TOGT Friday -The Quiet Art of the £100 Project and more

Something for the weekend?

Fridays ought to come with a sigh of relief and a cup of tea that tastes just a bit better than the Monday version.

So here’s a handful of reflections to see you into the weekend: practical, curious, and hopefully a little smile-inducing.

After 50, the noise about “hustle” feels like being trapped in a nightclub with the fire alarm going off. Who needs it? Instead, think small, dignified, and useful. A side project that makes £100 a month isn’t just money—it’s momentum.

The point isn’t to “scale” or “disrupt.” It’s to have something that keeps your mind sharp, like growing runner beans in the back garden. The harvest is modest, but it’s yours.

Some people resell old books. Others write one-page guides. I know someone who makes more from a monthly crossword subscription than they ever did in teaching.

Takeaway: The £100 project is less about cash, more about proving you’ve still got your creative spark.

Have you ever noticed how socks vanish at will? Like Plato’s cave shadows, they hint at a deeper truth: control is an illusion. One minute, you’ve a full pair. Next, you’re dressing for a meeting with one navy and one black.

The trick is to embrace imperfection. Life’s mismatched socks don’t stop you leaving the house—they remind you not to take yourself too seriously.

Socrates might have died for his beliefs, but he probably did so in odd socks.

Takeaway: If you can wear odd socks with confidence, you can survive most of life’s curveballs.

Here’s a trick: pick three things to enjoy over the weekend. Not chores. Not “musts.” Three small pleasures.

Mine this week: roast potatoes done properly, an old Leonard Cohen record, and a walk that smells of damp leaves.

Three things stop the weekend being swallowed whole by admin. Think of them as small anchors against the tide of “busy.”

Takeaway: Protect three little joys, and the rest will feel lighter.

My favourite teapot cracked last week. It wasn’t valuable, just familiar. At first I swore like a football fan in traffic, but then I realised: the teapot had done its job. Thousands of cups. Hundreds of conversations.

We often mourn objects for the stories they carried. But a break can be a nudge—space for something new.

I bought a replacement, chipped already, but it makes me smile.

Takeaway: Sometimes the crack isn’t the end—it’s the punctuation mark that starts the next line.

This weekend, open ChatGPT and type:

It’s surprising how wise your imagined self can sound. Like having a pint with your future conscience.

Keep the letter. Re-read it next Friday. See what sticks.

Takeaway: Your best mentor might just be an older version of you.

The best weekends aren’t “perfect.” They’re just the ones where you looked up from the noise and smiled at something ordinary.

Until next Friday,The Old Grey Thinker