So, it’s a new year, and, let’s be honest, it’s been quite the first week in terms of news. But here we are, we made it through 2020 and it is a new year. While possibilities may feel a little lean as I write this on January 8 with the UK in another lockdown, my default mode tends to be focussed on the many things to be grateful for. I realise that’s easy to write and harder to live, but our worlds will open again, even if we have more months to wait to see the impact of the vaccine rollout. It feels hard to wrap your head round the scale of this process at the moment, right? So I’m personally taking 2021 a week at a time and trying not to think too far ahead, and I wanted to start this new year with a simple post: a walk down the coast – at North Berwick – in some lovely light, which perhaps looks like nothing much, but, in these locked down days, it feels like a lot.
Since moving two-and-a-half years ago, whenever winter arrives I’m reminded of something that I’d like to change about this house: the lighting. Looking around the house on these gloomy winter days, particularly in the sitting room where I work, and which only gains daylight from the neighbouring room, I always wish that we had more integrated lighting. As an aside, but also linked to this, I also wish we had more plug points, especially with two of us now working from home, as the number of sockets you find in an old house just doesn’t cut it for how much tech we need to plug in and use, far less the additional lighting required for long hours at a desk. If we were redoing this house from scratch, I’d start with the lighting and work from there, focussing on the darker areas that would really benefit from well considered lighting, including our work spaces.
While thinking about this, I happened across these modular, battery-powered Humble One lights, which are perfect for the tables, shelves, and nooks in your home where you’re unable to plug in. Right now, I’d sit one of these on the shelf above my desk, where a portable light would illuminate the whole corner of the room.
I have a list of blog posts that I’ve been meaning to share, but sometimes you spot something randomly, and it seems to fit the mood of whatever you’ve been thinking about, right? The Mountain Refuge caught my eye when scrolling on Dezeen last week (you can see Dezeen’s feature here) for a few reasons. Like most people, we haven’t had a chance to escape this year, and ‘escape’ for us usually means going some place quiet, away from people, and spending a week or so just connected with nature. And this year, my desire for a more remote lifestyle has really kicked in. (I’m guessing that I’m not alone in this.) As we’ve grown more accustomed to being away from people, I’ve realised that this is how I’d like to live. Find me some place remote, by the sea, with a great broadband connection (the tricky bit), and I’ll be there. You can dream, right?
I can”t believe that it’s been over a month since I last wrote here. I began my last post with, ‘There’s no denying the shift in the seasons at the moment…’ and, a month on, the season has well and truly moved into autumn, while nudging us ever closer towards winter. The colder days and dark evenings are firmly upon us, and while I dread the latter, I love these cooler days. I love wrapping up and going for bracing walks. And as we’ve now shifted into different routines – the routines that come with less daylight hours – I’m ready to get back to writing more again.
And this apartment felt like a good way to return to this space. It’s a little different, and with a few highlights that caught my eye.
There’s no denying the shift in the seasons at the moment. Last week, you could feel the evenings slip away as it seemed to be getting darker day by day. To be honest, I’m ready for autumn; I’m ready for cool weather and bracing beach walks, but I’m never ready to lose evening light. And this year, we’ve appreciated our evenings even more. Lockdown shifted perspective, right? We’ve appreciated just being outdoors, whether keeping it local with walks at the ash lagoons or along the sea front, or those nights of just getting in the car and escaping down the coast.