For your stray attention this weekend
Thoughts on the too-muchness of the world
Briefly: June day retreats in Kent, UK | Morgan Harper Nichols on How We Live Now | Live appearances at the Kite Festival and Seven Fables, Exmoor | Hear me on For The Love with Jen Hatmaker | Listen out for my interview with NPR’s Rachel Martin on All Things Considered today!
This week, I’ve been dreaming of beach huts. This is nothing new; I can’t remember a time when I didn’t dream of owning one. But Whitstable beach huts are prime real estate. When I moved here 17 years ago, they were already hovering around the £40k mark, which was exactly what I paid for my first house. Last week, my dream one came onto the market for £65k. For a shed on legs. With no water, gas or electricity. And you’re not even allowed to sleep in it.
The problem is (I mean the problem with me, specifically), if I had £65k in my bank account, I’d have handed it over already. Not because it’s a reasonable amount of money for a disintegrating shack with a sea-view, but because you can’t put a price on a fantasy.
In my imagination, I’d buy the beach hut and then crunch over the shingle to write in it each morning. I would sit there, gazing out at the rising tide, and finally feel the mental spaciousness that I long for. Nobody would be able to get me in my beach hut. Everything would be okay.