The best of everything
(An entirely subjective and quite bossy round-up absolutely no one asked for)
Well, hello again.
I know it’s been a while. This, in part, is down to a small existential crisis I’ve been having about what I’m doing in life (generally) and (specifically) social media (is it time to leave? I think it might be).
As such, I haven’t really known what to write. There’ve been two different newsletters I’ve been composing on-and-off in my head: The first on why, like a lot of people, I’ve fallen out of love with posting/sharing online, and another on getting back on the merry-go-round of recurrent miscarriage investigations (Am I really doing this again? Apparently yes, yes I am).
However, both topics feel a bit….involved….for a first newsletter back. So instead, to rip the band-aid off, I’m offering you this list of things I think are the best, in a range of obscure-to-basic categories.
It’s essentially a list of things I like. It’s no more complicated than that, but if you need something a bit deeper, I highly recommend making lists of things you like as a psychological coping tool: years ago, somewhere between miscarriages three and four, I started keeping a ‘like’ list in a little white leather notebook that I kept by my bed.
I only really did it to begin with because someone had given me the tiny notebook – smaller than an iPhone - as a gift and I didn’t know what else to do with a notebook that dinky.
I think writing lists of things you like helps because it’s gratitude-adjacent. And the self-help thing everyone always recommends is gratitude.
But, at that time in my life, the notion of striving to be grateful really got my back up. It can become quite a loaded, tricksy concept, I think, gratitude. Even when, in the middle of an objectively horrible time, I still had all kinds of things I could and should have been grateful for. Yet noting them down didn’t feel particularly accessible. Or like something I wanted to do. It just made me want to punch walls, honestly.
But simply jotting down things I liked, felt much less emotionally-freighted. That I could do.
Anyway. In no particular order, here are 20 things I like and think are The Best.
The best tonic water: Good old Schweppes. (The tyrannical dominance of Fever Tree must end!)
The best SPF: This Beauty Pie one, which I’ve repurchased pretty much consistently since 2018.
The best month of the year: September.
The best chocolate: It used to be Green & Black’s Milk (the mid-blue bar), but because it’s the mark of a sophisticated mind to be able to admit when you were wrong, I now think it’s this one, from Tony’s Chocolonely.
The best cocktail: A French 75.
The best piece of music to listen to when you feel hopeless.
The best book: Obviously it’s silly to even attempt to say there is a single best book. But apparently I’m in a silly kind of mood and my favourite book is the (very un-silly and utterly beautiful) After You’d Gone, by Maggie O’Farrell so I hereby declare it the best. Incidentally, a new edition is being published next month to mark the 25th anniversary of its release. I re-read it just before Christmas and it’s every bit as good as I remember. Just one warning: if you are a writer, try not to torment yourself too much with the knowledge that this was O’Farrell’s debut novel.
The best hairdryer: A Parlux (I have this one). A hairdresser recommended it to me, possibly a decade ago, and now I’m inevitably disappointed if I ever have to borrow anyone else’s hairdryer. Even if it’s GHD, or a Dyson.[i]
The best oat milk: Oatly Barista (in the silver carton).
The best handcream: This Vaseline one. It costs £2! It’s not sticky! It smells nice! You can get it in the supermarket! Truthfully, I only purchased this to begin with because I could stick it in with our Tesco delivery. Then, about a week later, I had my nails done by a woman who told me almost conspiratorially that she thought it was the best – and, given her job, she’d tried lots.
The best health/lifestyle advice: Is always the deeply unsexy stuff that no one makes any money off. Fibre. Flossing. Drinking some water that doesn’t also have coffee in it. Sleep. Going for a little walk. i.e. all the incredibly simple things that are somehow always easier not to do – and that we’re never very interested in because they’re not aspirational. (Why are we like this?)
The best thing to get someone who’s just had a baby: all things being equal, the answer is sleepsuits with zips and these microwaveable steriliser bag things, which are so much more useful than they have any right to be. HOWEVER, if other people’s new babies are difficult for you, the answer is a more complicated internal calculus of how important a relationship is this to you + what you feel you can manage right now. A voucher. A bottle of champagne. Chocolate. Something generically nice, but that doesn’t require you browsing racks or tabs of tiny, taunting baby clothing is perfectly fine. (Essentially, consider this your free pass to not torture yourself).
The best thing to get for someone who’s just had a miscarriage: Trick category, because – honestly – the answer is anything. Any acknowledgement at all will always be better than nothing. A nice card with a short note. Some flowers. Over the years, Dan and I have, for some reason, fallen into a habit of sending brownies.[ii] These ones are pretty good, as are all the baked goods from Luminary Bakery, which is a social enterprise supporting women who’ve experienced homelessness, domestic abuse, violence, or sexual exploitation.
The best towels: These, from Dunelm. I’d assumed towels from posh places – e.g. John Lewis – would be better. They’re not.
The best thing I read last month: So Thrilled For You, by Holly Bourne. It’s not subtle, but there’s a thrilling off-the-leash energy to the writing, which I found completely compulsive. (Also, who hasn’t secretly wanted to burn down a baby shower in their time…?)
The best coffee: Monmouth Coffee. (Though we keep it as ‘weekend’ coffee, because it is £££).
The best kitchen gadget: Now, I am a kitchen gadget sceptic. A cynic, you could say. I don’t really understand why you would buy an extra thing when you could just use a knife, a spoon, and a bit of imagination. I don’t own – and am deeply opposed to owning – an air fryer. One of the long-standing grievances in my marriage is that I made my husband get rid of his pineapple slicer (which he had, to my knowledge, never used). However, this lemon/lime squeezer is one of my very best things. (I contain multitudes, etc etc.)
The best housekeeping item you didn’t know you needed: this rubber pet hair/lint removal brush. Life-changing.
The best gloves: M&S Collection leather gloves.
The best thing about February: £1 supermarket daffodils.
OK, now over to you… tell me about the things you think are categorically The Best….
P.S. Apart from the book links, none of these are affiliate links. Just things I like.
[i] This being said, I did recently try my sister’s Shark Multi-styler thing and I am v tempted……Maybe when the Parlux finally packs in? (Which will be never, as all signs point to it being indestructible).
[ii] I think because that’s what my cousin once sent me, and I remember feeling it was the perfect gift, in the circumstances.
A vote also for the brownies (and anything) for someone who has had a miscarriage (or failed ivf cycle, for that matter). Someone got us that and I remember feeling so grateful. I’m also with you on the lemon squeezer!! Seriously game changing in the kitchen department. No more lemon in cuts on my hands, hurrah 🙌
I love this list!
Another vote here for the brownies or any ‘I’m thinking of you’ gift after a miscarriage.
Great call on the recognition of grief for a failed fertility treatment cycle Louise!
Also, I’m about to go google Parlux hairdryers right now as desperately need to upgrade my cheap department store one!