Add to List - #71
Driving, Drivers and Parkers, and peacocking
Hello, thank you, and welcome. I love you for being here!
Add to List is my Sunday round-up. It’s the small things that brought me joy, evoked an emotional reaction, or became some short-lived stability in the past eight days.
Obsession
Driving.
It’s rare that I get in a car; in the driver’s seat even more so.
As a Londoner, there is no need for me to possess my own vehicle. And despite how incredibly annoying TFL can be, you can’t fault their ability to sustainably get you from A to B.
I lived in Italy — solo per l’estate — last year. That blissful period seems a hazy dream yet a familiar feeling that sits deep in my bones, and was the time I clocked up the most miles on a dashboard in years. Previously, I’d seen driving as a way to get from A to B, but in the Tuscan mountains I found great catharsis in driving up and down a single track mountain road every day. Windows down, music on, breeze in my hair, commuting to nowhere more important than the local bakery to grab a coffee and a pastry. The incoming sweetness, a reward for letting go of life’s clutch, freewheeling in perfect peace, using the horn as declaration of joy, marking my existence. Beep-beep! Sono-qui! (Occasionally occluded by some overly confident horses.)
And driving in Italy? Well it’s quite different from the UK. And, I’d say my driving probably the most Italian thing about me.
This weekend, I reconnected with that feeling while driving out to house-sit in the countryside (and upgraded to better use of indicators namely to save the people of rural Wiltshire). Behind the wheel, keeping my eyes on the road, I let my imagination luxuriate, then accelerate, as I shifted gears into full dreamer mode. I envisaged a drone zooming out above me (and saw myself become a tiny dot in an Alfa Romeo advert). The sun’s yellow beams peeking through the trees, soulful music coming through the speakers. It was the perfect kind of solitude; the independent activity partnering with my romantic imagination. Life was on hold on this highway. No emails. No to-do lists. No choice but to focus what was unwinding in front of me and enjoy the ride.
Confession
I broke my Vinted rule.
The rule was: No buying, only selling. I caved when on the hunt for a wedding guest dress. This could be a slippery slope. At least it’s a sustainable one though?
Shook
New meanings to ‘Peacocking’
While doing some aforementioned driving, I came across two peacocks. One male’s vibrant plumage quite literally stopped traffic in the village of Corsham while a playing hard-to-get peahen nonchalantly crossed behind in his wake.
Beautiful, bizarre, but did stop me getting to my pub reservation on time.
Cook
Inside-outside-dining.
The wisteria is coming to the end of its seductive reign, draping across buildings, and gently tickling its neighbouring fences and door frames. As it withers, I feel the sense of everyone being ready to give in to the rising hedonism that comes with rising temperatures. Summer is impending with the crescendo of feral oxygen and remnants of last rainfall’s petrichor. Foldable doors open, exposing a sociable murmur; the noisy clattering of plates, a chinking of glasses. Street corners lined with bistro chairs see refractions of lustre off crisp glasses of white wine. For about 2.5 weeks of the year (usually around now) us Brits manage some semblance of European life. These first full weeks of dense sunshine and rapidly warming tarmac see us reveal our ghoulish legs; friends say ‘fuck it’ and they order the wine with lunch; colleagues suggest going out together and make conversation instead of eating solo with their favourite spreadsheet. Suddenly strolling around your own city, you feel like you could be on holiday.
This week, I caught up with a friend who was back from the other side of the world. We dined at Agora, Borough Market while I was reminded the power of friendship across borders and inspired by her adventures and ambitions. And, Agora was wonderful. Their hummus scoops second place on my London ranking (after Berenjak).
Plus, even though most of team
have been in Puglia on location this week. My fellow London PG pal and I made sure we upheld our tradition of a well-fed meet-up with some daily specials from Jolene, Hornsey. The Courgette and Ricotta tasted a little similar to the ravioli we recently learnt to make alongside Theo Randall a few weeks ago at the InterContinental Park Lane: Delicately aromatic, salty, buttery, silky bits of heaven.
Plus, some more bucolic setting for scran in Wiltshire:
Sourdough Pastries and Pizza at Mother + Wild, Corsham
A golden hour glass of Chenin Blanc at The White Horse, Biddestone.
This village felt like a chocolate-box-post-card-rom-com-story-book. I sped (within speed limit, naturally), roof down through winding tree-lined roads then came into this village exuding nothing but slow pace. A duck pond with a mill house! A perfect mown village green with a pub right in the middle! Saddle stones! Vintage cars! Classic country church! Wooden pub signs gently swaying in the wind! A red phone box! An old church! Rose-trestled cottages! At one point an ambulance went past that looked more like a vintage milk truck. I only stayed for 45 minutes, but it felt like I’d travelled back to 1945 for my drink’s duration. It was magical.
Book
All Fours by Miranda July.
Finally! The book everyone, everywhere raved about has arrived in paperback. And rave they should have — this is an addictively dizzying depiction of mid-life, motherhood, and menopause. It’s a sexy, transcendent brilliance of a novel. As a reader, I am confused and aroused. As a writer, nothing short of inspired. July is bold, brazen, brilliant, and writes with a liberatingly contradictory truth very few have penned before.
And while I’m on a driving hype. Here’s just a smattering of joy from one of the opening chapters:
"Well, in life there are Parkers and there are Drivers," he began. "Drivers are able to maintain awareness and engagement even when life is boring. They don't need applause for every little thing. They can get joy from petting a dog or hanging out with their kid and that's enough. This kind of person can do cross-country drives." He took a sip of his drink. Dogs were a hot-button topic for us. Harris and Sam wanted one; I was ambivalent about pets in general. Are we totally sure about the domestication of animals? Will we not look back on this as a kind of slavery? But how to get out of it now when the world is so populated with dogs and cats that can't fend for themselves? It's not humane to just release them. It would have to be a group decision: No more pets after this. This is the last round of them. But that was never going to happen, even if everyone agreed with me, and literally no one did. Being anti-pet (pro-animal!) was one of my least winning qualities.
"Parkers, on the other hand" —and he looked at me — "need a discrete task that seems impossible, something that takes every bit of focus and for which they might receive applause.'Bravo,’ someone might say after they fit the car into an especially tight spot. 'Amazing.’ The rest of the time they're bored and fundamentally kind of…" he looked at the ceiling, trying to think of the right word, "…disappointed. A Parker can't drive across the country. But Parkers are good in emergencies," he added. "They like to save the day."
"I'm definitely a Parker," said Sonja's husband. "I love to save the day."
"Wait, parking is exciting?" said Sonja. "That seems counter-intuitive. Wouldn't driving-"
"Think about it, hon, you have to get the angle just right-”
"Okay, but are Drivers boring? I don't want to be the boring, dependable kind of person." more easily. That's not boring."
"No, not at all," said Harris. "Drivers can have a good time
"I want to be a Parker," Sonja said.
“Too late,” Harris said. “You can’t switch.”
I need to know: Are you a Driver or a Parker?
Look
Thanks to breaking my ‘It’s only for selling’ rule on Vinted I’ve recently purchased a brown satin co-ord. The matching set affliction/addiction continues.
So now the issue of wedding guest outfit is sorted — next stop: shoes.
Can’t Stop Scanning
Slingbacks.
So yes, the shoes. One of the only things I miss about living in Singapore (outside of the brilliant availability of exceptional dumplings) is the shoe selection at Charles & Keith. I quickly amassed a collection of interesting kitten heeled mules and slingbacks. During the pandemic, I would wear them around my studio apartment for whatever my daily zoom activity was.
I’m pleased to see they ship to the UK but the price point works out significantly higher here, for what is good but necessarily the best quality. Oh well, maybe I can try Vinted…
Forward Planning
The wedding I’m attending next week is in Belfast.
I hope that the weather holds for my friends. Regardless, I’m predicting a 99% chance of Guinness and good times.