Try out simple exercises using daily activities like breathing and walking. Explore your senses by listening, looking and smelling the world around you. The slow down sessions will last for about 30 minutes, and are free of charge.

The following gardens will be taking part:

Arundel and Ladbroke Gardens
Charlton Manor Primary School
Fenton House and Garden
Hereford Square Garden
Lincolns Inn Gardens
Rosmead Garden
St Joseph’s Hospice Garden
Winterton House Organic Garden

Come and smell the roses with us on Slow Sunday 10 June.

Image by Ian Mansfield.

From there on in, it all gets horribly competitive. Speed is of the essence when it comes to baby milestones- walking/potty training/doing long division. Praise and jealous admiration is lavished on the early achiever, even if there’s little evidence that in the long run it makes a blind bit of difference (Einstein didn’t speak till he was 3). And then there’s the schoolsrace (like the arms race, only scarier). In London, it’s so dog-eat-dog getting a place somewhere that isn’t languishing at the nether regions of the Ofsted tables, 74.3 miles (as the crow flies)from your house, that you should probably be screening potential fathers of your children on their basis of their postcode, not their looks or earning potential. (Though it has to be said, discussing catchment areas on your first date is a bit of a passion killer).

So we could all benefit from some slow parenting techniques. Here are some things I’d personally like to see adopted on a wider level:

The banning of the term ‘playdate’

In the old days, ‘playdate’ just meant hanging out with a friend who also happened to have a child a similarish age to yours. Giving it this label projects all kinds of adult neurosis about social success onto two-year-olds. If you are not going on enough playdates, then both you and your child are social networking failures, already woefully behind in the popularity contest that is life (just wait till they get on Twitter). It’s also symptomatic of the manic need to structure and assign meaning to every single activity, even something as simple as having a cuppa at your mate’s house while your kid smacks their kid over the head repeatedly with a piece of Lego. Playdates are just another entry on the middle class wall planner, in between viola lessons, swimming, tae kwon do, ballet and Mandarin. Which brings me to my nextpoint…

Restrict the activities

The term ‘middle-class neglect’ has popped up in recent years for a reason. It describes parents’ mania for signing up offspring to classes, after-school clubs, weekend activities, summer schools, music lessons and so on. So they hardly actually spend any time alone with their own genetic blueprints forthe future.

Mothers that don’t coach their children into becoming precociously accomplished Mini-Boden-wearingknow-it-alls by the age of five feel like they are somehow failing.

Now obviously having your parents encourage you to try new activities and have interests is definitely a good thing (mine never did anything with me, apart from occasionally dragging me to a bleakly windswept concrete playground).

And being myself one of those harassed working London mums with no family to help out and a husband working long hours, I can relate exactly to how parents rely on after-schoolclubs and childminders and nurseries just to be able to have a half-normal existence. Without them there’d be a lot more of us sitting at home necking gin and popping pills.

But from the moment your child is born, there is a vague unsettling pressure to sign up for stuff. It starts fairly innocently with baby massage and baby signing, but rapidly moves onto the hard stuff: messy play, ‘sensory’ baby experiences,toddler gym, football school, drama classes, ballet, music. Allhorribly expensive, and probably not necessary at the tender age of two.

There are days when I’ve felt rising panic about my lack of signing up to any or all of the above. Is myson already doomed to failure? (He is three.) Have I already scuppered his chances of becoming a famous artist because I didn’t sign him up for Sticky Fingers? Will he never be a ballerina?

Recently I had a few of those rare ashen’s teeth days where I’ve had nothing much in the diary, except aday looking after my son. My instinct at first was to see a friend, find a new playgroup to try out, go find a fun-but-edifying museum, at the very least shuffle round the supermarket looking for good bogofs.

But what my son really, really wants at the moment isn’t a full diary of activities to develop his well-rounded personality and overall skill-set (or even get discounted groceries). He has 15 years before he has to write his CV. What he wants is attention from me when I am around, whether that’s baking together, reading together or playing together. Yes, whole weeks of it at a time could quickly send me over the edge, but I can manage a few hours here and there. I don’t want to get all sick bag on you, but to spend some proper one-on-one time with your preschool child truly is a magical thing. And once it’s gone it’s gone forever.

by Cheryl Freedman

Image by Jim (jaytay)

It’s a free festival with an exciting line-up that includes Jason White from the BBC Great British Bake-off serving up a Big Slow Food Breakfast and judging a Family Bake-off, live music all day long, theatre performances from the fabulously entertaining Honey Theatre in their ‘giant hive’, Jamaican food storytelling, pheasant plucking, delicious food stalls, pop-up restaurants, and much more!

Beamish & McGlue presents The West Norwood Slow Food Festival, a celebration of the very best food traditions, from our very own corner of South London to the great British countryside. The community of West Norwood is teeming with producers, allotments, cooks, bakers, picklers, coffee roasters, chocolatiers … and our Festival aims to bring the excitement of this cornucopia of food to Londoners on one fabulous, fun-filled Saturday in March (31st, save the date). Expect great things!

We will have top chefs on hand to demonstrate their versions of Slow Food, unmasking the myth that it takes gobs of time and exotic ingredients to make good, clean, delicious food. We are busy lining up activities for the entire family, in a celebration of all things gastronomic in this pocket of South London.

Antonia Beamish and Sarah Coursey, festival organisers, are thankful to the Mayor of London’s Outer London Fund for funding the project, to Lambeth Council, Slow Food London and Beamish & McGlue for their undying support, and the entire community of West Norwood for pitching in to make what is sure to be an epic event for food-lovers.

Visit www.westnorwoodslowfoodfestival.co.uk:

Further information: Beamish & McGlue, 461 Norwood Rd, London SE27 9DQ, Tel: 0208.761.8099.
Twitter: @WNslowfoodfest/
Contact: Antonia Beamish, antonia@westnorwoodslowfoodfestival.co.uk, Mobile: 07792.801.733. Sarah Coursey, sarah@westnorwoodslowfoodfestival.co.uk, Mobile: 07414.971.758

By Sarah Coursey

It’s hard to believe that we are already into the third week of 2012. Our year is slowly taking shape. We are using the winter months to think, plan and create practical ways to bring the slow philosophy to this speedy city.  There’s a sense of uncertainty about how one can survive, let alone thrive, during this time of upheaval; but also a very clear sense that things have to change.

A new book called Slow Finance, which asks if the financial sector is out of scale with the real economy, has inspired our thinking. Written by the award-winning fund manager Gervais Williams, the book outlines how the excessive scale of the financial sector is reliant on globalisation and the expansion of credit.

“Just as the Slow Food movement represents a reaction to the food industry losing sight of its ultimate purpose, Slow Finance explores how parallel trends will soon appear in the investment world.” Bloomsbury Publishing

It’s a thought provoking but accessible read, especially if you don’t know anything about Finance. We met with Gervais at the beginning of the month and he has given us two copies of the book to give away so please email us at slowdown@slowdownlondon.co.uk by 31st January and we will send the books to first two names out of the hat. 

For those of you that have too many books to read you might want to attend a talk that Gervais is doing on 9th February or you can just download an app to help with your investments and savings! 

Slow Down London was created to bring the intellectual ideas behind the Slow Philosophy together with practical ways to implement these ideas in our every day life, so I am very pleased to announce that Tessa Watt, Co-Director at Slow Down London has a new book out on Mindfulness. I found myself reading it from cover to cover on the train last week and was once again reminded of the simple things we can do to help us appreciate life.

It is full of straightforward advice, case studies and step-by-step instructions that are easy to follow. The ones that caught my attention are the exercises on how to become mindful of our bodies. I have been doing the “feeling your fingers” exercise every morning, which doesn’t take long but which has really helped me to become more aware of what I am feeling which in turn has led to me being fully present to this moment.

As to our plans, The Slow Down London team is looking forward to the global Slow Living Day an annual event that started in Italy and which will be coming to London this year on Monday 26th March. We will be doing another slow club in the spring – and of course it will be hard to avoid the Olympics if you live in London, and we feel that the slow philosophy will be much needed in the crazy summer months, so we are cooking up some plans around this as well. We will be sending more information in the coming months and hope to see you at our events.

Finally, Slow Down London has a wonderful pool of volunteers who help us with our events, PR, administration, fundraising and other things. If you would have some spare time and would like to come and volunteer with us please email slowdown@slowdownlondon.co.uk

Here’s to all of us finding the tempo gusto (the right speed) for our lives in 2012.

Deepa Patel

Co-director, Slow Down London

Image by Simon Bisson

Look up at the Sky has taken Gemma from Hampton Court towards the Thames Barrier with the intention of exploring the peace and the pauses around London.

Gemma says: ‘Each walk is an informal stroll and everyone is encouraged to take in the journey at their own pace – with a notebook, a camera, a paintbrush, a basket to fill with flowers, or maybe just a map. We’re a small group of poets, writers, photographers and artists and others who have felt inspired to join.’

For more information visit www.lookupatthesky.co.uk, where you can contact Gemma directly.

Image by Mathew Hanratty

All the walks are at an easy pace and are suitable for people who are just starting out in walking, and as well as those who just want to slow down and enjoy what is good about our varied city.

The walks are led by experienced volunteers, and all ages walk with them. The London Strollers have a Saturday Stroll every week and organise weekday strolls too. Examples of recent walks include a Wimbledon circular, a city of London tour, a stroll around Brixton. as well as the popular Wednesday evening waterway walks along canals and the Thames. The London Strollers are looking to increase their membership and expand the number of walks they offer every week.

The London Strollers are part of the national Ramblers, who campaign to protect footpaths in the UK. The London Strollers would welcome fellow Slow Down Londoners on their walks. If you would like to join them please see their website at www.londonstrollers.org.uk where you can see details of their next few walks and how to join.

If you want more information please e-mail londonstrollers@gmail.com to join their mailing list.

Alex Mannings

A friend of mine warned me recently of the dangers of spending all day staring at a computer screen; apparently the muscles of the eye involved in switching between distance and close-up vision become weak and lazy after a long period of inactivity.

He suggested I do exercises every now and again – looking out of the window at something far away, and then back into the office around me. Ha, I do plenty of this anyway, I thought. But how much of my distant gazing was actually zoning out rather than focusing in, I wondered?

So I tried it, and I discovered something so painfully obvious, that it made me write this article. The world is 3-dimensional. It is infinitely deep. And the eye is the speediest tool we have – one moment I’m at the end of my nose, the next I’m a mile away on a rooftop. And in between, the space – for the first time giving this attention to my focus I am aware of the space between as an area in itself – magical and full of potential.

I am revelling in my sense of sight. Seeing us fun and surprising. How did I forget about this?

One possibility is the mind’s view that “I’ve seen it before so I don’t need to look.” Oh, a tree. Big deal. Grey sky. Yawn. Wish it was blue. Wish I was looking out over a vineyard in Sicily….Which is one reason why travelling appears so enlightening to us. Suddenly all our senses are forced to wake up and it feels good. But walking down Balham High Road this evening it didn’t seem like I had seen it all before. Have you ever had that startling experience of walking into your living room and seeing an object that’s been there for years, as if for the first time?

Another explanation might be the dominance of screens in our culture, work and entertainment. Watching sports is more often done on the TV where the work of picking out what to watch is done for us. But is some of the joy taken out of it too? Is there another game in simply allowing the eye to roam around and chase whatever takes its fancy?

I realise that on a deeper level the backdrop (or rather frontdrop as my eyes tend to look forward) of my life appears more often to me like a picture than a sculpture – moving, yes, but not so shapely as it turns out to be. Even a film is flat; 3D provides an illusion of depth but we know this to be false; we are intelligent animals. Somewhere inside us a disappointing bargain is being struck: the age of convenience denies us our sensual workout, and the reward is a comfortable blindness.

Annalie Wilson

www.annalie.co.uk

On the art of making a latte last two hours…

There are few things I like better in life than the indulgence of very slowly sipping a cappuccino in a coffee shop, and watching the world go by…While some people like to go bungee jumping or water skiing on their holidays, my idea of bliss generally revolves around sitting in a leafy European square somewhere with a cup of something hot and frothy, a cake and a good novel.

I’ve never been to Vienna, but I’ve often fantasised about the quality of the coffee houses, the precise flakiness of the strudel. It’s no surprise that Paris is one of my favourite cities, a place where the café culture (rightly) dictates that chairs face outwards to encourage blatant people watching.

London is getting better and better at doing decent coffee, but it’s still not quite as good at providing the places that allow you to really linger (perhaps it’s to do with our distinct lack of squares and leafy boulevards). There’s a fine art to making a tall latte and a cinnamon bun last two hours (still a rare affordable luxury, even in a recession). But in many establishments before you know it, an over-eager waitress will have whisked your tepid, half-drunk coffee away.

Chains, and their special brand of faceless anonymity – same furniture, same wall colour, same cake selection, same piped music and pictures – are sometimes better at allowing you stay as long as you want. But that’s mainly because the staff just don’t care. Better by far to choose a local independent café, to support someone’s family business, and become a familiar, welcome face. They won’t mind if you’re the kind of customer who spends two hours consuming one Americano and an apricot Danish, because they know you will be back tomorrow, and that you not only know their wifi password off by heart, you’ve also only got two stamps to go on your loyalty card before you get a free mochaccino.

Of course, some people wonder why a cup of coffee costs over £2, and feel that they are somehow being ripped off. ‘But I can make a cup of coffee at home for virtually nothing,’ they protest. That’s missing the point entirely. When you go to a café alone, you are not just paying £2 for the cup of coffee. You are paying to have a few moments of peace in a busy day, to have a space to ponder and be alone with your thoughts. You are paying to escape the familiar grottiness of your own home or workplace. If you like, you are effectively renting a table on a very short-term lease in a calm place where tasks and errands and unpaid bills and dirty dishes aren’t calling you. (How many novels and great ideas have started in coffee shops? How many writers still sit hunched over their netbooks, waiting for inspiration?) You are paying for the overheads of the shop, the rent, the staff, the lighting, as well as the coffee grounds. All that for £2 suddenly seems like a bargain.

So where are the best slow coffee spots in London? My favourites change from month to month, year to year. In central London, I have a perennial soft spot for the café at the top of Foyles, mainly for the free wifi, the jazz soundtrack and the eclectic mix of ‘starving-in-a-garret’-type individuals who appear to be writing screenplays on Mac books, while spinning out a cold espresso and a glass of tap water.

Out east, Counter Café, is a not-so-hidden urban secret – an Aussie-inspired joint tucked in a corner of Hackney Wick, with battered chairs and brick walls, that does seriously good flat whites and food. There are other cafés I love even more for the aesthetics, the buzzy atmosphere, the delicious cakes. But you can’t necessarily hang around in them, or guarantee you won’t be hurried along. And that is the key to slow coffee happiness.

Cheryl Freedman

One of our Slow Club online participants reflects on the process:

The task for week one was to notice my speed.  I can’t say I honestly managed to do this daily, however I did make a concerted effort to reflect on my speed and to be appropriate in the time I took to do tasks.  One of the things I noticed was that I think and feel calm when in motion under my own steam.  So when I was on my bike or walking I felt very much at the appropriate pace to my activity.  However when I attempted to walk slowly I found myself speeding up to my normal pace – as if my feet had a mind of their own!  During my quick-slow-quick-slow walk I did make sure to look up and around me more as I walked, and thoroughly enjoyed this connection with my urban environment.

Week two asked me to ‘switch off’ some technology for an hour a day.  Hmm, I thought dubiously, what if someone calls, texts, tweets, emails or facebooks me – I won’t be able to answer straight away, panic!  Then I thought about the time before mobile phones, before constant social connections existed – I managed to live without tweets and texts then; maybe it was time to give it a go again…

I kept my weekend technology to a minimum, then from Monday I put my phone away during work hours.   I left it in my locker at work – only checking it at lunch and after work.  Usually I would have it in my pocket to check my emails frequently, and answer any calls and texts as soon as I received them.  I actually felt better able to concentrate on my work with out my phone ‘nagging’ me from my pocket.  This week I was working in a creative workshop, so I was completely isolated from technology in that sense, and… I totally enjoyed it!

The weekly task was to take a lunch break, something that I nearly always do already.  My job is, for the most part, manual so I find having a lunch break is an important part of my day – the opportunity to sit down and rest is vital to my ability to work.  This week however I took a walk on one of my lunches to the canal and had a little sit down there, watching the water. I also made sure to go outside for a part of my breaks on the other days, just for a spot of reflection and daylight.  I found it very relaxing to step away from the noise and conversation of the lunchroom, it gave me a pleasant energetic feeling when I came back that I don’t usually have after lunch.

Week three’s task is to watch my breath and eat mindfully, both outside of my normal habits.  I breath (as most of us do) without thinking, and my meals tend to be social – catching up with my partner, chatting to colleagues etc – so I will have to think strongly about my actions for this task.  I will blog about it next week, fingers crossed I manage to do it!

Bridget Harvey

http://www.bridgetharvey.co.uk

With limited reserves of energy and time at my disposal, I can never truly keep up with the Zeitgeist anyway. So I have decided, instead, that I will become a slow music listener. My rules are simple:

I will listen to albums from start to finish. One of the things I really miss as an adult is the joy of truly losing myself in music, for hours on end. I remember lying on my bed and studiously listening to every track on OK Computer, familiarising myself with each individual guitar part and bassline. I was once able to recite track-listings on albums backwards. I’d pore over lyric sheets and sleeve notes and obscure dedications and gatefold artwork. Then gradually one-on-time with music took a back seat to jobs, kids, aimlessly surfing the internet… And, meanwhile, the shuffle button slowly killed the album as artistic statement. But I refuse to be the cultural philistine who only downloads the singles. So I am going to put on records, be they by PJ Harvey or Tinie Tempah, and listen to every single track with no distractions. No Twitter feed, no Facebook updates, no rubbishy property show in the background. Just me, my headphones, my duvet, possibly a cup of tea and a packet of HobNobs. Bliss.

I will listen to music that I already own. My shelves at home are lined with thousands of CDs from the last 20 years. Most just sit there, slowly acquiring a film of dust. Yet are The Vaccines or any of the other bands du jour really better than the gazillions of forgotten records I already own, but can’t quite bear to throw out? Of course they are not. So I am going to resist the cult of the new, and the clarion call of this week’s supposed talent (James Blake, Nicki Minaj et al). Instead, I will journey to the centre of my CD rack. As well as the Bob Dylans or Beach Boys, the Elbows and Eels, I will revisit the recently unexplored nether regions, the much-loved World Party or The The or Talk Talk records, even if they are hideously unfashionable and everyone else has forgotten who they even are. I may be some time.

I am going to listen to songs I love over and over again. Just because I can, and without shame. (Current random favourites include Yeasayer’s ‘O.N.E’, Caribou’s ‘Odessa’, LCD Soundsystem’s ‘You Wanted A Hit’, Nick Cave’s ‘Albert Goes West’, and Nick Drake’s ‘Joey’.) Music is all about transporting yourself to a better place. In its best moments it’s a form of pure meditation and escapism. If you love it, listen to it and nourish your inner self. Even if ‘it’ (and I don’t say this lightly) is the Glee soundtrack.

I am going to listen to ‘slow’ music. Quite literally. In a fast-paced city, on a packed out Central Line train, it’s sometimes all that keeps my sanity intact. Folk is generally good (though I draw the line at Mumford & Sons). At the moment, during rush hour, I’m working my way through the Fairport Convention and Richard and Linda Thompson back catalogue. Very, very slowly. And, yes, in weaker moments I have been known to put on Classic FM.

Do you have a slow music rule you adhere to? Please let us know here.

Cheryl Freedman