Lindsay Woods: Struggling with 'Slow Living' in Ireland

There’s a new form of hype in town: ‘Slow Living’. It is defined as follows: ‘A lifestyle emphasising slower approaches to everyday life’, writes Lindsay Woods.

The irony that the momentum of said movement has gained notable trajectory due to the speed of your broadband cannot be overlooked. Nothing denotes peak slow-living then entire Instagram accounts dedicated to same.

Enviable squares featuring smiling, outdoorsy families. With the ubiquitous photobomb courtesy of a glossy golden retriever, whose moniker came courtesy of an obscure lyric from an extensive vinyl collection. All images are bathed in warm, dappled sunlight which the likes of VSCO and Instagram only wish they could achieve with their own filters.

Now, let’s not be coy; there are people who have in fact invoked this way of living for centuries; before social media got a hold of it and rebranded it into the glossy images we see daily. But the thing is, I don’t want the real version (I don’t do well with draughts and foraging). I want the Instagram version.

There are a couple of factors which hinder my attaining of such. I only have two children.

Notably, a lesser number than what is required to afford proper use of the title, ‘My Tribe’. I live in a country with an annual average rainfall of approximately 1,200mm. It’s damp. Thus, limiting the opportunity for endless beach shots of my brood as they collect rocks/build forts/practice yoga, etc. I don’t own a dog. We co-habit with Satan’s Handmaiden, aka, Lulu Baby.

Yet, all of the above aside, the veritable ‘nail in the coffin’ as to why I cannot fully commit to the lifestyle I am so desperately envious of is… cold, hard cash. That’s right folks, nothing says, ‘My children dress in a palette of earth tones, don’t watch TV and shovel their greens into them’, better than a truckload of lolly.

The background of the individuals who escape the rat-race to fully embrace the social media version of slow-living, appears to be somewhat similar. Careers across a multitude of platforms involving either media and Dot-com ventures with hefty salaries to match or simply, the benefactors of family wealth, are dominant.

Property assets in desirable postcodes being another. All of this, enabled the lifestyle that we see within the confines of those little squares. It’s not begrudgery; it’s fact.

The reality is, that those covetable earth tones that ‘The Tribe’ are sporting, cost more than my weekly grocery shop. I also have not been ‘gifted’ them by a brand so therefore have to make the heart-wrenching decision as to whether I want the threads or pasta. It’s always pasta. If nothing but for it’s comforting properties as I weep into the bowl with the knowledge that I will never know the utter joy of a beachfront property.

However, I find these feeds relaxing. As relaxing as whiling away an hour locked into the matrix that is kitchen design. It’s just the dialogue that is beginning to grate a bit. The overuse of the word ‘content’ and ‘collab’ in the posts is tiresome. I just want to look at the pretty pictures, thanks. Here, we have it on a smaller scale on the ‘socials’, but it lacks the finesse: it’s not aspirational, it’s dated, reaching and a bit grabby. I want to envisage that my measly collection of wicker baskets will someday be used to gather lavender for soap making just like in the photo. My baskets long for that reality too: along with a break from hoofing a few frozen pizzas and a bottle of Aldi plonk in the torrential rain.

Instead, I fret about contributing to mid-tier pension schemes and healthcare plans. Which, whilst not a beachfront property, may afford us the luxury of a shandy at the bingo when we are of age and a lessened wait to access medical services if the need so arises.

I have given up on buying into the marketable aspects of slow-living that I can afford; do you ‘hygge’ or ‘lagom’? Yep, me neither. I’m pretty sure I was doing it all along before I bought the book that told me I was indeed, doing it all along. I have also acknowledged that I am not built for ‘slow-living’. They are constantly on the go. Surfing, swimming, hiking, mind-numbing intellectual excursions when you know the kids are just praying for an hour of screen time.

It appears to be the complete antithesis of its very definition.

So, I’ll take my version for what it’s worth, an hour of alone time, where no-one looks to be fed/changed/disengaged from mortal combat; with maybe a good book but more likely endless scrolling of those Instagram feeds. But, if any of you happen to hear of a bargain property (read: free) on the Gold Coast? Well, hook a sister up why don’t you?