Am I still allowed to post this halfway into October?
September’s highlight is the hike that left my legs feeling like jelly for a few days. North Wales will always be my favourite place on Earth, and half of my siblings and I decided to tackle the moody and rugged Cadair Idris.
We stayed in a cute cottage in a tiny hamlet – it was unbelievably quiet, save for the bleating of sheep and the sounds of the nearby streams. Phone reception was nonexistent. Every now and then the neighbours would stand outside for a quiet natter, or children would ride past on their bikes. I took a stroll down the road one morning and thought about whether I could live in this bubble – and for a moment it was blindingly obvious that I could. Peaceful, close, far away from the rest of the world and its issues. It would be hard not having every single thing at my fingertips – takeaways, next day (and same day) deliveries, things to do and such – but the peace I felt was incredible. The lack of light pollution was soothing, even if it did feel like stepping out of the front door in the dark would have me falling into the abyss.
Obviously, it’s sadly only a dream. I realise you can take the gal out of London but you can never take the London out of the gal, really. Take me too far away, and I’ll feel suffocated, itching for the richness and griminess of the best city in the world. My body is wired to run at 100mph and is still learning to slow down. But one day, I hope.Read more
Autumn is the second best season to read books in.
I am shrouded in cosiness and the warming feeling that the festive period is just around the corner. Although the weather usually dips to something that makes it acceptable to stay indoors, I’m still trying to be out and about before wind and ice make an appearance. It’s actually hitting 26 degrees in London next week, so I’m wondering if I should be telling you to read books that transport you to the sweltering heat of 1920s New York instead…
Regardless, I’m interested in walking on crunchy leaves and seeing what autumnal offerings the coffee shops have for me. Pumpkin spice? Maple? Hot apple? Give it to me. I’ll curl up with a book and my black forest hot chocolate (or is that a winter thing? Global warming has kicked all seasonal knowledge out of my head…).
I know a lot of people opt for cosy books to read this season – low orange lights, candles, mild weather, orange leaves, a cute romance – but I’m not a cosy book reader.
The last time I tried, I managed three pages of the Pumpkin Spice Cafe before I deleted it from my Kindle immediately and rinsed my eyeballs. I like a gothic novel, or something crimey and thrillery – but my favourite autumn and winter reads are philosophical stories that force me to withdraw and take the time to get to know the things I ignore about myself. And the world around me. While we all have some downtime and nobody is paying attention.
So here are some not-cosy book recommendations for the next couple of months:
I feel like August was a roller-coaster month. The month went by so quickly, but also seemed to be a massive slog. Unusual during the summer that people typically never want to end, but I have never really been a summer person.
Good old British weather is having an identity crisis, one that I’d like it to fix if people would be so kind as to stop polluting the Earth. The heatwaves left me incapacitated and I seem to have done nothing but eat and spend money this month. Read more
Happy new year! It’s still appropriate to say that, right?
January is grey and bleak. You’re broke, fat, depressed, and severely conscious of how far away you are from whatever goals you set 365 days ago, and the 365 before that. You can’t fathom where the entire previous year went; it all feels like a blur that passed you by far too quickly, and you’re desperate to go back in time to savour each and every minute you let waste away. But you can’t.
Cue the blues.
This is a feeling that, sadly, escapes almost none of us. No matter how fully you have lived, no matter how happy you are with how you spent the year, you’re always left with that gut-punching feeling of time is slipping from me. It’s painfully obvious that there’s only one solution to this, because unfortunately nobody has come into possession of Bernard’s watch:
Make the decision to live slowly and more consciously.
You can’t go back and relive those precious days, but you can do something with your newfound self-awareness. I like to think I do this already, but, in my desperate attempt, I actually end up doing the opposite.
My mind is always going at a thousand miles an hour and I wring my days dry until I’ve squeezed out every minute. The result is that I don’t feel like I’ve truly been living; I’ve simply ticked a lot of boxes off my to-do lists. In trying to be productive every day, I’ve ultimately made a full time job out of living in which I must fill a quota in order to be satisfied with how my day went. Wake up. Go to the gym. Go to work. Read this many pages. Go to the park on that day. These days don’t add up to a successful period of living: they are confined to what they are, which is a day of robotically doing things I pencilled in just to feel like I am making use of my time. I need to stop clocking in and out of my life and just live.
I am obsessed with poring over my calendar to make sure every waking minute is filled with useful things — but I don’t want to just have useful days. Those aren’t memorable. Reading and writing and a hundred walks through Richmond Park are not memorable; it is not the act itself that we remember, but the memories we attach to them. It’s the lessons in strength and perseverance that hundreds of characters have displayed in varying ways, it’s learning how to get our thoughts down on paper in creative ways, it’s when we stepped ankle deep in mud to get close to the deer and had to put our shoes into plastic bags before getting into my car. My point is, you should be living life and relishing both the ups and downs rather than letting it pass you by.
The way you do this will be personal to you. You should know how to ground yourself, you will know what makes you feel present and alive. It doesn’t have to be something monumental; it could be as small as sitting outside for ten minutes a day or as big as spending a weekend swimming in the ocean every month.
Despite the incessant moaning and groaning of English Folk (read: Londoners, mostly) on the odd super cold day, I actually feel like winter has been quite forgiving so far this year. In fact, I admit I’ve woken up some mornings saying ‘Hey. You know what? I could go for a walk today because it’s so crisp and delicious outside!’ And, though my nose feels like an ice cube, I am content. I seem to have foregone the usual bout of SAD this year, though I’m unsure if that’s partly because of my recovery time off work.
Nevertheless, winter, to me, is a time for doing almost nothing outdoors except the bare minimum. Yes, the Christmas markets are up and running, enticing us to leave our cosy homes for promises of a bustling, vibrant atmosphere that includes Mariah Carey playing much too loudly on a speaker nobody can locate and a £7 hot chocolate that we could have made at home without being sardine-packed on the Piccadilly Line. But what else is there to do outside this cute, expensive little activity?
There is many a festive menu across all restaurants, and enough limited martinis that now have a generous sprinkling of icing sugar snow dusted on the side of the glass. We’re being reminded that, actually, there is a lot to leave your house for, guilted into staying indoors instead of venturing into the cold. It’s December and I haven’t even been to any Christmas markets! Or the outdoor ice-rink! I haven’t been to see a single flashing light and I’ve missed Winter Wonderland, a heaving extortionate waste of time that I now have to pay and queue up for!
So anyway, I’ve thought about the winter goals I have that don’t necessarily mean doing festive things because, truly, I very much enjoy the weather that forces me to stay indoors. What a shame, I can’t go outside, it’s raining. Damn it. Actually, I’m blissfully happy laying in bed with the lightbulb red, asking Alexa to play metal while I write, so I can really feel like I’m in a dungeon. Can’t do that when it’s sunny at 8pm.
I would, on a normal day, like to have some mulled wine and chestnuts, but it’s not something I’m going to pen down and venture into the crap weather and ginormous crowds for; don’t get me started on Christmas crowds because I’m exhausted just thinking about them. There are plenty of indoor and introspective goals to be achieved in Winter, especially for an introverted dopamine-chasing hermit who absolutely loves their own company and will look for any excuse to stay indoors.
Here are my five winter goals. Let me know if you have any of your own that I can draw inspiration from!
The evening went amazingly well, even better than your week of fantasies thought it would; each night of charming conversation from the moment you swiped right all culminating to this very moment, the way God intended. A candlelit dinner ending in laughter over wine and a shared tiramisu, a walk along the river with his hand on the small of your back; you exchanged stories about your youth, he told you his mother would just love you. The chemistry is off the charts and you can’t wait to go home all giddy and starry-eyed.
Now you’re in his car. And he’s rapping.
The fire has been blanketed and you’re dryer than his mouth during the five minutes he’s spent delivering rhyming couplets to you and you’re looking for a swift exit. You’re too gobsmacked, too stunned to ask him why, why are you subjecting me to this? so you endure until it’s time to go home and get back on T*nder.
Unfortunately, it will most definitely happen again. Fortunately, you can keep these tips handy for the next time you’re trapped behind the bars of an unwarranted fire-in-the-booth session. Read more
