Silence after speaking

After a few noisy weeks of people and parties, the deep, deep peace of a silent Sunday, plus a light and delicious recipe for fish en papillote with courgettes

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow…

William Butler Yates

The last few weeks have been very peopled. We’ve had visitors, a raucous and delightful weekend away at the St John Fête du vin, a friend’s big birthday party, dinners and lunches, adventures. At home, the place where I knit myself back together, easy mornings of reading in the bath, coffee on the terrace, and gentle plodding around the garden in my nightie are disrupted by the early arrival of builders, plumbers and handymen.

I am that most annoying of modern self-diagnoses, the extroverted-introvert. I love a crowd, a party, to be in the centre of things, to talk and laugh all night, but after a surfeit of this I can feel myself shutting down. I cannot have one more conversation. Then, I need to sit silently on a sofa with a cup of tea, possibly a quiet cat.

And this is why today, Sunday, was more luxurious than a break in the most luxurious of spas (though I do hate spas, so this is a very poor analogy). Is there anything more heavenly than waking up with an open road ahead of you, a day with no expectations or obligations? A day of pottering about or, as my old boss Virginia would say, slummocking? I look forward to it with as much excitement as I used to look forward to a night out in Soho in the Nineties. Then, it was all about “Who might I meet?” Now, what gets my pulse racing is the thought of meeting no one at all. Possibly, not speaking at all.

A long bath in the new bathroom.

Today I slept late and then read a new book (Elizabeth Strout’s The Things We Never Say) in the new bath, untroubled by the thought of a plumber bursting through the doors at any second. I dressed in the oldest, softest T-shirt and forgiving linen trousers, scraped my damp hair into a clip, and left my face unadorned by anything more than sunscreen.

After toasted baguette and strawberry jam for breakfast, I tied in my tomatoes in the courtyard, hung old linen sheets on the line to dry in the sunshine, deadheaded roses and pelargoniums, and cleaned a chandelier I bought off Facebook Marketplace so it’s ready for the electrician to put up next week. I cut an oak leaf lettuce for lunch and dressed it in vinaigrette then loaded it onto a plate with some leftover roast chicken. I snipped a bloom from one of the lower branches of the magnolia grandiflora and put it in a vase on my desk to enjoy its lemony, peppery scent. I sat on the sofa with the cat and read some more, brushed the dogs. At 6pm, I had a solitary apéro (a Marseillanais, two parts Noilly Prat dry vermouth, one part red vermouth, over ice with a twist of orange zest) and ate steak with potatoes. Then I sat down to write this, a quiet note, to you.

What’s your favourite thing to do when you’re doing nothing?

A creamy magnolia grandiflora bloom, just opening up.

It’s Sunday, be more cat.

Poisson en papillote aux courgettes

Fish en papillotte with courgettes

After a few weeks of elaborate dinners, there is something soothing about a simple lunch of fish and vegetables, and as we gear up for the annual courgette onslaught, this is a wonderful way to use them.

SERVES 6