The past months of compulsory social minimalism have given our family another nudge towards appreciating the abundant beauty that is simple living.
We listen to an audio book about tidying up while we shop for more. We book a yoga retreat away from everything and everyone on our way to meet with friends after work. We subscribe to a meditation app yet cannot find the time to use it.
A few months ago it became very clear that our kids have reached a picky eater stage. Especially our 8 year old. Although I am preparing myself for the same to happen with our 6 year old a few years from now.
Yes! We have finally said goodbye to the four builders who spent the past nine weeks refurbishing our small London home. While most of our belongings were safely tucked away in a dust-free storage cube down the road, we were to waltz around settling clouds of dust before bedding down for the night.
My two late grandmothers were very skilful at making and mending clothes. My father’s mother was a natural at crocheting. Every summer, I still proudly wear one of her handmade cardigans. My mother’s mother was a meticulous sock darner and I remember her working her way through a basket full of mismatched socks when she came to visit.