c'mon, let's potter

the delight of wandering aimlessly from one thing to the next

There is nothing quite as lovely as a gentle day of pottering. Time without plans or expectations, the opportunity to do whatever you like on a whim. More of this in life, please!

Sometimes it’s a salve for tired eyes or a broken heart. When you’re most disenchanted, or feeling plain fed-up, you can rely on a potter to ease your frustrations. Some may think it’s unimportant or trivial — what a waste of good time! — but perhaps what most of us need right now is the space to wander without obligation; to figure out what really matters, and let go of what doesn’t. It’s here that we nurture a positive mindset and bolster our energy and resolve so we can maintain hope, regardless of how and where we live.

Best done at home, no matter the weather, pottering is one of my very favourite things. I much prefer it when I’m alone (I’m unashamed of my delight in an empty house and particularly pleased when there’s a reprieve from questions and requests). Sometimes I’ll play music, I may light a candle, often I’ll just listen to the stillness which provides the perfect backdrop for a wandering mind and gentle thoughts.

Pottering at home is a practical way to cushion yourself from the world. And we all need that once in a while. In particularly busy periods, when the schedule is full and demands are high, I’ll often dream of days without plans. When I chat to people who are in these busy periods, I suggest that when space opens up, they should absolutely plan a day of pottering. Something will always get in the way, but you can also choose to protect pottering like your life depends on it.

And sometimes life — mental clarity, creative verve, the ability to make sense of things and carry on with some semblance of optimism — actually does depend on it.

I’ve been doing it myself this week, creating more time to walk in green spaces and pick whatever daisies are growing through fences. I brought them home and popped them in water; will plant sometime soon and cross my fingers they like their new aspect.

I’ve planted seeds and seedlings, marvelled at the growth and peppery bang of the hybrid rocket, and planned a new little patch down the side of the house for extra cucumbers and tomatoes.

I’ve shuffled papers and rearranged books, inevitably opening one and then another to read from whatever page I land. I’ve made a small pile of clothes to sell and packed away the heavy woollens. In between I’ve written notes with ideas and to-dos and generally picked things up and put them down again before being happily distracted by the dog or the birds or the coffee machine.

Just to be clear, pottering doesn’t necessarily mean cleaning. Sometimes I’ll sprinkle a few drops of eucalyptus oil on a dusting cloth to wipe awake the muck as I move through the room, but that’s about it. Yes, I’ll pick up a stray sock or an empty tea cup and perhaps even fold some washing, but mostly pottering is for me. I don’t set out to be productive but I’ve learnt that it’s a deeply productive practice; it may look like nothing but it nurtures a part of myself that gets lost when I’m busy. After only an hour I feel lighter and more settled. I feel more like me.

Pottering is one way of looking after yourself. Perhaps it feeds the part of you that needs to step back and take stock, to have a bit of a cry or be angry or just mosey about if your head won’t really let you do anything else.

Sometimes you’ll walk away feeling like it wasn’t enough time and sometimes you would have uncovered a sense of peace, where the whirling mind has slowed, and quiet descends. It’s in these moments that you’ll come back to yourself; you’ll remember what matters. And with this knowing, you’ll move back into the world a little more grounded.

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books to potter through

Look, it hasn’t been the week for concentrated reading but I am thoroughly enjoying Home Cooking by Laurie Colwin which is precisely the light, witty, dip-in-and-out sort of non-fiction that feels easy and nourishing. I’ve preordered two of her novels which are being re-released this month (a moment for those cover designs, please).

Pandora Sykes

wrote a delightful essay on both Colwin and Elizabeth Strout and I’ve returned to it three times because it touches on precisely what I look for in fiction: relatable and charming prose that celebrates our humanness.

I’m also totally enamoured by Nina Stibbe and her recently released diaries which contain paragraphs like this:

“Peggy and I escorted Meg Mason to Nick Hornby’s for tea and cake. When he opened a cupboard to get the teabags out I noticed a wide range of breakfast cereals. I admire anyone who doesn’t just stick to one type and can wake up thinking, ‘Shall I have Frosties, or Rice Krispies, or sugar-free Alpen today?’”

Don’t be mistaken, this isn’t just one literary name drop after another, it’s a quirky series of daily entries that capture the beauty of mundane life with the odd brave decision and social gathering thrown in for good measure. Highly recommend.

Years ago I stumbled across Six Square Metres by Margaret Simons at my library and read it in a few sittings between carrying on with all the other things that needed doing. I gifted a copy to my mum last Christmas and she passed it on to friends and they all love it. It’s a simple story about a small garden written by a political journalist who is dedicated to her family and not so pleased by the inner-city McDonald’s opposite her house. If you’re after an easy read that’s also completely satisfying, look no further.

Lastly, Making Things, by

Erin Boyle

— the guru of purposeful and practical — is definitely worth a potter. It’s a beautiful celebration of simple materials and the useful objects they can become. Perhaps what I loved most about it is the heartfelt encouragement to give it a go; to use your hands and get crafty when your mind feels tangled, because sometimes freeing a knot from a ball of thread provides the opportunity for your thoughts to clear and the answers to come. I borrowed it from the library and looked at it so many times that it will be featuring as a gift for myself under the tree.

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other things

• over on

  Dear new mum
  I’m talking about the inevitable juggle of early motherhood (I think it’s incredibly helpful to throw the goal of ‘balance’ out the window)

• The Booker Prize is announced on Tuesday evening (UK time). I’ve had the privelege of learning from

  Charlotte Wood
  over the past six months and she has bolstered my writing life (and my creative soul) immensely so of course I hope she wins. I really enjoyed The Book Show’s Booker Prize edition where each of the shortlisted authors speak about their work. It’s very pleasing listening.

• I’m a long way down the library holds list but I’m looking forward to reading The Blue Hour and The Wedding Forecast (perfect summer reads, I think).

Till next time, take care x