The Accidental Trad Wife

Redundancy, reflection and rebellion

recent posts

  • Day 32: Italian food and beautiful gardens

    Beautiful gardens

    It’s been a nice day. A great day. My husband’s off work, we spent an hour walking around some beautiful gardens. We played poohsticks. We sat and just listened to the streams together. We gave honour to a Japanese temple. And we kissed in the middle of every bridge we walked over. 

    We like to kiss in the middle of bridges. Our first kiss was laying down in the middle of a bridge, looking up at the stars. We got engaged in the middle of the same bridge. We’ve been together for 2,212 days, and we still enjoy our time together as much today as we did on our first date. That’s nice. Really soppy, but still really nice. 

    There was a ‘Italian Pantry’ in the gift shop to the gardens. We chatted to the lady running it about the differences in pizza quality between Rome and Naples. Naples is better, obviously. We bought some 36 month aged parmesan, truffle oil and tinned tomatoes. While we were there, who I considered to be a terribly rude man talking on his mobile loudly, my husband recognised as a somewhat famous former football player and manager. He was still rude though. 

    We left the gardens and Italian Pantry and headed off for lunch. 

    Lunch and wandering 

    We went to a local town and wandered up the high street and down to the quay. We walked into and out of two different restaurants, before we decided where to eat. 

    My husband knows I hate ordering the same thing as someone else at the table. He ordered exactly the same as me: club sandwich on focaccia, no tomatoes. It was a good lunch choice, I can’t blame him for making the same choice. I do, for no logical reason, hate ordering the same thing though. It was a great lunch, paired with a lime soda and inevitably a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. 

    We wandered back up the high street to the car. I picked up some new incense sticks, my husband got a new top. 

    We got back home, I poured a glass of prosecco and accidentally napped for an hour and a half. 

    Poole Quay

    Maybe I should be a chef? 

    Today, is really all about the dinner. The rest of the day was great, dinner was magnificent.

    I went all out, once I’d woken up from my nap. Homemade gnocchi with a slow roasted tomato, garlic and basil sauce, topped with parmesan. Homemade ravioli with a sweet potato, honey and feta filling, topped with crispy bacon and more parmesan. And inevitably, arancini, today with truffle oil, mushrooms and garlic, served on top of aioli. 

    Maybe I should start sharing recipes? For the moment, hit me up if you want some. When I come to the end of this experiment, maybe my next blog will be hearty British and Italian recipes. My husband said he’d have paid £28 for the plate of food, so I take that as it was good. 

    It’s now the end of another day, watching a movie and cuddling on the sofa. I’ve loved every second of today. It’s only Trad Wifey in the cooking, so maybe not a big Trad Wife day. But in my previous life, I couldn’t have just taken a day off to do this with my husband. So, this whole day wouldn’t have existed if I was working.

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Plants seen: Over 300
    Parmesan: 36 months aged
    Bridges: Romantic (for us at least)
    Dinner: Magnificent

  • Day 31: He said what?

    It was a logical decision

    I was at Tesco within ten minutes of waking up, I hadn’t stocked up on Monster for me and my husband. I threw my giant Fjallraven coat over the top of my leggings and t-shirt, and put on a pair of sliders. More a feral than a Trad Wife look, but needs must. 

    We sat in bed and chatted about my husband’s birthday this weekend, we’ve been toying with the idea of going to Prague. My husband could tell I was more hesitant than I was letting on, he ended up saying “If you don’t want to go because you don’t have an income at the moment, that makes sense.” It does make sense. We’re not going, and it’s the logical decision. 

    My husband asked me to join him on a trip he was making to Peterborough for work today. It means he’ll have my company for 7 hours of driving. I think that’s a good Trad Wife thing to do. Well, if my company’s good at least. 

    We got into the car with our cans of Monster, and headed off. 

    Photo by Valeriia Miller on Pexels.com

    Trump said what? 

    My husband put on the radio, and it was already set to LBC (Leading Britain’s Conversation), and it was James O’Brien’s slot. I’m somewhat in love with James O’Brien, he’s smart, left leaning and is number one on my list of people to sit and have a morning coffee in bed with. Sorry David Mitchell, you’re in second place. 

    I can’t help but write about politics, as it really has been the theme of the day. It’s either politics or the couple of hours I spent wandering around a shopping centre. I’ve made my choice. 

    Donald Trump made some pretty shocking remarks yesterday. Well, they’d be shocking if said by any other world leader, but for Trump, it’s expected, and moronic. 

    He criticised Sir Sadiq Khan, the mayor of London, and claimed that Sharia Law is being brought into Britain. Not sure if it’s thinly veiled racism, or blatant and undeniable, I’d probably say the latter. 

    James O’Brien covered this topic, which lasted most of the journey up. Both he, and the callers, made some compelling points. Largely, why are we not just telling someone they’re racist when they are being racist? If I call someone racist, when they’re being racist, it’s likely I’ll be called ‘woke’ or it’s claimed to be ‘political correctness gone mad’. 

    It doesn’t stop them being racist though. 

    After my inevitable car nap. We pulled up to the shopping centre in Peterborough. 

    Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

    Only lovely people

    My husband went into a unit in the centre he was overseeing a shop fit on. I took myself off for lunch and shopping. 

    I had lunch in Wagamama, they do a £12 lunchtime deal now, ideal. They gave me a nice quiet space away from other groups, and the staff were all lovely. I sat scrolling Reddit and eating yaki soba. I had lots of meals out by myself when I used to work away. At first, I found it awkward, now, I love it. 

    Lunch done, I had a wander round the shops. My husband’s birthday is on Monday, so I thought I’d pick up some extra bits. I can’t say what they are, my husband reads my blog. I can say everyone I spoke to in every shop was lovely. I’m finding that there’s a different vibe in shops when you’re not there in peak hours. Everything is calmer and people have time to chat. I’ll miss that if I get another Monday to Friday job in the future. 

    I got to ring a gratitude bell in one shop too, and the staff cheered. It was a shop of small businesses to support the local community. I bought a great thing there, my husband will know what it is on Monday. 

    I hadn’t heard back from my husband on when he was due to finish, so I found a nice pub out in the square, bought a glass of Sauvignon and settled down to people watch. 

    I got a Whatsapp saying he’d finished two sips in. 

    I tipped the glass into a nearby plant and we headed back to the car for the journey home. 

    Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

    Farage said what? 

    On the way home, we put LBC back on. One of Trump’s other vile comments yesterday was the topic of conversation from Tom Swarbrick. Trump claimed that paracetamol taken by pregnant women can cause autism in utero. Wow. 

    It was then brought to Britain’s aspiring future Prime Minister, the utter twat that is Nigel Farage. He didn’t specifically agree with Trump, but he didn’t disagree, and implied he didn’t trust medical science. Wow. 

    I could go on about this subject for a while. The utter stupidity of it. The dangerous consequences. The misogynistic rhetoric. 

    I’ll simply say, if you have that level of power and reach, your words matter, your words can be dangerous. Oh, and fuck Trump and Farage.

    After a second car nap, we pulled into the driveway home. 

    A ‘Fake-away’ 

    My husband was craving a specific takeaway chicken wrap, served with cheese sauce and crispy bacon chips. I offered to try and replicate it. He agreed. I nailed it. 

    I feel I’ve had a bit of an insight on my husband’s working day today. 3.5 hours drive, 3 hours work somewhere, 3.5 hours drive back. Eat pre-packed sandwiches in the car. Listen to LBC. Drum on knees to music. I think he deserves the greeting at the door with a kiss, the warm and cosy home and a fresh meal. 

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Miles driven: 370
    Political leaning: Somewhat obvious
    Appreciation of my husband’s job: Increased
    Husband’s rating of dinner: 9.8/10

  • Day 30: Anthropomorphic animals

    I was out of sorts most of the day

    I woke up at 1am, and couldn’t get back to sleep until 4. My husband stirred at about 2 when I put the TV on. Luckily he’s a heavy sleeper, he grunted “I love you” and fell immediately back to sleep. I watched a couple of hours of BoJack Horseman. 

    In the last few months at work I was sleeping really, really badly. I needed to stay up until the early hours just to decompress. How did I used to work a 12 hour day on 5 hours sleep? 

    I woke up properly at about 7:45, and my husband had already left for work. Everything felt off. I sat in bed with my can of Monster and did an hour of Duolingo. I’m now able to say “Does your brother work with my husband in London”, another useful phrase. 

    I pottered a little, but not really. 

    Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

    I still love cartoons 

    I had a total lack of energy, so spent several hours in bed watching BoJack. It’s worth the watch. There’s episodes on dementia, addiction and death that go deeper than shows that don’t have anthropomorphic animals as the main cast.

    BoJack does better than most in having well developed, strong female characters, with emotional depth. A cat called ‘Princess Caroline’ wants a family, and is career driven. She wants to have it all. She falls over the edge a couple of times. But she ends up making decisions that are right for her. 

    A human woman, ‘Diane’, feels like she’s never enough. She’s smart, creative and wants to make the world better. But she lives with her movie star husband, who’s a yellow Labrador called Mr Peanutbutter, and is provided for. Her character resonates with me, although my husband isn’t a Labrador, as much as that might be nice. He’d then have some words of wisdom like these:

    The universe is a cruel, uncaring void. The key to being happy isn’t the search for meaning, its just to keep yourself busy with unimportant nonsense and eventually, you’ll be dead.

    It’s pretty bleak for a cartoon.

    I still love video games 

    I had a jacket potato and baked beans for lunch. Very British, and a much needed change from eating lunch out and having a couple of glasses of Sauvignon.

    I played ‘The Sims’ for a couple of hours. I’m really not doing anything for the home today, am I? My Sim doesn’t have a job and I’ve styled her as a 1950s housewife. She’s not as complex as the characters in BoJack. She is, however, a vampire and a movie star. I don’t think The Sims is realistic enough to do an experiment of seeing if not working and looking after the home will be fulfilling enough. Still a fun way to spend some time though. 

    I pottered around a bit again, with slightly more energy than this morning, At least I’ve cleaned the work surfaces, blitzed the bathroom, and done the hoovering.

    A solo night 

    My husband came home to get ready before going out for a curry with some friends. He was complaining about some dry skin when he got out of the shower. I went into Trad Wife mode for half an hour, and gave him a facial. He’s been dual clensed, toned, serumed and moisturised. I do like looking after him, and I think he likes it too.

    After he left, I roasted some potatoes, red peppers, halloumi and chorizo, and ate it from my favourite bowl in front of more BoJack. Is there any data that shows what age you suddenly realise you have a favourite bowl? I’m interested to know.

    It’s been a completely average and uneventful day. I liked it. 

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Hours sleep last night: 5
    Favourite episode of BoJack: Free Churro
    Hours played The Sims: 4
    Personal usefulness rating: 2/5

  • Day 29: Mortgage woes and Duolingo

    What’s a love language?

    It was cold this morning. I woke up at 5:50, and put the heating on. I got back into bed and snuggled up to my husband. I’m cold, his ‘love language’ is physical touch, everyone wins. Who even made up love languages? Mine’s meant to be ‘Acts of service’, that’s not such a great one to get. It makes me seem egotistical. But really, I’m just appreciative when someone takes the bins down. 

    I fell back asleep for ten minutes, then a standard morning began. My husband got up and ready, we had our kiss at the door, then back to bed with a can of Monster. Not so much back to bed, as I sausage rolled in the duvet and laid on the floor next to the radiator. 

    Duolingo is my current drug. I did an hour of practice before I got up properly. If someone needs to ask for a red hat and a new sweater in Italy, I’m your woman.

    I got up and started the cleaning at 9am. 

    I had to make ‘that’ call

    After cleaning the kitchen, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I needed to call the mortgage broker and tell her that I’ve been made redundant, and we need to be re-evaluated solely on my husband’s salary. 

    It wasn’t an easy call to make. 

    When I first called, our broker checked the figures and we were 30k short of meeting the requirements for our mortgage. I told her my husband has had bonuses and some paid overtime. She asked for new payslips to see if she could make it work. 

    This is shit. Really, really shit. We need to sort it, and I’m trying to sort it. But I’m having to admit to something I don’t want to. I’m not comfortable with the part of Trad life that means you don’t have your own income.

    I emailed over my husband’s payslips. Our mortgage broker is good, really good. She called me back 15 minutes later and had already updated our details and thinks she can make it work. We’re 99% there.

    It might mean that I’m not named on the mortgage, and it might mean I could potentially be listed as a dependent. I’m happy we haven’t lost the sale. I also have a lot of feelings again about how I almost lost it for us. 

    I did a bit more cleaning then went out to meet my mum for lunch. We ate chips, shared our Duolingo progress and chatted, it was nice.

    Photo by Alaur Rahman on Pexels.com

    A Monday roast 

    When I got back after lunch, I continued the cleaning, and started the cooking. My husband asked for a ‘Chicken dinner’, I think that means roast. I hope it means roast, I love roasts. 

    My husband came home. He was having some political argument over the phone when he walked in, and for about 20 minutes after. I told him how much it stresses me out. A ‘good’ Trad wife might have just accepted that this is something my husband needs to do, or maybe they’d voice their opinion like I did. I think it’s the latter.

    A couple of hours later, we sat together and ate the roast, dipping Yorkshire puddings into gravy as we watched an episode of Black Mirror. The world is fucked. I should stop watching shows about how the world is fucked. But it is, and I like the commentary.

    I went and sat in bed, still reflecting. I feel like I’ve let us down. I could have played it differently. But the sale probably won’t fall through, and it’s probably all going to be ok. 

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Glasses of Sauvignon: 1
    Roast potatoes eaten: 4
    Mortgage: Probably OK
    Italian: Poor to vaguely conversational, but rising

  • Day 28: Choosing to give up financial responsibility

    We woke up early this morning, sadly no zoo trip planned, but I was sure it would be a nice day even without red pandas. 

    I scrolled Reddit, while my husband had gone to play Rocket League in the spare room, from what I understand it’s football, with cars, in space. 

    I came across a Reddit post that made my heart palpitate and sink at the same time. It was about someone who was part way through buying their first house and had been made redundant, they wanted to know the legalities behind it. 

    This is our exact situation. I am officially employed for 11 more days. Our purchase will not go through in 11 days. We’re on the cusp of achieving an almost impossibility for millennials, and own property. Yes, it is harder now, and no, I have no interest in listening to anyone who wants to argue against this. One fewer order of Starbucks or avocado toast doesn’t solve the housing crisis. The time just crept up on me, and this morning, it sunk in, we could be fucked. 

    It’s not fair, none of this is fair. 

    Photo by Julias Torten und Tu00f6rtchen on Pexels.com

    I can’t give any detail here, other than I had a decision to make about my redundancy, my husband wouldn’t have made the same one. I feel guilty. 

    While drinking my morning can of Monster in bed, I emailed our solicitors to chase them up and ask again what the hold up was, and then messaged our landlord to give him an update. We’re buying the flat we’re currently renting, we love it here. I really don’t want this to fall through. 

    Me and my husband chatted for a while and went through our options. What a lot of people would tell you is “Just don’t tell the solicitors and mortgage company, they’ll probably never find out.” But what if they do? It’s fraud. If we’re the rare people who do get checked again on exchange, I’ve got fraud against my name and won’t be able to work in financial services again, which is what I’ve known for many years. My stomach was in knots. 

    I may be considered a fool by many people for doing this, but after chatting it through, we’ve agreed I’ll call our mortgage broker tomorrow and let them know there’s been a change in circumstances. I guess we’re doing the ‘right’ thing, but it would be easier to do if big banks weren’t so morally questionable.

    Photo by AS Photography on Pexels.com

    So tomorrow, I’ll be doing what could be considered the most Trad Wife thing to date. I’ll be organising to change our mortgage into solely my husband’s name. With his wages and the property value, we should be fine. Should.

    We are, in essence, putting the entire financial burden onto my husband. I have feelings about this, many feelings, the largest of which is failure. I’ve always been so proud of being financially independent. I moved out at 18, and have largely managed everything myself. My mum sent me £100 a month when I first moved out, I was earning £13.5k, and greatly appreciated the extra. 

    I will not be named on the mortgage. I will not be legally responsible.

    I’m going to try to view this from a Trad Wife lens. It might help me to try and think of it in the abstract, rather than the very real situation we’re in. 

    This used to be the norm. Up until the 1970s, women still often had to have their husband’s signature and permission to open bank accounts. I’ve unintentionally gone further into the past, than simply donning a 1950s style dress. 

    I trust my husband, and trust is essential in a Trad relationship. And he’s looking after me financially, that’s the norm in Trad relationships too. I don’t feel indebted to him, I’d do the same if the tables were turned. But I’m feeling uncomfortable, grateful and guilty.

    Photo by Snappr on Pexels.com

    Oh! And we had a nice day. We went out for jerk chicken for lunch, and chilled in the evening. No cleaning was achieved, but this feels like the most Trad Wife day to date. I’ll share my weekly round up tomorrow, as today’s blog seems to have been a little single focussed.

    The Trad Wife round up:

    The Sex Discrimination act: Came into force in 1975
    Employment will officially end: In 11 days
    Drop in household income: 60%
    Feeling: Trust in my husband, and guilt in myself

  • Day 27: Turn up to the zoo first thing on a rainy Saturday

    A not so lazy Saturday morning 

    We woke up early to get to the zoo when it opened. We really just want to see the red pandas, they’re hilarious and silly, and definitely worth a day out to see. 

    I failed at Trad-wifery by 6:45 as I hadn’t stocked up on cans of Monster for my husband. He has the same caffeine addiction as I do, but I like the peach ones and he likes the white ones. Maybe, we’re made for each other. I’m sure we are, but I don’t think morning cans of Monster are the heart of our relationship. 

    We got in the car and went on our way, it’s only an hour trip. We have a reasonably new Land rover Discovery, a car that feels very apt for a Trad relationship. I’m still seeing elements of this as ‘a look’, but I know it’s not all about the optics. It is a work vehicle, my husband drives between 500 and 1,000 miles a week, he needs a big car to fit tools in, and at 6’3 he would be bent in two in anything much smaller. 

    We had a lovely drive up, listening to early 00s rock music and talking about division of money and debt. I was in a lot of debt when we met, upwards of 20k. It was suffocating. Covid and a couple of big promotions helped me clear it. Getting into debt is so easy: questionable relationships, bad choices and mostly my pride caused mine. When I initially told my husband about my debt a few dates in, he saw that it could have been a red flag. Luckily he understood who I was, and how I ended up there.

    We pulled up to the zoo at five minutes before opening. 

    The zoo

    If I can give any advice to anyone reading this, turn up to a zoo at opening, on a rainy Saturday, and then walk past the first few exhibits. We were ahead of the crowd for the first hour, with just us at each exhibit. It was amazing. Watching animals just makes me happy. They have stress-free, job-free lives. Just like me. There’s always ethical concerns around zoos, but the money this one puts into conservation and the nice life they give the animals makes it feel morally OK by me. 

    We headed to the red pandas, taking in giraffes, dik-diks, wallabys, zebras and okapi on the way. The red pandas took a while to come out, but when they did, oh my! You just have to smile watching the silly creatures ambling about and running up and down branches. We love red pandas, we have a stuffy red panda ‘pan-pan’ that I cuddle with when my husband works away…also sometimes when he’s home. I’m ok still having the odd stuffed animal, it’s comforting to cuddle something soft. 

    By about 11:30 the zoo was filling up, still not busy, as it was drizzling by then. We did a second lap round to see all the animals we didn’t on the first loop. The snow leopard evaded us, but all other animal sightings achieved. 

    It was a great morning. We were hungry, and drove off to find lunch. There was a beer and mexican food place quite close, so we headed there. We both rated it 9/10. Tacos great, nachos great, cauli wings great, and of course New Zealand Sauvignon great. 

    After lunch we drove back home. I fell asleep at the exact place I always do on that motorway, and woke up at the exact place I always do five minutes from home. My husband doesn’t mind if I nap in the car, he listens to LBC, and probably enjoys 20 minutes without me nattering on about red pandas.

    Oh yes, I’m meant to be a Trad Wife

    We had quite a normal afternoon, like we would when I was working. I was watching TV and learning Italian on Duolingo, my husband was on the Playstation and learning Polish on Duolingo. I’ve started trying to learn Italian for about the sixth time, as I want to make the most of the time I’ve now got. So if I ever need to say “I have a tall daughter who likes salad” Duolingo has me covered.

    I jumped into Trad Wife mode at about 8pm when I realised we hadn’t had dinner. I offered my husband cheese toasties, picky bits or a quick chicken dinner. He asked for French toast, so French toast it was, topped with bacon and maple syrup and served with yesterday’s leftover arrancini. 

    My husband is now in a food coma snoozing next to me, and I’m watching BoJack Horseman. It’s sad, deep and philosophical as far as cartoons go. I used to have a BoJack quote as my phone’s home screen “It gets easier. Every day it gets a little easier. But you gotta do it every day. That’s the hard part. But it does get easier.” 

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Red Pandas seen: We think 2, but it could have just been a really speedy 1
    Tacos eaten: 22
    French toast with bacon made: 4
    Personal Trad Wife rating: 2/5, it was a ‘normal’ day, not a ‘Trad’ day

  • Day 26: 50s chic

    Un-caffeinated

    I woke up with no husband, no kiss, and vitally, no can of Monster. I cannot function without caffeine. I feel like there’s a judgement against people who drink energy drinks, it’s no worse than having several coffees a day. It’s just my choice of morning stimulant. The optics of it aren’t very Trad Wife though. 

    I headed to Tesco to procure a morning can of Monster, I put on an outfit that looked fitting for someone going for a morning jog, three quarter trackies and a fitted vest. I could have worn anything, but for whatever reason I wanted to appear in a certain way at 6:55 on a Friday morning. I picked up a can of Monster, and headed back home. 

    I returned to bed, drank the essential caffeinated beverage and then spent two hours making the house warm, cosy and sparkling clean. 

    I then got ready to meet my friend and her five month old for lunch. 

    Photo by Erik Mclean on Pexels.com

    Out for lunch again

    My friend Lynds parked up, and we walked to town with her little one in a pram. He’s a great small human. Neither me or my husband ever want any of our own, but I still love my friend’s kids. I don’t know why I never got the expected womanly urge to procreate, but I didn’t. I hate when people ask me when me and my husband will have children. I don’t use hate lightly, it boils in me when people ask. They shouldn’t.

    We had a lovely lunch across two pubs, and caught up and gossiped over wine. We gossip a lot when we’re together. It’s never malicious gossip, just who’s doing what, where, when and why. 

    I headed back home with only three hours to make dinner and beautify myself before my husband got home. 

    Photo by Vika Glitter on Pexels.com

    1950s chic

    I got back, poured a glass of prosecco and started blasting through the cooking. I think I’m beginning to understand why 1950s housewives did so many drugs. How am I going to look perfect and relaxed and have dinner ready for my husband when he walks in the door. I think I have a bit of weed stashed away somewhere in the house, but that would have the opposite effect I need. I have no speed or uppers, it never really did it for me. 

    I somehow finished the cooking with 20 minutes to spare. Arrancini, meatballs, aioli, parmesan broccoli, steak, and white wine porcini mushrooms all prepped and ready. 

    I finished my makeup and hair, and dressed up in a new 50s style dress I’d bought for the flourish of a Trad Wife evening. This was just for fun, not what I think being a Trad Wife is, but I feel pretty. It’s really nice to feel pretty. I don’t dress up a lot, I’m a jeans and t-shirt girl. Feeling pretty is nice, that might sound like an anti-feminist thing to say. I don’t see it like that, I chose to do it, no one asked me, and I feel pretty, and feeling pretty is nice. 

    My husband came home and I met him at the door with a kiss, a drink, and my feminine 50s look. 

    We listened to some 80s music, Jessie’s Girl is a jam. We then chatted cuddled up on the sofa with our two course Italian feast. 

    Today, I have no complaints.

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Feeling: Pretty, and OK with that
    Children: 0
    Dinner: 9.5/10
    I wish that I had: Jessie’s girl

  • Day 25: A good Trad Wife day

    A morning with mum 

    I woke up early, no husband at home, no kiss at the door, but still a can of Monster in bed. 

    My stomach pain has mostly gone, I still blame the hotdog. But I’m not going to give up on hotdogs altogether. Pain be damned.

    My mum came round, and we headed out to do some very housewifely chores. Drop a package at the post office, pick up cleaning supplies, and get the necessary items to make my own ‘scent packs’ to put in cupboards and wardrobes. 

    It seems the Trad Wife thing to do, is to make things more special than just picking up generic items. So rather than just buying some lavender sachets, I got some confetti bags, a load of rice, and some of my husband’s favourite essential oils to make DIY scent packs. It’s probably also more eco friendly, I won’t need to throw them out and buy more, I can just add a few more drops of oil when needed. 

    After wandering round Home Bargains, Home Sense and Hobby Craft we decided to get some lunch.

    Photo by Tree of Life Seeds on Pexels.com

    What do I want to do with my life? 

    We went to The Harvester for lunch, it’s cheap and cheerful and I enjoy a salad bar more than I’d admit. Also they have The Ned Sauvignon. 

    We talked a bit about what I was going to do once the experiment has ended. And honestly, I still have no idea. What I do know, is that I need to stop LinkedIn notifications on my phone:

    Every time one pings up I can feel my stress building. 

    What I know for sure, is it’s nicer not working. And that’s not something I ever thought I’d say, as obvious as it is. I’ve said it before, and it’s true, but I really did love my job. But not being stressed, making a lovely home and spending more time with the people I love is better. Far better. We need income, I’ll almost certainly need to get another job. But I’m beginning to wonder whether it would be better to do something lower stress or part time so we still have the benefits of this new life. I didn’t think my view would change so much, but it is. Maybe it’ll stick, maybe it won’t. 

    We went to M&S on the way back and I picked up some ingredients to make my husband a wonderful dinner tomorrow night. 

    On the drive back home we were coming up with some new animals based insults. I often say: If you’re going to be a silly goose, get back in the pond. The best new one to the repertoire is: Make yourself useful and go dig up some truffles if you’re going to act like a pig. 

    I’m looking forward to being able to drop one of our new insults into a conversation soon. 

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    I’ve finally done some ironing 

    I made the scent packs when I got home, I’m really happy with how they’ve come out. My whole flat smells like essential oils now, that’s the warm homely vibe I wanted. 

    With another documentary on in the background I started the usual cleaning. I’m converted to using a vinegar mix for the surfaces rather than polish, it lasts longer and cleans better. 

    I’d been toying with getting a carpet shampooer. But we really just have one large Persian style rug I want to deep clean, so I decided to just clean the whole thing with one of those scrubbing stain remover brushes. It took ages, and it’s come up a treat. 

    I then did something I’ve not done in a long time. I ironed. I didn’t iron everything, but I did iron some things. I didn’t hate it, with the TV on in the background it was quite relaxing. I don’t think I’ll start ironing everything, but maybe I’ll keep doing some things. I’ll find out tomorrow if my husband notices the difference. 

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    I kept cleaning on and off until about 8:30, then sat down with a glass of prosecco and ordered a takeaway. 

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Scent bags made: 15
    LinkedIn notifications: off
    If you’re being a silly goose: get back in the pond
    Pizza: En route

  • Day 24: Red pandas and stomach pain

    Oh dear

    It’s another day of a very short blog. Today I have spent the entire day in bed with an upset stomach. Lovely. Stomach bug? Food poisoning? Pre-menstrual? Who knows, it’s painful though. I’m blaming food. 

    I guess that’s what I get for not being home in time to make a proper dinner last night and eating out. I might have gone off hot dogs for a while, that’s probably not a bad thing. I love hot dogs. They are utterly disgusting through, and the polar opposite of anything I’d make at home. 

    Luckily my husband’s away, so there’s nothing I need to do. Not that it would be imposed by him anyway. I caught him doing a load of washing the other day, maybe he does find it difficult to give up housework to me entirely. Or maybe, I just didn’t get there quick enough? That is quite possible.

    I’ve just put some plain pasta on, that will be a very dull dinner, but it’s food, and it won’t upset my stomach further, hopefully. 

    Tomorrow I’ll be fine I’m sure. 

    My husband and I are planning a trip to an ethical zoo on Saturday to see the red pandas. So that’s nice. That’ll keep my brain happy. For now though, I’m still in bed and will have an early night.

    Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Feeling: In pain
    Watching: Some documentary on WW2
    Glasses of wine: 0
    Red Pandas: Adorable

  • Day 23: I don’t think we’re in Dorset anymore

    The train was 22 minutes late 

    Wake up, kiss at the door, can of Monster. 

    I’m meeting my dad for a couple of hours today, so I decided to leave the cleaning till this afternoon. There will be loads of time before my husband gets home. I got up and ready, then got a bus down to the train station. 

    It’s a nice journey through the Dorset countryside. Headphones on, listening to my Spotify ‘Daily Mix 1’, which features New Found Glory, The Offspring and Knuckle Puck. The train started 7 minutes late, it was 22 minutes late by the time I met my dad at the station.

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    Dad 

    Spending time with my dad is never an effort or an obligation. He is the person I want to sit with until 3am, drinking gin and listening to music. We talked for three hours, across two pubs, and much wine. We forgot to have lunch. 

    It wasn’t always the easiest relationship when I was younger. We didn’t ‘get’ each other. But as two adults, we now do. We’re similar, maybe too similar. We love a glass of wine or two, going to rock gigs, poetry and books and we accept not everyone likes us, and often those who don’t, really don’t. But most people do, we think, or hope? 

    We talked about laying rubble, Trad Wife life, cooking and side tracked to goodness knows what else. My dad’s been reading my blog, he’s not surprised by a single thing I’ve written. That’s a really good thing, we’re very honest with each other. When a relationship has been strained in the past, you put a greater value on the time you have. 

    We met up with his partner, and they walked me back to the train station. 

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    Where am I? 

    I sat on the train, noise cancelling headphones on, music playing. 

    Then I woke up.

    I wasn’t still in Dorset, I was in a forest somewhere, I hoped I wasn’t beyond Hampshire. 

    I haven’t missed a stop on a train in years, but I was nearly an hour past my stop. I got off the train nonchalantly, and got the next train going back in the opposite direction. 

    I wasn’t going to get back home before my husband, the house wouldn’t be warm and welcoming for him to come back to, and dinner wouldn’t be on the table in time. It’s going to be a failure of a Trad Wife day. 

    We bickered when I got back, not because of the lack of cooking and cleaning, but because the boiler had lost pressure. What a stupid thing to bicker about. As soon as the boiler got back to 1.4 bar we were back to normal and went out for dinner. It’s the first time we’ve got snippy with each other since we started this experiment. We’re never annoyed at each other for long, and I don’t think I’d want a relationship where you agree all the time, even if what you disagree about is the pressure of the boiler. 

    Photo by Heiko Ruth on Pexels.com

    Cuddled in bed

    Full of hot dog, burger, jalapeno bites and tater tots we snuggled down together in bed to watch some TV. We gave the first episode of ‘Mitchell and Webb are not helping’ a go, it’s on Channel 4, so my husband was learning Polish on Duolingo in the adverts. It’s not the funniest thing they’ve ever done, but undoubtedly I’ll watch the whole series anyway. 

    It’s been another not at all Trad day, but a good day nonetheless. 

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Miles travelled in the wrong direction: 30
    Mitchell and Webb are not helping rating: 3/5
    Glasses of wine: 4
    Bickering: Essential