The Village, the Machine, and What We Still Call a Life

Our Lives at Human Scale (and Other Dangerous Ideas)

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It’s foggy, rainy, and cold today, and some of the vendors at the village farmers’ market have opted not to take up their usual stalls, which suggests it must be grim out there. It’s been balmy for the past few weeks, so this sudden chill comes as a bit of a shock, though it is the middle of November, so it’s to be expected. Still, days like this are the perfect excuse to get cosy, light a few candles, pull on warm knits, and write to you.

Sunday we’ll take the train, just for a few days, meetings to attend and those things still waiting in storage, that other life boxed up, and we’ve booked a hotel, we’ll walk the old streets, eat in those places we loved. I find myself wistful today – the year ending again, already, always – though perhaps it’s only the weather, this very Wuthering Heights weather, working on me.

This week’s letter is the sixth instalment of Notes Between Us – a space where we share what's been capturing our attention lately: cultural moments and ideas, fleeting observations, reflections, and things worth pausing for. Our personal marginalia – the notes we'd scribble in the margins of our shared life.

This edition (free for all subscribers) includes a dive into the strange new logics of AI and meaning-making online; the rise of “village-scale living” and why small towns are quietly outpacing big cities; a Speyside hotel steeped in whisky lore and Highland quiet, and a set of blistering cultural essays – from digital feudalism to the beauty-industrial complex’s spiritual trap.

A gathering of the meaningful and the momentary – small moments of thought, art, and life to carry with you into the weekend.

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MEDIA CONSUMPTION /intelligence, meaning & the struggle to stay human

A journey through intelligence, culture, and meaning in the digital age – from AI and online ideologies to hobbies and human connection – showing how we navigate systems while seeking understanding and belonging.

1. The Case That A.I. Is Thinking – The New Yorker

Large language models blur the line between imitation and thought, forcing a rethink of what intelligence means, and what remains uniquely human.

2. Here’s How the AI Crash Happens – The Atlantic

Beneath the hype, an AI-fueled economy strains under speculation and energy demands, hinting at a coming reckoning.

3. Can TikTok Brainrot Make You a Marxist? – Pitchfork

A surreal trend of communist “brainrot” on TikTok reveals how young creators remix ideology and humour to find meaning and community online.

4. Do We Need Hobbies? – The New Yorker

When leisure becomes labour, true hobbies – acts of joy without purpose – become rebellion.

5. I’ve Gone to Look for America – The Atavist Magazine

A mother and son drive north through a fractured nation, rediscovering connection and kindness on the open road.

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TRAVEL /essentials

01 - Compression Packing Cubes - Navy Blue // 02 - Natural Medium Canvas Tote // 03 - Polo Ralph Lauren Logo-Embroidered Baseball Cap - Relay Blue, Wicket Yellow // 04 - The Overachiever Brightening & Depuffing Eye Masks // 05 - New Balance 574 Unisex Sneakers // 06 - Personalised Travel Cosmetic Toiletry Bag

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Tetbury /via Inigo

The Great Inversion: Why the Grass Really Is Greener (And There’s More of It)

There’s something I’ve noticed after having lived in Vancouver, Toronto, Edinburgh, Glasgow, London, and half a dozen other cities: I always end up confining myself to about half a square mile. My coffee shop, my grocery store, the pub, maybe a restaurant or two. I tell myself I’m living in this vast, dynamic metropolis, but really I’m inhabiting a village-sized patch of it.

And here’s the irony: the most coveted neighbourhoods in any city are the ones that actually function like villages. You know the type – a butcher, a baker, perhaps not a candlestick maker, but certainly an independent bookshop. Places like Hampstead in London or the West Village in New York command premium prices precisely because they feel like self-contained communities that happen to be in a city.

Pinterest

So why not live in an actual village?

There’s an image that’s stuck with me from my London years: a runner doing his morning workout on London Bridge during rush hour, weaving between commuters. He wasn’t just exercising – he was performing exercise. Would he do it if nobody were watching? Increasingly, cities have become stages on which we perform our lives rather than live them. The Instagram-worthy brunch. The desirable postcode. Even leisure is curated for display. Everything is monetised: want to see friends? That’s £50 in a bar. Seeking community? Join a gym or a co-working space. You’re not living; you’re consuming a lifestyle package.

In Future Shock (1970), Alvin Toffler predicted that technology would one day allow people to abandon cities for smaller towns. For decades it seemed fanciful. Then came Covid, and millions discovered that remote work genuinely worked. Toffler wasn’t wrong – merely half a century early.

Here lies the paradox: the qualities we once associated with cities – creativity, energy, distinctiveness – are now flourishing in small towns and villages, while megacities have become increasingly homogenised. Stroll through market towns across Britain and you’ll find natural wine bars rivalling anything in Hackney, excellent coffee, and proper sandwich shops. These aren’t provincial imitations; they’re often better because the because the economics make sense. Opening a café in London demands rent north of £50,000, punitive business rates and crushing competition. In a market town? A fraction of the cost, with space to experiment and community support to sustain it.

The inversion is complete. Cities were meant to offer singular experiences; now they’re defined by repetition and chain stores. Meanwhile, the villages and towns once dismissed as peripheral are becoming centres of genuine creativity.

I’ve done the grass-is-greener thing for years, in cities yearning for the countryside, in small towns missing the city’s energy. But with reliable broadband and fast trains, it’s now possible to have both. The sweet spot is 30 to 60 minutes from a regional city – close enough for airports, culture and the occasional meeting – but without the daily costs and compromises. No brutal commute, no extortionate rent, and access to genuine countryside rather than an engineered “ecological corridor”.

It’s not just a personal preference, but a genuine shift. People are leaving London for Manchester, Bristol, Glasgow, and crucially, for the satellite towns around them. There’s the wine bar owner who left London’s restaurant scene. The designer freelancing for London agencies from a Yorkshire mill town. The developer commuting to Manchester twice a week. These aren’t failures, but rational recalibrations. The old trade-offs simply no longer add up.

While Paris spends billions on its “Urban Forest Charter”, retrofitting nature with 200,000 trees (each requiring its own health record because the environment is so hostile), the British countryside just… exists. With real forests you can walk in. For free.

I think again of that runner on London Bridge, performing wellness amid chaos. And I think of the alternative: walking actual hills on a Tuesday afternoon, not because anyone’s watching, but simply because you can.

The grass really is greener in the countryside. And there’s definitely more of it. The future may not belong to the big cities after all, but to the small places finally getting their turn – connected enough to access everything, grounded enough to offer what cities have lost: the ability to live at human scale. ▪︎

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TRAVEL /the craigellachie

Tucked into the small Speyside village of Craigellachie, this 19th-century country house hotel overlooks the River Spey, with views stretching across the valley to the Thomas Telford Bridge and the surrounding Highlands. Built in 1893 to host Victorian travellers exploring the Scottish countryside, The Craigellachie Hotel of Speyside is the perfect base from which to discover one of Scotland’s most storied regions – nestled between the rivers Spey and Fiddich and within easy reach of the Cairngorms National Park.

The hotel’s 26 rooms are furnished in a style that favours comfort over ostentation. Cashmere-topped mattresses and Egyptian cotton sheets evoke a restrained sort of luxury, while five garden-level rooms open directly onto the grounds.

The food and drink offering draws deeply from its surroundings. The Spey Inn, said to stand on the site of Scotland’s oldest drovers’ inn, serves a menu of modern Scottish fare built around local produce – hearty game dishes, Speyside salmon, and home-cooked comfort rather than fussy tasting menus. A newer fine-dining venture, GEAMAIR by Pawel Sowa, offers a more ambitious take on regional cuisine, showcasing the best of the Highlands’ larder.

Then there is the Quaich Bar, a destination in its own right. Housing more than 900 single malts (with tasting sessions available) it has long been a pilgrimage point for whisky enthusiasts and is frequently cited among the world’s foremost whisky bars. Here, guests can sample drams from every corner of Scotland, and beyond, without ever leaving their armchairs.

Directly opposite the hotel lies the Craigellachie Salmon Fishing Beat, while many of Speyside’s most famous distilleries – including Macallan, Aberlour and Glenfiddich – are within a short drive. The surrounding countryside lends itself to long walks, and day trips to nearby Elgin, Inverness, or even Loch Ness.

Though Craigellachie sits within easy reach of the region’s larger towns, the hotel feels undeniably rural: the pace is slow, the air scented with pine and peat smoke, and the evenings are best spent watching the light fade over the valley with a glass of something amber in hand. For those seeking a polished yet unpretentious retreat in the heart of whisky country, The Craigellachie delivers an authentic taste of Speyside’s enduring charm.

Victoria Street, Craigellachie, Aberlour, AB38 9SR
T: +44 1340 881204
W: www.craigellachiehotel.co.uk

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01 - Levi’s® x Barbour Oversized Bedale Denim Jacket // 02 - Barbour x Levi’s 578™ Baggy Corduroy Trousers // 03 - Landscape Jacquard Alpaca Wool Sweater // 04 - Gun Club Countryman Cap; Rotano Eau de Parfum, 2 oz. 60 mL // 05 - Levi’s® X Barbour Type Ii Waxed Trucker Jacket // 06 - Engineered Garments X Saucony Shadow Original Wingtip

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MEDIA CONSUMPTION /health & wellness

The most likely AI apocalypse

A chilling, sharply reasoned meditation on what might happen if artificial intelligence fulfils its grandest, and darkest, promises. It traces how automation, once a force for shared prosperity, could soon upend the very foundations of democracy and equality by stripping human labour of its economic value. Through a blend of economic history, political theory, and dark humour, Levitz explores how societies might slide from the age of opportunity into a new kind of digital feudalism, and what choices we still have to stop it.

The Anti-Cosmetic Surgery Essay Every Woman Should Read

I know you’re used to hearing me talk about the beauty industrial complex and other feminist issues as they relate to how women’s worth is commodified, so it’s always refreshing to come across a piece that pushes the conversation further. This essay is a razor-sharp, darkly funny, and deeply sobering exploration of how the beauty industry has evolved into something resembling a spiritual and psychological trap.

Across ten sections, the author dissects the mechanisms of the beauty-industrial complex, from its roots in capitalist consumerism to its modern manifestation as a “Body Cult” that sells women both the disease and the cure. Drawing on feminist philosophers like Sandra Bartky and Simone de Beauvoir, she argues that cosmetic surgery and wellness culture have become tools of self-policing and self-alienation, keeping women docile, anxious, and endlessly consuming.

What makes the piece so compelling is its refusal to sugarcoat: it rejects “choice feminism” and the Nice Girl politeness that keeps critique in check, insisting that elective beautification isn’t liberation but a form of spiritual subjugation. Through biting humour and cultural analysis, this piece exposes the cruelty beneath the gloss, and calls for women to log off, rebel, and reclaim the “old flesh” as an act of defiance.

Those hot-girl self-help videos are making you worse
This essay dissects the rise of “hot-girl self-help” culture, a glossy world where empowerment is filtered through beauty, bioessentialism, and influencer aesthetics. It examines how these seemingly liberating videos quietly recycle old patriarchal ideals, turning feminism into performance and self-worth into branding. With wit and precision, it unpacks the seductive mix of parasocial intimacy, pretty privilege, and pseudo-spiritual jargon shaping a generation’s understanding of confidence and femininity, ultimately asking what real growth looks like beyond the algorithmic mirror.

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That’s all for now. Until next time…

P&R

instagram / pinterest / tig

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PARTING NOTE
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