Some things I have enjoyed recently

From sexy salad spinners (really) to jeans by the kilo.

I’ve had a very scattered few weeks, encompassing trips to Paris and Italy (this makes me sound far more jet-setty than my normal life, in which I’m mostly sitting at a desk in sweatpants). But just as travel can shake you out of a mindset, and force you to reexamine your life, so it makes you buy, eat and read new things.

The first thing I want to recommend is The Kilo Shop in Paris. I went there with my youngest, who is shortly off to uni, and whose passion is vintage clothes. I loved them too when I was their age, but in 30 degree heat, rifling through Le Marais’ finest jumble (because there is not much difference between some of these shops and the jumble sales of my youth) I started to find the rails of rammed, random, sometimes stale-smelling clothes overwhelming. Until we got to The Kilo Store.

This, set behind the department store BHV in Le Marais, is unusual in Paris’s vintage stores in that it does categorise its clothes. Mostly because you pay according to weight. I picked a basket of denim things: a long-sleeved denim dress, a pair of cut-off shorts, and a skirt. I didn’t try any of it on, figuring that if they didn’t fit I’d bring them back or donate them (also it was too hot for changing - ugh). I took my basket to be weighed, and my three items came to just under 30 euros. Reader, I have worn that dress solidly since. I think it’s my favourite thing I’ve bought this year. The shorts fit perfectly and I just put an extra stitch in each hem because they were clearly jeans that have been hastily adapted. In my (middle aged) opinion, a lot of Paris’ vintage stores work best if you have endless time to search for gold among the dross. But I would visit the Kilo Shop again. (Certainly more than the American shoe shop we went into which wanted 800 euros for a very ordinary pair of suede loafers. *cue my Gallic ‘are you kidding me’ face*)

My second recommendation may be a little late for this summer, but honestly, snap this up ready for your next sunny break. It’s a little zapper by Beurer that you put on a mosquito bite as soon as you get it (often, if you’re a mossie-magnet like me). A tiny hot plate warms the bite and by some alchemy kills the itching - immediately. I took mine to dinner in Italy in my handbag. Also somehow feels better than slathering yourself with DDT? You certainly smell nicer…

Okay, so the words “sexy” are not ones I ever expected to attach to a salad spinner, but it’s the one word that pops into my head whenever I use my next recommendation, The Rösle. I’ve always found salad spinners one of the most annoying kinds of kitchen equipment. They crack easily, are tricky to clean, and somehow the spinny thing is always either catching or not whizzing around fast enough. My last one had cracked in two places but after an unfortunate incident where I nearly served a guest a large slug with her salad sandwich I was forced to shop - slightly grumpily - for a new one. It felt a bit like buying car tyres or insurance - one of those purchases in which there is zero actual pleasure.

The Rösle was well reviewed in numerous online retailers. But it was about three times as much as the cheapest. I bought it with my toes curling, wondering if this was daft. But OH MY. I never thought I would enjoy spinning salad so much; the weight of it, the ultra smooth spinning mechanism, the way the leaves are bone dry when they emerge. I HAVE A SEXY SALAD SPINNER. I told my partner it was actually sexy and he looked at me like I had perhaps had too much sun. And then he made a salad and stopped in his tracks. “You’re right,” he said, in wonder. “It is a sexy salad spinner.” It’s salad until December in my house.

I have to include a book, and Sipsworth by Simon Van Booy I read in a day; it’s a sweet, dry, melancholic but hopeful little novel about an elderly woman and a mouse and to say any more will make it sounds like Beatrix Potter rather than what it is, which is a gorgeously odd tale about finding yourself again, unexpectedly. If you want a little piece of joy in your reading life, buy it.

I won’t wang on about Italy too much, because it’s nauseating and I’ll just come across all Eat Pray Love, but I would recommend a trip to Pompeii if you ever get the chance - it can be done in half a day. It’s not the tortured lava bodies and clay pots I had remembered from childhood textbooks but a vast city of beautiful mosaics and funny graffiti and engineering and murals, and you can see the archeological dig continuing. Some images on my instagram (jojomoyesofficial) if you’re interested, including a video of our ice cream boat, which delivered Cornettos in a fishing net.

But I also had my first taste of fresh mozzarella, which has basically ruined me for supermarket stuff forever. My host looked at me in horror when I said we stored ours in the fridge; apparently it should simply be stored in a bowl in its own liquid, and will last a couple of days that way. Although the one pictured, attacked by greedy guests, barely lasted half an hour.

Apparently there is a mozzarella restaurant, Obica, in London that comes close to the quality. I may have to visit. Ciao!

Television recs: the joyful return of Colin From Accounts, the ever-excellent Slow Horses and new kid on the block Kaos (Netflix) starring the glacially brilliant Janet McTeer. Good TV is one of the best things about the end of summer.

(PS - paid subscribers, do let me know if there are any particular writing topics you want me to cover. I think someone mentioned imposter syndrome, but I’m happy to hear suggestions)