We’re all getting a bit sick of corona now, aren’t we? So I thought I’d write about something positive that has come out of this mess: community. I never thought there was a community-shaped hole in my life. What even is a community, after all? A bunch of stragglers meeting in a church hall and sipping tea out of chipped mugs? No thank you.
For the majority of my adult life, I have been more than happy to slip in and out of my neighbourhood unnoticed. My family and friends are dotted all over the place; I never really noticed the people on my doorstep.
When I lived in a high-rise rabbit hutch in Hong Kong in my late twenties, I would only see evidence of my neighbours in the lift, and even then, we would all studiously avoid eye contact. Later, when I moved to a flat in London, I would occasionally spy on people having a bbq in the communal garden and wonder fleetingly who on earth they were, but that was it. In my current house, a squished terrace, I couldn’t have pointed out even my closest neighbours in a line up. Until covid.
One of the first things to happen back in April was the rise of the WhatsApp street group. When I sceptically joined mine at the height of lockdown, I was surprised to find that I felt weirdly reassured by it. There was Emma at number 45, offering to pick up prescriptions. And Ravi at number 20, who’d got two litres of milk going spare. After Caitlin at number 60 did a shout-out for wine corks for her daughter’s school project, I felt a warm glow when she sent the photo of the finished product; a raft, sailing steadily in the bath. Our street’s collective booze intake had made that happen. Well done us.
A few weeks into lockdown and desperate for outdoor space, I bought a garden bench and parked it in front of my house, where I would laze around, reading in the sun during my lunch breaks. My neighbours would stop to chat on their daily walks, and slowly, they transformed into real people, with actual names, not to mention interesting jobs, hyperactive children and relatable worries. Even Coco befriended a wire-haired dachshund from three doors down.
I wonder, if it wasn’t for lockdown, whether I would ever have known that six women on my street, including my next door neighbour, were pregnant, like me, all due within weeks of each other. I wonder whether I’d have inherited a high chair from number 70, a moses basket from number 31 – and a last minute parking permit from number 12 – were it not for the fact that the street group also acts like a hyper-convenient eBay.
What strikes me, now that we are all neighbourly neighbours, is how weird it is that we ever weren’t. As they have known all along on Ramsay Street, there is value in knowing those closest to you.
And although our long-planned street party is off, thanks to the new and slightly dystopian-sounding ‘rule of six’, we at least have this new sense of community to celebrate. And not a chipped mug in sight.
Dx
THE HOME COMFORTS INTERVIEW…. WITH SOPHIA MONEY-COUTTS
Sophia Money-Coutts is a writer, columnist and the author of a lot of brilliant books including my personal favourite, The Wish List. She’s now also the host of Freezing Time, a new podcast about the hormonal and emotional ups and downs of undergoing egg freezing. I listened with some form of weird nostalgia, having frozen mine about five years ago, and absolutely loved it.
Where do you live and how would you describe your home in three words?
I’ve just moved to my new place in Crystal Palace. I fell in love with the area – so green! Actual woods! Sublime views of London! – while living with my sister during lockdown and decided to settle there for good. It originally became fashionable with the Victorians, who built big weekend houses there because it’s so hilly and therefore was above the smog in the city. It feels quite villagey now and people seem to discover it and stay forever. My place was owned by the same family for 40 years and has these incredible high ceilings and wooden floors, but needs a lot of love, so in three words it’s ‘a big project.’
Who is at home with you?
Nobody. Bliss. After six months of living with my sister and her daughters, I’m relishing the peace of being back in my own space again, and not having to fight for the telly, or open the fridge and realise we’re out of milk. Deeply selfish, I know.
Current TV obsession?
The BBC’S Harlots is a rip-roaring series about brothels, set in Georgian London, and with a brilliant cast. Racy, funny, properly good escapism. Also, Samantha Morton’s breasts should be award-nominated themselves.
Best home comfort meal?
Toast. If I could live off toast, I would. (And some weeks, I do.) Spread so thickly with Lurpak Spreadable it drips through to the plate, plus my mum’s pink grapefruit marmalade.
Favourite section of the Sunday papers?
I fear it’s a sign of age that I now reach for the Culture section of The Sunday Times first, to leaf through the book reviews and check out what I should watch on telly that week. And I agree with almost everything that India Knight writes.
Book currently on your bedside table?
I’ve just finished the sublime, heart-achingly wonderful Small Pleasures by Clare Chambers. It’s a moving, funny and romantic story set in south London in 1957 and I don’t want to tell you anything about it, because I think it’s better to come to it not knowing anything. But I can’t recommend it enough. I’ve also fallen in love with Curtis Sittenfeld recently, whose most recent book is Rodham, a fictionalised account of Hilary Clinton’s life (the premise: what might have happened if she’d turned Bill down?). But actually I prefer her previous novel, American Wife, which is a fictionalised account of George W Bush’s wife, Laura. More gripping than they sound if you’re not remotely into American politics, and the latter, disturbingly, makes you fancy George Bush. She’s incredibly perceptive about women.
Background noise in your house?
Generally silence if I’m at my desk writing, apart from me muttering sentences to myself and the odd bark of laughter if I laugh at my own joke (this probably happens too often). But I’m a big fan of The Times’ new radio station, snappily named Times Radio. It’s chit-chat all day, which means that when Radio 4 is playing some boring old play in the afternoon, you can still listen to people discussing that day’s big talking points in a sensible, not-rabid way.
Bath or shower?
Bath. Always. Obsessed with baths. Once had four in a day. As deep as possible so I can lie back and the water is right up to my chin, no sort of oil or bubbles of any sort, just soap, get out and lie steaming on my bed with lobster-red legs, wrapped in my White Company dressing gown. Always have to bath before bed, even if super pissed.
Favourite house scent?
I’m almost turned on whenever I cut into a new bag of ground coffee. And, as a treat, I’ve just bought myself a giant Diptyque candle in Baies – the one that’s sweet and smells like roses and blackcurrants. Not a very original choice and it was so expensive I now can’t afford to eat. But my hallway will smell delicious, so that’s something.
How well do you know your next door neighbours?
Hardly at all, yet, since I’ve only just moved in. But there’s an elderly lady who lives above me and I’ve left a jar of marmalade on her doorstep as a ‘Hello, I’m your new neighbour but, don’t worry, I won’t have any loud parties’ present.
Your favourite home from home?
My dad and step-mother live in a rambling Spanish farmhouse high on a hill, surrounded by an olive grove, in Catalonia. In normal times, my siblings and I all pile out there for holidays and we drink cheap rosado (Spanish rosé) and eat jamon and just laugh for days. I’m keeping all my fingers crossed that we can make it out there for Christmas.
The Freezing Time podcast is out now - listen here.
TV STUFF
This is Paris - So it seems YouTube is now a TV channel. I don’t get it, either. But this documentary about Paris Hilton is actually really compelling. It starts with her playing around with her dog, Diamond - so far, so predictable – but goes on to open the door on a life that seems both tragic and privileged in equal measure. I was hooked.
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The Social Dilemma - The fact that I was scrolling through Instagram for most of this Netflix documentary about social media brainwashing suggests it is too late for me to be saved. I’ve seen others debating it via Twitter, questioning whether or not to unplug and run, which is a bit like asking the school bully what to do about the school bully.
BOOK STUFF
I’ve finally read a book! For some reason, lockdown has made it incredibly hard for me to read anything over 280 characters, but that was before I started Such a Fun Age, by American author Kiley Reid. The Atlantic described it as ‘satirising the white pursuit of wokeness’ and I can’t possibly put it more intelligently than that, so maybe just read their review here.
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Modern Delight is a book I dip into all the time if I’m in need of a mood lifter. It’s filled with short essays (by everyone from Stephen Fry to Bill Nighy and India Knight) on the everyday stuff that brings people joy (think roast potatoes, mowing the lawn and Sundays). I can happily spend an hour or so pondering my current top Modern Delight and reckon I could easily write a chapter on the joys of polishing off a whole bag of Twirl Bites fresh from the fridge. Controversial stance on the chilled chocolate, I know.
SCROLLING STUFF
Picture This app - I downloaded this at the beginning of lockdown for my daily walk, but it’s still going strong. Point your camera at any flower and this app will tell you in seconds exactly what it is. It’s the reason I can now say with confidence that I love a blue passion flower (see below), but feel less strongly about heavenly bamboo. Who knew?
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We all love a bit of life advice don’t we? This, from journalist Oliver Burkeman, includes some enlightening suggestions on living a fulfilled life. My personal favourite, as somebody who is pathologically indecisive, is this; “Major personal decisions should be made not by asking, “Will this make me happy?”, but “Will this choice enlarge me or diminish me?” Genius.
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Interesting piece in Wired about the rise of newsletters. It seems you’ve tapped into the zeitgeist just by reading this very sentence.
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Hotel buffets. Totally agree with Joel Golby in this piece – you can tell a lot about a person from their buffet behaviour. And he’s rightfully concerned that Covid might spell the end of helping yourself to multiple hash browns.
SHOPPING STUFF
I don’t understand the weather at the moment. Nor do I understand how Amazon now stocks fashion stuff that I actually want. Have we moved into coat season yet? I’m not sure, but this rather lovely one is only £55. Once you see how much it creases, you’ll understand why. But, if you’re short on cash and think that every wardrobe deserves a camel coat (it does), then I can highly recommend it.
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Last issue, I wrote about Call my Agent and how everyone on the show is French and super stylish. This week, I bring you Ines de la Fressange’s new Uniqlo collaboration, making Parisian chic available to all. I snapped up this jumper (£35) because a Breton stripe, a good pair of denims (and a slightly crumpled camel coat) are never going to be wrong.
On that note, I must go and eat a bag of ice-cold Twirl Bites on my sofa, which is not very Parisian of me at all. Hey ho.
À la prochaine.
Dx
P.S I am also the author of “Bolder - Life Lessons from people older and wiser than you” - available to buy on Amazon here – and currently in development with Universal.
By the way, the illustration for Nesting was created by my exceptionally talented friend Julia Murray in New Zealand.
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