The year I wrote every morning before the sun came up
Five hundred days of getting up at half five. What it actually did to the work, to my sleep, and to the way I think about discipline — including the parts nobody puts in the productivity posts.
Every piece, archived
Everything published here, newest first.
All articles
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I spent a year chasing the perfect cup and found something better
Eighteen months, four grinders and one conclusion I did not expect.
Reading fifty-two books taught me to abandon more of them
One a week for a year. The real lesson was permission to stop at page thirty.
Three weeks on the coast road with no itinerary
Twelve hundred miles, no bookings, and the two days that made the whole trip.
Learning to cook without recipes, badly at first
Six months of tasting as I went instead of measuring. A lot of salt, several disasters, and eventually dinner.
Shooting a roll a week on a camera older than me
Thirty-six frames and no delete button changes how you look at a street.
Everything I killed before anything grew
A small flat, bad light, and eleven dead plants. The twelfth is thriving and I finally know why.
Cooking for other people, badly but often
Nobody remembers the food. They remember that you asked them round.
I packed half as much and enjoyed it twice as much
One bag, nine days, and the quiet relief of having nothing to look after.