Polenta isn’t everyone’s thing, but I love it; it’s a comforting substitute for rice or potatoes. In the North of Italy, where corn meal is eaten a lot, polenta was known as “poor man’s food” because it was cheap and filling. This recipe here looks delicious. It’s riff on bangers and mash. I rarely cook, but I may just put a pinny on for this.
There are few words sager than, “one day at a time.” It’s what a wise person said to me in March 2020 when the world turned on its head. I’ve been trying since then to take small bites out of life, only what I can digest, and not looking too far ahead. The weekend forecast? Too far. It’s early Autumn, and with the first few days of October came drizzling rain, orange leaves and cobweb covered hedges. The Halloween decorations are pissing me off, frankly. I find them unsightly and premature. Can’t we just embrace the smell of smoke and falling leaves and the sharpness in the air? Can’t we enjoy the month without feeling catapulted to its gruesome end? My kids on the other hand love the ghouls on our neighbour’s lawns. They love them for the same reason why we plant peonies in the Fall, or buy woolly socks in the height of summer. It gives us something to look forward to. And after 18 months of unpredictability, and countless cancelled plans, we all need to look forward, to whatever it is we are looking forward to. One day at a time.
I just spent a few minutes in Vallabrègues, a village in the South of France known for producing artful basketry and chaiserie, and I’m now imagining myself curled up with a croissant in a wicker chair made with reed harvested in the nearby region of Camargue. This one is from Atelier Vime, the design firm that brought this 18th Century Vallabrègues chateau back to life, and that designs beautiful wicker furnishings that pay homage to the region’s long standing basketry traditions. Each piece is entirely handcrafted using natural, local materials. Designs are modern, but with a nod to the past. Atelier Vime also carries vintage wicker and rattan. 1950s French Riviera chairs? Sign me up.
This is the beautiful home of London based architect, Barbara Weiss, aptly called Upside Down House with bedrooms on the ground floor and living spaces upstairs. I love this idea of turning traditional norms on their head, and creating a design that makes sense for the people living in the home. Worried about losing the ground floor garden, Weiss created one, and now grows plants on the roof. “It’s quite difficult to define what modern living is about,” says Weiss in this lovely film about the Westminster home she shares with her husband. “It is really more about the individual, whereas previous house building was all to do with social mores. Today, I think people are not prepared to be living in the same way as other people are living.” Weiss is of Italian descent and her husband is South African; the house is filled with objects that reference both cultures. “Good interior design is a mixture of accommodating how you use the house and bringing in character and memories and objects that have some sort of connection to you.”
Everything I know about the brain, I learned from my seven-year-old daughter, Luma. The prefrontal cortex, our wise leader, helps us make decisions, plan and focus. The amygdala, our security guard, protects us, and when faced with danger, tells us to fight, flight, or freeze. The brain is extraordinary, and Luma’s simple explanations resonate with one like mine that is overwhelmed by too much information. “The hippo campus is where our memories are stored,” she says on our walk home. “Your hippo campus is huge.” Immediately, I picture a university library inside my head (complete with mahogany wainscotting and soaring shelves) filled with hundreds of thousands of memories. Luma’s short summary on the brain hangs in her room; a gentle reminder to check in with her wise leader from time to time. These works by Rose Sanderson are inspired by the marine life growing on the rocks around the rugged Welsh coast; they also make me think of the brain. I find them quite captivating.
I couldn’t decide between the pink on red stripes or the green on blue ones, and so I bought both. There’s something a little thrilling about buying a sweater in September; with it comes flashes of steaming hot tea, bangers and mash, and chilly walks on leaf littered streets. It won’t be long before my sweaters are bobbling from too much wear and I’m desperate for caftan weather. But today, on this most chilly September day, I’m embracing my new jumper. I may just wear both.