Good morning! It feels tin-eared to go straight into things that are cheerful and (hopefully) uplifting when the news is as it is. We don’t need to talk about it here - it would be the opposite of the point of this newsletter - but I feel like it’s important to acknowledge that everything feels absolutely fucked. So big love to you if you’re feeling anxious/sickened/enraged, swinging wildly between wanting to avoid the news completely and also mainline it 24/7. Me too. All of us, I expect, which is at least a crumb of comfort.

Sorry for the downer opener (you should have seen my first version. It was about 1000 words and it was… intemperate). Anyway: we shall now trot gaily away from the ruins and into the nice meadow full of flowers for a bit, like the Billy Goats Gruff swerving the troll under the bridge. Or outwitting him. Which wouldn’t be hard.

Here are all the things I liked this week, plus a little digression about dressing while fat - my former area of… expertise is a bit strong, but I do have some tips that might be useful.

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This is the tenth instalment of a series called Me & My Desk, which exists because I find other writers’ work routines and work environments fascinating. All the other writers’ desks in the series so far are here.

Describing Mark Diacono as a food writer is really missing the point (see also e.g. Diana Henry or Nigella Lawson). He’s a writer of outstanding sentences that happen, more often than not, to be food-related.

As well as writing a monthly food column for The Sunday Times and a gardening column for Country Life, he has written and/or photographed 14 books, lots of them award-winning.

They include A Year at Otter Farm, which was my bible when I first moved to the country and attempted to grow things, as were the books he wrote when he was involved with River Cottage (he ran the gardening bit), especially Veg Patch and Chicken and Eggs. You can read about Otter Farm, the groundbreaking smallholding Mark created in Devon, here, and buy interesting vegetable and herb seeds and lovely fruit trees from the website too.

His most recent book, Abundance - which I passionately recommend to you, even more passionately than I recommend all his other books - was written ‘live’ on Substack and published in weekly instalments.

Speaking of his Substack - it’s an absolute treasure trove of great writing, great recipes, great playlists and the best kind of memoir. He also teaches writing workshops, does Lives with interesting food people (writing ‘food people’ makes me think of Alan Patridge’s sex people, hahaha), and runs over-subscribed writing retreats, often with in fact Diana Henry (whose desk is here).

Anyway: here’s Mark’s desk.

What is the desk?

I have two desks. The largest is where I do whatever - emails, writing when the words come easy, making notes, sketching ideas and so on. The smallest - which I’ll focus on - and a gift from my old friend and interior designer Max Rollitt, has been a companion for a quarter of a century. Every book I’ve written owes a little, often much more, to its tiny top and spindly legs. It used to be in my shepherds hut in the middle of the forest garden where, log burner blazing, I wrote A Year at Otter Farm and more, when we lived on our smallholding.

I have two desks not because I’m the sort of jessie who needs perfect conditions in which to write, but sometimes I just need the difference, the gentle shake up of the mind, the lack of admin, the sense of moving into a different brain space that the little desk gives me. Better still: I can move it to wherever suits the sunshine through the window. My best words are almost always written at this desk.

Where is the desk?

The spindly legged desk sits against the wall of my office near the window, ready to be moved to the best spot away from bright sunshine on the screen but with a view. The larger desk is set back from the window enough not to be too troubled by glare yet looking out to the hills.

What do you look out onto?

I live on the edge of Sidmouth, a coastal town in East Devon, England, and across the neighbouring rooftops I look out to the long, steep wooded hill where I like to take the dog walking. It’s peculiar to look at the photos I’ve just taken of the view and realise how much of it my eyes don’t really register - they just see the hills and the sky. Whether sunrise, sunset, fog or bright, the views are always special when I’m up there, and even being able to see it from my office settles my mind. I like very much that the telephone wires, telegraph posts, hedges and trees make for much lively bird activity too.

How does sitting down at the desk make you feel?

Having an old friend for a desk, something that has been there when I’ve written words no eyes should suffer or that have brought an award, reminds me in those doubtful moments that I’m not always awful at this. Everyone needs a shitty stick to wave at the invisible jury on the shoulder when they inevitably pipe up, and sitting at this desk gives me just that. It also reminds me that it takes commitment and attention for me to write well. It is at this desk where I became a writer, and where I realised that I so often write to discover how I feel, and make sense of the world. It can be an occasionally revelatory experience: 15 years ago I sat at this desk without a clue what I was going to write, and by evening I’d written about how I knew my dad was dead before I was told; something I’d buried - forgotten as far as my conscious mind was concerned - in the aftermath of his dying. I give almost daily thanks that somehow I found writing, as I’ve genuinely have no idea what I’d be doing and I’d understand myself and the world even less than I do.

When do you write - are there set hours?

I write whenever I can. I’m currently home alone for a few days and I might easily be at my desk, with walk or coffee-in-the-garden breaks, for 14 hours or more. Time just vanishes to it and there are very few things I’d rather be doing than writing without distractions or limitations.

If I’m either just starting on a book, or in final edit mode, and really need to inhabit it, I find writing as soon as I am awake, before my phone has felt my hand, before any diluting noise of the world has reached my mind, is what works best for me. What comes out may not be polished but it’s so often got the heart of what I’m trying to reach.

Daily word count, or as the spirit moves you?

I’m not so much of a word count person - if it was an indicator of anything of quality I’d have an ideal target, but I’m a two-part writer for the most part: I get it out of my head undiluted, then craft the thing, so I might get a few hundred words I’m really happy with, or a couple of thousand I know I’ll have to work on but that have got me nearer to where I want to be.

Do you wander to and from the desk, or stay at it until you’re done?

It depends. If I am writing a column (I write for the Sunday Times Magazine, Guardian Food Quarterly, Country Life and here on Substack) I try to get it all drafted before having a break. If it’s a book I’m working on, I’ll stop when the words dry up and take to my feet, as often that old Solvitur ambulando thing - ‘it is solved by walking’ - is exactly what I need for creative leaps to be made, missing links to be found or lightbulb moments to arrive. I’m terribly distractible, so to keep my mind focused I take frequent moments to stare at the hills, let the dog sniff around the garden, and I might just go and rub the lemon verbena leaves while the kettle boils.

Are there pens? Are there notebooks? Are there photos? Are there small weird talismanic items?

I try to keep things uncluttered and simple - though I am often the cluttered sort - as it suits keeping my mind clear, so there are only a few things to hand, but they are important.

Ever since I was a little kid and had a few months hoping I might design cars (specifically Aston Martins, Lancias or Jensens) when I was a grown up, I’ve loved a propelling pencil, and still use one over a pen. There were a few weeks in my teens when I used turquoise Quink but I’d like to draw a dark veil over those, if I may.

There are a few items I like to have near - the most recent is a little tin once full of chocolates of (and from) the Bernini Express, a wonderful train that climbs through the Swiss Alps and down into Italy. It was part of a leg of a train trip from my home in Devon to a couple of hours south of Florence. A day and a half of bliss, the most incredible views, being reminded of how special train travel can be when governments prioritise public transport being safe, affordable, well maintained and on time for its their citizens. Honestly, anyone reading this: take that train.

I have an as yet unframed picture by the excellent Moose Allain propped up against the wall. As well as being one of life’s genuinely lovely people, Moose makes me laugh, and he draws/paints these gorgeous worlds that I drift off into.

There is always a musical instrument to hand. I have many that I am no more than occasionally competent at, but being able to reach for the mandolin - bought 40 years ago ahead of an autumn and winter in France and Switzerland picking grapes and busking with a friend - gives my hands something to do while my mind is trying to find that word, a turn of phrase, or otherwise get where to needs to go.

I have two notebooks - both Leuchtturm1917 - one of which holds all notes, to do lists, scribblings during meetings and so on. The second one is just for the book I’m working on.

Is there a dog or a cat?

Harris, a border terrier, almost 14 and thankfully still with us after a scary winter, is very often at my feet, chuntering about how terrible his life has been since his last snack a few minutes before, and/or farting. He moves a fleece around the floor so that he may always lie in a rhombus of sunshine.

Longhand, Scrivener, Word, Pages, something else?

My writing life has changed hugely on a few occasions - including the day I started writing on Substack - and the day I started using Scrivener changed the mechanics of writing to suit my mind.

Scrivener allows you to write in little windows that you can easily move, merge, reorganise and more: I can just focus on writing inside the ‘frame’ I’ve made for that little window and deal with how and where it fits in the whole later. It declutters my thought process, and it’s so good practically: for example, food writers can reorganise recipes from monthly to Lunch, Supper, Desserts etc, in a few simple moments of dragging, and see how they relate to the whole. Other than a few hours to familiarise, there are no downsides that I have discovered in a dozen years of using it. I simply wouldn’t be the writer I am without it.

Do you listen to music, and if so what?

Often not, but if I’m in need of a little colour in the air without the distractibility of words - and music is so very much of how I understand the world - I might play something instrumental. At the moment, it seems to be Bill Evans, Four Tet, and a few film soundtracks - The Mission and The Revenant especially. And I made a playlist of favourites for when I don’t want to decide which you are very welcome to.

Do you use internet-blocking apps like Freedom?

No. Once in a while I just need to check something ridiculous like how to spell ‘accommodation’ or whether it’s true that your ears keep growing when you’re dead.

Are there desk snacks? Is there desk tea?

If anything edible sits on the desk it will be demolished as if a fly taken by one of those long tongued frogs. Exhibit A: the wrapper of today’s Booja Booja almond caramel chocolate truffle. I drink a couple of cups of coffee a day, with an almost constant stream of hot water and lemon.

Do you have an ergonomic chair?

One of the ignominies of reaching my middle years is discovering that almost every ailment seems to be caused by me doing something minor, wrongly, repeatedly. I finally lost patience with endless neck and headaches caused by sitting poorly, in the wrong chair and with my crossed legs. At my large desk, I now have a Nordic chair with a lumber roll which stops me slumping, curving my back and bringing on neck and headaches. My small desk has the chair that came with the desk from Max, a chair that is a delight for a few hours only, which is exactly what I want it to be.

Do you wear proper clothes and shoes, or e.g. jogging bottoms and socks?

When I am in the early or latter stages of writing a book, I resent anything that gets between me and the desk - breakfast, coffee, brushing teeth, whatever - and will just about accept that it’s better to be dressed when working, but I seem to need to be in clothes I’d be happy to leave the house in to start, so no joggers for me.

Is your phone in the room when you write?

My phone is always with me when I’m writing, on silent unless it is my wife, daughter or mum calling or messaging. I’ve trained myself down to 10 minutes of Insta in the morning and the same in the evening and it has made so much difference not just to reducing the amount of time I waste but - more importantly - to my attention span, my ability to stay in the world, that I’d like to keep shifting my use of it to reduce reduce reduce.

Do you resent or welcome occasional interruptions by adult humans? If welcome, how many is too many?

Hmmmm. It depends if they bear edible/drinkable gifts...

What’s the first thing you do when you leave your desk for the day?

Run a bath. I run the bath, slide in so low you’d think I was a spy hiding in the water with a hollow stick periscope with which to breathe, and then I do Wordle, put the phone aside, and read from whichever in the stack by my desk suits my mood. You can’t write well if you don’t read well.

Huge thank yous to Mark for showing us his desk. Here is Abundance on Bookshop, at Waterstones and at Amazon.

Can you believe it’s already Wednesday? And the most beautiful day, not least because Armageddon appears to have been averted, at least for now. I didn’t quite realise how stressed it was making me until I turned on the radio at 2am to check on the news.

Have a lovely day! I’m off - well, I’m not off anywhere, I have a pile of work and deathly dull admin to get through, which seems especially cruel given the weather. I really feel like bunking off, isn’t it funny how you get that ‘Miss, Miss, can we draw outside instead?’ feeling even when you’re old? But when I finish I will attempt to have a go at my containers, which are full of nettles, random grasses and dead cosmos from last year.

Back at the weekend. Enjoy the sun! (this is my favourite sunscreen).

PS Look at this, makes me desperate to hop on board

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I found this unattributed photo on Pinterest. I like the idea of giving people (not young children, who would be indignant) an egg box with a few Easter things in it, e.g. this Lindt bunny, rather than so many giant eggs that everyone feels mildly queasy by 11am.

• For lunch on Easter Sunday 1: slow-roast lamb with sumac, dates and pomegranates.

• I like this picnic basket from M&S Not quite picnic weather YET, admittedly, but it’s coming and it’s nice to be ready.

  

• Louise’s wonderful pattern mixes:

A Sartorial Love Story

Living the patterned life.

This post is too long for email, so click through to open it up, or read it in the app…

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13 days ago · 44 likes · 19 comments · Louise

This potting table from Argos is such a good colour (and price).

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Every month Lucinda shares her favourite finds exclusively for readers of Home. They’re not just things she’s seen online and liked the look of - everything below has been personally inspected by Lucinda in the flesh.

Here is April’s As Good As It Looks. All Lucinda’s previous picks are here on my Substack and also here on Collagerie. All posts auto-paywall after 4 weeks.

Hello Agailers,

Welcome back, and thank you for reading and looking. I must say, I so enjoy doing this for India. It’s like chatting to a friend who really is interested in both what you’ve bought recently, and, more importantly, why you have. And I don’t really do that with my friends, they don’t really ask!

So I love this sharing opportunity. I don’t expect anybody to like all of the choices as I know I have quite a scatter gun approach to shopping, but I hope there is a little something that takes with you, or just saves you time with the scroll, which is why we do what we do at Collagerie!

Some things are little uplifts, others more of an investment, but whichever way, they are things that I fell in love with and then was thrilled to have. Hope you feel that way too!

Tie dye jacquard dress, currently £149 from Jigsaw

1. I do like dresses but they have to be interesting enough for me to forgo the pleasure of mixing and matching different tops and bottoms, which I love. So finding a dress that doesn’t just ‘do’ but that has the wow factor can be a bit of a challenge sometimes. And yet I love to wear them as when you find a good one, you feel kind of pulled together, feminine and bold. This one is sensational. When I got it home, I hung it up and pulled out all my old necklaces, ones that I haven’t worn for years but were waiting in the wings for just such an occasion. And at London Fashion Week I noticed that necklaces were having a bit of a comeback. That’s what I love about going to fashion shows - they give you permission to try something new, or old, that suddenly seems relevant again.

   I felt that way when Christopher Kane did pleats. They felt fresh and modern whereas they had seemed old and frumpy before. This dress is a great colour, burgundy with turquoise, jagged slightly ‘tribal’ feel, very snazzy. It’s cotton but it’s a compact knit, not too heavy but does ‘hold’ you and it’s slightly waisted. It’s perfect for now, worn with a coat but you can take it right through to summer and beyond without one. Also, good with a boot, as we are still wearing them, but for S/S I can see it with a good wedge sandal. Will start looking and keep you posted on results.

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Lana midi bucket bag, £545 from Strathberry

2. When I see the word ‘bucket’ my heart does skip a beat as I have always been very partial to them. What I really like about Strathberry is that their bags are very well made and are workhorses. You can really fling them around without care or worry. I have two and they are both over 5 years old and still look like new. So the investment is worth it. Plus, I love the stitching detail and the mix of suede and leather, it just elevates the brown bag situation and makes it individual and interesting, with character.

Pure cotton poplin pull on straight leg trouser, £20 from M&S

3. These had my name on them. Striped and smart, cotton, pockets, elasticated waist. Summer heaven. I bought them in a size 14, I think I’m usually 10/12 but I knew I wanted them oversized, worn with a belt, and that I would probably rush to my local dry cleaners who are never not taking up my trousers. So much so, that I think I could attach the excess fabric that they remove, to a T-shirt or do something crafty related with the leftovers. To be continued. But they have a really generous hem which I asked to be replicated as it makes them feel a bit sturdy down below. I love them. Crisp, smart and always love a really good stripe.

Paul Smith Loves Barbour women's clogs, £99.95 from John Lewis

4. When I come home from the office the first thing I do is pop on an apron and put on my gardening shoes. Not necessarily because I’m going to garden or possibly cook supper, but really because I want to feel utterly comfortable and draw the line between working and being at home.

   However, I love a gardening clog and often wished that I could make the segue between work and home with style. These are they. The colour is gardening, but there are the little pops of colour that just make that elevation from clods of earth to pavement sophistication. I absolutely love them. They come up big so go a size down. I’m a size 5 and I got them in 4 unless you are going to wear them with a very, very stout sock or two.

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Opal rollneck knit jumper, £88 from Free People

5. I have been looking for a cream jumper forever since I shrunk my old beloved Marni one and this is it! It’s cotton, sort of slubby, in a fisherman-friendly sort of a way, loose knit but not too ‘open’. The neck is just right as it’s got me out of winter polo necks, finally, and it’s slightly raised, really comfortable, good with a little kerchief or without. It’s the sort of sweater that your best friend would have knitted just for you (if they weren’t knitting for their grandchild, yes I am that age and still waiting).

   The colour is kind of undyed and natural which I love (although it does come in lots of other colours too). It comes up big, I got a XS and it’s baggy, in a good way. Just the right length as it’s slightly cropped so hangs really well over a trouser, no tucking in nonsense. Also love the inside out seams, always have done. What’s not to love? It feels like an old friend in a good way. Chic and understated.

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Carryall bag, £49 from Plümo

6. So, I have a few totes that I circulate. I wish I could be the sort of person who a) has a tidy desk and b) just carries a phone and lipstick. But I am not. I carry books, presents, handkerchiefs and always, always, a tape measure. So, totes it is. This one drew my attention as it’s canvas and cream and black - fave combo. Plümo is a site that I do buy from time to time. My best pair of trousers came from them 15 years ago and are still going strong. I love their aesthetic as they have unusual things, often from other brands in the Netherlands etc which I really like.

   Anyway, unpacked the tote this evening and it didn’t disappoint. The proportions of it are really good. Generous on the width but not too deep downy, which is essential as I never get to the bottom and things accumulate. The straps piped in black just give it that chic kick. It’s got a nice flat base and a side pocket, also essential for the lipstick which would otherwise rattle around at the bottom of the bag never to be reapplied. The canvas is not too heavy but not light either, just right.

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ZW Collection relaxed mid-waist jeans, £49.99 from Zara

7. Always looking (often buying) for the perfect cream trousers. And I have found a fair few over the years, and they do different things at different times. For instance I have my ‘special’ ones, a great pair from Soeur which I don’t fling into the dryer but hang up patiently. Then I’ve got my every dayers. These are those. They are a great shape, nice thick cotton with a great selvedge turn up that you just adjust accordingly as it’s got a slight frayed edge, which I also like. They look very much like a Japanese make, which is always a good thing. So I’m very happy with these.

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By Hope tulips linen napkin in Multi, £18 from John Lewis

8. I have what you might call a ‘heightened’ interest in cushions, textiles, utility trousers, stout shoes… I could go on and on, but I guess that’s why I do what I do because I love and see the point in quite a lot of things, patterned, plain, textures, chintz and mid century modern… it’s all quite a heady mix.

   I had a divine lunch with a new friend Butter Wakefield whose house was just gorgeous. Filled with flowers and floral objects (she is a wonderful gardener), it made my house look sparse and slightly minimal which is always a relief. Anyway, everything was flower-related, so of course I was smitten. I found these napkins, another collecting opportunity, as I do use napkins at every meal. These are just lovely, the print being so pretty. There’s a table cloth to match if you want to go the whole hog, the fabric is great, good cotton, will wash very well which is essential in the napkin department and from a company that was new to me.

   Also they have a Mimosa print, a particular favourite as I planted a mimosa tree last year to bring in some colour into the garden when there is none, February. Electric yellow and it’s the gift that keeps on giving, it’s still out there doing its thing. Wonderful to wake up to, so, have a look but I do love these.

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Relaxed knit tee in Stripe Compact Knit, £125 from Me + Em

A-line knit skirt in Stripe Compact Knit, £175 from Me + Em

9 & 10. I have been a bit of a follower of Me+Em since they first started with a very upmarket mail order catalogue. They felt a bit Celine in a Phoebe sort of a way, smart and understated, and not too challenging. Of course I was immediately drawn to the boldness of these two pieces. Sadly I am not a suit wearer and never have been, can’t pull it off, but this is my equivalent of a suit.

I will wait until I start to get a bit of tan and probably wear the skirt with a crisp brown cotton shirt, open at the neck and a great pair of earrings, and a big wedge sandal. Going bold with both, I am tempted to wear it with a neat sports jacket, there are lots of them around (very good looking one at Benetton but haven’t seen it IRL so will report back when I have) and a crisp white shirt underneath but poking out at the hem. Giving it that sporty edge will make it feel modern to me. PS. You can also tuck the top into the skirt and ‘match up’ up the stripes giving the illusion of a dress, which I love, in fact I am going to wear it that way tonight, loaded up with gold necklaces and earrings and a flat gold sandal, can’t wait! It’s just the right weather for it.

Semi-precious stone earrings, £35.99 from Mango

11. I’m in a very pendant sort of mood, and a silver one too, so these are like pendants for the ears. I wish they had done a necklace like the earrings, so will have to keep on hunting. La Double J has some beauties… just saying. These are sharp and clean and the stone is semi-precious so has not a whiff of the plastic feel. Quite the opposite.

High neck waistcoat with pockets, £99.99 from Mango

12. We are into a tricky season for clothes as it’s the layering season, where it can be slightly too warm to pile up with coats, sweaters and boots but too cold not to go without good layering pieces. This is one of them. I cannot emphasise how good the quality is, what a great colour it is and it’s just the smartest and most well made thing.

At first when I bought it I hung it up and felt guilty as I wasn’t in the zone. Plus, it looked huge and slightly unwieldy. But after you drawstring it up quite firmly it goes into the most fabulous shape. The fabric is not soft so it really retains its shape and is big enough to go over any sweater. I might try putting it over a coat for a double layering opportunity. It’s really a keeper.

PS It comes up really big, I got an XXS and it’s roomy.

Rope detail strappy gladiator sandals, £46 from M&S

13. I’m willing the sun to keep popping out so I can get my toes out for these. I love ‘something found’, things that are made to look as if you’ve ‘fashioned’ them yourself out of rope, strands of pearls, driftwood, sea glass, anything found. These are like that. I love the rope, love the fact that they are cream and black and so very, very flat. Just my thing.

A squillion thanks to Lucinda for doing these for us every month.

Today marks the day Christ was betrayed by Judas Iscariot for 30 pieces of silver. I’m not religious but I find the stories of Holy Week very moving, partly because they’re made so vivid through paintings.

I’m off to talk to someone about curtains, after which I will try and collate a sort of micro supplement featuring a few Easter (main course) recipes for you, which I am going to post tomorrow. At least, that’s the plan. There’s also a very good Indian-ish lamb recipe in this post from last year. Might make that again myself, actually, now I’ve remembered it.

Good morning and happy eve of British Summertime! AT LAST.

You know how in the later books Tom Ripley goes away and does his murders and then feels this sense of absolute blissful ease when he comes home to Belle Ombre, his house (and garden) in France?

I was thinking on the train that I feel exactly like that coming home. It’s an unfortunate analogy - I did nothing more criminal than overspend in Sézane, of which more below - but Patricia Highsmith is so good at conveying his sense of perfect serene contentment that I can’t think of a better comparison. Which is to say: it’s heaven to be home (I was only away for 3 days, it’s pathetic. If I had to travel a lot for work I would just sit in airports crying).

It’s also heaven to have categorically decided not to replace the bathrooms. That is thanks to this brilliantly useful and comprehensive post by . I was reading it, eagerly taking notes, and then I thought, nah. Fuck it. Too much effort, too much faff, too much mess, too much money. Our bathrooms are cosy and functional, the pressure is amazing now we’ve got a new giant hot water tank, the baths are long enough (v important, no one wants to bend the knee if they don’t have to, in baths or in life), and under the carpet are beautiful, wide, ancient elm floorboards. A friend is coming round in a bit with some bathroom bookshelves he’s made, and that whole set-up will do very nicely.

I was going to say ‘for now,’ but actually it might do very nicely forever. Sometimes, house-wise, the pleasure is not in upheaval but in keeping things as they are. And anyway I’m not convinced that 17th century houses need 21st century bathrooms.

Before I start, thank you so much to those of you who came to the Daunt Books event with Mimi Pond, especially to the person* who bought me the delicious marmalade (it’s this one) (*edited - thank you CATHY!).

If you didn’t come, this is how Mimi signs every copy of her book about the Mitford sisters. I mean. Apparently people expect it of ‘cartoonists,’ which is how she describes herself.

She also brought excellent merch with her, including this tea towel.

She’s at the Oxford Literary Festival this afternoon, should you be in that neck of the woods.

Also Jessica Mitford’s SON was in the audience! Which actually I found slightly inhibiting because I’d read Laura Thompson’s excellent recent post about how you either love the Mitfords or are appalled by them, and I wanted to dig in to Laura’s point about Decca’s free pass. But I didn’t. I mean, the man’s sitting there, it’s his mum, you can’t, really.

I write these round-up posts for paid subscribers once a week, and for free subscribers once a month. The most recent free one is here, and the others are all here. All posts auto-paywall after 4 weeks. More free things to read: really good chicken recipes; the author Lottie Moggach’s desk, and how she writes; an extract from a brilliant thriller; an extract from a brilliant tragicomedy.

Below the paywall: everything I liked this week, including a really good interiors book, an outstanding cookbook, new jeans, beauty things, a new (to me) and brilliant word game, and some further shopping triumphs.

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I have loved all Lottie Moggach’s novels since her debut, Kiss Me First, and am really delighted she agreed to show us her desk.

Her fourth book, Mrs Pearcey, is out now and as I was saying at the weekend, I read it in two days. This one is set in 1890 in London, specifically Camden. The plot is gripping and based on a true story. It’s about Hannah Teale, a newly-engaged young woman who finds herself becoming an embryonic reporter following a double murder by another young woman called Mary Pearcey.

Hannah is an invented character, but Mary Pearcey was real, and the case notorious - at one point there was a waxwork of her in Madame Tussaud’s. The murders came just after those of Jack The so-called Ripper and really captured the public imagination, not least because the victims were a mother and her baby, and the accused an attractive 24-year-old woman. Amazingly, the murders took place in Lottie’s grandmother’s house - do read this piece by her about that (I think/hope that’s a gift link).

Anyway: Lottie does a very clever thing, which is render Victorian London incredibly vividly while somehow never veering into pastiche. I have a soft spot for contemporary fiction set in Victorian times - I think because Victorian London feels so easily imaginable and only just out of reach - but the writing usually pays homage to the period in which it’s set. Not this one.

You can feel the streets of this bit of Camden (and Hampstead and Kentish Town), and the people and the clothes and the various milieus and every last domestic detail, but the way the the story is told feels like a breath of fresh air. I can’t recommend the book enough. It’s about more than murders, obviously - it’s also about a young woman unexpectedly deviating from what the period and its societal norms expect of her.

Here’s Lottie:

What is the desk?

An old partners’ desk, designed to be used by two people facing each other – Victorian bankers, maybe? – so it’s luxuriously roomy. The double bed of desks. It belonged to my late father-in-law, Edward Mortimer, who was a very illustrious writer and thinker, and so I like to imagine that just by sitting at it I’m being infused by his intellect and work ethic.

Where is the desk?

In the spare room at the back of the house, with a bed dangerously close by. Next to it is an overgrown cheese plant (is there any other sort?), and on the surrounding walls some paintings and a collection of drawings by my grandmother, who wrote and illustrated children’s books. Also, a little felt Anne Boleyn doll, which is linked to a possible book idea.

What do you look out onto?

The view is of the back garden, and beyond it is the Parkland Walk, a nature reserve occupying a defunct railway line between Highgate and Finsbury Park. It’s pretty bucolic at this time of year; lots of blossom and manic bird song. At the end of the garden is the shed where my husband works. From our respective windows, we can see each other’s vague shapes, but nothing more, which is as close as I’d want to get to someone monitoring my work. Poor Victorian bankers!

How does sitting down at the desk make you feel?

At the moment, pretty positive, because my current project is in the lovely early stage, when everything is still possible and things haven’t yet got sticky.

When do you write - are there set hours?

I’m not super-strict about hours, but mornings are by far my best time, so I get tense if I’m not sitting at my desk by 9am-ish. If someone’s staying in the spare room, and I can’t evict them for the day, like a B&B landlady, I’ll go and write in the British Library. That’s nice in some ways, because I can have lunch with a friend who works there, but I miss my screen and being able to drink coffee at my desk.

I also use a huge, leather diary/notebook that isn’t designed to be lugged about. Afternoons are usually a write-off, creatively, but I often get a second wind between 5pm-7pm. This was especially true when I drank and smoked, as sitting down with a glass of wine and a roll-up was brilliant for jump-starting the brain. Now, I try and simulate the feeling with an alcohol-free beer and salt and vinegar crisps, but it’s not the same.

Daily word count, or as the spirit moves you?

I think word counts are very useful for getting down a first draft, but after that, it’s more as the spirit moves me. My most recent novel, Mrs Pearcey, is set in the late Victorian era, and I researched it as I wrote. So, rather than banking a thousand words, a working day might be spent reading 1890 issues of the Girls Own Paper, to get an idea of the kind of messaging young women were receiving then, or what kind of pudding they might have eaten at Sunday lunch.

The book is based on a notorious real life double murder committed in Camden Town by a 24 year-old woman called Mary Pearcey, and while I’ve taken liberties with the story itself, weaving in a fictional character who investigates the crime, I was keen to get the geography and background details right. I grew up in Camden and know the area very well, but I still did tons of research, through books and newspaper archives. The Camden History Society was a huge help: they publish a brilliant series of books of street-by-street local history.

Do you wander to and from the desk, or stay at it until you’re done?

Oh, I wander about all the time. To get more coffee; to check whether the washing machine has ended its cycle; to see what post just landed up the doormat... any excuse. I’ve fully absorbed the advice that it’s healthy to take regular breaks from your screen. And actually, I’m still working – honestly! – as moving about is conducive to thinking, I find.

Are there small weird talismanic items?

It’s not small, but I have an unusual lamp made by my husband out of leftover household materials– copper piping, a spare floor tile, a shade made from the bathroom wallpaper. He’s very handy, which is, well, handy, since we both like tinkering with the house.

Also on the desk is a green velour monster head made by my son, Kit, some years ago, and a postcard of a Victorian woman who might be Mary Pearcey. I found the photo online, and it’s unverified, but I think it is her, because newspaper reports at the time mentioned her overbite. In any case, the woman in the photo is who I pictured when I was writing the novel. Her notoriety has faded now, but at the time the murders were a press sensation. The standard photo that comes up when you google her isn’t actually of her, but of her Madame Tussaud’s waxwork. Tussaud’s unveiled a tableau of the murder scene on the day of Pearcey’s execution, and 30,000 people went to see it in one day

Is there a dog or a cat?

We very much have a dog, Renée – by which I mean, she has separation anxiety and cannot be left alone. Ever. So, she’ll be in with one or other of us. She was a lockdown puppy and it’s our fault for not training her to be ok on her own. She’s a Briard, bred for guarding sheep, and so barks at everything, including replying to every dog she hears on the Parkland Walk. But she’s also very beautiful and affectionate, and we’ve now just admitted defeat and accepted that our lives revolve around her.

Longhand, Scrivener, Word, Pages, something else?

Word.

Do you listen to music, and if so what?

No – I wish I could.

Do you use internet-blocking apps?

No – but I should.

Are there desk snacks? Is there desk tea?

Coffee throughout the day, and 0.0 beer and crisps after five.

Do you have an ergonomic chair?

No, because I find them too ugly! Flash forward to me spending the last quarter of my life at the osteopath…

Do you wear proper clothes and shoes, or e.g. jogging bottoms and socks?

Comfort is key! I don’t tend to wear jogging bottoms, rather very loose jeans. I’ve just bought some Bostons to replace my Crocs, which is my only concession to style.

Is your phone in the room when you write?

When I really need to focus or dig deep, I leave it downstairs. I should do that all the time, really, but I have a friend, Sathnam, who I chat to on WhatsApp throughout the day, and I really value the connection. Because he’s a writer too, and we’re on the same wavelength, bouncing thoughts off him has become part of my process. And of course, we vent, too, when things aren’t going well. Writers must only whinge about writing to other writers, I think, and spare the rest of the world.

Do you resent or welcome occasional interruptions by adult humans? If welcome, how many is too many?

I don’t mind interruptions by adult humans at all, but I may be saying that only because I rarely get them. My husband is a bit of an island during the working day; he’d only knock on my door if he had something genuinely important or urgent to say. Generally, it’s me who interrupts him.

What’s the first thing you do when you leave your desk for the day?

I’ll take the dog out, or go down to the shops in Crouch End, whilst listening to something: a podcast or a book, currently Parade’s End, read by Bill Nighy. After years of being slightly sniffy about audiobooks, I’ve completely changed my tune. I find that listening when walking brings me closest to that intimate, immersive relationship I had with fiction back in the pre-smartphone era. But I always have a paper book on the go, too: right now, the wonderful Mrs Dickens by Emily Howes, about another real-life Victorian Mrs, who could tell us a thing or two about what it’s like to live with a writer.

Mrs Pearcey is out now. Here is it on Bookshop, at Waterstones and on Amazon. A million thanks to Lottie for sharing her desk with us.

Thanks so much for reading. As ever, do please kindly leave this post a ❤️ if you enjoyed it, and I’ll be back later in the week. I’m now off to London - I might send a quick postcard. Have a lovely Monday!

Good morning! Well, dramatic morning - a rook fell down the chimney and was waiting for us in the dining room. Lupin alerted us by barking and respectfully standing next to it (it was stunned rather than flapping about, thank God). I admire corvids’ great intelligence and Gothic good looks, but I’m scared of them close up - I’m not mad on the beaks and feet and black, black eyes - let alone of them IN MY HOUSE. Anyway, all fine now - my partner lovingly rescued it, gave it a pep talk in a kind voice, told it how beautiful it was, sat with it (outside) until it perked up, and shouted YES! YES! when it flew away. All this before 7am.

I’m glad it’s okay. I wouldn't love a repeat of the great injured kittiwake rescue of 2023 (it lived in the broody hen coop for two weeks until its wing healed, ate delicious fresh fish and was furious throughout. Then he took it back to Sizewell beach, whence it came, and it soared up into the sky, flew out to sea and rejoined its colony on the old offshore platforms. Which I do admit was very gratifying). What is it with my family and rescuing birds at the moment? I wish someone would rescue an animal I can do business with, e.g. a baby donkey.

It was the spring equinox yesterday and I feel we’re on the way. So this weekend’s post has lots of spring bits throughout it - clothes, home things, and various other items designed to get the sap rising, in the non Seth Starkadder sense (although, don’t let me stop you).

This is a post for paid subscribers. There are lots of recent free things to read on my home page - book extracts of various genres here, here and here, shopping here, last weekend’s giant roundup here. There are three free particularly good chicken recipes here. And you could always take a look at my shop:

IT IS HERE AND I LOVE EVERYTHING IN IT

Some links are affiliate, at no cost to you and minuscule benefit to me.

I write these round-up posts for paid subscribers once a week, and for free subscribers once a month. Last week’s was free and the others are all here. All posts auto-paywall after 4 weeks.

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The cover image is Kardamyli in the Mani peninsula and I found it here. The settlement features in the Iliad.

So many good books at the moment, so here is another free extract. This is for you if you’re a fan of superior psychological suspense, which frankly who isn’t?

I love Sabine Durrant’s books because they’re so well written, so emotionally intelligent, and therefore so satisfying (she’s pretty hot on twisty plots, too, obviously). Her previous thrillers include Lie With Me, which was a Sunday Times top ten bestseller, and Sun Damage, which is currently in production with Bad Wolf and Disney.

I think Dead Heat might be her best one yet. It’s set in Greece over a summer and it’s incredibly atmospheric and oppressive - the heat, the relationships, the events - it’s all sticky and woozy and hot and sandy and salty and languorous. You completely feel like you’re there.

Story: Matt is a journalist who’s just been made redundant and been dumped by his girlfriend. His old friends Celia and Adam suggest he go and mope at the cottage in the grounds of their house in Greece for the summer, and maybe write the screenplay he’s always going on about. They’ll join him at the main house later. So off he goes. Adored Celia is rich and, despite her best endeavours, entitled. Adam is the sort of man who’s never met a vagina he didn’t like.

But when Matt gets to the Peleponnese, there’s been a new arrival, a very rich man who has built a massive and gross edifice across the bay. He has a very large yacht and he throws very large parties. The still-wild Greek idyll Matt knows and loves is scarred. If I was writing a blurb, which thank goodness I’m not, I would say AND DEEPER SCARS SOON EMERGE. There’s a missing person, too. Dum dum duuuuuuuuummmm…

Before becoming a full-time novelist, Sabine worked in editorial at The Guardian, The Sunday Times and The Independent, where she also wrote the weekly interview.

Anyway: here are chapters 2 and 3. I was going to say this is the perfect book to read on a sun lounger, but I couldn’t wait that long and read it in the rain and hail under a blanket. NB he’s going on about his foot because he trod on a sea urchin the day before.

Chapters2and3 9781529952940 Deadheat

1.66MB ∙ PDF file

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Download

Here is Dead Heat on Bookshop, at Waterstones and on Amazon.

A quick other thing: Sabine says she’s been obsessed by the Mani (where Dead Heat is set) since reading the very great Patrick Leigh Fermor in her twenties, specifically this. Fascinating man. Here’s an obit (gift link), and here’s a personal appreciation by Jan Morris. I love ‘Ach so, Herr Major’.

PLF was a correspondent of Deborah Devonshire, née Mitford, for about 20 years and their letters are a) total bliss and b) among my favourite correspondence of all time. E.g., him on swimming the Bosphorus: ‘I had beaten all records for slowness and length of immersion’. She on meeting JFK: ‘Jack asked what I do all day. Stumped.’ The letters are collated here and if you haven’t read them, you have a treat in store.

Have a lovely Thursday! We’ve had the most beautiful weather here - this ↑ was yesterday. Please kindly leave this post a 🩵 if you liked it, thank you, and I’ll be back on Saturday with a weekend supplement for paid subscribers. I think there might be quite a lot of clothes in it, because spring really feels like it’s arriving properly now. Yesterday I didn’t even wear any socks 🤘🏼.

PS If psychological thrillers aren’t your thing, read this free extract from Big Nobody. It will make you laugh and laugh (and then cry and cry when you buy the book). There’s a Greek element there, too, actually. And sex. And death.

PPS If you’re reading this furiously going ‘but I don’t want novels, I only want free really good chicken recipes,’ well, whaddayaknow.

I love ’s recipes, and food writing generally. His books are all on constant rotation in my kitchen. The pages of On The Side are stuck together in many places - this was his book about side dishes, and it is brilliantly useful if your lump of protein is quite basic and you want to bump it up a notch by serving it with something delicious but low-effort. I am in this situation all the time.

Ed’s book Crave is another favourite. The premise is that sometimes you want something fresh and ‘clean’, sometimes you want something creamy and rich, sometimes you want something spiced and warming, etc. You know that ‘I’m hungry for something sharp but I don’t know what it is’ feeling? Or ‘I want molten cheese but not cheese on toast’? The book has got you. It’s essentially arranged by mood, so you just need to turn to the relevant chapter.

Good Eggs is a favourite too. Honestly, his books are just brilliant. We keep hens, and so we’re awash with eggs and I’m always trying to think of new things to do with them. This has it all, from Fudgy Eggs With Crunchy Rice And Nam Jim to Sausage And Egg Muffins to Harissa Scrambled Eggs.

Now comes Peckish, a book of chicken dinners. It’s - surprise! - fantastic and again runs the gamut, from traybakes to gyoza to curry to classic to really good ideas for whole roast chickens. I’ve been cooking from it for about six weeks and it is just so useful, as well as DELICIOUS. You’d think I had enough chicken recipes up my sleeve by now, but no. I want to cook everything in the book.

(Every time I write ‘runs the gamut’ I think of Dorothy Parker’s review of a play in which she said of a young Katherine Hepburn ‘she runs the gamut of emotions from A to B’. Also: ‘Whose love is given over-well/ Shall look on Helen’s face in hell/ Whilst those whose love is thin and wise/ May view John Knox in Paradise’).

The recipes

Here, exclusively for YOU, adored reader, are three of my favourite recipes from the book, which is published this Thursday by Quadrille, £22. Here it is on Bookshop, Waterstones and Amazon.

Peckish Recipes India Knight 2

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Honestly, just make them and thank me (in fact Ed) later.

Have a lovely Monday! It is reasonably sunny here and I’m off to the barn to whittle down more books. It’s so difficult. I mean, I’m never going to read e.g. À Rebours/Againt Nature by J-K Huysmans again - it belongs to when I was a student and obsessed with Baudelaire, Théophile Gautier and the Romantic/Decadent movements - but can I really just throw/give it away? It’s like throwing away a part of my youthful self. But it’s fundamentally a ludicrous book, plus I don’t have an infinite amount of shelf space. Ugh, though.

Do make the recipes - they’re really good. And do leave this post a ❤️ if you liked it, please and thank you. Back shortly.

I now have Dorothy Parker on my mind. The John Knox line is my favourite (reminds me a bit of this by Edna St Vincent Millay) but also: ‘Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song/ A medley of extemporanea/And love is a thing that can never go wrong/ And I am Marie of Roumania’. Actually that was the epigraph for my first novel. Case in point: do I throw away e.g. its Japanese edition? What am I realistically ever going to do with it? But is it BAD to chuck it? Worse, is it BAD LUCK? Etc.

Good morning! It is possible that the heating and hot water will come back on tonight. It’s been five days, which unfortunately have coincided with the return of bastarding wintry weather. I don’t mind the cold that much now I’ve got used to indoor beanies + furry coat, and it is actively lovely to be in bed under piles of blankets and quilts (though piercing agony to then leave the bed), but not having baths sends me into a steep decline.

I had to be in London earlier in the week, for among other things a Design Week event, with Emma Ainscough, Jojo Barr from House Nine, and Katrina Burroughs, who is Interiors Editor at The Sunday Times. The event was sold out and afterwards my book sold out too, so thank you very much if you came along, and hello and welcome if you’ve subscribed as a result.

Anyway - I’d booked myself into a luxey hotel (allegedly - my idea of hotel luxe really isn’t other people’s, I keep discovering), thinking that the splurge was worth it because I would have at least two magnificent, epic baths, really deep, with a pot of tea and room service perched on the edge, and loads of bubbles and my book. When I eventually got there, really late due to missing the train and then chronic traffic, the room only had a shower. By this point I was on the verge of being late for dinner and didn’t have the energy to ask to move.

But tonight’s the night! Actually I shouldn’t even say that, in case I jinx it. I long for hot water.

Pigeons

In London I had supper with my younger son and his partner. She had the previous week rescued a pigeon that some kids had kicked (I feel murderous typing that) and that was hobbling about unable to fly. I have spent a lifetime really hating London pigeons, but the story of this pigeon made me reconsider.

She took the pigeon home and they made it a sort of nest in their bath, fed and watered it, and went online for advice. It turns out there is a whole network of people in London who help pigeons, rescue pigeons, house pigeons (for life if necessary), give pigeons medicine, etc etc, and they immediately leapt into action. This made me love humanity. Also the reason the pigeon was in a box rather than e.g. her handbag was that two teenagers who had something to do with a church had witness the kicking but were scared to intervene. When they saw the rescue they sweetly ran back into the church to get a container and something to cover the pigeon with to keep it warm.

In the process of researching what you do with an injured pigeon, my son discovered that the reason city pigeons’ feet are so manky - one of the many reasons for my former dislike/disgust - is something called string foot. Basically people shed hair all the time, and the hair on pavements ties itself around the pigeon’s feet, winds itself tighter and tighter, cuts off circulation and cripples them, because obviously they (the pigeons) don’t have the dexterity to get it off. Isn’t that so sad? From war heroes to crippled by human hair from the heads of people who are then repulsed by the feet.

BUT! There are also groups that specifically help pigeons with string foot. I mean, I wouldn’t want to join one, one knows one’s limits, but this sort of thing gives me hope and makes me feel such gratitude that pigeon helpers exist. The person who eventually took in this particular pigeon was not, as I immediately assumed, an ancient old man in a vest but a young woman who lived in London Fields. God bless the pigeon helpers.

I came home on Thursday evening and we almost immediately had quite a long power cut. We have an oil-fired Aga (and thank goodness no immediate need to top it up), meaning you can still cook and make cups of tea. I love a power cut, they’re so romantic and ancient-feeling, provided you have loads of candles to hand, which I do. Tails, who is a Norfolk terrier and fossicks about outside in the pitch blackness for hours, really hates power cuts, and went wherever the pools of light from the candles and torch were, doing small anxious yips. Lupin didn’t care at all.

Here are some things I liked this week.

I write these round-up posts for paid subscribers once a week, and for free subscribers once a month. This is a free post. The rest are all here. All posts auto-paywall after 4 weeks. Other currently free things you might have missed recently: this excellent extract from a hilarious/heartbreaking new novel I love; Lucinda Chambers’s shopping picks for March; and another free extract, this one from Gisèle Pelicot’s memoir. There are so many good books coming out at the moment across all genres - more extracts to come. Next week we have free CHICKEN RECIPES.

This exhibition in Ghent

It’s called Unforgettable: Women Artists From Antwerp To Amsterdam, 1600-1750 and I am actually going to get off my arse and go. It’s on until the 31st May and it looks fantastic.

If you’re similarly inspired and need somewhere nice to stay in Ghent, I like here and here. If you’re making a weekend of it, don’t miss the weekly (Fri, Sat, Sun, from early until about lunchtime) flea market, and get there early to beat the dealers. I’ve bought some of my favourite possessions there, including old paintings. Also obviously don’t miss Van Eyck’s ravishing Ghent Altarpiece. Don’t miss any of it, in fact. I really love Ghent. It’s less hellishly touristy than Bruges (which is 20 mins away by train) and because it’s a student town it’s buzzy and alive and feels un-museumlike, despite being in fact very ancient and museumy. Also, quite hard to eat badly.

‘I don’t crave anything new at the moment; I really very strongly want what I have’

A Sartorial Love Story

Talismans

If my clothes have been my familiar armour, my jewelry has been my chain mail…

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a month ago · 26 likes · 13 comments · Louise

I loved this by Louise.

Rabbits

I also really very strongly want what I have, but also perhaps some Easter decorations from Arket.

Or maybe this sheep, who is called Little Bo Sheep.

Mrs Pearcey

This is what I’m reading and will be returning to the moment I post this. I love Lottie Moggach’s writing. Her latest novel is a reimagining of a scandalous real-life Victorian crime, and so far it’s unputdownable. You can buy it here, and listen to Lottie talking about it below.

Miracle Balm in this exact shade

It’s a new one called Dusty Rose and it is beautiful. Some people get on with Miracle Balm - it’s kind of like tinted Vaseline - and some people don’t. I find it invaluable for adding a bit of flush and gleam wherever you’d like it. For me that’s cheeks, the high part of the forehead and sometimes lips. It’s so, so easy to apply (NB you have to break the seal - get your nail in there to pierce the surface, don’t just dab your finger over it or nothing will happen). It’s very hard to mess up and the amount of flush and gleam is just right. But this specific colour! I can’t recommend it enough, unless obviously you’re too dark for it, in which case have a look at Sunkissed. It comes in a mini size, which is perfect because a little goes a long way.

This list of what Elissa Altman knows at 60

Poor Man's Feast

what I know

On June 29th, 2023, I wrote this list on the occasion of my sixtieth birthday. It all still holds, and on the 29th this year, I will be adding to it. But for now, here is what I knew in 2023, what I thought I knew, and what I got totally wrong…

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3 years ago · 423 likes · 82 comments · Elissa Altman

Outstanding, though she’s wrong on 27 (but so right on 57. And on every other number, come to that).

This eye palette

And Bay Garnett is so right about this being the best palette. I wrote about it in my beauty column last year, here.

‘I don’t possess this house. This house possesses me’

Sophia Amoruso

I don't possess this house. This house possesses me.

I’m standing in my house in Los Angeles, and just packed a 20-foot shipping container to London. Moving my furniture out for the last time. The house sold. And I wanted to write this before I left…

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a month ago · 485 likes · 113 comments · Sophia Amoruso

This extreme funniness

Love, The Airport

People I Worry Aren't Enjoying the Garden of Earthly Delights as Much as They Expected.

In Hieronymus Bosch’s famous triptych ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’, the left-hand panel shows the Garden of Eden, all peaceful and holy, with Adam and Eve getting a sneak preview of Jesus, while nearby a duck reads a book. The right-hand panel shows the torments of Hell, where naturally things are rather more lively. Fair enough: Hell is hell; don’t do the crime if you can’t take an eternity of demons blowing swifts out of your bottom…

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a month ago · 52 likes · 14 comments · John Finnemore

I don’t pay-subscribe to John Finnimore yet, but I’m about to remedy that. God, so many paid subscriptions, it’s getting really unmanageable. I’m going to have to do some light pruning, I fear, for a few months, and then prune group B and go back to group A, sort of on rotation. Anyway - even just the free part of this post so, so properly funny. The jerboa!

For lunch

A green salad and Fergus Henderson’s unimprovable recipe for Welsh rarebit. It’s also in this week’s issue of Country Life, where it says the mixture keeps for two weeks in the fridge. DANGEROUS KNOWLEDGE.

Quite a special supper (if you eat meat)

Blue cheese steak and endive salad for two, gift link. Hearty but elegant. Note: Colu Henry writes brilliant, sophisticated but completely doable recipes, many of them actively easy, and has a new book out next week (in the UK). I haven’t read the book yet but I’d be surprised if it weren’t great. Her previous one is a favourite of mine.

In brief:

• Liza Tarbuck’s Radio 2 show has ended. She snuck out without saying. It is a national catastrophe and I can’t bear it. Patricia Nicols understands why perfectly

• (This is how she did it)

• I want to read this book

• James Marriott’s Radio 4 series, How Reading Made Us, is predictably excellent

• Hockney’s Normandy pictures at the Serpentine

• Love this

• And this!

• An extract from Alan Bennett’s diary of his 90th year

• Laetitia made me order whey protein

• Important: kākāpō livestream

• A daily multivitamin could help slow ageing - I mean, who knows, but I feel like you might as well

• (I like this one)

• Pooing

• You are not in your Carolyn era

• You know how I bang on about the genius of the psychoanalyst Stephen Grosz? Here’s an extraordinary long read about him and Love’s Labo(u)r, gift link

• And here’s the extract I ran from Love’s Labour last year - I’ve made it free

• Andrew O’Hagan on the former Duke and Duchess of York. Brace!

• Raffaella Barker on cookbooks

• Emma Gannon on being ordinary

• Women making money isn't a scandal, but our reaction to it might be

• Nice reading list

• I heard this exquisitely beautiful song on Jessie Buckley’s Desert Island Discs and it made all the hairs on my arms stand up

Have a really wonderful weekend! Do please really kindly leave this post a ❤️ if you liked it, thank you, and I’ll be back in the week. Coming up for paid subscribers: the clothes I’m buying for spring (this will appear if and when the weather does what it’s supposed to do, which is NOT TODAY); a few really good things I’ve bought for the new house; paint colours; and a thought about ‘prudishness’. Before that we have personally-tested (meaning I’ve cooked each one more than once) chicken recipes, on Monday. When I will be warm and clean.

PS these are insane, if like me you can’t resist a maraschino cherry. Or marzipan.

I’m so excited to bring you this extract - Big Nobody is one of my favourite novels so far this year. This comes as no surprise to me whatsoever - Alex (who I knew a bit many eon…

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Good morning! This week has been rammed with work, both work-work and house work, as in work on the house (though housework also), so this weekend’s supplement is more of a weekend list, not least because there’s a new floor being laid in the attic, bam bam BAM, and I can’t hear myself think.

Also I have a book event later this evening - I’m writing this on Friday - and I need to swot up a bit. I always breezily think ‘it’s fine, I know the books back to front, I can talk for hours’ in advance of events, and then on the actual day my brain empties of every single discussion point or fact.

I’m very distracted by the news. You’d think we’d be getting used to that particular feeling by now, but it just gets more and more deranged and surreal. My plan is always to reduce my news consumption - I no longer have the papers delivered, for e.g. - since I spend a disproportionate amount of time every day raging at the news, shouting at the news commentary, feeling ill at the people in the news’ idiocy/lies/wickedness, etc etc, while simultaneously seeking out more and more current affairs content. It’s not healthy behaviour. But I don’t think ostriching completely is healthy either, tempting as it is, and I can’t seem to find a happy medium. The problem is that I have Radio 4 on in the background for most of the working day and refuse to give it up except during the 98% terrible afternoon dramas, which usually involve people doing hoarse shouting and making you jump.

Anyway! I also had a really interesting conversation with my therapist about sexual fantasy, because I keep thinking about Gisèle Pelicot’s book (you can read a free extract here), in which her former husband is forever calling her a prude for not wanting to participate in his. I might write about this next week once I am able to formulate complete thoughts. Although plumbing is happening and we’ll have no hot water for four days (insert skunk emoji) which is bad news because most of my thinking happens in the bath.

I write these round-up posts for paid subscribers once a week, and for free subscribers once a month. This is a paid post. Here’s the most recent free one. The rest are all here. All posts auto-paywall after 4 weeks.

Right - here are all the things I liked this week, in one big lump.

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Good morning! Last night I dreamt about dogs going up and down a garden high up in tiny individual red cable cars. The cable cars were open-topped and the dogs sat in them with their ears rippling in the breeze. There were loads of dogs busily travelling, looking very cheerful. Excellent dream.

It was such lovely weather here on Wednesday that I wore a t-shirt, ordered a new small garden sofa, and then decided that what I really needed were these really nice soft loafers, to wear without socks and with an exposed ankle, like a certain kind of European man (slicked-back hair, insistent aftershave, friend with a yacht). On Thursday I was back in my trusty Uniqlo cashmere and big socks. Still, it was a glimpse of what’s to come, and I’m excited about the sofa.

But - that is not all I’m excited about. ‘Excited’ hardly covers it - I am BURSTING.

I write these round-up posts for paid subscribers once a week, and for free subscribers once a month. This is very much a paid post. Here’s the most recent free one. The rest are all here. All posts auto-paywall after 4 weeks.

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Good morning! Today’s post is more like a chat than a roundup - what I’d talk about if you were coming to lunch later (I would feed you the sublime crisp thin…

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Good morning! I have vanquished the germ. Well, about 80% vanquished. I don’t know what it was - the flu, a virus, Covid? - but it was absolutely horrible. You know when you…

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I contain a germ and feel like crap, boiling hot, porridgey in the head and achy in the limbs. It’s Friday evening and instead of starting tomorrow’s post, I’m going to have a bath and then go to bed…

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