I don’t know if you’ve ever seen About a Boy, but there’s an idea in that film that has always stuck with me. The fancy-free Will (a fabulously floppy-haired Hugh Grant) lives off the royalties of a Christmas song written by his late father, and is subsequently minted, jobless and indulgent. Without the structure of a job, he splits his day into half hour “units,” chunks of time that aren’t intimidatingly long, but that create a blueprint for each day.
As someone with a varied-at-best work schedule, I too go with the unit approach, especially when staring into the void of a particularly scarce or particularly hectic week. Morning coffee: one unit, workout: two units, existential fretting: three units (but that’s a personal preference). There are work units and play units, and they all combine to create a day, a week a month.
But, I’ve been thinking. Is fun in a box really that fun? Can you truly plan a good time? Is the neurosis of being an ~organised~ person getting in the way of true pleasure? If we have pencilled-in joy, is the rest of the day designated NOT JOY?!
Now, this isn’t a tutorial on how to have fun- that seems reductive. But what it is is a reminder to loosen up a little, flirt with yourself, dare I say it leisure yourself.
Leisure yourself at home
A night at home with yourself- how indulgent. And I’m not talking a rush home-shower-show-sleep kind of night. We’re talking light a candle, pour a glass, Alexa play Amy Winehouse radio. I am convinced that wholly submitting to a night of leisure can give a natural glow, a flush that is discernible only to those who know it themselves. There is no room for units tonight, it’s about following your instincts and doing what feels right.
I’m not here to dictate how you achieve your leisure, that’s your job, just know that there is no room for guilt. Your to-do list can wait until morning. This is less about self-care, more about finding the fun when no fun is planned.
Leisure yourself in public
A public leisuring may seem obvious: you could go to a play, take yourself shopping, order that dessert… but I want you to think outside that fun box we discussed earlier. Public leisure isn’t about what you do, rather how you do it. Going to a play: three units. Walking the long way home from said play without taking your phone from your bag, however, is the kind of leisure that can’t be bound by units or plans. It’s the people-watching at the cafe, rather than the flat white itself. A park bench is the perfect place to leisure yourself, and the joy of being in public is recognising your fellow leisure-seekers in the wild.
Leisure yourself with friends
While it is important to learn to cultivate solo leisure, companions are welcome, nay, crucial passengers on the lifelong leisure train. Brunch is good, brunch is fun, but brunch has the potential to masquerade as leisure- a pseudoleisure, if you will.
In all of leisuredome, this is the real nirvana- being able to sincerely feel leisure with others, unbound by schedules or distractions or the past or the future. It’s a rarity worth cultivating that requires carving out time for each other. Of course, carving out quality time for a spot of group leisuring is a luxury, so don’t cancel the brunch. Rather, aim for such rendezvous to be consciously leisuresome, and not just a jot in the diary.
I don’t want to give any About a Boy spoilers, but Will figured this out too. Maybe truly leisuring yourself is less about finding fulfilment in life’s units or appointments or routine, but rather allowing yourself to forego it all. Being able to cultivate joy that is unscheduled and unbound by a timetable is to allow it to permeate through your every day. Schedule a time to leisure yourself, and you may find you leisure yourself all day.
Katie Muirhead 