The Accidental Trad Wife

Impulsively buying salt

Cottage pie and a good rest had done the trick, I woke up migraine free. Not quite bright eyed and bushy tailed, but close to. 

One of the problems with migraines is sometimes a poorly thought out impulse purchase can be made. I made such a purchase late last night, and bought 1.4 kilos of Maldon salt from Amazon. There really does seem to be a shortage locally at least, maybe it’s even a national problem. Are other people not as passionate about this as me? Probably not front page worthy, but maybe it should be in the food and drink section of a paper. 

As much as this may have been an impulse purchase, it’s not one I regret. I found out this morning that the Queen was in agreement and gave Maldon a Royal Warrant, I’m certain she wouldn’t have accepted such a shortage. I’m not a royalist, but that woman had great taste in hats, and salt.

Cooking and cleaning like a demon 

I had the whole day to myself. My husband is working in Scotland and wasn’t due back until late afternoon. And no plans today for lunch, drinks or beauty treatments. 

I thought about what makes a ‘perfect’ housewife, and decided that it was of great importance to have an array of homemade baked goods to offer guests. If someone turns up last minute I’d like to be able to serve up something special along with their coffee or martini. I pondered on what freezes and reheats well.

I cleaned the kitchen, then made cheese scones. Cleaned the bathroom, started some bread. Cleaned the bedrooms, knocked back and second kneeded the bread. Cleaned the lounge, made a quiche Lorraine. Gave myself a well earned break, then finished off rolls, flat breads and garlic focaccia. 

I bought some marigolds yesterday, but for whatever reason didn’t wear them when cleaning, so once again my nails are chipped. 

I had left my phone in the bedroom and hadn’t looked at it in hours. How am I looking at my phone less without a job than with one? I sat down and started replying to WhatsApps over a glass of prosecco and yet another crime documentary. 

Homecoming 

My husband was due home in an hour. I was wearing an old dress I’ve taken to cleaning in, hadn’t showered yet, and my hair made me look more than vaguely like a sea witch. 

I jumped in the shower, and then put on some joggers and a t-shirt. This isn’t a very Trad Wife look. Although I’m not sure what is, or whether it even matters. I feel it probably doesn’t, it’s about who you are, and what you’re bringing to the home, right? Maybe next week I’ll sort my hair and makeup and pop on a frock for my husband’s return. He likes it when I’m dressed up, but he loves me just as much in joggers. But maybe it’ll be nice to try out. We’ll see. 

As always, I kissed my husband at the door and listened to him as he talked about his day. He took out his retainers and tried all the baked goods. He’s less than impressed with my garlic focaccia. He’s going through Invisalign, I did it too and finished about a year ago. I never thought I was that vain, but I did spend 4k on a better smile. 

I sat watching rubbish TV and watching music on YouTube, as my husband played on his Xbox. I’m guessing it was something competitive as he was going between laughing maniacally and saying “What are they playing at!”. 

We sat together and had dinner a couple of hours later. Of course, as well as all the baking, I’d also made a full dinner featuring marinaded chicken and whipped feta with honey. 

My husband ate over half the quiche, most of the rolls and made a good dent in the rolls and flat breads. I’ll start baking again tomorrow.

The Trad Wife round up:

Cheese scones made: 2424
Nails chipped: 4
Tom Petty songs listened to while cooking: 5
Hair: Over 2 foot long and sea-witchy

Today may end up being my shortest blog. 

I’ve been fending off a migraine for the last two days. It’s been lurking behind my left eye. That’s where they always start for me.

After coming back from a lovely morning wandering round charity shops, I had a nap. When I woke up, the migraine had finally won. 

So, I’ve taken to bed for the rest of the day with my curtains drawn. If I give into it, rest, and eat the left over cottage pie hopefully the bugger will be gone by the morning. 

The Trad Wife round up:

Sentences in my blog: 8
Co-codamol taken: 4 tablets so far
Curtains: Shut
Left eye: Currently has my first pressing into it

Productivity, or lack there of

Today there was no morning routine. I had nothing to do. I cleaned the kitchen after our friend left last night, and the rest of the flat was already clean and tidy. If I started the day cleaning, it would be for no other reason than to fill my time. So I didn’t.

I wasted my time in a different way, or just chose to spend it differently. I sat in bed and played mindless games on my phone. I matched one colourful shape with another, battled dragons and pointed balls at blocks. This was not productive. But I guess not all time needs to be. Sometimes just ‘taking your brain out’ for a couple of hours is a good thing, and I got a good dopamine hit from matching things and battling dragons. 

I painted my nails, hot pink. I really need to buy some marigolds, my varnish used to last at least two weeks.

My husband is away for the next two days. I have no shopping to buy, no dinners to make. I could, of course, make a fancy dinner for myself, and sometimes I do. But often when it’s just me to cook for, it’s more likely to be beans on toast or sausage and mash. 

At midday, I microwaved leftover BBQ beans from last night’s dinner, and grated some cheese on the top.

I had a nap. 

Guinness, Sauvignon and coffee

I met my mum early in the afternoon. We had a drink in the local dive bar, wandered round the shops, then had another drink in a different non-dive bar. 

We discussed trans rights, femininity and weird art. We also touched on weight. Like many people, I’ve struggled with my weight over the years. I’m currently 10 pounds overweight. I’ve been far more overweight, and I’ve hovered at being underweight to a point of concern. 

There’s a lot I could muse on about weight: media portrayal, mental health and Instagram culture as starters. I won’t hash over points we’re already all aware of. There’s not a lot more that can be said, or that will add anything new.

Instead I’ll tell you about me. In the past I’ve been obsessed to the point of a near constant awareness. I’ve counted every calorie. I’ve tried pills and contraptions. I’ve downloaded and religiously followed apps. I’ve followed every fad. And shamefully, I’ve visited websites that I hope no one else ever does. 

Now, I’m at peace, at least somewhat. I’ll always look in the mirror at bits of me that are too flabby and internalise that horrible feeling. But I’m determined to never go back to where I once was. I eat healthily, I drink a lot of water and occasionally I even exercise.

When the cat’s away

I realised there’s still some things on my goals for the week I haven’t achieved. 

I approach the waterfall of clothes in my wardrobe. There’s a lot that can go. I sort through my sweaters and dresses and fill a bin bag. Some went because of they were too small. Others because they were too big. There’s still many drawers to go through, but it’s a solid start. Tomorrow I might attempt my t-shirts, but that might take several people to decide what ‘quirky’ slogans and designs are most suitable for a woman approaching 40. 

Tonight I’ve decided against beans on toast or sausage and mash. I made the very simple treat I make myself when my husband is working away, cottage pie. When I first learned my husband didn’t like any kind of pie I had to seriously reconsider the relationship. But, I’ll forgive him this transgression, and just make myself a cottage pie whenever he works away. 

I watched ‘Wednesday’ on Netflix and ate the cottage pie straight out of the pan.

The Trad Wife round up:

Household chores: 0
Cottage pies cooked: 1
Weight: 10lbs over
Feeling: Accepting in my lack of productivity

Finances

Today is payday. I’m still on garden leave from my job and technically employed. But in two months we will potentially move to solely my husband’s wages. Our overall household income will drop by more than 50%. It’s unnerving.

As part of the original terms of the experiment, we’d said that all spending will come out of the joint account. But as I still have an income, we’ve agreed to keep to our previous arrangement: a 50/50 split on bills and spending. 

In my initial draft of today’s blog I’d listed some figures of future budgets and past spending. I’ve removed it. I could use the excuse that it’s crass to mention figures and talk about money, but that’s not the truth, I’m ashamed. 

The average couple in the UK spends £71 per week on groceries and £25 – £30 per week on eating out and takeaways. Needless to say, our spending is considerably more.

I’ve often joked we’re champagne socialists. But it’s hit me hard today. We are. I send a donation to the Trussell Trust. This doesn’t lift the guilt, and I don’t think it should. I’ve always known we were privileged, I just never sat with the feeling and really considered the extent. I don’t know what we’ll do differently in the future, I just know we have to change. 

There are over 7.3 million adults in the UK experiencing food insecurity. I already knew this statistic, I just didn’t sit with it. 

A mixed morning

I got up and went about my normal routine. I really should do the washing up the night before, it took me a lot of scrubbing with wire wool to get the lasagne pan clean. 

I hung up the sheets over the curtain rail in the lounge with hope that they’ll get enough sun to dry, then put in another load of laundry. We’re running out of Smol capsules. 

In my pre Trad Wife days I was part way through completing a level 7 apprenticeship in HR and learning strategy. I had a call with my apprenticeship tutor to formalise the break in learning. If I start a new job within a year I can pick it back up. It’s another uncertainty.

I tried on some dresses for a wedding we’re attending tomorrow. I landed on a Phase Eight petrol blue number. It came from a charity shop, but that was my choice. 

I put on my Levi’s, a Vans t-shirt, and my Nike high tops, cleaned my teeth with my Suri toothbrush and spritzed myself with Jo Malone perfume. I sat again considering my privilege, then grabbed my fjallraven tote bag and headed out for lunch and shopping with my mum.

Donburi discussions

We parked up and wandered around the shops and down the gardens to the beach. We chatted about how nice it is to live in a seaside town, growing up working class, and privilege. 

My mum wanted a big bowl of veg for lunch, she almost always wants a big bowl of veg for lunch, so I suggested Wagamama, where we’d be able to get a big bowl of veg for lunch. 

We had a build your own donburi each, mum had shitake with cauliflower rice, I had double prawn with brown rice. Over a yuzu and lychee G&T my mum said to me all feelings are valid, and reflection is a positive thing.

Housewife fails and tonight’s dinner

My husband was due home in an hour, I’d forgotten to take the washing out of the machine and he needs a shirt for tomorrow. I added an extra spin, took the shirt out, and put it on a hanger in the window, hopefully it’ll be dry by the morning. While I hang up the rest of the washing on an airer, it’s clear that a tissue was left in a pocket somewhere, half the clothes are dotted in fluff. Great. I order some lint rollers for next day delivery on Amazon, I can sort it tomorrow.

For dinner tonight, my husband wanted something lighter. So I prepared butterfly chicken breasts with a white wine, thyme and cream sauce, lemon and black pepper broccoli, sweet potato mash and parmesan crusted leeks. We enjoyed it. This meal cost half the average food bill for a week. 

The Trad Wife round up:

Debit card transactions: 5
Feeling: Reflective
Lint rollers ordered: 10
Adults in the UK experiencing food insecurity: 7.3 million

Working from home

My husband worked from home for the first couple of hours today. It made me self conscious about what I was doing. How will he feel seeing me in this new role? Will he think I’m doing enough for the home? Should I put my chores to the side until he’s left so I don’t distract him while he’s taking calls? 

I decided to follow my new routine while he was at his desk in the spare room: wash last night’s dishes, clean the kitchen, bleach the bathroom, take dry washing off the airers, put another load in the machine and generally potter and tidy.

A constant stream of calls came into my husband’s phone. I overheard him deal with one issue, immediately get another call, deal with that issue, this went on for about a dozen calls before 10am. I can tell he’s great at his job, just like I used to be. I don’t miss the constant calls, but it made me reflect on the satisfaction I got from working. 

Manicuring 

My nails are a mess. All the bleach and various other cleaning products are making the varnish chip off. I need to start wearing marigolds. I decide to do my nails and hope my husband doesn’t think this is all I’ll be doing today.

I’ve got more free time now, I can put more effort into painting my nails. I wondered if it would be more fitting for a Trad Wife to go to a salon. But for week one, I’ll still do them myself. 

Base coat, cure with UV lamp, black varnish, cure again, second coat of black varnish, cure again, dab metallic shimmer powder onto the nails, rub in the powder, clear top coat, cure a final time, wipe over with ‘Prep and wipe’. It took me about an hour and a half. They look beautiful, gold under some lights, fuchsia in others. 

My husband left to drive to a meeting in Peterborough while I was in the middle of doing my nails. He came over to kiss me goodbye. He might be back tonight, he might not, he says he’ll let me know. This is normal for us, he works away a lot. I previously enjoyed the time alone to decompress, I’m not so sure I will now.

I roll my eyes to myself as he walks down the stairs, I should have got up to kiss him at the door. This is becoming my favourite part of the day.

Tips from the past

There’s no big tasks to do today. I decide to open the 1956 ‘Young Wives’ Encyclopaedia’ to see if there’s any golden advice I can bring into my new life. 

In a section on beauty: ‘Imitate a cat by scratching on a cake of soap before starting on a dirty job in the garden or house when it is impossible to wear gloves.’ There’s some logic in that one, although I’m not quite sure under what circumstances popping on your marigolds wouldn’t be possible.

Under ‘Fits’ in a section on medicine: ‘Loosen all tight clothing, put a cork between the patient’s teeth to prevent the tongue being bitten, and afterwards allow to rest and sleep.‘ I better not follow everything in this book, as the current advice is to keep corks, spoons and anything else out of a seizing person’s mouth. 

An answer to an old wives’ tale: ‘Butter on a cat’s paws will prevent it from straying. This depends entirely on the cat!’ I’ll have to adopt and butter a cat to find out whether this is correct. 

The book ends with a lovely section on ‘Zest in the home’: ‘One of the golden rules for the happy housewife and the happy home is to be able to work to a plan without adhering so rigidly to routine that you cannot take time off to enjoy yourself.’ That advice seems just as sound today as it was 69 years ago. I decide to spend the next few hours taking care of myself, a long shower, a face mask and a nap. Day by day my stress is lifting. 

Another evening, another home cooked meal

I decided to make a lasagne. If my husband’s home, I’ve got something ready, if he’s not, lasagne is often better the next day anyway. 

I’ve just realised it’s been a pretty Italian heavy in this week’s dinners. Arrancini, gnocchi, pasta, pizza and now lasagne. This isn’t intentional, and we do both love Italian food, but I’ll mix it up more next week. 

I kiss my husband at the door. I time it so that the lasagne is ready 10 minutes after he gets home, so he has a chance to shower first. I’ve set out a clean white towel on his side of the bed. We have another lovely evening together chatting on the couch. Today was another good day. 

The Trad Wife round up:

Cats buttered: 0
Nails cured: 10
Work calls: 0
Kisses at the door: 1

Routine

I’m getting into a routine. 

I wake up with my husband when his alarm goes off, kiss him goodbye at the door as he heads off to work, then return to bed with a can of monster to sit and think about what I want to achieve during the day. 

The routine is nice. I wash up last night’s dinner dishes, give the kitchen a clean and then it’s a quick once over of the bathroom to keep it sparkling.  

I needed to call the doctors to sort out my epilepsy prescription. I wasn’t bothered by the 17 minute hold time. There’s not a meeting about to start on Teams, where I’ll have to hang up, lose my place in the queue, and then try and call them again on the next gap between meetings. I don’t miss that. 

I then returned a call relating to my redundancy. It was a brief chat, but it brought me straight back to the stress I felt. I don’t miss that either. 

Dismantling my past life

In my pre Trad Wife life I worked from home, and my desk is still set up in the spare room. It’s taken me a while to feel ready to tackle this, but today I feel ready. 

I move the two screens into our conservatory, and bag up laptops, keyboards and piles of unknown wires. Some day soon a courier will arrive to pick all of this up, but for the moment, it’s hidden away and I don’t need to think about it. 

The desk is bare. I give it a polish and think about what I want to do with the space. It’s no longer going to be where I chair meetings, give presentations and lead interviews. I loved my job, and I was really, really good at it. My future is so uncertain now.

My first thought was to dismantle the desk and create a little reading nook. But I’ve got nowhere to store the bits of desk, and I’d never be able to put it back together again. 

I decide to make it a space to write my blog, surrounded by things that inspire me and make me smile:

• illustrations of me and my dad at a Smashing Pumpkins gig
• books about being a housewife
• some of my favourite Jellycats (a camembert my husband gave me when I lost my job, an engagement ring given to me by one of my friends, and a good egg)
• a little wooden rabbit that reminds me of my grandpa
• and my laptop that is covered in ‘My Neighbour Totoro’ stickers

It’s a change. It’s bittersweet. I don’t know what this space will become in the future, but for now, it’s mine, and it does make me smile. 

Cooking and pottering

I messaged my husband and suggested making Detroit style pizza for dinner. If you’ve never had it, it’s thick based and incredibly indulgent. He loved the idea, and asked for chorizo, whipped feta and hot honey as toppings. My husband really does love the latest food trends, and hot honey is the one of 2025. 

I made a bread dough and kneaded it for 4 Hot Mulligan songs and left it to proof. Then I pottered and sorted through some washing. 

An hour later it hadn’t risen enough. I put a warm damp tea towel on top of the mixing bowl, turned the heating on and popped it by a radiator. It was already 24 degrees inside, but I sat in front of a fan, and planned to make sure the flat had cooled down again before my husband came home. 

I treated myself to an hour’s rest, poured a glass of prosecco and watched an episode of ‘Worst Ex Ever’ on Netflix. 

I was too hot and the dough wasn’t rising. I think the yeast might have died. I gave it another 30 minutes. 

Well, it had risen, a bit. I knocked the dough back, kneaded it to three songs from The Interrupters, and left it for a second proof. I made the pizza sauce, I couldn’t possibly mess that up: tomatoes, sweet, salt, acid, herbs.

My husband came home, I kiss him at the door. I tell him it’ll be thin base pizza for dinner. He’s still happy.

They were delicious.

The Trad Wife round up:

Unknown wires bagged up: At least 20
Different kinds of cheese used on the pizzas: 4
Failures at making dough: 1
Kisses at the door: 2