Rosettes, Rivalries, and the Art of Being Content
Randomly washing up this morning, I found myself thinking about the saying “Keeping Up with the Joneses.”
I know people who are always impressed by what they can’t have — a bit like Hyacinth Bucket (pronounced Bouquet, of course).
I’ve always loved the kind of humour that makes everyday chaos feel oddly comforting — the Keeping Up Appearances sort of nonsense, or the perfectly awkward bureaucracy of Parks and Recreation.
That blend of misplaced confidence, officious optimism, and total chaos somehow feels... familiar.
And honestly, that’s probably one of the deep-down reasons I created Middle Woe, a fictional tudor village where nothing works quite as intended, but everyone insists it does.
It’s my little world where people like that are forever chasing the dream, striving to outshine their neighbours with a slightly larger turnip or a marginally shinier pewter mug.
Where every puddle needs a permit, and every disagreement requires at least one committee, three parchments, and a goose.
And that’s just how Middle Woe began — a world of bonkers bureaucracy and heartfelt absurdity. It’s my way of laughing at how seriously we sometimes take life, and how — deep down — we’re all just muddling through our own little parish paperwork.
Take Mrs. Dorcas Wattle, for example: Self-appointed Guardian of Standards, Rosette Royalty, and the village’s most formidable side-eye. Her prized rosette sash — faded lilac, “Champion 1549–1562” — is worn like armour. For her, every contest, from the Turnip Parade to the Annual Hedge-Trimming, is a moral crusade.
Maybe that’s the real joke, though — that so many of us are still trying to “keep up,” even when no one’s really watching.
Maybe contentment isn’t about having more, but about learning to enjoy the chaos we already have.
If you’d like to see what bonkers bureaucracy looks like on paper, you’ll find Middle Woe’s finest moments (and minor disasters) in my Etsy shop.