Eating And Reading In A Heatwave

stuff i bought, books i love

We have shutters in our bedroom, and if you want good cool night air to come in, you have to also admit the possibility of light. The shutters close completely one way, which blocks out all breeze; and the other way they kind of half-close, slatted, through which the air can move and so too can the dawn.

The upshot of all of this is that I have been waking up at 4.30 most mornings, not least because I have been quite stressed and thus prone to my usual array of travel-themed nightmares. You need to smuggle this white mouse to Australia! You have lost your passport! You are responsible for trying to get this baby across the Russian borders, and it’s the past and the baby has no papers, and the baby is too slippery to hold in your human hands! Or, as last night: you got off the train for a flat white, not realising that the train was in fact only briefly pausing at Stockport, and now you live in Stockport. My sleeping mind is not a subtle instrument.

Anyway: so it’s half-past four and I am awake.

The best bit about being awake at half past four is that even the most leisurely of morning routines— long scroll through the Has World War Three Started Already, Y/N; short scroll through What To Wear In Thirty Degrees— has you up and dressed by, you know, sixish.

Which is a fantastic time to go for a walk in a heatwave.

What I did this morning, and what made me think about writing this, is went to the World Food Centre and bought the things I most want to eat when it’s hot.

Peaches! Nectarines! Tomatoes! Persian cucumbers, black grapes in pendulous and divided bunches; and huge bunches of dill, coriander, parsley and mint so that my kitchen smells like a French supermarket (and it’s so nice to carry them home sticking out of the top of your bag).

For extra Frenchness, I also bought a baguette from the boulangerie, and then a chicken.