Add to List - #47
It's (prematurely) beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Add to List is the Sunday round-up containing the small things that brought me joy, evoked an emotional reaction or became some short-lived stability in the past 7 days. Thanks for reading!
MEET UP REMINDER: My favourite thing about Substack is the community here. People are always interesting, merry, and bright and in the spirit of that… and I have announced our festive writer meet up. We hope to see some of you there! Sign up here.
Obsession
Bad Sisters.
Horgan is a woman who loves women. She writes with them, inspired by them, and for them.
A second series of the Garvey sisters was always going to be a tough feat; the last season was pretty much perfect television. The show was a harmonious alchemy of comedy, tragedy and psychological thriller packaged up with ingenious structure and a central character arc like no other. Whilst we are without our villain, JP, in this season, and thus, I am missing a character to abhor viscerally, Sharon Horgan has done it again.
She has us guessing; there’s an unravelling of threads to pull on. She’s shattered our world quite quickly within a few episodes, and we never tire of seeing her and the cast’s chemistry on screen. Episode 3 had me sobbing with the truthful performances of heart-breaking grief.
I am also sobbing that I have to wait until Wednesday to watch the next episode. Only this show (and a few others in our streamer climate, e.g. Ted Lasso) could keep me satiated with this non-bingeable TV diet. Now I know the set up, I’m beginning to enjoy the 6-day intermittent television fast. It makes the taste of the latest episode, all that more balanced and bittersweet. Is this the return of event television? I (kinda) hope so.
Confession
I miss Twitter.
There I’ve said it. I’m not proud to admit it.
Not X, specifically Twitter. I stand with the Guardian and their boycotting of Musk but I miss the curt characters, the celebrity wit, the live thoughts…people sharing their comedy views. Mainly, I miss the work opportunities and the discovery of others’ articles.
Twitter, until weeks ago, was a great source of places to hunt for journo requests, comments and a place editors would regularly post call-outs and job opportunities. I’m on a bunch of newsletters, corners of Substack are starting to look similar to this now too, and I have a growing IRL network but it is now, more than ever, inconsistent where we should start following people to get updates and look for work.
Many publications and people have announced the jump to BlueSky? I am starting to dabble. Another startup, another ‘next big thing’. All these platforms? It’s overwhelming.
Shook
The uncanny resemblance of Paul Mescal’s lookalike.
As he says himself, it’s bananas.
Cook
I was lucky enough to taste Adam Smith’s culinary delights this weekend at Woven as part of a festive press trip. The trip was outstanding. The food was my highlight.
Like most Michelin starred meals I’ve been lucky enough to taste, the snacks and the bread course was my favourite. (I am sure the chefs would hate hearing that.) The bread bowl, served with spiralled butter and three other condiments, included a sumptuous cheese croissant that I have been dreaming about ever since.
My favourite course was the modern twist on East End favourites: pie & liquor and jellied eels. Smith came out to speak to us about each of the courses, decorating the food with some family anecdotes of his own. We got a trip down home-cooking memory lane and some of his biggest nostalgic joys. He painted the story of each course perfectly both on and off the plate. Lovely man, even lovelier food.
Book
The Book of Idle Pleasures - Dan Kieran & Tom Hodkingson.
On my stay, I enjoyed the decadence of a long soak in this copper tub. (Is there anything better than a long bath?)
I loved the thoughtful touch of adding a book to my bath tray.
The book is a celebration of the simplest elements of human existence. It reflects on the restorative 75 pastimes we could all do better to engage with in our busy, consumer-driven world. Aptly, number one on the list was ‘Taking a Bath’. That said, after champagne at lunch, I was exceptionally nervous and about dropping it.
Can’t Stop Scanning
My Christmas wreath
So, I made this! And I am now late every time I leave the house because I stand and admire it for a good fifteen minutes before going anywhere. I surprised myself with this one. Quite proud of it.
To be fair, I had a LOT of help and guidance from the lovely folk at Lavender Green. The workshop, part of our activities on the press weekend, saw us jaunted round the grounds on a buggy, taking in the views of the landscape on a crisp, wintery day. Armed with our shears, snipping foliage as we saw fit, we collected our bits of bracken, to later assemble with mulled wine and mince pies. If that’s not going to make you feel festive, I don’t know what is.
“You can’t be too bold or too big,” they said. “We want to see your flamboyant personalities!”
My sister and I once painted pictures with our fingers on holiday and then did ‘art therapy’ on one another, reviewing our handiwork of the landscape. Her analysis of my paper, as she inspected the symmetrical dots in my skyline: “you’re quite measured. Colourful and bright! But here, it looks like you sometimes hold yourself back...” She knows me better than anyone else on this earth. She was spot on.
Did that comment season the creative kernel about to pop within me? Maybe I felt determined to be flamboyant? Maybe the swot in me just wanted to be the festive-gardeners teacher’s pet. Really, I didn't give it too much thought. I kept sticking pretty things into the base.
It was near impossible to see if it looked good until held far away against the wall for an objective review at the end when you could accessorise with bows and pine cones. To make any progress, you just had to get stuck into the process and keep going, thorns and all. Maybe a lesson for us all in seeking creative merriment.
Usually I have a firm rule that until 1st December, it’s too early for Christmas anything. But, if you carried this foliage from Ascot to Waterloo and then on the Northern Line on a VERY busy Saturday afternoon** then I think you would shove it straight on the door too — even in August.
** I even held it above my head at one point to stop the holly from spiking others in the carriage — some passengers loved it and laughed along with me, others really didn’t enjoy my jokes about getting underneath the mistletoe. Bah humbugs!
Forward Planning
Defying Gravity.
Musicals remind me of Christmas too. Nothing screams festive like the joyful cacophony of excited grandchildren rustling in their nan’s lap for another handful of malteasers as the curtains lift to the sound of an overture.
I haven’t seen Wicked yet. I’m desperate to sob my eyes out in the cinema. I’ll go to an off-peak showing on a weekday with my coffee. If I’m left alone, as is usually the case at any 11am Tuesday screening, then I may be able to sing along without judgement.
Until then, I’ll leave you with this Wicked-related Youtube that I can never, ever tire of.