The New Yorker in the bath

Luckily, the New Yorker didn't actually end up in the bath, otherwise I would have been most distressed. But I was in the bath and was deftly holding my New Yorker above water level whilst reading a review of Killing Them Softly (which I proceeded to order from Amazon because it sounded fascinating).

Then, while typing and scribing to friends living far afield I wore my writing gloves. Writing gloves? Yes, writing gloves. They are both for writing and have writing upon them. Quirky.

Sometimes buying flowers for yourself is a lovely thing to do, and yesterday I tried making bread for the first time in my life. (It is edible and leans towards yummy, which for a first go I think is pretty good.) Terribly homely I know.

Greg Proops was absolutely hilarious on Tuesday at the Soho Theatre. And I even caught a free t-shirt! That was my second of the day, along with a British and Irish Lions mini rugby ball. Everyone loves a freebie.


I show and tell you all of these things, because while in the bath I felt precisely like myself. Do you ever get that feeling? Where it's all just in place, and you hadn't noticed that it wasn't, but for that moment you feel that little bit lighter and that little bit higher. And all of a sudden you can laugh, shrug, nudge, wryly smile and bask in the simplest of things, which seem to make you who you are.

I made some non-resolutions back in January, which included stepping outside of my literary comfort zone, but I have stepped outside of more than that so far this year - I ran a 5K (27.18 thanks very much), navigated all sorts of places and events in London (turns out I'm a natural on the Tube, and bloody love those busy streets) and made new friends (always scary for a not-so-secret introvert).

It has come to be that some of these things have fallen neatly into my comfort zone and joined the things that I love, and by doing so make me, me. Others haven't (I'm sorry, I'm just not a runner!) But after that little moment in the bath I realised it's time to think about the next instalment.

So, in no particular order, let me tell you some things, big and small, that I plan to include in my next six months so that when I'm sitting in the bath with my New Yorker at Christmas time, I can think about all the things that make me, me, and I can point at one or two that are new, and some others that got some love and attention because for me to be me they always should.

  • Reading is my input. I love other input - films, art, photography, events - but reading is my core nourishment and I simply have not done enough this year. I'm currently on Eric Reis The Lean Startup, and next I'm going back to Jonathan Lethem. I miss him.
  • Along those same wordy lines, I already read the New Yorker with breakfast, but I need some business input too. So HBR with dinner is the new mid-year resolution.
  • By Christmas please, please, please let me be able to say I have been able to restart my subscription to the New Yorker. Oh please. (I'm working through some back issues just now, but I only have so many).
  • I shall be travelling to familiar places to see some familiar faces in France. This is where I'll get to see the sea - one of the old things that makes me, me.
  • October brings the dream. THE dream. New York. There will be more on this. Oh yes. That I can guarantee.
  • Live comedy. I love it but have been to none in Oxford since arriving. This is my failure for not trying. This shall be rectified.
  • The other dream. This one has to stay under wraps for now. It's a pretty big one, but there's some saying about chickens and counting...
  • I want something here that I haven't thought of because it's so outside my norm. Any ideas?...