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.

Nightclubbing

I know the secret to long-term mental wellbeing is eating well, regular exercise and a rigid bedtime but, in the short term, nothing gets me out of a miserable rut like doing a half-decent attempt at winged eyeliner and spending from two to eight hours on a crowded club dancefloor. And don’t just trust my opinion – they serve a proven biological and psychological need. Studies have shown dancing in unison is so powerful that afterwards people report liking each other more, and if you remove creative movement (ie dancing) from people’s lives their mood drops.

A writing group

There’s an inherent loneliness to writing, particularly when it’s your first book. My writing group was thrown together on a course last spring, and now meet monthly-ish to share how we’re getting on and where we’re stuck. In the past 18 months, I’ve turned up unmotivated, floundering in the weeds, or even ready to jack the whole thing in. And I’ve always left – a couple of wines heavier – reinvigorated, inspired and unstuck, thanks to the clarity that comes from fresh perspectives.

Watching clumsy clips

I’ve always loved watching clips of people being injured … but in a fun way. When I was younger my dad once hung up the phone on me because I was simultaneously watching You’ve Been Framed! on the TV and couldn’t stop laughing. I still draw on this secondhand sadism whenever I feel anxious or overwhelmed. I use it to smooth out my jagged brain, staring blankly at my Instagram “for you” page and gorging on compilations of doorbell camera footage showing people falling down their porch steps laden with shopping, for example. Or dogs dragging their owners across their front lawn while chasing a cat. Or men banging their heads on garage doors, or low-hanging flower baskets. What can I say, it soothes me! And yes, before you ask, I do also go to therapy.

Watching live animal cams

Last year, I lost my six-year-old boxer to cancer. Losing a loyal pet is a specific kind of grief, and not one completely understood by friends and colleagues who aren’t animal lovers. One thing I found helpful was watching live animal cams on YouTube, where you can observe all kinds of creatures going about their daily business, from sea otters to beluga whales to snow leopards. Katmai national park in Alaska even has an annual fat bear week, where the public can vote for their favourite fat bear. How could you not be cheered?

Starting a vegetable garden

I’ve never been interested in growing vegetables, because having to learn something new seemed like too much work. I decided to give it a try. The world was on fire and Donald Trump had just gotten elected. I found some tomato, strawberry and lemon cucumber plants locally and bought romaine lettuce and kale seeds at the grocery store. I watched YouTube videos on how to plant. It was surprisingly easy and my garden has been abundant. I’ve been able to meet my neighbours – they love and appreciate the produce and I like connecting with people I may not have otherwise met.

Jazzy nails

I like to paint my nails fun, sparkly colours. Not only is the act of sitting and painting them relaxing, but I work a lot on my computer, so I often catch sight of them out of the corner of my eye. Every time, it’s a little pop of colour and fun in my day. It’s a small thing, but I find these little boosts can add up to something significant.

Tidying

It sounds like something guaranteed to make the heart sink, but housework really lifts my spirits. Not the actual doing of it, but the feeling when it’s done. One weekend recently when I felt overwhelmed – desperate to finish a project I’d been struggling with; anxious about a friend’s health; surrounded by mess I’d been too busy to attend to – I thought, right: just get up and get on with it. Headphones on, I set to, catching up on all the cleaning and clearing that had been hanging over me. Only afterwards did I realise just how much it had been dragging me down. Looking around my newly tidy rooms, I felt re-energised and joyful. And all it took was a bit of time and elbow grease.

Comfort TV in the bath

When I need to spark joy I rewatch Grey’s Anatomy in the bath. I like to lie flat with just my eyes peeping out of the water, like a crocodile; I’ve developed a system where I prop my laptop on the toilet seat and angle the screen to 45 degrees, so I can drink in the show without ever having to move my neck. Grey’s Anatomy is a medical drama and it’s intensely action-packed, but it is so melodramatic that it is never truly disturbing: patients die, but they also come back to life, a lot. The characters are constantly curing rare diseases and making paralysed patients walk again, but they also squeeze in lots of hot sex with each other on hospital premises. There is something intensely satisfying about watching all this drama play out while eyeballs-deep in hot water. Technically, I am doing absolutely nothing. But emotionally, I am curing brain cancer with McDreamy, and kissing McSteamy in the rain. I’m about to start my fourth re-watch.

Acknowledge a stranger

Driving into town during the school rush hour, full of anxiety and dread due to an upcoming meeting, my heart was lifted by a young boy cycling to school. In Ireland we have a culture of “gestures of acknowledgment” that is becoming less common in busy urban areas. However, as I stopped to let this boy cross the road he raised his hand in thanks and nodded briefly as he passed and went on his way. It really cheered me to see this simple but powerful tool of connection being continued in the new generation. I lifted my hand from the steering wheel to acknowledge him in return. And on we went with our respective days, unknown to each other but somehow mattering all the same.

Trampolining

If I’m feeling stressed and lethargic after a long day of working at home, when my kids get home from school I’ll join them on the trampoline for a quick jumping session. It gets my blood pumping and wakes me up again, but more noticeably it lifts my mood. There’s something very freeing about flying through the air and we always end up laughing, playing a silly game and generally having fun together, which is an instant boost.

Sowing wildflowers

Years ago, when my children were young, we haphazardly strew native wildflower seeds along a rough patch behind our house. Every spring, I delight in watching the mostly annual plants sprout up – each year’s batch is slightly different from the last, and I can easily lose myself looking for insects and butterflies, or counting how many species of native bees I can find. When I’m feeling overwhelmed with the state of the world, a brief stroll through this small spot reminds me of the possibilities of hope and renewal, and lends me strength to continue loving and caring for this beautiful world in which we live.

A circuit-breaking poem

I get so sick of doomscrolling and have found a way to break the cycle. I go to poetry.org and look at the poem of the day. I’m not a great poetry reader, but having one poem to read a day has been a circuit-breaker that gives me either a bigger or smaller view of life and the world. I am less inclined to go back to news sites and more inclined to get out of my chair. I don’t like all the poems but some have rocked my world. It’s a very happy way to spend 10 minutes a day (even if I cry sometimes).

Hits from the 80s

From Come on Eileen to Cameo’s Word Up – either listening to a playlist or watching a rerun of Top of the Pops – it’s the best tonic on a grey day that transports me back to my youth, and even better if you have some likeminded friends to dance with.

A big sandwich

In periods of listlessness, I always turn to a big sandwich: two large obelisks of bread, dangerous amounts of butter, fillings piled high. There’s something about the process of slowly working through a big sandwich, one chew at a time, that brings me back to life. Either make your own (pro tip: a potato rosti or hash brown elevates the thing) or, if you’re feeling particularly devoid of spirit, head to a professional: I’d recommend Cardiff’s longrunning New York Deli, with its giant hoagies and Philly cheesesteaks; or the much-loved Max’s Sandwich Shop in London, whose magnificent Ham, Egg ’n’ Chips sarnie will bring you back to life in a few bites.

Sniffing suncream

I’ve pinched this hack from my brother, who keeps a bottle of sun lotion in his work van. On miserable cold winter mornings (usually while he is waiting for the windscreen to defrost), the smell of a little squirt takes him right back to happy memories of the summer.

Joining a gym

At age 73, I joined a gym. I’ve been exercising regularly for a year and it has not only made me physically fit, it has significantly reduced my lifelong problems with anxiety and depression. After a workout, the remainder of my day is filled with beauty.

Open University

Early in my career, I was feeling very unfulfilled at work and as though I was losing brain cells by the day, so I signed up to an Open University entry to creative writing course. It was all done over email – in the days before Zoom classes became the norm – but the discipline of writing and submitting work, and being marked on it, gave an amazing boost to my confidence, and made me feel as though I was using my brain again, helping me think more creatively in other areas of my life.

Penpals

I have a long list of “penpals” who don’t live any great distance from me but whom I regularly write to, which makes me feel connected when sharing the everyday stuff. I love pretty stationery (Cath Kidston writing sets being a particular fave) and have a great collection of stickers and washi tape. I live in rural Lincolnshire so have to go across three fields to post my letters – an added bonus, as the walk makes me feel as if I’m in a Jane Austen novel.

Random chats with strangers (other than about the weather)

Recently in a bookshop I noticed the person in the queue in front of me holding one of my favourite books. Without hesitating I told him what a great read it was. The conversation quickly turned to other books that we each loved and including one that I had just finished, which happened to be by an author he knew personally. It was a lovely spontaneous chat that left us both smiling.

Kitchen discos

My husband and I started a new tradition to overcome our empty nest syndrome. One Sunday when I was feeling glum about our (newly) quiet house, he put on Abba’s greatest hits and started disco dancing along to cheer me up. Before long I was in hysterics and now we regularly make time to dance together at home – even if it’s only for the length of a song. One benefit of not having the children at home is that we spare them their embarrassment!