I reflected today that it has been one year since I started this new Substack format in earnest.
It followed a couple of particularly low months, during which I convinced myself to give up on my dreams of being a writer. I am not embarrassed to share my failures and string of publisher/ literary agent rejections. I know it is part of the game. But that doesn’t mean it absolves me of the heartache that comes with not (yet!) achieving the one thing I have wanted desperately to since I was six years old.
However, a year on of deciding to hold fast to my dreams, and the advice that convinced me to keep going still rings true. It came from my friend Anna (as most of the best wisdom in my life tends to). When I told her how crushed I felt from all the “no’s”, she nodded and said she had been there, too, and had also arrived at the same conclusion. She then paused and said: “Giving up felt worse.”
Thank you for your support over the past 12 months.
Little Things for October.
Read | August Blue by Deborah Levy
Queen Debbie! She can do no wrong in my eyes. Another smash hit.
See | Season 3 Hacks
On the the flight over to New York last month, I watched the entirety of season 3 of Hacks. Look, I’m not proud of it but I’m not sorry, either. The show is so funny, well-paced, and exceptionally well-written. I’d binge it again in a heartbeat.
Marvel | Akram Khan’s Giselle
I was gifted tickets to see this incredible ballet and was crying/ in awe for most of it. Should it ever come back to a theatre near you, do whatever you need to do to see it.
Listen | Laura Marling’s new album
Released on 25 October! Just in time for ‘Sad Girl Autumn’. Ha.
Buy | Lights! Camera! Bedtime!
Recently got obsessed with buying lamps. Well, not actually buying them, just looking at them online. These are so beautiful and outrageously expensive, but maybe you might like them?
Also, Damson Madder’s new pyjama collection. Swoon.
Cook | cold weather tonic
Quite suddenly feels like winter here in London. A little miserable and achingly hostile outdoors. I’m feasting on chicken soup to keep myself sane.
I watched my mum make this since I was a kid, so the recipe is sort of ingrained into me now. It goes something like this:
chicken carcass, or whole raw chicken if you don’t have one of those
3 cloves of peeled garlic gloves
2 carrots, 1 celery stick, 1 white onion, 1 potato, 1 tomato, all clanked up really roughly. Don’t be precious, it doesn’t matter beyond getting them all into the pot.
3 bay leaves
handful whole pepper corns
and then, quite honestly, any other bits in your fridge that look a bit sad and on the verge of death. Last night I added to the above a bunch of parsley, two kale stalks, and half a courgette.
Put it all in a big pot. Splash with olive oil. Cook on high for about a minute, stirring constantly.
Cover with tap water until everything is well submerged.
Bring to the boil then turn down the heat and simmer on very low, with a lid on, for around 3 - 5 hours.
When done, sieve out the liquid into another pot and season with salt. You can discard the veg/ carcass from there.
I like chicken broth with tortellini and lots of parmesan. Freezes well for future rainy days.
Eat out | cosy, twinkly eateries in London to survive autumn in.
Pub - The Holly Bush Tavern, The Lady Mildmay, The Pelican, The Hero.
Bars - Goodbye Horses, Hectors, Cadet, MOKO, Mu.
Restaurants - Jolene, Ducksoup, Bistro Freddie, Saltine, 40 Maltby Street, Leos, Brawn.
Cafes - Pophams, Alba, Market Cafe, Leila’s.
Poem | ‘To the Woman Crying Uncontrollably in the Next Stall’ by Kim Addonizio
If you ever woke in your dress at 4am ever closed your legs to someone you loved opened them for someone you didn’t moved against a pillow in the dark stood miserably on a beach seaweed clinging to your ankles paid good money for a bad haircut backed away from a mirror that wanted to kill you bled into the back seat for lack of a tampon if you swam across a river under rain sang using a dildo for a microphone stayed up to watch the moon eat the sun entire ripped out the stitches in your heart because why not if you think nothing & no one can / listen I love you joy is coming