A squirrel picnic
During the pandemic, my husband found some wood on our street and used it to build a tiny, squirrel-sized picnic table. We attached it to the side of our fence with a handful of peanuts on top. Few sights are guaranteed to lift my day more than watching a “dining in” Nutkin parking its rump on the tiny wooden seat, occasionally glancing towards the house as if he’s waiting for you to bring the drinks. If you don’t have as much time on your hands as my husband did during lockdown, you can buy one on Etsy.
Watching news bloopers
Maybe it’s the moment BBC reporter Gemma Dawson signs off the evening bulletin with an affectionate “good boy” instead of “good night”. Or the time Texas news anchor Cynthia Izaguirre trails the next item with these immortal words: “Right after the break, we’re going to interview Erik Weihenmayer, who climbed the highest mountain in the world, Mount Everest, but … he’s gay … I mean, excuse me, he’s blind.” It’s hard to pick a favourite, but watching reels of news bloopers is virtually guaranteed to have you in stitches in a matter of seconds, whatever the day’s thrown at you. There’s something about the total breakdown of strait-laced formality that feels particularly hilarious, like getting the giggles in school assembly. A tonic I’d recommend for everyone – with the possible exception of Jeremy Hunt.
A shared playlist
Like most people, I’m in more WhatsApp groups than I care to count. Staying on top of the flood of banal banter and mediocre memes can feel like a full-time job. But one set of messages I actively look forward to: my Add to Playlist group. Based on the BBC Radio 4 show of the same name, the concept is simple: each morning, someone adds a song to our shared Spotify playlist that in some way follows on from the previous day’s track. Then, they take to WhatsApp to explain the link. There are 20-odd people in the group and most of them I don’t know that well. Our musical tastes are diverse, and as a result in the past few months I have been exposed to dozens of songs by artists I’d never heard of. Some brilliant, some horrendous, but that’s not even really the point. The excitement of a new track appearing on the playlist, and the subsequent discussion on the group chat, is the highlight of my day.
Joining a choir
In 2012, I saw a poster in my village about a women’s choir, no necessity to be able to read music. I pitched up a little nervously on the first night – along with 41 others – and have been going every Thursday since. To start with, it was a fun, social evening with a number of people I knew and a lot I didn’t. However, when my partner became terminally ill, Thursday evenings became a lifeline for me, a chance for time for myself. I could chat to my singing friends if I wanted to, but mainly I could lose myself in the music. For a few pounds a week, I have an evening of fun, friendship and a good old vocal workout.
A regular run with friends
I had done Couch to 5k several times, but never seemed to keep it up. Once I made it to the end of the programme I invariably stopped and had to start again some months later. I am not a natural runner and needed something to keep me going, so I enlisted a few of my oldest friends to join me for our local Parkrun every Saturday. Over time, this little ritual has morphed into something else entirely, so that the running is almost a sideshow. These days, we run and talk, and retreat afterwards to someone’s house for fresh coffee and breakfast, and chat about the week that has passed. We have talked through illnesses, grief and work crises. One of our number was suddenly made redundant after 25 years. Several parents have passed away. The world seems to be in perpetual meltdown. But somehow this routine cheers me every week. I still don’t particularly like running, and plod around the circuit at my own snail’s pace, but doing this every Saturday at 9am never fails to lift my mood.
An adult swimming class
I took swimming classes as a child in Italy and hated them. I was also terrible. Last summer, I injured my achilles and had to take a break from running, so I decided to give swimming another go– and I love it. I go swimming on Wednesday evenings and look forward to it the whole week. It is fun, a good way to socialise with fellow adult learners and is fantastic for mental health. Somehow there is nothing as calming and satisfying as having your head underwater. And surprise, surprise, I don’t suck at it any more.
Taking my dog to visit people in hospital
The small actions that have brought me joy and continue to do so are the loving interactions with Scout, my beautiful, kind and gentle four-year-old golden retriever. Since she passed all the assessments to become a pet therapy dog, we visit a dementia care unit, a hospital and a rest home where she brings much joy – to those we visit and to me, too.
A random phone call with a pal
I’ll sometimes find myself staring down the barrel of a long Friday evening alone, too tired from a long week to make plans but also fearful of getting lost in my own anxious thoughts. I’ve found a useful solution: I pick up the phone. Phone etiquette can be fraught and messy – being called out of the blue can feel terrifying, making you panic about what awful news awaits. But I’ve established an understanding with a few friends: we’ll try calling each other randomly, and if the other person is free to chat, we just simply catch up about our lives. This feels much more spontaneous, warm and heartening than text messaging – typing on a screen reminds me too much of my day job, anyway – and diving into another person’s world helps break free from my own.
Karaoke with strangers
I was feeling exhausted and fed up after long school holidays juggling kids, work and life at 100mph, when someone I’ve met only a couple of times invited me to do karaoke with a bunch of local fellow tired mums. Everyone knew someone, but mostly we were strangers. After two hours of singing pop bangers together on a Sunday evening we all felt invigorated, buoyed up, bonded and determined to do it again. As one woman said: “It’s cheaper than therapy and five times as fun!”
Urban walking
Walking costs nothing, gets your heart pumping and muscles moving, and lifts your spirits in no time at all. I remember how calming a hike up the canal was after a day at work that had left me in tears. It doesn’t matter where you are or how beautiful (or not!) the scenery is – even on a daily commute, there are always new sights and sounds, different routes to try, things that catch your eye you never noticed before, stories to tell later. Add headphones and a good book or podcast, and what more could you want?
Becoming an IT helpdesk for a day
Whenever I get to see my nana at her house, 300 miles from where I live, I always ask if she’s been having any internet issues. There’s usually something to sort: on a recent visit, I streamlined her Apple ID, showed her how to use Wallet, taught her about malware and convinced her to spend £2 on the paid version of her favourite word games app to avoid the infernal ads (they did my head in after two minutes – she listens to them every day). You get the pleasure of being regarded like Einstein and forgetting your own silly problems for half an hour as you untangle their online knots. And if they’re anything like my nana, you might get cake, too.
A trip to the theatre
For me, theatre is pure escapism. There’s something so magical about being in that place, in that moment, with these people: a unique experience that can never be repeated. I felt that most keenly the day my dad died. I was in the foyer when I got the call, but instead of heading straight home, I went on in. I knew I’d feel buoyed up by the brief respite (and that he’d approve – we used to go to that particular theatre together). It doesn’t have to cost a fortune, either: I’m lucky enough to live in London which means I get to see amazing Shakespeare at the Globe for a fiver. Book for previews or first nights, go for tiny theatres that often punch well above their weight, get yourself on mailing lists and investigate ways to save (such as the National Theatre’s Friday Rush tickets). Don’t wait for reviews to come out; trust your gut and if it turns out to be a stinker, well, you can laugh about it later.
A cheese toastie
On more than one occasion, I have experienced the mood-boosting powers of a piping hot cheese toastie – preferably bought from an outdoor shack, ideally on the coast. My mindset is often influenced by the weather – I don’t do well in the cold and damp – but a good cheese-pull paired with garlicky, buttery bread turns my temperament around in no time.
Smooth out your sheets
It’s a small thing, but during low periods, forcing myself to wash and iron my bedsheets means that I go to bed feeling as if I have everything together and that things might just turn out OK. On wash days, I’ll have an early night, and the combination of feeling rested and having enjoyed crisp, clean sheets always means that I wake up feeling brighter.
Growing an avocado plant
I have spent many months at home on sick leave. I walk, read and sometimes write, but I have always been bad at taking care of plants. Last January, I decided to take on the challenge of growing avocados at home from the seed. It took at least five months to see effects. Every day, I looked at them with hope, until one broke and started growing. It is now 80cm tall. After that, I started sprouting mangoes, bought a small kiwi plant, fig and a banana plant, too. The joy of seeing them daily is priceless.
Dance classes
When I signed my six-year-old up to a street dance class last year, I noticed a line towards the bottom of the flyer: “Adult class, 8.30-9.30pm, Thursdays”, at a high school 20 minutes’ drive away. I’ve always been partial to dancing, but I hadn’t attended a class since my school days. I decided to give it a whirl. By 8.10pm on a Thursday, having completed the second shift of the day (kids’ bath and bed battle, after a day’s work) I resist the deep urge to crawl on to the couch and lose myself in a screen … and I never regret it. How can you not feel lifted after an hour’s thrusting to a Five megamix? Plus, the class is full of lovely northern working mums equally delighted to carve an hour out of their weeks for themselves by strutting to a Janet Jackson banger or, my personal favourite, Dirty Cash. We are moving our bodies, having a laugh and our phones are nowhere to be seen. That’s not just joy, that’s wellness! (Even if we occasionally end up in the pub afterwards.)
Crochet hats for people in need
Ever since I learned how to crochet during lockdown, making beanies and blankets has given me great pleasure: it’s creative, mindful and low-stress. But there was a downside: the bags full of half-used yarn cluttering my house. I found myself running out of things to make, or friends to foist crocheted hats on to. Then I found out about a scheme where my local hospital accepted donated crocheted hats and blankets for premature babies in the neonatal intensive care unit. Now the yarn stash is depleted and my hobby has a purpose – and I have the perfect excuse to buy more wool.
Watching dog rescues
I’m not a dog person, but I love watching videos by Niall Harbison, who rescues mistreated or neglected dogs in Thailand. Some of the animals are very tough cases, who are understandably terrified and mistrustful of humans – but he always manages to patiently rehabilitate them, often sharing almost unrecognisable footage of them in their new homes (one, Buttons, was adopted by Liam Gallagher). Something about their resilience and softness after unimaginable hardship feels very life-affirming and always puts my own problems in perspective.
Cribbage with friends
I know it’s a card game that had its heyday in around 1694, but hear me out. I grew up playing this wonderful game with my Grandpa Len, and however badly my day might have been going, it always turned it around. It is full of archaic rules and turns of phrase: one for his nob if you turn over a Jack!; 15 four and the rest don’t score; and, of course, level pegging – but we spent so many beautiful hours playing it, me moving the pegs on our board as his fingers became arthritic, eventually holding his cards up for him. Then three years ago, I was at a children’s music class when one of the mums happened to mention she was hungover because she’d been playing cribbage the night before. My face must have lit up enough to power the whole electricity grid, because the following week she told me she’d bought a special three-player board (a rarity, to be sure) and asked me to join her and her mate Jen for a game. Now I get to play again every month for a few drinks, way more laughs and a lot of totting numbers up to 15. We even have our own personalised pegs. One of these days I’ll teach my daughter, Lennie, to play, too.
Write it all down
When I’m feeling low I don’t look for a miracle – I lean on rituals. It starts with lists. What began as a way to avoid forgetting groceries slowly became a way to unload thoughts and emotions when anxiety crowds my head. Writing things down on paper feels physically relieving; my narrow, rectangular notepads (I’ve lost count) are like tiny confidants where I store worries to revisit later, calmly – alone, with a trusted friend, or, more recently, with GPTs.
Washing my hair
You know how when your phone is playing up, the best thing to do is turn it off and on again? When I wish I could turn myself off and on again, I wash my hair. It’s like a reset button: the shampoo scent, the blast of the shower, the roar of the hairdryer. It’s not really about making my hair look better, it’s about refreshing my mood. It works particularly well in the evening when I’m feeling a bit flat-battery; afterwards, I have more energy and feel more cheerful. Anya Hindmarch wrote a book of life advice called If In Doubt, Wash Your Hair and she is absolutely right. It’s a mantra to live by.
Giving brilliant books to others
I cannot make much change in the current political and social state of the US, beyond voting with my conscience and supporting various peaceful causes. However, I help my fellow citizens understand ideas of equity and justice via books that I leave in the Little Free Libraries around my home. If just one person is inspired by a book to be more caring and just, I have done something good.
Observing my cats
I share my home with two cats that I adore. Amid work and other daily pressures, however, it’s all too easy for them to recede into the background and register as part of the furniture. When I’m feeling frazzled, low or otherwise need a lift, now I make a point of seeking them out and checking in. These moments ground me in the present and wake me up to tiny, rewarding detail. I’m left feeling a renewed appreciation for the life I’ve created and the weird little guys I share it with. They seem to like the attention, too.
