What can go wrong, does. That’s Murphy’s Law. And this week I am a living example of that.

My phone is broken and needs fixing. I am surprisingly bereft of my right-hand man in a week when I need a phone to contact various people.

My Dad is having a scope on Thursday and a scan for a cataract on Friday. I have no phone to ring him or the places to check whether he needs collection or companionship. I’ll get there in the end.

I have training at work for a new management system. It’s only 3 to 4 hours for two days, but it’s intensive. My head is spinning and I know that Peter, who does not enjoy change, will be peeved for a few days/weeks/months while it beds in. Also, there’ll be all the usual dead ending and wrong path followings that usually happen while a new system is being setting up.

I have an essay to write (two essays) for my Reader training. One on What Is Christian Hope and another on the divinity of Christ. I could do with asking advice from my whatsapp mates, but whatsapp is missing at the moment. All I can do is read and write and hope it’s the right path.

I have friends I need to contact, and can’t. Whatever we were going to plan will need to wait for a while. I’m pinning my hopes on September being easier.

And it’s August. I’m not feeling it. I’m on my nerves, anxious. I think everything and all at once is not a good way to operate. Thank God I have an early September holiday planned, but I really feel like I could do with a three day retreat from life totally. Time away to listen to that still, small voice. Because, God, I’m not hearing you at the moment. Could you poke me in the right direction, please?

And so I find myself looking back to the small, the easy and the usual suspects when it comes to dealing with it. Tea, toast, clean sheets and a tidy drawer.

I was on Substack yesterday (I like Substack: it’s like a blog reader but, at least in my small corner, filled with people who like life, domesticity, faith, books, living well and not actually attacking anyone. I think that’s called a carefully curated feed, but so difficult to do on other platforms) and I saw a quote that someone had posted from Alison May, Brocante Home. It struck me wholeheartedly as something that I remember so well doing as a 30-plus year old mother, but which as a 55-plus year old post-menopausal woman I have let slip away.

There’s joy in a well-made bed. Joy in knowing how to care for old wood, how it drinks the oil. Joy in a stew, stewing and waiting for tomorrow like money in the bank. In the first fire of autumn. The clean window. The car boot saucer under the pot. The note tucked in a lunchbox and found years later in a coat. The shelf arranged like a private poem nobody else will ever scan.

Brocante Home was one of the first blogs I found back in 2006? 2008? when as a stay at home Mum I needed to fill time and find a tribe. I’ve slipped away and outside, but never quite found my tribe. Perhaps this year’s word, for the second half of the year or the academic year that I still find myself living by, should be homecoming. Not a dreadful, dance-music, sports obsessed American High School Homecoming but the quiet simple sliding back in through the door. A Samwise Gamgee return, a sussuration of cloak-shedding and a quiet “Well, I’m back”.

Back to clean my sink (it needs it), empty my over-flowing sock drawer and clear off my shelves. Back to basics, in such a lovely way. I’ve been using Gousto as a delivery box and mostly it’s been good. But as Autumn slides in, I seek the stew fantastic.

My phone will, hopefully, be back next week. I do need it for work, and I will get on with the work at hand. But September is sitting waiting for me. August has already slipped away, sipped slyly as I shoved one more task on my list. September awaits: a time for routines and rituals stripped to the barebones. Work: Family: Church: Training. Books, oh yes, always books, great piles of them to dip into and out of and some favourites waiting to be seen. Food, simple and uncomplicated like a 19th Century farmer’s wife. And peace. Innisfree peace, dripping slow.

August? You were never mine.

How to Hygge the British Way is my gift to the world. I don’t get paid for writing it, I’m not in it for the kudos, financial rewards, to become an influencer, work with brands or otherwise make any money from the blog. That’s why there are no ads, and any products I mention and recommend have either been gifted to me or bought by me with my everyday wages or donations from supporters. Every book I review has been bought and read by me, unless stated otherwise.

I do get a couple of pennies each time someone buys from the Amazon links on my page, as an Amazon Affiliate, but otherwise if you’d like to support me, I like to give something back in return. That’s why I write books. It always feels good if you get a book back in return for some money. You can find a full list of my books at my Author’s Page on Amazon, but my non-Christmas books are:

Cosy Happy Hygge: Setting up a rhythm to life and rituals to enjoy it to make for a more balanced life that handles waves and storms better. The book has small and easy ways to make your life flow with grace and happiness, which lead to more hygge.

Happier: Probably my most personal book, it’s the story of how I used hygge and the little things in life to help boost my happiness. I still go back and reread to remind myself what I need to do to be a happy human. And it’s always the little things.

I’m currently working on two book projects: I have a hankering to rewrite 50 Ways to Hygge the British Way, so it’s not available at the moment, but even dearer to my heart and my next stated aim is to finish and publish my next book, Simple Plus Cosy = Hygge. It will be about homemaking and how the home we create shapes the hygge we have. Hopefully it will be finished by the end of Winter 2026.

If you’d like to support me, but don’t want to buy a book, I have a Paypal.Me account as Hygge Jem. Every little helps, so even a few pence goes towards the books, goods and courses I use and recommend on the site. I’m grateful for every little bit that brings me closer to my dream of full-time writing, and I know I couldn’t still be writing if it weren’t for the support of many readers and friends out there. Thank you all for every little bit of support, emotional, physical and financial, you give me.

If you’ve enjoyed this article, don’t forget to share it or save it so others can enjoy reading, thinking about and living hygge as well.

The photo between post and promotions is of the Rosary Quay in Bruges. We went there in July and I think it was the last peaceful moment I remember having this year. We came back to family issues, medical appointments, work upgrades and more. Slowing down, slowing down. I need to slow down.