Join us this Wednesday
EARLY ON in his new book about Edwardian Britain, Alwyn Turner sums up his mission as a popular historian. The book, he writes, “might sometimes seem trivial: the administrators of Empire feature less than the headliners at the Empire, Leicester Square, and the politicians that appear are those who were embraced by the public.”
“Trivial,” he goes on, “but not insignificant, for these were the stories the country told itself at a time when it was re-evaluating what Britain meant…”
I love this bottom-up approach to history, and devoured Turner’s previous social histories of the Seventies, Eighties, Nineties and Noughties. So I’m really looking forward to welcoming Alwyn to Backstory this Wednesday evening to chew over this peculiar, brief chapter in the life of the nation, between the death of a long-reigning matriarchal monarch and the ever-louder drumbeat of impending war. (Remind you of anything?)
Do join us at 7.30pm this Wednesday.
Coming up
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Wednesday 28th February, 7.30pm
Picked by The Times as one of its environment books of the year, journalist Louise Gray tracks the story of our food from farm to fruit bowl, asking what impact our voracious appetites have on the planet.
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Wednesday 13th March, 7.30pm
Bone-tired, anxious and overwhelmed, the author of Wintering sought to feel more connected and at ease by exploring the restorative properties of the natural world and reawakening her sense of wonder.
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SOLD OUT: Cathy Newman — The Ladder
Tuesday 19th March, 7.30pm
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SOLD OUT: Alice Winn — In Memoriam
Wednesday 20th March, 7.30pm
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SOLD OUT: Gary Stevenson — The Trading Game
Wednesday 27th March, 7.30pm
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Coming up at the Non-Fiction Book Club: Henry Marsh (And Finally), Maria Ressa (How To Stand Up To A Dictator), Tania Branigan (Red Memory)
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Coming up at the Fiction Book Club: Tomasz Jedrowski (Swimming in the Dark)
I HAVEN’T BEEN SHORT OF MILESTONES the last couple of years. The first book I ever sold. Opening day. Our first event. Our first Christmas. Issue one of the magazine. The anniversary party.
The trouble with these obvious milestones is that there isn’t usually time on such occasions for me to take stock. Looking back on opening day, for instance, I can remember feeling pleased that the shop was busy and maybe a bit proud, but mainly extremely overwhelmed. There’s a queue of five people waiting to be served! We’re running out of books! I really ought to send Amy and Rory to have lunch at some point! And how the hell do you make a cortado?
So I hope you’ll indulge me in sharing a painfully middle-class milestone I’ve just passed, which is both trivial and meaningful, and which somehow prompted more reflection than most. Reader, I’ve permitted myself a fluffy towel.
First let it be said that I can’t remember seeing sauna sessions or reformer classes anywhere on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Whatever Instagram poets may say about the primacy of self-care, wanky gym membership is of course inessential, a nice-to-have.
So when I quit my job almost exactly two years ago, my Virgin Active card was tossed on the bonfire of memberships, along with theatre tickets, food from posh supermarkets and other fripperies. I’ve survived just fine without these things, as most people do most of the time.
And yet, when I re-joined that gym yesterday, I was taken aback by a sudden, slightly weird, feeling of pride. As I picked up that fluffy towel from the pile, somehow I felt I’d earned it, in a way I never quite have before.
It’s hardly that I’ve become a titan, the Branson of Balham High Road. But, in the two years since I last swam in that pool, I’ve built a modestly successful business. And I am now confident enough in its future that I can treat myself to the occasional indulgence, like a gym that gives you towels.
Sometimes it’s the little things that give you pause. As Alwyn Turner might say (see above), trivial — but not insignificant.
See you in the slow lane,
Tom