I never wanted to get married. I never saw the point; we loved each other, that was enough for me. But I did, and despite being married for nearly nineteen years, I’m still not sure I’m any good at it.

Marriage was initially a practical tool to secure property rights, create family alliances, and to know the biological heirs. And it’s only been a few hundred years since marriage shifted from logic to love. But here we all are, still getting married.

I’m bemused when younger couples choose to get married; haven’t they seen enough grumpy older couples or the effects of divorce to put them off? I’m guessing it’s the same when you decide to have children; you think yours won’t be like those children. I do wonder if they’re really getting married for the long haul or the excitement of the event. Hen and stag dos, destination weddings, pre-wedding dinners, the dresses, the dance routines and months of solid social media content. What I’m really hoping, though, is that in this crazy world, they’ve learnt to grasp hold of the good stuff and never let it go.

I recently bumped into a friend who excitedly shared that her eldest daughter is marrying her boyfriend of four years. The wedding is next year; her daughter will be twenty-two when she gets married.

Twenty-two! They’ve been together four years already!

I’m here for love and commitment, but if she lives into her eighties, she could be married for sixty-plus years! Reaching her diamond anniversary, one of the rarest milestones and receiving a message from the King to say Well done you. I’m not sure if that’s even a goal anymore, let alone an achievable one. Is a long, happy marriage even possible in modern life?

Modern marriage is not easy. The expectation to build a life that looks good adds pressure to a marriage, the thing that can break the love. Buy a home. Get a good job to afford it. Make a family. Get a bigger home. Get a better job to afford it. Before you know it, your priorities have changed; you don’t see each other because you’re working hard to afford the home you never spend time in, and life is slowly sucked out of the love at every mortgage repayment.

The pressure cooker is turned on and the timer set to a lifetime.

If we do manage to stay together through our twenties, thirties and forties, are the fifties our biggest challenge?

Over the years, only two of my friends have got divorced, both within a few years of getting married. One realised he was a walking sperm donor, and the other, his wife’s fiery personality that he initially found so attractive, backfired and burnt him. However, this past month alone, I’ve found out that three couples are separating.

There are many reasons why couples divorce, and I doubt outsiders know the full truth of what broke the bond that once felt strong enough to declare till death do us part. But my friends’ most recent divorces all had a commonality: they were all in their mid-fifties and their youngest child was leaving for university. The infamous ‘grey divorce’ had struck. The realisation they could potentially be spending the remainder of their good years trapped in a dull marriage with someone they no longer knew or actually liked. Every unresolved pissed-off moment where they felt unappreciated, or unfairly treated, quietly eroded their friendship, love, and sexual chemistry.

A close friend faced this issue. She decided to divorce after realising the man she married was not the same man she was married to. She got ready to enjoy her freedom after years of mothering, dreaming of selling up and travelling the world. Whereas he dreamt of selling up to buy a small bungalow so he could slow down after working hard most of his life and potter in the garden.

My kids are fuming at the Baby Boomers and Gen Xs for making house prices unaffordable. But maybe we’ve helped them dodge a bullet by avoiding the pressures of a long mortgage or the original meaning dead pledge. Hopefully, they’ll completely miss out on the monotony of midlife, where one partner hides in the shed while the other redecorates the spare bedroom again because they’re bored.

As the years stack up, to avoid contempt and resentment stacking up too, should we renew our marriage licence like our driving licence? Each partner has a get-out-of-marriage-for-free card when it’s time for renewal. Similar to those awful marriage reality TV shows, where in the final moment, the couples are asked, “Will you stay married?”

I know life isn’t that simple, and we all have annoying things called emotions, but it might make us work harder at our relationships, worrying if our partner will say yes on the day or happily call it quits and skip off into the sunset to start over.

I recently shared a piece on my realisation that I possibly wasn’t such a good wife, and it was popular. The comments mainly centred around the expected roles within a marriage and who should or shouldn’t do what. I wonder how many of those readers were actually in long-term marriages and whether their comments were in hindsight, and they were sharing what they’d learned the hard way.

I am glad I got married. My husband’s surname is way nicer than my maiden name. I have no wise words on a modern marriage to share other than do life together on your terms, however that might look. Living separately, sleeping separately, holidaying separately, never marrying, not having children, never buying a home, maybe having an open relationship.

And if you’re lucky enough to find someone you like, not just love or find attractive, be nice to them. Speak up when you’re disgruntled. And apologise… properly. I had to Google how, remember, I’m rubbish at marriage. The most important thing: make each other laugh often. Without humour, life together will be very dull.

Some people ask the secret of our long marriage. We take time to go to a restaurant two times a week. A little candlelight, dinner, soft music and dancing. She goes on Tuesdays; I go on Fridays.

Henny Youngman

*I’d love to hear from younger generations and their thoughts on marriage. If you haven’t read it already, here’s the article I refer to:

When I got home, I shared the story with my husband, that on one very normal Tuesday evening, the husband arrived home from work and announced to his wife that he hadn’t been happy for some time and that he was leaving her.

They’d been married for 22 years and had two children together. My husband and I have been together a similar amount of time and also have two children.

The woman in the story was in her early fifties. I am nearly 52.

She originally started at the company part-time as a receptionist, with an average wage, but it meant that she could still look after their kids. Allowing her husband to pursue his career. I, too, never went back to full-time work after my daughters were born. Choosing jobs that I could fit in around childcare, while my husband built his business.

As her children grew older, she started to become more involved at work and built a career for herself, and with that, she learned more about herself, became more confident, and finally felt comfortable in her own skin. My children are also old enough now that I can focus on a career that feels true to me. I also feel comfortable in my own skin. A combination of age, early menopause, and therapy, I’ve built my self-worth, and don’t really care what anyone thinks of me.

They had made plans to move to France as they were nearly mortgage-free. She thought they were on the same page. My husband and I make plans for our future regularly, and moving to the sea. I think we’re on the same page.

She had finally stepped out of the shade into the sun and loved every ounce of the warmth on her skin. She thought they were good.

Then he left her.

After finishing the story, I went on a little rant about how awful that he could do that, she’d put her life on hold while he climbed the career ladder…

My husband is a deep thinker, kind, and always manages to see both sides of the story. Which at times drives me nuts, especially if I want him to take my side. Paused, he then said, “It’s probably because he felt irrelevant.”

I stopped mid-rant. I think my mouth dropped open a little. Irrelevant?

I thought he‘d say, how he’s probably having an affair with Jemma from accounts, or eye-roll at another stereotypical 50-something-year-old man. No, he could see how the husband might have felt in the marriage.

Irrelevant was such an interesting choice of words to use. Is feeling seen and heard just a fancier way to say it? We’ve all become aware of the importance of feeling seen and heard, for ourselves and others. Is a solid relationship built on how relevant you feel within it?

What does being irrelevant in a marriage look like?

My husband has never made me feel irrelevant.

We’ve been married for 18 years, but together for over 25. When we met, we both had growing careers in our chosen fields, mine admittedly was climbing quicker than his, but he soon caught up, as he realised that weekends were more fun if we could both afford to do things.

He never criticised the wage imbalance in my favour and still proudly reminds anyone that when we met, I was earning more than him.

When our first daughter was born, he took a couple of months off. And again, when our second daughter was born. Seeing that we needed more funds to feed our growing family, he left his well-paid job and started his own business.

Those next few years, he sacrificed seeing us, working late into the night, and leaving early the next morning. I wasn’t the easiest wife to come home to. Understandably, I was tired, lonely, and frustrated as my lovely husband was replaced by two demanding children.

My husband always made me feel seen and heard. Especially in those early baby days, when my identity was in shatters. He would see me. He knew what I needed and did it. But had I done the same for him?

I’m sure most mothers at some point have felt irrelevant. My name became so irrelevant; I was only known by many as Elsie or Poppy’s mum. Did my husband feel like his name was dropped, too? Did I make him feel like a wage packet and a babysitter, as I’d regularly escape the second he got home? Finally free to go to the gym, see friends, or just breathe somewhere other than the house. He always encouraged and never complained.

Writing this, I questioned whether I am on the same trajectory as the wife in the story. The kids are older, my husband is now semi-retired, and as he’s home more, I’m freer than ever. I can literally walk out the door, and no one will die. Is there a midlife crisis waiting to happen for me, too?

I braved it and asked my husband if he felt irrelevant.

Yes was his answer.

Gulp.

Looking back over the early years, it’s not really a revelation. But what about now?

Every day, I work hard to make my children feel seen and heard; why hadn’t I made my husband, too? In my line of work, I’ve seen plenty of wives make their husbands feel irrelevant by undermining or belittling them for suggesting something for a home that they lived in, too. I thought those awkward meetings had opened my eyes to how NOT to treat a partner. But here I was. And what if someone else were to make him feel relevant?

I’d messed up. I have a mum who never put her children first. She always put herself or my dad first. I vowed never to do the same for my kids, but had I gone too far?

We live in a house full of girls, even the dogs and hamster are female, so it must be difficult as the only male to shout I matter too! We all generally laugh AT him, not with him. I undermine him with the children and other decisions, without thinking. If the girls need money, they ask me. Not that I ever needed to ask permission, but I very rarely involve him in any decision-making with plans for family holidays, seeing our friends, or spending our money. I just got on with things.

If I’ve ever moaned that I did everything, he would say he doesn’t because I criticise how he does it… I was embarrassed. I could see I was a red flag. Do I need a husband? No, but I like my husband, and I don’t want him to leave. I was slightly surprised he hadn’t left me. I think I’d leave me.

There’s something about middle-aged men and the dishwasher. Despite owning a dishwasher most of our lives together, over the last few years, my husband has become slightly possessive of it. Groaning if it’s stacked ‘terribly’, and being fastidious, how often it’s cleaned, even installing an app to let him know.

Is the dishwasher the only thing at home that makes him feel relevant? Has it come to this? A household appliance is making my husband feel more seen and heard than his wife.

As well as making our partners feel relevant, is there also a lesson to learn about not becoming irrelevant ourselves? Yes, I think there is.

Recently, I’ve had two friends instigate a divorce. Neither friend used the word irrelevant (‘useless’ might have been mentioned a few times). But had their husbands become irrelevant in their marriages? I know one husband was blindsided by the announcement. The other, I think, knew he was irrelevant, but as he liked having someone help look after him, he kept quiet.

I want my husband to feel relevant in our marriage and lives together.

I’m committed to steering our marriage back to calmer waters, where everyone is happy. I haven’t drastically changed anything that I do, only how I go about it. I slow down my thought process and consciously consider my husband’s feelings, rather than just getting on with it.

I genuinely care about what he brings to the table, and I now show it by listening and engaging more. I use the 50/50 rule, where we make decisions and parent as a team. I involve him in plans. Things I would have done naturally before, I now leave him to take control and try not to stick my big nose in.

I feel we are more on the same page than ever, but I continue to check that I don’t slip back into single-player mode. Which happens more often than I realised.

His sticking around isn’t a given, and he, like all of us, deserves to feel very relevant in every relationship.

This might be worth a read too:

Then someone, no names mentioned, walks in the door, shoes still on, puts their bag on top of the work surface and starts to make a sandwich. Your mouth drops open in disbelief. The zesty smell starts to fade and is replaced with the aroma of tinned tuna, and salt & vinegar crisps.

You look at their bag, which you are 99.9% sure has been on the floor in at least one public toilet today. You can sense the invisible germs dragging themselves from the bottom of it and face-planting onto your clean work surface.

You are fuming!!!! Rightly so, housework isn’t called work for nothing.

You lose your shit and start shouting, “TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES, TAKE THE BAG OFF THE SIDE, HANG IT UP. CAN’T YOU WAIT TILL DINNER? MAKE SURE YOU TIDY UP!!!”

The mood in the room is suddenly heavier than the smell of tuna, and the feeling of satisfaction is now a distant memory, replaced with frustration and hurt. You both stomp off to separate rooms, and the dazzling surfaces have lost their shine in every sense.

I see you, and I feel your pain.

The annoying thing is, it’s irrelevant whether the sandwich maker comes into the clean kitchen within five minutes or five hours. Homes are designed to be used; they need to be, and they will get dirty again and again. That’s just life, that’s just a home.

But we’re led to believe that a clean, clutter-free home is the goal. And when you’ve finished achieving it, that’s your moment to praise yourself, relax and feel a little smug. Which is why, when someone uses the kitchen, gets their toys out, goes to the bathroom, or sits on the sofa and throws all the cushions on the floor, your blood starts to boil. The moment to rejoice, fleeting.

If we could change our ingrained way of thinking, see the thing to rejoice in was the moment, not a clean version of home, homelife could be sweeter by avoiding those clashes.

Because the real goal for a home is for everyone to feel safe, physically and emotionally. If it looks good too, well, that’s a bonus.

Let’s start by asking two questions:

Most of us clean and tidy our homes for the people who live in them. But we can get annoyed when they do life in their home. This article isn’t about who does the cleaning or makes a mess in the first place, or putting systems in place to keep your home clean and tidy, but a way to catch your emotional reaction in those moments and see the positive in them instead. A reframe.

Reframing is a psychological technique that helps you see and change how you view a situation, event, or person to change its emotional impact. Rather than denying reality, reframing shifts your mental lens to look at the same facts from a more helpful perspective.

I love a reframe, and some of my favourites to help reduce the emotional reaction to someone using their home and making a mess within the process:

When you can see things from a different perspective, you become more in control of your reactions. Here’s another way of looking at the sandwich scenario:

One. They’re not scared of you, otherwise they wouldn’t throw their bag on top of the work surface or keep their shoes on. This is a good thing, not a lack of respect. We shouldn’t be trying to control our partners, friends, or children through fear.

Two. They’re hungry; food is their focus. They’re not actively trying to piss you off; they just want to eat food in their home.

Three. It’s their home too; just because they’re using the kitchen differently from you doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

Four. They chose to come home. They could have gone somewhere else.

Let’s run the scenario again. You’ve finished cleaning, and someone walks into the kitchen. Dumps their bag and grabs ingredients for a sandwich.

You can see they’re tired and hungry. You might ask what they’re making and if you can help, but you give them the space to do what they need, with no negative commentary.

The atmosphere will feel lighter, and they might even stay for a chat once the sandwich is made. Either way, both parties will feel less hurt and frustrated.

If you do want to discuss the cleaning up afterwards and the bag on the side, now that they’ve eaten, is the time. Calmly ask them to tidy up and remind them you don’t like bags on the side.

If keeping a home in some form of order is to the detriment of your emotional well-being or relationships, or the housework load feels unbalanced, it’s worth having a direct conversation and understanding what is within your control.

I heard Harry Styles say this at one of his recent Wembley concerts, which I think is beautiful:

It made me think about our homes. If we fill our homes with love and happiness, any visitors will feel that and enjoy it too.

We think our guests want to see perfect homes, but what we all really prefer when we visit someone's home is to feel relaxed and feel good to spend time in. Not an edited version in the hope of your validation.

So next time, someone does things a little differently around the home, or they use their home as it’s intended, making a mess that annoys you, do a mental reframe. Can the moment be understood and seen from a more helpful and kind perspective instead?

Your relationships will be stronger, and your home will feel more like home for everyone. No walking on eggshells, no heated moments, no working to invisible rules.

My last house was a cute little cottage, and I designed a cute little girls’ bedroom scheme for my youngest daughter. I bought all the pieces to pull the room together, and as they started to arrive, I showed her.

She hated everything.

As someone who works in interiors, I’d created similar schemes for happy clients and was pleased I had the chance to create something as lovely in my own home. This was the problem. My clients were adults, and I was satisfying my own desires.

What about the kids who were actually sleeping in those rooms? All chosen on their behalf in isolation. I quickly rethought my approach and sent back what I could and donated what I couldn’t.

Kids are sensitive to things that sometimes we adults miss. The Llama head I thought was cute, my daughter thought it was scary, and my squirrel-loving daughter thought the wallpaper baby-ish. Textures, smells, colours, spider-attracting or nightmare-inducing things might not cross our minds, but they are at the forefront of a child’s.

Unfortunately, the child’s bedroom has become a way to showcase the parents’ creativity and imagination, when really, adults have so many other areas in their home and life that they can do this, whereas children spend much of their day being told where to go, how to behave and what to do. Their bedroom is often the first place in their life that feels theirs, and somewhere to explore their own potential in making decisions and expressing themselves freely.

A bedroom is not just somewhere a child sleeps.

Research suggests that giving children a sense of agency and autonomy over their room is far more important than making it look perfect and can help them understand who they are.

When a child chooses the colour of their walls, where their toys go, or which of their things stay on display, they are practising something much bigger than design. They are learning that they matter, that you trust them to make decisions, that you embrace who they are and encourage their self-expression. Children who are trusted learn to trust themselves, too.

These confidence-boosting moments experienced from an early age can stay with them throughout their lives. When children understand self-trust and self-expression, they grow into adults with high psychological resilience, strong personal boundaries and authentic relationships. This early foundation prevents the common pitfalls of self-abandonment and people-pleasing in adulthood.

Self-regulation is also an important part of child development because it helps children cope with everyday struggles, a skill that can have lifelong positive effects. Surrounding themselves with familiar toys, colours and belongings that make them feel safe helps children self-regulate.

Children should associate their bedroom with self-expression, privacy, play, and emotional comfort.

I’m not suggesting you give your child complete free rein. Children grow so quickly, and what they love one day can very quickly be frowned upon the next. But you can still encourage creativity and imagination by providing guidance and clear objectives.

How you decorate or tackle the design together is very dependent on the age and personality of your child, but I recommend keeping it simple:

• Ask what they want their room to look and feel like. Help them create their own design brief to refer back to.

• Allow freedom in choosing the things that can be changed easily, duvet covers, posters, cushions.

• Always ask their opinion before you buy anything for their room.

• Give guided choices instead of endless options, especially if they’re of value, making sure they fit back into their brief.

• Encourage them to touch fabrics and textures before deciding.

• Ask their favourite colours and offer calm, softer tones to choose from.

• Let them help decide the layout.

• Let them decide which toys and loved things get left out and which get tidied away.

• Always check they’re happy with the decision afterwards, and does it answer their brief.

There is some argument that a child responds differently to a colour psychologically if they pick it, but choosing calm tones within their chosen colour will be more regulating than bold primary shades. I will cover this in more detail in future posts.

If you’re looking to design your child’s bedroom, my biggest piece of advice is to leave your ego at the door. It’s easy to get caught up in how other people’s homes look or creating a room that looks beautiful to other adults, but asking your child what they’d like from their room and allowing some say in it may be one of the best things you can do to help develop their sense of self.

If you feel resistant to letting your child be involved in designing their room, it might be worth sitting with those thoughts and getting curious about why. Maybe it’s control, fear of judgment, or simply letting go of what you thought the room would look like.

Their bedroom can still look beautiful without every decision coming from you, and together you’ll create something even more important than the room itself.

If you have any questions, thoughts, or experiences to share, I’d love to hear them.

Thank you for reading, and subscribe if you haven’t already. It would be great to have you follow along.

Claire. x

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When a quiet detail happens that no one else notices but you, it means the world. Being considered by the people we care about is one of the loveliest and most important things we can feel.

Whether you live with children, teenagers, a partner, friends, family, or alone, belonging doesn't arrive in grand Hallmark moments. It happens in the ordinary ones that say: I see you. You matter.

As a parent to two girls, now both teenagers, I spent years thinking I needed to do more to make them feel loved. Taking them religiously to dance and ballet classes, swimming lessons, endless playdates and activities, working hard to do all the things I was ‘supposed’ to do. But when I stopped trying so hard, I realised my daughters needed much simpler things to feel loved and special. Being properly listened to, respected, and included in everyday life did more for their confidence and happiness than anything else.

Years ago, this list would have looked very different, full of tips on organising toys or decorating their bedrooms to look good. There is nothing wrong with either of those things, but making my kids feel important these days looks very different. I asked them what they liked and didn't like growing up, to help me put this together.

The details that will make your kids feel important at home:

- their plates and cups mixed in with yours

- the washing powder smell, they love and associate with home. An important detail when they’re away from it

- their slippers lined up with everyone else’s

- towels and bedding, they chose themselves

- displaying and cherishing the things they make for you

- asking their opinion when choosing things for your home

- asking what does or doesn’t feel nice to touch around the home

- not tidying away their toys if they're in the middle of a game or making something

- letting them choose a family meal

- eating together as often as possible, and giving them undivided attention

- creating a moment each week that’s theirs. Ours was movie night in my bed with hot chocolate and Friday night sweets they’d picked after school. They still ask for Friday night sweets at 14 & 17!

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Teenagers sometimes get a hard time, but I love watching my girls grow into young women. Their fierce opinions and different outlook on the world have taught me so much. Sometimes, teenagers want to join in; sometimes they don’t. What matters is that they always know they're invited.

The details that will make your teenagers feel included at home:

- a seat at the table, always

- their own washing basket

- choosing the washing powder they love the smell of

- knocking before entering their bedroom

- accepting that their bedroom might not be as tidy as you’d like

- bringing them hot chocolate in their favourite mug while they're studying

- involving them in planning or cooking meals

- meals together without phones for everyone

- letting them decorate their room how they want

- giving them a full-length mirror

- running them a bath if they’ve had a bad day

- displaying the things they make for you; it really slows down as they get older. I miss their smudgy fingerprint art

- taking their opinions seriously when discussing things for the home

- create moments to bring everyone together

- having seating nearby so they can still feel included without fully joining in

- leaving homework or projects where they are if they’re still working on them

- trusting them to put the dog out, lock the doors and turn the lights off if they’re the last one up to bed

It’s easy to forget about ourselves or our partners when life is busy. But small, quiet details can say ‘I love you’ without needing words.

The details that will make you feel considered in your home:

- making your first cup of tea or coffee of the day

- putting your bowl and spoon out ready for breakfast

- saving your favourite seat

- keeping all your essentials on the bedside table

- having your loved art, photos on display and books on the bookshelves

- emptying the laundry basket or dishwasher without having to ask

- a light left on when you come home late

- your favourite snacks, food, and drinks included in the weekly shop

- having a party on a plate for dinner, so you don’t need to cook

- allowing your things to live around the home, and not tidied away instantly

- everyone waits until you sit down before starting to eat

- being properly listened to at mealtimes

Living alone doesn’t mean you don’t deserve consideration, too. It can come from the way you care for yourself and your home. Treat yourself as you would a lovely friend, preempt the bad days, notice what you need, and don't wait for a special occasion.

The details that will make you feel special if you live alone:

- all your favourite memories on display

- making mealtimes special with your favourite plate, napkin and the posh glass

- something else living and depending on you: a plant, a pet

- a lamp on a timer so you don’t come home to the dark

- flowers when you want

- buying the nice olive oil, the good bread, and the favourite wine

- saying no and staying in when that’s what you need

- your favourite bedding freshly washed and waiting at the end of a tough week

- kitchen dance party for one

- breakfast for dinner because you can

- making the bed, or not. Your call

- invite your favourite people over regularly

- getting to know your neighbours

- becoming part of your local community

We can extend all of this to our guests, too. Making your friends feel welcome comes down to noticing what they need before they have to ask.

The details that will make your friends feel welcome:

- showing them where to leave their coat, where to sit and put their drink

- placing a rug under the dining table if you’re a shoes-off house

- soft, fresh hand towels in the bathroom

- using scents: soap, candles, or a diffuser that they’ll associate with your home

- plates, glasses, and cutlery that feel good to use

- being mindful of the temperature

- lighting soft enough to relax in

- music quiet enough that you can still talk

- keeping things nearby so guests aren’t left for too long

- including their favourite food and drink in the menu

- giving them your full attention

Showing someone you care without saying it is one of the quietest yet most powerful forms of love.

A HUGE thank you for being here and reading.

It means a lot to me when you press like, leave a comment and share.

Claire x

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I’m guessing J.Crew summer catalogues are a favourite among many. There’s something aspirational, yet hopefully attainable, about them, and the vintage 1990s issues are no exception.

It’s not just the clothes that are appealing; it’s the people, the connections, their relationships, and real-life experiences we see being played out on each page. Kids carried on hips and shoulders, dogs being washed, couples shopping, and friends having fun, relaxed and happy.

It makes me want to wear head-to-toe beige, throw a cotton knit around my shoulders, and hang out barefoot on a beach with my closest friends and family, dogs and kids running around all day, every day, and right now I am so here for that.

Maybe my reality wouldn’t be as glamorous. I’m guessing there’d be moans of too hot, too sandy, too busy, with the dogs repeatedly trying to eat the nearby sunbathers’ picnic. But the beautiful images of carefree people having fun give me the permission I need to at least try to recreate my own summer catalogue version and make my own memories.

So here goes:

What I’m Wearing

Through my twenties and thirties, I tried doing ‘fashion’. Wearing the Boho-chic trend one day, then Vintage Princess the next. It never felt like me, like I was playing dress-up, which I guess I was.

Since hitting gracefully ascending into middle age, I’ve really leaned into relaxed, timeless pieces that I can wear until they need replacing. Let’s be honest, we have enough clothes in our wardrobes that could keep us going until we are 325 years old.

Things I love: clothes that feel good to wear and that don’t get in the way of life:

• soft grey marl tees

• white ankle-skimming denim

• faded vintage Levi shorts

• washed chambray shirts

• broderie anglaise camisoles

• tan worn in leather sandals

• drawstring anything

• cosy chunky cotton knits

• swimwear that makes me feel good and doesn’t go up my bottom

• tortoiseshell oversized sunnies

What I’m Surrounding Myself With

The people I love and the things I like, always.

• my everythings; husband, daughters, nieces, nephews

• two small fluffy dogs

• girlfriends who’ve seen me through my worst and best times

• trees, fields, trees and more trees

• live music

• uncontrollable laughter

• silly fun

• free-flowing creativity

• kindness without caveats

• positivity in abundance

• summer smells: freshly cut grass, magnolia petals, washed hair, sun cream on warm skin, melted strawberry ice lollies, lemon zest, warm rain

What I’m Carrying

• a dog or two

• a bag big enough to hold essentials for the kids: snacks, plasters, goggles, swimwear, sweatshirts, tissues, drinks, suncream, a fan, lip balm and for me, a notebook, pen, a current read and a hair bobble - nothing worse than forgetting one at the beach

What I’m Listening To

• early morning bird calls

• children giggling

• sea lapping

• distant pop music and carefree singing

• gentle breeze rustling through green leafy trees

• animated chatting

• audiobooks, I love physical books more, but the freedom to listen anytime is so appealing. Currently listening and laughing out loud to David Nicholls’ book, You Are Here

• Harry Styles singing. I treated the whole family to tickets for his London concert without listening to his new album. I’m now catching up on that and, so far, not disappointed

What I’m Making

Happy memories.

What I’m Putting in My Bouquets workout

I find having flowers at home a little too sad. They look so beautiful, then a few days later, they die. I always leave them sitting in their vase for too long, willing them to live a little longer, until the smell and scattered petals force me to throw them away.

So I switched this prompt to workouts. I love a mix of pilates and weight training. This is a great workout that incorporates both. I added heavier weights and ankle weights just to make it extra sweaty fun.

What My Days Look Like

Clocks do not exist. I know it’s morning because the sun and birds tell me, and I know it’s bedtime as my eyelids are heavy. Everything in between just happens, with no routine or force.

Obviously, when I’m not frolicking on the beach with my loved ones, it’s walking the dogs in the morning golden hour or as the sun sets, with writing in between. (also the boring stuff too, but as this is my J.Crew summer, different rules apply.)

What My Evenings Look Like

• zero performance

• my daughters and their friends milling around

• fun and brilliant conversations that last longer than the meal

• post-dinner board games or a quiz that my daughter has made up

• chilled glass of rosé or two

• warm goat’s cheese salad

• freshly baked bread with olive oil and balsamic vinegar

• posh picky bits for dinner or a party on a plate if you read this

• cool showers to rinse off the day, then into fresh pyjamas and clean sheets

• always ending the day in bed, windows open, watching a favourite TV show to let my body know it’s safe to sleep

-What I’m Letting Go Of

Pressure, expectation and control.

Whatever your summer looks like, a vintage J.Crew catalogue can inspire us all to make memories this summer:

• send that group text to arrange a meet-up with best friends

• book that weekend away by the sea

• invite someone you haven’t seen recently, over for an alfresco dinner and a catch-up

• immerse yourself in nature, seeing something bigger than ourselves helps our worries feel smaller and easier to manage

• sip a chilled drink, with your favourite nibbles in your favourite bowl

• watch the sunset with arms wrapped around a loved one

• listen to the early birdsong tucked up cosy in bed

• breathe deeply and slowly

Life can be so good if we give it a gentle nudge in the right direction.

Happy Summering.

Claire.x

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Home renovation is stressful. Bringing a million decisions, money worries, and builders’ dust everywhere despite your best efforts to seal up your home, all pushing even the strongest relationship to its limits. But these stresses aren’t the only problem; it’s how couples speak to each other during the process.

I’ve sat in plenty of design meetings where women have eye-rolled at every suggestion their husbands have made, abruptly telling them, “definitely no, that is so stupid,” “please just shut up.” And one even threatened to punch her husband if he mentioned, “that bloody front door again.”

Or the husband who told his wife that if she stopped spending money on hair clips and hairspray, they might be able to afford the extension.

The most unsettling thing is that this low-level disrespect, framed as humour, yes, feels awkward, but is mainly socially accepted. Everyone around joins in the jokes. The husband likes anything black, shiny and techy, ha ha ha, and the wife spends way too much money on frilly things, ha ha ha.

If other women are around, the sympathy falls to the wife for putting up with such an insufferable husband with terrible taste, and if other men are there, the husband will get the ‘I feel your pain, my wife’s a nightmare too’ look.

It’s like we get handed a free ‘act like an asshole’ card as soon as we pick up a paint colour chart. This attitude isn’t exclusive to design meetings either.

Scroll Reddit, and you’ll see similar questionable advice on how to decorate with your partner:

And the many house tours on YouTube, couples showing off their new living room as they berate their partner for choosing a piece of furniture they think is “just awful.” The faint whiff of impending separation leaks through the TV screen.

I get it, two people can’t have the same taste and ideas all of the time. And you probably chose your partner for their other amazing qualities rather than their interior design skills. But a clash between industrial modern and granny chic is entirely survivable, and from what I’ve seen over the years, treating your partner’s ideas as stupid or that they are stupid is not.

Did the little voice in your head say, “Because their ideas are stupid.”?

Okay, that’s not the point here. The point is, how does that make someone feel, and where do all those feelings go within a relationship?

Maybe it’s our way of finally feeling relevant, getting our partner back for something that’s pissed us off, or just plain old sexism. But in the process of what might seem funny or flippant, a single sarcastic comment or overlooked opinion can make someone feel dismissed, small, and unheard. And the person we supposedly care about the most starts to feel irrelevant and stupid. Those feelings don’t disappear; they settle into the relationship and quietly grow to become resentment.

And resentment is not healthy in any relationship, and definitely not one you want in a romantic one.

In my experience, and research backs this, decisions might feel joint, but there is almost always a dominant partner and a subservient one coming along for the ride. One person leads creatively, usually the woman, while the other approves or pushes back, giving the man a sense that he’s making the final yes or no. But it’s the imbalance itself that causes the problems.

This isn’t about placing blame on women. Women have worked hard to be seen and taken seriously. Sometimes, though, we forget the men who have made room for us at the table. Treating them as if they deserve to be put in their place. I am aware there are plenty of shitty men who deserve to be told to shut up. But not all men are the same, and this isn’t equality, different dynamics, same damage.

But… presumably if we’re making a home with this person, we must like them, and be willing to accept it’s their home too, whether we agree with all their ideas or not.

So where can we start? What can we do?

The goal for my own relationship is respect and partnership, and I use the 50/50 rule. I haven’t always been great at it, and it’s something I’ve worked on and will continue to work on. But I’ve learnt that having equal room for both our opinions is the healthy balance I strive for. And as Chris Rock said,

For the 50/50 to work, respect is everything. Love can bring two people together, but respect and feeling understood will keep you together. Treat your partner the way you want to be treated. It’s simple, but easy to forget. If your partner suggests putting a TV in every room, or wants to buy a £6000 light fitting for the downstairs loo, catch any comment that might be a put-down or dismissal. Keeping Respect by Aretha Franklin on loop in your head is not a bad idea:

Having some form of autonomy in our own home does wonders for our self-esteem and the psychological freedom we need. Being able to make choices helps us feel visible and not held back by someone else’s opinions or expectations. Otherwise, we potentially fall into “people-pleasing” territory, and nobody wants to go there.

Being curious helps more than a heated argument. Asking your partner why they want or like something will help you understand their way of thinking. Maybe the floor lamp you think is ugly reminds them of childhood, which can be a game-changer and really useful when a decision is needed. You can start to dissect which part of the ‘ugly’ lamp they like and find a similar element in one that you can both agree on.

Some partners will happily let you make all the decisions, but before you accept that as an easy win, it’s worth getting curious and asking why. A lack of interest is one thing, but often it’s a lack of confidence, or worse, a “what’s the point?” that has developed over time. Their answer matters; it might tell you something you might not want to hear, but it is so important.

If you hear or say the snippy comments or see or do the eye rolls, find out what’s really going on; it’s never just about a paint colour or tile. If resentment has crept in, see what’s underneath before it turns into something permanent and work through it. Otherwise, every time you use the tap, sit on the sofa or see the tiles, you might be reminded of the argument that got them there.

And the most challenging skill is to let go of your ego. This is not easy, but one of the greatest gifts you can bring to a relationship is to learn to hold your own ideas light enough to make room for your partner’s. It can transform not just your relationship, but the home you create together.

Remember: You are not just making somewhere look pretty that only one of you likes. You are making a home together to live in together. Make it a happy one.

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Since my last article, I haven’t stopped thinking about what I wrote and how I might be failing as a team player within my family.

This tip was written innocently and with good intentions, but I now see it’s a red flag, and I am the red flag.

#10. A bit of you scattered around. I now scatter my home with the things I love, my favourite colours, books, flowers, scent.

I’m very open about how I kept an immaculate, considered home, which sucked all the joy out of living there. Feeling like a stranger in my own home, and I know my children felt it too.

I’ve worked hard to relax about crumbs and the daily detritus that a family of four and two dogs brings, no longer lying awake at night stressing about the cupboard that no one ever sees. I am happier, and home life is so much happier. My family (hopefully) don’t walk on eggshells or fear making a ‘mess’ anymore.

Since the article, I’ve been thinking a lot. You know, when you drive over a bridge, it may only be small, but your tummy still does that weird flippy thing. Well, these words did that to me.

my home with the things I love

MY and I ???

I thought I was doing a pretty good job at making my family feel seen and heard. I’ve been on the long and winding self-awareness journey, and upped my emotional IQ as best I could, yet here I am, much too busy creating a home I love, I missed the most important part.

The 3 other people I live with.

Where is their story in my our home?

I leave their everyday things out, coats, bags, shoes, so they feel they belong, hang up the girls’ art to help them see they are important, but how much of my husband and two kids’ personalities are visible around my our home?

As I look around, the answer is an embarrassing… none.

What’s even worse is that I wrote this:

When your personality is visible, home feels familiar and safe.

Jeez, I especially want my children to feel safe at home.

The need for control, which I thought I’d overcome, I realise, is still there. My strict guidelines are now hiding behind my newfound ease with mess and bolder decorating.

If I’m honest, I feel really shitty about it. So I’ve challenged myself to firstly, kick my clearly still controlling behaviour to the kerb and encourage my knuckles to loosen their grip.

Then act on the things my family have been moaning, telling me they don’t like about our home:

• Remove the ‘scratchy’ cushions from the sofa that my eldest daughter hates.

• Move my kids’ favourite ‘smooth’ plates, lobster mugs and kitten-patterned bowls hidden in the unreachable cupboard to the main glass cabinet instead.

• Replace the photo that I love of my two girls, but makes them cringe. I will finally listen and ask them to help choose a new one.

• Check if they’re happy with the pieces of their artwork I’ve put up, or if they’d prefer different ones.

• Both girls love pink, so I’ll ask how they’d like to see more of it around the house.

• I’ve chosen each piece of art on display in our home, I’ll ask my husband to put his favourite pieces up too.

• I know my husband doesn’t like the hallway runner, I’ll ask if he’d like to replace it. And I’ll keep my big nose out if he does.

• I have plants which I name, and I’ll ask if anyone else would like to do the same.

• My husband and I have our books on the bookshelves, but I’ll ask the girls if they want to add theirs too.

• I will move the kitchen furniture back to the way my youngest loves, as she has grumbled since the rejig.

• As a collective, pick a scent for our home, not just one that my husband and I love.

I now see that scattering pieces of ourselves around our home is more than leaving the odd thing out. It’s about making a conscious, realistic decision to include everyone in small, simple ways.

Kids thrive on autonomy, but it doesn’t mean allowing them free rein with decorating.

Relationships can end when one side of a partnership feels irrelevant, but it doesn’t mean compromising to make their opinion feel valued, only to end up resenting their choices.

It does mean seeing little glimpses of ourselves through choices, feelings or our favourite items. Things that trigger a sense of familiarity and safety. Letting you know that the people you live with like and embrace all of you.

This feeling shouldn’t be exclusive to me, and I’ll continue to make sure parts of all of us are scattered and sprinkled around our home, because everyone deserves to feel relevant, and everyone deserves to feel they belong.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to read more from me, please subscribe… oh and share if you think someone else would too.

If you’d like to support my work, please consider a paid subscription or rather, suggest you buy me a coffee … as I don’t drink coffee, my guide: 5 Steps To Choosing Paint Colours would be more fun and helpful for you.

Claire x

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Decorating your home should be fun, right? But in reality, it can be overwhelming, stressful, and add a partner into the mix, tensions can arise even in the most solid of relationships.

I’ve worked on too many projects where I've felt more like a marriage guidance counsellor than an interior designer. The majority of couples I’ve worked with tend to follow a similar pattern. Meetings are booked and led by the wife, keen to share her ideas, while the husband loiters nearby, making his position clear: he won't be making decisions, and he'll be paying the bill.

Then, as the project progresses, something interesting happens. He edges closer. And the moment his wife makes a product choice, he offers: "Oh, I don't like that." Her eyes narrow. Colour rises to her cheeks. The room goes quiet enough to hear a paint sample drop.

Next, usually goes one of two ways: harmony or hell. Regretfully, I rarely see two couples sail through without the odd exasperated comment, and it usually ends with one side giving in, feeling disgruntled, and the project loses its shine for both. I hate seeing this.

Hammonds, a fitted furniture company, surveyed 2,000 UK adults on how couples decide on decorating. 16% of men said they find it easy, because they simply let their partner decide. I find that statistic fascinating. I've worked with plenty of men who bring vulnerability to the table, sharing what they like and what makes them happy. Others genuinely believe they're not contributing, when actually they're chipping in at the wrong moment, too late, having missed the million discussions that already happened, resulting in a frustrated partner and an awkward room.

I sense most men aren't sure of their place in the process, so they take what feels like the expected position: keep quiet, hand over the cash. But it's his home too. Whether it's time, confidence, or fear of getting it wrong, taking a back seat can feel easier than stepping up and offering their opinion.

What I've learned is that conflict during a home project is rarely about the tile or the paint colour. It's about feeling seen, respected, and included in the creation of a shared home. Disagreements are inevitable; two people can't possibly have the same needs and expectations all the time, but they don't have to be destructive.

When conflict isn’t perceived as threatening or punishing, but as an opportunity to resolve disagreements in healthy, constructive ways, it actually strengthens trust and creates more honesty and safety between couples.

The goal isn't to eliminate differences; it's to create a process where both people feel safe to express themselves.

The good news is that navigating design differences is a genuinely learnable skill, and requires the same core ingredients as any healthy relationship: curiosity about your partner's inner world, a willingness to compromise without resentment, and the ability to hold your own preferences lightly enough to make room for someone else's.

Tips for Conflict-Free Decorating:

Find out each other's "why" before the Pinterest board. Before floor plans, colours, or furniture, talk about what's driving this. What are you both hoping to achieve? A shared intention creates a natural design brief and fewer arguments down the line. Keep referring back to this; it’ll stop you from being distracted by someone else’s version of home.

Stay involved throughout the process. Don't let yourself get left behind, and don't leave your partner behind either. Keep a genuine interest in the decisions, even the dull ones. If something feels overwhelming, say so and ask for help. Opting out with "you choose" might feel easier in the moment, but it's how resentment quietly builds on both sides.

Pick your timing. Avoid big design decisions when you're hungry, tired, or already stressed. Emotionally charged conversations escalate quickly, and no one's ever chosen a great sofa mid-argument.

Talk about money early and openly. Budget tension often hides beneath design disagreements. Get it on the table before any big decisions are made.

Name the feeling, not the object. "It feels too cold" lands very differently from "I hate it." One opens a conversation, the other starts a standoff. Be honest, but if you don't like something, try explaining why or find an element of it that you do like.

Manage your emotions. During a project, it can feel like you're being bombarded with decisions, from radiator valves to light switches. If it starts to feel overwhelming, pause. Recognise where the tension is sitting and acknowledge it before it becomes an outburst.

Take your time. Use the 24-hour rule for bigger purchases or decisions, and sleep on it. It prevents impulsive choices just to get it crossed off the list.

Define decision zones. Agree that each person has autonomy over certain rooms or elements. Shared spaces call for compromise; a home office or hobby room can reflect the individual more freely.

Create yes/no/maybe piles. When evaluating options, each partner rates choices independently. It reduces arguments and turns decisions into structured dialogue, as you can see which ones are liked by both sides.

Practise active listening before responding. Ask yourself: have I been calm, non-defensive, and respectful? Have I actually listened, or was I just waiting for a gap to talk?

Watch for hidden arguments. When a conversation feels more heated than it should, pause and ask if everything is ok. It's rarely really about the thing you’re discussing. Stress, feeling unheard, and bigger life pressures have a habit of disguising themselves and showing up within the design process.

Look for third options. Compromise doesn't mean giving in. If you can't agree, the best outcome is often something neither of you had originally considered, but you both love.

Research together before deciding separately. Pinterest boards, showrooms, a Sunday scroll, building a shared visual language early saves a lot of "but I thought you meant..." later.

The ideal is to enjoy the process, with as little stress along the way as possible, which isn’t always easy. But remember: no one is going to die. Making a home is a privilege, and it should be fun. If things get tense, humour is your best tool.

Laughter is a natural antidote to stress. It lightens the mood and helps you keep things in perspective by bringing your nervous system into balance. You’ll feel calmer, your mind sharper, and you'll be more empathic.

Creating a home together is a tricky process, and if you can navigate paint colours, sofas, and radiator valves together and come out the other side still smiling, your relationship can survive anything. And if you ever feel the tension rising, come back to these tips.

I’d love to hear what you and your partner can never agree on when doing up your home.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to read more from me, please subscribe… oh and share if you think someone else would too.

If you’d like to support my work, rather than suggest you buy me a coffee … also, I don’t drink coffee! I hoped my guide: 5 Steps To Choosing Paint Colours would be more fun and helpful for you.

Claire.x

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When you grow up with emotionally immature parents with possible narcissism (I’m being kind here, as I’m not qualified to diagnose, but if you know, you just know), you carry the heavy weight of never feeling important as a child with you into adulthood.

As a result, parenting can feel like a pendulum. All my choices and decisions are at the opposite end of the swing to how I was parented. I know there are lots of us now, middle-aged, realising how our own parents probably shouldn’t have become parents. The societal pressure and norms put on young women didn’t leave room for many other options. With my now ‘wise-mind’, I know what my emotional needs were as a child, and I can categorically say that none were met. The basic need for food, which wasn’t always a certainty, water and shelter were the only types of needs my parents were able to fulfil.

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Yes, I buy my children what they ask for. The pendulum is still swinging. More importantly to me and them is that I fulfil their emotional needs. They won’t remember the Apple Watch or the Air Force One trainers in pastel shades, but they will remember how Christmas made them feel. The feeling of having control over choices, that we see and value their world, they are important and very much loved.

They will have no clue this is my goal. When these feelings are there unconditionally, you think it’s normal to feel special and important. It’s only when you don’t that you crave it. The worst, I think, is when you have those feelings taken away. Never feeling loved or important to my parents feels less cruel than having it suddenly removed.

I’m not sure why we’re not encouraged more as parents to strive to fulfil our children’s emotional needs. How many of us even know they exist, or that we have our own set outlined as adults? We run around like headless chickens looking for the answers to living happy, fulfilled lives, and when you see what we need emotionally, it’s so obvious. Not big, perfect homes, careers that keep us away from the people we love or large amounts of money in the bank. We need to feel loved, have meaningful connections, feel significant, respected and safe. The same as our children.

I actually don’t like Christmas very much. Along with consumerism making my blood boil, I have no nostalgia for my childhood Christmases, no happy memories or traditions that I’ve carried in my heart to share with my own children. It’s taken me a few years to embrace the season, yet I still struggle to see the joy. I try, I really do, but I must be doing something right as my children love Christmas.

Not because of the obvious, all the presents, but as a family of four, we have created our own version of Christmas together. Over the years, it’s been tweaked to be age-appropriate, even though I’m sure both teenage girls would still happily put out reindeer food and a cookie for Santa; they look forward to those few days despite our Christmas not involving too many people.

My husband is a product of a broken home, and he fell between two families where he never found his home in either. And me, well, my family don’t talk to me. That’s the thing with a family based on control and shame: when you say you can’t take it anymore, you become the problem, not because you are, it’s just safer for them to believe rather than face their truth.

So it’s just the four of us, one dog and a hamster. I find the pressure for a memorable Christmas without extended family around quite intense. Adverts, Christmas songs and the general message, it’s all about family. Grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces, brothers, and sisters. This year, I vow to be different. No guilt for the lack of family, no visitors, but how lucky I am to have my own little family; not everyone is as fortunate and for that I am very grateful. To be proud that my girls at 14 and 16 won’t be able to sleep on Christmas Eve because they’re so excited, or that they’re still happy to hang with us all day, eating chocolates, wearing pyjamas and playing board games.

When I describe our typical Christmas celebrations to friends, they tell me they’re jealous. No long treks up the motorway to visit aunts, or sleeping on the blow-up beds at in-laws. They are kind, as they don’t tell me about the good stuff. The belly laughing at the family secret Santa gifts, seeing faces of loved ones light up when you arrive or seeing your name on a present under their tree. I am grateful they don’t tell me.

I concentrate on what I can control: how much love I give. This Christmas, my children will have oodles wrapped up in my words, my time and my arms.

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In case you don’t know the emotional needs of children, here they are:

• Emotional Safety – is the knowledge that you can share your emotions with another person without fear of judgment or reprisal.

• Connection and a sense of belonging – is the knowledge that someone understands you and wants to know your thoughts and feelings.

• Acceptance – is being appreciated for your individuality, thoughts and feelings.

• Significance – is having a purpose and feeling valued.

• Autonomy – is feeling like you have some control over decisions in your life.

• Attention - your attention and time

• Respect – is feeling like your opinions matter and being treated with kindness and consideration.

• Love - that is unconditional and doesn’t depend on their behaviour or achievements

This is how fulfilling my daughter’s emotional needs over Christmas can look for us:

Emotional Safety – There will be late nights, chocolate and probably not enough fresh air, so we allow for mood swings and tantrums - no judgment.

Connection and a sense of belonging – We give our children our time. Our full undivided attention with eye contact, no looking at phones while they talk.

Acceptance – gifts are bought that they have asked for, with the caveat that they aren’t something they need, a nice-to-have, or something they could buy themselves. But something special that they look at, want to keep for a while and absolutely love.

Significance – They are involved in any decisions that involve them. Where we eat out, who we see, and what time we leave. Their opinions are important.

Autonomy – We allow our daughters to make their own decisions. Over the years, we have instilled good values in them, which naturally became their boundaries. We trust them to make sensible choices, and so far, they haven’t let us down. We don’t include Turkey as no one actually likes it, so the kids choose their favourite meal for Christmas lunch. No one has selected anything too wild; supernoodles and chicken nuggets were probably the most adventurous options.

Respect – we respect it’s their time away from school and homework, that they deserve to relax and unwind, no nagging to get up or tidy their rooms.

I know that not everyone’s Christmas is the perfect version we see on TV. My Christmas tip: Control what you can, let go of what you can’t and love as hard as you can; that includes yourself. x

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I recently wrote about how sharing meals creates happiness. I also put together a guide on how to choose a dining table that encourages conversation. This is the next step. Having beautiful and interesting items on your table can spark those conversations and help turn mealtimes into memorable moments.

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It’s often the simple things that stay with us. Creating a happy moment doesn’t need to be expensive or elaborate. Evidence shows that gently engaging our five senses can help relax our nervous system, lift our mood, and create moments that are more likely to be remembered fondly. Here’s how you can apply it to your table:

• Sight - Use my table guide so everyone can see each other’s faces comfortably. Add a few visually beautiful conversation-sparking objects to the table.

• Touch - Tactile experiences boost comfort and satisfaction. Linen napkins, rippled glassware, weighty or delicate plates, and detailed cutlery give the hands something pleasing to explore, making a meal feel intentional and comforting.

• Smell - Pleasant aromas trigger positive emotions and memory recall. Let the food lead. If the food smells delicious, perfect. If the aroma is subtle, introduce subtle-smelling candles or diffusers in a calm, welcoming scent to help guests feel relaxed and at ease.

• Sound - Soft background sounds can reduce stress and relax the nervous system. Low-level music, or simply the hum of conversation and clinking cutlery, creates a comforting atmosphere that encourages people to linger.

• Taste - Taste engages reward pathways in the brain and evokes emotional responses. I’m not the best cook, so I work with the principle that if food is prepared with love and care, even something simple like beans on toast can make someone feel special.

When we offer guests gentle sensory pleasures, we’re not just decorating a table; we’re creating a multi-sensory experience that makes them feel good and relaxed to build lasting happy memories.

Below are some beautiful and sensory pleasing pieces that feel good in the hand, look inviting on a table, and naturally inspire connection, all under £100. Whether you’re choosing a gift for someone special or treating yourself, these objects are designed to spark conversation and elevate everyday dining.

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Candlelight is perfect lighting for intimate dinners. I’m loving this pretty little four-leaf clover matchbox, particularly the option to have it engraved

Ideal for lighting these patterned candles from Hay. They come in various designs, colours and shapes, a fab update to the favourite twisted candle. The simple candle holder comes in delicious lacquered colours.

I’m a sucker for hand-painted art, and these oval platters and plates make me very happy. A gorgeous series of colourful pieces that infuse artistic expression into everyday life. Ideal for everyday mealtimes and special occasions, or even as a unique artwork displayed on walls or shelves.

The dark cherry red lacquered Chubbie salt mill is brilliant. I can imagine it’s pleasing to hold and use. Made in rubberwood and finished with multiple coats of high gloss lacquer, each layer is hand-polished for a flawless sheen. I want one!

Robert Welce cutlery is a firm favourite of mine. Their pieces are timeless and elegant, and the detailing is distinctive yet really comfortable and appealing to hold.

What a conversation sparkler! Keep your wine fresh that little bit longer with these (tame) leopard bottle stoppers. Crafted from resin and cork. I’d give them names if I were lucky enough to have them live in my house.

This stunning bow tie corkscrew is a piece of art and is made to be a talking point for dinner parties. It’s the perfect gift or barware upgrade for wine lovers with an eye for design.

These napkins not only feel super soft as they’re spun from the softest stonewashed linen they are also printed with playful illustrations, bringing fun to your table. I did not know this, but linen is a natural antibacterial fabric, making these napkins even more perfect.

More hand-painted ceramics. This cake stand is the prettiest, happiest one I’ve ever seen. Any cake would look amazing on it. It’s sprinkled with multicoloured wildflowers and heart-shaped tulips, in bold colours. I’d hope my guests would be too busy looking at the stand and not notice my terrible baking.

This bird Jug was designed as part of the ‘Bird Collection’ for Ichendorf Milano by Japanese designer Tomoko Mizu. It is handmade from borosilicate glass and features the most delicate green bird perched on the handle, too cute.

I love an interestingly shaped wine glass; this one feels quite regal, and I imagine holding it would be very satisfying with the fluted sides and chunky base.

Fun coasters too to spark conversation …

I love Jo Malone’s scents, and this is on my list to smell next time I’m near the store. I thought the description was very seductive…Fill the room with orchards steeped in golden sunshine, warming the russet curves of luscious pears. Sounds blissful.

I hope this inspires you to consider the senses when creating your mealtimes. It doesn’t have to be just for guests. Using these principles every day can elevate even the simplest meal and might even encourage reluctant members of the house ( pesky teenagers) to linger a little longer at the table. Happy dining! x

More and more recently, whenever I arrive home and shout, “I’m home,” I am met with silence. I used to think everyone was out, but as I climb the stairs to put on my pj’s, like any rational person would after a long day in the real world, I find my children are actually home. Both sitting in their bedrooms, iPad in hand, completely absorbed. “Oh, hi!” … no response. I am invisible.

I know their hearing works fine, which is debatable at times, especially when I shout dinner forty thousand times. I’m forever amazed Jon at no. 22 hasn’t appeared, anticipating food.

Comforted that this scenario isn’t unique to my family, as other households are under a similar spell. But does that make it ok? Nope.

Let’s be honest, the world is a lot right now, and sometimes we just need to switch off and disappear into make-believe for a minute. I get it. But there’s a difference between switching off and disconnecting completely.

Too much of anything isn’t great for us. (I'll remind myself of that next time I'm near the bottom of my favourite bag of sweets.) But we can strike a balance.

Being alone in our rooms needs to be balanced with being together.

And the easiest, most effective way to do that?

Eat together.

(And no, sorry, eating in front of the TV doesn’t count.)

Why does it matter?

If you’ve read the World Happiness Report 2025, and please tell me I’m not the only happiness nerd, you’ll know that people who regularly share meals experience significantly higher life satisfaction. Gaining social connection, greater well-being, a sense of being supported, and a buffer against loneliness.

Teenagers who ate regular family meals had better nutritional habits, lower rates of obesity, fewer eating disorders, and higher academic achievement. These benefits are reduced when phones are present at the table.

Sharing a meal gives stress somewhere to go.

Problems become more manageable when they’re spoken out loud. I know once I’ve shared something that bothers me, I can see it clearly, and suddenly it doesn’t feel so big and scary anymore.

The good stuff gets the airtime it deserves, too. From job promotions to what to watch next. Sharing the highs and lows of our day as we eat brings everyone closer.

When we’re listened to, we feel seen. It lets us know we matter, that we belong.

That’s why the table is the most powerful piece of furniture in your home.

Mealtimes don’t need to be fancy.

Tables don’t need to be expensive.

The important part is being together and present. I’ve discovered that when the setting is right, everything clicks. Here’s how:

Place your table in the busiest part of the home. The kitchen is the perfect place, as it’s the room everyone already gravitates to. It also keeps everyone, especially the cook, within earshot, because there's nothing worse than joining a story halfway through or missing the punchline of a joke; that's the quickest way to feel like an outsider in your own home.

No Distraction: No devices on or near the table. Remember, the benefits of eating together are reduced when phones are at the table, so the rule applies to everyone, no exceptions. It's easy to tell the kids to put their phones away, yet quietly check work emails yourself. They notice. Lead by example.

Conversation is a skill: Like any skill, it needs to be practised. The dinner table is a rehearsal for the outside world. It’s where we can practise and teach our children curiosity, empathy, and attention. Do you listen without interrupting? Ask interesting questions? Tell a story in a way that keeps someone interested?

Size matters: Make sure there's a place for everyone who lives there. Having a space waiting for someone lets them know they belong. Ideally, your table is big enough for your regular guests, too. If space is tight, an extending table is one of the smartest investments you can make.

Table Shape: Round or oval is my favourite for connection. As everyone can see each other’s faces, making eye contact is far easier. Conversation can flow more naturally, and no one is left out, even if there is an odd number of people. I hate it when one end of the table is laughing, and you can’t hear what’s funny.

Chairs: Comfortable chairs encourage longer conversations. Padded chairs, seat pads, cushions, anything to make the seat as comfy as possible. If space is tight, keep fold-away chairs nearby. When an extra seat appears easily, it signals that someone’s presence is expected and not an inconvenience. If someone in the house is a reluctant joiner, set a place for them anyway. Let them see the invitation before they decide to accept it.

Lighting: Soft and out of your eye line. The right lighting makes everyone feel relaxed, and relaxed people talk more. Candles, table lamps, or an overhead light on a dimmer with a diffused bulb are perfect, and please no bright spotlights.

Position: Keep everything close. The more we leave the table, the more the connection breaks. Keep drinks, food, music, and even games within reach. Protect the moment.

My husband and I made a conscious decision when our kids were little not to be on our phones around them. We never used iPads at dinner to entertain them, so the adults could talk. We always encouraged them to join in the conversation, which means now mealtimes are fun. Stories are shared. We laugh. We debate.

But most nights, the girls eat earlier than my husband, and I do, and we probably only sit down together as a family two or three times a week. I know we can do better.

When we do eat together, I love it. I can feel the physical connection as hands touch, passing plates and serving each other, and as we listen to each other’s day, I feel the emotional connections strengthen, too. Gripes get aired, funny stories get told, and we all visibly relax.

Right. Time to lay the table, you’re all invited to dinner.x

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to read more from me, please subscribe… oh and share if you think someone else would too.

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Claire.x

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