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 seven days.
Obsession
Rosamund Pike in Inter Alia at The National.
How do you follow Prima Facie? With a monodrama starring Rosamund Pike, obviously. One which opens with a ground-up platform raise of bellowing over the sound of rock music: “the fucking patriarchy!!” of course.
Pike stars as a successful Judge working the high-stakes courtrooms filled with domestic abuse and rape convictions. We follow her life, juggling being a great mother, a good wife; balancing her needs and the needs of the men (and their fragile egos) in her household.
The staging is fantastic. A revolving domestic household which comes and goes between nights out at karaoke, and children’s playground in the park.
A sex scene told through the playing of an electric guitar? SO horny. A first time re-enactment of the time she spoke to her teenage son about consent and the incorrect messaging in porn through the vessel of salt and pepper shakers? Comedy genius. But this play? No, this is not an easy watch. Rosamund makes it watchable, beguiling even, but this is a hard-hitting, searing, existential type of a show.
I adore Pike; there isn’t a bad performance in her archives. From the period dramas, to Gone Girl and of course, that iconic Saltburn character. (Actually one of my favourite performances of hers is in a brilliant but terrible film with Simon Pegg called Hector and the Search for Happiness. Her captivation of the audience lies not in her ability to perform but her ability to bring a sincere lovability to all the unhinged characters she plays. I can’t really explain this play without giving away too many spoilers but this is Pike at her best. And an important topic. I urge you to go and see it.
The National always gives me goosebumps but the ending of this play had not just my hairs, but my soul standing on end.
Confession
I downloaded Hinge again.
And you know what? I don’t even hate it that much.
Shook
Even though this newsletter has returned to normal scheduling after last week, I still urge you to take action where you can. Donate, boycott, peacefully protest, write to your MP. More here.
Cook
Highlights this week include:
£8 Vodka martinis at Ellie’s in Dalston; Charli XCX had her post-wedding after party here. And me? Well I proved I am absolutely not ‘BRAT’ because I spent all of the next afternoon throwing up after one too many of them. I fear I may have been put off dirty martinis for life, and that would be a huge shame. So please pray for my recovery in time.
Claypot Noodles, Kohlrabi Salad, Chicken Skewers at Kiln in Soho; a lunchtime delight with my parents — made more interesting by my dad eating an entire chilli but protesting it ‘wasn’t spicy’ while he proceeded to mop his brow with every napkin on the table for the duration of the meal
.
A spoonful of my sister’s bolognese from the fridge, straight out the Tupperware, drunken after a night out.
Book
Deep Cuts, Holly Brickley
This is a book I started last summer and failed to get through. For some reason my brain couldn’t get past the first few chapters — yet, this summer I’ve started again and I am utterly captivated.
(A lesson in how a book can sometimes just be a barometer for where your brain is at).
This is such a fun read. Brimming with nostalgia, heart, and soul; this book reads like the summer melody you wish you could rewind to yourself.
Look
Striped trousers.
People always joke about freelancers working in their PJs? Well, I guess they are kinda right.
Can’t Stop Scanning
Punctuation as Dating App profiles in the New Yorker.
I’m definitely a parentheses.
Forward Planning
This week, Lex Hearth and I are putting the final touches to our next event gathering writers on this platform, which is happening on 17th September.
We will be releasing the details soon on
; make sure you’re subscribed for updates.
Love following along with all you’re creating 💗
there is no bolognese like straight from the fridge cold bolognese...