Hello, and happy Friday!
This correspondence comes to you after a brief pause. I spent the past few weeks on a string of reporting trips: the first to Scotland, where I went to report out my second profile for TIME (no, it’s not who you think it is); the second took me to the east of England, where I spent some time reporting out an exciting feature. I’ll be able to share more on both stories soon!
In other news, last week marked six years since I moved to London. This time a year ago, I was preparing to take the Life in the U.K. Test, a requirement for those seeking permanent residency or citizenship in Britain. This fun essay by fellow American Brian Klaas reminded me just how silly the exam is, and all the practical things about British life that the test-prep materials leave out.
So, in honor of my London-versary, here are my top tips for what you actually need to know to live in this country (or at least in London):
“You all right?” is an actual greeting, not an expression of genuine concern.
Yes, Brits often say “sorry”; no, they do not always mean it sincerely.
American English and British English might as well be two different languages. Case in point: Brits stand in queues, not lines. They walk on the pavement, not the sidewalk. Fries are chips and chips are crisps. Sweaters are jumpers, sneakers are trainers, and on cars, trunks are boots and hoods are bonnets. If a Brit tells you that they are pissed, they mean not that they’re angry, but that they’re drunk. But if they accuse you of taking the piss, they’re probably pissed at you.
Talking (or, more likely, whinging) about the weather is a perfectly acceptable conversation starter.
If you have guests over, do offer them a cup of tea, or cuppa. Note: This process does not, at any point, require a microwave. The milk should be poured in after the hot water, not before. Don’t believe otherwise.
The chocolate bourbon is the perfect biscuit (don’t call it a cookie).
When on an escalator, stand on the right; walk on the left. Expect to be judged—or worse, tutted at—if you don’t.
When in doubt about which direction the traffic flows while preparing to cross the street, simply look down.
It’s the London Underground or the Tube, not the metro. As a rule of thumb, always let people off the train before boarding. Always offer your seat if you see someone who needs it more than you. If you run to catch a Victoria Line train, you will look silly. If you see something that doesn’t look right, speak to staff or text the British Transport Police on 61016. We'll sort it. See it. Say it. Sorted.
What I’ve written
For the inaugural TIME100 AI list, I profiled four major shapers in the AI world: Europe’s digital czar Margrethe Vestager, Taiwan’s first-ever digital affairs minister Audrey Tang, the United Arab Emirates’ AI minister Omar al-Olama, and British politico turned AI expert Verity Harding.
I also co-wrote a piece in the run up to the recent G20 summit and what Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi hoped to gain from the gathering:
“It’s very clear that Modi has politicized [India’s] G20 presidency in order to not only try to achieve domestic political goals, but also to show that Modi can do this well and that he has the strength to pull this off,” says Kugelman. “And of course, that’s nothing to sneeze at, given that India’s election is coming up in less than a year.” Keep reading here
What I’ve read
This tremendous cover story by the great Jenisha Watts, which might just be the best piece of writing I’ve read this year (The Atlantic)
I’d done this as a child as well, imagining who I could have been if I’d had a different kind of family. Who I could have been had my mother been a professor, an artist, a writer.
But I didn’t grow up in a Harlem brownstone. I didn’t have a professor or an artist or a writer for a mother. And Maya Angelou wasn’t my grandmother.
I was Jenisha from Kentucky, and I was raised in a crack house.
This terrific excerpt from McKay Coppins’ forthcoming book on Senator Mitt Romney, who recently announced he won’t be seeking reelection (The Atlantic)
Romney’s isolation in Washington didn’t surprise me. In less than a decade, he’d gone from Republican standard-bearer and presidential nominee to party pariah thanks to a series of public clashes with Trump. What I didn’t quite expect was how candid he was ready to be. He instructed his scheduler to block off evenings for weekly interviews, and told me that no subject would be off-limits. He handed over hundreds of pages of his private journals and years’ worth of personal correspondence, including sensitive emails with some of the most powerful Republicans in the country. When he couldn’t find the key to an old filing cabinet that contained some of his personal papers, he took a crowbar to it and deposited stacks of campaign documents and legal pads in my lap. He’d kept all of this stuff, he explained, because he thought he might write a memoir one day, but he’d decided against it. “I can’t be objective about my own life,” he said.
This great interview with British parliamentarian turned podcast host Rory Stewart, whose show The Rest if Politics I’ve been really enjoying lately (The Times of London)
The Rest Is Politics is downloaded six million times a month, has brought what Campbell calls “Championship” salaries (reported to be around £70,000 a month) and huge personal popularity (“Oh, I love Rory!” cries everyone I know). … So what is the appeal? It is a well-informed conversation between two men from opposing parties who’ve worked at the heart of government, met world leaders, have stories to tell. But it also reflects a yearning for courteous debate and pragmatism in an age of social media pile-ons and culture wars. Stewart believes the centre ground is not a midpoint or a grey between black and white. “Rather it is the tension between us: disagreements [between him and Campbell] on austerity, or our differences in background.” But it is also the political tensions within us. “I think we as humans are divided. In Alastair’s case, this is more literal because he’s very conscious of sometimes being up and sometimes being down. But all of us are two, not one.”
What I’m thinking about
Next month, I’m running the Royal Parks Half Marathon in support of the Rory Peck Trust, a vital charity dedicated to supporting and protecting freelance journalists worldwide. As a journalist who has spent her entire career working for large and well-equipped news organizations in places where press freedom is abundant, I’m in awe of my freelance colleagues who take great risks to share the stories that the world wouldn’t otherwise get to hear, often at the risk of being wounded, imprisoned, forced into exile, or even killed as a result of their work.
If you’re in a position to contribute, I’d be so grateful for your support. £1, £5—no amount is too small. Click here to donate.
Until next time,
Yasmeen