What I am listening to: The Lumineers’ 2012 debut album, The Lumineers…
What I am playing: Fikret Amirov’s Symphony for String Orchestra, ‘To the Memory of Nisami’ (1947)
What I am reading: Quiet by Susan Cain
A few months ago I noticed an ad for a book on the tube called Quiet: ‘The power of introverts in a world that can’t stop talking’. I was stunned: the book I wanted to write had been written! An Amazon delivery later and I can confirm, without exaggeration, that my existence has been validated. I had been sure I wasn’t the only introvert in the world who felt the injustice of our culture seeing ‘our kind’ as inferiors striving to join the extroverted ‘bright’ side. I was convinced that introversion didn’t have to be a dirty word associated with that guy who reads railway magazines at a party (which he can do, if he wants), but my feelings were not reassurance enough. Even writing this I feel the need to clarify that I’m not an extreme introvert because I don’t want to be painted in a dull light; even I can’t fully shake this prejudice. But I know I’m a classic introvert and I’m becoming proud of this. It is, in fact, just as ok to get excited about a solitary train journey than to be desperate to win The Apprentice; some might say preferable…
To get to my point, I’m similarly beginning to accept that it’s ok to be a natural night owl rather than a painfully chirpy early bird. Society has added to this image of the extroverted super being the power of get-up-and-go when the cockerel crows. On the flip side, those awake in the small hours are social outcasts rebelling against a widely imposed schedule, no doubt reinforced by the outspoken morning people of each generation. Isn’t it time to diversify away from these caveman tendencies? In a world where 9 to 5 isn’t the only lifestyle choice (thank Dolly Parton), we need those types whose brain function doesn’t rise with the sun. And actually, in my world of musical work, I should count myself lucky that I feel most productive ’round midnight. Perhaps I wasn’t a freak a decade ago for writing my English coursework in a flurry of focus at 1:30 in the morning. And perhaps there isn’t something wildly wrong with me for writing this amongst a sleeping orchestra on an overnight flight to Azerbaijan, at GMT 1:30am.
So, women can vote, gay couples can marry… I have a dream that one day I can roll into my kitchen at midday, eyes blinking like a mole, and no spritely human will utter a condescending “well you’re up late”. Don’t get me wrong, on those occasional days when I feed my surprising new running habit by getting up early for an organised race I feel on top of the world, but left to my own devices I’m the last on the treadmill before my gym closes for the night, and I feel all the more me for it. So watch out world, the sequel is yet to be written: Sleepy: ‘The power of night owls in a world that can’t stop waking’.
Where I am drinking cappuccino: Coffee #1, 9 Wood Street, Cardiff, Wales
Cappuccino 3 | Gluten-free friendliness 4 | Service 3 | Environment 4 | Location 4 | Total: 18/25
Call me a traitor reviewing ‘Best UK Coffee Chain’, but this location was one of two in Wales to rank in The Independent’s 50 best independent UK coffee shops. Having visited incarnations across the great Wild West in Wells, Monmouth and now the original next to Cardiff Central station, I can report that the waiting room vibe is avoided, with happily haphazard seating and (faux) chalk-written menus. The coffee is neither nothing to write to the east nor complain about, but a gluten-free treat box (choice!) is cause for coeliac celebration. Embrace this chain, as long as they pay tax.
Coffeelosophie 