
July Peels (2026)
sticky and green, honestly humid, smelly but in search of lost time and poetry and pals. and a new short story called The Whistleblower.
storytelling in the kitchen. curious essays are dispatched every other Thursday; Peels, a writer's almanac, comes out on the first Monday of each month
Live Last read · last published · next check

sticky and green, honestly humid, smelly but in search of lost time and poetry and pals. and a new short story called The Whistleblower.

pocket books, moss and trees; salt, wheat, wet; playwrights, c’est absurde!

cooking the same dish on repeat is a remedy against automatisation; this is about imagination

no-knead dough, but i dream of ratatouille; radical DIYs; herby, hot, sour and green; slugs and books

words after Alda Merini’s diaries; a return to Gertrude Stein for a pat on the shoulder; kitchen cupboard ingredients after Marguerite Duras’ practice

mending the sourdough starter and the garden; zine making, reading plenty; sour snacks, lasagne, yolky delights for a savoury kitchen

on Annie Proulx’s knotty threads and Jean Cocteau’s magical realism; one for ambivalence, and why i don’t live by the sea

a kitchen filled with poetry books; spring skies, birdwatching; little cooking but drafting; back from a writing fellowship

moonscapes, mountains; pages, tagine recipes; sun-kissed and writing and writing

Scotland, be my terroir, and one excellent veggie haggis ragù for my pappardelle; reflections on home after two years in Scotland; a play, of sorts