I discovered recently that “joy strategist” is a job, joining “ritual consultants” and who knows what other horrifyingly creative responses to our current predicament. Despair doulas? PPE fetish pornographers?
New Yorker Grace Harry coaches her clients to create a toolbox of escapist activities tapping into their inner childlike sense of fun: anything from colouring books to trampolining to glitter (please, no).
I actually don’t think this is particularly ridiculous. I saw in the new year scratching persistent limescale off the bathroom tap with my fingernail, and my reward for getting through the past grim week was to treat myself to the “good” bin bags: no one needs a joy strategist more than me. Lots of us are struggling to find levity at the moment. It feels wrong and self-indulgent, and most types of fun are illegal at the moment. But Harry is right: carving out time to do something cheering is vital; it’s also likely to make you nicer to be around.
Unable to raise the requisite $650 (£475) for a “playdate” with Harry, I am devising my own joy strategy for the rest of this month. Here it is:
Catch a pigeon I love watching videos of people who have trained small birds to take seed from their hands, but living where I do, I have a better chance of luring a pigeon with a piece of croissant. Is it hygienic, sensible, legal? Almost certainly not, and that is part of the fun.
Make and eat a trifle No one but me likes them here, which as far as I am concerned makes it even better. Bring on the hundreds and thousands.
Sing a sea shanty I have no idea why sea shanties have become so popular in this lockdown; I look forward to the footnote explanation in future histories of the era. In the meantime, I am as enthused as everyone else and have found a free Zoom choir that sings them. Yo, and also ho.
