I’d like to talk about my uncle, David, who has been completely obsessed with intricate jigsaw puzzles for as long as I can remember. Whenever you pop round to his flat in Manchester, there is almost guaranteed to be a dedicated wooden board spread across his dining table, covered in thousands of tiny cardboard pieces.
He works as a chartered accountant, which means his daily job is quite mentally demanding and numbers-heavy. As a result, he spends an hour or two nearly every evening working on these jigsaws as a way to switch off. He doesn't go for simple children's games; he actively seeks out the most daunting sets he can find, usually between two and five thousand pieces. He particularly loves puzzles featuring classic Renaissance oil paintings, intricate historical maps, or even those brutal single-colour gradient designs where every single piece looks almost identical.
As for why he enjoys it so much, I think it serves as a form of active meditation for him. He once explained to me that when he is meticulously sorting pieces by their shade or edge shape, his brain is entirely focused on the present moment, leaving no room for work worries. It demands immense patience and spatial awareness, but rather than finding it tedious, he finds that level of quiet concentration deeply therapeutic. On top of that, there is an immense sense of accomplishment when you place that final piece after weeks of effort. He even glues and frames the most challenging ones to hang on his hallway wall.