Savour - mk
This is savour: notes on the delicious things in life, delivered every Wednesday. Thank you for being a free member! If you enjoy getting these emails or find yourself telling your pals about them, you may want to consider upgrading your subscription. For £3.50 a month, you’ll receive savourites, my Friday dispatch of notes from the week, along with recommendations of things to read, eat and generally indulge in, and support my work more meaningfully. I wrote this when the year was new, on a day that felt similar to day: bright and blustery. I haven’t been back to Milton Keynes since, although I feel I’ve spent a lot of this year travelling around the country. All these different hometowns. If you grew up in a village, the notion of a home town can be amorphous. I spent 15 years – from living memory to leaving home – living in a community of around 200 houses, of which the first we occupied was among the newest, and the second among the oldest. There was a shop, two pubs, a church, a school, and ribbons of history formed mostly in the mouths of the handful of older people who were born there, when there were more of these things. Our village was a short drive from one small town, a longer drive from a larger town, and a longer drive still from the city-not-city of Milton Keynes. My parents left the village about a decade ago now, and moved to another one nearby before heading to Kent – new ground. There is no reason to return: the clutch of adults who helped raise me have dissipated, their children grown up. We buried no loved ones there, our childhood homes have been filled with others’ childhoods. But I have been back to Milton Keynes; twice over the past year. There is a gallery there that puts on intriguing exhibitions and I’ve travelled out – always with people who have never been there before – from Euston, reversing the journey I used to take as a teenager, for gigs and shopping, small paper train timetable tucked in my purse. We didn’t live in Milton Keynes but we had “MK” in our postcode. I learned young and fast that this was less than ideal. Milton Keynes has earned an underwhelming reputation: for roundabouts, for concrete cows, for being nothing more than a shopping centre. It is difficult to argue with these things. As teenagers we spent our Saturdays roaming around the shops, the cinema, the bus stop. A faded version of what we’d seen glossier kids do in American malls on screen. By 16, I’d hardened to it, rankled by the frictionless lack of “culture”. I scoffed at Milton Keynes, escaped it, avoided explaining that I was from there and only returned to leave it again for 13 years. In the last of those years I would read about Milton Keynes. It has the kind of story I’d like to probe into – I’ve tried to, a few times. One of big hopes and daft cock-ups that resulted in the grander plans (arts initiatives, a monorail) getting caught up in the admin. Nevertheless, it is true that its grid system is aligned with the movements of the sun on Summer Solstice: the address of my student bank, scrawled on the forms of my early twenties, is Midsummer Boulevard, because that dual carriageway would frame the longest day’s sunrise. It is true that I grew up immune to the choking gyrational systems and ring roads more familiar to British town planning; that cycle paths into the city were a norm; that the passage into the city – from and to anywhere - was flanked by wide strips of green landscaping. This was someone’s utopia. To go back and leave the station on foot, to walk up Midsummer Boulevard, is something I’ve only ever done as an adult; we always drove before. It’s a straight line between the station and the gallery, at the tail end of the shopping centre, and 30-minute mental rolodex of memories. A red-and-white-striped shirt; best friends; a blue handbag; a small, piercing humiliation; a Sony Ericsson pay-as-you-go handset with room for 10 precious text messages. I take immediate notice of what has cropped up (a Brewdog pub, some newbuild flats), what has vanished (the Waitrose car-park, a Riad-like structure swagged, inside, with hanging plants), what is more present for its absence (the Gap sign, now a grey hole; the infamous ancient oak). The “old bit” of the shopping centre - built in 1979 - has aged well for a chic and airy temple to consumerism. The palm and banana trees that filled the ceilings and hosted garden birds during my childhood were re-planted a few years back . We go to the gallery, look the art. The show – a Laura Knight retrospective – is worth the journey. In a corridor, there is a piece based on the OS Map for the local area: a swirl of city in the midst of rural Buckinghamshire and I’m surprised by how much I recognise it. We take our lunch into Campbell Park, sit on a bench and talk about where our families came from, buttoning up against the wind. Our view drifts north, over a small flock of sheep and a perfectly spherical pond that ripples blue on this clear, gusty day. It’s a strange sight, one that sits somewhere between the pastoral and the man-made. Somehow, it feels like the future, but it’s not one I’m going to have. books. instagram. pre-order why women grow. You’re a free subscriber to savour. If you enjoy my work, you can support it by becoming a paid subscriber. You’ll receive subscriber-only savourites - weekly dispatches of good morsels I’ve encountered - as well as access to exclusive events, the savour community and the newsletter archive. |
Key phrases
Older messages
savourites #21
Sunday, October 9, 2022
cosy things | interviewing elizabeth strout | piet oudolf
You Might Also Like
"The Jesus Fridge" by Jeffrey McDaniel
Friday, March 29, 2024
Your fridge died last week. The light Facebook Twitter Instagram Support Poem-a-Day March 29, 2024 The Jesus Fridge Jeffrey McDaniel Your fridge died last week. The light still came on when you opened
Genres are a funny little concept, aren't they?
Friday, March 29, 2024
Skimm'd with the best deals of the week — Check out what we Skimm'd for you today Subscribe Read in browser March 29, 2024 Daily Skimm Skimm'd with the best deals of the week Update
Cindy Crawford’s Airport Pants Are The *Best* Alternative To Sweats
Friday, March 29, 2024
Iconic.
My Top 3: Regular Little Indulgences
Friday, March 29, 2024
Witty subhead ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏
Google Wants You to Use AI for Your Next Vacation 🤔
Thursday, March 28, 2024
Don't Trust These 'Reset Password' Pop-ups on Your Apple Devices. Google has released several new ways you can use AI and other tools to help plan your next vacation, including the
GOP congresswoman blames Green New Deal for bridge collapse
Thursday, March 28, 2024
The Green New Deal, for the record, does not technically exist. ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏
Your Zodiac Sign Should Prepare For Love Affairs In April
Thursday, March 28, 2024
Plus, Lili Reinhart's peach glam look, Bustle's beauty awards are here, & more.
PunchTok Rattles New York Women
Thursday, March 28, 2024
What's new today on the Cut — covering style, self, culture, and power, plus interviews, profiles, columns, and commentary from our editors. Brand Logo THURSDAY, MARCH 28 WAIT WHAT IS HAPPENING ON
The worst mug in your kitchen has an important purpose
Thursday, March 28, 2024
This is the hottest new restaurant trend in LA
Ye Olde Sign Shoppe: Gran Canaria’s Tomás Prieto Gálvez
Thursday, March 28, 2024
Adventures in life, family, and sign painting with Tomás Prieto Gálvez in the Canary Islands. BLAG Magazine: Adventures in Sign Painting Craft, Community & Culture BLAG Magazine: Adventures in Sign