By The Landlord
“The smell of that buttered toast simply spoke to Toad, and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cozy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one's ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the fender; of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries.” – Kenneth Grahame, The Wind In The Willows
“Surely everyone is aware of the divine pleasures which attend a wintry fireside; candles at four o'clock, warm hearth rugs, tea, a fair tea-maker, shutters closed, curtains flowing in ample draperies to the floor, whilst the wind and rain are raging audibly without.” – Thomas De Quincey, Confessions of an English Opium Eater
“Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?” – Rupert Brooke, The Old Vicarage, Grantchester
“Be present in all things, and thankful for all things.” – Maya Angelou
“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” – Cesar A. Cruz
“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand, and for a talk beside the fire: it is time for home.” – Edith Sitwell
“Live life today like there is no coffee tomorrow ... You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy cake which is almost the same thing.” – Meik Wiking
Perhaps it's the tales of bitter cold, dangerous adventure, and life on the extreme from our recent musical Antarctica trip, or the recent sudden freeze in the UK weather, but over the past couple of weeks I've been experiencing an uncharacteristic interest in high quality candles, rugs, and thick jumpers.
I've bought a big catch of expensive but discounted cat food for our furry residents, and ordered, then fitted some DIY secondary glazing in two of the draughtier rooms in our house. I've even picked up some pyjamas in a sale. I've not worn pyjamas since I was about nine years old. What the hell is going on? Am I nesting for the winter? Am I undergoing some kind of primal, hard-wired, bear-like hibernation instinct?
No, I'm still going out to live music and other events as much as usual, and I'm not inclined to stay in especially, but I have got out my thickest coat, top, hat and gloves. I've still been swimming outdoors, but this is now getting much tougher. I'm trying to channel some sort of distant Viking and Celtic heritage, and tell myself that our ancestors survived the ice age. But then again, there's also a flipside and a contrast of what comes afterwards - cosiness, warmth and comfort.
So this week's topic serves up a hot cup of cocoa, or even something stronger, after last week's theme, and is likely to be both a lyrical and mood one, focusing on anything - objects, clothing, food, drink or stories - that expresses feelings associated with cosiness and comfort. It might also offer up sounds alone that emanate cosiness. It might involve tales of the kindness and hospitality of strangers, of coming in from a storm into a warm bar, or a home, or of a sense of belonging, or simple comforts to be thankful for, community and family. In a sense, this Bar is designed, not merely to stimulate the senses and be a venue for discovery and sharing, but also for belonging, joy, and another of life's great comforts - a sense of meaning.
This is a subset of the larger subject of happiness, one that has been studied at length in academia and beyond in studies such as the World Happiness Report.
One of those studies found that Danish culture regularly comes high on the happiness list with formula for this in design and value systems of public provisional politics through an enlightened taxation system (also, let’s not forget, in Finland and other Scandinavian countries). Ironically in the wake of Nordic noir thrillers of brutal murder (such as Borgen, The Killing, or The Bridge) and but also fabulous knitwear, part of that culture was brought to a wider audience in the mid-2010s, in the now widely known term - hygge, something long served up alongside coffee and cake in cafes and more in that country, something we probably all enjoy wherever we are in the world.
It became internationally well known in the bestselling bedside companion book, Meik Wiking's The Little Book of Hygge: Danish Secrets to Happy Living (2016) and others that also subequently flooded the market. It would be easy to get lost in the potential wooliness of all of this, and think that you suddenly have to buy lots of nice new things for your house, but that's not the point. As Wiking puts it: “A developed country is not a place where the poor have cars. It’s where the rich use public transport. It is where the rich walk and where they use bikes. We should create cities where rich and poor meet as equals: in parks, on the sidewalks, on public transport.”
Hygge is all about being appreciative of what you have, and making more of less. As the cake-obsessed Wiking also says: “Like most things, the more we have of something, the less happiness we derive from it. The first slice of cake: awesome. The fifth slice: not so good.”
What about the famous Danish design? There’s a lot that can be said about how architecture and furnishings affect how we behave. But in short: “It doesn’t cost money to light a room correctly – but it does require culture.” Candle lighting is nothing new of course.
Candles for comfort, anyone?
There is much sense to the psychology of much of what's written about hygge. Warm lighting, for example, is definitely a source of comfort. Candles make for better conversation, glowing faces, and longer family dinners. Home cooked food is important to the philosophy. Nice, comfortable chairs too, not only in your favourite corner place, but also always having a spare one, so it is always inviting for someone else to join you. There is always a spare chair here for anyone at the Bar of course ...
Knitwear might make an appearance
But what else might fulfil our instinct for cosiness and comfort? There are a few more guests gathered around the roaring Song Bar hearth, with items to suggest.
Sharon Van Etten is here, a glass in hand, and dressed in red: "I have this red cardigan that my friend Coco gave me that has holes for thumbs. It's my cozy sweater. I wear it a lot."
Writer Jeanette Winterson is also enjoying the ambience, and has a copy of her book Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? on our Bar shelves. “Books, for me, are a home. Books don’t make a home––they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book, and you go inside. Inside there is a different kind of time and a different kind of space.”
And here's Jane Austen, with a sentence from Emma: “Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.”
So a sense of home is important to comfort, even if you're not actually at home, and harsh weather might also play a key part in setting the mood. “Rainy days should be spent at home with a cup of tea and a good book," chimes in Bill Watterson from his The Calvin and Hobbes Tenth Anniversary Book.
Here's also Douglas Coupland hanging out in our Bar, and his personal copy of Life After God, broadening a definition of comfort for us: “The richness of the rain made me feel safe and protected; I have always considered the rain to be healing—a blanket—the comfort of a friend. Without at least some rain in any given day, or at least a cloud or two on the horizon, I feel overwhelmed by the information of sunlight and yearn for the vital, muffling gift of falling water.”
Multiple bestseller Tom Robbins is also hanging out, and here with, Jitterbug Perfume, he orders the comforts of something stronger from our counter: “Never underestimate how much assistance, how much satisfaction, how much comfort, how much soul and transcendence there might be in a well-made taco and a cold bottle of beer.”
Comforts cold or warm, it's up to you, and may come in many forms, but part of what's nice about this topic is that's instinctive, and shouldn’t require huge analysis. So to and, As Wiking puts in reference to AA Milne's great book: “To paraphrase one of the greatest philosophers of our time – Winnie the Pooh – when asked how to spell a certain emotion, ‘You don't spell it, you feel it.’”
So then, it's time to serve up and share your musical references to, or sonic senses of comfort and cosiness in song suggestions. And taking our big cosy guest guru chair for the very first time, let's have a big warm hand for the hugely knowledgeable and extremely nice Naguchi, to whom this topic will hopefully be a pleasant surprise. Place your songs, ideally with helpful justifications and a welcoming smile, in comments below for the deadline on Monday 11pm UK time, for playlists published next week. Pull up a chair by the fireside and enjoy.
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