Civic Joy
Experiments
47 people. 47 patches. One hour a week. No agenda other than joy.
Our postal pigeons are winging their way to you, with hand packed, distinctly analogue, some might say amateur bits and bobs.
Each week, one hour. Your patch. Your pace. Your experiment.
These are some ideas, but as with all the best invitations, they are not prescriptive. Join in, or not. Do something completely different. Whatever floats your boat.
for a Walk
This week is about noticing. Before you do anything else, you need to find your patch. It could be a square inch. It could be an entire neighbourhood. It's yours to think about.
- How did you decide what your patch would be?
- How brave did you feel?
- Did you need to see the results — or was it enough to know you'd spored something potentially joyful?
as Civic Joy Practice
Last week you marked your patch. This week you breathe life into it. Bubbles are generous by nature — they drift into other people's space uninvited, they catch the light, they don't last, and you cannot control where they go. That's the point.
Start each day this week on your threshold. Ten minutes. Your bubble wand and the mix from your kit. That's all.
Full instructions: how to make your wand and mix your bubbles →
Making your bubble mix
- Your kit contains fairy liquid and vegetable glycerine. Don't be too precious. Keep dipping and blowing. Don't swish it.
- Stir the Fairy Liquid into the guar gum powder until it makes a little slimy paste. Add a little at a time.
- Mix in cold distilled water gradually, stirring and testing as you go.
- Keep adding, stirring, testing. Patience is the ingredient.
- If you can, leave it for a couple of hours before you begin. It improves with rest.
- What did you notice about the air you hadn't noticed before?
- Who responded — and who didn't?
- What does it feel like to release something beautiful into a space and let it go?
- Did anyone join you, even briefly?
& Imagination
Your kit contains two tiny figures. This week they become your characters. Give them names. Give them a story. They've arrived in your patch on the Grand Civic Joy Tour 2026 and they want to see the sights.
Your job is to be their guide.
- What did you notice about your patch when you looked at it through someone else's eyes — even fictional ones?
- What would you have walked past if you hadn't been playing tourist?
- What's worth celebrating in your patch that you'd forgotten about?
Invite a Neighbour.
You've spent three weeks getting to know your patch. You've noticed it, marked it, breathed into it, and shown two tiny tourists around it. Now it's time to share it.
Invite a neighbour — or two, or three — through the portal into your patch. Make it a little party. Make it playful. Make it yours.
- Who came? Who surprised you?
- What did someone else notice about your patch that you'd missed?
- What does it feel like to have made a place more playful — even for an afternoon?
- What happens next?
Your fellow experimenters
People doing their hour this week, all over the place.
Join the conversation
A space for the cohort to swap notes, share what happened, and find each other. Low pressure. Join if it's useful, lurk if you prefer.
Or scan to join on your phone
We're meeting online on Tuesday 15 July, 8pm to 9pm GMT. An invitation will land in your email.
Save the date.
Join the conversation, share your patch notes and find other civic joy experimenters.
Join the groupUse these when you post. Find each other.
The people and forces
that made this thing
Joanne Michael designed the Neighbourhood Play Welcome sticker. Hawaiian Tropic sponsored the summer vibes on the postcards.
Wendy Russell inspired the thinking about conditions over programmes. The Scenius around this work was nourished by Brian Eno and Jon Alexander.
Peggy — pub landlady, matriarch, nan — commands 'Oh be joyful' from the great bar in the sky. She occasionally makes visits in the form of a robin. My mum taught me the power of a saucy wink and suggestive cheekiness.
My two teenagers have taught me joy, and how to be a horse whisperer.
F — husband, rock of ages, zen to creative chaos. Still here.
Laura, Smizz, Fran and Joanne for being playmates as we tested the concept. And Emmie, for a four-hour foray into Bonobo Matriarchy and the joy of abundance.
Donna, Eleanor, Tilia and Es — without whom none of this would exist, get made, get sent, get played. The people who show up and make it real.
And the 47 people who said yes.