#21 The Offcuts
Confessions best served under a dome cover
This week is a bit of a chunky Offcut. Filled to the brim. Well stuffed. So I won’t ramble on and I’ll just let you dive straight on in.
I’ll confess but if you’re eagle-eyed you’ll already know I haven’t mentioned a new book I’ve read in ages. It’s all been articles. Which is fine I suppose. But I have been struggling so hard (poor me) to get through this one book that I almost lost the will to bookstagram. It was tough but I pushed through. Usually, when this happens the thing that brings me back is reading a trashy un-put-downable thriller novel. I’ll have a look at what I’ve got on my Kindle.
I did read this piece about “girl” trends. Think the likes of hot girl summer and girl dinner. I actually wrote something a while ago about lazy girl jobs. Is it a reclamation of nostalgic female youth? Or an infantilising and belittling betrayal of women? Perhaps it’s not that deep at all and speaks purely to the rise of ‘trend’ journalism where one TikTok video goes viral and the hype is all over as fast as it began. The article also references a 2016 essay by Robin Wasserman, who wrote that the narrative and definition of “girl” is less about age specifically and more about her story. Whereby a “girl’s” story is the transition into womanhood and being a ‘woman’ is synonymous with the erasure of self and the morphing into becoming someone’s wife, someone’s mother. Gulp.
What’s that, a new true crime on Netflix out tomorrow? Cancel my plans. (I didn’t have any anyway but I like to appear busy at face value). Jill Dando was a journalist and a BBC newsreader. She was murdered in 1999 on her own doorstep by a single gunshot wound and the case is still unsolved. I’d never heard of Jill Dando before and just scratching at the surface I’ve already seen some wild genuine lines of police inquiry into her death. I’ll be on my way to forging my own theories this time tomorrow.
I love a cloche, I’ve decided. I also love saying the word cloche. What’s the multiple of cloche? No one knows. Perhaps in the history of the cloche, no one has ever asked. Cloches? Clochi? Not sure why people who talk about romanticising your life your life haven’t jumped on this one yet. That thrill is unmatched when the cloche is lifted and there’s a small element of surprise that what you expect to be underneath is actually something different. Unless it’s a glass one of course, like a cloche for plants or candles. Maybe I’ll buy my own cloche so I can eat my midweek spinach and ricotta ravioli with some pazazz. Bon app the feet.
I am sick of seeing videos of rugs getting cleaned. I’m not sure what bogus algorithm has decided to target me with this but it needs to stop. Do you hear me, Zucky? All the rugs are so ugly even when they are cleaned they should just have gone straight to landfill. Cut out the middleman. Joking, I’m obviously very sustainably conscious and support the new lease of life injected into these monstrosities. Just stop filming it, I beg.
Going into this week, I want to set realistic expectations for myself and equally not be too hard on myself if I don’t get everything done I want to. Being away on this trip (sorry I had to get it in somewhere and managed to wait until the end) I’ve followed my usual pattern. Giving myself too much to do, to read, to write about and to risk feeling like the whole trip was a failure because of it. So I’m resisting against it and I’m going to be proud of all my achievements, big or small, albeit less or more than what I set out for.
