Hello dear Off-Topicers,
Well, that was a longer time away from your inbox than I was anticipating. Towards the end of May I had a few days’ holiday with my daughter in Carcassonne, and then got spirited away with other things and it’s taken me a while to get back to my normal routine1. But anyway, France. So wonderful, yet so stubbornly carnivorous. It was really a case of eating cheese or principles. I chose cheese. And ice-cream. The cheese salads weren’t anything special, but the daily ice-cream was a joy. We got up late, wandered, boated on the canal, and peppered our days with questions from the Proust Questionnaire. We also borrowed some of these questions from a similar thing in the New York Times, although I defy anyone to finish in the suggested hour (I’ve also done this with my sister and we spent an entire weekend being sent off on tangents by the prompts. It’s fun every time and I think your answers change depending on who you’re doing it with or where you are in your life. Ignore that for the NYT one you’re meant to fall in love; I already love these two and have found it’s completely suitable for friends and family).
I usually make a point of immersing myself in romance novels when I go away - they feel like doubling down on the holidayishness, while also containing my habit to a manageable period (once I’ve started, I actually find it difficult to put them down to do basic things like sleeping that regular reading of them isn’t conducive to life). However, that didn’t happen this time around - I’d just started The Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese before we left for France, and it was too good to stop reading, but I was also making my way too slowly through it’s 700+ pages to start on anything else. So last weekend when everyone else was doing their own thing, I finally read two Annabel Monaghan novels back to back and they were totally delicious and joyful (this one and this one - if you like Emily Henry or Ali Hazelwood and would list Dirty Dancing amongst your favourite films, you’ll probably love them. For everyone else, there’s nothing to see here). In case you’re interested, I loved The Covenant of Water - it reminded me of Rohinton Mistry’s glorious A Fine Balance in places, although I felt TCoW possibly introduced a few too many side characters’ stories, which removed the focus from the ones I wanted to spend the most time with and also made the novel feel a little longer than I would have liked (and I do love thick books). But it’s beautifully written and still very much worth reading.
I’ve recently been watching Hijack with my husband (I still haven’t come across a bad thing made for Apple TV), starring Idris Elba. Probably not for anxious flyers, but for everyone else, utterly gripping. It’s landing episode by episode, so we’re now in that painful place of having to wait for a new one to arrive every Tuesday (which is also a brilliant place, because there’s so much more anticipation and excitement in this traditional approach to viewing, despite also being fundamentally frustrating).
Over lunch yesterday, I read an essay in The Paris Review by CJ Hauser called The Crane Wife (if you’re reading, thank you for the excellent recommendation, Rowan 💛). It’s about a woman breaking off an engagement and going on an expedition to study the whooping crane. She weaves these two events together beautifully, and there’s a lovely bit about the face of the moon, and also the basic kindness of someone seeing what you need. It also explains the Japanese parable of the crane wife, which I wasn’t familiar with, but which made me think how much I love coming across something that immediately gives greater depth to several other favourites that have their roots in a similar place. In this case, the poem Angel Wings by Brian Patten; and The Curse by Josh Ritter, which the most gorgeously sad song telling the story of an archaeologist bringing a mummified body back to a New York museum and how she pays for this. Song here or lyrics here, if you prefer to read rather than listen.
With love,
Florence x
Ps. I’m quite excited2 by the advent of Threads, Instagram’s alternative to Twitter. About a decade ago, I loved Twitter for its gathered-around-the-water-cooler feel, but I gradually stopped saying anything and really only used it for friendly lurking or to respond to what others were saying3. Apparently ten million of us have signed up to Threads in just one day though, so I’m wondering if others might have been feeling the same way. If you’d like to crinkle cups together4, you can find me here (or by searching @flossieteacakes).
I imagine there may be some scoffing over the idea of my irregular newsletter deliveries having any kind of routine to them…and that would be true. But in my head, there are at least required conditions for writing them and the past few weeks haven’t even come close to meeting those. They have, however, provided extremely good conditions for painting and decorating and in my spare time I have tackled the front door, the shower room, and my daughter’s bedroom (in truth, I have no idea how long she might use this room as she’s now graduated and is back home - possibly temporarily - while doing internships, but either way, I wanted it to feel like a nice space for her to come back to for a weekend or for a year).
Yes, really.
I think one of the problems with social media, is that if you stop posting regularly, when you finally do feel like saying something, that initial reappearance can suddenly feel oddly weighted. As though, for example, you’re talking about not just a good toasted sandwich, but a toasted sandwich of great importance, that appears to be the first thing in all the previously quiet months and years that you’ve found worthy of talking about. When in reality, it’s just a toasted sandwich: it didn’t mean that much, but you suddenly felt sociable and wanted to share. And that weird tension always just makes me feel it’s easier to carry on not saying anything. So I think the lesson is probably to keep talking, although that lesson doesn’t necessarily suit the habits of a person who sometimes feels happier being the chat-ee than the chat-er (or occasionally, completely mute). But still, it’s nice to be offered this fresh notepad of sociability and, for now, I aspire to use it more properly.
This possibly shows how many years it is (about twenty-one) since I’ve worked in an office - I’m guessing they don’t have crinkly plastic cups that you can slowly crush and crinkle while chatting. In the same vein, I was talking with a friend recently and mentioned being a secretary when I first started working and she told me they’re no longer called that - it’s actually Executive Assistant - and I realised how much existing outside an office environment has isolated me from subtle changes like this. Although personally, I still love the term secretary and its allusion to being a trusted keeper of secrets.
LOVE your writing, so evocative and great links 😁 you always make me feel like the best version of myself in leading me to explore thoughts and feelings so thank you🥰
I was laughing out loud (can you say 'loling'?) on my commuter coach reading about the toasted sandwich dilemma! Brilliant. Will now join Threads and talk all the time as a result! And with regards to what was formally known as secretaries, the role is called 'EA' or executive assistant in my company but I think it is more commonly known as 'PA' or personal assistant, so I may have misinformed you! Apologies. I don't think any companies with an ethical environmental/sustainability agenda would have crinkle cups any more. More likely to be washable glasses these days! But you really aren't missing anything by not being in an office. xxx