012. Trying.
On the brilliant small humans in my life, my favourite summer spritz, and yet more David Sedaris joy.
As we get older we like to tell ourselves that our free time becomes scarcer and we don’t have enough of it to try new things. But I think a lot of that is self preservation. Lots of us no longer have the fortitude to attempt new things in case we aren’t good at them or don’t even enjoy them. Kids, however, well they simply do not let the fear of mediocrity get in the way of a good time. I’m never not blown away by how much trying there’s involved in being a child - constantly showing up and being a beginner at pretty much everything and trying trying trying until you’re merely competent at a basic life skill. It just seems so bloody bedraggling. Yet you only have to watch children learn to swim to know once they get past the sheer terror how much they relish it. Recently, one of my brilliant small persons school reports congratulated them, amongst other things, for learning to count to 119. It’s quite hard to imagine what it takes to make yourself learn how to count that high when you have such little understanding how numbers work together.
There’s only one thing tougher than turning up to learn something new every single day, and that’s turning up to learn in a setting that isn’t made for you. When your brain isn’t really on board with you sitting down quietly for long periods of time and paying attention to things that don’t interest you, learning is hard, and so turning up each day and trying is all the more phenomenal. Being plunged out of your comfort zone daily is exhausting, and anyone who manages to learn anything in that kind of environment deserves a huge pat on the back. Another of the small, fantastic humans in my life falls in to this category, and his achievements are so, so hard won. I marvel at each fact he relays and every detailed question that he asks. Advocating for him is like turning up to the beach every day and not knowing if you’ll be greeted with gentle waves that scoop you up and make you feel on top of the world, or if you’ll be stung by three jelly fish and step knee deep in dog shit on your way out. And if that sounds like a batshit analogy, that’s because everything about trying to navigate an uncompromising world with neurodivergent children is absolutely batshit. Which is to say, his mother does it all with aplomb. Trying trying trying is what they get up and do every day, and it’s extraordinary.
Another of my favourite small ones school report cheered them for what a fantastic friend they were to their classmates - and I was reminded of a pregnant friend who said the main thing they hoped for with their child was they were kind, that that was the most important thing, and how much that stuck with me. Kindness and empathy are the very best things to learn. So if you’re trying trying trying at the moment and it’s taking the world for you to show up, but you keep showing up anyway, please know you are pretty spectacular.
Nanna’s Summer Sprtiz
I first tried a Rebujito at one of my all time favourite restaurants, Bar 44, and have been hooked ever since. Perfect for something lighter than wine and a break from aperol, I use lemon verbena in place of squeezed lemon for a subtler twist. Get yourself a pot of lemon verbena the next time you’re at the garden centre, and I’ll let this beautiful piece by Mark Diacono sell it to you.
Ingredients
Makes one drink
50ml fino sherry
lemonade
a few leaves of mint
a few leaves of lemon verbena
2 slices of lemon
ice
Method
Fill a large wine glass with ice almost to the top, and then add the rest of the ingredients and give it all a good stir - you’re good to go!
Scale up for a jug if you have guests who, like me, just cannot get on board with sangria.
If you can’t get lemon verbena - swap for 20ml squeezed lemon juice instead for a slightly sweeter finish.
Sherry has a fairly short shelf life, so if you’re looking for ways to use it up try these Sherry Mushrooms.
Micro Doses of Delight
Bazball continues to be both hugely entertaining and a roaring success. Let’s not discuss white ball - seems like there can only be one and we’ll just have to accept that.
My pal sent me this tweet a few weeks ago and I keep randomly snorting to myself over it (NSFW).
If you’re feeling totally overwhelmed at the moment (why wouldn’t you be?!) these are a keen reminder of quite how tiny our silly cock ups are in the grand scheme of things.
I posted this meme on my Instagram stories the other day and it was my most responded to story to date - turns out everyone has A LOT of feelings on hose nozzles and I’ve finally found my tribe!
He’s gone, finally. And the whole party is eating itself trying to find a replacement. It’s only a very fleeting moment of delight though, as I’m always swiftly reminded that it’s us who pay the biggest fine for their ineptitude.
Look at this lad who has randomly turned up in our raised bed amongst the peas! A total show off and none of us can remotely work out how he got there, but we’re absolutely here for him!
Really Good Reads (and Watches)™
I started the week crying in the garden - and you can too! The Madness of Grief by Rev. Richard Coles is a beautiful gut punch of a book about the death of his husband from alcohol addiction. David sounded like an absolutely fascinating man, who was clearly well loved by Richard and their friends and family. I found the opening chapters quite devastating as you already know David doesn’t make it, but you get the measure of how well thought of Richard is by the number of people who scoop him up after. This recent interview in The Times with Coles explaining why he’s stepped away from the church is also worth your weekly free article.
If you want to do a bit more crying - this New Yorker profile on Steve Greig, who adopts elderly dogs from the shelter to give them wonderful last days, is beautiful. “…there are missing eyes, missing jaws, incontinence, and heart disease, among other infirmities; the average age is fifteen. (Greig also has a pig named Bikini, whose gravest condition is laziness, and a turkey named Cranberry, who is blind in one eye and has a disorder that makes him unable to hold his head upright when he’s scared or sleepy.)”
I’m a big fan of the weekly Guardian long reads (previous favourites include this fascinating insight to Aldi with an explainer on “the thrill at the till,” and a deep dive that explains why Nespresso brought out new pods,) and found this look into the secret world of tennis umpires another top read.
I’m only one episode in but absolutely adored Freddie Flintoff’s Field of Dreams, where our ex all rounder goes back to his home town of Preston and attempts to cobble together a cricket team from local school boys. Flintoff is never condescending, rather, genuinely interested in these lads lives and how he can make a little bit of a difference. Also some great laughs when some of the boys google him to find out more about this strange large man who’s turned up to get them to play the “posh” sport.
I want to live in Nigel Slaters garden.
A beautiful look at the life and legacy of Terrence Higgins by those closest to him.
There’s a risk that this newsletter turns into a David Sedaris fan account, but I simply cannot fight that. His New Yorker essay on being with his partner, Hugh, for thirty years, is gorgeous.
And finally - have you stopped thinking about the Open Marriage essay? I have not stopped thinking about the Open Marriage essay.
Huge thanks for taking some time away from the weather to read this instalment, and I hope the Really Good Reads section keeps you from doom-scrolling during this, frankly risible, leadership race. I’d love it if you shared with anyone you think would enjoy. I’m off to celebrate my absurdly wonderful nieces fourth birthday this weekend, and I hope you all have an abundance of Mr Freeze on hand like I will. Thanks, N xo