Hey,

I’m writing this email on Monday 22nd, so the contents may sit very differently with me by the time they reach you. Writing really is an act of release. I’m documenting my thoughts in this moment, but how they feel—to me and you—by the time they reach your inbox is entirely out of my control.

We left France on Sunday morning—one ant in a colony of cars at Cherbourg, awaiting a delayed ferry. After we sped across the channel to Poole, I was drowsy on anti-sickness tablets and majorly grateful that I could hand the wheel to Bex for the four-hour drive towards the bright lights of Margate.

We made it. And I’m not sure I like it.

The big problem is our Airbnb. It’s cramped, loads of stuff doesn’t seem to work or is missing, and there are some bigger problems around cleanliness. Nothing was going to compare to Château, but I had higher hopes than picking strangers’ hair out of the bathroom sink.

With our dodgy flat setting the tone, the colours bled across the other lines of my experience. The smell of dry seaweed blowing up from the beach became a sour tang. The lunch we bought became a millstone of guilt and displeasure. Sounds became too loud, my senses sheered, everything seemed to go from smooth and pleasant to sharp and unsettled.

So now we’re working out what to do. We’ve got some commitments over the next couple of weeks that mean we need to stay in the area. We might cut the Airbnb short or it might balance out. The sour tang and sharp spikes might soften into something more gentle.

Whatever we decide, I feel good that we're deciding. We've identified the problem and we're working past the painful parts to find a reasonable and balanced outcome. I feel in control even though things are hectic. I've not always been able to do that.

If nothing else, I’m grateful for this moment as a stress test of the stuff I’ve been working on in myself. I'll keep taking the rough with the smooth and let you know how it all ends up.

Slow down guide

Need a little help moving slower?

Ease your way out of Friday afternoon with this newsletter, a nice cup of something, and a little background music. Steal my setup if you aren't sure where to start.

After I press send, I’ll brew some of Old Spike’s Venkids Valley—their first Indian import and what promises to be a special cup. I’ve not tried it at the time of writing, but I’m going to order some to kickstart my home brewing setup now I'm back in the UK.

Old Spike is a beautiful example of how businesses can create genuine social impact. 65% of their profits go towards funding and growing their programme to reduce homelessness in the UK through training and employment within speciality coffee.

Something nice to think about as you’re letting your grounds bloom.

If you’re after some music to accompany your brew, it’s only right—given the title of this edition—that I present Pinegrove’s Problems for your consideration.

Take it easy,