The light came through the trees at an angle I didn't recognise, golden and unreasonably warm for a city I've mostly experienced in a coat, and I stopped mid-sentence because my body noticed before my brain did. We were on a blanket in Holland Park, Mihir was doing something small with a bag of crisps (I say ‘crisps’ here because proper), and I had the specific, slightly embarrassing thought that I had not felt this uncomplicated in months.

I came to London for four days. Then I extended it to a week, because a few things opened up that I didn't want to say no to, and because London in July is not a punishment. It really isn’t. What was meant to be a break has quietly turned into a work-and-chill trip, which is a slightly ridiculous phrase but it's honest. I'll be in meetings. I'll also be in parks. Nobody's making me choose.

I’d come here thinking switching off was the goal. Big holiday, out-of-office, phone in a drawer, come back a new person. But it’s never quite worked before. I would sit somewhere very beautiful thinking about a deck, and return marginally less tired, and then be tired again by Thursday. The formula never quite added up.

Holland Park was four hours. That's it. Four hours on a Sunday afternoon, a picnic that took eleven seconds to assemble (largely crisps), the kind of walk you do when you have nowhere to be and no case for hurrying. And my head cleared in a way that a proper two-week reset once did not.

I don't have a clean lesson here (you're welcome). Plans change all the time and I've stopped fighting that particular current, mostly because fighting it has never once worked out for me. What I've noticed instead is how small the actual repair job can be, when you let something outside do the fixing. Trees, and the light through them, and a blanket on grass that isn't yours, and someone you like doing something small with a bag of crisps. I know most of you reading this are in Dubai in July, which is to say the grass is not currently an option, and neither is the light, and neither, really, is outside. I get it. So slot in whatever version of it works for you: a cold pool at 7am, a hammam, twenty minutes on the floor doing absolutely nothing, a drive out somewhere flat, a rooftop after the sun goes down. Whatever your nearest equivalent of Holland Park in July is, that's the thing. Make it non-negotiable.

If switching off entirely isn't on the menu, that's fine. I'm in that season too. Just get to your version of green for a bit. Notice something. Let the silence do the fixing. The rest is mostly noise.

M.

A small thing I loved this week: no structure or theme, just sharing some favourites.

Theatre: Can’t be in London and not spoil / amaze ourselves with a live production. Witness for the Prosecution was my first, fully immersive theatre experience, and it just made me appreciate how unequivocally incredible this art form is. Screw you, Timothée.

xx

Manuja

Not for everyone. Never was.