I have some fantastic news – I’ve bought a desk! It’s not just any desk though, it’s an Edwardian desk, dating from somewhere between 1901 and 1910, and sold by a company in London called William Whiteley Ltd, founded in 1863. According to Wikipedia, “in 1887 the [W.Whiteley Department] store was described as ‘an immense symposium of the arts and industries of the nation and of the world’”, which sounds like the exact type of place I’d like to buy a desk from. It’s made from oak, with an “oxblood red leatherette top” (which is unfortunately not original – awfully povvo, I know), and it has nine drawers, which is a big enough number to satisfy my ego. The desk is slightly damaged, as you might expect for an object that’s roughly 120 years old, and it has been subject to a woodworm attack, but neither of these things take away a single ounce of its beauty. If it’s possible to love inanimate objects, I love this desk, and I plan to keep it forever. I shall enclose a picture below so you too can marvel at its glory. 

All I need now is a suitable chair. 

I’ve been thinking about work and my career a lot recently – more specifically, I’ve been thinking about whether it is really possible to truly find a job you enjoy. No, perhaps even further than that, since I do sometimes enjoy my job, I’ve been wondering whether it’s possible to find a job where, whilst you’re doing it, there is nothing else you’d rather be doing. My job is fine and I by no means resent it, but there are a plethora of other things I’d rather be doing, such as reading, writing, walking, playing golf, cooking, drinking wine, playing Monopoly and so on. Assuming it’s not possible to find a job doing something you are truly passionate about, which I think is the case for most of us with white-collar jobs, how do you reconcile yourself to the fact that this is what you’ll be doing for 35-40 hours a week for the next forty, maybe even fifty, years? It’s a question that has been vexing me for a while, so I thought I’d pass it on to you. Please do let me know if you come up with a solution, other than winning the lottery – we’ve all already thought of that one. 

I recently read At The Existentialist Café by Sarah Bakewell, a sort of biographical history that follows the lives of the main philosophers behind the rise of existentialism in the mid-20th century, such as Martin Heidegger, Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre. If nothing else, it made me long to be back in Paris, sitting outside of a café smoking cigarettes and drinking espressos, but more than that, it made me think about how fine the line between existentialism and nihilism really is. If you accept, as both schools of thought do, that life is inherently meaningless, does that give you the freedom to go and live as full and satisfying a life as you possibly can, or does it render anything you do pointless to the point where you might as well not do anything at all? I think for much of my life I have been firmly in the latter camp, but over the past few years or so, I’ve unwittingly moved into the former camp, and I have to say it’s much more fun. Having also read Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky not too long ago, I think my worldview is closer to the existentialists than it has ever been, which is something I hope to consider and develop further over the coming months. Something for you to consider perhaps, but from my perspective, I’ll take Sartre over Nietzsche any day. 

I’ve been reading the news a lot more regularly recently too, although I’m not sure it’s a particularly wise course of action. I went through a period where I actively avoided it, such is the negativity and hopelessness most news stories seem to imbue these days, but I find it hard to balance that position with what feels like a duty or obligation of sorts to be aware of what is going on in the world. I think this perhaps stems from the logic that we are, regardless of current difficulties, among the most privileged people in the world, and it seems disingenuous somehow to take advantage of that privilege to ignore the plight of those less fortunate than ourselves, or even the politics of our nation itself, be they in such a disorderly state. Journalism does seem to be a relentless stream of negativity these days, but that doesn’t mean we should avoid it, and it also doesn’t mean that we should forget or ignore the many positives that we’re still blessed with. 

I realise that this piece has probably been a bit heavier than I intended, so to wrap it up, I’ve decided I’m finally going to try and tackle The Republic by Plato, arguably the most influential philosophical book ever written, yet one I’ve never been able to properly understand. Nonetheless, with my new desk in place for note-taking and analysis, I feel more confident than ever that I can finally get through it, although between you and me, you can rest assured that my irreverent and prattling philosophising will likely remain just that.