Sat for a long time thinking about this intro. Thought about telling you how, annoyingly, sobriety feels very good: Dry Jan works. I did the whole thing, and am still going, and being alive and aware of it all the time is quite nice.
Or about how I had to kill a mouse on Saturday, and that made me feel extremely bad. It was quite big and it had made it through the worst of winter, poor thing, only to meet its demise at my hand. But I couldn’t have it kicking about in my salt tub or dining on scraps beneath the microwave. I don’t regret it. I would do it again.
Or how, only just this Sunday, I noticed the daylight is holding on almost to 5pm. That feels like hope.
But none of it really had a point, so here is a list of some serotonin inducing ideas to see you through the next 24 days of Feb.
Theatre | A Good House
My friend Jamie took me to see this last week Friday and I cried so uncontrollably towards the end that I was doing the digging-my-nails-into-my-arm thing to stop myself from making embarrassing sounds in the theatre. It is a new play from a South African writer, Amy Jeptha, exploring race, class and gentrification. It is set in a South African context but interestingly, the topics translated pretty effortlessly to a London audience.
It is on now at the Royal Court Theatre in Sloane Square (until February 8th) before moving to the Bristol Old Vic. I highly recommend.
And while we are at it, Jamie has a show coming to Cape Town soon. It is about grief and spinning. Go see it.
Watch | Mad Men
I never watched Mad Men when it first came out, probably because I was a child. But its return to Netflix sparked a new appreciation for it.
It’s funny how TV writing has changed. Shows are expected to be fast-paced fever dreams where people live and die and resurrect all in one episode in order to keep the viewer hooked. It’s really nice to watch something like Mad Men, where an entire show might be about Don Draper buying himself a new suit, for no apparent purpose other than to show he cares about fashion. Nice.
Music | Living the High Life
I listened to this sort of a music a lot as kid, my dad loved it. It’s been keeping me company on those particularly vitamin D deprived evenings.
Art | “Goya to Impressionism” at the Courtauld
I love this Museum. It costs a small fortune to visit but it has such a beautiful collection. And a really good gift shop!
I’m really looking forward to this show.
Cook | Anna Jones
I’ve long been a fan of Anna Jones’ cooking. Simple, tasty, wholesome meals that feel like good company during the week. Her website has had a recent revamp to make the transition from cookbooks to digital recipes more user-friendly.
Read | Paul Theroux’s The Great Railway Bazaar
I read a lot of Theroux in my early twenties when I had big dreams of being a full-time travel writer some day (HOW does one do this, asking for myself???). I recently returned to this book about his journey through Asia by train. Fuelled, perhaps, by images of the revived East Orient Express that are holding my Instagram ransom.
Do | Legal Housekeeping
Every January I have a standing date with myself to look over my Will. A whiplash turn from chatting about High Life music and Mad Men, I’ll concede, but it’s important, so I wanted to mention it. Not many people are encouraged or educated on how the topic: did you know that in most countries, without one, the State can decide what happens to all your things and money? Mad.
Anyway, it’s fairly uncomplicated to write a Will and feels nice to know that task is taken care of. Octopus Legacy is currently offering a free will writing service when you opt to donate to your favourite charity.
And if you’re reading this from South Africa – where I am from – then I highly recommend PopLaw who offer free will services.
Poem | what’s the month of love without a love poem!
The Bridesmaid’s Speech by Kate Baer I have known her all her life. And by that I mean I’ve seen her in the impossible light of girlhood. The spaces in between — the car on the way to the birthday dinner, the moment before the photograph. I have stood outside the bathroom stall, held tight while her shoulders shook with sorrow. I’ve watched joy arrive, midnight and unexpected, repeated stories until they were my own. It’s true there is a cost to this devotion — but I’ll let you in on a little secret: there is very little women choose to keep from one another. How lucky are we to know a love like this.