Fascinating things | paper towns

Or why maps are not always to be trusted

You think you know where you are with a map, don’t you? Hopefully in a very literal as well as a figurative sense. We’re going to mess with your mind here… <whispers> Not everything you see on maps is real!

We recently heard about ‘paper towns’, which are, as you might expect, towns, streets or areas that can be seen on a map but do not exist in reality. 

Also known as ‘fake towns’, ‘phantom settlements’ and ‘bunnies’ (no, we aren’t sure why either), paper towns are made up by map makers in order to catch out copycat cartographers (try saying that while you’re drawing a map). The idea being if you add a fake town to your map and then you look at a map drawn at a later date by someone else and it includes the town you made up, you’ll be able to prove they copied your work. Sneaky!

There is, we are told, a Moat Lane marked on the Tele Atlas Directory of London (the basis for Google) which is entirely made up. And it’s not the first time Google has unwittingly copied a fake entry from a map onto its own map of an area. 

Back in 2008, there was a flurry of interest in a town called Argleton in West Lancashire. A trawl of the internet turned up all kinds of businesses, land for sale and more, but there was a hitch… Argleton did not exist. If you went to the spot where it was marked on Google, there was nothing to see but a rather uninspiring field. When it was brought to Google’s attention they issued an apology for the ‘error’ and the town disappeared from its maps in 2010. But somewhere, someone was having the last laugh at his or her little joke (and the knowledge that Google had chosen their maps to use). 

Suggestions were made that Arlgeton was an anagram of ‘not large’ or even ‘not real’ with a ‘G’ added for ‘Google’. Who knows if that’s true, or just a delicious coincidence, but we’ll be studying our Ordnance Surveys more carefully in future for suspicious-sounding towns that ring no bells.

If you also love a map, don’t miss our November issue in which we meet cartographer Kevin Sheehan who creates traditional, hand drawn maps like the one pictured here. Each is a work of art in its own right. 

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our November issue…

More map related fun…

Build your own spooky story

Frighten friends and freak out family with your own spooky story

If you love a scary tale, especially at this time of year, why not try penning your own? How hard can it be, after all*? To show you just how easy it is, we asked author and creative writing tutor Susan Elliot Wright to help us put together this Spooky Story Kit. Simply choose one beginning, one ending and five scary elements from below, string them together with a few verbs and conjunctions and Bob’s your Uncle (and The Bride of Frankenstein’s your Aunt). Go!

Beginnings (choose one)

1. She had thought the house was empty as she pushed open the creaking door…

2. Four hundred years after her death, Esmerelda sat up in her coffin…

3. A mile or two into the forest road, Roger Peebles’ car choked to a halt. He had run out of petrol…

Endings (choose one)

1. And that would be the last the town saw of those vampires, for now at least.

2. He put the knife back where he had found it. No one would ever know he had been there at all.

3. But the rats continued to run.

Scary Elements to add to your story’s sandwich filling

1. An electric light that doesn’t work. Characters may pull on it frantically and pointlessly. 

2. A crow. Particularly one with beady eyes or a malformed foot or two.

3. A rocking chair that rocks of its own accord. Just a little bit too quickly and silently to have been set off by a human.

4. A clown. Not a funny one though. A malign-looking, silent one, preferably seen from a distance. 

5. Long corridors (they really should be <very> long, and also shadowy to allow plenty of opportunity for evil to skulk in their corners).

6. The distant sound of a weeping woman that can’t be located. The listener should ideally dash from room to room, with the noise of weeping becoming  louder and quieter again at random. 

7. A face at the window of a house. The protagonist should not be able to locate the room the face appeared in once inside the property. 

8. Some things that ‘go’ when no one has set them off: a television, a gramophone, a slightly manic-looking wind-up toy monkey bashing cymbals together.

9. Something seen from the corner of one’s eye, only fleetingly. It should move swiftly and be gone when the protagonist whirls round (one never simply turns in spooky stories).

10. A deserted institution. An asylum is ideal but hospitals, churches and prisons are all good. Any building that would once have been bustling and may hide dark secrets. 

11. Any child’s toy in the wrong context. A rag doll that appears in someone’s home and has never been seen before. A doll’s house in an abandoned home. Any mechanical toy that moves of its own accord. 

*It’s quite a bit harder than we have made this sound, actually.

Susan Elliot Wright loves a spooky story. Her latest novel, The Flight of Cornelia Blackwood (Simon and Schuster) features some rather spooky crows, of which she is a big fan. For more of her writing tips and advice on getting published visit susanelliotwright.co.uk.  For some more spooky inspiration, have a read of our feature Dare To Be Scared for ideas on paranormal outings you can do in a day (p80).

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

If you enjoy a good mystery, don’t miss our November issue, in which we will be announcing the winner of our competition to write the ending for a murder mystery penned by Sophie Hannah. We'll be publishing Sophie’s own ending to the story (and the rest of it too, so you can enjoy it all in one go) here on the blog later in the month.

More from our October issue…

More spooky things for an autumn evening…

Etymology | juglandaceous

Here are The Simple Things, we always enjoy sharing excellent words. Here’s one for autumn

JUGLANDACEOUS

An adjective meaning of, like, or pertaining to walnuts. It comes from the Latin juglans, (walnut), which is derived from ‘ju’ a shortened form of Jupiter (as in the God) and ‘glans’ meaning ‘acorn’, so: Jupiter’s acorn. 

We are unsure what Jupiter had to do with it all. 

You can use it in a literal way, meaning ‘to do with walnuts’, but we prefer the less common metaphorical use, for example: ‘Great Uncle Arthur’s nose was large, misshapen and tanned. A juglandaceous feature that entered the room before he did.’

We have a very juglandaceous Finders Keepers feature in our October ‘Create’ issue, by Lia Leendertz, in which she gives advice on foraging walnuts and sweet chestnuts and recipes for using your haul.

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our October issue…

More fun with words…

Why we love | new stationery

September means new pens and pencils and lots more goodies besides. We’re reminiscing about stationery we have known and loved

There’s something deliciously lovely about a new notebook, a set of matching pencils, or a virgin rubber, isn’t there? As adults we still think of September as a time to stock up and treat ourselves to a few new things for our workspaces. It must be a hangover from our school days. The last week of the summer holidays was always a melancholy few days, with the prospect of early mornings, uniforms and trigonometry looming, as memories of long days in the sunshine faded. But there was one small chink of light… the promise of new stationery to be purchased before the start of term. 

Of course there were the necessary, but slightly boring items to be bought - set squares, protractors and HB pencils… Even boring stationery items are nice when they’re new though, aren’t they?

But the main stationery event of the summer was always the buying of the novelty stationery items. If your heart doesn’t beat a little faster to this day at the thought of a four-colour Bic biro, you may be missing part of your soul. And they were just the start…

Tintin pens that erased ink as if by magic (and left a strange yellow patch on the paper that could only be written over in biro); smelly rubbers (that would later be banned from most schools following a rumour that a rather dim child ate one); double-ended coloured pencils, giving you twice the colouring joy. The stationery aisle of John Menzies (or wherever your parents took you for your back-to-school shop) was an Aladdin’s cave of treasures.

The lucky few among us had parents who would indulge such whims as pop-out pencil cases - the ones with ten or so tiny compartments that popped out on a spring (and would likely be broken by half term). Oh to be a girl that had a special compartment for her rubber and pencil sharpener, let alone a tiny slot in the lid in which to store your lessons timetable and slide-out sections for felt-tip pens… All of which gadgetry ensured there was little room for any actual stationery inside, but that was beside the point. 

Luckier still were those of us who had been to France over the summer and had the opportunity to buy ridiculously cheap and incredibly chic French stationery in hypermarches on the continent. Brightly coloured rubberised Naf Naf pencil cases and Chipie notebooks with squared <swoons> paper, marked out these most fortunate children with their covetable lives. 

But the wonderful thing about stationery is that there was something for every budget and every taste. If you didn’t have a pop-out pencil case, you could still bring a bit of colour and magic to your (inferior, ordinary) pencil case, with a pink-haired troll pencil topper, a Pepsi Cola rubber (King of all the scented rubbers) or the simple addition of a few ‘googly eye’ stickers to the exterior of your Pukka jotter.

Stationery is as covetable today as ever, with chains such as Paperchase and Smiggle enchanting the youth of today with garish, scented, ever fluffier, furrier and zanier stationery. We’d like to say that ours were the glory days but really, any company that is helping bring the frisson of brand new pens and pencils to another generation, easing them gently into a new school term is ok by us.  Viva, fancy stationery!

Do you remember particularly lovely stationery items from your childhood? Share your memories with us in the comments below. 

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our September issue…

More stationery we love…

Lost arts | writing a nice, newsy letter

Why writing and posting a letter is a forgotten pleasure

Do you remember the last time you received a letter from a friend? We bet you do, mainly because it’s such a rare thing these days. We bet you kept it, too, and reread it several times. We live in a world of texts, emails and (worse) texts that contain only emojis, which frankly, we think of as a crime against semi colons and brackets that ought to be punishable by law. 

So among all this, a letter you can unfold and hold, with actual ink, a recognisable hand, is something to treasure. 

We’ve resolved to write to friends more often, rather than sending those quick texts and emails, and are hoping to spread a little of that old-school joy of receiving a letter as well as enjoy the time spent on our own, penning it.

Here are a few tips on how to write a really good letter and enjoy every moment of it.

1. Make the writing of a letter an event. Take your pens and paper to a coffee shop or library, or find a corner of the house or garden to escape to, and make sure  you have a good hour free. You don’t have to finish the letter. Many of the best letters are written across a number of days with charming additions and edits marked on as you go. Lovely. 

2. Get out your posh pens and paper (and pencil case, too, if you like). Nice things make the experience even more pleasurable and a lovely pen and some nice heavy paper or an interesting card to write in will ensure you use your very best handwriting, too. 

3. Once you’ve assembled your tools and got yourself a cup of something steaming, you’re ready to write. Begin by setting out your reason for writing - you don’t want anyone panicking and suspecting there’s bad news to impart. Your reason for writing could be as simple as ‘I’ve decided to write more letters this year, and you’re my first victim!’

4. Draw up a mental list of things you want to tell your friend. Ask yourself what you’d tell her if you phoned her and she asked what you’d been up to. It’s easy to feel a bit self-conscious writing all this down without the usual conversational to and fro you have in a phone call or face-to-face conversation but go with it and it will start to feel more natural.

5. You’ll discover your natural written tone as you go but write in ‘your voice’. Use the expressions and words you would use in everyday conversation. Letters to friends should feel intimate but never formal. 

6. Don’t feel limited by the bounds of convention - little illustrations and diagrams will raise a smile and help as set the scene, whether it’s a comical drawing of the look on the bus driver’s face when you tried to pay using your library card, or a diagram of the parking wars battlefield raging on your street. Footnotes, asides and postscripts all add fun and texture to a letter, too. 

7. Don’t forget to include questions to your friend. This isn’t all about Me, Me, Me, remember. Let your imagination run a bit wild. It’s polite to ask after her health, job and family, but why not ask what book she’s reading now, whether she can recommend anything on TV, or simply which dead kings and queens she would invite to a fantasy dinner party. 

8. Sign off enthusiastically. Lots of love is better than ‘best wishes’. But a ‘Yours, from HMP Holloway is always funny (unless of course it’s true). If you really like the friend, why not slip a small bar of chocolate in before sealing the envelope? (Or a visitor’s pass?)

We were inspired to write this blog by a piece in our August ‘Pause’ issue, from The Way Home: Tales From a Life Without Technology by Mark Boyle (Oneworld). Mark, who is pictured above, decided to build a cabin on his smallholding and avoid technology (so no phone calls, emails or texts). He spends every Sunday evening writing replies to all the letters he receives during the week.

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our August issue…

More writing inspiration…

Geography corner | Clipsham stone

Learn something new with our one-minute Geography primer

Question: What links Parliament, Windsor Castle, York Minster and a market town in Lincolnshire? 

Answer: Clipsham Stone. 

All three iconic buildings, as well as the Lincolnshire market town of Stamford, were built using the beautiful, honey-coloured Clipsham Stone. 

Clipsham is similar to Bath stone in that it’s an oolotic* limestone formed in the Jurassic era. It’s produced in an area around the village of Clipsham (yep, clue’s in the name) in Rutland, and the stone is known for its resilience, particularly in the acidic conditions of large cities, where smog might damage other stones. Parliament was originally built from Anston limestone from West Yorkshire but it was later replaced with the more hardy Clipsham stone, picked to be able to stand up to London’s sulphurous emissions from all the factories and houses. 

Clipsham has been used in many Oxford Colleges and other notable buildings, but its earliest use was for the building of Windsor castle between 1363 and 1368. It was also used for the beautiful honeyed Georgian buildings of Stamford, home to many a British costume drama. It’s said Colin Firth lived on a diet of Clipsham stone in the early nineties.**

In our August issue, you can take a virtual tour of Stamford in our ‘My Neighbourhood’ piece. We think you’ll be searching out local B&Bs quicker than we can say ‘early Autumn weekend break’. Enjoy!

*Oolots are small, egg-shaped grains that form by gradually building up layers, the same way hailstones do.

** It isn’t.

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our August issue…

More interesting things to know about…

Science | why lavender calms

We all know that our lavenders blue (dilly dilly) make us feel a bit sleepy, but why?

The scent of lavender has long been used to make us feel relaxed or sleepy. And apparently, it’s not only the association with vast fields in Provence, swaying in a purple haze. Nope. Lavender’s benefits have proper scientific roots. 

It’s all to do with linalool, a fragrant alcohol found in lavender extract. Researchers at Kagoshima University in 2018 found that mice exposed to the smell showed fewer signs of anxiety. 

Linalool interacts with the neurotransmitter (or chemical messenger), GABA (gamma aminobutyric acid), to quieten the brain and nervous system, which makes the whole body feel more relaxed. 

However, while the effects of lavender on the brain were accepted, until recently, it was not known what the ‘sites of action’ (where it got in) were of linalool.

The Kagoshima experiment found that mice who had no sense of smell did not experience the same anti-anxiety effects when sniffing lavender as mice that could smell, thus proving that the effect of linalool is on the olfactory neurons in the nose, rather than on the bloodstream via the lungs, as previously thought. 

So, once the smell hits the olfactory neurons, messages are sent via long ‘wires’ to neurons in a part at the front of the brain called the ‘olfactory bulb’, which also stores memories and emotion. From here, GABA gets involved and when GABA attaches to a protein in your brain known as a GABA receptor, it produces a calming effect. Messages are sent to various parts of the nervous system, relaxing the entire body. 

If you’ve not found all that information terribly relaxing, you might want to just pop a few drops of lavender essential oil on your pillow. Or why not pick up a copy of our July ‘Embrace’ issue, which has a feature by Lia Leendertz on recipes that use foraged lavender. We particularly like the lavender and blueberry buns. One of them is enough to relax us right into a nice nap of an afternoon.

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our July issue…

More lovely lavender…

Celebrate | Independent Bookshops Week

We’re going to be frank: if you don’t love a good bookshop there’s something wrong with you

Let’s face it: all bookshops are magical places, but an independent bookshop is always a particularly welcome find. Unbound by the policy of huge companies, an indie can do pretty much what it likes, catering to the needs of its local community and selling bestsellers alongside books that might otherwise not see the light of day.

Today marks the start of Independent Bookshops Week (15-22 June. Follow @booksaremybag for more information). The week is run by The Booksellers’ Association and aims to celebrate one-off bookshops with events, readings, signings, literary lunches and much more.

Pictured is one of our favourite bookshops, in Lewes, East Sussex. Bag of Books is actually a children’s bookshop but is irresistible, not just for browsing new children’s titles for gifts, but also for unearthing old childhood favourites. Like many towns in the UK, Lewes is home to several indie bookshops so is well worth a weekend trip if you aren’t local. But we’d love to hear about your independent bookshops, wherever you are in the UK this week.

Comment below to tell us about your favourite independent bookshop and what makes it so brilliant. We’ll pick the author our favourite recommendation and send a lovely book from our shelves as a thank you.

Off you go… And SSSSSHHHHHH! We’re trying to read!

More from our June issue…

More for bookworms…

Etymology: jukebox

Photography: Jonathan Cherry

Because words are important (and rather fun, too)

Jolly jukeboxes - they conjure up images of 1950s American teens, jiving around milk bars, or perhaps a memory of pubs in the late 1980s where you could spend 20p selecting a careful playlist of Bros’s Drop The Boy, back to back with Rod Stewart’s Maggie May.

But, interestingly, the roots of the word ‘jukebox’ go much further back and much further afield. Specifically, to the Sea Islands, just off the Carolinas where a tongue known as ‘Gullah’, a creole of several West African languages and English, which grew up around slaves, was brought to the region in the 18th century.

In Gullah, the word ‘jook’ meant disorderly or living wickedly. A jook house was a sort of dance hall, gaming room and brothel, rolled into one. Wicked indeed! And not a spot for a quiet evening out with religious folk, but much fun if you wanted a dance, a cup of moonshine and perhaps something even more ‘jook’. The term was first written down in the 1930s but probably goes back much further.

The first jukeboxes, back in the 1890s, were known by many names, but mostly ‘nickel-in-the-slot machines’ and the term ‘jukebox’ was first recorded in Time magazine, referencing the jook houses of the period: “Glenn Miller attributes his crescendo to the juke-box’, which retails recorded music at 5c a shot in bars, restaurants and small roadside dance joints.”

So there we have jukeboxes: making the journey from wicked (as in evil) to wicked (as in wonderful). Don’t even get us started on the etymology of that one.

We do love a jukebox. If you do, too, don’t miss our ‘analogue’ feature, which takes a look back at the inventiveness and craftsmanship of life before the digital age and this month features a company manufacturing jukeboxes.

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our May issue…

More fascinating historical things…

What do memories smell like?

Why your nose is the door to nostalgia

Ever sniffed the air in a good bakery and been transported instantly back to sitting by your grandmother’s Aga? Or walked into a primary school and found the smell of utilitarian floors and Dettol made you feel six again?

It’s really more surprising if this hasn’t happened to you, as smell is the most evocative of all our senses. Because our language is not so rich in words to describe smells as it is sights or sounds, they are harder to pinpoint and describe but smells work more efficiently with our brains to evoke memories than anything we see or hear.

The US journal Cerebral Cortex found that the reason for this is that our brains log smells away in the area used for storing long-term memories. In fact, we are able to recall twice as many memories when they are associated with a smell as when they aren’t.

This will be why shops and would-be house vendors bake bread - in hopes of transporting you to a time when you felt safe and at home, hoping your purse will fall open during this reverie. Too bad if your mum only ever bought Hovis and the only time you smelled bread in the oven was at your most-disliked aunt’s house…

And it’s true, smell can evoke very negative memory responses too. The scent of an ex-boyfriend’s brand of aftershave might make you feel heartbroken (or just furious) all over again, 20 years after he dumped you for Carol with the bad perm.

Whether smells take you back to happy times or upsetting ones, we’ve been fascinated this month by what smells evoke strong nostalgic responses in you. The Simple Things staff listed everything from specific brands of shampoo, to cut grass to horse manure among theirs! We’d love you to share yours with us in the comments below, too.

If you’d like to learn more about the power of scent, in our April issue, our ‘Know a Thing or Two’ feature is all about essential oils. It’s in the shops now. Just don’t go down the bakery aisle while you’re there or who knows what you’ll come back with. Freshly baked apple puff, anyone?

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our April issue…

More things to make you think…

British Summer Time: a brief history

When you put your clocks forward this Sunday spare a thought for the man who began it all

Talk of adopting different times in summer has been discussed since ancient times and Benjamin Franklin, one of the founding father’s of the United States even mooted the idea of everyone getting up a bit earlier in summer. Franklin is often credited with being the inventor of daylight saving but in fact, the chap we really have to thank is one William Willett of Chislehurst, Kent.

Willett was out riding his horse early one summer’s morning in Petts Wood, he noticed how many blinds were still down and began mulling the idea of daylight saving.

In 1907 he published a pamphlet called ‘The Waste of Daylight’, in which Willett proposed that all clocks should be moved forward by 20 minutes at 2am each Sunday in April and then back by 20 minutes at 2am each Sunday in September. It’s not a bad idea, and does negate the loss of a large chunk of sleep on ‘move the clocks’ day in Spring. Though we’d be quite sad to lose our extra hour in bed come October, it must be said.

Progress was slower than a watched clock, however, and by the time Willett’s plan was gaining the required support, World War I was on the horizon.

So eventually, it was not until 1916 that the Summer Time Act was passed, introducing British Summer Time as being GMT plus one hour and Dublin Mean Time plus one hour.

Sadly, and rather ironically, this came too late for William Willett who died in early 1915. If only he could have turned the hands of the clocks back just a little more.

Since 2002 the Act has specified the last Sunday in March as the beginning of British Summer Time. We’ll miss the hour in bed but like Willett, we’ll be glad of the extra light evenings. We might even take our horses for a little trot around the village in the semi-light dawn to celebrate.

In our March issue, our regular ‘Analogue’ feature is about a horologist and her love of clocks and watches. The issue is on sale now.

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our March issue

More history to think about…

Why we love: rereading childhood books

Losing yourself in a good book is one of life’s great pleasures… rediscovering an old one is pure joy

In our March issue, to celebrate World Book Day, some of The Simple Things’ staff have talked about their favourite childhood books.

We’d love to hear about the books that have stayed with you since childhood, too - why you loved them, whether you have reread them as an adult, and what it was about them that made them so special. Please share your Malory Towers memories, Narnia nostalgia and Roald Dahl reminiscences with us in the comments below.

To whet your appetite, here’s our Blog Editor, Iona Bower’s choice:

The Borrowers 
by Mary Norton

Read by Iona Bower (blog editor) aged seven

Who, when they are small, could fail to love a story about little people lording it over big people? I was completely rapt by this tale of tiny folk who lived beneath the kitchen floor, making use of the everyday items of ‘human beans’ and repurposing them: cotton reels to sit on, matchboxes for chests of drawers… to this day I’d still love a living room decorated with giant paper made from sheets of handwritten letters.  

The book’s a proper thriller, too; I devoured the second half in more or less one go. It’s also a tale that never ages. Published in 1952, read it now and you’d swear it was an allegory for the current refugee crisis. I’ve read it as an adult, and what struck me was the very complex narrative structure for a children’s book. It has a framed narrative (which I credit for my later obsession with Wuthering Heights). It’s told by someone called ‘Kate’ but you’re never sure if that is her name, and she’s recounting a story by Mrs May, who is in turn recounting 
her brother’s story of meeting the borrowers. Still with us? Good. Because the story ends halfway through the book. The rest is mere conjecture. 

And that’s what I love about it. You know nothing. It’s a huge leap of faith but no one reads The Borrowers (even the gut-wrenching twist of a last line, which I won’t reveal) and doesn’t ‘just know’ they are real. My son read it at the same age. I knew he’d finished it when he came thundering downstairs demanding: “Are there more Borrowers books? It says in the back that there are. Are the borrowers real? Are they ok?”  And I said, “I don’t know. You’d better read the others and decide.” The Borrowers is a book that makes readers. Give that Mary Norton a medal

More reading joy…

More from our March issue…

Small acts of kindness

We’re marking National Random Acts of Kindness Day today. We all need to look out for each other. Here are a few little things that can make somebody’s day.

• Phone someone for a chat

• Remember birthdays and don’t just text, send a card

• Leave a note, even when you’ve not much to say

• Set an extra place at the table for someone on their own

• Give a homegrown bag of veg or posy of flowers...

• ...or simply offer your time and a slice of cake

What would you add? Tell us at over on Facebook or Twitter or in the comments below.

This blog was first published in June 2017 but we’ve shared it again for National Random Acts of Kindness Day.

More from the February issue:

More thoughtful ideas:

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

View the sampler here.

Think: Love mindfully

Valentine’s Day might feel a bit yucky and commercial but showing someone you care doesn’t have to involve candlelit twosomes or cheesy cards. Say it with actions instead.

Appreciate – what most people want is to be understood and valued. Making people feel good about themselves is a key element in mindful loving.

Accept – you need to let go of your opinions sometimes. Remember agreeing to disagree is an option!

Listen – put your phone down, stop rummaging through your bag and really give somebody your undivided attention. Everybody deserves to be listened to. Empathise – remember that other people are just as complicated as you are.

Laugh – you can’t be angry, sad or anxious when you’re laughing and it’s the quickest defuser of rows.

Respect – each other’s need for independence as well as togetherness. Try to be perceptive.

Passion – love shouldn’t just be directed at one person. It can be a passion and energy for friends, family, humanity – any of life’s pleasures. Practise it whenever you can. 

Read More Time to Think by Nancy Kline (Cassell, £11.99) and The Little Book of Love by Tiddy Rowan (Quadrille, £5.99) 

This post was first published on Valentines Day 2015.

More from our February issue…

How to: make a little birdhouse in your soul

Like a confusing song lyric? So do we! Read on to learn more

Let’s take a step back in time. It’s 1989. You’ve been to Woolies for your pick ‘n’ mix and to spend your pocket money. And you’ve bought the single by They Might Be Giants, ‘Make a Little Birdhouse in your Soul’... And after 12 plays, you’re none the wiser as to what the hell this song is all about.

In fact, after 30 years, you’re still none the wiser. To celebrate national bird box week, which starts today, we’re unpicking the mystery for you and helping you make a little birdhouse in your soul.

The first thing you need to know is that this is a story told from the perspective of a nightlight. Yes. A nightlight:

“Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you”

You’re probably a child because the nightlight’s job is to comfort you in the dark, and the nightlight is shaped like a blue canary  (apparently this was an Actual Thing). The nightlight is in your bedroom so it’s a bit like a night time friend, glowing over there by the plug socket.

“I'm your only friend
I'm not your only friend
But I'm a little glowing friend
But really I'm not actually your friend
But I am”

So it’s not a ‘real’ friend, but it’s a friend to you in that it lights your bedroom in the dark. But it’s not sure… Or is it sure? Still with us? Hold tight.

Opposite the blue canary is a picture of a lighthouse:

“There's a picture opposite me
Of my primitive ancestry
Which stood on rocky shores
And kept the beaches shipwreck-free
Though I respect that a lot
I'd be fired if that were my job
After killing Jason off
And countless screaming Argonauts”

The little nightlight knows he’d be rubbish at the job of being a lighthouse; but fortunately his job is here, watching over you at night time. He values the role and your friendship so much, in fact, he wants you to make a little birdhouse in your soul for him to live in. Not only that, he also suggests you:

“Leave the nightlight on
Inside the birdhouse in your soul”

… so you’ll be extra cosy, maybe? So you’ll have a warm glow in your heart? So he can live in your soul? Maybe don’t think about this too hard…

There are many and various theories on the meaning of the song, from it being about Greek mythology to being sung by a demon. The song’s writer, John Linnell, however, said: "'Birdhouse In Your Soul' is a song about a night light. That's it. It's written from the perspective of a night light serenading the occupant of its room. The thing is, there are so many syllables in the songs that we had to come up with something to fill the spaces. So it ends up being kind of Gilbert and Sullivany." Illuminating. Almost as illuminating as a night light.

It’s a beautifully weird and weirdly beautiful little song though. There can’t be many songs that made the top 10 that are told from the perspective of a night light. In fact, we’d hazard a guess that this is the only one. Worth making space in your soul for.

And now you’re feeling inspired to make a little birdhouse, and it being National Nest Box week, read our feature in the February issue on birdhouses and make a little birdhouse in your garden, too.

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from the February issue…

More ways to love wildlife…

Why you never forget your first record

First records, like first loves, stay with you, no matter how embarrassing they were

‘What was the first record you bought?’ It’s a question that tells you so much about a person: their age, where in the country they grew up, their (sometimes questionable) taste… It’s a revealing ask.

The Simple Things’ Guy Foreman took us on a trip down Memory Lane in our ‘What I Treasure’ feature in the February issue (on sale now) and told us about his much-treasured record collection, and by the time he’d finished writing it we were all eagerly sharing stories of our first record purchases. So we thought we’d share a few of them with you, too.

Here, some of the staff of The Simple Things bare their (De La) Souls and more. Like Jarvis Cocker, do you remember the first time?

“I bought my first single from HMV in Enfield when I was about eight or nine. Nik Kershaw, 'I won't let the sun go down on me' (7-inch). The importance of 'buying something' definitely overshadowed the importance of which single it was. I can still see the sleeve - it was pale blue with a cutout of heart-throb Nik on the cover. With that hair style, he was quite hard to cut out, I'd imagine.”

Kate Pettifer, Chief Sub

“Mine was Shakin Stevens ‘Shaky’ album. My brother bought it me for Christmas. I remember begging him to tell me what my present was and he kept giving me clues – he said it was black and round and plastic. I couldn’t guess and was so excited when I opened it and saw Shaky on the cover in his pink jacket. I played in on my parents’ record player whenever I had the opportunity. My brother was seven years older than me so Shaky was definitely not his bag but I remember he was very good about pretending to enjoy ‘Green Door’ on replay.”

Rebecca Frank, Commissioning Editor

“Mine was the single 'Especially For You' by Kylie and Jason. I believe I was nine and on holiday in Cornwall. The shop was probably an Our Price. There was no record player in the holiday cottage and I didn't have a record player of my own anyway so when I got home, if I wanted to play it I had to ask my parents' permission to use theirs before putting it on and standing awkwardly in front of their record player, listening for the two or three minutes required, then putting it back in its sleeve and taking it back to my room. The long winter evenings in Surrey just flew by.”

Iona Bower, Blog Editor

“It was 1998. I was seven and the shop was Sydney Scarborough in Hull. This weekend’s treat was going into town with my Grandma to buy a single I wanted. Only problem was….. I didn’t actually know what it was called… only a brief line or two of the song. The guy working there played me more or less every song in the top 40 to see if it jogged my memory. When we got to the end he gave me an ultimatum. “That’s your lot… you’re going to have to sing it for me.” Knowing this was my only chance to get the single I wanted I took a breath and let out in a  hushed but rhythmic tone: “Pretty Fly for a white guy.” He took off down one of the aisles and came back holding a single… Placed the headphones back on my head and popped the disc into the player. I grinned and shimmied along. My grandma handed over the money and I left proudly clutching my first single: The Offspring’s ‘Pretty Fly For A White Guy’. Much to my parent’s horror.”

Oliva O’Connor, Subscription Manager

“The first record I bought with my own money was Blondie – ‘Parallel Lines’. I’ve still got it and it’s still a great album. Ace cover with beyond-cool Debbie Harry and those boys all lined up behind her. It was released in 1978 (I’m sure I didn’t get it when it first came out or anything so it was probably the following year when I was 11). I went to Bostock Records in the Pack Horse Centre in Huddersfield. They had album-sized square carrier bags with their logo on the side – a proper badge of honour to be carrying one round of a Saturday afternoon. It was the only place to buy records in town apart from upstairs at WH Smith’s, which was where your mum went. I remember feeling like I was practically a teenager for being so grown-up and owning a record that wasn’t ABBA or Boney M that had been bought for me. With hindsight this was probably the most hip I ever got.”

Lisa Sykes, Editor

We’d love to hear your memories of your first records, too. Do share them with us in the comments below. And when you pick up your Feburary issue to read all about Guy’s treasured vinyl, don’t miss our regular feature ‘analogue’ which this month is all about vinyl, as we visit Relics, a vintage audio and record shop in Bristol.

Your Simple Things needs YOU!

What I Treasure is our series in which readers tell us about something that matters most to them. From dusty cookbooks to treasured letters, we’ve seen all sorts of prized possessions. Tell us about yours in 500 words by emailing thesimplethings@icebergpress.co.uk and you could see your ‘treasure’ gracing our pages.

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More things we have treasured…

More from our February issue…

How to: Party like a Viking

In this very special The Simple Things ‘Gathering’ we share some ideas for celebrating the ‘the lightening of the year’, Viking style. Gather your closest com-raiders to mark the depths of winter with ‘a great shout of anger at the darkness’.

Fancy a few (thousand) friends round for a simple (read: mostly booze) supper? January’s the time to celebrate like a Viking. In Shetland, they celebrate Up Helly Aa, or ‘the lightening of the year’ by getting quite angry with the darkness and lighting, feasting and revelling to really show the dark who’s boss.

Light a few (hundred) fires, get in some (tons) of good food and a few (gallons of) drinks and let the good times roll. And the good news is, if you don’t survive, at least you won’t have to deal with any of those greasy baking trays you left to soak in the morning! Here’s all you need to know to throw a gathering like a true Viking:

Carriages at… whenever, really

Don’t embarrass yourself by suggesting a departure time. A few days should cover it but if you’re doing a proper celebration we recommend you set aside 12 days and nights. If you’re expected in the office, we’d suggest you book the full three weeks off. You’ll probably need it for clearing up. If you don’t have an understanding boss, simply set the venue on fire as you leave (yes, even if it’s your house) and turn up to work with the faint smell of woodsmoke and ale about you. Job done.

Don’t expect RSVPs

Just cater for a crowd. Expect folk to BYOB too. They’re Vikings, not heathens, after all. You can rely on no one turning up empty-handed. You probably can’t rely on them not drinking the place dry, however

With food, go big or go home

Forget previous beliefs about a nice ‘centrepiece’. Just slaughter every animal in sight and roast it or boil it, and stick it all out. Vikings don’t really do ‘amuse bouches’ so just sling it all on the table: stews, meats, platters of roasted veg, breads, cheeses etc… Think of it as a ‘sharing platter’ style… with little emphasis on the sharing and more on the ‘melee’ aspect.

What about tipples?

Think more ‘topple’ than ‘tipple’. You’ll be expected to serve meads, beers, ales and some fruit wines (for the ladies, perhaps). Don’t worry about glass hire. Flagons will suffice. The key with booze is quantity over quality. Be prepared for toasts. A LOT OF TOASTS.

But might my guests be doing Dry January?

No. No they won’t.

Should I consider a playlist?

A bit of Scandi Death Metal should do it. Your actual choices of artist, however, aren’t nearly as important as the ear-splitting volume at which music is delivered. Try our January Playlist if you’re stuck for ideas. And turn it up to 11.

After dinner games?

Put Trivial Pursuit away. You shall not be needing it. If you’re lucky your guests will settle for a nice game of Viking Chess or a ‘poetry-off’. But remember, it’s not about how you play the game, it’s about WINNING. If you’re unlucky, the games could be a little more, erm, brutal… One-on-one tug-of-wars known as ‘toga-honk’ are popular, as are weight-lifting, sword-fighting and even a rather jolly ‘swimming contest’ in which opponents are held underwater for as long possible. Festive!

Should I expect a thank-you note?

Thank yous are not generally directed to the host, more to the Gods. Have a few sacrifices on standby in case you have need of pleasing the Gods for fair weather or a good harvest, for example. A few birds and animals should do it and keep the chaps up there (or down below) happy.

In our January issue, we are celebrating Up Helly Aa, a Viking-style feast celebrated on the last Tuesday in January in Shetland We have an extract from Shetland: Cooking on the Edge of the World by James Morton of Bake Off fame and his father Tom (Quadrille), which includes a recipe for an Up Helly Aa Hangover Mulled Ale. The issue is in shops now.

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More from our January issue…

More Gathering inspiration for all year round…

New Year’s Resolutions

No need to get out of bed just yet…

New year, new you, right? But just how long will your resolve last? Before you take the plunge, check out the ECT (Estimated Commitment Time) for these top five resolutions.

● ‘I will exercise three times a week.’
Jogging in January. What could be wrong with that plan? 
ECT: two weeks.

● ‘I will only drink alcohol at the weekends.’ 
January again. What other time in the year are you going to need a pint of Malbec more? 
ECT: one week.

● ‘No more chocolate!’ 
Yes, that means no hot chocolate, too. Or the kids’ leftover variety packs. Or mints. We don’t care if they’re only wafer thin! 
ECT: two to three weeks.

●‘I’m giving up swearing.’ 
Your car won’t start in the dark at half six on a freezing morning. What do you say? Exactly. 
ECT: one week.

● ‘I will meditate every morning.’
Yeah, or you could just have an extra ten minutes in bed. 
ECT: four days.

Resolution to read more? Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

From our January issue…

More new year inspiration…

My simple thing: Christmas lights

Sitting with just the Christmas tree lights on - @katecpettifer's simple thing

Usually just before bed, I’ll take a moment to turn off the living room lights so that only the Christmas tree remains lit. Savouring the glow of multicoloured bulbs, reflected in nearby baubles, transports me back to childhood when I did exactly the same thing. A welcome moment of calm that’s still magical.

This was first published in our December issue 2014. Please share your festive simple thing with us below and find lots more quiet moments of magic in our current December issue on sale in the shops now or click the clicky link below…. Merry Christmas!

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

Meet the donkeys of the New Forest

Long-eared lovelies that inspire festive feelings in us all

In our December issue, we have an essay in our magical creatures series about the donkey, an animal close to our hearts, and never more than at this time of year.

But while, as George Orwell once said (almost), all donkeys are equal, but some are more equal than others.

The wild donkeys of the New Forest are just a little bit special and the area is one of the best places in Britain to see donkeys in the wild. The forest is best known for its wild ponies (and is also home to wild pigs and cows) but its 200 wild donkeys are a real treat to spot.

They are hardy enough to survive all year round in the New Forest, but according to the New Forest’s management,  they aren’t always popular with the neighbours and are regularly found scoffing hedges, trees and bushes around neighbouring properties. The more enterprising among them are apparently often to be found at the Foresters’ Arms in Frogham and other local ale yards and hostelries. In the village of Beaulieu they apparently gather around the Montagu Arms. Presumably when they emerge after a few ales they are wonky donkeys?

Once, a New Forest donkey wandered uninvited into a branch of Tesco, much to the amusement of Brockenhurst residents. He was found, standing in the middle of the store, looking around him in a bemused fashion. Staff managed to shoo him out by banging shopping baskets together, which goes to show what a hard time donkeys have, we think. When they’re not carrying pregnant virgins to packed inns, they’re being brutally evicted from supermarkets in the middle of a quiet look at the biscuit aisle.

So here’s to the New Forest donkeys, reminding us once more why their kind are as Christmassy as crackers and sherry, and just as cheering, too.

If you’re in the area this Christmas give them a pat and a carrot from us - but don’t give them your shopping list. They can’t be trusted.

Read more about donkeys in Magical Creatures, in our December issue, on sale now.

Get hold of your copy of this month's The Simple Things - buy, download or subscribe

More winterspiration…

More from our December issue…