1
Last weekend we went to stay with friends of decades’ standing in deepest Wiltshire, a bucolic part of England that’s as beautiful as the Cotswolds but without the coach tours. They live in a hamlet where the houses are dotted among a landscape of fields and hedges, and where the residents are a mix of here-for-generations families and more recent arrivals seeking a different way of life (yet with access to ample supplies of good food and culture).
From their house, we walked up a wooded escarpment before traversing along a muddy path that edges the stony ploughed fields. And then, after some 20 minutes, we were in the yard of Strang Manor Farm, where part of an ancient outbuilding has been turned into The Stalls Café, which is doing a thriving weekend trade. Over the arc of the weekend, we had dinner at Da Costa, the new Italian restaurant at the Hauser & Wirth Gallery in Bruton, wandered around shops (handmade soaps and nice antiques, anyone?) in the picturesque town of Shaftesbury and generally had a very pleasant time.
The beauty of the countryside can distract you from all sorts of ills (farming is tough, there’s often a shortage of services, there are plenty of folks just getting by) but you also sense an England where entrepreneurs, cultural folk and chefs are pressing ahead without worrying about what’s happening in London. And I did find myself lingering at the windows of various estate agents.
2
I got a text from Tyler on my Wiltshire Saturday, asking whether I might be available for a last-minute adventure, a long-haul one. I accepted the challenge and so today’s column is being written at a desk in Monocle’s Tokyo bureau. I was last here in 2018 – how did that happen? My once-regular trips were halted by the pandemic and then flight paths took me all over the world but not to Japan. Why didn’t I come back here sooner?
I have written before about the benefits of just being elsewhere, of changing places to see the world anew, of finding inspiration by heading over the horizon. And Tokyo delivers. Japan feels easy to navigate but everything is just different, more considered, more deliberate, more mannered and courteous. In the first 24 hours we met the teams behind ambitious urbanism and hospitality brands, and the owners of numerous fashion and design brands; we hosted drinks at the office and had a team dinner (and a team nightcap). I also went to see the Azabudai Hills project by Thomas Heatherwick, visited a shop that sells Lovots (robots that inspire love), where I watched a woman cradle one as though it was a newborn child, and walked past Pignic, a café that has pet micro pigs as its USP. It has been enjoyably overwhelming.
But the other reason why it’s good to be back is personal bonds: people who have been constants in my life. When we started Monocle in 2007, Fiona Wilson was already signed up as Monocle’s Tokyo bureau chief (she had worked with Tyler in his Wallpaper days) and so I have known her for almost 18 years (and Tyler since my twenties). Fiona and I got to see each other during The Monocle Quality of Life Conference a few weeks ago in Istanbul but there’s nothing like being on someone else’s patch. On Friday evening the two of us went for a walk around Tomigaya, the neighbourhood that’s home to our office. Fiona pointed out Issey Miyake’s studios, found us the perfect vantage point to view the shaggy vegetation-covered balconies of the Trunk hotel, took me to ceramics shops and explained how this village in a city works, and what makes people want to live here. Anyway, it was good to be in her shadow and get a different perspective.
3
On Thursday night, on the way back to the hotel, some 36 hours since I had last slept, I might have nodded off in the taxi. I was no doubt having very pleasant dreams about my new Lovot-run farm or why the egg sandwiches from Camelback are so delicious, or perhaps I was just dreaming about my bed. Anyway, Tyler insists that I was snoring like a Pignic piglet. Even if I was, it’s been a good week.