It all started with a can of Febreze || An interview with Monica Heisey
It all started with a can of Febreze.
For the past six months or so, most people who’ve been to my house have found themselves asking the same question:
‘Did you know there’s a [insert any number of random objects here: baking tray / tuning fork / tub of hand cream / packet of hot dog buns] on the ledge by your front door?’
The reason for this - and my smiling nod by way of response - is that I have fallen in love with an app that encourages you to give things away.
It began when I was rootling around in an overcrowded cupboard, and found a can of air freshener that I simply couldn’t account for. The metal bit around the cap was beginning to rust, so it had obviously been in there for a while. Maybe it belonged to the people who lived here before us? Who knows. But festering too long, certainly, for anything promising the freshness of a Spring Meadow.
I shrugged and went back to wrestling with the pile of towels, cleaning supplies and (let’s be honest) misc that was threatening to eat my entire arm.
‘The problem’ I grumbled to myself, ‘is that the cupboard is too full.’
[This was true.]
‘But... I definitely need every single thing in here.’
[This was not true.]
Seized by a sudden and irrepressible need for action, I identified the sole piece of low-hanging fruit, marched up the stairs, and - with uncharacteristic decisiveness - threw the Febreze into the kitchen bin.
If this was a film (and what a film!) the camera would now hover over the bin. Then, moments later, you’d see me skulk back into the shot, rustle around in the bin, and retrieve the can.
My thought process was this: Who am I to throw away a FULL can of air freshener, like some sort of medieval king??? A Febreze today, whole legs of chicken over my shoulder tomorrow!
It was at this moment that I remembered my friend telling me about a neighbourhood sharing app called Olio: it had started out as a way of sharing food that would otherwise go to waste, and you can now use it to re-home quite literally anything!
A rusty can of Febreze felt like a good test of this premise. I posted a photo and my location, and sure enough! A request within MINUTES! She’d come by that morning, but timings uncertain, so could I leave it outside? Needless to say, I was thrilled.
Fast forward about an hour. Ben and I are in the living room: Ben is standing at the window that looks out over the street. I’m cross-legged on the floor, invisible from street level.
Ben: ‘There’s a woman walking towards our flat - are you expecting anyone?’
Me: ‘[overexcited] The woman from Olio! For the Febreze!!!’
Ben: ‘ … I don’t know at all what that you mean by that. But… fine.’
As she approached, Ben waved and gave a thumbs up.
In ordinary circumstances? Absolutely nothing wrong with that. But for context, Ben had been filming something at the time that meant he had a 19th century-style moustache, and he was wearing a tank top. Does it seem ideal for a tall, be-vested, moustachio’d man to be standing at the window, apparently waiting to give thumbs ups to unknown women in the street? No sooner had my relationship with Olio begun to blossom, would it be over; flagged on the app as some sort of local undesirable?
Only one way to find out. A few hours later, tentative but emboldened by the Febreze triumph, I made my second post: one (1) unopened packet of salami.
The requests are flooding in! First come, first serve? You’ve got to.
As the mystery recipient approaches, I can’t believe my eyes: it’s the same woman!!!!
9am: Febreze. 3pm: Salami. I have no further questions for this itinerary.
Did she come back for the salami or was it for a chance encounter with a moustachioed stranger? More likely, she was just having the weird sort of day that only a can of Febreze and a packet of salami could fix. A mystery for the ages.
You’ll be glad to know that since then, my Olio use has gone from strength to strength. I mean, the things you can give away! A tangle of random cables, advertised as such? Yes! Three loose shelves? Instantly. If you post even the most shamefully abandoned plants, forlorn and withered beyond recognition, multiple green-thumbed nymphs will write to you, humbly requesting the opportunity to nurse them back to health. Earlier this week I gave away a half full packet of iron tablets… to someone else called Katya!!! Thrilling.
Some of the collections have been unexpectedly moving: The man who wanted an assortment of baby proofing bits, because his grandson was coming to stay with him for the first time. Jane, who picked up a tin of coffee, and told me she was going around her local area, gathering all the things needed for putting together a birthday tea for her mum’s 90th. The lovely Swedish woman who collected a pregnancy book and, upon receipt, just looked at me and said ‘I’m terrified! Were you?’ I told her yes, I was too, and we had a little hug in the street.
No hug from the iron-tablet-Katya, but certainly a nod of shared understanding: one wan, anaemic Katya to another.
My own frenzied clutter-purging aside, it does seem like Olio is broadly A Good Thing, on a wider scale. As of this year, Olio users have shared 25 million portions of food with their neighbours! They also have a ‘Food Waste Heroes programme’, where they train people to collect and redistribute food from catering companies and businesses like Pret A Manger and Costa, scooping up all the food that would be otherwise headed for the bin.
There’s a lot of love in my heart for the man who came to my house to pick up some shelf brackets, and told me he’d just done his big weekly cafe sweep, so would I like a sausage roll and/or a prawn mayo baguette, as a thank you?
I might’ve taken him up on the offer, if he hadn’t told me he was then headed for a food bank drop-off - that prawn mayo would’ve turned to ashes in my mouth.
My own code when it comes to Olio is that I don’t post anything that could be given to a charity shop. Almost all of my most-worn clothes have been faithful charity shop finds, and beyond that - I just like that they exist. But most charity shops have (very reasonable) limits on what they’ll accept as donations, and this is Olio’s real time to shine. For example: I doubt many charity shops would be happy to receive a lone CD case. But somebody, somewhere, thought yes! This is just what I needed: to give my loose CD a friend!
It may not have escaped your notice over the years that I’m a sentimental guy, and nowhere is this more apparent than my incorrigible hoarding of treasures. With this in mind, I’ve so far only dared use Olio for purging purposes. (Gotta make space for more treasures!) But rarely has a day gone by where I didn’t think about one particularly majestic find: Cow of the world painting.
I think I was particularly enchanted by the humble simplicity of the description: ‘Painting of the world, on a cow. Not my handiwork.’
To this day, I have so many questions. How did this Meisterwerk come to be?? How big is it? We’ve been given no dimensions, and the photo gives nothing away for scale, so I have to assume that Cow of the World is simply enormous. And if - as he takes great pains to make clear - it wasn’t Felix [the owner of CoTW] who wrestled this bovine miracle into being, then whose was the mind behind it?
I like to imagine the artist felt like Michelangelo did when he was asked (so the story goes) about sculpting his David, and apparently replied : ‘It’s simple. I just remove everything that is not David.’
Mystery artist: ‘It’s simple. I just paint NOTHING that isn’t the cow of the world.’
Was ‘not my handiwork’ a simple passing of the buck? Or - and this is my preferred version - was his pre-emptive rejection of any possible credit, beyond that of the mere custodian, an act of true humility?
There can only be one certainty: sometimes this world is just too weird and beautiful to believe. Emblazoned on a cow, or no.
(I had wondered whether this newsletter would read like sponsored content, and you might all think I was in the pocket of Big Olio. But I think we can all agree that as ad campaigns go, with the slogan ‘Sometimes this world is just too weird and beautiful to believe. Emblazoned on a cow, or no.’ the app pretty much sells itself.)
The Cameo
My guest this week is Monica Heisey.
Photo by Rachel Sherlock
What’s your job title/profession?
I’m a writer and sometimes a comedian.
What’s your perfect breakfast/lunch for a workday?
I love a toasted English muffin with some peanut butter and a few raspberries squished on top, or a green smoothie. There is something very appealing about cramming five servings of fruit and veg in before 11.
(What do you actually have for breakfast/lunch?)
If I’m working from home I’ll have one of the things I described above. If I have to be somewhere in the real world before 10:30, it’s coffee and a protein bar on the train.
What’s your alarm sound?
The default one that came with my iPhone.
Do you have a set morning routine?
My mornings vary a lot—I wake up between 8 and 9:30. I throw treats around for my cat to chase (she can’t go outside because of medical condition, so we have to bribe her into exercise indoors). I do emails while I eat my breakfast and then I try to get my shit together to be writing by 10:30.
Do you have a dedicated/preferred space for writing? If so, what does it look like?
I’ve lived in so many crappy flatshares that I can basically write from anywhere. I work in bed a lot, and in the afternoons I try to decamp to a second location so I’m not just in my house all day becoming isolated and strange.
Preferred stationary/tools of the trade? Essential work items?
Moleskine has me in a chokehold. I always have a large notebook full of unlined pages for all the lists I make on the go. I have several to do lists on the go at any given time, digital and physical. Otherwise it’s just me, my laptop, and caffeine.
What inspires you? (Name 1-3 things if that makes this massive question easier!)
Reading other people’s work; seeing others reading on the Tube; seeing people continue to make art after personal or professional failure.
What’s your favourite thing about your job?
The freedom to set my own schedule most of the time. The ability to spend a day in bed watching movies or reading in a cafe and call it work.
Least favourite?
Sometimes I have to have my photo taken and I find this very unpleasant.
What do you do to get through days when you just don’t feel like it?
It is an enormous privilege of my job that when I really don’t feel like it… I don’t have to do it. I’ve actually found it saves me time overall to take a full day off when, for whatever reason, nothing is Coming. I’ve tried to push through, and you just end up sitting at your computer for an entire day, spine and brain atrophying in real time. Much better to take the day, nourish your brain and bod if you can, and try again tomorrow.
Do you have a go-to treat to get you out of a slump?
I like to treat myself to a little browse of unrealistic house listings when I’m really stuck. Nothing like a bit of fantasy real estate to motivate you to get back to work. My workday is sponsored by The Modern House.
Go-to work sustenance, meal, drink or snack-wise?
I like to take a big long break to make lunch at about 2 or 3. It can be a plate of assorted bits (salami, a babybel, some veg and dried fruit and nuts) or a sandwich or big salad or bowl… the meal itself is less important than the act of getting up, putting down the phone and computer and puttering around the kitchen putting it together and then eating it. A good way to regroup/break up the day.
How you define a good/successful day?
It’s hard to feel like my work is “finished” on a given day, so it’s always nice to complete something - a full episode, a chapter, a treatment - that I can then send to someone else. Doing this really makes me feel like I have permission to shut the computer. It’s your problem now!
What’s been your favourite failure? One that you learnt a lot from, or one that you can look back and say ‘well I got through THAT, I’m unstoppable!’
I think I’m in the middle of it. Will report back!!!
Any hot tips for the old work-life-balance conundrum?
I do not have any balance in either area. I think very flexible work can be a blessing and curse in this way—on the one hand, my life can fit around my work however I would like it to, on the other hand, my work can creep into my life very, very easily, and if I’m not careful it can take over.
Do you have any hobbies/passions outside of your work?
I love weight lifting, spin classes, and cooking. I’m increasingly passionate about anything that occupies both my hands because it means I can’t be on my phone.
What’s one piece of advice you would give to someone who wants to do what you do?
Read and watch a lot. The first step to making anything you like is to build up your own taste levels, understand what you think is good or bad or smart or funny, and why. The next step is being generous with yourself when your early efforts do not meet your own taste levels. (This is very hard.)
What’s the best piece of advice someone’s ever given you? (Or worst!)
I did a panel about getting into TV writing once, and another member of the panel said to new writers: “A lot of people are funny. Be professional.” This is very boring and very good advice! Being funny is one part of being a comedy writer, but so is showing up on time, being prepared, being good in the room and supportive of your colleagues. The worst advice I ever got was “write drunk, edit sober.” Do not do this.
What’s your top tip for getting shit done?
It doesn’t need to be perfect, it just needs to be finished. Just get it down and send it out, you can fix it later!!
Follow Monica on Twitter: @monicaheisey and Instagram: @monicaheisey
Buy her book! Really Good, Actually is brilliant (my opinion, but widely corroborated) and an international bestseller (objective fact). And it came out in paperback earlier this week! So you haven’t a reason in the world not to buy it.
(Personally? I hate a hardback. Can’t get on with them. But I bought THIS book in hardback. I could pretend it was for reasons of friendship, but really it was just because I couldn’t wait to read it.)
Some Music
I wanted to make a playlist on the theme of Cow of the World. For a theme open to so many interpretations, I have opted for this one: beauty immeasurable.
My friend Jenna sent me the first song - Stacy, In Her Wedding Gown (by the brilliant Maya de Vitry) - because she suspected I’d love it. Wow was she right.
A Poem
Go to the Limits of Your Longing
by Rainer Maria Rilke; translated by Joanna Macy
God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night These are the words we dimly hear: You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don’t let yourself lose me. Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by its seriousness. Give me your hand. Book of Hours, I 59
This poem is from Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God. Translation by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows.
Many years ago, I saw some lines from this poem on a plate, and I took a photo of the plate as a reminder: ‘One day, if I can justify spending money on wise ceramics, it will be mine.’ (A treasure to be defensibly hoarded!) Of course I promptly forgot where I’d seen it, so every now and then I just look at the photo, longingly. The point is, it’s a great poem, and if you own this plate? Well done.
Links!
After today, you’ll never again be able to say you didn’t know there was a Danish scientist in the 16th century called Ole Worm.
If you’re looking to give your CV a bit of a freshen-up (I know mine is basically a cobweb in PDF form), Harvard has free resume, CV and cover letter resources!
I find this TikTok of @corin_horn playing french horn through a vocoder absolutely mesmerising. All his videos are incredible, and make me feel like I don’t know how anything works. In a good way! People are so clever!
Types of Monk, In Order of How Often They Want You To Visit.
Do NOT come over!!! At MOST you can send something up in a bucket. like a single grape or a very important question you would like me to ask God.
Another day, another moustache. Ben made this series last year, and for reasons I don’t fully understand, YouTube has just recently become obsessed with recommending it to me. But you know what? Sometimes the algorithm just gets me. I love it!
The Top 10 British birdsongs. I found this article fascinating, surprisingly moving, and very accessible for bird know-nothings like me.
I especially enjoyed this measured dunk on the mistle thrush:
That a mistle thrush in song can easily be mistaken for a blackbird speaks for itself. Mistle thrush music has a stirring stridency. It is a little harsh but the song is delivered with such spirit it well deserves its place at number five.
Some major Autumnal nostalgia. (I’m sorry if this one means nothing to you. Can it be enjoyed as a standalone piece? Let me know.)
And that’s it! See you soon!
Love,
Katya
The Katch-Up's header illustration is by the brilliant Tamsin Baker. She also made me this gif which I will happily stare at for longer than I’d like to admit.
You can find previous letters - all 40 of them! - here.