The Icebreaker

It’s no secret that my 2023 has been less a road through my life and more like a cross-cross of farm tracks and half-built bypasses. I’ve been stuck in other people’s driveways more times than I’d have liked. As the year rolls out to its inevitable festive end, one of my favourite times, I’m actually in a much better place than I expected to be.

Living to work was my whole method of survival until this year. I always described myself as an icebreaker—an unstoppable force, always moving forwards facelessly and monotonously. The only thing I focused on was what was in my way at that moment, and how to overcome that obstacle. The thing about living this way, is that it stops you from creating memories, or enjoying having a project to feel satisfied with when it comes to an end. Always moving. Always.

Two months since the closure of my bar, I find myself forgetting that it actually existed. It turns out, apparently, that this icebreaker life I was living was actually a response to long-term stress—a stress I’ve lived with and coped with and even, surprisingly, thrived off, like a little deep-sea bug that turns toxic thermal water into a cosy home. During the past two years I was working essentially three jobs, seven days a week, and when two of these three jobs ended at the same time in September, I lost control over my sense of self. What am I, if I’m not busy?

Having time to consider who you are instead of what you do is transformative. I’m still in the early stages of it yet, but it’s exciting. I’ve gotten off the boat. I’m walking on the ice. I’m seeing what’s around me as well as what’s ahead.

Other Stuff

• Portishead’s lifechanging Live at Roseland NYC performance turned 25 last week. They released a remaster of the whole performance.

• In Pellicle this week, Robbie Armstrong wrote about The Laurieston, and it is a belter

• Photographer Dmitry Kokh documents polar bears making a home in an abandoned polar weather station on the isolated island of Kolyuchin

• A stained glass rose window made from lettuce, wood and paper by artist Selva Aparicio

My Stuff

I am launching a new project via this newsletter on Tuesday 14 November. Called PROCESS, it will be a ten-part series of essays on processed food, starting with a piece all about my favourite childhood sandwich filler—Spam.

This series will only be available to paid subscribers to The Gulp. You can amend your subscription by heading to your homepage, I have tried to find an easier way to explain how but I’m sorry, there isn’t one. Here are Substack’s official instructions. Hopefully you manage to find it!

I suggest you choose the ongoing subscription rather than the annual one, so you can pause the payments once the series is finished if you like.

To get you started, here is a piece on cheese singles which I wrote a year ago.

I’m excited about starting a project that’s just for me, for my own platform, and for you. I hope you’re looking forward to reading it.