The Weekly Slice, 01

🍍 This Week in The Pineapple — 20–24 October 2025

This week at The Pineapple, the stories travel — from a French village tangled in bureaucracy to the wide skies of Kruger, from the scent of barbecue smoke in northern Germany to a philosophy of language that turns a preposition into a revolution. Each article, in its own way, asks: how do we live better, notice more, and stay human in a world that too easily forgets?

The Silent Art of Service — by The Mayor (20 Oct 2025)
It begins with something as mundane as paperwork: a car document, a certificate of conformity. Yet in The Silent Art of Service, the Mayor turns this errand into a meditation on manners and the vanishing grace of human care. Between the silence of a French website and the warm competence of a German clerk, he finds something we’re all missing — presence. The piece isn’t about cars at all; it’s about civilisation, about how the smallest acts of respect restore dignity to modern life. “In a world where indifference has become normal,” he writes, “good manners are an act of rebellion.” Read it, and you’ll start to see customer service — and your own interactions — in a new light.

From manners to meaning — the thread continues. Because what The Mayor observes in service, he later unpacks in language: the subtle ways in which how we relate to each other, and even to words themselves, shapes the way we live.

The Power of a Preposition — by The Mayor (21 Oct 2025)
Next comes a deceptively simple word: in. In The Power of a Preposition, The Mayor explores Brida’s quietly radical idea — that you don’t learn English, you learn in English. This is not just grammar; it’s a philosophy of transformation. Brida, he explains, is less a classroom and more a “community of growth disguised as a language space.” Learning in a language means living through it, thinking and feeling within it, until the language becomes part of who you are. It’s a small linguistic shift with a vast human consequence — the kind of article that makes you rethink how you learn anything at all.

And after exploring the language of learning, we move to the language of taste — another kind of fluency altogether.

Smoke, Salt, and Sweet-Sour North — by Ralf the Grillmeister (22 Oct 2025)
Then, a sensory explosion. In Ralf’s Week in Food, the Grillmeister himself invites us to his backyard in northern Germany, where the fire drum glows and cousins gather. Seven courses unfold like a symphony — prawns, mushrooms, flank steak roulade, ribs, sausages, and finally, beef rib fingers kissed by flame. But this isn’t just about recipes. It’s about memory, patience, and love disguised as technique. Ralf’s calm attention to timing and texture becomes a metaphor for life itself. Each “takeaway” offers not just a cooking tip but a philosophy: start with something fast and bright; end with firelight and gratitude.

And when the fire cools and the plates are cleared, the warmth remains — the kind of warmth that comes from knowing that just by existing, by sharing, we make things better.

Better — by Janita Le Grange (23 Oct 2025)
Janita Le Grange brings the week a burst of joy with Better, a lighthearted yet luminous reminder that existence itself is enough reason to shine. “Somewhere out there, a potato just sighed in relief because you exist,” she writes — a line so playfully sincere it sticks in your mind all day. Her message is simple: you are the confetti in someone else’s Tuesday, the Wi-Fi signal that lifts another soul. It’s the kind of piece that makes you smile halfway through reading, then text a friend just to say hi.

And from that reminder of inner brightness, we turn to two friends exploring how happiness actually moves — through conversation, anticipation, and care.

How Happiness Travels — by Martin Buese (23 Oct 2025)
In How Happiness Travels, Martin Buese joins the Mayor for a conversation that drifts from office coffee to Garbage concerts, from daily rituals to the physics of joy. The insight? Happiness isn’t a grand finale — it’s a current that flows through anticipation, kindness, and attention. Their dialogue becomes a map for everyday joy: micro-joys (a friend’s visit), rituals (a mocha pot, a French press), anticipation (a ticket booked), and kindness (thanking the helper who made your day). “Maybe,” Martin muses, “we’ve learned the wrong definition of efficiency — not saving seconds, but transferring a steady mood across a day.” It’s the kind of reflection that lingers long after reading.

From the philosophy of joy in motion, we travel to where happiness lives in stillness — in landscapes so vast they hold your breath, and your heart, all at once.

Leaving a Piece of Your Heart in Kruger — by Janita Le Grange (24 Oct 2025)
From Europe to Africa, Janita takes us on a soulful journey through Kruger National Park — a story of silence, stillness, and the art of noticing. Leaving a Piece of Your Heart in Kruger isn’t just travel writing; it’s spiritual geography. Between campfires and morning drives, between laughter and vigilance, she rediscovers how to see. “The silence isn’t empty,” she says. “It’s full of life.” Frank, ever the co-host philosopher, sums it up perfectly: “We come back with heavy hearts, but lighter souls.” Read it when you need to remember what wonder feels like.

And when the journey ends, we return home — not to routine, but to ritual; to the quiet, shared spaces where meaning grows again among friends.

The Small Things That Keep Us Alive — by The Mayor (24 Oct 2025)
And finally, the week ends with laughter across time zones. In The Small Things That Keep Us Alive, Janita, Frank, Monica, and Rosii gather for another Lunch with Janita & Frank — four screens, three continents, one conversation about joy. From snakes in Australia to nail polish in South Africa, from generosity in Brazil to fig trees in France, the talk is a patchwork of small joys stitched across distance. “Joy doesn’t need a reason,” Janita concludes. “Sometimes it’s as small as a painted fingertip — or the sound of laughter spilling through three time zones.” A fitting finale to a week devoted to the everyday extraordinary.

This Week’s Takeaway
If there’s a thread running through these pieces, it’s this: the world still rewards attention. Service, language, food, friendship, memory — each becomes sacred when seen closely. So slow down this weekend. Make coffee with care. Write that thank-you note. Or better yet, open The Pineapple, and spend a little time in the company of people who notice.