Pottering: A Cure for Modern Life

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I think just that sentence--keep it digital free--is probably sufficient once you've got the gist of pottering. After a day of pottering you feel refreshed and might be surprised to realize you actually did get a few things done, even though accomplishing something was not the goal. She suggests using a calendar, alarm clock, radio, TV, a landline, newspapers, notepad and pen, map and cash. But remember, says McGovern, there’s no pressure with pottering, you can always pick it up where you left off tomorrow. While many books offer trendy cures to the bustle and stress of modern life that involve going to far-off places or making drastic life shifts, this book’s approach is, with intention, much closer to home.

What you do when you potter is often so inconsequential that it’s not worth a picture or post on social media. Three years ago, McGovern had a full-time job, three young children and an ageing father she was caring for.

Pottering—“to occupy oneself in a pleasant way but without a definite plan or purpose”—is akin to fixing a squeaky hinge or making a cup of tea, and McGovern explores the freedom and comfort inherent in such basic human tendencies, though they’ve been crowded out of contemporary definitions of success and happiness. This is a simple book and it asks little of you, it would be a perfect gift for a friend from whom too much is currently being asked. Its descriptions of the practices and purposes of pottering are apt and unadorned, and its charming British diction is inviting.

It's about switching off from the stresses of the world and being happy with what you've got, living in the moment, appreciating the little things. Then the chapters are full of musing and specific suggestions for how to go about pottering when following that particular guideline.

The whole thing is written in a light-hearted style, but at its heart is a profound truth - that me-time is essential for our wellbeing, and pottering is quintessentially me-time because it requires no planning, no lists, no tyranny of achievement. Well, I might not be concentrating, but that’s the joy of pottering — the ability to slip into autopilot, to let one’s mind wander, perhaps hum that wretched tune that insinuated itself into one’s consciousness thanks to listening to Classic FM when shaving.