Lookaftering #8 – small pleasures of summer edition

Dear readers,

It’s the time of the fortnight when I usually send out my Lookaftering newsletter, but today’s edition is a little different. One, it’s available to all subscribers (hello!) and two, it’s a treasure trove of small pleasures I’ve kept note of during the last few weeks. I’d quite like to make this a seasonal thing, offering little glimpses into life in Denmark throughout the year. (A quick note that this is almost certainly partly inspired by Sandy at Small Pleasures, also Nigel Slater, Ross Gay, and countless other admirers of small things.)

Life this week is, well, hot. Scandinavia is usually a haven from the worst of Europe’s heat, but yesterday reached 34°C, which is surely too much for Denmark, and erupted into thunder last night. It’s also graduation time, which means high school students wear custom-made hats that cost $350 each (!!), rent open-backed trucks for their class, and make an enormous amount of druken noise driving around for a few days. (One part of this I love, though: the truck stops at each student’s house for a 10-15 minute visit, where the parents serve a light meal and drinks. This feels so Danish to me.)

While searching for stillness, I keep thinking about this beautiful quote from The Waves, Virginia Woolf’s experimental masterpiece and one of my favourite books, which, as with James Joyce, you’re best served by letting it wash over you without too much thought, otherwise you’ll get a headache:

“How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.”

The Waves is a book made up of observations; one after another and rolling like waves. Without claiming any of Virginia Woolf’s literary talent, read on for a few of my own observed joys that have delivered not insignificant moments of happiness on recent balmy days. I say small pleasures, but many of them are really quite substantial, and together – especially when paired with good company, enough time for restful solitude, and a few big deep breaths – they amount to a large amount of joy.

Masses of roses in the park, busy with bees. Goldfinches visiting our balcony. Sea buckthorn kombucha. Cornflowers taking over one of our balcony planter boxes. The literary mural of Tove Ditlevsen, author of the Copenhagen Trilogy, I stumbled upon while walking on a hidden route to the library. Sunrise at 4am and still light at 10pm.

Switching to iced coffee brewed with huge square ice cubes. On other days, cold brew tea following instructions from my local, beautiful, and ever so tranquil Sing Tehus (you can use any carafe and just sieve after). Trying a kardemommesnegl, or cardamom twist, from Original Coffee: a crispy pastry dusted in sugar with a caramelised base and soft middle. On another day, a hot weather dinner treat from Pico with a pizza trio plus salad with cataloupe, sugar snaps, rhubarb, and radish. At home, this NYT lemon potato salad with mint or – to stay with potatoes – Anna Jones’ new potato tortilla with halloumi and tomato kasundi.

Escaping the heat under the canopy of an oak tree (and admiring baby’s little feet as she naps). Stumbling upon a beautiful gifted notebook I forgot I had at the back of a drawer. Pretty sticky notes designed for Cozyca by Midori Asano. Noticing the little yellow flowers on our balcony turn to tomatoes, helped along by our lovely local bees. (A local social enterprise, Bybi, founded by English anthropologist Oliver Maxwell, works with local businesses across Copenhagen to “rent” beehives, usually placing them on their rooftops, and trains up vulnerable people – refugees, the unemployed, retired people – to tend the sites.)

Books! Lizzy Stewart’s majestic new graphic novel, The Wreck – a stunning tale of two couples sharing a home in the English countryside, all dreamy until it’s not – especially the double-page spread artwork and blend of text and panels. A friend bought two copies, one for each of us, and I’ve got some thoughts on parts one and two, plus a beautiful bookmark, ready to drop in her mailbox.

Also, The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare, kindly recommended by reader Bailey, which features these gorgeous words by Karen Cushman in the foreword, sharing her daughter’s memory of the book: “For me that book is all about the image of that little cottage, filled with herbs and good smells and a cat and loved ones.” Also recommended by Bailey with beautiful words: Becky Chambers’ hopeful sci-fi A Closed and Common Orbit for “a deeply comforting exploration of belonging and healing” and Sentient: What Animals Reveal About Our Senses to “stir curiosity and connection in the soul.”

And finally, the pleasure of Ann Patchett’s Whistler – sheer delight recently arrived on bookshelves, lightly criticised by The Guardian for perhaps being too sweet (“Whistler is top-shelf comfort food, the literary equivalent of pricey ice-cream”) but I loved it. Burrow into the comfort of these words:

“Home. Oh, home would be better than anything. I hadn’t thought of that. There was still plenty of light. We could sit in the backyard and look at the peonies having their moment, take off our shoes and sink our feet into grass.”

A quick note! Over the last few months, I’ve loved sending all new annual subscribers a pretty postcard sent from me in Denmark. From July, I’m planning to switch things up a little with a monthly snail mail gift for one reader instead :)

Each month, I’ll randomly pick one paid subscriber to receive a happy piece of post from me. It’ll be under 100g, fit into a small-ish envelope, and may include bookmarks, stickers, washi tape samples, paper goods, little art, postcards, and notecards (all of which should be lovely!) And a hand-written note with book recommendations, of course.

This will allow me to spend a bit more time and attention on these envelopes, while leaving energy – and some budget for expensive stamps – for other penpals which have been wonderfully accumulating. (You’re still always very welcome to write to me!)

I’ll reach out to the winner by direct message and email each month, with the first next weekend (July 4-5) 💙

Happy Sunday!

Love,

Lucy