book a spot.

This needn’t be a dream escape; it’ll very much be our reality.

Yes, there is an agenda, for we know I am a planner at heart, and perhaps you are too? But if not, feel assured that ease is very much built into this weekend, and the schedule is not strict.

The only policy we feel rather strongly about is the one to go back to bed.

Even if you’re an early riser.

Wake and potter around as you will, then get back under the covers to journal, read, perhaps work on your own writing project. Maybe you’ll just look out of the window and daydream. We’ll deliver a warm cuppa to your door to enjoy with your morning resting.

To be co-hosting this weekend retreat, across November 13th - 16th, with the wonderful , Founder of Ease Retreats, feels like a wonderful development in my own creative work, and I’d love to share the sense of inspiration that these weekends inject with you.

Tanya and I met not even two years ago, and although we are twenty years apart in age, almost immediately felt like kindred spirits. A Substack connection led to an IRL coffee date, and our creative collaborations grew from there.

I started supporting behind the scenes with Ease Retreats, and at some weekend and day retreats. I loved the ethos of what Tanya had created, and her openness for me to add my own ideas to these beautiful experiences.

We started a series of recorded conversations too - you might have listened in? - and there’s more of these to come this year. In the meantime, here’s a Substack Live we did last month, when we announced our first guest author for the retreat and shared more about what to expect…

This retreat is the first I am officially co-hosting with Tanya, meaning we have been equal partners in the creative process of designing this experience, deciding which authors and books to feature, how to best use the incredible space we’ll be hosting at, and thinking up all the fun treats we can include in the goody bags!

I am so excited to welcome guests to our homeland of Wales this autumn, and to be curating this gathering of women to ensure nourishment, engagement, and connection - with ourselves as much as anyone else.

Find all the retreat details here 📚

I know different people will approach a retreat experience in different ways.

For some, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.

For others, it’s a regular part of their annual rhythm.

Some come to fill up their cup. Others to expand their mind. Or to spark new inspiration in their creative / personal / professional lives.

I like to think we’ll be offering something for all on this Rest & Read Retreat.

But how do you know if a retreat if for you?

Two years ago I turned 30, and had planned to go on a yoga retreat as a birthday present to myself. I imagined it would be a once in a lifetime experience - even as someone who’d been practicing yoga for two decades - but I knew within day one it wouldn’t be the last time I would let myself retreat.

Although I was looking for a retreat experience that year, it took a lot of research to find the right one for me; where I could have my own room, my food particularities catered for, in a warm destination, that left me with plenty of free time around the yoga and related workshops too. And of course, it had to work for my budget.

I did a lot of online research, spoke to yogis who I knew taught at retreats, and let friends know I was on the look out so they could share any recommendations too.

It was a real community moment, and I’m so grateful for all the connections I made through that time, even before I got to the retreat itself.

If you’re wondering whether this Rest & Read Retreat is the right experience for you this year, please do reach out for an informal chat, or share any questions you have. Even if it’s about the logistics of getting to the location, the comfiness of the beds, or whether or not to bring your walking boots. I’d be happy to help.

And if you know instinctively this isn’t the weekend for you, perhaps share it with a friend, colleague or family member? It might just be exactly what they need - even if they don’t know it yet!

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And now to share more of the juicy details!

I’m delighted to announce that we have not one, not two, but three (!) guest authors lined up for Q&As across the weekend, and their books we are featuring will be gifted to all our guests.

We’ll be chatting to:

📕 , about Bookish and and so much more!

📗 , about what will surely be a book club cult classic, This Book Made Me Think Of You, and perhaps get a sneak insight into her next project!

📙 Francesca Reece, about Glass Houses, Welsh literature, and representing the culture in story.

There’ll be plenty of opportunity to ask your questions, about the books themselves, the writing process, or sources of inspiration for wonderful storytelling.

Am I whetting your appetite for all this bookish fun yet?

Well, you needn’t just take my word for it.

Earlier this month, insights from our last Rest & Read Coastal Retreat were spotted in Bloomberg, with beautiful words shared by author and journalist Alice Robb, who joined us as a guest in West Wales.

Alice really highlighted the value of investing in such a weekend, and reflects warmly on the ethos of an Ease Retreat that invites guests to show up as they are, take part in as much or as little as they like, and above all else really prioritises downtime - whatever that might mean for you, in that particular moment…

“So it was refreshing when, one morning in the depths of February, I sat down at a table laid with pastries and fruit, ignored the women already eating breakfast and opened Motherland, Julia Ioffe’s history of 20th century Russia, which, despite its substantial heft, I’d been carrying around for weeks.”

“At my own retreat in Wales, our dinner conversation veered easily from favorite bookstores to the virtues of first-person narration to who’d been disappointed by their husband.”

“I arrived in Wales to find a gift bag with a scented candle and a box of chocolate truffles. The bathrooms included bowls of decorative seashells and jars of pink Epsom salts. Heat blasted throughout the house, and everyone spoke in soft voices. I felt as if I was at some kind of patriarchy rehab.”

“Over the course of the weekend, I made it through only about 100 pages of Motherland. But I left with clarity about what I actually need to concentrate. On the train home, I put my phone on airplane mode and read two more chapters. When I looked up and saw the passengers around me immersed in their various devices, I realized how much I missed the women I’d just left.”

and also both shared inspiring reflections from that weekend, and what it sparked for them. Read more from Nicola here and Anne here.

We have ten rooms in total for the November retreat, at the delightful Original Hideaways farm, and we already have a couple of those booked up, happily by guests returning for another Ease Retreat!

Although we’d recommend a room of your own, some are available for double occupancy, so if you’d like to come along with a friend or family member, just let us know and we can chat through your options. There are some ground floor fully accessible rooms too so if you have specific access needs we are ready to find the right room for you.

We’re also happy to chat about payment plans, to help make the financial side as manageable as possible. This was an aspect I really appreciated when booking my first retreat experience a couple of years ago.

Plus, paid subscribers to are entitled to a 10% discount on any of the available rooms.

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Feel free to drop any questions in the comments, send me a DM, or reply to this email. You can also reach out directly to . We’re all ears.

And in the meantime, tell me, what three books would you take on your dream reading retreat?

Because why not indulge each other in building our TBR piles that bit higher!

Leave a comment

P.S. if you’re looking for a new read, this week I’ve added more books to the selection from which subscribers can choose a free gift, from my shelf to yours, when upgrading to paid!

You can find the full list available here. 📚

As always, thank you for supporting my work here, and happy navigating 🧭 x

Welcome back to this follow up series for The Artist’s Way, all about exploring what happens after those 12 glorious / arduous weeks of recovering our creativity. Catch up on Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

👩🏻‍🎨 Resources to encourage and inspire

For many of us, our creative projects are something we’re doing on the side, rather than as a full time gig. Maybe some of us actually have a day job in the creative industries, but still have outside interests in another field, or are working on projects that don’t sit under the job spec.

Learning how other people do this, how they manage different workstreams and decide when it’s time to steer the side project into the middle lane, is a great way to muster up some inspiration - especially when you can tune into a conversation about it while doing mundane chores like washing the dishes.

In recent months one of my new favourite weekly podcasts has been ’s The Side Quest, on which she interviews a fellow side quester on the ups and downs of navigating it all, and shares her own insights along the way. The 30 minute format is short enough to squeeze in and long enough that you can take something away.

Episodes have featured a few familiar Substack voices including , , as well as Sade Akindele from . I won’t pretend I didn’t totally love hearing a Welsh valleys accent though in the recent episode with music producer and sound engineer Lewis John.

If you’re looking for some fresh insights to spark new ideas of your own, this is a podcast for you.

👩🏻‍🎨 Morning pages

Morning pages have taken a bit of a battering this past month and I’ve felt it. Yoga has struggled to get a look in too. It’s been a busy one, of trips, flat-buying admin and planning, changes at work, and yet more to navigate, and when time is tight and the to-do list becomes extra long, journalling is often one of the first things to drop off.

But it shouldn’t be.

Settle in for more on why, and how, plus finding creative inspiration outside of artist dates, and taking control of our work - in more ways than one. Then of course, come and share how The Artist’s Way experience is going for you?

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Read more

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👗Wearing

So spring has sprung but obviously in a way that it can still feel wintery the day after the sunniest of afternoons. Not an easy balance to strike for wardrobe choices then, but my go-to strategy this time of year is to wear brighter colours with plenty of layers.

Those pink and green jumpers from yesteryear are still on rotation, and for dinner recently I wore this ol’ yellow pussybow tie dress - with matching yellow clutch - over long square-toe black boots (the kind not made for walking and so ideal for dinner-only occasions). A winter coat was still needed (the long vintage number I wrote about here worked perfectly) but the yellow felt like a much needed nod to brighter days ahead.

I’ve also been in the market for some new flat shoes now that my feet are excited to venture out of boots. A pair of tan Kurt Geiger loafers were a steal at TKMaxx and thanks to the airy cushioned sole have already had several outings in the past week or so - mainly with jeans, under which knee-high pop socks reside. Carry on and call me a granny; I’d still rather ward off the extra warmth! I can’t find the exact ones online but something like this in a soft tan leather - though for a third of the price.

While drafting this month’s issue, the other night I dreamt I was wearing butter yellow and lavender - so I’m taking that as a nudge to inject some pastels into my wardrobe for fresh spring looks.

💄 Applying

If you’re in the market for a new face exfoliator, might I recommend the Beauty of Joseon Apricot Blossom Peeling Gel for some spring-like refreshment?

Dab a pea sized dollop on your fingertips and circle onto clean, dry skin to feel the “peeling” happen in real time but in the most gentle way. Wash away with warm water once the gel is all rubbed in, and leave your bathroom with super soft skin.

Use a couple of times a week or whenever you want to inhale the delicious scent.

🎁 Gifting

If you’re waiting for an update on The Devil Wears Prada Musical, I’ll not delay any further.

Darling, it was fabulous.

Without giving away spoilers, expect all the mic drop one-liners from the movie woven among song and dance, with music by Elton John and Desperate Housewives’ Vanessa Williams giving it large as Ms Priestley. The Manhattan backdrop gives a taste of noughties New York before a sparkling Eiffel Tower sets the scene for all the Paris Fashion Week shenanigans.

Iconic outfits (not withstanding that cerulean blue jumper) offer a treat for the eyes while a tuneful cast will get your feet tapping. Fellow millennial girlies who grew up with the Andy Sachs writer dream (see also: Carrie Bradshaw, Andie Anderson, Jenna Rink) will have their heartstrings pulled at the reminder of the women we once looked up to - and perhaps still do? (The sequel movie is out in May and I’m curious to see if Substack gets a mention in this new age of media...)

The threatre was packed, with groups of women, mother and daughter duos (like me and my Mam) but plenty of couples too. If you loved the movie, and have someone in your life who loved it too, get a couple of tickets for the next celebration and take them to see this incarnation. There’s pre-show fun to be had (perhaps after dinner nearby!) with great photo opportunities all around the foyer, and a champagne bar if you want to take the evening up a notch.

It’s a yes from me.

That’s all.

🥗 Eating

There’s been a few impromptu dinners out this month but I’ll give a shout out to Soho’s Belt Noodles.

It came at the recommendation of a friend for a quick pre-theatre bite (more on this show experience below) and it did the job, and then some.

I’d recommend booking in advance unless you’re happy to wait in line with a ticket for the next available table, and perhaps scan the menu in advance to help navigate the iPad version presented to you once seated.

We opted for hot oil noodle bowls - crispy tofu for me, chicken for her - and I’ve never seen noodles like them. Easily 2.5 inches wide, folded over and into each other, sprinkled with chilli flakes and slices and bean sprouts with some pak choy nestled in too. The tofu was cooked to crisp perfection in fun triangle pieces - though I’ll not pretend the whole dish was a little challenging to devour with chop sticks.

Don’t worry, I still managed to polish off the lot.

To nibble on the side were veggie spring rolls and crispy fried chicken bites with a tasty side sauce, ideal for snacking while chatting.

Tables around us made use of the grills that centre each table, turning meat and veggie skewers, potato slices, with more sides to go with them. A cool experience for some; a bit too much like hard work for us.

The vibe is somewhat rough and ready (the front door is like walking into a meat packing warehouse fridge) and the early evening busyness meant it felt like the staff wanted us in and out please and thank you.

Worth it though.

🎭 Visiting

So that theatre trip after said noodles happened when a friend offered me a spare ticket to go see The Book of Mormon as her husband was no longer able to make it. I was free and wanted to see her, but I’d always had reservations about that particular musical because while I can get on board with some satirical black humour, “comedy” that ventures into religion and race is not really my jam.

But, I thought, this is an award-winning show - like actual Tony Awards - so how bad could it really be?

Reader, this was not the musical for me.

And honestly, I am truly wondering how it is the musical for anyone.

Yes there are a couple of catchy tunes that nestle in as a earworm, and okay maybe a few funny moments where joke lands well on account of their reflection of reality. But I left with an aching jaw from all the clenching, amid stress-eating a box of Maltesers with my pal who was equally flummoxed as to what we were watching.

I’m all for being experimental with art, but weaving themes like FGM and child molestation into showtunes I just found a bit... distasteful? To say the least.

Much of the audience clearly disagreed, as the raucous laughter around the theatre demonstrated, though I’m sure at least a couple were nervous outbursts as we rattled through the scenes of a couple of Mormon missionaries out in Uganda, and the townspeople they meet there.

Devil Wears Prada wasn’t perfect. The story was of the nothing-tastes-as-good-as-skinny/Paris-feels era and that still comes through in the show, though now with a laugh at the expense of the poor Emily who hasn’t yet learned that actually a lot of things taste just as good if not better. Buttery croissants for one.

But I struggled to catch the laughs in The Book of Mormon. I later read that it’s written by the team behind South Park, which I never watched but was always aware of it’s banter-on-the-edge tendencies.

I’ve since asked around friends who have seen - end enjoyed - the show, and read a few reviews from its launch, but I still can’t figure out what I’m missing. Why does everyone think it’s so great and I just - can’t?

Have you seen it? Do you have thoughts? Please, whichever side of the Marmite jar you sit on, do share.

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Elsewhere, visits have been furniture focused, browsing out of town retail parks and centrally located department stores and side streets of boutiques, all in the name practical and metaphorical inspiration for kitting out a home that with any luck my partner and I will be holding the keys to before you can say Happy Easter.

It’s been a long time coming - 18 months since we first started looking, 8 months since the seller pulled out of the 7 month process we were in last year - and so this time around it still doesn’t quite feel real yet.

But I have a multi-tab spreadsheet and a stack of home magazines and more photos of home furnishings than I’ll ever know what to do with.

The excuse to peruse furniture shops has also given me a new found appreciation for what they can be; that is, an interactive exhibition. You get to saunter around show rooms that often resemble art installations, but with the added fun of being able to sit and lie and drape one swatch over another to see what that does for the ambiance.

If you think I’m joking, I’m not. Seriously, try it with a friend next time you want to catch up - grab a coffee, and head for a browse along Tottenham Court Road. Note you will need approximately six hours for Heal’s alone, but it’s a cheap day out... unless you fall victim to a couple of plush cushions or swanky candlesticks.

Also, in case you missed it, I ventured over to Paris for a weekend this month and shared some observations you might enjoy!

📚 Reading

I have a stack full of books on the go at the moment, including It’s Not Always Depression, Looking at Women Looking at War, and At The Existentialist Cafe. They all have so much to offer in their own way, and I’d recommend them all to the right reader for different reasons.

But one night last week, after an exhausting day, I needed some escapism and only fiction would do, so I picked up L.A. Weather which I’d bought in Canada last year. I’m still pretty early on, but it took me way to another world as I snuggled under the duvet listening to a howling winter wind on a supposedly spring night, and once again I was reminded of why books are such an important lifeline.

Have you picked up any books that have felt that way lately?

I am also reading a Welsh novelist’s second book ahead of an exciting announcement coming soon related to the Rest & Read Country Retreat I am co-hosting with this November. Stay tuned - and in the meantime you can find more details here. Why not add the dates into your little black book?

If this postcard gets cut off in your inbox, head to the website or app to read in full 🧭

As regular readers will know, I was lucky enough to spend a weekend in Paris earlier this month, at the invite of for their International Women’s Day (IWD) / 6th birthday party celebration. I shared more about my work with this feminist media platform and community in the most recent Artist’s Way update, as it has been a key part of my creative exploration in recent years, and this opportunity gave me chance to spend some time wandering the cobbled Parisian streets in and around catching up with the team (in person - what a treat!) and welcoming revellers to women-owned wine bar Briquet for the party.

The productivity devil ever on my one shoulder wanted me to ‘maximise’ my time in the city by ticking off a few cultural spots I hadn’t yet got around to in my previous visits while also nudging me to get some writing done while I was at it. The more sensible angel on the opposite shoulder wisely encouraged me to lean into the lazy ethos for the weekend and embrace a slightly slower pace during my visit; attempting perhaps to actually live a little like a Parisian rather than do/see as much as one visitor possibly can.

Listening to the later meant I came home with my cup more filled than drained despite the late nights and knowing I had the day job to wake up for on Monday morning.

And so, in a nod to IWD on March 8th, in no particular order here are eight observations-cum-pieces-of-advice from a trip in which I did much people-watching, window-browsing, and solo-dining.

1. Find your people

This trip didn’t happen by accident. It happened because over five years ago I responded to a submissions call out on Twitter (RIP) when I was trying to find my way into writing more publicly, and when that submission got accepted it started a rippling timeline of creative pursuits with Lazy Women - sometimes being in the thick of it, and sometimes reading and cheering from afar.

The online connections turned into IRL connections with women from across Europe and beyond, with enough of a shared vibe that we could drop into a Friday night dinner and order sharing plates like we’d known each other for years.

No one thought it was odd that I had plans to wander the city alone, but an impromptu lunch with another member of the team on arriving was equally a lovely welcome.

As we prepped for the Saturday night event - which included stand up comedians, live musicians, and DJ sets - everyone played a part in blowing up balloons, hanging decorations, and arranging the seating for the soirée.

We laughed at how we all feel aligned with the ethos of Lazy Women, highlighting the personal as political but that we’re allowed to put our feet up too, and yet we are all pretty busy women with multiple interests, jobs, side hustles, creative pursuits, and real life responsibilities to juggle. All the more reason to create an evening for laughing, dancing, and wine-drinking while sharing experiences and making new connections.

2. Dress to be seen

This isn’t news, but Parisians don’t mess around on the fashion front. Outfit envy - or admiration, as I like to frame it - is everywhere, and soaking up that effortlessly curated energy was something I was more than happy to indulge in.

The splash of colour in a neck scarf. The designer bag with a casual jean. The layering that gives a hi-low offering all once. Breakfast and dinner at the bistro? No problem.

These gals - and guys - are dressing to be seen. Not to impress, necessarily, but to say something without saying anything.

It’s self-empowering, I think, to dress with intention. Allowing yourself the time to put something together that feels and looks good. And that’s about practicality as much as it’s about style, or fashion. No one hobbling around in heels too high is looking chic.

As I’ve commented before from people-watching in Italy, there’s no athleisure in these continental parts. Nothing that suggests they might not have fully changed out of PJs to pop to the shop. I’m sure there are days when they can’t be bothered, but maybe they’ve nailed a simple uniform of pulled-together-ness that it’s easy to create even on the sleepiest of mornings?

I’m wondering what that looks like for me…

But I’m also reflecting on how it feels to dress, and therefore live, as such, without it being for show beyond the there and then.

Dressing to be seen, yes, by ourselves as well as others; but not to be photographed and Instagram-ed or Pinterest-ed. So many of the women - and their outfits - that I noticed were reminiscent of the kind of image I might scroll by and save on Pinterest myself, and indeed the outfits I chose to wear through the weekend were likely influenced by this, and by the idea of what is considered a chic or stylish outfit one might wear while wandering the streets of Paris.

But these women were just living; they weren’t being captured on film or phone, for likes or shares or affiliate deals. They were just having lunch with a friend, or coming out of Monoprix, or trying to bundle a couple of kids onto the bus.

Don’t get me wrong, there were also plenty of influencer-types posing for endless shots on the bridges of the Seine, beret perfectly positioned and single leg pop no doubt giving them cramp. But they stood out for a whole other reason - and I observe without judgement, but I did wonder if they were actually enjoying what the city has to offer or just concerned with all the angles.

I wasn’t being photographed (aside from at the party - thanks to Gretchen!), nor photographing myself, save for one snap on the way out of the building I was staying in because it did feel a shame not to use the massive mirror. Did that mean I felt more or less like those on-screen Pinterest women? And does seeking to feel the way an image manages to portray provide a healthy dose of inspiration or an ideal that actually removes us from reality? It all got a bit meta in my mind, as I sat enjoying my petite déjeuner and reading about existentialism.

For more on this thread, do tune into . There’s certainly more to what we chose to clothe ourselves in than meets the eye.

3. Look up, down and all around

I have visited Paris a few times so it’s familiar enough that I have a general sense of my bearings, but not so much that if I’m trying to get to somewhere specific, I don’t need regular glances at Google maps. Conscious of the perils of both pick-pocketing and screen-time, during the trip I tried to limit the amount of time I spent with eyes on my phone, and once I’d targeted a general direction or area to navigate, let myself explore in a more analogue way.

I didn’t put in headphones, and I didn’t miss listening to anything in the way I would if I were walking in London.

I was just really present. Being unfamiliar enough with a place to feel as though every door, every corner, every tree has something new to offer, yet feeling safe and welcome enough to wander freely is not always an easy balance to find - but I was grateful to have found the sweet spot through this weekend.

I noticed the detail of the shutters on tall buildings, the table cloths decorating the streets outside bistros, a lantern hung from a lamppost lit by its light.

Much of these small but beautiful sights are of course available all round London too, in their own way, and surely wherever you are reading this from. But rarely do I take the time to appreciate them, and I’d bet you don’t either.

So often I am doing something while walking - replying to messages, talking on the phone, planning how I’m going to approach that meeting - that I’m not really looking, experiencing, taking in my surroundings. I’m going from A to B and ‘being productive’ while I do.

The forced mindfulness of curiosity felt welcome, and I am reflecting on how to bring more of it into ordinary life.

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4. Ask around and be prepared to pivot

I had some tentative solo plans for the weekend for where I thought I might visit, including Foundation Louis Vuitton which has long been on my list, and also the Petit Palais whose Café 1902 I’d heard was worth a stop off too. But as I was keen to go with the flow, I didn’t pin myself to anything concrete beyond activities with Lazy Women.

As it turned out, over Friday night dinner, - whose new Substack is a must read for anyone keen to be in the know on the latest in Paris trends - recommended the Musée de la Vie Romantique which was the perfect dose of culture for Saturday afternoon, complete with a garden for post-art-appreciation coffee sipping and people-watching between leafing through pages of a book.

Sunday afternoon in the city offered up glorious sunshine, and my indoor plans felt like they’d be better laid aside in place of meandering walks to soak in the vitamin D, and finding the perfect spot for an al fresco lunch with a view of the Eiffel Tower. A glass of chilled rosé was the cherry on top.

I accepted that the museums are going nowhere, and with any luck it won’t be my last time in the city.

That said, if you’re visiting this spring, another fellow Lazy Woman recently shared this great round up of interesting Paris exhibitions.

As someone who is typically a meticulous planner, it felt good to throw a little caution to the wind, and have a rather lovely time while I was at it.

5. Keep a wish list handy

I always keep a note in my phone for items I want to buy and add to it whenever the inspiration strikes. It might be a specific link, or a general idea for a new something or other. This helps to avoid impulse buys (it usually goes on the list for consideration before it goes in my basket) but also means that when the call for a shopping spree comes, there’s usually at least one or two things from the list I genuinely want and feel I can therefore buy guilt free.

As I browsed the boutiques around Le Marais, Montmartre, Les Halles, much window shopping was done for items I could either not afford or couldn’t justify the cost for. But consulting my list meant I could indulge in the purchasing fun too, coming home with a quality ‘basic’ black cardigan (after noticing recently how bobbled my old one had got) and a light blue striped shirt perfect for spring but still with enough coverage that it works well for this in-between seasons moment.

Shopping in Paris? Why, of course darling!

6. Scratch the itch

Sometimes there’s something we want to do but feel like maybe we shouldn’t and in denying ourselves the desire only builds more. Sometimes we have longed for something for so long and the reality is different to the anticipated experience, but was worth doing anyway rather than never knowing.

I’m not saying we should fully lean into any and all desires regardless of the likely repercussions, but often the innocent ones causing an itch deserve a little scratch.

I’ll stop talking in riddles and tell you that for me this looked like reluctantly standing in a queue to enter Shakespeare and Company having headed straight there as my first stop because of course I needed a new book for the weekend. It meant getting the second breakfast croissant to eat as I roamed after I’d finished my petite déjeuner. It meant lunchtime rosé with a sit down meal.

Humble indulgences, adding up to a whole lot of satisfying joy.

7. Use travel time wisely

Travel time need not be lost time, and can indeed set the tone for the trip/day/next activity if spent intentionally.

I took the Eurostar to Paris from London and in fact have never travelled any other way to the city (leaving aside an overnight coach for a school trip to Disneyland Paris when I was about 12 - the less said the better). If there isn’t a good deal on it can be on the expensive side, but compared to flights for which I’d need to add an under seat carry-on bag to the cost anyway, it balanced out better to take the train. Leave from the centre of one city and arrive in the centre of another. Ideal.

Pre-departure I wrote my morning pages with a Pret coffee, before settling in on the train to work on a Substack piece that was due to go out that weekend. I had worried I might not have time to finish it in time before realising that the journey over would be a good opportunity to write.

Tip: if you tend to draft online, have an offline area that works well and you can transfer over from later, so you need not rely on strong wifi.

I had almost two hours of writing and editing, before a final 30 minutes for some planning, map perusing, and refreshing my bearings before I arrived.

When travelling around while there, usually on the bus if I wasn’t walking, or the metro for longer distances, I did very little other than observe and try to be present. In London I am usually using the commute to work or elsewhere to read, reply to messages, or catch up on emails. It feels productive, and I like to feel productive. But staying tuned in on a bus travelling through one arrondissement into another was a great way to notice details about the city I’d have otherwise missed, if my nose was in a book exploring details of another kind.

On the return journey to London, I was looking for more of a Sunday night wind down vibe but to still make the most of my time before the reality of the week ahead once again commenced on Monday morning. This looked like a combination of catching up on messages I’d left unread over the weekend, before poring over some home magazines for furniture and decor inspiration … more on this soon!

I’d even picked up some chic post-its in Paris; all the better for making notes with.

8. Shape shift time

Time moved differently over this weekend. At once fast and slow. The days felt as though they really did stretch out before me, welcomely, and by taking the pressure off of where I had to be or what I had to be doing, I felt myself flowing through perhaps a more natural rhythm.

My main hope for the weekend was that it be cup-filling, with doses of inspiration injected throughout, and I think that brief was met.

I wonder if the shape shifting of time I felt, compared to how a weekend at home can fly by in a flash, had more to do with being in a different city, or the mindset I took with me, or the way the sun shone over the Seine and made the water twinkle. Maybe a combination of it all. Of not having a to-do list to work through, or chores to tick off, or work that required a several hours at a laptop.

As much as I have wished for more, there will only ever be 24 hours in the day. And there’s a whole lot of stuff to fill them with. But I’m continuing to think about how adding in less might feel like more, and how being intentional about injecting some nuance or newness into the daily grind could be a game changer for how time physically feels.

And let’s not forget to tie a cute neck scarf while I’m at it of course.

À bientôt! x

👩🏻‍🎨 Resources to encourage and inspire

Have you found your creativity sparked by the growing promise of longer days, or has the emerging spring busyness felt like more of a creative hindrance? I have seen both sides of the coin this past month, feeling creatively adventurous and at times a little lost in the weeds of the to do list. Writing always helps the latter, but it’s also good to remind myself it need not always be the focus of the former.

A highlight of the month - creatively and otherwise - was delivering Navigating The Artist’s Way with Ease: A Practical Workshop for Creative Souls, with this community. Preparing for the workshop, setting myself up with a full pot of coffee and books and notes and managing the time to work through 12 weeks in 3 hours (yes, really!) felt fulfilling in so many ways - and that’s before acknowledging all the wonderful inspiration I could take away from the guests who joined us live.

Having join as a special guest was great to get a different perspective on our experiences of doing The Artist’s Way, as well as sharing how much we’re both enjoying The Daily Artist’s Way this year.

If you couldn’t make the workshop live, the recording is now available for paid subscribers here. Set aside 3 hours if you can, but you could even dip in and out 12 times to work through each week bit by bit as I cue each time we dive into a new one. Breaks are built in, as is time to actually get to work on thinking/journalling/planning/doing.

Let me know if you’d be keen to join live on a future date - if there’s enough interest we may run round two!

If you’re in the habit of consuming more than creating, know that you are not alone, but also know that there’s many ways to evolve out of it. recently shared 38 of them, often focused around being able to take something away from what we are reading/watching/listening to etc, so it’s less about ditching the literature / movies / podcasts we genuinely enjoy consuming, but thinking about how we can engage more mindfully and leaning into creating as part of that practice. That could mean writing a summary of the plot line or finding a point we disagree with in an essay or limiting to one tab at a time. Lots to ponder and try out here - do take a look.

👩🏻‍🎨 Morning pages

Since committing to one-page morning pages I’ve continued to find it pretty easy to get down some thoughts - sometimes cohesive, often whirring - early-ish in the morning. One page sometimes naturally spills into two or three, but like getting yourself out the house for a five minute jog instead of a 5k run, once you get going its likely your legs/hands will take you away for longer than you envisaged they could.

Since gifted me The Daily Artist’s Way at the Rest & Read coastal retreat last month, I have been reading a page first before opening my journal, and using the themes and prompts as a jumping off point. This has been great to explore my inner creativity in new ways, and indeed my commitment to this next steps adventure.

If you struggle to find an ‘in’ with your daily pages, I find opening with where I am a helpful way to settle in - even if it’s often in the same chair at the same table or sat up in bed etc.

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This 3-hour practical workshop explores The Artist’s Way, one chapter at a time, diving into all 12 themes of this infamous book by Julia Cameron. You’ll work through an activity from each week, and engage in some reflective journalling throughout, as well as gather prompts for your morning pages - or anytime pages!

With even more inspiration from special guest and journalling queen Tanya Lynch, this workshop is an invitation to think, dream, explore and do.

Whether you’ve done The Artist’s Way several times already, tried but struggled to complete it, or never even heard of it, if your soul is called to creativity in any form then come along and see what this experience offers up for you.

​Breaks are built into the session, and all you need is yourself, your favourite notebook and a pen.

You might want to have a copy of the book to hand, but don’t worry if you don’t. All prompts and activities are explained throughout.

Set aside 3 hours if you can, but you could even dip in and out 12 times to work through each week bit by bit as I cue each time we dive into a new one.

I lead you through this guided workshop not as an expert or teacher, but as a facilitator for this creative work. Yours and mine. I want this to feel like an easy way into something that can feel quite vast, and leave you feeling equipped to dive in deeper on your own schedule.

If you have any questions about the workshop or how to access, don’t hesitate to reach out.

Enjoy! x

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And to my fellow Welshies, may I wish you a very happy St David’s Day / Dydd Gŵyl Dewi hapus, filled with Welsh cakes for your coffi and bara brith for your te and cawl for your cinio. Cymru am byth!🌼

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👗 Wearing

I’m really enjoying wearing a denim mini skirt at the moment, specifically this one from Tommy Hilfiger with gold buttons joining up the front. It’s an old fashioned mini skirt by which I mean it sits above the knee but does not the skim above the derrière like the modern micros (my dear Gen Z girlies, how and why do ya do it?).

It’s only been in my wardrobe since Christmas (though is apparently no longer available, at least online!) but has quickly become a staple, working well with jumpers over or under, shirts buttoned up and tucked in, and welcomes long tall boots or flat loafers sported with tights. I like the hem line balance as it peeks out below a long blazer, or the contrast of an ankle skimming coat cloaking most of it away.

Crucially these shiny buttons are not diggers in nor gapers open; they sit together neatly and comfortably for the duration of the wear and that alone may make this skirt a staple for a long time to come.

💄 Applying

When it comes to sheet masks I know K-beauty has perhaps deservedly been all the rage for some time, but personally I think it’s hard to beat the Champneys selection for something soothing to apply while you lie back in the bath and get into a good magazine.

Lucky for me I am often treated to a selection pack at birthdays or Christmas and enjoy working through the choices of moisturising, soothing, cooling offerings during ensuring months.

As a bonus, there is always plenty of serum left in the packet that comes in handy for pre-bed application in the nights that follow one’s designated pamper evening.

🎁 Gifting

Gifting this month has come in the form of vouchers for a favourite bakery-cum-restaurant (Jolene) for the recipient to enjoy a treat when I haven’t been there to treat them myself, and for another, tickets to bring us together, to see The Devil Wears Prada Musical at the Dominion Theatre.

Will it be as good as the movie? Big (long, black, Chanel) boots to fill.

Stay tuned for next month’s groundbreaking florals for Spring issue.

🥗 Eating

After talking about wanting to go since it opened sometime last year, my partner A and I finally made it to our (not so new) local Indian eatery. Billed as a gastro pub, I wonder if this had more to do with the planning application than the venue vision as although The Great Indian has a well stocked bar, the vibe is definitely more restaurant than somewhere you’d pop in for a pint and perhaps a fancy scotch egg.

The food itself was delicious, a menu (by Surjan Singh) packed with interesting flavour combinations, and great cocktails to match - I went for the Imli Margarita complete with black lava salt around the rim. The table for two however struggled to host more than a plate and glass each, let alone our sharing starters of masala aubergine, samosa chaat, a triple-layer chutney for puffiest smoked poppadums’ I’ve ever tasted - and that was before the lamb biryani and coconut vegetable curry!

Certainly worth a trip if you’re in the area, but do ask for a bigger table. Worth checking out their new sharer menu and lunchtime offering too.

Elsewhere, I somewhat begrudgingly but acceptingly paid over £5 for a loaf of bread at the ever-tempting aforementioned Jolene - but oh was it worth it. Picking up the oat porridge sourdough loaf fresh after a yoga class, it was still warm when I unwrapped it at home, and fell apart in the most beautiful way as I sliced into it. I had planned to toast a couple of slices for breakfast that morning but couldn’t risk losing a rather magical ‘porridge-y’ consistency, and so I slathered on some deliciously smooth peanut butter topped with black cherry jam and devoured the fresh bake.

Is your mouth watering yet? I’m off to buy another loaf ...

It was also pancake day this month of course, and although it fell on a busy Tuesday, I made a point of rustling up some batter at lunchtime to get a stack of twelve plated up before my afternoon meetings started. As I remember being the case last year, I once again asked myself why I don’t make the classic crêpes more often, given how simple they are to pull together and how versatile they are in the toppings or fillings they welcome.

Most of ours were devoured with strawberries and Nutella, but there’s always a place for the classic lemon and sugar, or indeed a drizzle of runny honey.

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🎭 Visiting

A couple of trips out of the city for me this month, first to West Wales for the wonderful Rest & Read Coastal retreat with . It was a pleasure to settle back in at the beach house, always being able to hear the waves, even when it’s so dark outside all you can see is the stars that shine above them, and spend time in the company of interesting women happily eager to chat books all day long.

We dipped in the sea, we heated up in the sauna, we lounged over breakfasts, lunches and dinners in between reading by the fire, nestling in for journalling workshops, and getting to chat with authors Lucy Clarke and about their books featured in the weekend retreat.

The following weekend, A and I had a little Valentine’s escape. He’d found a great offer for Pendley Manor in Tring, Hertfordshire, complete with spa, and it was my shout to bypass the expensive Valentine’s dinner experience to instead enjoy a leisurely lunch in the local town before check-in (do check out The Akeman), so that on arrival we could maximise relaxing spa time.

The room was luxuriously large for the two of us, with a table and two chairs, a chaise with a dedicated reading light, and a handy ottoman at the bottom of the bed which we’ve now decided we’d like for our home one day too.

After settling in, we ventured down to the pool in white fluffy robes and flip flops, alternating between swims and visits to the steam room and sauna, before some relaxation on the lounge beds, overlooking the luscious green grounds. It was initially busier than anticipated but it gradually emptied as I lost myself in a glossy magazine, and later we were left with the whole space to enjoy, just the two of us. Luxury indeed. Later we had a small nibble, and a nightcap at the Shakespeare Bar.

The following morning A was up and out to the gym while I stayed in bed to write, before we headed to breakfast together indulging in never-ending courses of the cooked staples alongside pastries, pancakes, waffles, fruit, and several coffees. Thankfully, despite the rainy weather, the grounds provided some much needed space to walk off the morning decadence, not without stopping to admire some feathered friends.

📚 Reading

Truth Like Water is the debut novel from and the book we collectively read at the retreat in West Wales. Filled with an air of mystery, alongside sorrow and heartache, and a reckoning around how can our dreams live in parallel to our realities, this story of a community of characters seeking answers kept me guessing the whole way through. Set against a Welsh estuary, the landscape becomes a character all of it’s own, at times offering comfort while at others becoming a danger.

I loved reading this place-based storytelling and noticing the nuances of truth for these people who are fictional but will be recognised by so many, especially Welsh readers, but universally too. Come for the Welsh noir and the curiosity of whodunnit; stay for so much more.

Another book I picked up and finished this month was Deborah Levy’s The Cost of Living; the second title in her living autobiography trilogy. Had time allowed I could had read it in one sitting, but the fact it didn’t meant I got to carry that sense of excitement that builds when you know at some point in the day you will sit down again to indulge in truly great writing. The way she lands a truth in every line, expands out to the macro and brings it back to the micro before you’ve even taken a breath, and for me, as someone who lives in the area, how she likens the Holloway Road to the Adriatic Sea is something almost magical.

It has been a while since I read the first in the series, Things I Don’t Want to Know, and though I am a fan of her other work including Hot Milk and Swimming Home, there is still so much I am yet to read. More to be discovered, but I already know The Cost of Living is one I will come to re-read many times over.

Online, I caught up on this long-saved article from The Walrus about the history of the much-famed Moleskine notebook. The piece is packed full of great insights for stationary nerds (like me), and even more so if you are a devotee of the brand. When it comes to notebooks I like to shop around, dabbling in different shapes and sizes and colours and pages, but my Moleskine pocket diary, aka the real Little Black Book, has been a mainstay in my handbag and ergo my life for over decade now. I love the familiarity of it, the durability of it, and also, yeah, it does just feel pretty cool.

Anything to share from your little black book this month?

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