A Spoonful Each: The Stir-Up Sunday Way to a Calmer December Portfolio

Stir-Up Sunday has a lovely bit of theatre to it. It’s the last Sunday before Advent — this year, 22 November — when kitchens across the UK fill with dried fruit, citrus peel, suet and the low hum of a pudding steaming for hours. Everyone gets a turn with the wooden spoon, and everyone makes a wish. I’ve always liked that. It’s a job that can’t be hurried, and it asks for more than one pair of hands.

That’s roughly how I want to treat my portfolio before December. Not as a last-minute dash to tidy the shelves, but as a slow, shared bit of preparation. A stir-up Sunday for the studio, if you like. Here’s how I’m doing it this year, and how you might borrow the shape of it.

Start with the shopping list

Before any stirring, there’s the gathering. For a pudding, that means weighing out fruit, chopping peel, finding the brandy that’s been at the back of the cupboard since last Christmas. For a portfolio, it means putting everything on one tray without judging it yet.

I use a big enamel tray that’s seen better days. Onto it go: recent pieces I’m pleased with, half-finished things that might be ready by December, screenshots of work I’ve meant to photograph properly, a few notes from people who’ve seen the site, and the small fixes I keep meaning to make — a broken link, a case study that stops too early, a caption that explains nothing.

The temptation is to start editing while you gather. Resist it. Gathering is its own job. You’re just making the ingredients visible. If you start rearranging the fruit before it’s even soaked, you’ll lose the plot.

Let it soak overnight

Christmas pudding mix sits overnight. The fruit drinks up the brandy, the flavours settle, and nobody expects it to be finished by teatime. Portfolio ideas need a bit of that too.

I’ve started leaving my gathered notes alone for at least a day. Sometimes a week. It feels indulgent, but it’s not: it’s the difference between reacting to a portfolio and reading it. When I come back, I can see which pieces still feel alive and which ones I was only keeping because they were recent. The weak caption is obvious. The case study that needs one more paragraph usually tells me where the paragraph goes.

If you’re prepping for December, try giving your list a long soak. Put the tray out of sight. Go for a walk. Make a cup of tea and don’t open the laptop. The work will still be there, and you’ll be less likely to sand the edges off something that was fine as it was.

Pass the spoon

One of the best bits of Stir-Up Sunday is that everyone stirs. It’s not a solo performance. The pudding belongs to the household, or the street, or whoever happens to be in the kitchen when the bowl comes round.

Your portfolio needs a stir from someone else too. Not a committee, and not a comment section. One trusted person with a good eye and a kind way of telling the truth. My friend Cath is good at this. She doesn’t tell me what to make; she tells me where she got lost. That’s the useful bit.

When you hand over the spoon, ask a specific question. Not “what do you think?” but “where did you stop reading?” or “which project felt like the odd one out?” or “did you know what I actually do by the end?” Then let them stir. Don’t defend every lump. You’re not looking for a verdict; you’re looking for a second pair of eyes before the Christmas rush.

Steam, don’t boil

A pudding steams for hours. It doesn’t boil. That’s the bit I keep coming back to this year.

Portfolio prep often turns into a boil: a frantic evening of cropping images, rewriting bios, and deciding the whole site is rubbish because one page doesn’t sit right. It feels productive. It rarely is. The better work happens in short, low-heat sessions — forty-five minutes with one job, then stop. Fix the first line on the about page. Choose three images for the homepage. Write the caption that explains the process. Then close the laptop.

December is a season, not a deadline. If you’re hoping to have something ready before the Christmas break, you don’t need a bonfire. You need a steady steam. A little every few days, with the lid on.

Make a wish, then leave it alone

Everyone who stirs the pudding makes a wish. It’s a small, silly, hopeful ritual, and I think a portfolio can take one too. Mine isn’t about numbers. This year it’s simple: I want someone to linger on the third project. I want them to read the caption and understand why the work matters. That’s the wish.

Write yours down somewhere. One line. Then get on with the slow work of making it possible.

And when you’ve done your stirring — gathered the ingredients, let them soak, invited a trusted eye, kept the heat low — resist the urge to unwrap the pudding every five minutes. The final reveal can wait. In fact, it’s better if it does. A portfolio, like a Christmas pudding, needs time to come together before anyone gets a spoonful.

So this Stir-Up Sunday, I’ll be in the kitchen with the fruit and the wooden spoon, and later in the studio with the tray of half-sorted work. Both jobs are about the same thing: a bit of patience, a bit of company, and the belief that slow preparation makes for a better December.