Welcome to Mother’s Gonna Work it Out – a newsletter not just for mothers with children, but for everyone who cares for anyone.
London this summer seems quieter than usual. I’ve seen way more ‘closed for holidays’ signs taped to shop shutters than ever before, and locals, for the most part, have adopted the gentle pace of tourists.
I’m glad. The hyper-acceleration of life post Covid lockdowns has left us all feeling a bit seasick. We’re not designed to go this fast for this long.
We’re just back to London from our first holiday in a very long time. We spent ten days building sandcastles along north Norfolk’s glorious beaches, raiding expensive farm shops for picnic material, bobbing about in the crystal-clear sea, and watching bats dart across a fading pink sky.
It sounds dreamy, and it was – but it took a minute to create the mental space to enjoy it. It was only on day seven that I felt I’d dialled myself down from a blistered sprint to something closer to a brisk jog.
A night on the cider with our Airbnb hosts, Vicky and Ben, helped. We were staying in a log cabin in a corner of their farm. Ben does the farming and Vicky used to police the police before having their daughter and shifting her attention to managing the home front.
A few cans in, Vicky asked me if I was going to use this time away to do some work, and then, after a beat, stopped herself. ‘Don’t work,’ she instructed, her blue eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Don’t do anything.’ Her air of unassailability cut through any residual doubts that lingered in the soft evening air. Ben handed me another can.
Switching from doing to being isn’t always a simple task, especially when, along with everything else, you’re shepherding a toddler through life. A child with a mind as febrile as the person at that house party who’s done all the gear and can’t decide if they’re having a good time or not.
But it’s worth the effort. My partner frequently references Stephen Covey, author of the bestselling book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, when I’m caught up in doing mode. In his book, Covey dedicates an entire chapter to the concept of sharpening your saw – his metaphor for carving out time to look after yourself. ‘Renewal is the principle – and the process – that empowers us to move on an upward spiral of growth and change, of continuous improvement,’ he writes.
The following morning I put down my mental to-do list and picked up a book instead – Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus, which I demolished in a day, like I’d forgotten how thirsty I was. The book’s about Elizabeth Zott, a female chemist in 1960s America who challenges the patriarchy with her brilliance. I still miss her terribly.
I started on Meg Mason’s Sorrow and Bliss next, but decided to watch reruns of Gogglebox instead. I could still hear Elizabeth Zott pontificating about abiogenesis, and wasn’t quite ready to leave her just yet. Also, Gogglebox is genius.
Then I did something I haven’t done for a very long time. I read an article twice in a row. It was this brilliant piece by Imogen West-Knights about the benefits of an all-inclusive holiday, with such lines as, ‘You can have whatever you want. You can order three drinks at a time, pour them into a single receptacle, drink them and then attend an archery class.’
All-inclusive next time? Maybe, but first, another Gogglebox…
Back home in London, I landed a job with a super-tight deadline. My focus was absolute and I filed on time, giddy with the satisfaction of operating a tuned-up brain. I shut my laptop and watched the trees dancing in the breeze for a good ten minutes.
Perhaps it’s this mastery of the gear change that’s the holy grail – particularly from high to low. Encouraging a plasticity that allows you to comfortably inhabit both the music and the space between the notes. Enjoying the texture this tension creates. Ending every day on the beach.