Tag: Emma

  • Digested week: how can the US embrace James Corden, but not quiche? | Emma Brockes

    Digested week: how can the US embrace James Corden, but not quiche? | Emma Brockes

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    Monday

    A milestone in television history this morning, as the last ever Carpool Karaoke, the hugely popular section of James Corden’s CBS Late Late Show in which he interviews music icons while driving them around, airs ahead of his final show. Put it down to lack of eye contact, novelty format, or the sheer balls of a host willing to chip in and duet with Celine Dion, but even for Corden-sceptics the feature was irresistible. The most viewed Carpool of all time was the 2016 episode starring Adele, which has been watched on YouTube by more than 260 million people. Adele is a hoot. Corden is – I can’t believe I’m saying this – delightful. It is a genuinely great piece of television.

    Cut to this week and the farewell episode in which Adele returns for the final ride. As an exercise, none of us might welcome being held up against former versions of ourselves. Still, this is a tough one to watch. In the original segment, Corden and Adele drove around rainy London. She was bundled up in a coat, looked like she’d done her own makeup and banged on guilelessly about all the times she’d been drunk and unruly in public, or hungover in the park with her son. Corden, an effortless foil, was so spontaneous and funny that my friend Tiff and I still quote lines from it (“I mean, what I like is that you’re coming to me for this advice”; “I ain’t got time for that!”).

    Seven years later and the pair are driving around LA in harsh sunlight. Corden is sycophantic and lachrymose; Adele is styled to within an inch of her life. They spend most of the journey fawning over each other in what might be a public health warning about money and fame. Oh, well. Nothing lasts forever. The sad thing is Corden is quitting the show to return to the UK just as the Americans have got the hang of British attitudes towards him. In Variety magazine, a recent piece about Corden’s departure speculated about what he might do on his return and, breaking with the obsequiousness of the entertainment press, summarised his acting career in Britain as – sharp intake of breath at the stone cold viciousness of this – “relatively successful”.

    Tuesday

    I’m behind on the saga of William, Harry, Rupert and Charles, and have to scramble to get up to speed. Harry is suing Rupert for phone hacking, that much I know. But then in court on Tuesday it surfaces in documents that, according to Harry, in 2020 Rupert paid off William secretly – “a very large sum” – in return for him agreeing to take no further legal action against him. This was done, Harry says in the court filings, because the royals “wanted to avoid at all costs the sort of reputational damage that it had suffered in 1993 when the Sun and another tabloid had unlawfully obtained and published details of an intimate telephone conversation that took place between my father and stepmother in 1989, while he was still married to my mother”.

    The real target of these remarks would seem not to be Rupert, but Charles, as Harry’s Scorched Earth Tour: No Bridge Unburned continues to roll out. Harry would also seem to be targeting William for allegedly going along with Charles’s appeasement of Rupert, while tangentially going after Camilla for being in the mix at all. The spectre of Diana hangs over everything and oh, look, heads up, there’s Hugh. I have sympathy for them all at this point, with the obvious exception of Rupert, for whom, of course, no sympathy is due at this or any other time.

    Wednesday

    Donald Trump’s lawyers appear in court in New York on Wednesday for the former president’s second legal outing of the month, this time in answer to a defamation suit brought by the writer E Jean Carroll, who the former president called a liar after she accused him of rape. If Trump’s appearance downtown for his arraignment at the beginning of April was an anticlimactic affair, Wednesday’s proceedings are a different matter entirely. Before things can even get under way Judge Lewis A Kaplan has rebuked Trump for ranting against his accuser on social media (the former president called Carroll’s accusations a “made-up SCAM” and a “fraudulent & false story”). The alleged assault took place in 1996 in the changing room of a department store, and almost 30 years later Carroll is resolute in her testimony. Elegant, composed, carefully choosing her words, she is the polar opposite of the man having a meltdown in Florida. At the end of a day of testifying, and with the prospect of hostile questioning on Thursday, Carroll is, finally, emotional. She says the thing that the vast majority of alleged rape victims never get the chance to say: “I’m crying because I’m happy I got to tell my story in court.”

    Thursday

    A welcome retreat from Trump ugliness in the form of Judy Blume, who is everywhere this week: on Good Morning America, in a documentary on Amazon Prime, in a profile in the New Yorker and all media outlets in between. Her agent once told her that kids raised on her books in the 80s would grow up to commission the movies and so it has come to pass, with the release of the film version of Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret next week, triggering the huge wave of interest. Blume is a modest figure, running her independent book store in Key West, Florida, where the foot traffic has become so huge that she can no longer sign books on the fly, instead taking home written requests to work through in her own time. One arresting fact from the documentary: in the 1960s, a publisher friend of Blume’s ex-husband condescended to look over an early manuscript of hers and sent her a letter telling her: back luck, old thing, you can’t write, give up. The letter galvanised her. In the almost 60 years since, Blume has sold more than 90 million books.

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    Friday

    I’ve had quiche on my mind ever since the coronation recipe came out (I’m not big on the broad bean element), and it’s a hard item to find in New York. Gourmet Garage near my house stocks a few, but the pastry is suspect and the flan, the soul of the quiche, is thin and grey and doesn’t have the requisite eggy wobble. Thankfully, there’s a legendary Aussie bakery in my neighbourhood that sorted me for hot cross buns at Easter (my only quibble with them was that, in capitulation to American tastes, they made the crosses out of – brace yourselves – white icing). Aussies love a quiche as much as we do, and at Bourke Street Bakery on Friday, there they are in all their glory: one spinach, one quiche lorraine. I have to stop myself breaking into a flat run to get them home and in the oven.

    Sunak and Meloni
    ‘If she leans out any further she’s going to get her head stuck in the railings.’ Photograph: Daniel Pereira/NurPhoto/Shutterstock
    Charles and flag
    ‘One would like to see what standards and colours they have in Montecito.’ Photograph: WPA/Getty Images

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    #Digested #week #embrace #James #Corden #quiche #Emma #Brockes
    ( With inputs from : www.theguardian.com )

  • ‘Better team lost’: Emma Hayes says Chelsea had Barcelona panicking

    ‘Better team lost’: Emma Hayes says Chelsea had Barcelona panicking

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    Emma Hayes said she was proud of her players following their Champions League semi-final exit after a 1-1 draw with Barcelona at Camp Nou was not enough to overturn the 1-0 defeat at Stamford Bridge.

    “For us, we’re not going through because of the home tie,” said Hayes. “It’s very difficult to come here. If there was a little bit longer in the game, I think we would have gone on and won it. But I can’t ask for any more, I don’t know many teams that can come here and put them under pressure. They were panicking, you could hear it on the touchline. Even their manager got booked, they’re not used to that.”

    The England defender Niamh Charles said: “We did not come here simply to soak up Barça pressure and then play on the break. We tried to balance knowing where and when to push and press but also when to sit and hold at the right time, because we respect them. Across this and the first leg, it’s about fine details. We’ll come again next year.”

    Guro Reiten’s goal for Chelsea came four minutes after her compatriot Caroline Graham Hansen had extended Barcelona’s lead in the tie to two goals. It was a moment to stun the home crowd, which is not used to seeing Barcelona conceding given that the Catalan giants have let in just five goals in the league this season. At the Camp Nou this season in the WCL they had previously beaten Rosengard 6-0, Roma 5-1 and Bayern Munich 3-0: an average of 4.6 goals per game.

    “Look at the previous results here,” said Hayes. “I don’t think you understand how challenging it is playing in this stadium with an unbeaten record in the last four years. You have to stay in football matches. I can’t criticise our performance tonight. We’re going out in the competition because of the home leg. Today, I think the better team lost.”

    Hayes added that “the gap is closing across Europe and today’s performance was evidence of that.”

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    Responding to the claim that the better team had lost, Barcelona manager Jonatan Giráldez said: “I think there [at Stamford Bridge] we were better. For me, the result there was tighter than it should have been and in the return leg we were superior as well in general. We dominated almost the entire game.”

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    #team #lost #Emma #Hayes #Chelsea #Barcelona #panicking
    ( With inputs from : www.theguardian.com )

  • The terrible truth about the sacking of Tucker Carlson: someone just as odious will replace him | Emma Brockes

    The terrible truth about the sacking of Tucker Carlson: someone just as odious will replace him | Emma Brockes

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    It is a truism of the US news industry that no one is bigger than the network itself, an insight that Donald Trump – binned by Rupert Murdoch last year – may still be painfully processing, and which this week became suddenly clear to Tucker Carlson.

    The former cable news host, who, it was announced on Monday, had “agreed to part ways” with the network, has hired an aggressive Hollywood lawyer – and in line with the preferred volume of the man generally, seems unlikely to go quietly. Even as the share price at Fox dropped in response to the news, wiping $500m (£400m) off its value in apparent flattery of Carlson, the question remains pertinent as to how much he, and those like him, matter as individuals.

    If you are looking to fill a spare five minutes, it is an enjoyable thought experiment to rank in order of sheer flesh-crawling hideousness some of Fox News’s fallen stars. Where does Carlson place, for example, compared with Glenn Beck, the former Fox personality who, prior to his dismissal in 2011, had a shot at the title of America’s most awful man? Or Bill O’Reilly, a man who was given the boot in 2017 after news surfaced that the company had paid up to $13m in settlements to women accusing him of sexual harassment?

    For a while, a sense has prevailed that these former giants – add to the list the former Fox News head Roger Ailes, ousted in 2016 in the wake of sexual harassment allegations – have been banished from frontline positions, and the hope prospers that Carlson might be among the last. The fact he has lasted this long, and the likely reasons for his departure, however, point in another direction.

    For my money, Carlson – who is presently the subject of his own lawsuit, brought by Abby Grossberg, a senior producer who alleges he was responsible for creating a misogynist and hostile work environment – edges out even O’Reilly for pure anti-charisma. If O’Reilly was gross in a standard Fox News style, in Carlson’s case it was his very blandness, the Tintin hair and look of perpetual confusion, that made him more objectionable than all of his predecessors.

    It is always fascinating to consider the tipping point at which behaviour previously tolerated by Fox becomes suddenly intolerable to the company – and for Carlson, it seems unlikely it’s the Grossberg lawsuit. It might not even be his role in fanning the flames of the January 6 riot that has just cost the company $787.5m in settlement money to shut down the lawsuit brought by Dominion Voting Systems.

    Had it gone to trial, Carlson would surely have been a liability, given the way he encouraged viewers to regard the presidential election as rigged. At the same time, behind the scenes, he was lambasting Trump’s lawyers for selling a line to the public that Carlson himself seems not to have believed. “You’ve convinced them that Trump will win,” he wrote to an attorney for Trump in November 2020. “If you don’t have conclusive evidence of fraud at that scale, it’s a cruel and reckless thing to keep saying.”

    More irksome to his employers, however, might have been his off-the-cuff comments about Trump at a time when Fox officially still backed the former president. In early January 2021, in an exchange with members of his staff, Carlson wrote: “We are very, very close to being able to ignore Trump most nights. I truly can’t wait,” and: “I hate him passionately.”

    I dare say Murdoch hated Trump, too, at that point, but for a network like Fox, it is dangerous to show the workings of the sausage machine too closely. There comes a point where the gap between the true feelings of network bosses and the line they are selling to viewers becomes so large that even those at the back who aren’t paying attention may catch a whiff of the true venality of the operation.

    The most surprising thing to have come out since Carlson’s departure, however, is the breakdown in viewing figures. At the time of his ousting, Carlson was the highest rated cable news host in the US, pulling in more than 3 million viewers nightly. By contrast, Chris Hayes over on MSNBC attracts around 1.3 million viewers and Anderson Cooper, the most boring man on television, scores around 700,000 on CNN in that time slot.

    These are decent figures. But dig down into the details, and among viewers aged between 25 and 54 – the most attractive demographic – Carlson hovered around the 330,000 mark. This is more than his rivals, for sure, but is still a tiny number of people relative to the sheer amount of oxygen this man has taken up over the last five years.

    He will write a book. He’ll launch a podcast. He may accept a flippantly offered $25m job opportunity from the far-right news channel OAN. As with his predecessors, the memory of Carlson will fade quickly to irrelevance as we’re reminded it’s the platform that pulls the strings, not the person. Someone equally odious will replace him.

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    #terrible #truth #sacking #Tucker #Carlson #odious #replace #Emma #Brockes
    ( With inputs from : www.theguardian.com )

  • Making waves: the female athletes plotting a course for SailGP history | Emma John

    Making waves: the female athletes plotting a course for SailGP history | Emma John

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    If you wanted to see how SailGP is changing the culture of sailing, last month’s event in Singapore offered a perfect visual. Each of the boat’s crews carry two grinders, usually a pair of towering men with Popeye biceps whose arms can generate the same power output as an Olympic rowers’ legs. When the US boat won the second race of the heats, however, there was a woman at the winch. She was 5ft 4in and 19 years old.

    “I’m probably the world’s smallest grinder,” says a laughing CJ Perez, the team strategist who also grinds when winds are especially light. “The first time I did it, two years ago, I was gassed afterwards.”

    She took herself to the gym and worked on her strength. After the race in Singapore, she screamed with delight as they crossed the finish line. “I was just so happy, I felt I had helped the team a lot.”

    This is season three of SailGP, the global competition designed by the America’s Cup legend Russell Coutts to be the Formula One of sailing. In its roster of “grand prix”, foiling catamarans fly around courses at such high speeds that their hulls never need to touch the water and sailors are pinned to the sides of the craft by the G-force. On Saturday and Sunday, spectators will flock to the Sydney shoreline to watch the spectacle, promising everything from physics-defying manoeuvres to dramatic capsizes and, occasionally, collisions.

    Natasha Bryant, strategist for Australia SailGP, at the Spain Sail Grand Prix in September.
    Natasha Bryant, strategist for Australia SailGP, at the Spain Sail Grand Prix in September. Photograph: Ricardo Pinto for SailGP

    Not so long ago, there was no such thing as a professional racing career in sailing. The apex of the sport, the America’s Cup, takes place every four years and opportunities to take part have always been restricted to a handful of athletes. They have always been men.

    SailGP’s inaugural season in 2018 was an all-male affair, but when it returned for its second edition in 2020-21, the rules required every team to take to the water with at least one female crew member. Their “women’s pathway programme” was intended to open up elite racing and its immediate success proves how powerful such structural interventions can be.

    Perez grew up in Honolulu, but while all her friends surfed she never tried watersports until six years ago. “I didn’t come from a family of sailors,” she says, “and I don’t want to say I was clueless, but all I wanted was to get on the water and go fast. It wasn’t until I started going abroad and racing internationally that I saw, wow, there aren’t enough females in the sport.”

    A natural from the moment she stepped in a boat, Perez won her first world title within two years. Jimmy Spithill, captain of SailGP’s USA team, was the youngest winner of the America’s Cup in 2010 and when he saw videos of Perez he knew he was looking at a future star. In 2021, she made her SailGP debut, the first Latina and the youngest woman in the competition.

    She admits to more than a few rookie mistakes. “The first day I went on the F50 I had put my wetsuit on backwards,” she says. “The guys on the chase boat pointed it out. The logos were all on my butt.”

    The generation gap with the rest of the crew (at 43, Spithill is old enough to be her father) makes for equally amusing culture clash at the team’s HQ, where the soundtrack is usually 80s music and country. “I want to listen to hip-hop and talk about boys, but I don’t think they’re into that.”

    Natasha Bryant, of the Australia team, is three years older than Perez. Growing up in north Sydney, her ambition was to play soccer for her country. “I had my heart set on being a Matilda,” she says. “But my brother was getting competitive with his sailing and he needed a training partner.”

    Aged 11, she went out on the water with him every day after school, a sibling rivalry that pushed them both. Their next-door neighbour and babysitter Jason Waterhouse, who won a silver medal at the 2016 Olympics, was their sporting role model. He’s now Bryant’s crew-mate on the Australia team.

    CJ Perez, strategist for the USA team, after a practice session for the Denmark SailGP.
    CJ Perez, strategist for the USA team, after a practice session for the Denmark SailGP. Photograph: Ricardo Pinto for SailGP

    Like Perez, Bryant had been surprised by the small pool of female talent. “At our first youth world championships there were 250 boats and less than 20 of those were girls’ teams.” Having missed out on selection at her first SailGP trial, she found herself on an F50 a few weeks later and was handed the wheel by the Australia captain, Tom Slingsby.

    “I was there as the reserve sailor, so I wasn’t even sure if I’d get on the boat,” says Bryant. “But Tom didn’t give me any time to think about it, he just said ‘here you go’… I was really naive. Everyone laughs at me, but I’d only been in dinghies before, so I’d never sailed anything with a wheel. I was thinking: ‘OK, it’ll be kind of like driving a car.’ It wasn’t.”

    Skippering an F50 is like nothing else on earth. Flying speeds of up to 60mph (Olympic-class boats top out at less than 20mph) require quick thinking and nerves of steel. They also demand perfect communication between the crew, especially the wing trimmer, responsible for managing the windpower to the boat, and the flight controller, whose job is to keep the boat off the water and gliding on its foils. Two grinders work on the winch handles to move the wing back and forth as required.

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    The remaining role, which all of the women on the pathway programme assume, is that of strategist, feeding information that helps the team make best use of conditions and anticipating the movements of the other boats to find the driver the fastest route. “The races are so short that if you collide or get stuck with traffic it’s really hard to get out of it,” says Bryant. “And everything happens so quickly that the further ahead you can plan the easier it is to have a smooth clean race.”

    For Hannah Mills, the role came naturally. She and Ben Ainslie are the most successful British Olympic sailors of all time and their skills complement each other well. “Ben used to be a single-handed sailor, whereas I have always sailed double-handed,” she says. “I came from Tokyo with a lot of skills and experience in communicating in a team.”

    Hannah Mills at the San Francisco SailGP last year
    Hannah Mills at the San Francisco SailGP last year. Photograph: Thomas Lovelock for SailGP

    Bryant found the most urgent lesson was when to talk and when not to. “In my first few races I got so nervous I was a little bit quiet.” The encouragement of her more experienced male teammates gave her confidence. “Now I pretend I’m the one driving and think: ‘What input would I like to hear right now?’”

    All three women want to become drivers and they can achieve that only by gaining experience on the F50s, which is hard when the athletes sail the boats for only three days each race weekend. “The lack of training time is the biggest challenge,” says Perez.

    “The organisers have talked about putting in a training block next season to have the women on the boat for longer, but you need funding to do that.” She will miss the next two races to give other women on the US team the opportunity to sail.

    The Australia GP will be Mills’s third race; she debuted in 2021 before stepping back to have her first baby. Off the boat, she took responsibility for a number of gender equality and sustainability projects including the Athena Pathway, which she and Ainslie launched last August to fast-track female athletes into high-performance foiling and encourage young people into careers within the sport. It is the engine room for the British campaign to win the first Women’s America’s Cup and defend the Youth America’s Cup in Barcelona next year.

    Returning post-pregnancy was a feat of physical preparation. “I was nervous because I’d gone from being in the best form of my life at the Tokyo Olympics to a very different body,” says Mills. In Singapore, she had her ankles taped to combat the softening of ligaments that occurs when breastfeeding.

    Motherhood contributed to her decision not to launch an Olympic campaign for Paris 2024, but the opportunities afforded by SailGP are also a factor. Bryant, who missed out on selection for Tokyo, says even a year ago she never imagined any career in sailing beyond the Olympic Games. “It was what I wanted to do for so many years and it’s weird to change my mind, but SailGP has given us an avenue I never really thought was possible. I enjoy being with this team and I’m learning so much.”

    Thanks to her fellow crew, Bryant owns her first Moth, a foiling dinghy for single-handed racing, while Perez will soon be in Miami, trialling for the USA team for the Women’s America’s Cup. “In high school I didn’t even think sailing was a profession,” she says. “This is history in the making.”

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    #Making #waves #female #athletes #plotting #SailGP #history #Emma #John
    ( With inputs from : www.theguardian.com )

  • Uber Eats is begging me to come back – but I’m out there in the real world, supermarket shopping | Emma Brockes

    Uber Eats is begging me to come back – but I’m out there in the real world, supermarket shopping | Emma Brockes

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    There’s a pathetic but satisfying thing that occurs when you stop using an online service you’re used to frequenting. This was Facebook a few years ago, when plummeting engagement whipped the social media platform into a frenzy of desperate invitations and prompts. It’s Fresh Direct when you fill your basket with groceries and – I can’t recommend this enough, if you’re looking for the tiny high that comes from withholding – don’t check out, triggering a bunch of wheedling automated messages, begging you to come back.

    This week, in my life, it’s Uber Eats. For the past couple of years I’ve ordered from them once a week and now I’ve stopped, causing the food delivery service to issue a flurry of semi-hysterical special offers. Each spam text, each begging notification, reminds me of the money I’m saving. If you like rejecting things (I like rejecting things) then this exercise will thrill you: rejection without the human cost of hurting someone’s feelings.

    The bigger picture, obviously, is a consumer trend away from the convenience-related services that surged during the pandemic. Companies that boomed and attracted millions in investment are starting to wither as our online habits change. In the US, instant delivery startups such as Buyk and Jokr, which briefly boomed in 2021, are declaring bankruptcy or pulling out of the US market. The meal-kit company Blue Apron has seen its share price plunge as food costs have risen and consumer interest in pricey convenience products has dwindled. The same goes for Stitch Fix, a service for clothing delivery that briefly boomed during the pandemic. And all of this in the context of mass lay-offs in tech at a time when those companies, seemingly, have nowhere left to expand.

    Supermarket shopping: ‘The joy, withheld during those two years of disruption, of going to a place and doing a thing.’
    Supermarket shopping: ‘The joy, withheld during those two years of disruption, of going to a place and doing a thing.’ Photograph: Adam Vaughan/EPA

    Though it may be bad for the economy, from the perspective of an individual trying to have a life that entails leaving the house, this trend is perhaps an encouraging sign. The same encouragement might be taken from the slowdown at Netflix; many of us are capped out after too many hours of watching TV. I’m not exactly out there every morning taking invigorating walks, but I am reading again, feeling more inclined to work rather than pass out on the sofa, and to seek out real-world rather than online experience. If habits inculcated during the pandemic were supposed to augur the future, as Derek Thompson wrote in the Atlantic last month, “the post-pandemic economy has been much weirder than most people anticipated”.

    For me, the weirdest of these impulses has been a desire to return to supermarket shopping. This is partly money-related; the downturn in fast-food delivery earnings is clearly linked to pinched household incomes. It’s also a health thing; many of us are still trying to reverse the damage done by all the junk food we ate during lockdown.

    But of all the habits adopted in the past couple of years, it seemed as if grocery delivery might be the obvious keeper. Post-pandemic, maybe no one wants a hulking great Peloton in their living room and the appeal of the third place – be it the gym or Starbucks – is enjoying an obvious bounce-back. But supermarket shopping, at least in New York where I live, has rarely been a pleasure. It has always been time-consuming, stressful and over-crowded, with in-store prices not much lower than what you pay for delivery. And yet, every Monday, I feel compelled to stand in line at Trader Joe’s, and stagger home carrying six bags of shopping.

    All I can put this desire down to is a combination of the small satisfaction that comes from making even minor economies in the present climate; and something less tangible to do with the joy, withheld during those two years of disruption, of going to a place and doing a thing. The expense of energy has itself become a virtue. Its inverse – ordering in; falling back on convenience and paying for it – seems not only to belong to a sadder period but, at this point, when one can go out, using one’s actual body, to feel like a moral failing. If it’s a hair shirt, perhaps it feels good simply in contrast to our pandemic wardrobe. Meanwhile, I suspect watching Uber Eats freak out will never get old.

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    #Uber #Eats #begging #real #world #supermarket #shopping #Emma #Brockes
    ( With inputs from : www.theguardian.com )

  • Being single has a lot going for it, but £10k a year seems too high a price for the privilege | Emma John

    Being single has a lot going for it, but £10k a year seems too high a price for the privilege | Emma John

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    Some claim that the first day in the third week of January is the most depressing one in the calendar. This year, Blue Monday arrived with added cruelty – for those of us who happen to be single, at least. A financial services firm chose just that miserable moment to reveal how much more expensive it is to live on your own than in a couple.

    If you’re currently alone, and the post-holiday slump already has you feeling down about it, you may want to look away now. According to the brokers Hargreaves Lansdown, the cost of living premium for being single comes in at an average £860 a month, factoring in typical expenses from rent and energy bills to groceries, wifi and TV subscriptions.

    That’s a whopping figure in isolation – an additional £10,000 a year in outgoings – and it wounds even deeper when you compare it with what your partnered friends are paying. The average couple spend £991 per person, so if you’re living alone you’re spending nearly twice the amount they are on the exact same goods and services. For those who didn’t choose their solo state, it’s adding impecuniousness to injury.

    As a long-term single, I’ve become inured to the injustice of the single supplement – the one that demands I pay extra for eating less breakfast and soiling fewer towels. I scoff at the misleadingly titled “discount” I receive from the council, which taxes me 75% of the married rate for using only 50% of the services (and arguably less, because I’m childless).

    Still, I’ve rarely wasted much time wondering how life without a partner affects my finances. That’s not because I’m comfortably cushioned by personal wealth (which would be nice) but because I have always assumed these things even out overall. Since I don’t share my worldly goods with another person, I have never watched my bank account being depleted by someone making purchases I neither want nor need. Nor have I copped the eye-watering expense of raising children or had to stump up the galling legal fees and potentially lifelong financial commitments of a divorce.

    There is another reason I’ve resisted contemplating the economic disadvantages of living alone. Women are already conditioned to perceive the unpartnered life as one of lack or absence, if not downright misery. Challenging that Bridget Jones default can be hard work and a poor-me mindset doesn’t help. As someone who always pictured herself married, I have learned the hard way not to fixate on the negatives of singlehood.

    Today’s climate of uncertainty, inequality and inflation is making the issue impossible to ignore. Much as I’ve loved Apple TV+’s Bad Sisters, I can’t watch Sharon Horgan’s Eva living alone in an enormous family home without wondering how she affords to heat it. Seeing last week’s figures in stone cold print has finally shaken me out of my state of denial. An extra 10 grand a year? The comparative financial benefits of singledom and coupledom aren’t swings and roundabouts at all, they’re snakes and ladders.

    More noteworthy than the vast disparity itself, one that the majority of single people have long intuited, is how we respond to it. Whatever sympathy the news may elicit for ourselves or our single friends is soon followed by a sense of impotence or even outright ambivalence. This isn’t the kind of inequality we feel compelled to challenge or change. Maybe it’s because we see singleness as a temporary status. Or maybe because we can’t shift the suspicion that a solo life is a self-indulgent one.

    In the 18th century, social commentators in Britain argued for a tax on bachelors and spinsters, who were considered to contribute nothing concrete to the productivity of the nation. Frances Brooke, writing a series of articles as “Mary Singleton”, proposed that unmarried men over the age of 30 pay a shilling in the pound and unmarried women sixpence. “The very circumstance of having no burden upon their fortunes, but what merely concerns themselves, makes them of all others, the fittest to be assessed extraordinarily,” she wrote, adding that she would herself pay such a due “with the greatest pleasure”.

    Living alone is a privilege, but it can also be a burden. In her brilliant book about spinsterhood, She I Dare Not Name, Donna Ward argues that “the crucial conversation to have is about the reality of this life – the social, psychological and financial implications of it and the way legislators, friends, family and neighbours can support those living it”. Most single people are living on one income in a dual-income economy – and one whose lawmakers make the fallacious assumption that they have more disposable income than their coupled counterparts.

    The American social psychologist Bella DePaulo has long campaigned for more awareness of the way that society invisibly discriminates against those without partners – expecting more of them in the workplace, for instance, then robbing them through a tax system that prioritises married and family units. Maybe it is time to make a fuss about that single supplement.

    Emma John is a freelance author and writer. Her book Self Contained: Scenes from a Single Life is published by Octopus

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